(no subject)
who// mr moretti and isabela
where// calculus class
when// after class
It’s actually probably not that weird at all, how easily Matt settled into being a TA. Even when he had been a student here, his teachers had quite often asked for his opinion on their own subject matter. Actually it wasn’t even much of a surprise, that when Professor Bridges got a stomach bug, that he trusted Matt to attend to his classes alone. Matt who had always been anxious to impress his professor, had took on the challenge and so far had been able to live up to his teacher’s expectations. He ignored, the students who asked about his presence at the school before, ignored the ones that mentioned some girl ‘Chloe’ - who he had linked to his memory loss and focused on keeping order and helping out the students that were actually interested in learning. Once his schedule had alerted him that his next class was his last for the day. He stood up and fiddled with his tie, because she was in this class and despite how much he wanted to tell himself he was in control now, he wasn’t. But his hands had loosened and the mess he had made of his tie had been without cause, because she lived up to her word and hadn’t shown up. He noted her absence into his day journal and took over the class, losing himself in formulas and numbers. By the end he was worn out, anxious to just get back to his room and bury himself in one of his Dostoevsky novels.
He slipped his papers and journals into his bag, waiting for the last footsteps to die down and for him to finally be alone. He waited and like he expected, the silence came and he sighed out loud in his appreciation. His third breath out, got caught somewhere between his trachea and Adams apple, when he heard her enter and walk up to his desk. His back was still turned to her, but he knew it was Bela without even having to turn around. “You’re late.” He turned around, brushed back hair that had fallen in front of his eyes and stared purposely, trying to place how long exactly it had been since they had been alone like this. “Isn’t this the part, where you tell me why exactly you were late and I try to ignore the fact it is lie and your ability pressuring me to believe it isn‘t?” He buried his hands into his pockets and picked at the fabric loose inside of them, waiting for her ability to hit him hard. He tilted his head to the side, noticed her hard features and as much as he was kind of hoping they would have weakened by now, he was silently happy Jude hadn’t been the one to have helped her guard weaken. “You know I’m going to have to give you a detention right? Even if you choose not to go to that as well.” Matt lent down, writing on the yellow slip and reaching out his hand, for her to take it from.
where// calculus class
when// after class
It’s actually probably not that weird at all, how easily Matt settled into being a TA. Even when he had been a student here, his teachers had quite often asked for his opinion on their own subject matter. Actually it wasn’t even much of a surprise, that when Professor Bridges got a stomach bug, that he trusted Matt to attend to his classes alone. Matt who had always been anxious to impress his professor, had took on the challenge and so far had been able to live up to his teacher’s expectations. He ignored, the students who asked about his presence at the school before, ignored the ones that mentioned some girl ‘Chloe’ - who he had linked to his memory loss and focused on keeping order and helping out the students that were actually interested in learning. Once his schedule had alerted him that his next class was his last for the day. He stood up and fiddled with his tie, because she was in this class and despite how much he wanted to tell himself he was in control now, he wasn’t. But his hands had loosened and the mess he had made of his tie had been without cause, because she lived up to her word and hadn’t shown up. He noted her absence into his day journal and took over the class, losing himself in formulas and numbers. By the end he was worn out, anxious to just get back to his room and bury himself in one of his Dostoevsky novels.
He slipped his papers and journals into his bag, waiting for the last footsteps to die down and for him to finally be alone. He waited and like he expected, the silence came and he sighed out loud in his appreciation. His third breath out, got caught somewhere between his trachea and Adams apple, when he heard her enter and walk up to his desk. His back was still turned to her, but he knew it was Bela without even having to turn around. “You’re late.” He turned around, brushed back hair that had fallen in front of his eyes and stared purposely, trying to place how long exactly it had been since they had been alone like this. “Isn’t this the part, where you tell me why exactly you were late and I try to ignore the fact it is lie and your ability pressuring me to believe it isn‘t?” He buried his hands into his pockets and picked at the fabric loose inside of them, waiting for her ability to hit him hard. He tilted his head to the side, noticed her hard features and as much as he was kind of hoping they would have weakened by now, he was silently happy Jude hadn’t been the one to have helped her guard weaken. “You know I’m going to have to give you a detention right? Even if you choose not to go to that as well.” Matt lent down, writing on the yellow slip and reaching out his hand, for her to take it from.