Chapter Text
Why did it feel like you were the one in trouble?
Your heart was racing, your stomach in knots as you pulled on the front door to the school, heaving it open and slipping nervously inside. The receptionist smiled at you as you approached the desk, and you grabbed the pen attached to the clipboard so you could sign your name and your reason for visiting.
Parent-teacher conference.
Except – it’s complicated. We’ll get to that later.
“Thank you,” you murmured as the receptionist handed you a visitor’s badge. After unpeeling the sticker and pressing it onto your shirt, you asked her where room 1219 is. You thanked her again before following the directions she’d just given you, letting out a soft sigh. The sound of your shoes echoed through the nearly empty hallways, and you wondered how many times you would have to come here. Was this a one-time thing? Or just the first of many?
The last time you’d been here was just last month when you’d come for registration; the school seemed a lot bigger now that there were hardly any people here. You passed a couple of teachers and a custodian, but there were no students or other parents to be found. By now, they were either home or at after-school sports practice.
Well, not all of them.
“Mr. Kang,” you whispered to yourself as you approached room 1219, reading the sign hanging above the door. “English.”
Oh, great. You’d always been terrible at English.
Not that this had anything to do with why you were here now, but still. Going to English had always made you nervous back when you were a student, and it was making you nervous all over again as you stepped in through the slightly open door.
“Hi,” you greeted nervously.
A young man stood up - the teacher, apparently - shooting you a small smile and gesturing for you to sit down next to a sullen, slouched over twelve-year-old boy.
“Hi, thank you for coming,” the man said as he reached out to shake your hand. “I’m Brian Kang, Samuel’s English teacher.”
“Y/N,” you replied, and you could hear your own nerves in your voice.
You slid into the chair next to Samuel, feeling him actively avoiding your gaze.
“I wanted to talk to you about…” Mr. Kang cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. “Samuel’s behavior in class has been very disruptive lately, and he hasn’t been turning in his work on time. The work he does turn in, it’s clear there’s been very little effort.”
Your heart sank.
You glanced over at the sulking pre-teen sitting next to you before shifting your gaze back to Mr. Kang.
“I’m so sorry,” you breathed. “He – by ‘disruptive’ you mean…?”
“Mostly just not paying attention. Sometimes calling out, making unnecessary comments, shooting his trash like a basketball instead of getting up and throwing it away,” Mr. Kang shrugged. “Very typical teenage boy stuff. Just not appropriate while I’m trying to teach about poetry.”
“Poetry sucks,” Samuel muttered under his breath.
Your brow furrowed immediately, and you shot him a very disapproving look.
“Please tell me he’s not that disrespectful in class,” you pleaded, already feeling guilty.
Mr. Kang simply smiled. And it was a smile meant to soften the blow.
So… the answer was ‘yes.’
“I’m just very concerned,” he told you. “I can tell he’s a bright boy, he just –”
“We’re working on it,” you assured him.
At least, you were trying.
Or I guess I should say: at least, you were trying.
After a few more minutes of listening to everything Samuel was doing wrong, nodding quickly, apologizing, and trying not to sound as guilty as you felt, you shook Mr. Kang’s hand again.
“Thank you,” you told him with a wrinkled forehead. “Thank you for all that you do. I know teaching can be a pretty thankless job, so I just want you to know how much I appreciate everything. The kids do, too, of course, they’re just –”
“They’re twelve and thirteen years old,” he finished for you, his lips pulled into a slight smirk. “Don’t worry. I knew exactly what I was getting into when I started this job.”
A soft chuckle escaped your lips, and you thanked Mr. Kang one last time before putting a hand on Samuel’s shoulder. You squeezed it gently and murmured a ‘Come on, let’s go home.’
You couldn’t wait to have a talk with him about all of this…
The walk to your car was absolutely silent.
Obviously, you were trying to think of exactly what to say and how to properly punish him for acting out like that in class.
Samuel, on the other hand, was most definitely not thinking about any of this.
If you had to guess, he was probably thinking about his video game. Either that or the best way he could escape, run away, and never come back.
Once you’d unlocked the car, Samuel opened the passenger side door and flung his backpack into the backseat. He let out a groan as he plopped onto the seat, and you robotically took your spot behind the wheel, sticking the keys into the ignition.
