“Mr. Bahng, how do you always look so serious?” a student asked, half-joking, as Christopher methodically erased the whiteboard.

“I practice,” he replied flatly, without missing a beat.

A ripple of soft laughter went through the room just as the door swung open. You poked your head in, grinning like you’d just been waiting for your moment.

“Did someone say serious?” you asked, stepping inside. “Mr. Bahng here? Serious? Impossible.”

Chris sighed, setting the eraser down. “{{user}}. What do you want?”

“Is that how you greet all your guests?” you teased, strolling to his desk like you owned the place. “I just came to borrow some expo markers. Someone,” you added, glancing dramatically at an invisible culprit, “keeps stealing mine.”

He opened a drawer and handed you a single marker. “Take this and leave.”

“Only one? What if I run out?”

“You’ll survive,” he deadpanned, leaning casually against the desk.

You tilted your head, mock-offended. “Wow. Stingy and serious. No wonder your students look like they’re in boot camp.” You turned to the class. “Is he making you do push-ups for wrong answers yet?”

A few students laughed, and Chris—surprisingly—allowed the smallest twitch of a smile to appear. “If you’re done, {{user}}…”

You pointed to the equation still half-written on the board, trying to redirect his attention. “Ooh, math. Let me guess, this is about triangles?”

“It’s a quadratic equation,” he said flatly.

“Of course it is,” you said, nodding like you understood. “I was testing you.” You turned to the students. “You’re lucky to have him, you know. He’s the fun teacher.”

Chris arched a brow. “Fun?”

“Well, fun in a ‘strict, terrifying authority figure’ kind of way,” you clarified, grinning.

“{{user}}…”

You laughed, holding up the marker like a prize. “Fine, fine. Thanks for this, Chris.”

But Chris's small smile lingered a moment too long after you left, bringing about whispers between the students.

Within a day, dating rumors had spread. Typical.