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Professor Callenreese was an enigma.
He was strict and curt, excruciatingly private, and a total smart ass. A genius even. And of course, he knew that. To everyone he met he came off aloof and mocking, he was cocky and it didn't help he was drop-dead gorgeous too. Golden hair and the most striking jade eyes- they’d shine like emeralds in the early morning sun, piercing stare framed behind circular gold glasses. Half the university seemed to have a crush on him (teachers included). He could've been one of the most popular people on campus. Could've . That angelic face of his was never seen without his signature scowl, thin lips pressed into a firm line, eyes disinterested and off in some other world. Whether he was simply oblivious to social interaction or outright deciding he was better than the rest of the faculty was unknown. Maybe it was a mix of both.
He was the youngest of all of them, in his late twenties; and his IQ was something insane like 200. They tried to include him and coax him out of his shell. They originally blamed it on it being new people in a new place- that was a year ago. And so far, the most they had learned was his first name -Aslan, like the lion- he had a middle name and was busy every waking moment.
But he usually wasn't so bad, he just kept to himself and he was by no means a bad teacher. He was just a weird guy they supposed. Obviously, they understood wanting some privacy, he just seemed overly paranoid about it sometimes.
Another thing about Professor Callenreese was his strict schedule. He was one of the first teachers at the school, sitting in his office with a five-shot espresso and a can of Redbull- he was particularly grouchy in the mornings, it's best if you don’t think in his general direction before noon. He usually ate lunch in his office too, and on the rare occasion he did sit in the staff room with the other teachers in the literature department, he barely spoke. And he’d leave halfway through like clockwork for a phone call.
Teachers started betting pools. It was small things at first, was he a natural blonde, music taste, trivial things. And it took a while, but he did open up eventually. Don't misinterpret that; his idea of opening up was akin to how a tortoise would poke its head out of its shell and immediately reel back in. except this tortoise would scoff, stick up its nose and leave. He had yet to catch on to the juvenile gossip around him, and if he did, he didn't care. Why would he?
“He obviously thinks he's better than us, I don't see why the dean keeps him around, he's a psychopath,” Arnold, one of the older staff members said offhandedly one day, taking a sip from his coffee.
“Oh come on, he's a sweetheart deep down I bet,” another teacher rebuttal, “poor thing just works himself too hard,”
Conversations like this were commonplace; people wanted to sympathise with and befriend the mysterious Aslan Callenreese, a slow and grieving process truly. Others just wanted to hate him. Out of what? Jealousy? Spite?
Did it even matter?
Regardless of how they felt- he was here, and he's probably gonna stick around. At least for a while...or maybe not long at all- it was hard to tell. Aslan Callenreese is like one giant ball of yarn that’s constantly tangled up. You tell yourself you'll unwind it one day, but the first knot is enough to make you give up.
Or maybe it just looked difficult.
“Hey Aslan, would yo-” Max Lobo was gonna unravel this yarn. Even if it killed him.
“Shut the fuck up,” clearly it was not going to be easy. His timing definitely didn't help. He had just bumped into him as he scuttled to his office, it was barely 6 am.
A lot of students and teachers alike have learned the hard way that Aslan Callenreese was a terror in the morning. Coffee or no. His morning lectures were pretty insufferable, but god this was a whole new level of scary. Breathing too loud would get you yelled at. But darkened eyes, barely open, seemed at least a tad happier. He seemed softer, his grimace was considerably worse, but something in his eyes glimmered.
Max was one of the first to notice that wistful look in his eye. He was a journalism teacher. Aslan had read a few of his pieces, he used too many adjectives and it made the writing clunky- drawn out, unnecessary, tiresome, hard to follow, so on so forth- but he was talented. They first met in the library, while the blond was re-reading his piece about life in Iraq. It reminded him of Griffin.
“Mr. Callenreese, may I take a seat? Or do you prefer professor?” Max had charmed, waiting for an acknowledgment. Come on, come on...what's locked up in that brain of yours.
