The heirs strawberry tutor

The law library on the fourth floor of Korea University smelled like old paper and floor wax, and Ahn Iseo liked it for that reason. No one talked on the fourth floor.

He had claimed the same desk since freshman year. The one at the end, near the heater that rattled. His backpack was too big for him — second-hand, the zipper broken and held together by a safety pin. Inside the backpack were printouts he had begged for from the copy room, a half bottle of water, and three strawberry milk suppresant patches. He cut them in half to make them last longer.

He was counting.

“Business Law reprint, 4,000. Civil code print, 2,000. Suppressants…..” He stopped. He had 18,000 Won left until his convenience store shift on Friday. If he bought patches, he wouldn't have money for dinner tomorrow.

He put the patches back and put his head down on his law book. He was 21, on a full scholarship, top of the department, and he was so drained and tired that his eyes stung.

On the other side of the library, Kang Taejoon was bored.

He was sprawled across two chairs, his varsity jacket off, white t-shirt, and hair still damp from his morning gym. He was 22, third year business major, heir to Kang Logistics. His penthouse in Seongsu had five empty rooms and a fridge his housekeeper filled even when he wasn't there. He had failed Business Law on purpose because he didnt feel like studying.

“Hyung, you're gonna fail for real this time,” his friend, Minho whispered, kicking his chair. “Your Dad is gonna kill you.”                                                               Taejoon didn't look up from his phone. “He'll pay for a professor to fix it. He always does.”                         

“Not this Professor. Professor Kim hates your guts. You need like…a miracle tutor.” Taejoon finally looked up, just to look for some thing to stare at that wasn't his phone. And that is when he saw him.

At the end of the desk. Small. Thin black sweater with the sleeves pulled over his hands. Black hair cut neat. He wasn't doing anything interesting. Just sleeping on a law textbook with his mouth a little open, a cheap suppressant patch half-peeled at the back of his neck.

Strawberry Milk.

The scent hit Taejoon even from three tables away, sweet and soft, but faint as if its trying hard to be hidden. “Who's that?“ Taejoon asked.

Minho followed his gaze “Ahh him? Ahn Iseo. Orphan. Scholarship kid. Number one every semester. He works at the GS25 near the back gate. He's cold. Never talks to anyone. Thinks he's too good.“

“He doesn't think he's too good.” Jiwon, another friend added with a sneer, “He's just poor and proud. My girlfriend tried to give him her old notes, he said no. He's like seriously cold.”

Taejoon couldn't stop staring. Iseo's jacket was hanging on the back of his chair. It was thin, not even a winter jacket, and it was February. His shoes were worn at the heel.

He had a penthouse with heated floors and five empty bedrooms. This boy had a patch he was cutting in half. Something possessive and ugly and spoiled curled in Taejoon's stomach. It wasn't nice.

And it certainly wasn't love. It was the same feeling he got when he saw a limited edition watch or a stray cat in the snow.

I want it.

“Bet you can't make him date you,” Minho said, jokingly. “He rejected the basketball captain last year.”

Taejoon smiled. Slow, lazy, heir-smile. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long do I get?”

Minho laughed and stopped when he saw the expression on Taejoon's face. “You serious? Fine, this semester. Three months left. If he brings you lunch and calls you oppa… I mean hyung — you win. I'll pay you 5 million won…How's that?“

It was a dumb, stupid bet. A bored, rich boys' game. But Taejoon had been bored for months. Models, Idols, Influencer girls who all wanted his card, they all said yes too fast. Made it too easy.

He wanted something that said no.

“I don't want your pennies,” Taejoon said, standing up and picking his Business Law textbook. “I want you to stop sitting in my seat at the rooftop bar.”

He walked across the quiet library. His shoes were loud on the waxed floor, everyone looked up, Iseo didn't.

Taejoon stopped right in front of Iseo's desk. Up close the scent of strawberry milk was stronger.

Strawberry milk. Warm skin. Cheap paper.

“Hey” Taejoon said.

Iseo jolted awake, his eyes wide. He had big, tired eyes. He stared at Taejoon for 3 seconds, then at the textbook in his hand. “You're in my light,” Iseo said, his voice hoarse from sleep. Not meaning to be rude, just tired.

