Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had started off as a passing glance. Satanick had never quite given much thought about the school nurse since it was a rarity for him to visit the infirmary. It was not as if he was immune to illness or injuries as they were par for the course. However, being a demon did have its perks, and a fairly stable constitution was a blessing. All the same, rumors had begun floating around about the new faculty member; tales of how handsome and sophisticated the man was seemed to be common. That alone was enough to pique Satanick’s interest. A healthy high school senior, Satanick could not help but wonder what such a man was like to become the talk amongst the student body. Nevertheless, he had given it little more than a passing thought on viewing the male.

It had been a routine day like any other – the final bell had rung and students rushed out of sliding doors to flee the facility. As many gathered their belongings at their lockers, Satanick made his way towards the club room. Being the supreme “Devil Lord” of his very own extracurricular activity was quite a tiring job, yet it felt nice to be pampered and adored by his fellow peers. A small group of close friends since his childhood, Satanick enjoyed the simple pleasures of chatting amongst his “followers.” Whether they planned an outing into town or a more relaxed afternoon drinking tea, Satanick looked forward to this time.

Two hours passed in a blink of an eye, and Satanick once more found himself traversing the familiar hallways. The evening sun shone brightly through the immense windows along his right-hand side. Sunset was always a favorite of Satanick’s, the warm rays soaking into him like an old friend. The clamor that had once filled the bustling school had waned, the silence most welcome. A content smile crossed Satanick’s lips, and he found himself humming a nonsensical tune, the steps of his black dress shoes his only companion. Clutched in his left hand, his black school bag thumped against his thigh in rhythm with his momentum.

It had been mere chance that he allowed his eyes to wander over the courtyard below him. A cascade of orange and yellow bathed the immense entryway, coating the metal arches, cobblestone walkway, and surrounding nature in gold. It was peaceful – it was breathtaking. The scenery was enough to catch his amethyst eyes, yet movement out of his peripheral vision had the young demon focusing on an even more beautiful subject.

Long black hair starkly contrasted against a white medical jacket as the form moved down the stone pathway. Not quite thick yet not immensely thin, the hair strands gently moved as the average-sized male presumably made his way home. Satanick had not realized he had stopped his trek, his steps having come to a halt. He slowly moved closer to the window to closely examine the mysterious figure. Was this the nurse that had been the recent hot topic? From what he could see of only his back, he seemed to carry himself well – a trait Satanick admired in an individual. Confidence was key as was a beautiful head of hair. Satanick chuckled to himself at such a silly thought. He had not even personally met the man, and already he was thinking of the teacher as his type. Of course, Satanick was keenly aware he possessed this ability; in fact, he dare claim how “famous” he was for his renowned beauty and charm. A self-proclaimed “ideal partner,” Satanick likened himself to be quite the catch. He pondered if this handsome teacher would also find him similarly attractive.

Giggling to himself again, Satanick determined it was time to keep moving; fantasizing in the dusk would only impede him from tonight’s studies. As he made to turn, his eyes naturally found their way back to the similarly rotating man. If Satanick had been intrigued earlier, he was most certainly enchanted now. His breath momentarily ceasing, Satanick knew that the gossip of this man’s comeliness was true. Even with distance between them, the teacher’s dark eyes were piercing. Set amongst pristinely pale yet sculpted features, his eyes scanned behind his thin glasses. What he was searching for was unknown, yet Satanick’s heart skipped a beat to see those wandering eyes. The setting sun’s golden rays gleamed off the nurse’s lenses as it shone across his skin.

Whether on instinct or fear of being noticed, Satanick slowly backed away from the window. As difficult as it was to tear his gaze away from such a visage, Satanick deduced that both brain and breath were failing him. On autopilot, the senior demon’s steps brought his back to the wall opposite the window. Had the man seen him snooping? Even if he had, it made little difference; it was common to see a few stragglers in the academy – both students and professors. Nevertheless, Satanick found his heart beating rapidly. Subconsciously, he raised his right hand to his chest, placing it over the pounding organ. Oxygen finally returned to his lungs, and the young man sucked it in. A strange headiness settled around his mind as weakness took hold of his legs.

Perhaps it was the setting sun’s warmth – or perhaps it was the act of being shamefully caught spying on another; whatever the case, Satanick’s cheeks steadily grew warm as he stared ahead at the yellow-orange sky. There was no doubt that the new staff lived up to the rumors of how refined he was; that was evident enough based on what Satanick had witnessed with his own two eyes. What boggled him was that such beauty left him speechless. Was it simply his looks that had caused this reaction? There were plenty of gorgeous people in the academy, so surely this was not the main reason.  

Ah, that’s what this was….

This feeling was common at his age and one that Satanick had experienced many a time. It was easy to become attracted to one’s physical appearance, and it was evident that this man possessed such attributes. Crushes were indeed the commodity, and Satanick was privy to their seductive spell.

Lost in the hazy aura of a developing infatuation, the demon pondered the possibility that chance was not a deciding factor in this passing meeting; rather, these were the workings of destiny.

Victor…. Victor Flankenstein….

