Chapter Text
Zhang Hao isn’t the type to uproot his entire life in his cozy hometown in favor of corralling ungrateful brats who are louder than his 24 years of existence in a different time zone.
And yet here he is.
“Can everyone be quiet and sit down?”
The twenty-or-so demon children in the music room continue squabbling without regard for their exhausted and quite frankly graying at the temples teacher.
“Hey! Listen up—put that bow down, and watch your step, don’t step on that rosin, don’t—VIOLAS ARE NOT WEAPONS!”
Zhang Hao is about to end his life.
There’s a sharp rapping at the door, and the sweet, sweet face of his savior appears at the door.
“You look like a mess,” Sung Hanbin bites his lip, looking especially punchable with his barely held-back smirk, eyes two mini-crescents and whisker dimples showing.
“Well, maybe I wouldn’t look like a car just ran me over if EVERYONE WOULD SHUT UP.”
The room quiets down to a hush, and Zhang Hao rubs at his temples.
“Take the kids and go,” he flaps his hand wearily in Hanbin’s direction, head in his other hand.
He hears a chuckle before two loud claps echo through the room. “You heard Mr. Zhang, it’s time for P.E.!”
The chattering picks up again right away, and Zhang Hao doesn’t lift his head until the sound of footsteps has faded and the comforting click of the door closing has sounded.
“Ughhhhh.” He throws his head back, staring at the speckled ceiling and wondering why he ever thought it was a good idea to become a teacher.
He allows himself a total of two minutes to wallow in his misery before gathering his textbooks and heading out the door for his next class.
Music theory was a much easier class to teach, because 1. the students were high schoolers, not middle schoolers (international schools where grades K-12 are all combined in one campus should be illegal) and 2. it didn’t involve twenty-seven preteens all trying to prove themselves as the next Mozart with their shitty violins and upside down sheet music together in one, way too small room.
Zhang Hao briskly makes his way down the winding halls of the high school wing, only making a brief stop in the teachers’ lounge for some much-needed coffee. The roasted smell of his favorite americano wakes him up just enough for him to no longer feel like jumping out the nearest window, and he sighs before continuing on his way to the Music Theory classroom.
He can hear the chattering of high schoolers long before he enters the classroom. They’re louder than normal today, likely because today’s a Friday and tomorrow would be the start of the weekend.
Knocking slightly at the door before entering, Zhang Hao swings open the door and walks in, thanking god that at least the high schoolers have the decency to lower their voices under a hundred decibels when their teacher enters the classroom.
“Hello, everyone. I’m sure you are all excited for the weekend, but the curriculum won’t teach itself.”
Groans and protests echo through the room, and Zhang Hao smiles, without it reaching his eyes, at them before turning around and writing on the chalkboard.
“We’ll have a quiz when we’re back on Monday to make sure you all don’t forget this lesson, so remember to study up.” Zhang Hao scrawls a short section of a music score on the blackboard, dusting his hands off when he’s done. “Now, who can tell me what piece this is from? Extra credit to whoever knows the composer as well.”
A hand immediately shoots up, and Zhang Hao smiles fondly at the young boy it belongs to. “Yes, Gunwook?”
“Toccata and Fugue in D Minor by—“
“I know you already know the answer, so let’s see if any of your peers also know.”
Gunwook narrows his eyes and opens his mouth slightly, to which Zhang Hao promises in response, “You’ll still get the extra credit, you know you‘re my favorite.”
“Aren’t teachers not supposed to have favorites?” Ollie, a junior with a mop of black hair and bright eyes complains loudly. “Or at the very least, not admit it so blatantly?”
“I wouldn’t have to pick favorites if you all bothered to at least pretend to try in my class,” Zhang Hao answers curtly. “Now, do any of you know the composer? Gunwook already did you all the favor of saying the piece’s name—and no, Gyuvin, you’re not allowed to say ‘What if I already forgot the name?’”
