WARNING: TEACHER MAKING INAPPROPRIATE ADVANCES ON STUDENTS
CONTINUATION ON THE LAST CHAPTER
You had planned to just brush the loser off. He honestly was just another reason for you to feel hatred towards the day, but you felt like it was worth a shot, a shot to actually not hate him and hopefully start up another streak. You despised everything else anyway, you feel like the worlds giving up on you and rotting, so why not bring life to something less awful and potentially let it blossom?
Cautiously swiping left and entering your passcode, you noticed the time mark next to the incorrectly spelt name. Why is it spelt like Mylo anyways? I mean there was never anything wrong with it but it was a tad bit strange. Shaking your head you huddled your thoughts together and clicked on the snap, and as expected it was just some double chinned wanker with his flash on. The absolute pinnacle of humour right here.
Your attention was grappled by upbeat, incoming messages, all of which were being sent by Benjamin. A sense of distortion crowded your mind as a lacking decision such as this wouldn't really be something to feel torn up about. You didn't want to abandon this already horrifically introduced fuckboy but you had to tend to Benjamin, otherwise, you'd be letting your team down. Supporting Benji was one of your few talents, and you certainly weren't going to let that impression slip out of your grasp.
Rather hurriedly you switched on over to your messages, and there lay an array of obviously rushed and panicky texts. It reeked of worry, a sense of damaged hope. A petrified soul in need of urgent reassurance and support. A friend who needed to cry on a shoulder, a pat on a back and a trip to your kitchen to clasp a warm cup in the safety of a grasp. It was unknown as to why you felt so emotionally attached to an aloof plank such as Benjamin, however, with instincts revving up every moment you had to get to the bottom of this. With a shaking touch such as yours, you were certain Benji would've sensed it by now.
It must've been that vile, repulsive teacher that Benjamin had been unluckily experienced the misfortune of being 'taught' by. Your moral compass couldn't compensate for the amount of thrashing emotion you felt towards that monster, the comments carefully knitted within his whispers, the ones that made Benjamin plead for sanctity and advice. The ones that made every nerve throb. You would feel your mind decay and surges through your figure, negative ones that made you spit invisible, unheard of insults to the apparent 'teacher.'
