Seonsaengnim (A Jimin Fanfic Series)

Part 7

That school day, all you could manage to do was leave campus for the remaining four hours you had left of school. You couldn't function, not after what happened. You would never be able to get that out of your mind, and because of it you felt vulnerable and yet so utterly thrilled at the same time. This feeling was unhealthy and inhumane, yet you somehow liked the remembrance of it. The way he held your neck, the way his hand ran through your hair and the way that his fresh tickling breath hit your cheek, everything about it sent chills down your spine. But the moment that you came upon the thought of his age, you shuddered in rejection. How could I, you thought, how could I like my own teacher? Why did it have to be him?

You walked slowly, clutching onto your right arm in sorrow, lip gloss smeared across your cheek which glistened in the faint sunlight. The clouds hung overhead like the burden you carried with you all the way home to your front door, and your ruffled hair gently swayed in the warm afternoon breeze. Your legs felt tingly and numb. All you could think about was hopping in the shower and washing off all the filth that you had gotten yourself into.

After your shower you lay down in bed staring up at the ceiling, wondering what the heck you were gonna do, or even say tomorrow at school. You wouldn't dare try and talk to him though, because then all you'd be able to do is imagine his lips on yours and the feeling of his soft hair in the palm of your hand. That isn't what students and teachers are supposed to think of each other, not even the least bit. You buried your face into the pillow, mind racing with guilt and regret. "Why, why, why," you repeated into the cushion, your voice muffled and furious.

As you continued to ramble for the next few minutes, a short vibration sounded from your night stand, and you peeked up from your pillow in its direction. "Who the heck is that?" You asked yourself, reaching for the phone and hoping it was only a notification or email.

"Tammy?" There were about two messages and counting, for it seemed she was in the midst of spamming you worriedly. "Hey Y/N?" "Are you okay?..):" "Crap you better be okay" "Who do I need to fight??!" You rolled your eyes and faced the ceiling once again, simply turning your phone off without sympathy. I'm too tired to explain this mess. Maybe tomorrow I'll think about it.

The next day at school on the way to fourth period, Tammy ran into you and looked into your eyes confusedly. "Y/N? Are you okay? You didn't answer me last night.. And I know you're always up.. What's wrong?" she pleaded, grabbing onto your arm to keep you from walking away. You continued walking regardless, but eventually she let go, staying behind like an abandoned puppy as she watched you leave. After a moment or two, you couldn't take the guilt, so you looked back and watched as the other students walked around her on their way to class.

Your fists clenched, you took a deep breath, and marched your way over to her, grabbing her wrist and exiting to the court yard which was empty. The two of you sat together by a tree, a spring green tree, and you struggled putting together the words to help her understand, but eventually you managed to get the whole story out, from start to finish. It was difficult, but the little nods of her head and lack of eye contact signified that she was thinking and listening deeply. She threw little pebbles off to the side over and over again, but not because she was bored. Not because she was impatient. She was thinking of a way to help you. When the tears welled up in your eyes, she wiped them away, and held onto you until they stopped.