The gangly teen’s barely raised hand immediately sinks back down, and he pouts at Zhang Hao.
“Anyone?”
The class is silent for a beat, and right before Zhang Hao launches into a tirade about how they had just learned this last week and how they really need to study more because no, just because Music Theory was an elective didn’t mean it didn’t require studying, a quiet boy in the back of the room raises his hand.
“Yes, Yujin?”
“Is it Bach?”
Zhang Hao pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a sigh of relief. “So you aren’t all hopeless.” He scribbles a quick note in his binder to add extra credit to Yujin’s grade later.
“Now, let’s move on to today’s lesson. We’ll be doing a brief introduction to triad analysis, so remember to take notes.”
Despite the groaning and rolling eyes, the students dutifully listen during Zhang Hao’s lecture and the class ends without a hitch. As the high schoolers stream out the door to head to their last class of the day, Zhang Hao tidies up the podium and stacks his binder and textbooks into a pile before carrying it in his arms. He does a cursory check of the classroom before shutting the door behind him and locking it (he had gotten into the habit of locking all empty classroom doors after that one time he walked in on Gyuvin making out with a tall, blond boy in the corner of a classroom during break. Zhang Hao really wished he could wipe the sight from his mind, or at the very least erase the awkward conversation he had to have with both students’ parents about the school’s “hands-off” policy from his memory).
With Music Theory as his last class of the day, Zhang Hao is free to go home now. Except he isn’t leaving yet.
Why, you ask?
It definitely doesn’t have to do with a certain dark-haired man with a warm smile and long eyelashes.
Zhang Hao finds himself lingering outside the dance room on the first floor. He can hear the muffled pop music blasting from the speakers through the door, and he gives in to the urge to peek in through the small window.
Hanbin is standing in the front of the room, dancing along to the beat as he shouts instructions to the dance club students. Zhang Hao watches, entranced, as he steps along to the rhythm, rolling his body in a way that makes Zhang Hao feel embarrassed. Sweat drips from his neck, and when Hanbin lifts a corner of his shirt to wipe it off, revealing his abs, Zhang Hao quickly realizes what he’s doing and looks away, flushing red.
What is he doing? He should be home by now.
But yet here he is, peeking at his coworker’s abs.
With the magnitude of his ridiculousness becoming clear, Zhang Hao is just about to leave when the bell rings and the door to the dance room bursts open at an impossible speed, slamming into Zhang Hao’s side and sending him careening into the wall.
“Mr. Zhang!”
Several gasps sounded, and Zhang Hao is vaguely aware of students surrounding him, but his shoulder really hurts and he’s starting to see white spots in his vision. Did he hit his head? Maybe that would explain the dull ache in his ear.
“Zhang Hao?”
He lifts his head slightly, his heart jumping when he makes eye contact with Hanbin.
“Are you ok?”
Warm hands grab his shoulders, then the back of his head, and all Zhang Hao can think about is how nice Hanbin smells, despite just coming out of the dance room. Like clean laundry and coffee.
Suddenly, clarity dawns on Zhang Hao and he stumbles backward, away from Hanbin and his students and the godforsaken door.
“I’m fine! I’m fine.” He shakes his head a little, running a hand through his hair embarrassedly. His shoulder really ached in earnest and he knew that it was going to bruise. “Sorry, I should’ve been watching where I was going.”
Hanbin frowns, concern shining in his eyes. “No, my students should’ve been more mindful before opening the door.” He turns around, eyeing the student standing awkwardly in front of the other dance club members sternly. “Haven’t I told you to be more careful when leaving the classroom, Gyuvin? I understand this is your last class of the day, and that you’re eager to start your weekend, but please be mindful of others. Look what you’ve done to your teacher.”
“Sorry, Mr. Zhang,” The brown-haired boy apologizes, and he at least has the decency to look like he means it. “I’m really sorry, I promise I’ll be more careful in the future.”
