Gloria
"What a tragedy. Should we call her parents?" My teacher's voice came like a soft wave to my ears before sunlight hit my eyes. My eyes squinted before I opened them, and my vision cleared.
My teacher's furrowed eyebrows and worried eyes came into view first. She was hovering above me and helped me sit up straight. A deep breath left my mouth.
"Aww, are you quite alright, darling?" She asked and touched my forehead to check for a fever. I looked at her and nodded. Her curly brown hair was dismantled and her eyes had heavy bags under them, which she hid carefully behind her catseye glasses.
Her messy appearance made it clear that she had been sitting here for a long time. I looked around the nursing room. I blinked against the too-white light, head heavy like I'd fallen out of time. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar. Smooth. Cracked in the corner. My throat felt dry and distant, like I hadn't used it in years.
"Did I faint?" I rasped out.
She hurriedly nodded while biting her lips. "Is it because you are afraid of public speaking?" She almost whispered.
The memories slightly blurred in my head. Students, whispers, the teacher, and those eyes. The eyes that looked like the darkest part of the ocean. I shivered as I removed the memory from my head.
I looked at her as she eagerly waited for a response. It was obvious she would think that I had a fear of public speaking after I fainted just before she announced me to the class. I cleared my throat.
"There is nothing like that." I massaged my throat. "I was having a headache, perhaps. Please do not inform my family."
The last thing I wanted was for them to show up here all concerned. On the very first day of my new school. My father would not take this lightly.
A knock sounded on the door as a redhead, the same age as my teacher, walked in holding a bunch of files in her hand. Her straight hair blew in the wind as she walked towards my bed. "Ms. Sara? I heard one of your new kids got sick."
Her eyes lingered a little too long on me as I took in her appearance. Straight hair, blue eyes, and clothes tighter than usual for the dress code.
It snapped to me that I still didn't know my homeroom teacher's name. I looked at Ms. Sara as she spoke to the other teacher.
"Yeah, Ms. Briar. But thankfully, she is alright." She replied.
Ms. Briar gave me a strange look. "Do take care of your meals, kid."
I did not care to respond to her. Instead, shifted my attention to the bandage on my hand.
"You fell at the corner of the table. That's why you have a bruise, but it'll heal soon. " Ms. Sara smiled at me.
"Did you know that Mr. Ilian was shifted to History in your class?" Ms. Briar said while fixing her bangs. "I'm thinking of doing the same for Literature."
Maybe at the corner of my eyes, I saw Ms. Sara slightly roll her eyes before she forced a smile while being composed. "Sure, why not?"
A while after Ms. Briar left my homeroom teacher turned to me and was full exasperated and cursed the heck out of Ms. Briar, who was apparently Eleanor Briar-- which I figured in the middle of the swear storm.
Ms. Sara pulled out every curse word in the book and spouted them in front of her student. My eyes widened slightly.
She looked at me as she figured I was wondering what crimes this woman had committed against humanity. Ms. Sara smiled as if nothing had happened. "The woman is a bitch. Apologies for using bad words, but the only reason she is in this school is because of Ilian Velevsky."
I licked my dry lips. "Who would that be?"
She smirked. Perhaps out of spite? "Mr. Valevsky teaches History. He doesn't talk to anyone, not even the other staff... and well, some say even the principal steps lightly around him."
I nodded, trying to understand. Not her words, but rather why she was saying these to me.
"Though he could probably teach half the departments if he wanted," She said as her tone was caught between admiration and unease. "He's brilliant, precise, and completely unreadable." She paused. "And strikingly gorgeous. Ms. Briar has an unhealthy obsession with him, but she does not try to hide that."
I faked a smile. "I see.." What do I do with this information?
A few minutes later, the nurse came in and checked my pulses. Announcing me safe to leave, she told Ms. Sara to take care of me the whole day.
With her help, I was able to walk. I was still extremely lightheaded, but rather tried to focus on the class. What was even happening? This was no good sign to happen on the first day of school.
When I reached the classroom, the teacher was already there. His broad shoulders, wearing a black shir,t covered the entire board. I recognised the hair. The fabric of his shirt stretched across his shoulders, tailored perfectly, every line of muscle underneath hinted at but never revealed. He stood like someone who had been trained to hold still.
Ms. Sara looked at me. "Be careful, okay? If you need anything else, let me know."
I gave her a warm smile and nodded. When I looked at the teacher, he was still writing when I walked in. It hit me just then.
The smell of musk.
The same scent. The same stillness in the air, like the room was holding its breath around him.
"M-May I come in?" were the first words I managed to get out of my tightening throat.
Then he turned.
Slowly. Quietly. And those eyes
I froze.
Steel-grey. Unforgiving. Cold in the way that fire can be cold when it's burned too long.
The eyes from the courtyard. The eyes that held mine before everything went black.
"Welcome to European History." Smooth, but not soft, his voice was like velvet pulled tight over steel. It had a low, grainy edge to it. It was like smoke curling through a quiet room. "Ilian Valevsky," He pointed to himself subtly.
I couldn't tell if I was breathing.
Because he wasn't just the man from the courtyard.
He was my teacher.