WIPs (??)
if you could teach me one thing
Kris is the youngest professor in the Asian Language department and ironically the one with the highest return rate of students. Lu Han is his TA. Krishan. PG. ~1k
Kris is nursing his headache when Lu Han walks into the classroom. It had taken Lu Han longer than expected to move against the wave of students intent on swarming out of the language building in the opposite direction. He also caught sight of Baixian and the tall student who had once insisted on having a conversation with Lu Han in indecipherable drunken Chinese. They both grin at the sight of Lu Han. Their amusement was always a sure indication of an eventful class.
Lu Han approaches the desk and sets a hand on Kris’s shoulder. “Why so blue, Wu Laoshi?”
Kris sets his reading glasses on top of the textbook, giving Lu Han a measured look. “Did you grade the homework?”
“No time for small talk, I see.” Lu Han pulls out the stack of paper. “You have a very creative class here. I’ve never seen such a diverse collection of character strokes.”
“This is an elementary level class,” Kris says, accepting the papers. “What do you expect?”
Lu Han leans over the desk. “Maybe because Wu Laoshi’s handwriting leaves much to be desired.” When Kris doesn’t deign Lu Han with a response, he grins. Lu Han knows how much Kris puts into planning the coursework-listening comprehension on Mondays, reading comprehension on Tuesdays, written homework on Wednesday, all interweaved between presentations and oral evaluations.
Kris is the youngest professor in the Asian Language department and ironically the one with the highest return rate of students. That doesn’t stop him from investing an unholy amount of time on lesson plans at odd hours of the night, when Lu Han wakes up to an empty bed and the smell of left over eggplants warming in the microwave. “So what happened today?”
“Shouhu has three girlfriends and Shixun is a womanizer,” Kris says, flattening the side of his blazer.
Lu Han raises an eyebrow. “I thought they were presenting on food?”
“Shouhu went to a restaurant this weekend with three girlfriends. 我的三个女朋友, he said.”
Lu Han laughs.
“Shixun likes soy products so much that he eats tofu every day. 他喜欢吃豆腐.” Kris says, smiling a little. There’s always an odd mixture of amusement and pride in his eyes. It had drawn Lu Han towards him when they first met at the Eastern Language department banquet, Lu Han having gotten tired of explaining his research to another tenured staff before being rescued by the unlikely new faculty member.
Kris understands Lu Han’s appreciation for classical Chinese literature and can engage Lu Han in hours of discussion on Song Dynasty poetry, yet he prefers to teach lower level language classes to unappreciative undergraduates trying to fill core course requirements. Kris’s Masters of Education is something they’ve only discussed once over cheap Tsingtao beer and zhajiangmian, but their conversation had halted promptly when Lu Han climbed onto Kris’s lap and kissed him senseless as punishment for pouring too much vinegar into his noodles.
The irony of it all is that Kris is still younger than Lu Han, who has another year of graduate school left before he can distance himself from the mediocrity associated with pursuing a Ph.D at a public university. Kris, with his impossibly tidy wardrobe and disturbingly large collection of button-down shirts, takes his job too seriously. Lu Han supposes it’s what he likes the most about Kris, considering that Lu Han himself lives in constant oscillation between lukewarm motivation and a consuming indifference towards his professional career.
“If you hate academia so much, then you should have quit after undergrad,” Kris once said as Lu Han cooked Beijing fried rice over the portable stove on Kris’s tiny balcony. The kitchen stove is more than sufficient for cooking four cups of rice, two eggs, and a copious amount of salt- a recipe Lu Han knows by heart-, but Kris always insisted that cooking indoors left stains on his apartment walls.
If Lu Han had returned to China after the initial excitement over obtaining a degree overseas wore off, then he wouldn’t be here now, flirting with Kris between classes and tracing unsaid words on Kris’s back during kisses. In fact, Lu Han wouldn’t be kissing anyone at all.
“If any of my students walked in right now,” Kris says, pushing Lu Han away as they both turn towards the door. “I’d lose my job.”
Lu Han thinks it’s endearing that Kris is still holding onto some semblance of secrecy outside of the faculty. Anyone besides stinted old Chinese scholars can see that Lu Han didn’t sign up for this T.A. position because of his insatiable desire to correct misspelled pinyin. He doesn’t mention the way Baixian smirks at Lu Han in the hallways and the 吴老师喜欢鹿晗 notes the CHIN 201 classes has taken to leaving in the margin of their writing assignments. Chen, especially, has developed a profound grasp of the Chinese language since his days in CHIN 101.
