TDOTO 4.3 [Part 2]

Tossing and turning, Jae-an’s eyelids fluttered, slowly opening. The window was dark; night had fallen.

“Ah…”

He must’ve dozed off, slumped sideways on the sofa. Sweat beaded on his feverish forehead. Rubbing his eyes, he froze, noticing a figure beside him.

Jae-rim leaned against the sofa, flipping through the math workbook. The amber glow of indirect lighting softly illuminated his long fingers, twirling a mechanical pencil.

“Awake?”

The low voice pierced his ears, confirming this wasn’t a dream. That finely sculpted, porcelain-like face sometimes clashed with his deep tone.

“Oh, yeah.”

Grasping the situation late, Jae-an answered slowly. Jae-rim nodded at the workbook, asking,

“You solved this for hours. Is it fun?”

“Just…”

“You looked like you were enjoying it.”

Jae-rim turned, wrinkling his nose slightly.

“Did I?”

Needing to reply but lacking words, Jae-an mumbled. Jae-rim glanced back at the workbook, shaking his head.

“Don’t get it at all.”

“…You don’t need to anymore.”

“True, but…”

Jae-rim trailed off, scribbling a few times. His grip on the pencil looked oddly awkward.

Yet, his furrowed brow and focused expression echoed the youthful high school Jae-rim, making it hard for Jae-an to look away.

Scribbling over Jae-an’s old equations, Jae-rim tilted his head, letting out a short groan. Seeing him get worked up over a high school math problem highlighted their age gap.

After more scribbling, Jae-rim gave up, his sigh laced with irritation.

“Why can’t I solve what I used to?”

“You forget if you don’t practice.”

“You solved them all.”

“I’m a math teacher. I should.”

Was, he thought, answering limply. Jae-rim thrust the workbook forward.

“Isn’t it just multiplying these two and adding the rest to get a polynomial?”

Jae-an tilted his head reflexively, reading the problem.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“But why multiply by 2 here?”

“Since you’ll divide by 2x+1 to find the quotient…”

Starting to explain instinctively, Jae-an paused.

“Really explain it?”

“Is there fake explaining?”

“Not that… it just feels weird.”

“You’re hooked on calling me weird lately. I’m serious.”

Avoiding Jae-rim’s sharp tone and eyes, Jae-an took the workbook and pencil, wiping sweaty palms. Scanning the crooked equations for errors, he felt Jae-rim’s quiet gaze on his profile.

“When you tutored me like this, I loved it. I lived for those moments.”

“…Really?”

Helping Jae-rim’s grades climb was rewarding and joyful. It was a happy memory for Jae-an, too.

But Jae-rim’s “loved” now felt loaded, likely because knowing his true feelings had broken their bond, making Jae-rim unsettling.

Just tutoring.

Repeating it inwardly, Jae-an answered softly,

“…I liked it too.”

Solving the workbook had steeped him in longing for those days, making his reply stir his heart further.

Spotting Jae-rim’s mistake, Jae-an circled it, meeting his eyes.

“You messed up here. You’ve got the polynomial formula down, but this part’s tricky…”

Was his initial wariness overblown? Jae-rim listened intently, even twitching an eyebrow at Jae-an’s explanation, solving the problem correctly.

The page had similar problems, so Jae-rim solved two more, getting them right. But the hardest one stumped him, and he shoved the workbook back.

“No clue.”

Two grown men puzzling over a workbook at night felt absurdly funny, and seeing Jae-rim try so earnestly sparked memories, drawing a small laugh from Jae-an.

“It’s tough. Here’s how…”

Jae-rim’s eyes caught Jae-an’s faintly upturned lips. Unaware he’d smiled, Jae-an continued in a softened voice.

“Unlike the others, sort it in descending order first—”

But Jae-rim’s hand brushed his thigh. Jae-an flinched, though Jae-rim threw a question.

“Then?”

“Uh, yeah. So… you don’t need to think about the degree here…”

All his nerves focused on Jae-rim’s hand, but Jae-rim listened seriously. Sitting close, it might’ve been accidental contact, and Jae-an could be overreacting. He tried to focus.

“Just use the coefficient…”

He subtly shifted his thigh. But soon, Jae-rim’s hand returned.

“Like this…”

Copying Jae-an’s equations, Jae-rim rested his large hand on Jae-an’s thigh like a stand. Whether due to proximity or intent, the touch’s ambiguity—its pressure and posture—left Jae-an frozen, wary.

“Why keep stopping?”

Jae-an pursed his lips at Jae-rim’s question. He wanted to speak but lacked courage. Eyes averted, he mumbled,

“No, your hand…”

“What?”

“…Keeps touching. It’s… cold.”

Worried about offending, he added an excuse, but Jae-rim ignored it, staring at the paused pencil.

“So, what do I do with the coefficient?”

“…I’ll explain if you move it.”

“What’s it matter? I didn’t gag you.”

The sudden, sexually charged pun made Jae-an whip his head around. It was intentional.

Not wanting to continue, he scribbled the equations. His feverish body flushed with shame.

“Done. Number three’s the answer.”

Finishing hastily, Jae-an dropped the pencil and pulled away from Jae-rim.

Seeing his obvious panic, Jae-rim’s lips curled.

“Man, tutoring after so long is fun.”

Opening a cigarette pack on the table, Jae-rim lit one. Each movement made Jae-an tense. Jae-rim’s eyes narrowed, watching with interest.

“Hyung, will you teach me math from now on?”

“What…?”

“You said you liked teaching me.”

Jae-an shook his head. The discomfort from Jae-rim’s touch lingered vividly.

“Tutoring out of nowhere…”

As smoke trailed from Jae-rim’s lips, he flicked ash onto the workbook. Jae-an’s face paled as the paper smoldered, but Jae-rim smiled, eyes crinkling.

“Oh, does it sound like I’m asking?”

“….”

“Just say yes when I tell you to teach.”

It’s not hard, Jae-rim said, wrinkling his nose, voice low and deliberate. The smile didn’t match the oppressive pressure. Jae-an’s heart pounded, teeth clenched.

He knew he should answer, but his tongue wouldn’t move—half from fear of Jae-rim’s next move, half from a shred of pride.

“Do it at the restaurant. Like a date, like before.”

“….”

“Right?”

Jae-rim urged again, patient yet pressing. The amber light cast shadows on his face, but no matter the warmth, his aura remained cold.

“Sticking to the house because you like it?”

He spoke as if refusing wasn’t an option, questions piling on.

“I’m fine with that, but acting so tempting here, who knows what I’d do…”

Fixing his golden eyes on Jae-an’s sealed lips, Jae-rim’s smile twisted. His growing impatience and roughening tone showed his limit nearing.

“…Fine. At the restaurant.”

Overwhelmed, Jae-an mumbled a reply. Jae-rim snorted mockingly. Standing, he scratched the back of Jae-an’s neck, like petting a dog.

“Good. I get wanting fresh air sometimes.”

Blaming subtly, Jae-rim withdrew his hand. No gag, no kiss, yet every touch sprouted mold-like discomfort.

Humiliation, shame, anger, and injustice crushed Jae-an, freezing him. Jae-rim brushed past, leaving the bedroom. Only then did Jae-an exhale shakily.

“Haa…”

The workbook and pencil on the table suddenly seemed dangerous. The glossy, sweet memories of youth melted, sticking to his fingers.

Jae-rim had ruined his present and future, and now he was clawing into his past.