Mark X Reader

O N E

  Waking up from a dizzying dream that you can't remember, you yawn and stretch to the annoying sound of your alarm.  You turn it off with a groan and realize it's Monday.  Standing up, you remember hearing something about your Science teacher.  He had been hit by a car, and was in the hospital.  Nothing fatal, it just meant that he wouldn't be in school for a while - you would have a sub.  You take a quick shower and dress in a clean pair of panties and a matching bra.  Feeling kinda cute as you put on your uniform, you decide to put on some makeup as well.  Just some nude tones, but enough to give you a temporary confidence boost. 

   You walk out of your room, backpack in hand, downstairs for breakfast.  You smell bacon and hear eggs crackling over the stove.  Your stepmom is in the kitchen with your older brother, making breakfast.  You pile your plate high with eggs and bacon, sitting down to quickly devour it.  Grabbing your car keys, you kiss your stepmom goodbye and head off to high school.

   When you arrive, the first thing you see is your best friend, Lyla, shooting out of the crowd in the hallway to hug you.  It had been a long vacation and it was nice to see her, but she was just about crushing you to death.  Fortunately, she releases you in time to catch a glimpse of a man walking past you, presumably on his way to the Science wing.  You'd never seen him before, so you assume he's the sub.  You pray that he'll actually be a teacher and not just someone who has no idea what's going on.  Since you have Science last, you decide to move on and head to your locker, disregarding the group gathered around him.  You feel his curious gaze on your back as you walk past him.

First period:  German

   It goes as usual, with common murmurs about the sub.  Boring and more boring, you ignore them.

Second period:  English

   Same thing here, with murmurs and whispers, but less common now.  Your reading project is due today, and you hand it in, glad to not have to worry about it anymore.

Third period:  Art

   You love art.  It is such a relaxing waste of time that you don't even mind.  You are working on landscapes right now, and yours is coming together nicely, though it will have to be handed in soon - the end of the quarter is coming fast.

Fourth period:  Study hall

   Nothing to tell here, just finishing up homework, reading, and doodling.

Fifth period:  LUNCH

   Finally, you can sit and talk with your friends.  Still nothing much to talk about, but it's always fun to joke around and stuff.  You have a half a sub from Wal▪Mart, a drink, a Hostess treat, and a bag of chips.  Not much, but it doesn't need to be.

Sixth period:  Study hall

   Still nothing to say.

Seventh period:  Social Studies

   Really cool teacher, tells a lot of dad jokes, easy to understand and relate to.

Eighth period:  Math

   Boring.  Accelerated class, but not much to talk about.  School day is almost over.

Ninth period:  Science

   So, here we are, finally.  The minute you walk in, you can tell something is different.  The kids are all flustered, and the room is filled with hushed whisper - conversations.  You brace yourself and look over - oh, man he's hot.  Smokin' hot.  Flustered yourself but not blushing, you quickly make your way to your seat and sit down and read.  You can feel his gaze upon you as you hide behind the book.  It's a good book, and the bell rings all to soon.  You stick a bookmark in it and plop it on the floor with all your other things.  A voice like honey fills the room.  "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.  Please have a seat and quiet down."  His voice sends a chill down your spine.  "I am your substitute teacher, Mister Fischbach.  Today we will be working on . . . the anatomy of the human body."  A collective groan is heard throughout the room.  "I know, I know.  Not exactly something you want to talk about.  Me neither," he said, winking in your direction.  Your heart skips a beat, and you find yourself hiding your face in the crook of your arm.  You hear him chuckle softly as he continues.

  You aren't listening, however, instead daydreaming unintentionally.  You study his short black hair, shaved on the sides and longer in the middle.  There are some dully highlighted streaks through it, making him look stunning.  His rich brown eyes and stubbly, sharp jaw make the butterflies in your stomach fly around like crazy.  He wears rectangular glasses, not unlike the ones you yourself are wearing.  They match his face shape perfectly, complimenting his already perfect body.

  You don't realize how hard you're blushing until you hear him chuckle once more in your direction.  You snap out of your daydream, face on fire, when he asks you what you find so . . . appealing about the male reproduction system that's up on the board and that he was talking about as you were daydreaming. 

  Blushing madly, you respond with a weak, "May I go to the bathroom?" Everyone knows what's going on - they can all tell that you like him.  He sighs, smiling handsomely at you, and says, "Yes, (Y/N), just write out a pass."  You quickly write one out and bring it up to him, looking down at your feet and blushing madly.  He hands it back to you, his fingers brushing against yours as you take it back and hurry out of the classroom.  Down the hall, take a right, and on the right side you find it.  Hurrying in and locking the door, you slide down the wall and calm yourself down.

  You breathe deeply, doing your best to collect the thoughts running rampant through your mind and shove them into the dark abyss of forgetness, but no such luck.  Instead you wet your face, wash your hands, and make your way back to class, determined to face your teacher.

  You get in and silently slip into your seat, tracing your fingers along the scars on your wrists.  You don't regret making them, you just regret the thoughts that always accompanied them.

  You quickly take your mind off that, instead filling in the sheet that was passed to you.  Seeing as the temperature inside the building was about as hot as outside (about 80 degrees) you absentmindedly take off your sweatshirt.  Once you are done with the sheet, you spend the remaining 5 minutes to read your book.  As you sit in front of the teacher, you pack up your stuff and realize he's looking at you.

  No, not you, your wrists.  You quickly hide them by putting your sweatshirt back on.  You feel his gaze on your face as the bell rings.  You try to hurry out of the classroom, but he stops you and says, "You are staying right here."  Anxious and ashamed, you slowly sit back in your seat and put your head in your arms.  When everyone is finally gone, Mr. Fischbach comes over to your seat and sits on your desk.  "Could you roll up your sleeves, please, (Y/N)?"

  Reluctantly, you roll up your sweatshirt and show him your scars.  He takes them and says with pain in his eyes, "Why?  Why would you do such a thing to yourself?"  You couldn't bring yourself to answer, instead only letting the tears roll down your face as you remember why you did it.  He wipes the tears from your face and says,  "No one should ever feel this way.  No one.  If you ever feel like this again, text me, call me, FaceTime me, just tell me and we can meet up and talk about it, alright?"

  You nod and do your best to smile and say, "Thank you."  You stand up and hug him.  Surprised, he stands there but quickly melts into the hug, doing his best to comfort you.  It's the best hug you've had since your biological parents left you on your own to travel the world.  He takes out a small piece of paper and writes his number on it, handing it to you and saying,
  "Anytime."