Zhang Hao waves a hand at him, rubbing his head. “It’s fine, Gyuvin. Now can everyone head on home, and stop gawking at me like I’m a zoo exhibit?”
The students murmur amongst themselves before quickly leaving, already chatting about weekend plans.
Once all the students are gone, Hanbin turns to Zhang Hao. “Are you sure you’re ok?” He says quietly, and god, Zhang Hao hates how caring he is, hates how he makes him weak with just a few words.
“Yeah, I’m fine, it doesn’t even hurt, it just caught me by surprise—fuck!”
Hanbin removes his hand from Zhang Hao’s shoulder, smiling cheekily like he hadn’t just squeezed his aching shoulder. “If you were really fine, you wouldn’t have responded like that. C’mon, let’s go to the nurse’s office.”
Zhang Hao bites back a retort before giving in. He was a side sleeper, and he likes sleeping on his left side most, so it’s best to get his shoulder treated sooner rather than later anyway.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
He follows Hanbin down the hall and enters the front office, nodding politely at the office ladies before going into the nurse’s office.
The nurse is nowhere to be seen, and Hanbin mutters a quick, “Why is she never here?” under his breath before heading over to the various drawers against the wall. He rifles through them before letting out a small noise of satisfaction (a 23-year-old man has no right being this cute) and shaking his find at Zhang Hao.
“Sit on one of the cots, Zhang Hao,” Hanbin instructs, and Zhang Hao dutifully listens, plopping down on the white sheets and wincing as the motion jostles his shoulder. Hanbin tsks at the sight and sighs. “I’m sorry Zhang Hao, I really need to get a better hold on my students.”
“It’s alright, I wasn’t paying attention anyway.” Zhang Hao muses, staring out the window. He doesn’t notice the way Hanbin is shuffling nervously from one foot to the other.
“Uh… Zhang Hao? Is it ok if you…” Hanbin gestures helplessly at him.
“Huh?”
“Gosh, Zhang Hao—I—can you, uh, move your shirt?” Hanbin’s face is pink and his hand flails around, the other hand clenched tight around the tube of ointment, knuckles white.
“Oh!” Zhang Hao immediately feels blood rush to his face, and he drops his head in an attempt to hide it. “Y-yeah, ok.”
He unbuttons the top three buttons on his white dress shirt, then realizes it still doesn’t reach his shoulder, and unbuttons the fourth (if he hadn’t been busy trying to hide his flushed cheeks, then maybe he would’ve noticed the way Hanbin watched him with a similar blush).
“Do you want to put the ointment on yourself?” Zhang Hao hears the hesitation in Hanbin’s voice. “Or do you want me to—”
“Please do it for me.”
Zhang Hao isn’t sure what possesses him in the moment, but he somehow manages to force the words out of his mouth without sounding too flustered.
Hanbin, on the other hand, is struggling. “Oh—I mean, ok, sure. That’s fine.”
Finally deeming it safe to raise his head, Zhang Hao looks up to see Hanbin squeezing the ointment out of the tube into his palm, then closing his fingers into a fist around it.
“What’re you doing?”
Hanbin glances up, making eye contact with Zhang Hao. “Making sure it’s not too cold. The AC is always on full blast in this room. Don’t worry, it won’t take long. I run hot.”
Something within his chest squeezes and Zhang Hao has to fight the desire to get closer to this man. How can someone ever be so kind, so caring?
Hanbin opens his hand and pokes an experimental finger into the ointment in his palm. Apparently it must be warm enough because he stoops down on the floor, then gets on his knees when he decides it’s too low. “Move your shirt lower, I don’t want to get it dirty.” He flushes when he realizes what he’s requesting, but Zhang Hao does what he says without comment.
The ointment isn’t cold at all and smells of mint. Zhang Hao closes his eyes, his entire being focusing on the gentle circles Hanbin is tracing on his skin.
“That’ll definitely bruise for a while.” Hanbin’s voice breaks Zhang Hao’s state of tranquility and he opens his eyes, staring at his shoulder. It’s already starting to turn purple, with black-ish blue spots forming at the center.
