A/N: Hello everyone~ I’m back with a Woozi scenario! I’m not very proud of this one but I hope it’ll do :( To the anon who requested this elementary school teacher AU, I’m sorry if it isn’t like what you had in mind. After this scenario, I’m going to post a story about my experience in Diamond Edge JKT real soon! Please bear with my jam packed schedules (◕︿◕✿) [Request box is open]
Genre: Fluff, but kind of a platonic relationship.
Plot: Adorable elementary students keep talking and telling stories about Mr. Unicorn Hair to the new elementary school teacher a.k.a. you.
It was the first day of your job and so far, you’ve been enjoying every second of it. Being an elementary school teacher was hard they said, but the adorable smiles of the students in class 3-A told you otherwise. It has only been a few hours spending time with them, but they all treated you like an older sister they’ve known for life. Being a very young graduate, you had always been nervous about actually teaching in the classroom someday, about actually interacting with children. But today, the students cleared up your anxieties and you couldn’t be happier.
“Ms. _____! Ms. _____!!”
You turned around to see a group of girls chasing you down the hall. Smiling, you waited for them to catch up.
Adjusting yourself to their height, you asked the crowd. “Can I help you girls?”
“Can we eat lunch with you, Miss?” They sang and giggling, you nodded.
“Let’s go!” You said and the girls cheered, jumping up and down, running around until all of you arrived at the canteen. You sat together with them and ate lunch while listening to their stories. One of them told you about their pet goldfish, then the other told you about her favourite season. Just when you thought your table couldn’t get any noisier, a girl in ponytails ran to your group, her hands clutching onto something.
She stopped abruptly and took a deep breath before waving her clenched fists. “I got it! I got it! He let me have it!”
The other girls waited for her to show them what she was talking about and when she did, they all went wild. You took a peek at it and didn’t understand why they were all so hyped about it. It was… a strand of hair? A strand of pink hair, to be precise. The girl who had them showed it to you and asked if you wanted to hold it.
“Whose hair is it?” You asked them while observing the pink hair.
One of them immediately replied, “It’s Mr. Lee’s unicorn hair!”
“He said that if we got one hundred for our test, we can ask for anything!!”
Then they started going on and on about this Mr. Lee and his… pink hair. Since you just started today, you haven’t officially introduced yourself to the rest of the teaching staff. You haven’t known any Mr. Lee in the school but just from listening to what the girls have to say about him, you learned a lot. He’s a music teacher who, you quote, ‘can play any kind of instrument in the world’. Apparently, he has pink hair and the kids love it so much, they started asking him if they could have it. Without realising, lunch break was over and you took the girls back to their classroom.
“If you meet Mr. Lee, you can always ask to touch his hair. He’s really friendly!”
You giggled at their words and bid them good bye before wandering around the school to kill your free period. The building was surprisingly huge for an elementary school. They had a very spacey gym, an indoor swimming pool, three science labs, and a two-story library. You were walking down a hall when you heard someone playing the piano.
Curious, you tiptoed to reach the small window on top of the door to take a peek. You noticed the one playing the piano had a very soft pink hair, not needing to think twice, you knew that it was the infamous Mr. Lee. He played for awhile, then stopped to write down scribbles on the music sheets, then played again, and stopped again. It was a beautiful melody he was assembling.
The next day, you had been assigned to help Mr. Lee since his assistant went for a short trip back to his hometown. You had already been escorted to his music room before he arrived so you didn’t take it personally when he nearly dropped his coffee mug seeing you in his room. He gave you a shy smile when you introduced yourself, stuttered when saying his own name.
“What can I help you with?” He gave you a confused look, half asleep even. Then he looked around and replied.
“I guess the kids messed up the music sheets there on top of the piano, can you help me arrange them back?”
“Sure thing!” And with that, you went to do what he told you to do. You smiled when you saw that the music sheets were actually handwritten easy songs with a lot of doodles and colourful flowers around it.
The rest of the day was exciting. You had classes come for their music period and you watched how Mr. Lee taught them to play the instruments they are interested in. The boys had fun playing the drum and strumming the guitars, the girls practiced singing and danced around. They had so much energy inside their little bodies, at the end of the day, the two of you are worn out.
“Here, I brought you coffee.” He said as he placed a cup of warm coffee on your small desk.
You smiled at his understanding gesture, “Thank you, Mr. Lee-“
“Just call me Woozi. You know, most of the time the kids don’t even call me that. They just call me ‘Mr. Unicorn’ or ‘Mr. Pink hair’.” He chuckled tiredly and you did too.