The name had not left Satanick’s mind nor had the thoughts of the infirmary teacher. A few days had passed, and the latest gossip moved on to the next trendy topic. That suited Satanick just fine; he enjoyed the latest news. Nevertheless, every opportunity that he was granted to catch even sight or sound of the man was more than welcome.

It had started off simple enough; rerouting his typical way to classes cost him a bit of time, but what were a few seconds here and there? His long legs moved quickly enough to get him where he needed to be in record time anyway. Surely he could spare a few extra seconds passing by the nurse’s station. That is exactly what he did; every moment he was allotted to pass by the office had Satanick’s heart skipping. A quick glance inside would sometimes yield no results, which was always a bit of a letdown. More than likely the man was fulfilling his duties; a diligent man – Satanick liked that. All the same, the rush he experienced when passing by the place that housed Mr. Flankenstein was enough to get Satanick through the day until his next cycle by.

For all that he enjoyed being able to walk by and see the man, Satanick had to admit that it was taking a toll on him – both mentally and physically. When he was able to view the nurse, his entire body began to quake. Filled with what only could be described as lovesickness, Satanick found himself simultaneously floating and drowning. Victor was quite the handsome man, possessing all the features that Satanick found attractive, yet his very demeanor left the young demon even more enamored. Calm, collected, yet seemingly cold – it left Satanick with the desire to further understand just how this man operated. What made Victor Flankenstein tick?

The entirety was enough to leave Satanick in a tizzy, yet his true undoing was the day he saw Victor display a new expression.

Between changing periods, Satanick routinely swayed by the infirmary – the typical affair of the past few days. Through the open doorway, Satanick caught a glimpse of the man at his desk. Positioned near the left hand corner of the room, Victor sat in the tall-backed rolling chair. Its position would allow the man to focus strictly on his work until someone came through the door. Out of his peripheral vision, he would be able to view those entering. Knowing this, Satanick slid as close as he could to the door jamb. Making himself as scarce as possible, he quickly glanced up and down the hallway to make sure that no others saw his snooping. It was a risky move, yet he had to see what had Victor’s attention so focused. Carefully peeking around the frame, Satanick eyed the nurse. The sunlight filtering through the windows along the back wall highlighted his dark head of hair, making it shine even with its dark hue. With such a glow it was hard to see the few white streaks that were present in the strands. Come to think of it, Victor was a human, wasn’t he?

That alone was another fascinating tale – a rarity for humans to venture into this school and take up a profession. The academy was prestigious and a desirable place for anyone wishing to launch their career, yet having an eclectic array of otherworldly species was a turnoff to some other races. Be that as it may, it appeared that Victor did not mind such things. Knowing that the man was not afraid to be around those of an immortal race only piqued Satanick’s interest more. Was he fearless? Did he really not care for such things despite his own mortality? Were those white hairs indicative of the aging process? In fact, how old was Victor?

Satanick’s mind swirled with questions, finding himself breathless in his own imagination. He wanted all the answers immediately, yet he also craved finding them out on his own – one by one. However, the biggest question that stumped Satanick was the one that was causing the man to smile. Satanick’s cheeks began to heat up as they bloomed in a pinkish hue as he watched the corner of Victor’s mouth turn upwards. It was a soft smile, one that highlighted sweetness in the usually stoic man. Just what was he happy about? In fairness, the reason did not matter to Satanick; being able to witness this rarity was a miracle in its own right. All the same, curiosity was always at the forefront of Satanick’s mind, and a glance at Victor’s gaze aided the demon in locating the source. In Victor’s left hand appeared to be a paper of some sort – more accurately, it seemed to be smaller. A photograph? Just what – or whom – was in the photo that made Victor’s eyes light up like that?

If he would only smile like that at me….

A silly little thought, but one that left Satanick longing even more. What a veritable dream come true in Victor Flankenstein would look at him in similar fashion. Nonetheless, to form that sort of bond would require more time together than simple peeks into a room where the other barely knew of the other’s existence.

If only he could spend more time with Victor and not have it discerned as taboo….

If the air had not left his lungs earlier, it certainly did now as the most ingenious idea flooded Satanick. So magnificent was his mind that the very idea left him floating. The very ground beneath his feet seemed to give way. How had he not thought of that before? It was so obvious! Victor was the school nurse – he was hired to take care of the student body. It would be highly inappropriate to cozy up to a professor, yet if the student was ill, than surely there would be no problem in visiting the infirmary.

Lightly twirling on his heel, Satanick pressed his back against the wall as quietly as possible. He raised his right hand to his mouth as a mixture of anxiety and giddiness threatened to bubble up. The idea was so tantalizing Satanick desired to spring his new plan into action! Shaking his head back and forth, his thick black locks swayed around his face. Telling himself this would not do, Satanick deeply inhaled through his nostrils. Lowering his hand, he steadily breathed out through parted lips to calm his racing nerves.

A wonderful plan such as this took time. Every relationship needed to start somewhere, but a rash attitude would surely get this off on the wrong foot.

Straightening himself and his composure, Satanick clenched his right fist, bracing it across his chest. In absolute resolve, the young demon determined his next course.

Tomorrow would be the launch of a budding beginning.  