“Hopefully this ointment helps numb it, my mom would always use this for me and my sister when we were little and had bruises on our legs that cropped up every other day.” Hanbin continues gently rubbing the medicine into Zhang Hao’s shoulder. “I’ll get you some ice too, wait here.” He stands up and screws the cap back on the ointment, before setting it next to Zhang Hao. “Feel free to add more, I’m not sure if I used enough, since I didn’t know if you’re sensitive to the smell of mint or not.” He turns around and heads toward the fridge in the corner of the room, presumably for the ice.
Zhang Hao stares at Hanbin’s back. Ever since he was transferred to the Korean school from their China branch, this man had been nothing but kind to him.
“Are you looking for something?”
Zhang Hao turned around, locking eyes with the most beautiful man he had ever seen. Dark, inky black hair that looked incredibly soft to the touch, bright eyes with straight brows and long eyelashes, porcelain skin and pretty heart-shaped lips.
Zhang Hao wanted to kiss him.
“I’m looking for the music room on the second floor,” Zhang Hao waved the crumpled map in his hand. “This school is unfairly big.”
The man laughed, and suddenly Zhang Hao’s day just got a whole lot better. “Yeah, it is pretty big to accommodate all the different grades. Is it your first day?”
Zhang Hao nodded mutely, unable to look away from the man.
“That’s cool! I’m guessing you’re the new music teacher admin told us about. Zhang Hao, right? You’re from China?”
He nodded again, feeling stupid but unable to force another reaction out of himself.
“I’m Sung Hanbin! I believe I’m younger than you, so just call me Hanbin!”
Zhang Hao shot him a weak smile. “Nice to meet you, Hanbin.”
“The pleasure is mine, really. I heard a lot about you, just the other day, the principal was hyping you up, talking about how talented you are and how lucky we were that the China branch agreed to send you over.” Hanbin smiled at him, and Zhang Hao noticed the whisker dimples that appeared on his cheeks. Adorable.
“Gosh, I’ve been keeping you here, haven’t I? Here, I’ll take you to the music room.” Hanbin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly before gesturing for Zhang Hao to follow him. “It’s this way, just remember that there’s a fire extinguisher on the wall outside it.
Hanbin turned the corner, stopping in front of a room labeled Music 1. He opened the door for Zhang Hao, students already chatting loudly inside.
“Hey! Everyone listen up!”
The entire room quieted down instantaneously, and Zhang Hao marveled at how easily Hanbin led the room from the second he stepped in.
“This here is Mr. Zhang, your new music teacher. He’s from China and you are all very lucky to be taught by him, so give him your utmost respect and treat him well.” Having made his announcement, Hanbin backed up and ducked out the door, sticking his head back in to whisper to Zhang Hao, “Good luck with your class, Zhang Hao! See you around.” And with a smile and a wink, he was gone, leaving Zhang Hao’s heart pounding.
“Will this be too cold?”
Zhang Hao blinks, eyes focusing back on the man in front of him. Hanbin had wrapped the icepack with a paper towel, and is now pouting at it slightly (Zhang Hao tries not to think about how cute he is).
“It should be fine,” Zhang Hao waves his hand dismissively. “You worry too much.”
“Well, it’s you, so how could I not worry?”
Zhang Hao doesn’t let his mind linger on those words, choosing instead to snatch the ice pack from Hanbin’s hand and place it on his shoulder, trying not to hiss from the freezing sensation. “It’s fine, Hanbin. Thank you so much for taking me here and applying the ointment and everything, but you should go home now. I’ve kept you here for too long.”
Hanbin shakes his head at him. “You’re not keeping me here, I chose to stay.”
“Still.”
Silence blankets the room. It felt comfortable, and yet there was still an undeniable tension running through the air.
“Do you… never mind, I’m overstepping.”