“In Iraq, if a soldier died...what happened to them?” He asked green eyes pooled with an emotion Max couldn’t quite place. For someone like him, who prided himself on his social skills and ability to read people, it was...disconcerting, to say the least.
He looked heavy as if there was something weighing him down.
“Hauled off on the body wagon, most get sent home for burial,”
Aslan didn’t seem satisfied with that. He wanted to dig more, it was clear. Shaking his head, he shoved away from the follow-up questions, lip caught between his teeth. He had pretty horrible posture- slumped forward over the table, emerald eyes prying themselves open even with all the caffeine he pumped into his blood.
“Hmm. It’s a good piece,” he held up the paper to show it was Max’s article, and the older man’s chest swelled with pride.
“Thank you- a compliment from you is an honour,”
Aslan snorted, “why?”
“Your not exactly the most open person,”
“I don’t do well in crowds, or in the morning, reading calms me down I guess, I’m less high strung after a good book,” there was silence. It didn’t last long, “so are you here to settle one of your betting pools?”
“Oh- you know about those?”
“Your not exactly subtle,”
“I’m sorry, we never really grew out of that high school mindset,”
“Clearly,” there was that snappiness again. Max winced.
“We just wanna get to know you,” Max floundered for an explanation. Technically he wasn’t lying, they did want to get to know him. But this was evidently the wrong way to go about it.
He stared back, those eyes were so intense. It was impossible to explain the way the atmosphere buzzed and matched the ardent stare. So clear, and bright, they were hiding so much. That stare could most likely burn through walls. He went to speak, but the low beeping of Aslan’s phone stopped him.
When he checked the caller ID, Max swore that intimidating gaze melted, ice-cold jade dissolving into something warm like magma. No barriers set up at all. Just like that.
“Sorry I have to take this,” and he walked away. Max wasn’t sure if he should stay or go. He didn’t want to invade, but he was getting closer to pushing past that final hurdle and getting to know him. And that would be a sweet victory. It felt rude to leave, so he simply has no choice but to continue being nosy. No that's rude.
Before he had a chance to decide, Aslan was sitting again, stacking up papers. “I have a class to get to, but it was nice talking to you,”
“And you,” Max nodded. Could this be- friendship? Damn. Max Lobo now had serious bragging rights.
“Uh, Max…” Aslan sounded unsure of himself, almost childish to an extent. Like all that attitude and experience had been pulled out from under him in an instant. vulnerable, “my brother talked about you a lot...said you were close when you were based together, I just thought you should know Griff liked you,”
And with that, he was gone. As quick as he came. Always.
And then everything clicked. He was Aslan. Ashamedly, he should’ve put that together sooner. They shared a last name for one. But max hadn't thought about griffin CAlenreese in a long time. He hadn't thought about the way they shared tales of their families on a quiet desert night, exchanging laughs and stories. It hurt more than he cared to admit. He remembered how fondly he talked of Aslan, how proud he was of his little brother.
He knows Aslan’s a grown man, self-sufficient and probably more mature than he is- but he would make sure he was ok. For Griffin. It's the least he could do.
After that conversation- Max had hope. They had a connection, a foundation to build on. They could be colleagues, friends.
“Come on Lobo, he likes you, ask him,” but other people took advantage of that foundation. All the faculty looked at him with begging eyes filled with mischief. They had arranged to go out for drinks and wanted him to invite Aslan. Like he’d suddenly be down for such things.
It was lunch, and Aslan had taken to office as he did most days. He had mentioned that all the chatter drove him crazy. Made him anxious. But he made the effort once in a while, and it meant a lot.
“Fine, fine, I’ll ask him, but I can’t promise anything,” Max lifted from his seat, taking another drink of his water, before wandering his way to the literature block.
The door was closed- as always- the blinds were closed- as always. But there was the distinct sound of talking, laughter even, he probably shouldn’t eavesdrop but it was so damn tempting. Aslan was that big red button everyone tells you not to press; the locked door at the end of the hallway in your childhood home; the cookie jar on top of the fridge.