Pining away inside his rampant brain and heart, the image of Victor smiling amongst the day’s lighting filled Satanick’s mind. A beautiful visage such as that was something he could stare at over and over again. His very own photograph of Victor would be exquisite to have, though that was far too reaching. Upon arriving home, perhaps he could sketch out the imprinted image? At the very least, Satanick would then be able to see Victor no matter the time of day.

A lighthearted warmth guided the gliding devil as he quickly yet quietly headed to his overdue class. However, such a trivial thing as running late did not bother Satanick in the slightest.

After all, fate held no timetable.

Chapter Text

Time was irrelevant to an immortal being, yet every moment revolving around Victor made the abstract concept stand completely still. If he was not present with the man, Satanick’s thoughts were drifting towards him. The human had not left his mind; in fact, the more he ruminated on him, the more Satanick found himself fascinated by fantasy. Thoughts of Victor were a commodity these days, filling his brain to capacity with little room for much else. It was maddeningly sweet – to be infatuated to the point persistent images flashed across his mind. Just how was he supposed to function this way?!

That is when a solution was birthed. 

A multi-talented individual, Satanick found comfort in drawing. The night he had gotten home had been the catalyst for his newfound hobby. Sketching the imprinted image in his mind left him speechless. A blend of dark and light pencil strokes on a blank white page had somehow managed to capture the beauty of Victor’s smile displayed earlier that day. Gently tracing his fingertips over the artwork, the same lightheaded warmth flooded Satanick’s being, and he found contentment in simply holding the sketchbook to his chest. Resting against the myriad of pillows on his bed, the devil envisioned the day when he would directly be in Victor’s presence.

Fortunately for Satanick, that day came sooner than expected. The drive to finally speak with the teacher was driving him insane! As nerve-wracking an experience as it might was, Satanick finally took the plunge. Arriving in Victor’s doorway had been the easy part, yet following through had the demon quaking. What was the proper etiquette? Was he to simply barge in with some lie as to why he arrived? Well, that had been the initial plan – to fake being sick in order to initiate contact. However, the falsehood gave Satanick pause, pondering if starting off with a lie was the best practice. A relationship built on such a foundation would surely never stand!

The man’s face bloomed bright red at that thought. A relationship?! Was that truly the end goal here? Of course, he desperately wanted to get to know Victor, but would a relationship actually be a possibility? Every interaction with people technically fell in that category, yet to want something more – well, that was the very definition of selfish ambition!

“Can I help you?”

The soft yet manly baritone pierced through Satanick’s bundle of nerves, almost sending him reeling. The young man’s eyes snapped to the source – none other than Victor Flankenstein himself. Amethysts met coal, the shock of finally staring eye to eye with the object of his affection almost leaving Satanick faint. Victor must have noticed something awry amidst Satanick’s expression as the man slowly pushed himself away from his desk.

“Are you alright? Your cheeks are ablaze, yet you’re as pale as a ghost.” Victor’s voice was honey to the ears; soft and concerned yet commanding.

Satanick internally screamed as the embarrassment left him flushed. This was not how he wanted to appear in front of the man! Sure he had wanted to sell the act of being ill, but not like this! He had wanted to display some grace and finesse; he now feared that all Victor would see him as was just another patient. Satanick attempted to let his mind wander a bit before the encroaching lightheadedness took away his consciousness.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

Satanick practically jumped at Victor’s voice again; what a lovely melody it held! His eyes focused again on the teacher, noticing that he had gotten closer, concerned for his wellbeing.

Keep it together, Satanick! the demon reprimanded himself. You can do this!

“I – I was – ,” Satanick stuttered out a shaky response, his trembling right hand reaching up to take hold of his collar in some semblance of stability. A nervous laugh slipped past his lips, his knees wobbling in weakness. Oh no, oh no! Panicking, Satanick could feel sweat beading on his brow. Those deep, dark eyes stared at him, a mixture of attentiveness and confusion creasing his features. However, Victor remained where he was, alert yet taking time to process the situation.

His calm demeanor, the way he was not immediately demanding anything else from the fumbling student…. A sense of peace brushed over Satanick’s frazzled brain, the young man’s tense muscles beginning to relax. Victor Flankenstein was a caring man, wasn’t he…?

Momentarily closing his eyes, Satanick took a deep breath in through his nostrils before exhaling. A few seconds of composure mercifully granted to him, Satanick finally opened his eyes. Meeting Victor’s, the demon smoothly spoke. “I’m sorry, Mr. Flankenstein. I am… not quite myself today. I think I might be coming down with something.”

Victor quietly watched him for a few seconds. The momentary silence left the student fidgeting where he stood, though he tried to hide the jitters. His already racing heart accelerated. Perhaps he had overdone it? There was no way Victor would –

“Come in. I’ll examine you.”

