Teacher's Pet

Teacher's Pet: Chapter Two

Louis’ stomach was in knots when he woke up in the morning, after a fitful night of sleep, mind running through Harry Style’s journal, which Louis had put on the top of the pile in his briefcase.

He sat at the kitchen table, slumped over a cup of coffee, staring distantly at the table, while lost in his own thoughts. There was something about the way the kid had written it that made Louis feel uncomfortable.

It was the word ‘learned’ that he used.

Learned.

When Louis had come out, the summer before sixth form, it wasn’t something he simply learned. It was more of something he’d known his entire life, tugging at the pit of his stomach and picking at his mind until he finally couldn’t take it anymore.

He’d come out because he was ready; because he had spent years contemplating the feelings he had when he saw a guy. He’d had a lifetime to come to terms with the fact that he was different, and that that was relatively okay in this day and age.

But he hadn’t simply learned it in a night, that wasn’t right. There was something wrong with that.

Louis’ mind was no more at ease whrn he entered the empty classroom that morning, his coffee shaking in his hands as he placed in gently on the desk and stared at the leftover stack of journals he’d have to go through.

He collapsed into the chair and tentatively reached for the first journal, but he had nothing to worry about. The other twelve journals were all the basic introductions he’d got to enjoy before he’d picked up Mr. Style’s.

Even the “Fuck Psychology” one had been easier to swallow.

He was still slouched in his chair when the bell rang, barely sitting up straight in time for the first student to push open the door, leading in the onslaught of laughter and morning chatter. Louis watched each student pass, waiting to see the mop of curly hair, but the bell rang and the door shut without him.

Louis’ eyes fell on the empty desk, the two boys from yesterday eyeing the empty seat with Louis, which peaked his attention. Perhaps they were friends. He stared for a few more seconds until he knew he’d have to start class, and stood up.

“Good Morning,” Louis called the attention of the class, waiting for most of the nineteen pairs of eyes to fall on him. “I trust you all had a lovely first day of term yesterday?”

It’s rhetorical, but a kid in front who was sporting glasses and an unfortunate haircut, took the time to answer with an enthusiastic nod.

“Right,” Louis muttered, turning back to the class, “Well, I have your journals to return. And today I want you to write about,” Louis paused, tapping his fingers on his desk and taking a moment to think of a topic. He’d planned on it being about their first day back, but his eyes fell on the blonde and brown-headed kid in the back, still staring at the empty desk. He cleared his throat.

“I want you to write about a friend you’ve helped,” he said slowly, trying to form the right words, and turning his eyes from the boys in the back, “Or would’ve liked to help.”