Taejoon almost laughed. No one in his 22 years, had ever told Kang Taejoon he was in their light. “You're Ahn Iseo, right? Top of Business Law?”

Iseo blinked, more awake now, pulling the sleeves of his sweater down.

“Yes.”

“I failed. Professor Kim said if I don't get my grades up, I'll have to retake,” Taejoon said. Iseo just looked at him, wondering if he just disturbed his nap to tell him about his problems.

“Tutor me. I'll pay you, 50,000 won an hour.” Iseo's fingers twitched. 50,000 won was a lot, that was two shifts at the GS25. “I'm busy,” Iseo said automatically. He always said that.

“I'll come to you. Or you can come to my place. My place is quiet. I'll feed you. Whatever you want.”

That made Iseo look up properly. His face was still cold, but ears were a little red. “I live in a goshiwon,” he said quietly, as if confessing. “It's small.”   

Taejoon already knew. He had heard Minho say it in passing. But hearing Iseo say it in that small voice made that possessive feeling worse.

Good. He wanted to take him out of that box.

“I live in Seongsu Lotus. The big one. There's a study room. A kitchen and heating that works,” Taejoon said like he was listing features of a dollhouse. “Come today. 6 p.m, I'll send you a car. You can teach me...tutelage”

“Tutoring,” Iseo corrected.

“Tutoring,” Taejoon repeated with a smile. He was handsome when he smiled like that, spoiled and soft. “Same time tomorrow too, if you're good.”

Iseo stared at the 50,000 won. At his empty water bottle and cheap suppresant patches. He thought about dinner tomorrow.

“Okay,” he said. “It's just tutoring.”

“Just tutoring,” Taejoon agreed, too fast. He walked back to his friends. Minho mouthed “You're crazy.” Taejoon wasn't listening. He was already texting his housekeeper:

Buy strawberry milk. A lot. And buy a small blanket.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Lotus penthouse was not a house. It was a hotel.

Iseo had never stepped in a building where the elevator needed a card. The driver Taejoon sent was in a black suit. He opened the door and said “Ahn Iseo-nim” like Iseo was someone important.

When the elevator door opened, Taejoon was waiting in socks, a towel over his head and wearing a big sweatshirt that was written 'KOREA UNIVERSITY' in big, bold letters. He looked younger like this. “You came,” he said, like he hadn't been sure.

Iseo clutched his broken backpack. “You said 50,000 won an hour.“

“Yeah, come in. Shoes here”

The floor was warm. The whole place smelled like Taejoon — expensive, clean, alpha, but underneath it, now, strawberry milk because Iseo was here. The  study room was bigger than Iseo's place. A whole wall of windows looking at Seoul.

“Do you want to eat first, I ordered chicken,” Taejoon said.

“We should study. Business Law Chapter 3 —”

“I don't care about chapter 3,” Taejoon Interrupted, not in a mean way. He was staring at Iseo's neck again, where the cheap patch was peeling. “Your patch is going to fall off.”

Iseo's hand flew to his neck, embarrassed. “It's…It's old. It's fine.”

“It's not fine. You'll leak your scent everywhere. What if someone —” Taejoon stopped himself. He then went to drawer and pulled out a new box of suppressants. Expensive, pharmacy brand, not convenience store. Strawberry scented, premium. The kind the lasted 30 days.

“Use this. I bought it for my…cousin. But you can have it.” Lie. He bought it after the library.

Iseo stared at the box. It cost 45,000 won. For one.

“I can't —”

“As part of your pay. Tutoring supplies,” Taejoon said quickly. “Besides, how do you expect me to focus with your scent leaking out?”

Iseo slowly took one. Their fingers brushed. Taejoon's hand was so warm.

“Bathroom's there.” Taejoon pointed. Iseo went into the bathroom to change it.

This patch didn't itch. It was soft and warm from his skin and it smelled like real strawberries, not chemicals. Iseo thought it was supposed to block more, but instead it was making his scent sweeter instead — like it was letting out on purpose. Like it wanted to be smelled.

When he came back, Taejoon was still on the floor, law book upside down.

“Article 1,” Iseo said, trying to sound cold again, kneeling down and opening his own book a little to far from Taejoon. “What is a contract. Read it.” Taejoon didn't read it.