Porcelain fingers waved Satanick into the room as he turned on his heel. Victor’s loafers tapped lightly across the smooth linoleum as he turned towards his right towards a white cabinet. Too stunned to even think, Satanick steadily crept into the room, his large eyes taking in the simplistic décor of a typical infirmary. On auto-pilot, the demon quickly gathered in his surroundings. A few cabinets, table, and desk were par for the course alongside an adjoining bathroom near the back right. Lining that side of the wall were five cots separated by white curtains. With all of them pulled back on their rolling tracks, no other students were present. That alone was enough motivation for Satanick to continue onwards even though his gut was doing somersaults. Alone with the professor he fancied – it was too good to be true! Was this reality or another fantasy his brain had concocted? Either way, Satanick was left floating in a dream.

“Have a seat.” Victor directed Satanick to his next duty, and the demon’s eyes quickly scanned for the nearest one. A cushioned rolling stool sat beside Victor’s desk, and Satanick obliged. It’s position was slightly lower than that of what an average high schooler would have it at, so it was a tad awkward to sit on. Nevertheless, Satanick eagerly yet cautiously did so. He feared if his trembling body did not cease he would soon be on the floor. Setting his bag next to him, the demon placed his empty hands atop his legs. Lightly gripping his knees, Satanick quickly observed what he could of Victor’s desk. Bare bones except for a few office supplies and folders, it was a perfectly normal setup. However, he recalled that day he had seen Victor smiling at a photograph. His heart once more aflutter, he tried to find the catalyst that would bring such a look to –

“Satanick, is it?”

Satanick practically leapt off the stool as his head shot towards Victor. In such a lowered seat, Satanick stared up at the man, though not by much. Victor was quite small in comparison to his stature – another trait that Satanick found endearing about the man. Satanick’s eyes soon left Victor’s as he noticed a stethoscope draped around the man’s neck. Victor was truly going to listen to his heartbeat?! The organ thumped even louder knowing what was approaching, and his racing mind could barely catch a cohesive thought. Rampantly running ahead of his brain, his mouth uttered out, “H – How did you know my name?”

Plucking another instrument off the counter, Victor explained, “I hear many things as students pass through the halls. Your school doesn’t house that many individuals, yet it’s quite the noisy bunch.” Turning back to Satanick, Victor held out the object in his right hand towards Satanick’s face. Satanick momentarily blinked to determine what it was that he was staring at before realizing it was a thermometer.

Is he trying to make me pass out?! Satanick internally screamed at Victor’s unintentional motions. These were methods commonly used when examining a patient, yet all Satanick could think of was further embarrassing himself. Relax, relax! he told himself for the umpteenth time. Just go along with it. It doesn’t mean anything else. Obedient to Victor’s silent request, Satanick opened his mouth for the thin point of the thermometer to be inserted. His cheeks ablaze, Satanick stifled the squirming sensation that rushed throughout his stomach and straight into his pelvis.

“Hold it under your tongue for forty seconds,” Victor instructed. Reaching up, he placed the rounded prongs of the stethoscope into his ears before taking hold of the silver chestpiece. Leaning in, Victor brought the item forward. As he did, strands of silky black hair draped down the sides of his face and over his white coat. “Stay perfectly still. I’m just going to listen to your heart.”

Sitting up as straight as he could, Satanick sucked in a deep breath, almost forgetting to release it the moment Victor pressed the diaphragm to his chest. Even with his uniform jacket, Satanick was sure that Victor would hear the beating organ had it not already leapt out of his body. He was grateful that this tool could at least not hear his inner thoughts. He had only wanted to be in Victor’s presence, and now the very man was only mere inches from him! Truly this had to be a dream!

Victor’s gaze stared off towards the side as he listened for any abnormalities, giving Satanick ample time to examine the man up close. As suspected, his complexion was fair with barely any noticeable flaws. The sunlight that filtered through the window behind him highlighted his glossy ebony locks, making the thin white strands almost glow. Satanick wondered just how old Victor truly was. White hair signified age in mortals, did it not? Of course, there were not that many strands to suggest Victor was old, yet Satanick could not help his curiosity. Then again, he truly had no real comprehension of his own age. Demons aged at a much slower rate than other creatures, and the decades had begun to blend together that he could not pinpoint a certain number.

All the same, a teacher comingling with a student….

Letting out a light sigh through his nostrils, Victor straightened himself up as he extracted himself from Satanick. “Your heartbeat certainly is erratic, but it seems normal enough in its own sense.” Removing the ear tips, Victor draped the stethoscope around his neck before plucking the thermometer from between Satanick’s lips. Glancing at the display screen, Victor read the numbers. An understanding look crossed his features, and he nodded. Turning back to the cupboards, he tinkered with replacing the thermometer tip for a new one, the clink of the stethoscope being placed down soon following. “You present no symptoms of a fever either, though you really don’t look well.”

Of course, Satanick knew that had been part of the plan, yet a twinge of self-consciousness pricked at him. He had wanted Victor’s attention and sympathy, yet he wanted to display some level of aplomb! Swallowing back the saliva that had gathered in his mouth to clear the lump in his throat, Satanick spoke up. “Oh, I see. Well, you’re the professional. I’ll trust your judgment.” Shifting on the seat to ease his crunched up knees, Satanick awaited Victor’s final verdict.

