Chapter Text
you recall the train of events that led you here, and think it's turning out to be quite the definition of "stepping out of your own comfort zone".
you should've known by now, professor anaxagoras isn't any typical professor you've come across. he successfully provokes people who dare challenge him, no matter their status. he engages with debates with students, as long as both parties are willing to keep going, even if the unwilling audience (the rest of the class) isn't as impressed. he spontaneously bursts out into hearty laughter whenever he gets an epiphany, gets defeated in a battle of wits, or... out of nowhere, really, which has caused him to abandon classes halfway, although you were told he was way worse with this when Amphoreus was still a simulated world.
"i haven't seen much of the cosmos, but i can still vouch for professor anaxa's excellent teaching abilities," phainon had regaled you with some of his gossip as he handed you a carefully wrapped up muffin, supposedly a specialty from his hometown. "of course, i understand if not everyone can handle him. people are still free to disagree with his thinking."
disagree with him? you're not so sure about that. but you're definitely intrigued; by the professor's mind, his way of thinking - the kind that is already starting to shake the cosmos as you know it, the passion he pours into each lesson - which makes it hard for even you to fall asleep, and how astutely he observes each and every student no matter if they're from the outworld or from amphoreus. you think about how he emphasises on the importance of asking questions, how to ask questions to get the answers you need, how to arrive at the solution... this encompasses just a small portion of how he thirsts for knowledge, but it strikes deep into your heart how it's done.
you feel admiration.
the fact that the genius does not desire to keep discoveries to himself, and wants everyone to keep knocking for the truth... it reminds you of another renowned doctor in the cosmos, but anaxagoras is a little different still. there's something about him that makes you want to sign up for every single class he has, and you tell yourself it's definitely because of how engaging he makes his classes.
of course, you can't do that, especially for classes you hadn't the faintest interest for but he's somehow the lecturer for. and as fate would have it, an ad for a teaching assistant caught your eye, which led you to the current situation at hand.
the situation is both a little ridiculous yet you find yourself watching with bated breath at times; the professor has yet begun another debate with a student, their points jabbing at the holes in each other's arguments, even the students are watching in anticipation although none could butt in.
but you can't sit back and let the flurry of words wash over you; your fingers fly over the keyboard trying to capture all the general points that has been made. you do tire after half an hour of furious typing, and the professor has already been restricted to just an hour of debate, from the prior lack of restriction. he accepts the change, then passes on the burden of transcribing the debate to any willing assistant.
that's the same role you walked into... hook, line, and sinker even. by the time the professor and the student is almost done, you wonder how none of them needed a pause or a drink for an hour straight. the student does however take a swig to end the debate... for the time being.
professor anaxagoras glanced over at you, and you give a nod as signal that the debate has been recorded. "don't think that I'm done here, everyone," he turns around to pick up the sheet of topics to be discussed, and you know he's about to start drilling concepts into the students' heads, so you take it as your cue to distribute the class notes.
it should be a break of sorts for you, but yet again you find yourself entranced by the professor's animated and even humorous (perhaps your sense of humor is just odd) way of teaching, occasionally nonchalantly slamming his gun against the board to make a point. the class students do sometimes whisper to you to ask about things they wouldn't want to interrupt the professor for, and you observe how they approached you; timidly, curiously, or in a way that spells "eh, i'd rather talk to you", and all of them were a delight to talk to nevertheless.
you do feel the professor's gaze on your head as you chat away with some students, and you half expect him to call you out for it. but nothing of that sort happened, and before you knew it, the class ends and you're left staring blankly at the board filled with scrawls, exhaustion gradually seeping in.