“They seem to love you so much. The girls talk about you like you’re a superhero.”
He looked almost sad, “It’s just because of the hair.”
“No, of course not,” You shook your head, “They kept going on and on about how you’re so talented, how your voice is so nice, how you’re so nice to them. I’ve spent two days with them and you’re all they talk about.”
“You’re a great teacher, Mr. Lee- I mean, uh, Woozi.”
“Thank you.” He replied and sipped his coffee. “I needed that.”
a/n: I wrote this instead of doing homework. if you’re curious, I based the concept of this short on the article People Who Speak In Whistles.
When Jihoon was younger, his father taught him the art of whistling. Seeing his father with his lips puckered, hearing the high tune come spiraling out, Jihoon was enticed. Every day, he’d hear the familiar tune his father would whistle, from the moment he left for work to the moment he stepped into the house, Jihoon would cease pounding on the grand piano to hear the whistled melody that escaped his father’s mouth.
As Jihoon grew older, his blubbering attempts to whistle that always ended up with him spitting out saliva or blowing out air, all the attempts came together in one fateful morning when he blew and blew until the quietest of tune slipped his lips. At the age of five Jihoon jumped atop his father, blowing his silent tune in triumph.
Whistling became apart of Jihoon, it became a habit to whistle, while studying, while walking, while doing anything. He whistled tunes of children’s song, elevator music, the song that’s been stuck in his head for days, or that really annoying commercial with the catchy tune.
He learned to whistle differently, with his index finger and thumb, with both his pinkies, he even picked up mastering the art of whistling with a leaf. And yet, his favorite remains the same as the image he had of his father, with his lips puckered, letting the tune come out quicker than he could comprehend.
Jihoon was older now, settling in his newly shared apartment with a few other buddies. He was able to snag the bedroom with a window facing the city and not the horrible view of the next door building with the most plain brick wall.
His view consisted of the street where he spent most of his time walking on, back and forth from his classes. The view included the large tree awkwardly planted near the building to create a ‘homier’ effect is what the landlord had said.
With his window cracked open, awake at six in the morning for his morning classes, Jihoon wets his lips, letting the tune from the song he had listened to the night before come out of his mouth. And upon the melody, he hears it, with his lips suddenly pressed into a thin line, the melody continues without him, a higher tuned whistle carries the song.
“Jihoon, come on, we’re gonna be late.” The whistling stops as Seungcheol hurriedly taps on Jihoon’s door frame, showing just how hasty he was.
It was oddly comforting. Jihoon found it to be, like a spontaneous duet, Jihoon would whistle the tune and his mysterious partner would contribute. Whether it be morning, evening, or dead in the middle of the night when he’s tired of staring at his laptop screen.
“God just marry each other already.”
Jihoon nearly tumbles out of his seat, his elbow that rested on the windowsill falls quickly, catching himself before his head could bang into the window. Jihoon glares at Soonyoung, the boy stood leaning on the doorframe, a bowl of cereal chosen as that night’s dinner.
“What’s up with this whistling. You two sound like lovebirds, literally.”
Jihoon grumbles, slamming his window shut, “What do you want.”
Soonyoung grins, point his spoon at Jihoon who stares disgustingly as the milk drips onto his hardwood floor, “You know in some areas of the world, whistling is used as a secret language amongst lovers. They’ll even make secret codes in the whistles to communicate.”
Jihoon leans back in his chair amused, “and just how do you know that.”
“I did a paper on it.” Jihoon tilts his head at Soonyoung, squinting his eyes, showing just how unbelievable Soonyoung’s statement sounded. Soonyoung sighs, “okay I saw it on the history channel, Seungcheol lost the remote again and I was too lazy to get up and change the channel.”
Jihoon rubs the bridge of his nose, “no, Soonyoung, I don’t know where the remote is. Can you get out now.”
“Why? So you can talk to your lover again in the form of whistles.” Soonyoung runs out of the room at the sight of Jihoon arising from his chair.
Jihoon clicks his tongue after he’s left alone. With his window closed, he hears the faint whistle, the tune crawling through the cracks of his windows, reaching his ears, and he falls back into his seat, lifting the wooden frame of the window, huffing as he settles himself on the edge, quietly listening to the comforting sound.
“Hey y/n, we’re gonna go to the market, you need anything?” Chan throws himself on your bed, he takes a brief break from his cell phone to watch you, eyes becoming curious as you lean out your open window, “What are you doing?”
You peek your head over, lips curling at the coffee haired boy a floor below you, “just whistling.”