chapter seven

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when it bites back

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"cecelia, wait up!" han's voice fills your ears as you make your way to class, thankfully not needing an escort because earlier that morning, the dean had let you switch to a lower level french class. unfortunately for you, professor auclair was still the teacher. "cecelia!" han calls again, jogging up next to you.

"hi." you mumble. you weren't exactly his biggest fan after the strange activities of last night. having been warned twice, you couldn't help but be a little on edge around him.

"you alright?" he furrows his brows, falling into step next to you.

"i'm fine."

"you got your french class switched." his words came out like a statement rather than a question, and it set off alarm bells.

"how'd you know?" you question, stopping in your tracks. han pauses for a moment, his brows furrowed before he lets out a light chuckle.

"you're heading to a different building." he points out, hands in his pockets as he jerks his head to the building ahead of the two of you. you blink, feeling a little embarrassed.

"right..." you trail off, starting your steps up again.

"did— what did chan say to you last night?" he grabs your wrist gently.

"nothing i haven't already heard." you reply. and it was true. chan wasn't the first to warn you about him. han sighs at that.

"look, whatever he said—"

"i have to get to class, han." you pull your wrist from his hold.

"cecelia." he calls firmly, but you walk away from him, pushing open the building doors, and heading to your new— hopefully much easier— french class. you step into the new classroom, seeing as it was pretty much empty so far, just a few students scattered around. you decided to sit in the middle, not wanting to make the mistake of sitting in the front like you did the first time.

just before the class started, a bunch of students filed in, professor auclair behind them.

"morning, everyone." you mentally sighed as he wasn't speaking french. thank god. you watch as he takes his seat, folding up the sleeves of his button up as he checks over some papers. "today, we'll be going over the vocabulary you were given yesterday." he states, looking up. you blink a few times before raising your hand. he cocks an eyebrow, nodding his chin toward you.

"i uh... wasn't here yesterday so..." you tell him. a flicker of recognition goes across his face.

"right, come up here." he beckons you with his fingers, flipping through the papers on his desk. you stand up, making your way to his desk. he silently holds up a paper, and you grab it, only, he doesn't let go on his end. "i hope your basic french isn't lacking as much as your manners." his tone was low, only for you to hear.

"excuse me?" your brows narrow at him.

"zoning out in my class, then disrupting it."

"right... my apologies professor i just—"

"i expect your full attention this time." he cuts you off.

the butterfly effect // stray kidsWhere stories live. Discover now