"how's your first lesson?" the professor's voice rings out, snapping you out of your reverie.
suddenly, the soreness of your fingers become more apparent, and you resist the urge to complain. but you're not sure you should lace your words with all the sugar in the world either. you're endlessly grateful for the opportunity to keep up with the professor's way of working and his thinking, but you're not sure if you'd like the possibility of having to end up burning at both wicks just to follow him to the end.
you're thinking too much, you tell yourself. he only asked a simple question.
good. it was a fruitful session. words you want to say, but you still can't bring yourself to vocalise.
you instead blurt out: "professor, why did you pick me to be your assistant?"
you see the corner of his mouth twitch. "fascinating question! then allow me to ask you first; why did you sign up?"
a sudden, unfiltered emotion, or a thought, manifests at the tip of your tongue, but you quickly shut it away and allow rationality to return.
"i've always greatly admired your teaching methodologies... your never-ending pursuit for knowledge, willingness to learn from anything and everything, your encouragement for your students to do the same..." you pause, letting your thoughts settle in your head before arranging them in a more cohesive manner. "if there's anyone i can learn the most from, it would be you. and being under your tutelage for an extended period of time is indeed... an honour, if you'd let me..." you trail off, panic seeping into your mind and hoping the professor didn't take your question-for-an-answer too badly, or start to think differently about you.
you observe him properly then, and you see that he's still grinning, seemingly satisfied with the answer you gave him. "there were other applicants," he discloses upfront, taking a seat next to you. "simply put, the rest didn't have motivations that align with how I'd conduct my lessons. personally, i do think ive picked the right person," he leans back into the chair and holds your gaze. "well annotated notes that account for pretty much everything in the debate, which will be useful for the following lesson... and engaging the class where i couldn't. i believe you'll grow into the role well, but i also asked you..." anaxagoras then proceeds to stare at you pointedly, where you're currently in a bit of an internal mess from being praised.
"uuhhh?" you manage intelligently.
"...how you feel about your first lesson," he snorts, but not unkindly. "if it's too much to handle, or if it was piss easy, let me know. yes, your true feelings about it."
you feel like you could finally put down that heavy rock in your heart, and start to talk about how his lectures are engaging as always, but the debates could be tricky to keep following.
"I'm not saying you should cut the debates down especially with willing participants, although i do think engaging more of the class would be great..."
anaxagoras listens to your feedback intently, and once you indicate you're done, he lets out a hearty laugh that catches you by surprise.
when does it never, though?
"not bad, not bad... there's much to think about, always so many things you can take away from just a regular class," he exclaims, and before you realise it he's already waltzing out of the classroom with his things - his signature gun, clipboard with a singular piece of paper, and his phone- teleslate - and laughing heartily into the corridor. "what are you still sitting there for?" he yells from outside. "get out and take a break!"
he's already gone by the time you hurry out, which is a huge pity really. you kick yourself for feeling your heart sink - but at least you could collect your thoughts alone for the time being.
realisation from earlier hit you fully; you had been about to reply something completely out of pocket when the professor asks about your motivation for being his assistant.
because i like you
it feels wrong but also not wrong at the same time. wrong because at no point in time should you ever tell him this... but is it really a lie if you were about to blurt it out?
he wanted your true feelings about his class
not That kind, you furiously fight back your rebellious thoughts, and make your way to the nearby café to try empty your mind. you remember the grove was more or less just a large academia hub in name and in infrastructure, but after amphoreus manifested into a tangible place, food stores and cafés begun to spring up. you're grateful for that, because you're not sure diving into the library would've been any better to calm your thoughts.
just two sips into your favourite drink, and your phone (you can call it a phone, you're not from amphoreus anyway...) buzzes and the professor has already sent you his schedule, various ideas for lesson structures, and an accompanying dromas sticker. you find yourself grinning; your previous worries cast out as you brainstorm the ideas with the professor over text, only noticing your hot drink becoming cold when you're done. it's just a minor inconvenience for you; you could always grab another one later, and maybe ask what snacks the professor like so you can slip him some when you have to make the trip to his lab.
it's almost as if fate, or even anaxagoras himself, telling you that everything will be fine - you're still working with him, you'll have plenty of opportunities to talk to him, get to know him more, and learn even more from each class. and if there are any lingering thoughts, it's alright to take it one step at a time.
(your heart is now lighter, although you decided against actually skipping back to your lodgings for whatever dignity you have left.)