𝓑𝓲𝓷𝓭 S. Aizawa

Chapter 82 | Just Maybe, Enough

I came back to the present as I was breathing heavily keeping my eyes dead on the coffee maker. The coffee machine beeped loudly and I fumbled to grab the handle. I composed my self and handled it, offering it to him. He grabbed it, barely brushing my fingers and I subtly snatched my hand back. I kept the idea of friends in my head, reassuring myself as my eye twitched.

"How many of these do you want me to make, your highness?" I asked, calmly.

"They aren't that good, this will be my last." He said.

I hinged my jaw to keep my mouth from gaping.

"Delicious." He said, pouring more than half out into the sink, then swigging the rest.

"You-" I started, teeth grating.

He gave the mug to me and turned for the door.

Don't say anything snide, you made the coffee up to him so you're off the hook. Just shut up.

"Fuck you, asshole." I said almost loud but almost a murmur, I was fighting myself.

He stopped in his tracks.

My breath hitched and my fingers started to fidget nervously.

"What?" He asked, not moving, or turning to me.

"Nothing."

"No, go ahead." He said, waiting to hear what I said.

I feel like he already knew but maybe I could play it off.

"I said, Good luck, you might pass Cole on the way out." I put on a fake smile, hoping for the best.

I rhymed the best way I could, making it sound alike, did he hear me or not? He can't be that mad over just some stupid words.

"O-kay." He sounded it out, it sent a chill down my spine, the two part word sounded so smooth. It scared me.

He had to know, he knew, but with that he left the room, rather quick. I groaned.

Fear washing over me I started to pace back and forth. What is going to happen tonight? I know I've just been subconsciously worrying about it but now I'm terrified. He had to have known what I just said, otherwise he wouldn't have stopped to make me repeat myself. He knows, and I'm not off the hook anymore. I'm fucked.

I ran my fingers through my hair in terror, deep in thought on the possible ways he might ultimately kill me. I pulled myself together after a few minutes and decided it's no use trying to guess what he'll do, he's unpredictable. Then, I opened the door and strode down the hallway back to the class.

I paused for a minute at the doorway than opened it quietly. Aizawa sat in his seat, not even glancing my way as his face was solid. I'm terrified to say the least. He looks angry, or maybe that's how he always looks? I don't know, maybe I'm worrying too much.

I walked over to sit in my chair beside him and I swear he shifted away, but maybe I'm wrong, it was quick.

The students had their heads down staring at their work. Except for the few that had watched me walk in and sit down, their eyes stuck. I have to look fucking ridiculous, I sure feel ridiculous. I've never worn anything like this, I feel exposed, it doesn't feel like me. Did he pick it out to embarrass me? I feel hideous, everyone is staring at me.

I need to make myself busy with something, I'm thinking too much, too deeply, and it's overwhelming me. I can't be consumed by thoughts that could honestly mean nothing later. I'm only wearing this for today.

I reached for the drawers that was between me and Aizawa, my nerves getting the best of me. My palm and fingers were almost slick with sweat, and as I leaned over it was too far. My fingers slipped in the handle twisting into a pinch, and I gave what was between a choked sob and a whimper. Not loud but Aizawa reacted, clenching his hand on his seat, then instantly grabbing my wrist.

He lifted me up and strode past me, dragging me behind him. He swung the door open and it shut automatically behind us. He shoved me to the wall and stood in front of me.

"What the fuck, was that." He breathed out.

What was what? The hand twist? That's a confusing question. He saw what happened why does he need to ask? All I did was injure myself a little, it was just a pinch. It was enough to hurt me a bit, but it didn't make me bleed or kill me. What, does he want to put a band-aid on it after giving it a kiss?

Hold on, if he was worried about the injury he would have taken me to the nurses office. He wouldn't have pulled me out here. Do I look into the context clues of this situation? Am I thinking to deep about this? He's probably just wondering how I hurt myself. No, again, he wouldn't have taken me to the nurse, and he already saw how.

Wait, in the class he clenched his hand on his chair, for support? Support for what? Then he came out here and asked me a dumb obvious question, out of breath. Out of breath. Wait, wait, is he angry about the demonic sound I made?