Speaking of the devil, Lu Han thinks as he spots Chen poking his head into the doorway. “Laoshi,” Chen says, grinning at the sight of his favorite T.A. He smoothly asks Kris for help on his homework in accent-less Chinese.
“I’ll let you get back to work,” Lu Han says, taking his hands off Kris’s shoulder and heading for the door. He greets Chen and pretends not to hear Chen’s comment of “小两口~”
“Who taught you that?” Kris asks from his desk.
Lu Han laughs when he hears Chen’s reply of “You did, Wu Laoshi!”
吴老师喜欢鹿晗 = Wu Laoshi likes Lu Han
小两口= little couple
吃豆腐 = To eat tofu/slang for flirting/being a womanizer
note: I've never taken Chinese classes at college so all of my info came from my lovely dongsaeng Erica. I also have no clue how Masters of Education work lol. I did, however, spend a semester grading papers and it was Not Fun.
Notes on the Firebird, Vol 1
Kris is a famous mangaka and Chanyeol is his fan Krisyeol. G. ~2k
Upon reading that Wu-Sensei is working on a new project, Chanyeol shoots up in his seat, knocking the pencil case and notebook off his lap. When the occupants of the lecture hall shoot him dirty looks, Chanyeol laughs and slowly glances back at October’s issue of Ribon. “Baekhyun,” he hisses, lowering his voice when a girl at the front row stares at him. “Baekhyun, do you know what this means?”
“It means we’re going to fail this exam,” Baekhyun replies, flipping through his notebook. His eyes are red and Chanyeol has a suspicion that Baekhyun pulled another all-nighter. Chanyeol can taste the desperation and apathy in the room as their fellow classmates filter into the exam hall. While Baekhyun tries to cram last minute equations into his head, Chanyeol compartmentalizes. He had spent the weekend in the library, re-doing problem sets and rewriting equations. Chanyeol draws the Hodgekin-Huxley circuit on the back of his eyelids at night, visualizing the miniscule capillaries in his eyes bursting-a side effect of all that caffeine, he thinks. Baekhyun is no better, calling him at ungodly hours to ask mechanical questions about homework problems, as if Chanyeol can visualize his work and magically know which Fourier transform he copied wrong. Chanyeol can code three different types of filters in matlab, but there’s only so much enthusiasm he can invest in linear systems and signal transforms before Chanyeol stops caring entirely.
So while Baekhyun and the rest of their major congregate at the largest silent party in the engineering library, Chanyeol reads. He reads manga and lives vicariously through two dimensional characters. Last semester Chanyeol went through 15 volumes of Air Gear before Kyungsoo dragged him to their biotransport exam, where justice was dealt in confusing problems about poiseuille flow and fluid transport. At least, Chanyeol thinks, he didn’t burst out crying in the middle of the exam like that unfortunate girl in row two. While the other engineering students celebrate their masochist studying habits with heavy drinking, Chanyeol reads even more manga.
He discovered Wu- Sensei two semesters ago, in the midst of foaming at the mouth during a particular bad round of exams. The trilingual mangaka Wu-Sensei is famous for his 12 volume series about the lives of a boyband-their rise to fame and subsequent fall from stardom. It’s a long story about friendship, uncertainties, and falling in love in an era of emotional instability. Since then, the mangaka has expanded the original plot through the publication of side stories and a mini sequel. Into Your World won the 47th annual Kodansha Manga Award and is lauded as one of the more poignant series addressing the social issues of their generation. Baekhyun, on the other hand, thinks it’s overrated.
Despite the hours he spent babbling to Joomyun about plot twists and chatting with other fans online, Chanyeol agrees that Wu- Sensei’s earlier works were equally good, if not better. This new project was different, though. Chanyeol knew. He just knew.
“I’m going to do it,” Chanyeol says, clicking his mechanical pencil furiously as the T.A. begins passing out the exam. “I’m going to Sensei’s next autograph signing.”
“Please be quiet,” Baekhyun says, looking torn between laughing and crying at the same time. He pauses when the stack of exams get to him, taking one for himself and passing the rest to Chanyeol.
“Show time,” Chanyeol grins.