Zhang Hao looks up at Hanbin, who’s nervously picking at his palms. Wordlessly, he reaches up and pulls Hanbin’s hand away, tsking at the red marks his fingernails had carved into the skin. “What is it?”
Hanbin stares at his hand in Zhang Hao’s, swallowing nervously. “Do you want me to drive you home? Because of your shoulder,” he adds quickly. “You might get jostled on the subway since it’s rush hour.”
Having just moved to Korea a few months ago, Zhang Hao hadn’t bothered to get a car. Public transport in Seoul is, for the most part, clean, convenient, and safe, so he hadn’t thought it was necessary to get his own means of transport. It does get beyond crowded in the mornings and evenings though, when everyone is heading to work and school or heading home. For Zhang Hao, someone who hates being packed together like sardines in a can with strangers, it’s his own personal nightmare that he has to overcome every day.
“Sure, Hanbin.” Zhang Hao smiles gratefully at him, praying the way that his heart is speeding up won’t be evident to the other man.
He watches in amusement as Hanbin’s face turns a pretty shade of pink, and his fingers twitch as if he wants to pick at his palm again, but Zhang Hao notices how he forces himself to relax his hands and keep them at his sides.
“I—ok. Let’s go when you’re ready.”
Zhang Hao stands up, ice pack still pressed to his shoulder. “Then let’s go now.”
Hanbin nods quickly in response, making his way to the door. He held the door open for Zhang Hao on the way out, making sure to turn the lights off behind him.
The two walk in comfortable silence out to the staff parking lot, where Hanbin makes his way over to a silver Hyundai. Zhang Hao raises his eyebrows, smiling at Hanbin. “For some reason, I feel like your car suits you very well.”
Hanbin grins back, whisker dimples on full display. “Does it, now?” He unlocks the car and opens the passenger seat door, motioning for Zhang Hao to get in.
Zhang Hao smiles sheepishly at him before climbing in, his free arm still holding the ice pack to his shoulder. Once inside the car, he removed the ice pack, refolding the paper towel around it.
“Oh, is the paper towel soaked? Here, I grabbed some extra before we left the nurse’s office.” Hanbin pulls out a small wad of paper towels from his pocket, handing them over to Zhang Hao. “I thought it would be uncomfortable for you if the paper towel was wet.”
Zhang Hao’s heart squeezes, and he swallows. “Thanks, Hanbin.”
Hanbin starts the car, checking if Zhang Hao’s seat belt is on properly before backing out of the parking spot. Zhang Hao is overly aware of his presence when he puts a hand on the back of Zhang Hao’s headrest, turning around in his seat to look behind for any oncoming cars.
“Could you tell me your address?”
“Oh, sure,” Zhang Hao opens his mouth, then reaches forward to the screen. “Actually, I’ll input it in the GPS for you.” He quickly types in the address to his apartment. “Here.”
Hanbin glances over, and does a double-take. “Zhang Hao, that’s really close to where I live!” He smiles at him, eyes crinkling. “We’re meant to be.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Zhang Hao presses a hand over his left ear in hopes of hiding its growing redness from Hanbin. “Eyes on the road, Hanbin.”
“Sorry, Zhang Hao.”
They drive the rest of the way home in silence, and Zhang Hao finds his eyes keep drifting to Hanbin.
He watches the way the other rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his forearms as he drives. The sunset streaming in through the window illuminates Hanbin’s side profile, setting it ablaze in gold. Zhang Hao watches as his long eyelashes flutter once, twice and then he finds a pair of warm brown eyes lock with his.
Startled, Zhang Hao jumps in his seat slightly before awkwardly turning away, staring out the window. In the reflection, he sees Hanbin smiling cheekily at him.
Annoying.
“Sorry,” Zhang Hao mutters under his breath, unsure why he’s even apologizing. What was he saying sorry for? Quick, make something up. His face felt hot. Hopefully Hanbin couldn’t tell. “For… distracting you while you’re driving.”
“It’s alright.”
