Inside My Teacher's Eyes ~ Ten-Shot

Part 3

"Just leave me alone!" you shrieked in a whisper. His strong bicep was pressed against your face as he silently walked you down the corridor. What was he doing? Where was he taking you? You liked being in his arms, you loved being his arms. But you were embarrassed, way too embarrassed to face him. Your eyes became blurry with salty tears as he guided you out the front door of the school. You tried to protest, but it was no use. His silence told you, that he was there for you, that he was going to take care of you. Beep beep. You shot your head up, to see a Coupe in front of you. He opened the passenger seat door for you and helped you inside. The car smelled of early morning coffee, and his signature testosterone smell that you made you weak at the knees. "Where are we going?" you whispered unable to stop the tears.

"I'm taking you back to my flat. You are in no shape whatsoever to go home like this," he said shutting the door gently and jogging to the other side. He got in and roared the engine. You drove in silence. At one point you thought you heard him mumble, "It's gonna be okay." The evergreen trees, the slow pedestrians, and the slightest bit of civilization zoomed by outside your window. Minutes later, the car came to stop in a large parking structure.

"Mr. Styles..." you began feeling unsure. Maybe you were wrong about him. What if he was some bad guy who takes his students to his flat and...

"Shh Y/N. I promise. I'm not gonna hurt you," he said quietly as he reached for your hand. You flinched, memories overwhelming your mind from just a few moments ago. He sighed and walked you up to his flat, without touching you. He reached under his welcome mat and retrieved a tiny, golden key. He unlocked the door and let you in. The flat was welcoming and homey. "You can take a seat on the couch," he suggested placing his keys with a jingle on the kitchen counter. You spun around to meet his eyes. You suddenly wondered if he looked at you, the way you looked at him. With admiration, attraction, beauty. You imagined, what you looked like right now.

"Er may I use your bathroom?" you asked quietly.

He nodded, "It's right over there." You walked into the small bathroom, which was decorated with seashells. You slammed the door a little too loudly behind you. You rushed to the sink, before stopping and looking into the accurate mirror. Your hair was a mess, sticking out in every way possible, your eyes were deeply tear-stained with black mascara and eyeliner dripping down your cheeks, you were afraid to look but you did anyways. You slipped down the collar of your tank top, revealing your bra. You slowly dragged your bra down slightly to see what damage had been caused. You gasped when you saw two huge eggplant colored marks on either side of your left boob. Your shaky hand lifted up to touch it, wincing at the touch.

"Y/N? You alright in there?" you heard a curious voice from outside. His accent was thick, and evident. Just how you remember it from the first day of school.

"Yeah I'm fine! Just give me a minute!" you pounded back quickly turning the sink on, to cover up your sniffles. You threw splashes of cold water onto your face, washing the dripping, black makeup from your face. You brushed your hair out with your fingers, as much as possible and went back outside.

"Feeling better?" he asked suddenly. He was sitting on his couch, leaning forward, with his hands in his lap. You ignored him,

"Why are you doing this?"

"What do you mean?" he asked gesturing for you to sit down.

"Why are you letting me come here? Why didn't you just leave? Why did you hit Hunt-" you broke down at the sound of his name. Maybe because of the way he treats you, the way he demeans you, hurts you. Or maybe it was because you missed the old him. You missed the way he treated you, the way he made you feel about yourself, how he would never do anything to hurt you. Times change, and people do too.