November comes in the blink of an eye. Chanyeol blames the bipolar weather, causing him the utmost confusion as he alternates between digging through his winter wardrobe and holding onto his summer clothes. Then again, Chanyeol is always confused to some degree-sitting in the middle of the lecture hall with glazed eyes, sleeping through powerpoint slides, and snoozing on Joonmyun’s shoulder as they stand in line for the only good coffee shop on the north campus. Baekhyun says coffee is for the weak. Baekhyun adopted a caffeine pill regiment months ago and is in a constantly battle with Kyungsoo, who tries to wrestle the bottle away from him on a weekly basis in the name of Baekhyun’s health.
Now Chanyeol stands in his thin parka, half asleep in his scarf as his forehead touches the cool surface of the metro door. He stumbles onto the platform when the door slides open, catching his balance and squeezing his way up the stairs.
Chanyeol finds DancingMachine2014 at the intersection as promised, clad in his blue hoodie and peering around equally curiously. Jongdae yelps when Chanyeol greets him from behind, spinning around to peer up at him. “You’re taller than I expected,” is the first thing Jongdae says, narrowing his eyes. When Chanyeol grins sheepishly at him, Jongdae returns the grin and says, “let’s go.”
The plaza is packed when they arrive. Chanyeol spots venue workers drawing lines with tape barriers. Chanyeol had always known that Wu- Sensei was popular, but that doesn’t stop Chanyeol from being baffled at the wide array of male and female fans alike. While Into Your World appealed to an unisexual audience, Sensei’s earlier work were more male-oriented. One of Chanyeol’s favorite series is the five-volume unlikely story of street racers which soon turns into a fantastic journey about time travel and an unlikely romance.
“I have some friends at front of the line,” Jongdae says, glancing at his cellphone. “I’m going to say hi to them, stay here okay?” He’s off before Chanyeol can reply.
Chanyeol doesn’t mind as he leans against a lamp post. Chairs from the café and outdoor vendors have been pushed aside to make room for the crowd, Chanyeol thinks about minimal wages and the year he spent working the afternoon shifts at a Japanese restaurant. Chanyeol flips through his copy of Wu-Sensei’s one volume story about an amnesia patient, tracing the notes he had scribbled on the margins of the manga-motifs and reoccurring dialogue that he had carefully marked down while ignoring Baekhyun’s comments. Reading manga allows him to be consumed by something else in a sea of violently stressed students.
“That’s my favorite too,” a stranger says next to him, giving Chanyeol a small smile.
Chanyeol grins in return, meeting the other man’s eye. It’s been a while since he’s met someone equally tall. “For a really long time I wanted Sensei to write a sequel to this, but then I realized that the ending was too poignant for a continuation.” Chanyeol doesn’t mention the night he spent wrapped up in a blanket burrito, crying indignantly while Kyungsoo made fun of him.
The stranger hums as he gives Chanyeol an acknowledging nod. “Well, I hope you enjoy the event.” He walks off just in time for Jongdae to bounce back.
“They say we can cut them in line,” Jongdae explains, helping Chanyeol squeeze through the mass of people, towards the elevated stage and his group of female friends. Chanyeol carefully evades their attempts to flirt with oblivious responses, laughing when Jongdae gives him a knowing look.
“You’ve never been to an autograph signing?” Suji asks, blinking when Chanyeol shakes his head. “Sensei is really attractive, you know.” She proceeds to gossip about the mangaka’s age, which turns into a group attack as the girls collectively tease Jongdae about sending fan mail to the artist. They stop only when someone appears on stage to introduce the man of the hour.
Chanyeol leans a little towards the railing and cranes his neck. It’s not really necessarily, given his height. He does, however, stare incredulously when the same man from before walks onto the stage to cheers from the crowd.
Wu-Sensei responds with a smile, thanking the fans for their support and going into a story about being rejected by multiple publishers before meeting his current publicist. “I used to think that no one else would enjoy my stories, but now I’m thankful for the opportunity to share the things I love with everyone.”
“Always so cheesy,” Jongdae tsks when the crowd cheers. “So typical of Wu Fan.”
“As you may know, I am currently working on a new project,” Wu Fan continues when the audience settles down. “As an artist and writer, I’m always trying to experiment with different genres and techniques. My next project will explore the social issues we’re dealing with today, from the anxiety of life post college-”
“I want to read that,” Jongdae says, “That’s a story about me. It’s just like me.”