Zhang Hao deems it safer to keep staring out the window. Seoul’s bustling downtown passes by in a blur, cars and pedestrians becoming splotches of color in Zhang Hao’s periphery vision as his gaze unfocuses and his mind wanders.
Sung Hanbin… what did this man have that makes him so different from all of Zhang Hao’s past interests? He had his fair share of relationships and talking stages back in China, but ever since coming to Korea, he hasn’t thought much about dating. He doesn’t have time for dating. The school keeps him so busy he doesn’t have the time for anything else besides work.
But that had never stopped Zhang Hao. Back in China, whenever he had someone he was interested in, he never hesitated to make the first move, no matter the circumstances. And he isn’t one to brag, but he was always successful.
So what is stopping him now? Is it because Hanbin was Korean? That’s probably it, Zhang Hao isn’t familiar with Korean culture yet and doesn’t want to overstep. That’s it.
“Zhang Hao. We’re here.”
Hanbin’s gentle voice breaks Zhang Hao’s train of thought, and he shakes his head a little before mumbling a soft “thank you” and climbing out of the car, his feet landing on the cracked pavement of the parking lot of his apartment building.
Hanbin is hovering somewhat awkwardly outside the car, on the driver’s side. “Do you… want me to walk you up? I can stay here too, I was just asking in case you felt uncomfortable since it’s starting to get dark—”
Zhang Hao waves his hand hurriedly. “No, no, it’s ok Hanbin, I can’t trouble you any further. You’ve already done so much for me today.” He pauses, rapidly running through a list of pros and cons in his head before ultimately throwing it all away and just asking, “Could I repay you with lunch sometime? Or just a coffee, if you’re busy.”
Hanhin’s mouth opens slightly, before closing. Then he smiles warmly, saying, “Sure! I’d love that.” (If they had been standing a bit closer, maybe Zhang Hao would’ve noticed the way Hanbin’s eyes were shining and hands were shaking).
“Great! Then it’s a date.” The words are out his mouth before he notices, and when realization dawns Zhang Hao flushes red. He quickly spins around, praying it was dark enough that Hanbin wouldn’t notice. “I’ll—I’ll see you around. Thank you for the ride. And… at the nurse’s office.”
“Yeah. See you Monday, Zhang Hao.”
He crosses the run-down parking lot, then speeds up the stairs, hoping that he isn’t walking too fast. Natural. He has to walk naturally. Act naturally.
Hauling himself up the final flight of stairs, he rounds the corner, finally on the third floor. Curse this old-ass apartment building for not having an elevator. As he approaches the familiar door, he rummages in his pocket for his keys.
His fingers close on air.
Zhang Hao throws his bag down the floor, digging in all of his pockets for his keys.
Nothing.
Fuck.
Doing one final panicked check, Zhang Hao is faced with the terrible reality: he forgot his keys at school.
Zhang Hao races back down the corridor, turning the corner and leaning over the low wall on the side of the building that faces the parking lot. Relief floods his heart, then shame (and a touch of another feeling that he dares not name), as he spots the silver Hyundai. Hanbin is inside, his hands over his face and head thrown back in the driver seat.
Zhang Hao waves his hand wildly, begging in his head for Hanbin to spot him. His other hand digs into the edge of the balcony, leaving indents in his fingers. Luckily, as Hanbin drags his hands down his face and opens his eyes, he makes eye contact with Zhang Hao. The man’s eyes widen in a comical manner, before he jumps out of the car. “Zhang Hao?”
“Hanbin!” Zhang Hao calls out, before wincing as the reality of what he needs to ask becomes clear. “I’m… I’m so sorry, but… I forgot my keys at the school.” He watches as realization dawns on the other man’s face. Shit, Zhang Hao is never going to live this down. Not because of Hanbin, he’s too kind to ever hold something like this over Zhang Hao’s head, but because the embarrassment of tonight is never going to fade, not for as long as Zhang Hao lives.
“Is it ok if I stay with you tonight?”