Glancing over his right shoulder at the strange student, Victor looked him up and down for a moment, further flustering the demon. Victor was stoic, and it was difficult to gauge what he was thinking. Fairly capable at deducing other’s attributes, Victor was an enigma even for someone with his level of skill. Graciously, Satanick did not have to ponder what was going through the nurse’s mind as he commented, “You could have adjusted the seat. It would be a bit more comfortable that way.”  

A momentary silence filled the room as Satanick gauged Victor’s words. Was he seriously considering his strange seating habits at a time like this? The first inklings of a smile crossed his lips before a small, lighthearted chuckle slipped out. “Yes, I suppose you’re right, Mr. Flankenstein.” It felt good to laugh; an untouchable weight lifted from his shoulders by something as trivial as humor. Continuing on this lightheartedness, Satanick teased, “I thought perhaps you always make your patients sit this way.”

Satanick’s heart skipped a beat as he watched the tiniest smirk tug at the corner of Victor’s mouth. Not a full-fledged smile, but one that left him aflutter all the same.  

“Amusing as that may be, I’m afraid the explanation is far from torturous methods on high school students.” Stepping away from the cabinets, Victor circled around Satanick back to his desk. Satanick slowly swiveled on the stool to keep his attention on Victor as the man leaned over his desk. Picking up a nearby pen, he scratched something down on a nearby clipboard – most likely Satanick’s vitals if the young man had to guess. As he did so, Victor’s dark locks hung down in front of his face. The streaming sunlight reflected off his glasses, making his onyx eyes shine. Mundanely, Victor continued the conversation – small talk perhaps in his mind, yet it meant the world to the one hanging on his every word. “I suppose I’ll have to fix it after Crea uses it in the mornings.”

At the mention of a new name, Satanick’s curiosity piqued even more. “Oh?” he automatically replied. “Crea?” The words slipped out naturally as if conversing with a dear friend, though his twitching nerves reminded him to not become overly familiar with Victor so quickly. Assertiveness was good, though pushiness was a distasteful trait.

Without batting an eye as he focused on his work, Victor replied, “My daughter.”

A new revelation had been bestowed upon the vivacious devil, leaving Satanick with even more questions and admiration for this human. Victor had a child? Just how old was she? If there was a daughter, was there a son? Not only that, did he have a wife? The surreal reality of entering Victor’s life even this tiny bit left the usually chatty man stunned. Thankfully, Victor did not seem to notice the odd behavior – or if he had, he chose not to say; Satanick prayed the former.

Briefly straightening himself before settling into his tall-backed chair, Victor pivoted towards the empty cots. “Feel free to rest up a bit until you feel a bit more stable. However, I won’t just let you dawdle too long. Some students have a tendency to abuse the infirmary to skip classes.” Victor’s brow furrowed a bit as he let out a disgruntled sigh. “I swear,” he lightly muttered under his breath, more to himself than for Satanick. Those shining eyes directed themselves at Satanick as he concluded his instructions. “That sounds reasonable enough, right, Satanick?”

His name. Victor had said his name again.

Satanick’s felt his cheeks becoming naturally warm again, quickly nodding to deter his body and brain from exposing his uncontrollable reactions. “Yes, Mr. Flankenstein.”

Seemingly pleased with his response, Victor nodded curtly before focusing back on his desk. Satanick watched as he turned back to his work before slowly moving to remove himself. It would be even more awkward should he sit there and observe Victor directly. Even if it was just the two of them in the room, Satanick quietly retrieved his bag before making his way over towards the wall of beds. Picking a random one, Satanick returned his bag to floor before taking a seat on the edge of the cot. Small enough for one person yet long enough for his stature; he slowly slid himself onto the makeshift resting area. The mattress was not quite comfy and the sheets were thin, yet he supposed that was the way it was meant to be for a variety of reasons. All the same, the amenities were more than enough to pacify the frazzled demon.

Carefully lowering himself onto the thin pillow, Satanick simply watched the back of Victor’s chair. He could not quite see him, yet knowing he was there was more than enough to fill him with vigor yet apprehension. He could truly rest here for a while in Victor’s room? Well – the school’s infirmary, yet Mr. Flankenstein’s domain nonetheless. The familiar sensation of lightheadedness washed over him, and Satanick finally allowed his eyes to drift off the black chair towards the white ceiling. It was an awkward position to find oneself in, yet one that he would not trade. Resting his hands atop each other on his stomach, Satanick closed his eyes to stop the spinning room.

I did it, he silently stated. I actually pulled it off. Exactly what he meant he was uncertain of, yet the sentiment remained. He had finally gotten to meet with the one whom had been unrelentingly on his mind. Somehow – someway – this man had captivated him. Almost hypnotic, spellbinding; were it not for his own brother being a deity, Satanick would reckon Victor a god. His mannerisms were perfect for such a benevolent yet firm human.

Satanick’s lips tugged upwards into a soft smile as he imagined Victor an angel. He could not wait to sketch out such a radiant idea! Perhaps when the his body and mind settled down and finally processed all this new information, he would return to his academics and engrave such an image on paper as it played out in his mind.

