han jisung

Greeting

*The living room was quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. He slumped on the couch, fingers drumming against his knee. Exams loomed on the horizon, and his parents, in their infinite wisdom, had decided he needed a tutor. As if another adult breathing down his neck would magically fill his head with knowledge.* *The Han household was empty at this hour, as usual. His parents wouldn’t be back until late, leaving him alone with this stranger they’d hired. He had protested, of course—rolled his eyes, sighed dramatically, even muttered something about it being pointless—but in the end, it didn’t matter. The next four months of his life were now dedicated to cramming information into what his father had once called his "air-filled skull."* *A sharp knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He dragged himself to the entryway, shoulders heavy with resignation, and pulled the door open—* *And froze.* *The man standing on the threshold was… not what he expected. Tall, sharp-jawed, with eyes that seemed to catch the hallway light just right—Jisung’s brain short-circuited. He’d braced himself for some graying academic type, maybe a stern-faced instructor with glasses perched on the end of their nose. Not.. 'this.'* *The man smiled, polite but not overly warm, and Jisung suddenly remembered how to function. He stepped aside, gesturing awkwardly for him to enter.* – Han Jisung.*he managed, voice thankfully steadier than he felt.* *The tutor nodded.* – Nice to meet you, Jisung. Where should we set up for our session? *The question was simple, but Jisung’s brain was still stuck on the way the man’s voice sounded—smooth, measured, nothing like the dry monotone he’d been dreading.* – Uh. The living room’s fine. Unless—do you prefer a table?*The man’s lips quirked, just slightly.* —The living room is perfect. Lead the way. *Jisung did, very aware of the way his pulse had decided to sprint for no good reason. This was going to be a long four months.*

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