“Sam,” you started, reaching back for your seat belt.
“I know,” he spat. “You’re disappointed in me. I’m a failure, I’m stupid, and you wish you weren’t stuck with me.”
Your brow furrowed deeply, and you immediately turned to look at him. “Sammy! That’s not true! You know I love you, and I’m not disappointed in you. I’m disappointed that you’re acting like that in class. It’s one thing to be disrespectful to me at home, but it’s a whole other thing to be disrespectful to your teachers. That can’t happen anymore!”
“Or you’ll do what? Ground me?” he grumbled. “I don’t have to listen to you, y’know. You’re not my real mom.”
You let out a frustrated sigh as you put the car in reverse and began to back out of the parking spot. “I’m not your fake mom, either, Sam. I’m your aunt. But I’m also your legal guardian, remember? You do have to listen to me.”
“Yeah, but you don’t have any idea what you’re doing!” he pointed out. “Just like I don’t have any idea what I’m doing in English class.”
You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing softly at his comment, and while you knew you shouldn’t humor him… you did see a very faint smile tug at his lips.
“I was never good at English, either,” you admitted. “But I can still try to help you with your homework if you want me to. Or we could look into getting you a tutor, maybe?”
“No,” Sam answered firmly. “No tutor. I – I’ll just… try harder.”
“Mr. Kang seemed really nice,” you added with a half-shrug. “I can tell he cares. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have called me in.”
“I mean… yeah, he’s pretty cool, I guess. For a nerdy, old guy.”
“He is not old!” you laughed. “I doubt he’s much older than I am!”
Sam quirked an eyebrow over at you before letting out a sputtering chuckle. “Like I said. An old guy.”
“Hey!” you cried, reaching over and giving his arm a gentle pinch. “Do you want pizza for dinner tonight or not?”
“Not old! Not old at all. Very, very young.”
You hummed a somewhat sassy ‘mhm’ as you drove back to your apartment. You’d at least managed to break the ice some, but you honestly had no idea if you’d handled that well. Or even handled it at all. But… right now, you just wanted to take what you could get.
“Yeah,” you said with a smirk. “That’s what I thought.”
Not even two seconds after stepping in through the front door to your apartment, you remembered the reason you’d told Sam you could get pizza for dinner.
You had no food whatsoever.
A trip to the grocery store was extremely urgent, so once Sam got settled on the couch with his homework, you grabbed your keys and some reusable bags.
“I’ll be checking that homework when I get back, okay?” you warned with raised eyebrows.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam muttered, his eyes not even leaving his math textbook.
You reached for the doorknob but paused for just a few moments. You then turned on your heel, strode over to the couch, took hold of Sam’s head and planted a kiss on his forehead.
“I love you,” you told him.
“Ew! Yuck, ugh! Please don’t ever do that again!”
In pre-teen speak, you knew that meant he loved you, too.
“I’ll be back soon,” you grinned as you headed back to the door. “Call me if you think of anything you want. Or if someone breaks in and tries to kidnap you.”
“Yeah, yeah!” Sam called out after you. Apparently, that was his favorite way to respond to you.
Since you now had the car to yourself - and you were no longer nervous about having to talk to Sam’s teacher - you took the opportunity to blast your favorite songs and sing along.
Music had always been a stress reliever, so you’d found yourself listening to a lot of music these days. Whenever you had a spare moment by yourself, whenever you drove to and from work, whenever Sam went to a friend’s house for the night, you put on some music. Singing, dancing, acting like you’re in a music video - you name it, you did it. And you probably disturbed your neighbors, but oh well.
Even once you arrived at the grocery store, you continued singing to yourself, humming under your breath as you pushed the cart in through the sliding doors.
Just like listening to music helped relieve your stress, so did grocery shopping. Walking up and down the aisles and seeing all of the different choices of cereal should have actually added to your stress, but it didn’t. Because at the moment, so much of your life seemed out of your control. You had very little opportunities to actually make choices, but you did with grocery shopping.
You very much enjoyed standing in the coffee and tea aisle, deciding which flavors to buy. Chamomile? Rooibos? Earl Grey? Vanilla Hazelnut? Dark roast? Blonde roast? Green? Pumpkin spice? Cinnamon?