Chapter Text

The time spent with Victor was painfully delightful. Their initial meeting had only exacerbated Satanick’s condition – the school nurse being the one consistent thought on his mind. Be it visiting Victor throughout the week to spend time with him due to his “chronic bouts of sickness” or simply fantasying about him, Satanick found himself captivated by this man. Even his dreams had started involving Victor in one fashion or another. Waking or sleeping, Victor Flankenstein was becoming a prominent fascination. Satanick wondered just how he had let it get to this point – that he had genuinely fallen for this man. Not just any man either – a human and a teacher, no less!

Be that as it may, love held no logical, and each passing moment only intensified the growing bond he felt towards Victor. If he was not bodily present in the infirmary with him, Satanick spent much of his free time daydreaming. No thought was too trivial when it came to this infatuation. What was Victor’s favorite color? Did he have a personal preference for certain foods? Being a father, did he read bedtime stories to his child at night? Some questions were easily attainable in his talks with Victor and through his mannerisms. However, despite their conversations growing in length, Satanick had to remind himself about erecting a certain barrier. To become too forward and pushy could easily derail the progress they had made, and that was a risk he was unwilling to take. Instead, passing comments from visiting students or faculty helped fill in any gaps that left much to the imagination.

And quite the imagination Satanick possessed….

A thick, hardcover sketchbook was frequently in Satanick’s possession everywhere he went. What had started as a simple sketch of Victor smiling had soon become a full-fledged hobby. Of course, Satanick had always been creative and enjoyed being multi-talented; be it with instruments, writing, or drawing, he found great pleasure in the artistic realm. Now that Victor was always on his mind, his hobby had soon developed into an outlet. Spurred on by whimsical ideas, Satanick sketched anything and everything he could imagine about Victor. He was simply too beautiful a subject to let such opportunities pass him by. The tiniest movement, the simplest look – all that Victor displayed was fuel for Satanick’s desires. Of course, he could never act upon such a thing so rashly! The next best thing had been to reimagine the scene. Each pose Satanick drew him in felt as if he was in the very company of Victor. That alone had been enough… at least, for a while.

As days turned to weeks, Satanick found his desires growing to that of a normal high school boy. A passionate man, he was all too familiar with erotic feelings. Thoughts of Victor became more lewd in nature, and Satanick’s cravings grew. It was completely normal – he told himself that as much anyway. Nevertheless, the first precarious inkling he had of Victor was more than enough for Satanick to freeze up. Victor was a gorgeous man – he knew that quite well – but to imagine such things of him felt… wrong. He was a pure man, one untainted by such lasciviousness! That is what Satanick viewed him as at any rate. However, the more he tried to stifle such emotions, the stronger the lust grew.

Satanick was an experienced lover, yet even the mere thought of kissing Victor left him faint. Truly there was no way such a thing would ever be permitted! Protocol would cease such ridiculous imaginings, yet the wants never quite faded. Home alone in the safety of his bedroom, Satanick curled his long legs to his chest to quell the rising heat and tightness he felt in both his gut and his loins. His cheeks bloomed at the mere thought of Victor’s mouth on his, and the devil was soon burying his face between his knees in shame. He wrapped his arms around his legs in an effort to further conceal himself from his own dirty mind. Why were they so persistent?!

“Dammit!” he huffed aloud, his voice muffled by his makeshift hideaway. He could not continue like this for much longer! The ideas plagued him too much! There was no way he could admit such thoughts to Victor let alone act upon them! Satanick shook his head back and forth in an effort to shut down such erroneous thinking, his dark hair swaying around his face. As the heat continued to rise in his stomach, Satanick slowly rotated his head. Resting his left temple on his knees, his eyes listlessly stared at the plain white wall of his bedroom. A tiny apartment shared by his brother and him, Satanick hoped that the pureness of such a simple color could alleviate some of his wantonness.

That was when the familiar black color of his sketchbook caught his attention. Out of his peripheral vision, Satanick’s wandering eyes landed on the object perched on his bedside table.

The demon slowly unfurled himself as his bright eyes lit up. A brilliant new idea had suddenly struck him.  

Knock knock knock.

The typical rap of knuckles on the doorframe filled the empty infirmary, causing the lone figure at the medicine cabinet to glance over his left shoulder. Of course, he knew whom to expect. The knock had become customary as had the routine of one particular visitor. As expected, the brief glimpse of dark hair and shining phlox irises on a tall stature was proof enough that his original hypothesis had been proven true. A brief nod towards Satanick, Victor acknowledged him before turning back to his work. “Satanick.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Flankenstein ~ !” Satanick happily greeted the nurse as he slid into the room. The rustle of his uniform and the soft tap of his approaching shoes indicated the demon’s trajectory towards him. Turning on his heel, Victor glanced back at the “perpetually ill” devil. The usual stoicism lining his features, Victor silently examined Satanick’s form. Dressed in his black uniform, he casually held a matching book by the spine, perched on his left hip. No outward ailment seemed to have befallen the young man per usual. All the same, he appeared far too frequently for it to be coincidence. The day was almost at an end, and he would soon have to retrieve Crea from the elementary school. No matter the hour, Satanick made his presence known.

