Consequences of Flirting (Teacher x Student)

Chapter 10 - Top of my Lungs

"I wanna scream 'I love you' from the top of my lungs,
but I'm afraid that someone else will hear me."

- The (Shipped) Gold Standard
Fall out boy

"Look at them," Irene started bitterly, directing my attention towards the group of girls who were currently surrounding Sherlock, "Pouncing around him like puppies."

Glancing across the school lunch hall, I felt myself progressively growing more jealous. Even from a distance it was clear that they were flirting him to death, probably trying to 'turn him straight', because yes, they actually were that stupid. He wasn't doing himself any favours, though. He was the one giving them the attention they craved.

I picked up the knife in front of me.

Wait, let me rephrase that. The person who sat on this table before us had left their, rather conveniently unused, knife, which I was now fiddling with in a way that was more psychopathic that socially acceptable. And by that I mean twisting it around in my hands, switching my gaze from the girls to the metal. Thinking about it, this was probably not the best idea as my jealousy levels were rapidly rising.

For a moment, I did wonder how much damage I could do with the object in my hands.

"Surely," Irene continued, oblivious to the anger bubbling inside of me, "they're not stupid enough to think that he of all teachers would ruin his career just to sleep with a student."

I slammed the knife down with enough force to scare the people nearby. The action eliminated most of the anger.

"What do you think they want?" I asked demandingly.

She shrugged, ignoring my sudden outburst.

"Why are they crowding around him like he's some kind of exhibit at a zoo? Haven't they heard of personal space? You'd think they'd at least have enough common sense to give the man room to breathe-"

I rant was cut off, "Why are you so interested in Mr Holmes all of a sudden?"

Although they were across the room, I could hear the group's faint laughter, Sherlock's laugh clearly more forced than the others.

I forced myself to look away, returning my attention to Irene, who looked confused, to say the least. Her eyebrow was raised slightly, her eyes scanning me for some indication of what I was thinking about. It was somewhat comical. She wouldn't be able to figure out what was going on inside my head, not even I could do that.

She watched me questioningly as I picked up both my bag and the knife (what? It might come in handy). I excused myself, not bothering to wait for a response. Heading off in the direction of Sherlock's classroom, I thought my plan through on the way there.

I pushed the door open, checking the room was empty before closing it behind me. I pulled off my bag and rested it on Holmes's desk. I grabbed the knife and placed it on the side before returning to rummaging through my possessions. After about a minute of searching, I found the last thing I needed: an apple.

I'm not sure where the idea even came from, but as soon as it popped into my head, I knew I had to go through with it. I knew I had to show him how much he meant to me, even if I couldn't say it out loud.

And so, I began cutting slices out of the apple.

As I carved the letters into the fruit, my mind wandered down a rabbit hole. Unlike every other time this has happened, this rabbit hole was positive. This was wonderland. This wasn't a greyscale prison cell, this was a colourful haven. Sherlock was every colour. He made everything appear bright. He made everything so clear whilst simultaneously making everything so much more confusing. I wasn't supposed to feel like this towards him - considering, you know, he's my teacher and everything - but that didn't stop me from falling. I was falling dangerously fast down this rabbit hole with no safety harness.