"Disgusting?!"
The word echoed in Jean's head over and over again until it almost started to sound like a mocking song.
No one had ever used words like boring or even uninteresting on him, let alone disgusting.
So how dare Shawn call him that?
In what way was he disgusting?
Jean stormed out of the bathroom after Shawn, his anger rising with every step, but just as he reached the door, he nearly collided with a teacher walking in.
"Mr. Green?" the man called out, confused, likely because Jean was coming from the teachers' washroom.
"Jean," he corrected again, irritation slipping into his voice. He hated that they kept calling him that. He simply didn't like it.
He didn't bother to stop and explain, neither why nor what he was doing in the teachers' bathroom.
If anything, he couldn't remember ever explaining himself to a teacher; after all, he never got in trouble for anything.
"Really… Shawn's got some nerve," he muttered under his breath as he made his way back toward the classroom, his anger and disbelief burning in his chest.
He couldn't believe it.
He had practically thrown himself at that man, and this was what he got in return? Being called disgusting?
If he remembered correctly, Shawn had never rejected him before. Not once. So why the sudden change?
Just because he was in high school?
What difference did that even make?
He was still the same person Shawn had been all over, the same person he couldn't seem to resist no matter how many times he said not to come back. And yet every time Jean showed up, Shawn gave in like he couldn't help himself.
So where exactly was the "disgusting" part coming from?
Or was Shawn just enjoying messing with him, dragging his pride through the dirt?
First, he had made Jean chase him. That alone was already ridiculous. Jean never chased anyone. People chased him. Girls followed him around constantly, begging for his attention.
And if gay guys knew he was into men, he was sure it would be the same, maybe even straight one would want him.
Not that he was bragging, but it didn't make sense.
Why was Shawn pretending not to like him?
It wasn't like he was in love with him or wanted anything serious either, so what exactly was Shawn's problem?
By the time he reached the classroom door, he could hear Shawn's voice from inside. For a moment, he almost slammed the door open, but he stopped himself, forcing a breath out slowly.
There was no need to create a scene in front of everyone.
He wasn't going to bring their issues into class or give Shawn the satisfaction of seeing him lose control like that.
He knew where to find him anyway.
So instead, he simply opened the door and walked in calmly.
"Next time you enter without knocking or come late, Mr. Green, you'll earn yourself a punishment."
Jean's jaw tightened immediately.
Mr. Green, my ass, Jean scoffed inwardly. At this point, Shawn should be grateful he had chosen to enter calmly.
A wave of gasps spread through the classroom at Shawn's words, and Jean knew exactly why. No teacher ever spoke to him like that, not with his parents' status hanging over everything.
Sometimes it annoyed him. He didn't always want special treatment. But other times, he liked it. It meant he could do whatever he wanted.
He walked to his seat and sat down, his eyes locking onto Shawn. But Shawn didn't look at him even once, his attention fixed on everyone else in the class except him.
Jean scoffed silently.
Was he disgusted by his face? Or what exactly about him was so disgusting?
"So as I was saying," Shawn continued, his voice calm but carrying easily across the room. "I'm Mr. Geller, your new History teacher, and from now on, my class means my rules."
The room fell silent instantly.
"And here are the rules. You might want to write them down if you think you'll forget them once I'm done," he said as he moved around the class.
"No entering without knocking when I'm in class. No coming late for my class. No phones while I'm teaching unless you're ready to lose them for a week or more. No talking while I'm teaching unless I ask you to. If you have something to say, raise your hand."
He paused briefly, letting the silence settle.
"Respect each other- that means no laughing at someone's answers or opinions. Everyone participates, which means presentations are part of this class. If I assign work and it's not done, you earn yourself weeks of detention. And every test you take, the pass mark is above sixty. Fail that, and you're back in detention."
The tension in the room thickened.
"Any questions?" he asked.
There were none.
All Shawn could hear were nervous heartbeats filling the silence.
Everyone was looking at him, but the moment he turned slightly, a crumpled paper sailed across the room from one desk to another.
He stilled.
Then he turned fully.
For a second, he said nothing, just stood there, eyes tracing the path the paper had taken, from the hand that threw it to the one that caught it.
Then, slowly, he began to walk forward.
"Remind me of your name," he said, his gaze settling on the girl who had thrown it.
"Heather Blake," she replied, her voice trembling slightly.
"Miss Blake, give me your phone." Shawn said calmly.
"But I wasn't using my pho..." She didn't finish. One look from Shawn and she handed it over.
"You can collect it after all your classes. This is the lightest punishment you'll get, and only because it's your first warning."
He then turned to the girl who had received the note.
"I wasn't talking to her," she rushed out. "She just threw it." Shawn studied her briefly.
"Give me the paper."
She handed it over immediately.
Shawn unfolded it and read aloud, his tone unchanged.
"He's even hotter when he's strict. Gosh, I don't even know who I want more now… Jean or Mr. Geller."
The class burst into laughter.
But the moment Shawn raised his hand, silence fell instantly.
Jean, however, wasn't paying attention to the reaction. He was staring at Shawn. The words on that paper were exactly what he had been thinking all that time, even his anger had slipped away unnoticeably.
Shawn was even more attractive when he acted like this.
That was all Jean could focus on.
He barely registered the rest of what Shawn said. The words blurred together, the only thing he clearly caught being...
"See you next class. And remember the rules."
Then Shawn walked out.
And Jean's eyes followed him the entire way and stayed on the door even after Shawn left, lingering there until the next teacher walked in.
Only then did Jean finally look away, almost as if it hurt to look at anyone else who wasn't Shawn.
It was his calculus teacher, Mrs. Smith. As usual, she walked in and immediately began writing on the board, explaining as she went, not caring whether anyone was actually paying attention, which they weren't. No one ever did. Maybe two or three.
Jean didn't even bother taking out his calculus book. He never did. He wasn't even sure there was anything written in it.
Instead, he let his mind drift, falling into what had quietly become his daily routine. Ever since he met Shawn, he found himself replaying everything, from their first meeting to recent encounter, over and over again.
It had become a need, to the point where if a day passed without him going through it all, something felt off.
And now that he had the time, he let himself sink into it again.