“-And the social stigmas of loving someone of the same sex,” the artists finishes.
“That’s not like me,” Jongdae whispers just in time for Chanyeol to choke on nothing. His wheezing cuts into the baffled silence as people around them stare at Chanyeol. This includes Wu Fan, who regards him with an amused expression from the stage.
“Shonen-ai,” Suji says, holding onto Jieun. “That’s what he’s working on. Of god, Sensei is the best!” Her declaration is drowned in the crowd’s encouraging cheers. By the time Chanyeol collects himself, everyone else seems on board with the idea too.
During the actual fansigning, Jongdae has to kick Chanyeol in the leg to get his attention. Chanyeol snaps out of his dazed stupor and stumbles towards the table, lowering his head when his favorite mangaka smirks at him.
“I, too, want to tell more of this story,” Sensei says after Chanyeol recites his name dumbly. He opens Chanyeol’s volume with long fingers and signs the inside cover. “If I ask for your opinion on my future works, will you answer me truthfully?”
Chanyeol nods furiously. “Yes, of course.”
“Good,” Sensei grins, scribbling a series of numbers on the inside of the cover flip. It’s Jongdae’s turn before he knows it, and suddenly Suji is tugging on Chanyeol’s arm, asking him if Sensei complimented his name too.
“Eh,” Chanyeol says dumbly, glancing back at the line of people. “No, he didn’t.” He doesn’t dare opening his manga through lunch with his new friends, stuffing the volume into the bottom of his bag on the metro ride home. He runs up three flights of stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, ignoring Joonmyun’s greeting when he bursts through the door.
In the safety of his room, Chanyeol opens the manga and runs his fingers through Wu Fan’s telephone number, scribbled in black marker.
Wrote this when I was foaming at the mouth during exam week. I thought OH HAY WHAT IF EXO WERE ENGINEERS. Then I slept and was like lol no.
I was in China on vacation for 3 weeks, during which I had plenty of plot bunnies but was too lazy to write any of them u___u these are all rollovers from last semester. SORRY ABOUT ALL THE TYPOS. /inserts something about not sleeping, etc. ♥ Want to talk EXO? Meta? EXO Meta?? Talk to me on twitter!
Kris is the youngest professor in the Asian Language department and ironically the one with the highest return rate of students. Lu Han is his TA. Krishan. PG. ~1k
Kris is nursing his headache when Lu Han walks into the classroom. It had taken Lu Han longer than expected to move against the wave of students intent on swarming out of the language building in the opposite direction. He also caught sight of Baixian and the tall student who had once insisted on having a conversation with Lu Han in indecipherable drunken Chinese. They both grin at the sight of Lu Han. Their amusement was always a sure indication of an eventful class.
Lu Han approaches the desk and sets a hand on Kris’s shoulder. “Why so blue, Wu Laoshi?”
Kris sets his reading glasses on top of the textbook, giving Lu Han a measured look. “Did you grade the homework?”
“No time for small talk, I see.” Lu Han pulls out the stack of paper. “You have a very creative class here. I’ve never seen such a diverse collection of character strokes.”
“This is an elementary level class,” Kris says, accepting the papers. “What do you expect?”
Lu Han leans over the desk. “Maybe because Wu Laoshi’s handwriting leaves much to be desired.” When Kris doesn’t deign Lu Han with a response, he grins. Lu Han knows how much Kris puts into planning the coursework-listening comprehension on Mondays, reading comprehension on Tuesdays, written homework on Wednesday, all interweaved between presentations and oral evaluations.
Kris is the youngest professor in the Asian Language department and ironically the one with the highest return rate of students. That doesn’t stop him from investing an unholy amount of time on lesson plans at odd hours of the night, when Lu Han wakes up to an empty bed and the smell of left over eggplants warming in the microwave. “So what happened today?”
“Shouhu has three girlfriends and Shixun is a womanizer,” Kris says, flattening the side of his blazer.
Lu Han raises an eyebrow. “I thought they were presenting on food?”
“Shouhu went to a restaurant this weekend with three girlfriends. 我的三个女朋友, he said.”
Lu Han laughs.
“Shixun likes soy products so much that he eats tofu every day. 他喜欢吃豆腐.” Kris says, smiling a little. There’s always an odd mixture of amusement and pride in his eyes. It had drawn Lu Han towards him when they first met at the Eastern Language department banquet, Lu Han having gotten tired of explaining his research to another tenured staff before being rescued by the unlikely new faculty member.