He heard snippets of conversation, but none of it meant anything. It was just a friendly conversation. He stepped away and raised his hand to knock when the door opened. Shit, he’d been caught spying.
“Oh- Mr. Lobo, did you need me,” Professor Callenreese was opening the door, a young, dark-haired man beside him. The blonde's cheeks were rosy, almost as if he had been smiling. How peculiar.
“Um...yes, sorry if I’m interrupting something important,”
“No, it’s ok, I was just leaving,” the other smiled bright- he looked like he could be a freshman. He said something in a language Max couldn’t understand- it sounded Asian, Japanese, or Korean perhaps. Aslan smiled and returned a phrase in the same language, watching the boy walk off. What the hell? Ok, now that big red button has a note saying ‘don't push’. You’ve got to know what happens when you push it.
“Sorry about that, what did you need?” There was that snarl again. Eyes indifferent, sharp, slender face returning to its natural state.
“Oh- right,” Max stumbled, “me and some other teachers were wondering if you’d like to go out for drinks tonight,”
“And they sent you because we're close,” Max nodded, caught red-handed, damn.
“Should I just tell them no?” Such invitations were typically refused. They had tried and tried and tried and tried and tried. But he was always busy- work or otherwise.
“No...I- I’ll see what I can do,” now that caught Max off guard.
“Really?” Sounding a bit too eager, Max jumped at the solid maybe .
“Is that so surprising?”
“Yes, but we’d be glad you have you, I’ll send you the details later ok?”
“Ok,”
That should’ve been the end of it, but Max couldn’t stop his big mouth, “so who was that kid?” He gestured vaguely in the direction the dark-haired boy had walked off.
“No one for you to worry about, I'll see you later- maybe,” once again, he was met by the door of his co-worker's office, warbled glass and name-plate taking up his view. Professor A. Callenreese.
Max huffed, but he expected that. He was probably a student, or maybe family. Or maybe Max should listen to Aslan and accept that it was none of his business.
Even so-he landed his career by being nosy- he can't just turn it off.
Shockingly, Aslan did join them that night. He was closed off as usual. That was until the alcohol got into his system, then he was a bit more talkative.
Victoria- one of the art history teachers- had the gall to ask about his middle name; sure it wasn’t a huge thing but it was intriguing to everyone. Life got pretty boring after 30- you get excited over kitchenware and bin liners being a different colour. So, yes, it was a huge thing to them.
“I think it’s James, James is pretty common,” other people voiced their guesses. There was Jack, Jacob, Jude, and Jessiah, “come on, big moment- the answer is…?”
Aslan smirked, maybe even chuckled slightly, “Jade, my middle name is Jade,” his mouth returned to a straight line, slightly skewed like he was holding back a smile.
“I like Jade for a boy's name, was gonna name my Andrew Jade,” now Martha was gonna talk about her kid all night, great. Noticing this pattern, Aslan rolled his eyes and shot back his whiskey.
“Up for a game of pool?”
Max turned his head, matching Aslan’s cocky smirk. “I’ll beat your ass kid, sure you can keep up?”
“I think I’ll be just fine, old man ,” they left the table, Vitoria following to watch and avoid Martha’s drawl over her precious kid.
Victoria has started a few months after Aslan. And essentially the complete opposite of him. She was bubbly and could talk for hours and hours. It should be annoying, but she was just so positive- you couldn’t get mad.
Even Aslan had taken a liking to her.
“Aslan Jade Calleneeese, the mysterious, the beautiful, the grand-how good are you at pool?” she asked with dead seriousness.
Aslan matched her serious tone, “the best,”
Max laughed as he set up the game, definitely prepared to whoop some sense into this child.
“You think you can take him, Max?”
