You're a Mind Fuck, Babe

Chapter 1: Destroya

Summer vacation has come and gone, and it's supposed to be the first day back at school. Naturally, I'm incredibly late, seeing as I've already missed all my classes for the day except my last one, psychology. I woke up only a few minutes ago and contemplated for the longest time whether it was worth it or not to even show up. Considering it's my second time doing twelfth grade because it didn't go so well last year, I decide it's probably important if I ever wanna get out of high school.

I stumble into the classroom and Mr. Way has already started talking. His voice stops dead in its tracks as he watches me walk in and drop a late slip on his desk. He shoots me a disapproving, cold glance and I take a seat, but not before sneaking in a playful smirk. I've always been attracted to Mr. Way, I mean he is the hottest teacher in this hell hole of a school. I've always flirted with him but deep down, I know it'll never go anywhere, no matter how much I wish it would. I have been in his class for the past 3 years and I still only know a limited amount of information about him, and what he teaches for that matter. However, one thing is certain, Mr. Way has a way of always bringing the conversation back to art no matter how out of context it is, every chance he gets, he goes back to it. I understand that he's proud of his skills and I myself like art but I didn't feel the need to hear about it every fucking conversation he has.

It didn’t take long for me to get bored with his teaching, so I zone him out like I always do. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him turn to write something on the board and my full attention is directed at his butt. I have to admit that he has a firm ass and it is quite appealing. I mean, as far as asses go, he has a pretty nice one. The more time I spend around him, the more my suspicion of him being gay, like me, has been confirmed. I’ve never seen his eyes linger towards one of the more attractive females of our school but I’ve seen his eyes twinkle when he speaks to me or another good looking boy. His clothes are always ironed and his movements are relatively flamboyant. It’s not super obvious but I’ve really been trying to look for signs and I can just kinda feel it. From my observations, most of the boys at my school are straight. Just my luck.

 He begins introducing himself to the class, and since I've heard it all before, I go back and forth between listening to him and blocking out his voice, not because it isn’t beautiful but because I’m still very tired and would like a couple of minutes of peace before having to do any icebreaker activities.

"... Art is an amazing form of expression," he says, his words catching my attention because not even ten minutes into the class and he's already brought the conversation towards art.

 "Another form of expression is swearing my fucking face off. What does art even have to do with psychology?" I spit at him. I instantly regret it. I was pissed off, why? I don't really know but I never could censor myself fast enough, especially when waves of exhaustion were crashing over me.

"You have detention with me after school, Mr. Iero," he says, clicking his tongue and shaking his head seductively. I gulp and nod quickly before going back to ignoring everybody. I stay quiet for the remainder of the class, thinking about how stupid having detention on the first day back at school is. I should get a free pass for actually having shown up at all today but no, I have to stay even longer than before.

Seeing as this is my last class of the day, I just stay seated at my desk, my foot bouncing up and down on the ground as I wait for the class to clear out. The noise from the hall eventually fades away, from buzzing cicadas to chirping crickets in seconds as people run from school, finally free. Mr. Way must’ve noticed the silence as he gets up and locks the door before returning to his desk at the front of the class. The hair on my arms stand on edge as the only sounds to fill the room is him piling some paper and moving that pile away from his desk. My eyes watch his every movement as his fingers clear the surface of his maple desk. His eyes meet mine for a second and I turn away, blushing like a fool.