𝗛𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗵𝗼 𝗢𝗻𝗲𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘁𝘀 ( 𝗢𝗻 𝗔𝗢3 ) 𝗖𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀

ᴅᴀᴍɴ ʙʀᴀᴛ 𝗯𝘆 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘆𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱

The moment Minho sees him, he already knows what he's there for.

He already knows it'll be the worst summer he'll ever have.

He seethes.

Oh, his father promised him this, alright. With his jaw clenched, brows furrowed, and Minho's high school report card half-crumpled in his hand, Minho's father promised him an entire summer of torture.

Minho just never thought he'd actually go through with it.

He never thought his father could be that cruel.

"Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Hwang," his father says cordially, with all the warmth he didn't have when he promised Minho an entire summer of learning. He smiles politely at the man, gesturing for him to sit on the modern Balinese sofa situated across the one where Minho sits with his twin brother, a low teak table the color of rich chocolate the only thing separating the space between them and saving the man from Minho's wrath.

"Please, call me Mr. Hyunnie," the man says, smiling at Minho's mother and father as he sits himself down on the sofa.

Minho glares intensely at the man, and he hopes that the breeze blowing through the open-air holiday home adds to the intimidating effect. Felix always tells him his eyes can be quite terrifying, and the lesser ones always break just from Minho's stare alone.

Felix holds Minho's hand in his own, running his thumb over the back of his hand.

Calm down, Minho knows he's trying to say. I'll talk to Dad about this.

Their father is a strict man, though. Minho knows there's no chance he'd waste money on yet another tutor and bring said tutor here, where they're supposed to be relaxing, so far away from Seoul—heck, so far away from Korea—just to send the tutor back home.

No. Their father's set on making Minho study during their goddamm vacation, and Minho's convinced they purposefully brought him out here instead of leaving him at home just so he can watch in misery as they relax while he's studying.

Minho wants to throw a tantrum.

(He knows he'll just get scolded more for it, though, so he only curls his hands into fists and digs his nails into his palms.)

Mr. Hyunnie doesn't budge from Minho's stare. When he meets Minho's eyes, he only gives him a bright, kind smile.

Minho almost scoffs.

So he's the sunshine kind.

The sunshine tutors are kind of like his brother Felix—but the Walmart version.

They always have optimistic hopes in the beginning, hopes so high even Brendon Urie's are put to shame, hoping to thaw Minho's "spoiled brat attitude" (a tutor's words, not his) with their encouraging words and warm smiles.

They have none of Felix's true sun, though—their sunshines are artificial, lukewarm.

So they're easily broken.

All of the sunshine tutors left, unsurprisingly, all of the sunlight in their bloodstream absolutely sucked dry by the despair Minho had made sure to so skillfully inject in them. Minho's parents always tried to call after them, asking them to teach Minho one more day, and they would be convinced—for a day or two, maybe—and then finally, they'd leave for sure, and Minho would triumph again.

He gives Mr. Hyunnie two days. Three, if he's being generous.

He looks like he'll break easily. Lanky and soft-hearted. After three days, he'd storm crying down the small mountain the holiday home stands on, never to look back again. Maybe he'd want to drown himself in the sea so he can quit teaching forever. Minho would be glad to help him with that.