“Most definitely,” he grinned, “in fact I’d bet on it,”
They did bet on it. And by the end of the first game, Aslan was $20 richer. By the time they had decided to quit he had pocketed 100. Jessica was not going to be happy. Double or nothing was a terrible idea.
“Cheating bastard,” Max sneered.
“Come on, old man, cheer up, I’ll buy you a drink,” and there it was. The golden snitch- Aslan Jade Callenreese laughing. In public. Around people. May the heavens stay in the sky.
They learned a few things about Aslan that night, he was exceptional at pool, could drink his alcohol pretty well despite claiming he didn’t drink often, and he was (deep down in his hermit heart) a saint. Victoria had decided that. She had asked the blond to hold her drink while she went to the restroom, and he did without question, immediately covering the top with his hand. She would have hugged him if it didn’t earn her a slap.
And when he made his goodbyes first out of everyone, no one was surprised. They asked him to stay, hoping maybe he’d loosen up even more- they had more questions to ask. He refused politely and left the grimy little bar they loved. Max was outside having one of his monthly ’guilt cigarettes’. Quitting completely was on his bucket list, he just hoped his lungs would hold out till then.
Aslan passed him with a brisk parting, nose scrunched up from the smoke. His fingers loosely tangled with a silver chain around his neck.
“See ya later, buddy!” Max was drunk, it was clear in his voice, in the stench of liquor that came off his breath with that smoking cancer stick. And with this inebriation, he decided that personal space was for nerds , and patted Aslan’s shoulder as a goodbye.
The gesture meant nothing, it should’ve meant nothing. But the one part of his brain still sober noticed how the young professor tensed, pulled away quickly- hand now clutching the pendant of the necklace lying against his chest. His eyes wide, breathing unsteady.
“I’ll see you Monday,” he rushed and ran a hand through his hair, hustling to a black car that had just pulled up.
Squinting, Max returned to his cigarette. He felt a tad of guilt, but bourbon sure did a lot to make you forget that. He’d try and remember to apologise, or maybe it was best to forget it happened at all.
Monday came quick, and they were back in routine, Max had briefly mentioned the shoulder incident- having it brushed off immediately. Aslan was slowly building up defences again, or at least he was trying. Faculty had taken the bar night as a free ticket to interrogate him at any given moment. And his mood seemed extra sour that week, so needless to say, it didn’t bode well.
“Are you dating anyone? Where are you from? What do your parents do?” So many questions. All of which received a grimace and some choice words. Aslan retreated to his office for the rest of the week.
Max could only splice in 5-minute conversations occasionally, if it wasn't work-related maybe 30 seconds at most. Ultimately, a lot of his time was wasted standing outside Aslan's door. That boy and secrets; what could be so important to hide. Unless it was illegal, then it made sense. But Aslan didn't seem like the criminal type. At least, Max didn't think so. Criminals weren’t so smart or...pretty. A stereotype sure, but there had to be at least some truth in it.
Aslan still hadn't answered, maybe he was still walking back from a lecture. The layout of campus could be a pain in the ass sometimes.
He decided to wait another few seconds, only for the small Asian boy (man?) to stroll up to Aslan’s office as well.
“he’s not in, sorry,” Max stood from his place leaning against the wall- to be polite.
“Oh ok, he shouldn't be long though,”
“Probably not, campus is just a pain for some of us,”
“What do you teach?”
“Me? Oh, I'm a jo-’’ Max was cut off.
“Old Man!” Aslan had shouted, beckoning Max.
“Would you please take these ladies to retrieve their belongings, I have business to attend to. Aslan wasn't looking at him. He was looking at the black-haired kid, he was fiddling with the ring on his finger. He looked pretty young to be engaged, but it's not his place to judge. He and Jess had gotten engaged young too (the first time at least).
He agreed, he'd have to catch Aslan another time.
He walked the pair to lecture hall B and unlocked it, letting them grab what they needed before he could get back to his original plan of action. Which was to…..do something. Definitely something.
