“again,” heeseung says, his voice oddly low for a basic maths question. he waits for a second, then another, before leaning closer to repeat. “i said, do it again. pretty girl,”

you click your pen, your legs shaking just as fast as your heart beats. it’s amusing, really, and cute. “c’mon, you know it,”

hell, you do. you’ve gone over this multiple times.

derivatives are easy but one word from him and your mind is blank— shut off. you nip on your lower lip, trying to think about anything but the butterflies in your stomach or his woody perfume or the way he is staring at you with half-lid eyes through his glasses.

he gives up with a sigh, taking the pen from you and solving the equation. the proximity has you digging nails in your thighs— anything to ground you and keep you sane.

and heeseung? he does it effortlessly as always, going over the steps in detail in the same low voice that is making your face heat up.

his handwriting is a little messy but it looks hot for some reason. the way he works with numbers and functions, the dancing of your pen between his fingers, his hands, god, you have to mentally slap yourself to prevent any inappropriate thoughts.

with the drop of the pen on the notebook, you are pulled back to reality. he sighs, one hand on the back rest of your chair. “there, was that hard, sweetheart?”

and you gulp both at the lack of distance and the nickname, unable to hold yourself back from asking. “do you flirt with all your students?”

there’s a pause.

the ticking of the clock feels too loud at the moment and it does nothing to calm your nerves.

he finds it cute that you are trying to question him when you can barely think straight. his eyes trail down to your fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt, the way you can’t keep an eye contact for more than a few seconds.

leaning closer, he lets out a chuckle, almost mockingly. “only the pretty ones, darling,”

and you squirm a little in your seat under his gaze, still trying to calm your racing heart. “that’s so unprofessional,”

he shrugs. “so is staring at your tutor’s mouth while he’s talking— but i haven’t said anything,”

a gasp. “i did not—” you want to die, you could die from embarrassment. the way he is looking at you makes you want to shift under the table or on his lap— you have lost your mind.

heeseung can only laugh at the way you’re hiding your face, crossing one leg over the other.

“easy there, darling. we have a lesson to finish,” he stifles a laugh, picking up the pen again. “and if you do well on your mocks i might let you kiss me— or not,” his eyes travel down to your lips, watching how you part them slightly unconsciously. “depending upon what you call unprofessional,”