"This isn't how it's supposed to go." I mutter to myself as I trudge my way back into V's supposed classroom. "This isn't."

He'd killed people— was in prison for eleven years. Killed more people— and doesn't even have a record.

And now because of a stupid school without any stupid common sense, he was now my teacher. My professor— and needless to say, it was making me angry.

He was lucky I loved him.

"Detention's supposed to be in the detention room," I drone, crossing my arms together. He looks at me in amusement as he shakes his head slowly.

"I just changed that rule. Detention's in here for today."

"V—" I growl darkly, striding towards his wide desk. He casually turns his chair to face me as I slam both my hands down on the antique wood.

"You're not going to actually make me clean stuff up, are you?" I deadpan, eyes turning more panicked by the second as his smile becomes wider.

"Are you?"

"No, I'm not." He laughs, shaking his head at my relieved expression. "I just gave you detention to have you stay here with me."

The sweetness is back, and I can't help myself. "Thank God. I honestly thought you gave me detention to get a huge rise out of me."

A guilty smile dances on his lips as he admits quietly.

"That— might've been part of the reason as well."

"V!" I exclaim as he waves me over to his side. "I trusted you!"

He pulls over a chair for me next to him, a smile still pulling on his perfect lips. The papers he'd used for the lesson lie scattered on the desk, and my eyes glide over the equations and formulas he'd scribbled on the corners.

"You must be a genius," I murmur, wondering where he could be if he had a normal life, a normal family. "You could've been a Harvard professor, with that brain of yours."

At my awed statement, all he does is shrug absentmindedly as he attempts to tidy up the mess.

"I'll help you," He says, pulling out a blank piece of paper. "You looked— more than lost earlier, Tzuyu. I don't want you to fail my class."

"Math is just tricky," I defend, an instinctive wince shaping my features when I realize that he was aiming to help me— which automatically meant more studying. "Everything else is fine, I promise."

"Sit down."

I sigh.

"Yes, professor."

He laughs when I slump down on the chair, fully knowing that him smiling immediately unraveled all my anger. Watching him be happy couldn't help but make me happy as well— since I'd seen so much of his other side.

"You'll adjust even—"

"Professor...uh, Kim?" A masculine voice echoes from the door, and V instantly points to one of the front most desks. He shoves a random piece of paper in my hands as I hurry to act like I'd been studying whatever gibberish he'd written down on the edges.

What kind of weird magic had he done to make a Q equal to a Z?

My eyes flicker up to the door as V opens it to reveal a dark-haired student. There's no doubt that he's a senior—

"Hello, Professor. I'm Professor Jeon— and one of the other teachers sent me to get you for the mandatory meeting today. They assumed you didn't know about it because, first day and all that."

Professor?

There was no way he was a professor. He looked even younger than V, with wide doe eyes and a and a childlike face. And the shock in my face grows even further when I learn that he teaches Physical Education.

He had to be new as well.

"Mandatory meeting?" V repeats, voice nearly containing as much surprise as mine. "Today?"

Professor Jeon's eyes flicker over to me, and I quickly scribble something random to make it seem like I was working.

"If it's not a problem for you, you could bring her as well." He says, and this time, I can't help my eyes to fix on the two men. "The detention monitor is absent today, and it's a good chance for her to meet the new team of teachers."

New team? They fired the entire last year's team of professors?

"Yeah— yes," V quickly nods, motioning for me to follow as the dark-haired man leads us out of the classroom.

__________________________

The moment we walk into the room, the first thing I see is at least four men throwing bags of chips at each other. And by the annoyed look on Professor Jeon's face, this happened more than once.

"Hyungs," He hisses, finally getting the others' attention. "Put the chips down."

"You brought a student here?" One of them shrieks, and I flinch. My feet are already ready to leave when V grips my sleeve.

His face is practically begging for me not to leave him alone in the sea of strangers.

"She doesn't have anywhere else." Professor Jeon says, shoving the nearest professor back down in his chair. "Besides, all the other students are in free period— she has detention, and the monitor's gone."

All of these professors...

They're so young.

And I hadn't been wrong when I'd assumed they'd fired the last year's team— none of these faces looked familiar at all.

"Well, then. I'm guessing you already know Jungkook teaches Physical Education—" I turn my head to face a man with hair dyed a ash silver, warm smile on his face.

"My name's Jimin. And I'll be your Biology Professor."

"She looks like a freshman— we're in charge of juniors, not the newbies." A mint-haired man says as he stretches out between two chairs.

"I am a junior," I shoot back, my overwhelming anxiety retreating a step at the annoying comment. "How old are you?"

"Twenty two," He says, picking at his fingernails. "And already a Chemistry genius."

"Shut up, hyung." A man says, not even bothering to look up with his nose buried in a thick novel titled The History of Mayan Civilization.

He finally looks up at my dazed stare, flashing deep dimples.

"Sorry for his behavior. He might be talented at making things explode, but he skipped the mannerism section at school. I'm Namjoon, History Professor."

And then he looks back down into his book, seeming like he isn't going to look back up again.

"You're Kim... Taehyung?" Another man asks, and I would've thought he would be someone respected if I hadn't just witnessed him jump on a person for a Banana Kick.

"How old are you? We all faked our real ages here— because the minimum is, what, twenty four? So it's perfectly fine if you tell us."

I don't miss the panic that flashes through V's eyes when the man claps his back— signs of his haphephobia. Even though he'd grown used to my touch, it didn't mean that he wasn't affected from other's.

But I'm relieved he doesn't slap the man's hand away, because his intentions had seemed purely friendly.

"Nineteen."

"Finally!" The ash haired man shouts, his eyes alight with excitement. "You had no idea how much torture it is to be sandwiched between four hyungs and a stupidly strong maknae."

What were these geniuses doing here? Why would they choose a school like this to teach in if they could teach in Seoul or even Harvard?

"Yay," Professor Jeon drones, not sounding excited at all despite using the term for excitement. "I'm still the maknae."

"No way," I cut off, eyes sparking. "You are eighteen? And you teach in a high school— you're supposed to be a junior like me!"

"I'm a full package," He says jokingly, although I doubt what he's saying isn't truth at all. "I went into high school when I was eleven, and I played every sport you can imagine."

"You think that's special?" Hoseok exclaims, pointing at Jimin. "That kid's worked for NASA since he was eight! And then, you quit, right?"

"It was too lonely there," Jimin says, shrugging. "Everyone looked at me like I was some alien they needed to investigate or something."

Oh.

"Why are you all here?"

I realize that I'd wondered that out loud only when all six men look at me.

I swallow.

"Because I want to feel how it's like to be a normal professor at a normal school," Jimin speaks up, and there's a sadness to his eyes when he says that. "Even though there wouldn't ever be a complete normal."

"Me too," Hoseok sighs, twiddling with an empty bag of chips. "Too stressful at a place like Harvard. They expect all the professors there to be like forty or something."

"People want to be geniuses, but they don't know how hard it is to be eleven among a bunch of tall seniors," Jungkook breathes, crossing his arms. "They don't know anything about how lucky they are."

V's face turns pale, and I can tell that he agrees. All the people in here want us to be normal, and suddenly, I feel guilty that I am the closest thing to that definition.