Mr Murphy●Cillian Murphy X Reader

Chapter Three

The first day, I was already in the deep end of shitty teachers and shitty detentions. There was no way I would make it to the end of the year without getting expelled. Last year, I was given one last warning; it wasn't my fault.

I was sitting alone in the cafeteria waiting for my detention, I thought back to last year's incident. Looking back, I always saw myself as stupid and naive, but I can assure you this was the stupidest thing I have done. Margret, me, and a few other girls were all down on the beach. We had been promised by one of the girls in our group, Katie, that a group of boys would be joining us, bringing lots of booze, music, and sex. Nobody knew where Katie had found a group of boys. We just assumed she had friends in places that we did not. Long story short, Katie had pretty much just invited a bunch of random guys she had found online into a school. We never did meet the boys. Teachers caught us all on the beach, half-drunk, waiting for god knows what. Katie got expelled instantly, safeguarding issues supposedly. Several other girls got expelled, too; Margret and I only just managed to weave our way into Miss Anderson's head to not expel us. We both were on a thin line, one wrong move, and we would be expelled instantly.

Lost in thought, I finally snapped out of my trance; looking at the clock, it read five past six. FUCK! I was so lost in my thoughts I had been completely oblivious to the time, leaving my lukewarm food that was slowly hardening on the plate, I rushed out of the cafeteria, barging through a group of first years, darting down the stairs and through the empty corridors. Like a headless chicken, I pushed the door into Mr Murphy's classroom, tripping over the doorframe as I did so. Stumbling into the class, I pushed my hair out of my face. It was fucking empty, there was nobody in the classroom, and all that could be heard was the ticking of the clock. The clock read five to six. Five to six?! That clock in the canteen was wrong, like a teacher's pet I had turned up early to a detention. No wonder he wasn't here, he probably expected me to be late. The thought of the look on his face, when he saw me early to detention, when he saw me early detention made me smirk.
Slowly making my way to the back of the classroom, my fingers were crossed hoping the teacher would have forgotten about the detention. I could go back to Margret, go to our usual beach spot, and-

"Valerie?" He was here, in his usual work wear, apart from his hair being slightly more scruffy, his tie was missing and he had a few buttons undone at the top of his shirt, letting his neck breathe after a long day of work. "You're early-" his soft Irish accent sounded less smooth and slower, quieter. It wasn't just his appearance that had seemed to be less neat, his whole demeanour seemed more old and tired. Even as he walked to his desk and slouched down slightly into his chair before sitting back up again. He pushed his hair out of his face (which only made it more messy), whipping his glasses swiftly off the bridge of his nose, his icy blue eyes looked up to meet my own eyes. "Just..." he paused, sighing as he rubbed his eyes, "Sit there for fifteen minutes, then you can go,"
For five minutes, I watched him in silence. He sat at his desk like a kicked puppy, rubbing his eyes every few seconds, sniffing for a few minutes till he finally blew his nose. It was all silent till I broke it with a simple comment "You alright, sir?"
Wiping his nose onto the back of his hand, he looked up. Once again, we met eyes. It seemed the only way he could look at me. His eyes had large bags under them as if he had been crying.
"Get back to your detention-" he muttered, glazing his eyes over his desk.

Tick tock. TICK TOCK. TICK TOCK. I wanted to destroy that clock, chuck it against the wall and stomp on it till it never fucking ticked again. Ha-! Try ticking now. You bastard-

My train of thought was interrupted by a sob from Mr Murphy, he had faceplanted into his hands and was sobbing softly like a baby. If it was any other teacher, I would've started laughing, but I felt quite sorry for him. I think he forgot I was there as I heard a muffle, "Oh Jesus -" I watched him peak from behind his hands, looking at me. "Valerie...," his voice quivered, "You can go -"

I looked at the clock, I still had eight minutes left. "But sir -"

"Please go," he squeaked.

Standing up from my seat, I looked over at him, sobbing into his hands like a baby. I had never felt bad for a teacher. Ever. But for once, I felt... well, sorry for him. Something had upset him, I just couldn't think what.

***
"You mean he was crying?" Margret laughed, rolling onto her back.

After the detention, I rushed straight back to the dorm; I caught Margret sitting on the bottom bunk of our bed, attempting to light a cigarette with a cheap lighter; her face instantly lit up when she saw me. She knew I always cashed out on expensive lighters that would last the whole term. The broken smoke detectors never caught us smoking; all laugh till you're actually in a fire, though.

Margret passed the cigarette to me, bringing it up to my lips. I slowly inhaled the smooth smoke, holding it in for a second before slowly releasing it into the atmosphere of the dorm, "Yeah...I mean he was properly crying," I glanced down at the cigarette, watching it burn in my fingers until Margrets plodgy fingers grabbed it out of my own.

"What a dickhead-" she laughed, inhaling the ciggy.

Nothing was said after that, I felt bad if I agreed he was a dickhead, yet I didn't want to seem as if I liked a teacher. So we sat in silence, passing the cigarette between the two of us until nothing but a fag butt was left and the smoke still lingering in the air like a thick fog. Gwen wouldn't be in till late; the Prefect meeting and the other girl, "Zoe", were nowhere to be seen. Both of us were thinking about lighting another cigarette, craving a short nicotine rush, but a knock at the door stopped us.

Both of us paused; Margret began to flap her arms in the air, trying to get rid of the smoke; I quickly opened a window to let the smoke out and chucked the fagg butt out into the bushes. Running to the door, I opened it, expecting to see Miss Anderson or Gwen, but instead, I saw a dishevelled Mr Murphy, looking even more scruffy than before, his eyes were bloodshot red, his shirt was creased and he had it buttoned wrong, wonky glasses, messy hair and sweat dripping off his forehead.

"Valerie..." his voice was slurry. He had been drinking, "Have you been smoking?" My chest tightened. Peering into the room, smoke still filled the air, Margret must have hidden under the bed as the dorm looked empty. Bitch. "Anyway -" he brushed off the smoking, "I was wondering," leaning on the doorframe, he pushed his head up, "could you just...keep the whole crying thing...as a secret?"
"Sure-" I replied, trying to keep him away from looking in the dorm.

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Thanks, Val...means a lot-"

"No problem, sir -" Finally, I could breathe, watching him walk down the corridor. My panic was over. He either was not bothered about the smoking or was too drunk to care.

Margret crawled out from under the bed, her hair slightly messy with bits catching onto the bedframe. "What was he saying?"

"Nothing."

AN - Thank you all for staying 🙏 sorry for not writing for a while; it's been the holidays, and I've just been taking a break from everything.