Based of the prompt by NarryGirl_ForEver: could you write one where Harry is a teacher and Niall is the student and Harry falls in love with Niall?
Yes, I can. I think. This is my first time writing on request so I hope you enjoy!
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It was wrong. Very wrong. But lovely, oh, so lovely.
He knew he had his class to teach after lunch break, and he thanked God that he had given the time to prepare himself for that. But it wasn't like it actually helped.
He didn't tell anyone about it, he couldn't. He knew that if he told his friends, they would look at him with shocked stares and judgmental glances, and that was something he couldn't handle. He questioned what he could handle nowadays.
He knew they wouldn't understand and certainly didn't accept it, hell, even he needed time to give it a place, but he understood. If anyone saw him, they would do too.
He knew it was noticable, that he was uncomfortable whenever he thought of him, which was most of the time. His friends had asked him what was wrong, but he couldn't tell them. He just said he had some trouble at work, which wasn't exactly a lie, so he didn't felt too bad about it.
He was a bit mad at himself for letting it happen, but it wasn't like he had control over it. He blamed himself for every adolescent butterfly he felt, for every skip of his erratic beating heart, for every drop of sweat on his hands.
He felt as if he sat in the benches of his room, hormonal and not clearly thinking, instead of the reasonable, calm adult in front of that very same room that he tried to appear.
He had tried to get over it, but it was hard trying to forget someone who gave you such strong feelings, and not to forget, you saw three times a week. Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays were his favourite days.
It was now a Monday, he knew knew he would be a bit tired, but would do his best to pay attention. Harry tried not to think about what he did that got him so tired.
He often saw how he interacted with his friends, and wished he could be one of them. But that was weird and just couldn't happen. Harry was twenty five, he couldn't be older than eighteen. It was legal, according to the law, but still frowned upon, and Harry could loose his job because of it.
Because of being in love with his student.
He swallowed the last piece of his sandwich and took a few sips of his lukewarm coffee. He was bad at controlling his nerves, always had been, but luckily, no one seemed to notice, and it was only because no one paid attention to the young teacher.
He was a teacher in economics. It wasn't his dream job, but he studied economics and got his degree. His best friend Louis showed him the application of becoming a teacher in a small town near London, where he moved for University.
He applied, he needed to have an income, and was hired on the spot. He started to find the job bearable, that was, until he came in his class.
He was a senior, and Harry didn't know how to feel about that because that would mean he would be leaving as soon as the year ended, because Harry had looked at his grades and saw the boy was smart. He didn't know if him leaving would help him or make him more miserable.
He would have thought about it, but the loud bell interrupted him from doing so, and he sighed, feeling the nerves getting worse. He grabbed his briefcase and walked to his classroom, unlocked it and let the door open for student to walk in.
He took a seat at his desk and pretended to be busy with unpacking his briefcase and fiddling with the computer, trying to procrastinate seeing him for as long as he could.