“You're not looking at me.”

“Because you're not looking at the book.”

“I can't. You smell too much”

Iseo tried again, asking him to read other parts of the text, but Taejoon wouldn't coorperate. Iseo closed his book. Loud.

“You're not focusing. This was a mistake,” he said, voice shaking a little but not from cold. He stood up, shoving his printouts into his backpack. “I should go. Keep your money, this was a waste of  —” he didn't finish.

Taejoon stood up too — fast — and Iseo, startled, stepped back without thinking until his back hit the bookshelf, right next to the big window. Taejoon was right there. Taller. Grey sweatshirt, damp hair, expensive Alpha scent now mixed so thick with strawberry that Iseo's knees went weak.

He put one hand on the bookshelf, next to Iseo's head. Not touching him, just caging him in.

“Don't,” Taejoon said. Low.

Iseo clutched his backpack strap. “Don't what?”  Taejoon's eyes zeroed on his lips.

His heart skipped. Blood ran hot.

His pheromones leaked out before he could stop them. Clean, expensive — Alpha — thick in the study room, too much. Too close.

Iseo's knees gave out. Overwhelmed, he slid down until he was sitting on the floor. Backpack still clutched to his chest, looking up at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Iseo was on the floor.

His back was against the bookshelf, backpack clutched to his chest like a shield. His cheap black sweater had ridden up a little. The new premium patch on his neck was warm, pulsing strawberry milk too sweet now because Taejoon's pheromones were everywhere.

Vanilla and cedar.

It wasn't what Iseo expected from an Alpha heir. He expected something sharp, cologne that could buy him a house. Taejoon smelled like a blanket from the dryer and the inside of an expensive closet. Like winter, but warm.

“Sorry,” Taejoon said instantly. He pulled his hand back from the bookshelf and took a big step back. “Shit, sorry. Did I — did I scare you? I didn't mean to —”

He was panicking. His ears were redder than Iseo's. He opened the window a crack, even though it was February, letting cold air in.

Iseo couldn't speak. His suppressants had never reacted like this. The premium patch was supposed to be stronger, but vanilla was making strawberry sweeter and his head was fuzzy.

“I — I should go,” Iseo whispered, but he didn't get up. His leg wouldn't cooperate.

“You can't,” Taejoon said. “You haven't taught me Article 1.” He knelt down. Slowly this time, so he was on the floor too, at Iseo's level.

Grey sweatshirt, big knees, law book between them.

“Article 1,” Taejoon repeated, opening the book right side up. “What is a contract. Is it when…two people agree to something?” Iseo blinked. “Yes. Offer and acceptance.”

“Okay.” Taejoon looked at him. “So I offer…stay here until 8. I order dinner. You get 50,000 won plus dinner. Do you accept?”

Iseo's stomach growled.Loud. In the quiet penthouse. Taejoon pretended not to hear it, but smiled.

“…Accept,” Iseo mumbled, opening his book. “Article 1 is an offer and acceptance. Article 2 is….”

For the next hour Taejoon actually tried. He sat too close, but he wrote notes. His handwriting was big and messy. He kept asking dumb questions to make Iseo talk longer.

“What does this mean?” “Why?” “Please explain again?”

The vanilla cedar scent calmed down as he focused. And because Iseo was calm, the strawberry stopped leaking so sweet. It became soft again, hidden under the new patch. By 7:40, Iseo was tired. The warm floor, the full stomach from the chicken Taejoon ordered, in which he ate four pieces, the heated humming softly —

He fell asleep. Head tipped back against the bookshelf, mouth open a little, law book on his knees. Taejoon stopped writing.

He stared.

Iseo's patch had curled again at the edge from sweat, but this time it didn't smell stressed. It smelled like warm milk. His thin sweater sleeve had a hole near the wrist. His shoes were by the door, sole worn down.

Taejoon reached out, very slowly and pulled the small blanket he had told his housekeeper to buy over Iseo's legs.

He didn't kiss him. He didn't touch his neck.

He just sat there and looked at him, and that possessive feeling from the library was worse now, because Iseo was asleep in his apartment and he belonged here more than he belonged in that goshiwon.

Then he put his book down and stayed on the floor watching Iseo sleep, until 8 became 9, and Iseo still didn't wake up.