Kris understands Lu Han’s appreciation for classical Chinese literature and can engage Lu Han in hours of discussion on Song Dynasty poetry, yet he prefers to teach lower level language classes to unappreciative undergraduates trying to fill core course requirements. Kris’s Masters of Education is something they’ve only discussed once over cheap Tsingtao beer and zhajiangmian, but their conversation had halted promptly when Lu Han climbed onto Kris’s lap and kissed him senseless as punishment for pouring too much vinegar into his noodles.
The irony of it all is that Kris is still younger than Lu Han, who has another year of graduate school left before he can distance himself from the mediocrity associated with pursuing a Ph.D at a public university. Kris, with his impossibly tidy wardrobe and disturbingly large collection of button-down shirts, takes his job too seriously. Lu Han supposes it’s what he likes the most about Kris, considering that Lu Han himself lives in constant oscillation between lukewarm motivation and a consuming indifference towards his professional career.
“If you hate academia so much, then you should have quit after undergrad,” Kris once said as Lu Han cooked Beijing fried rice over the portable stove on Kris’s tiny balcony. The kitchen stove is more than sufficient for cooking four cups of rice, two eggs, and a copious amount of salt- a recipe Lu Han knows by heart-, but Kris always insisted that cooking indoors left stains on his apartment walls.
If Lu Han had returned to China after the initial excitement over obtaining a degree overseas wore off, then he wouldn’t be here now, flirting with Kris between classes and tracing unsaid words on Kris’s back during kisses. In fact, Lu Han wouldn’t be kissing anyone at all.
“If any of my students walked in right now,” Kris says, pushing Lu Han away as they both turn towards the door. “I’d lose my job.”
Lu Han thinks it’s endearing that Kris is still holding onto some semblance of secrecy outside of the faculty. Anyone besides stinted old Chinese scholars can see that Lu Han didn’t sign up for this T.A. position because of his insatiable desire to correct misspelled pinyin. He doesn’t mention the way Baixian smirks at Lu Han in the hallways and the 吴老师喜欢鹿晗 notes the CHIN 201 classes has taken to leaving in the margin of their writing assignments. Chen, especially, has developed a profound grasp of the Chinese language since his days in CHIN 101.
Speaking of the devil, Lu Han thinks as he spots Chen poking his head into the doorway. “Laoshi,” Chen says, grinning at the sight of his favorite T.A. He smoothly asks Kris for help on his homework in accent-less Chinese.
“I’ll let you get back to work,” Lu Han says, taking his hands off Kris’s shoulder and heading for the door. He greets Chen and pretends not to hear Chen’s comment of “小两口~”
“Who taught you that?” Kris asks from his desk.
Lu Han laughs when he hears Chen’s reply of “You did, Wu Laoshi!”
吴老师喜欢鹿晗 = Wu Laoshi likes Lu Han
小两口= little couple
吃豆腐 = To eat tofu/slang for flirting/being a womanizer
note: I've never taken Chinese classes at college so all of my info came from my lovely dongsaeng Erica. I also have no clue how Masters of Education work lol. I did, however, spend a semester grading papers and it was Not Fun.
Notes on the Firebird, Vol 1
Kris is a famous mangaka and Chanyeol is his fan Krisyeol. G. ~2k
Upon reading that Wu-Sensei is working on a new project, Chanyeol shoots up in his seat, knocking the pencil case and notebook off his lap. When the occupants of the lecture hall shoot him dirty looks, Chanyeol laughs and slowly glances back at October’s issue of Ribon. “Baekhyun,” he hisses, lowering his voice when a girl at the front row stares at him. “Baekhyun, do you know what this means?”
“It means we’re going to fail this exam,” Baekhyun replies, flipping through his notebook. His eyes are red and Chanyeol has a suspicion that Baekhyun pulled another all-nighter. Chanyeol can taste the desperation and apathy in the room as their fellow classmates filter into the exam hall. While Baekhyun tries to cram last minute equations into his head, Chanyeol compartmentalizes. He had spent the weekend in the library, re-doing problem sets and rewriting equations. Chanyeol draws the Hodgekin-Huxley circuit on the back of his eyelids at night, visualizing the miniscule capillaries in his eyes bursting-a side effect of all that caffeine, he thinks. Baekhyun is no better, calling him at ungodly hours to ask mechanical questions about homework problems, as if Chanyeol can visualize his work and magically know which Fourier transform he copied wrong. Chanyeol can code three different types of filters in matlab, but there’s only so much enthusiasm he can invest in linear systems and signal transforms before Chanyeol stops caring entirely.
