Chapter Text
There are 2 types of naps: deliberate naps – where you plan to get some shuteye, and wake up feeling refreshed; and accidental naps – where you didn’t plan on passing out, and wake up feeling groggy and disoriented.
Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you, Mr. Keating thought bitterly, as he woke up from his deliberate nap, feeling even more miserable than he did that morning. The pounding in his head had not eased – if anything, it had amplified, as if disapproving him from waking up.
Sitting up as a soft whimper escaped from him, his nose immediately started to run, yet it was so stuffed up he couldn’t even sniffle to try and stem the flow. His lips were chapped and his throat was hoarse, every breath drawn aggravating his aching chest.
Sluggishly, he grabbed a handful of tissues and pressed them against his face, reluctant to irritate his raw nose. However fleetingly, the softness of the tissues provided a sense of solace, yet the gentle touch of theirs only served to aggravate the itchiness of his nose. He massaged the bridge of his nose, hoping to ease the itch, but the tickle only grew worse the more he tried to suppress it.
He really didn’t want to sneeze – he was still groggy from sleep, the room was spinning, and he felt like there was an ice pick in his head.
He tried desperately to clamp down on his respiratory system, burying his head in the crook of his elbow and containing the sneeze through pure will. He ached from the force of it, and the demanding itch from his allergies felt worse for it.
John locked his muscles up, refusing to let out more than a strangled stifle, even as the desperate need grew in him. It was a harsh and painful thing, and more of the same quickly followed, his sinuses throbbing with each denied sneeze. He couldn't breathe properly, as each choked and unproductive stifle tumbled out of him.
The next sneeze nearly got away from him.
Finally giving in to his losing battle, Mr. Keating quickly grabbed a handful of tissues and cupped his hands over his nose and mouth. Sneeze after sneeze was ripped from him, each sneeze jerking him forward with force, truly unrestrained for the first time today. The itch was relentless, and his sinuses were quickly becoming stuffed.
His stomach hurt from how intensely each sneeze was ripped out of him. John pressed forward, letting the soft material absorb everything. They soothed his irritated skin, flushed and sore as it was. It was bliss, though a bliss he only experienced after a day beset by allergic misery. The tissues in his hands were soaked, and just as he thought he was going to pass out from how light-headed he felt, the force of his fit began to taper off.
One more worked-up sneeze, the agitation in his miserable sinuses dwindling in its wake.
John inhaled deeply, then a second time, pausing to hold his breath after each.
He rocked forward with one last sneeze, but this one didn't have nearly the volume nor force of the ones just before it, exhausted as it was. He tossed the soggy tissues in his hands, reaching for new ones to blow his nose with.
He hadn’t even noticed how much he was trembling until he reached up to wipe his tears.
Grabbing the cup sitting on his table, John took small sips of his water, drinking as much as could without spilling it on himself.
He didn’t know how long he stayed there until his quivering breaths evened out, until he was no longer shaking like a leaf.
The bottle of antihistamines stood out glaringly on his desk, as if it knew how miserable John was feeling, taunting him with its very presence.
Swallowing back a sigh, Mr. Keating gave his nose one last scrub before quickly gathering his books and headed towards his Year 11 class, which – oh, god. He had missed half of the first period for their double.
As he neared the classroom, he expected some quiet chatter around the room as they worked on their tasks, or one of the boys – most likely Neil or Charlie – to be reading some of the poems and texts they were looking at.
Never, had the thought of Todd Anderson’s voice defending him, ringing loud and clear through the silent classroom, even crossed his mind.
“H-he just had to, uh, gr-grab a book! From his room, really quickly.”
“And what book may that be?” The chilling voice of Mr. Nolan filled the room.
“Five Centuries of Verse, sir,” Todd’s stammering was gently cut off by Neil, politeness dripping from his voice.
What is he playing at? Mr. Keating thought urgently, surely he knew Mr. Nolan would ask me for proof. Yet he could not find it in his heart to blame the boy, not when he was only trying to help.
Mr. Nolan hummed disdainfully.
“Nevertheless, students are not permitted to be alone in a classroom without adult supervision, Mr. Anderson. I should have you written up for this.”
“What, you’re going to write the entire class up?” Charlie’s cheeky voice piped up.
Even in the corridor, Mr. Keating could feel Mr. Nolan’s anger. He quickened his pace.
“Sir, if I may,” Meeks cut in, slipping into his “I’m-the-valedictorian-and-teachers-love-me” voice, “Mr. Keating’s only been gone for 5 minutes, and school rules dictate that students should send a representative to fetch another teacher only if it has been 15.”
John quietly slid into the classroom. He was about to announce his presence when he felt a light tap on his thigh.
Pitts was staring resolutely at the commotion in the middle of the room, a look of faux indifference fixed on his face, his tight grip and white knuckles betraying his fear as he held out Five Centuries of Verse to his captain under the table.
“He said he was going to, uh, h-he said he’d be back s-soon,” Todd braved on through his stutters.
“And when, exactly, is ‘soon’?” Mr. Nolan’s stern but quiet voice rang out.
Mr. Keating quickly grabbed the book and began to make his way to his desk.
“Thank you for your patience, boys,” he said as if he had just walked in, holding the book up high, “Five Centuries of Verse. Mark my words, lads, these may very well be some of the best poems you’ll ever read in your lives.”
Trying to hide his obvious relief of being off his feet as he sank into his chair, he raised his head and feigned surprise as he faced Mr. Nolan.
“Oh, Mr. Nolan! Would you like to join us?”
“No, thank you, Mr. Keating,” Mr. Nolan replied, his voice so tight it teetered on the edge of being rude as he stalked out of the classroom, slamming the door behind him.
John flinched and screwed his eyes shut at the sudden loud noise, the agony of the ice pick coming back for revenge.
The only sound in the room, aside from their captain trying to catch his breath, was the faint rustling of the blinds being closed, as slowly and gently as possible.
“Thank you, boys,” Mr. Keating said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry I-”
“It’s alright, captain,” Ever the sensitive boy, Knox instantly reassured his captain gently.
“Just rest,” Neil spoke up, his voice soft and soothing.
With that, all pretence of being fine was sucked out of Mr. Keating. He slumped in his chair and rested his head on his table, relishing the coolness of the wood against his feverish skin, letting the soft murmurs of his class wash over him.
He hadn’t even realised he had fallen asleep until he was waking up to someone tenderly rubbing the small of his back.
“Captain?” Neil’s warm and soothing voice filled his ears as he blinked himself awake.
Gingerly, he lifted his head to see the boy smiling gently at him. As good an actor as he was, the concern in his eyes shone earnestly.
“Just wanted to wake you now, so the bell doesn’t scare you,” Neil continued softly, hand never leaving his back.
“Thank you.” Although his voice was hoarse, Mr. Keating felt significantly better as he slowly sat up.
“Of course,” Neil replied, never raising his voice above a murmur.
“Feel better, captain,” As quiet as it was, Neil’s voice seemed to mute the harsh ringing of the bells, as the boy finally withdrew his hand and went to join his friends.
John stumbled blindly back to his room, hastily taking his antihistamines. The pounding in his head had lessened to a dull ache, his nose had finally stopped running, and his mind felt sleepy and slow. With the added grogginess from his accidental nap, one thought stood out as he drifted to sleep – life has a funny way of helping you out.