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[to hell with them, my prof said]
It was Wednesday, our designated time "outside school." The evening lingered with an uneasy stillness as I waited in the dimly lit classroom. The professor's lecture stretched on, the air thick with the murmurs and glances of his third-year students. Their eyes were sharp, filled with unspoken judgments, hinting at a narrative they barely grasped.
“Why’s she here?” one student muttered, disdain barely masked. “Doesn’t she have better things to do?”
I ignored them, focusing on the relentless ticking of the clock, each second amplifying my impatience. The professor's voice was a distant murmur as I grappled with the tension crackling in the room.
When the bell finally rang, the students surged out in a chaotic rush, their footsteps a discordant symphony of relief. The classroom emptied, leaving me alone in the oppressive silence. I watched as my professor gathered his papers, a familiar anticipation coiling in my gut.
“Are you ready?” I asked quietly as he approached.
He grumbled, a hint of exhaustion in his voice. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”
We waited, the silence pressing in around us until the building seemed to exhale in a hollow calm. The students' whispers had faded, leaving us in a cocoon of solitude.
As we descended the stairs, our hands met, fingers intertwining with a tenderness that defied the sterile environment of the university.
Do you think they know?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
He shrugged, defiance in his eyes. “To hell with them. I only care about us.”
We moved down the stairs, each step a quiet assertion of our defiance against expectations and judgment. Our hands clasped firmly, a shield against the storm of disapproval that loomed beyond the shadows.
“Will there ever be a time,” I asked softly, “when we can be together openly, without hiding in the shadows?”
He hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “Maybe someday. For now, we must… keep this moment.”
Before I could respond, he gently pulled me into a kiss, the warmth of his lips a fleeting promise. As we reached the door of the building, he reluctantly let go of my hands. We walked in silence, each step a return to the pretense of normalcy, until we finally arrived at his house.
© reddragonfly
#studentxprofessor #forbiddenlove
“Why’s she here?” one student muttered, disdain barely masked. “Doesn’t she have better things to do?”
I ignored them, focusing on the relentless ticking of the clock, each second amplifying my impatience. The professor's voice was a distant murmur as I grappled with the tension crackling in the room.
When the bell finally rang, the students surged out in a chaotic rush, their footsteps a discordant symphony of relief. The classroom emptied, leaving me alone in the oppressive silence. I watched as my professor gathered his papers, a familiar anticipation coiling in my gut.
“Are you ready?” I asked quietly as he approached.
He grumbled, a hint of exhaustion in his voice. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”
We waited, the silence pressing in around us until the building seemed to exhale in a hollow calm. The students' whispers had faded, leaving us in a cocoon of solitude.
As we descended the stairs, our hands met, fingers intertwining with a tenderness that defied the sterile environment of the university.
Do you think they know?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
He shrugged, defiance in his eyes. “To hell with them. I only care about us.”
We moved down the stairs, each step a quiet assertion of our defiance against expectations and judgment. Our hands clasped firmly, a shield against the storm of disapproval that loomed beyond the shadows.
“Will there ever be a time,” I asked softly, “when we can be together openly, without hiding in the shadows?”
He hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “Maybe someday. For now, we must… keep this moment.”
Before I could respond, he gently pulled me into a kiss, the warmth of his lips a fleeting promise. As we reached the door of the building, he reluctantly let go of my hands. We walked in silence, each step a return to the pretense of normalcy, until we finally arrived at his house.
© reddragonfly
#studentxprofessor #forbiddenlove