So while Baekhyun and the rest of their major congregate at the largest silent party in the engineering library, Chanyeol reads. He reads manga and lives vicariously through two dimensional characters. Last semester Chanyeol went through 15 volumes of Air Gear before Kyungsoo dragged him to their biotransport exam, where justice was dealt in confusing problems about poiseuille flow and fluid transport. At least, Chanyeol thinks, he didn’t burst out crying in the middle of the exam like that unfortunate girl in row two. While the other engineering students celebrate their masochist studying habits with heavy drinking, Chanyeol reads even more manga.
He discovered Wu- Sensei two semesters ago, in the midst of foaming at the mouth during a particular bad round of exams. The trilingual mangaka Wu-Sensei is famous for his 12 volume series about the lives of a boyband-their rise to fame and subsequent fall from stardom. It’s a long story about friendship, uncertainties, and falling in love in an era of emotional instability. Since then, the mangaka has expanded the original plot through the publication of side stories and a mini sequel. Into Your World won the 47th annual Kodansha Manga Award and is lauded as one of the more poignant series addressing the social issues of their generation. Baekhyun, on the other hand, thinks it’s overrated.
Despite the hours he spent babbling to Joomyun about plot twists and chatting with other fans online, Chanyeol agrees that Wu- Sensei’s earlier works were equally good, if not better. This new project was different, though. Chanyeol knew. He just knew.
“I’m going to do it,” Chanyeol says, clicking his mechanical pencil furiously as the T.A. begins passing out the exam. “I’m going to Sensei’s next autograph signing.”
“Please be quiet,” Baekhyun says, looking torn between laughing and crying at the same time. He pauses when the stack of exams get to him, taking one for himself and passing the rest to Chanyeol.
“Show time,” Chanyeol grins.
November comes in the blink of an eye. Chanyeol blames the bipolar weather, causing him the utmost confusion as he alternates between digging through his winter wardrobe and holding onto his summer clothes. Then again, Chanyeol is always confused to some degree-sitting in the middle of the lecture hall with glazed eyes, sleeping through powerpoint slides, and snoozing on Joonmyun’s shoulder as they stand in line for the only good coffee shop on the north campus. Baekhyun says coffee is for the weak. Baekhyun adopted a caffeine pill regiment months ago and is in a constantly battle with Kyungsoo, who tries to wrestle the bottle away from him on a weekly basis in the name of Baekhyun’s health.
Now Chanyeol stands in his thin parka, half asleep in his scarf as his forehead touches the cool surface of the metro door. He stumbles onto the platform when the door slides open, catching his balance and squeezing his way up the stairs.
Chanyeol finds DancingMachine2014 at the intersection as promised, clad in his blue hoodie and peering around equally curiously. Jongdae yelps when Chanyeol greets him from behind, spinning around to peer up at him. “You’re taller than I expected,” is the first thing Jongdae says, narrowing his eyes. When Chanyeol grins sheepishly at him, Jongdae returns the grin and says, “let’s go.”
The plaza is packed when they arrive. Chanyeol spots venue workers drawing lines with tape barriers. Chanyeol had always known that Wu- Sensei was popular, but that doesn’t stop Chanyeol from being baffled at the wide array of male and female fans alike. While Into Your World appealed to an unisexual audience, Sensei’s earlier work were more male-oriented. One of Chanyeol’s favorite series is the five-volume unlikely story of street racers which soon turns into a fantastic journey about time travel and an unlikely romance.
“I have some friends at front of the line,” Jongdae says, glancing at his cellphone. “I’m going to say hi to them, stay here okay?” He’s off before Chanyeol can reply.
Chanyeol doesn’t mind as he leans against a lamp post. Chairs from the café and outdoor vendors have been pushed aside to make room for the crowd, Chanyeol thinks about minimal wages and the year he spent working the afternoon shifts at a Japanese restaurant. Chanyeol flips through his copy of Wu-Sensei’s one volume story about an amnesia patient, tracing the notes he had scribbled on the margins of the manga-motifs and reoccurring dialogue that he had carefully marked down while ignoring Baekhyun’s comments. Reading manga allows him to be consumed by something else in a sea of violently stressed students.