Finishing up his task, Victor turned to face the smiling student. Resting his hips against the lower edge of the cupboard, Victor placed his palms on the edge as he casually spoke with Satanick. Perhaps he had become a bit too complacent around the boy; as a professor, he had to uphold professionalism. All the same, with the frequency of Satanick’s visits, Victor found himself somewhat relaxed in his presence. Familiarity was certainly a humorous concept. Even with some level of comfort reached, Victor kept his demeanor and interactions formal per the norm. “What brings you in today, Satanick? Another fever?”

Satanick’s lips curled into a somewhat nervous smile as he chuckled. “Mr. Flankenstein, it seems you know me a bit too well.” The subtlest shift in Satanick’s stance was barely recognizable, though moving from his left foot to his right was something Victor noticed. As one that had to remain vigilant for changes in a patient’s condition, Victor easily deduced Satanick’s nerves were playing into his current status. It appeared that had always been a common ailment, though what stumped the teacher was determining if it was from a symptom of an underlying sickness or if there was more to Satanick’s pop-ins than met the eye.

Slightly tilting his head to the left, Victor stared at the fidgeting man in a more serious manner. “Satanick, may I ask you something personal?”

The book that Satanick had been holding was now brought in front of his person. Clutching it with both hands as if it was a defense mechanism, Satanick easily replied. “Of course, sir.” He appeared composed, yet Victor sensed his tension. He wondered why such a confident young man was always antsy.

Taking a moment, Victor inquired, “Are you truly okay, Satanick?”

Satanick simply stared directly into Victor’s dark eyes, taken aback by such a question. Another subtle movement had Satanick shifting on his feet yet again as his hands tightened around his makeshift lifeline. “I’m… sorry, Professor. I’m not quite sure what you mean.” The lighting of the evening sun settling in provided enough natural light that the typical fluorescent bulbs were unnecessary. Even with a singular source, a tiny sheen of sweat was visible on Satanick’s forehead.

Slipping his hands from behind him, Victor casually crossed his arms over his lab coat. “Most students that come to me are sick, have had the occasional accident, or are trying to avoid their studies. However, each time I examine you, I cannot seem to find any symptoms indicative of illness.” Victor paused as he gauged Satanick’s reaction, though little changed.

Satanick rotated his jaw, gathering saliva back into his dry mouth before replying, “I assure you I am not that ill, just a bit – weakened.”

A frail constitution did make sense; Victor had seen his fair share of that with humans though even rarer with demons. There were exceptions to the rule, yet Satanick did not quite seem to fit that classification. Each inspection yielded results of a perfectly healthy adolescent. Raising an eyebrow in doubt, Victor straightened his head to stare directly into Satanick’s eyes. “You sure you aren’t here with an ulterior motive?”

The teacher worried that he would soon have an unconscious patient to take care of with how Satanick blanched. If he fell down right now, he could easily sustain a head injury thanks to the tiled flooring. Victor debated moving closer should this become a reality. Thankfully, Satanick seemed to be able to gather his bearings enough to stutter out, “W – What do you mean?”

Victor cocked an eyebrow as he studied this enigma. Nonchalantly, he explained the obvious response, “Skipping class, Satanick. Are you simply coming here to avoid them?”

Hesitation weighed across Satanick’s features for a brief second before the visible tension vanished from his shoulders. He could not be certain, but it looked as if Satanick was… relieved? And was he holding back a laugh? This only served to further confound Victor, slightly irked that in some capacity Satanick found it comical. Color was returning to Satanick’s porcelain skin as he breathed out, “Of course I’m not intentionally skipping out on classes, Mr. Flankenstein! That would be – .”

Whatever reasoning or excuses would have slid off Satanick’s tongue halted the moment his relaxing muscles released the hold on his book. Sensing it slipping free, Satanick once more paled as he fumbled to save it. However, his deft fingers slipped over the object before it thumped to the floor. The impact had been enough to loosen up the spine’s binding, scattering several pieces of paper. As the book lie in a heap surrounded by a few of its lost sheets, Victor feared Satanick would crumple right behind it.

With little air left in his lungs, Satanick blurted out, “I’M SORRY!” Victor could only watch in stunned silence as the young man practically lunged to his knees. “I’ll clean this up right away!” Satanick quickly began scooping up the pages into a pile, though his shaking hands were certainly hindering him. Staring at the back of Satanick’s head, Victor imagined the fear that filled the boy’s eyes. He had only caught a glimpse of it before throwing himself down.

Letting out a resigned sigh, Victor began lowering himself to the floor. “It’s not a big deal, Satanick. Let me hel – .”

“NO NEED!”

As Victor’s knees touched the cool tile, a blinding pain shot through his forehead. His eyes naturally shut closed as the ache began to spread. “Gah!” As his left hand braced himself against the floor, his right naturally shot up to cradle his wounded head.

“Victor!” Satanick cried out, his voice cracking in a new panic. “Are you okay?! Are you hurt?”

“Uugghhh,” Victor groaned, rubbing at his bruised head. He had dealt with his fair share of bumps throughout his years, yet the combination of Satanick’s tree-like horns and hard head were a formidable combination. The rustling of papers had ceased, and Victor steadily opened his eyes. He imagined that Satanick’s concern was no longer on the littered pages but rather him. “I’m fine,” he grumbled out.

