Chapter Text
‘What do you think the stars wish for then?’
‘‘A softer beginning.’’
- A KINDER END | P.D (VIA LOSTCAP)
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Richard Campbell Gansey III had a girlfriend, something that was unbeknownst to his students for many months. It wasn’t a secret necessarily, as they had previously thought. The fact just hadn’t come up, as all the classes were spent discussing wars and treaties and discussions and everything in between. However, after she was brought up, it seemed as if she was everywhere, discussed just as much as the class’ syllabus. After that, the students of Tuma University had forgotten how many times Professor Gansey (please, just Gansey) had mentioned his girlfriend. In the beginning it had been fascinating, something each student looked out for, hanging onto every little crumb of detail that was given to them. After all, it was very unlikely for Gansey to talk about anything other than History and Glendower.
It was for that exact reason that Blue Sargent had become a myth on campus, a revered deity that no one had seen but believed in nonetheless.
Her first mention, in an unnaturally cheerful Saturday morning, brought about a rainstorm of reactions from those assembled, all of whom were at the very least vaguely in love with the aforementioned Richard Campbell Gansey III. When the professor rushed into class 10 minutes late, rumpled and apologizing profusely, he happened to mention some friends as the reason.
To clarify, his actual words were: “I’m terribly sorry, I met up with old friends last night and lost track of time. Shall we continue where we left off last class? The importance of the war of the roses cannot be overstated because…”
Truth be told, not one student in that pivotal (and quite frankly, legendary) class could state why the war of the roses was important. They were too busy staring at the small bruises all over his neck, which were most definitely hickeys. An argument could be made against this but to do so would be very foolish. It also explained several other phenomenon, among them why Gansey had rejected multiple romantic offers from attractive, intelligent, and well liked professors. Unfortunately, it created a lot more problems than it solved, because, as mentioned before, Gansey only alluded her absentmindedly and they were left with breadcrumbs.
In an effort to crack the code, a secret committee was created, dedicated to the sole purpose of piecing together clues to identify Gansey’s secret girlfriend. To be seated on the committee was a great honor, only bestowed to the best among the History majors, passed on from one graduating class to another. Committee hopefuls could bolster their chances of being considered by submitting whatever information Gansey told them about her to them, which would be added to the already intricate web that was in place. Going on 5 years, they had amassed a great deal of intriguing but highly irrelevant details, among them:
● She looked like a pygmy tyrant
● She abhorred boat shoes
● She carried a pink pocket knife
● She drove like an old lady
That was all well and good but it didn’t bring them any closer to finding her identity, a quest that the History department had taken on with the same fervor and intensity that Gansey had searched for Glendower with. For the past three years, they had probed and prodded the charismatic if slightly eccentric professor, hoping that he’d outright say a name, something that could be accomplished with a quick google search. But Gansey’s obliviousness, something that students often sighed over, was an effective cockblock, putting an end to that mode of investigation before it even began. For many of them, Gansey’s mythical girlfriend and his ever blurry relationship status would be a thing of the past once they graduated, something to fantasize about when reality wasn’t going as planned. Or so these unfortunate souls thought.
You see, not many years after Gansey began teaching, the students began to see evidence of this secret girlfriend of his, the friends he mentioned casually in every other conversation, a secret life no one thought him capable of, yet something that suited who he was completely. It was nothing big, really. A glimpse of 2 figures, one with a neon orange polo shirt, walking into a pizza parlor, maybe a hug or two. But it was more than enough for the rumor mill to churn out theories in full force, feeding off of the many possibilities of who she was, how they met, and most importantly, what she thought about his sense of fashion.
As broke, overly caffeinated, sleep deprived college students, there were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of ways to better use their time. Really, anything that wasn’t stalking their professor probably counted as a more efficient usage of their time. But, as previously stated, they were broke, overly caffeinated, sleep deprived college students, so they had no choice in any of this. When an extremely attractive, young professor shows up in the history department and volunteers his personal information without any force, threats, or kidnapping (please don’t ask, Beckie is very sensitive) involved, you take what you’re given and roll with it. And if every other department just happens to be enabling them, so be it. It’s not like they’ll get much out of it anyway.
This exact thought was running through the head of every member of the Dedicated and Intelligent Committee (yes, the acronym is DIC and yes, they were drunk at 2am when they came up with it), as they sat and went through another week’s worth of information to put up on the information board. The board---lovingly decorated with candids of Gansey in his entire polo collection--- mainly featured blurry pictures that could have either been the loch ness monster or a bush, a couple of coffee orders, and some stray napkins Ganey had used to wipe sauce off of his mysterious girlfriend’s face. An eclectic mix of information, yes. It would, however, one day be used to solve the greatest mystery known to mankind, so it was quite alright if they hit some bumps along the road.
What these poor fools didn’t know was that bumps in roads would be the least of their problems. Why you might ask? Well, because they were about to be hit by Hurricane Blue, a force of nature that left even Richard Campbell Gansey III in awe. After all, the magic of Blue Sargent is that you will encounter her full glory, lose all of your senses, and walk out of it a better person, if one with fewer brain cells--- a lesson which the much beloved Gansey most definitely learned.
It’s very difficult to keep track of this story you see, the ley line being so unpredictable and time itself slipping out of anyone’s control. But there is one person who clearly remembers the night everything changed and the events that followed. He was and wasn’t there when it all happened. Watching it all, those students unaware that they were about to be graced with Blue Sargent in all her eternal glory.
The story you’re about to be told, it isn’t from his point of view. That’s quite impossible with the ley line as it is, as stated above. However, at the conclusion of our tale, you will meet him and then, and only then, will you understand.
Understand what, you might ask?
Everything. And nothing. And all of the in between.
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"Sometimes it’s like breathing is a language my scarred lungs never learned to speak. And it’s not poetic, the ache. Of oxygen so often being lost in translation.
‘But in the silence of my ragged breaths the distance from your inhales to exhales feels how poetry should feel.
‘You are the softest loud I’ve known."
- SOMETIMES IT’S LIKE BREATHING IS A LANGUAGE ONLY YOU CAN TEACH | P.D