Sometimes you didn’t even need coffee or tea, but you still enjoyed pretending to pick one out.
…Yeah, it’s kind of weird, but oh well.
You had just left the coffee and tea aisle, in fact, a box of Rooibos and a canister of Vanilla Hazelnut in your cart, when you turned down the breakfast aisle. Somebody was standing right at the end, though, and you almost ran into them with your cart.
“Oh, sorry!” you said immediately.
And then your eyes landed on a young man.
Or maybe an old man, according to Sam.
“Mr. Kang,” you grinned.
“Oh, hey,” he smiled back, lifting up a hand in a little wave. “Mrs. Y/L/N, nice to see you again so soon.”
“Sam’s back home doing his homework, I promise,” you assured him, feeling a slight pang of guilt in your stomach. “And – it’s, uh – it’s Miss. Not Mrs. I – I’m not married.”
God, this would all be a whole lot easier if you were, to be quite honest.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mr. Kang apologized.
“No, it’s fine. I mean, Sam and I have the same last name, so it’s easy to assume.”
And… I don’t know. There was something about this junior high English teacher that was just… comforting. Was it his eyes? Or his smile? The way he seemed to really be intently listening to you?
Either way, you felt it.
The word vomit.
“I’m not actually Sam’s mom,” you began. “I don’t know if you know anything about the situation… I’m his aunt. His dad was my brother, so there’s the last name thing explained. But, uh, his parents – there was an accident not even four months ago. And I’m kind of the only family Sam has? I mean, around here. His mom’s side of the family lives halfway across the country, but they wanted him to stay in the same area. He did have to move schools, which I know sucks for him, but – yeah. So, I think his behavior – the way he’s acting in your class – I mean, he never talks to me about them. He never tells me he misses them, but I know he has to. I ask him, but I just can’t get him to talk about anything. He has to be just holding everything in, and it all comes out at school, y’know?”
Mr. Kang’s brow had furrowed as you spoke, and he nodded at your question. Truly, it really did seem like he was interested. Even though you were most definitely bothering him and telling him way too much information that he did not even ask for, he seemed like he was really listening. Like he actually wanted to know all of this.
Of course, tears had pricked your eyes the second you’d said the word ‘accident,’ and you were currently trying to swallow the lump of emotion lodged in your throat. Your voice had gotten choked up, but you carried on.
“I just don’t know how to help him. I try, I really do. I’ve known Sam his whole life, but I’ve always been the Cool Aunt. But now I have to be the Mom, but I know I’ll never be his mom. And now he’s not doing his homework and he’s being disrespectful, and I just –” You let out a shaky breath. “It’s very overwhelming.”
Mr. Kang reached out and put a reassuring hand on your upper arm. “I am so sorry,” he murmured, his words very clearly showing on his face. “I had no idea. I teach so many kids, it’s difficult to know about every one of them.”
And then he looked at you. He studied your face carefully before taking a breath and letting his hand fall from your arm.
“Would you like to get some coffee somewhere? I feel like there’s just… a lot more you need to talk about.”
Boy, was he right. He didn’t even know how right he was.
You reached up to wipe a stray tear threatening to slip from your eye and nodded.
“I would like that,” you answered.
A tiny smile appeared on Mr. Kang’s lips, and he moved to hold onto the handle of his shopping cart. “Do you know that shop The Grind?”
You nodded, humming positively.
He pushed his sleeve down to check his watch, brow furrowing slightly in thought. “How about 7?”
“Perfect.” It would give you plenty of time to get back home, stop for the pizza, put the groceries away, and shove a slice or two down your throat.
“All right, 7 it is.” A full-on smile came to his lips then, and you realized just how good-looking he was. You would bet all the money in your wallet right now that a lot of girls at Sam’s school (and some boys, too) had a crush on him. Sam, himself, had said he was ‘pretty cool,’ so that had to account for something.
“See you then.”
And before you let yourself apologize for being a bother - I mean, the man had simply been trying to grocery shop and then you’d come and started crying, for Pete’s sake - you pushed your cart down the aisle and continued on with your shopping.
There would be plenty of time to apologize later.