Come to think of it…. Had he called him by his first name?

He supposed that did not currently matter. Right now, his main priority was helping Satanick figure out what was ailing him today before sending him off for the umpteenth time. From how he was presenting himself, Satanick had not sustained nearly as much of a headache.

“A – Are you sure? I’m very sorry I ran into you!”

Satanick’s interest for his health was appreciated albeit it annoying. The situation had not needed to arrive if he had only allowed him to help. Why was he so adamant about these papers?

“I told you I’m fine,” Victor huffed out, hoping his tone was not overly rough. His gaze finally took inventory of his surroundings. A few centimeters in front of him lay a collection of pages. Some were tossed atop each other, obscuring the various markings on the pages. Satanick was an artist? Well, he had no need to be ashamed for his creations. Perhaps he was simply too shy to let anyone else see. A twinge of sympathy pricked at Victor’s conscious. He understood the sentiment far too well of never letting another see the sort of work one did….

Finally lowering his right hand, Victor reached forward towards the sheet closest to him. As his hand met the thin sheet, another soon followed atop his. Staring at the masculine yet slender fingers with pitch black nails, Victor slowly raised his head. Inches away from his face was Satanick’s own. His cheeks were reddened in embarrassment, and his purple eyes were enlarged, presumably from the mishap. Nonetheless, as the warm sunlight of the late afternoon shone through the back window, Victor could swear the young man’s face was growing redder by the second.

Unsure how much time passed in those few seconds, Satanick soon realized where he had placed his hand. Looking down as if in confirmation, he followed the attached arm back to Victor’s face, only to quickly shoot his gaze down again. As if he had touched flame, Satanick jerked his hand away, his body naturally following suit. “I – I’m sorry, Professor!”   

Victor stared in confusion at such a visceral reaction. Just what had come over this boy to behave so erratically? Perhaps he really was sick with some unknown complication. There was truly only way to find out, and that was with a routine wellness check. However, before such a thing could occur, the matter of the broken sketchbook needed tending to.

His hand upon the page, Victor clasped onto it. Sliding it towards himself, he naturally turned the sheet to place it in his left hand to gather the remaining pieces. As he did so, Victor leaned back on his ankles as he transferred the page. Not on to snoop, Victor did not make a conscious effort to peek at the drawing. However, certain strokes caught his attention, and the teacher glanced at the artwork.

His brain unsure what he was staring at continued to stare for a few milliseconds longer before his mouth took over. “What is this?” Logically, he knew what it was. Satanick was amazingly talented – that much was evident with the level of detail provided in this piece. However, what caught Victor off guard was the subject matter he was viewing.

In his possession was a drawing of himself, though in a much more promiscuous light. Lying supine, his head was tossed back and his face contorted in what could only be described the throes of pleasure. None other than the form hovering above his naked one was the image of a half-naked Satanick.

In a flash, the sketch was snatched from his hand. As it flew out, Victor watched in stunned silence as Satanick hurriedly scooped up the remaining pages. Never had he seen someone move at such speed! With both book and crumpled pages haphazardly gathered to his bosom, Satanick stumbled to his feet. A few shaky steps backwards, his eyes remained locked on Victor still sitting on the floor. His entire face red as fire, Satanick’s eyes and lips trembled in utter shock. Neither knew what to say to the other, the only audible sound slipping past Satanick’s lips being that of shallow gasps.

Before Victor formulated a response, Satanick yelped, “I’M SO SORRRRYYYYYYY!” His voice trailed behind him as he lurched out of the infirmary, his movements as rapid and sporadic as a fawn learning to walk. The flutter of rustling paper followed him as his cries steadily died down.

Staring at the now empty doorway, Victor sat in silence as he attempted to process what had just happened. Had what he just seen been real, or had he simply imagined it? As the school nurse, he was frequently around all manner of species. Surely he had acquired a bug of some sort that was making him hallucinate.

An utterly foolish excuse; he knew that to be the utmost truth.

Slowly raising himself up, Victor continued staring at the open door before letting out a sigh. What he was truly despondent about was hard to pinpoint in his throbbing, frazzled head. Rotating, Victor stared at the clock above his desk. After school activities would be ending in a bit, and Crea would need to be picked up. Mentally nodding to himself, Victor made his way around the room, tidying up the last of his duties for the day. He soon gathered his belongings before heading to the door.

Standing outside the infirmary, Victor looked back in at the lone space. Only minutes ago Satanick had been in there profusely apologizing for a multitude of things. He wondered if the young man would be back within the next couple of days….

Gripping the handle, Victor slid the door shut before locking it up. Returning the key to his jacket, Victor closed his eyes as he breathed out another sigh. “He’ll return soon I’m sure.” Whether that gave him peace of mind or not was still highly unclear.

Determining that tomorrow would be another day to speculate on the “what-ifs,” Victor straightened himself as he made his way down the empty hallway. He best not dawdle; his daughter would be waiting for him. Placing his hand inside his coat pocket, the sensation of drawing paper lingered on his palm.