Max, forgetting what he originally needed to talk to Aslan for, went to his office to get his supplies for his next lecture. If he walked halfway across campus just to have forgotten his USB again he’d probably kill himself.
And then he remembered Martha's birthday card. He just needs Aslan to sign it real quick and drop it off before the end of the day. Back to Aslan’s office!
Who said he didn't exercise enough?
Jessica. Jessica did. right.
It wasn’t far at least. He was at the end of the hall, seeing the door open, light laughs drifting down to him. He couldn’t hear them, but he saw the ebony-haired boy smiling, and so was Aslan. They talked for another few seconds before Aslan leaned down and gave the boy a kiss, repeating the action a few times in an almost joking manner.
And then he was back in his office and the boy was leaving. What the fuck? So much- too much to unpack there.
Was he dating a student? No, he wouldn’t. But he couldn’t be more than 18, and that’s not great. And from the small conversation he had with the boy, he noticed he was wearing a ring. It wasn't hard to.
“Ok Max, I’m sure this is all a big misunderstanding, just ask him- calm and rational,” he took a deep breath, calm and rational.
He was neither calm nor national; he burst through Aslan’s door, “are you dating a student?” He exclaimed, eyes wide, Martha’s card still in his hand but ultimately irrelevant to him.
“What? No! Why would you think that? What the fuck?” Aslan replies with the urgency you’d expect from someone who’d just been accused of a crime.
“That black-haired kid-” Max didn’t have time to finish explaining, Aslan was laughing. Genuinely, laughing himself just about to tears.
“You think Eiji is- oh goodness,” he kept chuckling.
“I’m...confused,” Max admitted, feeling stupid. Like he was left out of some joke everyone knew but him.
“Close the door and sit down, let’s get this straight, yes?”
Nodding, Max followed his instructions while Aslan came down from his laughing fit.
“That kid,” another chuckle, “is two years older than me, he’s not my student,”
“But he looks so young!”
“Yeah, even for a Japanese,”
“I-“ Max was humiliated now, “I am so sorry ,”
“No, it’s ok- you’re not the first and you won’t be the last,”
“Ok….but he’s engaged…” Max’s eyebrows crinkled together.
“Yeah he is,” he deadpanned. Aslan fished out the necklace around his neck, holding up a ring dangling from the chain, “to me,”
“You’re- you're engaged?” Max had just been given so much information all at once and it was overwhelming, definitely.
“Don’t tell anyone, I don’t need or want them in my or my fiancé’s business,” Max thought it was a bit cute how even being as intimidating as he was, Aslan was without a doubt deeply in love with his fiancé.
“I won’t... but you gotta tell me his name,” he smiled, expecting to get his head chewed off.
Instead, with a sigh, he heard a reluctant, “Eiji Okumura, he’s a photographer,”
Max was ready to ask more and more, Aslan seemed to open up a tiny bit when it was about the love of his life. Sweet. The door clicked open, “sorry Ashu I left my- oh sorry, am I interrupting,” it was the boy- uh...Eiji.
“No it’s fine,” Aslan smiled at his fiancé.
And without thinking, Max blurred out an unceremonious “I’m sorry!”
Eiji squinted at Aslan for some explanation, and the blonde simply stated, “it happened again,” with a lopsided smirk.
There was a second to confusion, and then it clicked, Eiji started to chuckle, “I’m 29,” he grabbed his bag, extending an arm to mess up Aslan’s hair.
“I’ll see you later, Ash, aishiteru ,” Aslan’s hands swatted away his fiancé's mock anger on his face.
“I know, koibito , see ya,”
Eiji said his polite goodbye to Max and headed out. Max shot a knowing look at Aslan, “I might not know Japanese, but I recognise I love you when I hear it,”
Aslan’s ears turned pink, “don’t you have somewhere to be, Old Man,”
“No, no I don’t, also...Ash?”
“It’s a...nickname. Call me it and I’ll tell your wife you're having an affair,”
“But I’m not,”
“She doesn’t know that,”