“That’s my favorite too,” a stranger says next to him, giving Chanyeol a small smile.
Chanyeol grins in return, meeting the other man’s eye. It’s been a while since he’s met someone equally tall. “For a really long time I wanted Sensei to write a sequel to this, but then I realized that the ending was too poignant for a continuation.” Chanyeol doesn’t mention the night he spent wrapped up in a blanket burrito, crying indignantly while Kyungsoo made fun of him.
The stranger hums as he gives Chanyeol an acknowledging nod. “Well, I hope you enjoy the event.” He walks off just in time for Jongdae to bounce back.
“They say we can cut them in line,” Jongdae explains, helping Chanyeol squeeze through the mass of people, towards the elevated stage and his group of female friends. Chanyeol carefully evades their attempts to flirt with oblivious responses, laughing when Jongdae gives him a knowing look.
“You’ve never been to an autograph signing?” Suji asks, blinking when Chanyeol shakes his head. “Sensei is really attractive, you know.” She proceeds to gossip about the mangaka’s age, which turns into a group attack as the girls collectively tease Jongdae about sending fan mail to the artist. They stop only when someone appears on stage to introduce the man of the hour.
Chanyeol leans a little towards the railing and cranes his neck. It’s not really necessarily, given his height. He does, however, stare incredulously when the same man from before walks onto the stage to cheers from the crowd.
Wu-Sensei responds with a smile, thanking the fans for their support and going into a story about being rejected by multiple publishers before meeting his current publicist. “I used to think that no one else would enjoy my stories, but now I’m thankful for the opportunity to share the things I love with everyone.”
“Always so cheesy,” Jongdae tsks when the crowd cheers. “So typical of Wu Fan.”
“As you may know, I am currently working on a new project,” Wu Fan continues when the audience settles down. “As an artist and writer, I’m always trying to experiment with different genres and techniques. My next project will explore the social issues we’re dealing with today, from the anxiety of life post college-”
“I want to read that,” Jongdae says, “That’s a story about me. It’s just like me.”
“-And the social stigmas of loving someone of the same sex,” the artists finishes.
“That’s not like me,” Jongdae whispers just in time for Chanyeol to choke on nothing. His wheezing cuts into the baffled silence as people around them stare at Chanyeol. This includes Wu Fan, who regards him with an amused expression from the stage.
“Shonen-ai,” Suji says, holding onto Jieun. “That’s what he’s working on. Of god, Sensei is the best!” Her declaration is drowned in the crowd’s encouraging cheers. By the time Chanyeol collects himself, everyone else seems on board with the idea too.
During the actual fansigning, Jongdae has to kick Chanyeol in the leg to get his attention. Chanyeol snaps out of his dazed stupor and stumbles towards the table, lowering his head when his favorite mangaka smirks at him.
“I, too, want to tell more of this story,” Sensei says after Chanyeol recites his name dumbly. He opens Chanyeol’s volume with long fingers and signs the inside cover. “If I ask for your opinion on my future works, will you answer me truthfully?”
Chanyeol nods furiously. “Yes, of course.”
“Good,” Sensei grins, scribbling a series of numbers on the inside of the cover flip. It’s Jongdae’s turn before he knows it, and suddenly Suji is tugging on Chanyeol’s arm, asking him if Sensei complimented his name too.
“Eh,” Chanyeol says dumbly, glancing back at the line of people. “No, he didn’t.” He doesn’t dare opening his manga through lunch with his new friends, stuffing the volume into the bottom of his bag on the metro ride home. He runs up three flights of stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, ignoring Joonmyun’s greeting when he bursts through the door.
In the safety of his room, Chanyeol opens the manga and runs his fingers through Wu Fan’s telephone number, scribbled in black marker.
Wrote this when I was foaming at the mouth during exam week. I thought OH HAY WHAT IF EXO WERE ENGINEERS. Then I slept and was like lol no.
I was in China on vacation for 3 weeks, during which I had plenty of plot bunnies but was too lazy to write any of them u___u these are all rollovers from last semester. SORRY ABOUT ALL THE TYPOS. /inserts something about not sleeping, etc. ♥ Want to talk EXO? Meta? EXO Meta?? Talk to me on twitter!