Today, Tomorrow, and Forever || teacher x student

Chapter 3

Vincent's POV

As I sit at my desk and stare at the sorry sight before me, I can't help but feel bad for the poor girl. Sick, crying, failing her classes- no wonder she wants my help, the one man she despises.

Elaine Mills gets along with absolutely everyone. Everyone, except me. And I understand why. I'm hard on her, harder on her than any other kid. At first I was just mad that I had such a defiant student, but now it's because I know she can do better.

She stands there in front of my desk, holding a heating pad and wiping her face of tears. I've agreed to help her, but now is just not the time.

"Miss Mills, please get yourself together." I slide her a box of tissues, and she grabs a handful. "Yes, I will help you, but not while you're unwell. If you want my help then you need to listen to me, and right now I am asking- no, telling you to go back to the nurse."

She looks disappointed, and doesn't move an inch. Not even to pick her paper up. I hand it to her, and gesture out the door, which she closed behind her when she entered. She looks over her shoulder, then back to me with pleading eyes.

"Fine. You can stay here. We can go over one of your easier assignments if you want, but not that one," I say, pointing at the paper in her hands.

"Okay, that works f-for me!" She says, still stumbling over her words. She's been doing that the whole time she's been in here, and I can only attribute it to how bad she must feel.

She pulls out the chair across from mine and sits down, pulling out one of her other papers. She puts it on my desk and slides it across to me, and I take a look.

It's a pretty standard assignment on understanding and writing literature analyses. I ask her to fill out the preliminary questions, while I work on writing an email. In a few minutes she says she's done, and I look over it.

"Miss Mills, you're supposed to explain why you think that, in your own words, not just write a few words copied from the textbook." I pass it back, and when she takes it I look at her face. I think I may have been too hard on her, since she's beginning to look upset again.

I lecture myself internally on being nicer, and continue working on my computer. After a few minutes, she speaks.

"Mr. Steele... why were you sitting like that, next to my bed in the nurse's office?" She says, keeping her eyes trained on her paper.

"I... I was tired. That's all. I would've rather not been babysitting a sick child." Dammit, that was too harsh. The real answer is so much more complicated, but I can't just go trauma dumping on my poor student. That's what therapy is for.

She simply nods in response, and her pencil resumes moving. When she asks me to look over her paper again, I do so, and praise her for her better answer.

"Alright now with analysing literature, a few things you wanna look out for are..." I begin basically a mini lecture, while gesturing to various things on her paper. After a few minutes, I register a lost expression on her face.

"Can you see from over there? Do you get what I'm referring to?" I ask her. She shakes her head no.

"Would you like to come over here so you can see better?" She nods her head. "Words, please, Miss Mills." I say, scooting my chair over so she'll have space.

"Um, yes sir, I'm sorry." She picks up her chair and brings it over, putting it next to mine. She's placed it so that our knees are nearly touching, but I pay it no mind. I begin my lecture again, making sure she can see what I'm talking about.

I speak for a while, expanding on a couple other topics I know she's had trouble with. She asks questions here and there, but it's mostly just me talking to her while she listens. It's almost therapeutic, and I enjoy the peacefulness.

As I talk, I notice Elaine starts to nod off. I try to make my lecture more engaging, but I think I'm failing. After a bit, an idea strikes me. I hand her a blank piece of paper, and ask her to write a few sentences with examples of what I'm teaching.

She agrees, and begins writing. As she does, I watch her face. Her emotions seem to shift as she writes, her expressions fitting whatever she's thinking about. After a couple minutes, she startles me by speaking.

"Did you know I'm a painter? Almost no one knows. I've had some paintings put in galleries, thanks to my dad. He has connections. Under anonymous names, of course."

She seems to be telling me this almost absentmindedly, as if she doesn't even realize she's speaking to me. I bet if she remembered it's me she's speaking to, she'd stop immediately. We're not close at all.

"That's interesting." I reply, mostly out of politeness. I don't know what else to say. She hums in response and continues writing. When she finishes, she gives me her paper to approve, and I do.

I then continue lecturing her, even though I can tell she's still very tired. I do my best to keep it engaging, but after a while I get lost in the rhythm of teaching again, and stop paying much attention to her.
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word count: 939

way short chapter, sorry! about 70% shorter than usual :( my bad tehe i just didnt wanna write too much in vincents pov at first. how did you like it, though? did you enjoy seeing his thoughts? do you want more? lol you better cuz im gonna write it