Chapter Text
You're sitting at your desk. Your messy, messy desk. Students' works are thrown all over the surface, the stickers you use for good grades (middle schoolers still weirdly love stickers) have long left their organized map and the pens you use are laying next to your pencil case instead of in. It looks like chaos. But to you, it's just the best way to work.
Music is softly playing in the background, is your favourite band. But after today even that isn't working for you. You're thinking about just turning it off, but sitting in silence would be even more daunting.
Listen, you love your job. It's great, you love your students. They are a bright and creative bunch- okay, some of them are a little annoying. But who isn't sometimes? Today however, has been hell.
The way it started was already enough to tick you off. This morning when you went to get your bike, you quickly found out one of your tires was half empty. You had sighed, but quickly shrugged off the annoyance. You got the airpump, and put some air into it. But to no one's surprise, that didn't help. Turns out the tire had popped, so any air that went in, went straight out.
Okay, no biggie. You will just take the bus. Turns out the bus hates you and decided to drive past you, despite you standing there. Hand out and all! Whatever, the next one should be there in 5 minutes anyways. Long live living in the city.
5 minutes later, the bus wasn’t there yet. Turns out it got cancelled, and so did the next one. This annoyance was harder to shake off. Like, come on! You were half tempted to call in sick. Later that day you wished you had, damn your good behavior.
No bike, no bus. You don't even have a car, it's in the garage after your friend wrecked it in a car crash. It had been a complete accident, and you have insurance. But you couldn't help but feel salty about it as you walked the long road towards the school.
The walk sucked. Your bag is heavy. It's full with students’ work you were hoping to grade before class started (that's not happening anymore, now that you're going to be there way later…) and a heavy old laptop. Well, at least the weather is okay…
The moment you thought that, you had a sudden feeling of dread. But luckily, it stays dry your entire walk. Maybe your bad luck has finally run out!
Wrong.
It had not run out.
Your first class went better than expected, you had walked into the class room 5 minutes before it had to start. So you barely had any time to set up. But you improvised (put on a little video to start the day), and it went just fine.
The next class was messy, apparently two of the students had gotten in an argument during their last period. And if you had to give 13 year olds an adjective, it would be petty.
Somehow today of all days turned out to be the day you forgot your lunch. So you had to pay for the overpriced, prepackaged lunch in the teachers lounge. If it wasn't for your favourite colleague Ryland sitting next to you and talking about some sciency thing you barely understood, you probably would have snapped.
The whole day keeps going like this. Tiny inconveniences just one right after the other. You could have handled a few, but this… you're on your last straw. Lets just say that if one more thing goes wrong you can't be held responsible for your actions.
You sigh. You're being dramatic. You tell yourself to take a few deep breaths. You lean back into your chair, the pink pen you're holding tapping onto the desk as you stare into your classroom.
The sun is setting, you can't help but miss the summer. At least then the days feel longer, now it's dark by the time you go home. In the summer you have sunlight, and that makes you want to be productive. Now all you can think about is laying on your couch, opening a pack of snacks, and rewatching the same show you have seen more times than you're willing to admit.
Your gaze drifts from the windows to your walls, your attention moves to the posters you have hanging. When you started as an art teacher here, you had one big plan. Make your room the coolest and prettiest there is. Other teachers would look at it with envy, students would admire your creativity and…
Your thoughts dwell off as you stare at a specific poster. Normally you don't care for it. Today, however, it pisses you off.
It's a picture of a cartoony cat knitting a blanket. A bright yellow text in the blanket says I will make my own good days.
You can't help but scoff. Make my own good days. What a joke.
You tap your pen on your desk a few more times as you stare at it. It's a stupid poster, make my own good days. You repeat it in your brain a few times.
You aren't sure why it's pissing you off so much. Normally you would agree. Yes, you have to make your own good days. You're a positive person, you always find something good. But something about today makes you want to just… brood a little.
You force yourself to look back at your work. To the piece the student had worked on, you can tell they spend a lot of time on it. You uncap your pen again, stopping your tapping.
You stare at the drawing blankly.
You can't stop thinking about that damn poster.
You put your pen down, not even putting the cap back on. You take a few long steps towards the poster, and without thinking you tear it off the wall. You crumble it into a ball as you walk over to your overflowing paper bin.
The moment you start stuffing it into the pile you can't help but mumble.
“Make your own good days now, bitch.”
“Woah, who put your shoelaces in a twist?” A voice by your door suddenly says. You snap your head towards the door. You feel your face heat up in embarrassment as you get caught in your moment of weakness.
“It had it coming.” You say, pushing the paper deeper into the pile. It springs back up the moment you let go. You really need to empty that trashcan, another thing that annoys you.
He raises a brow, walking into your classroom with his hands in his cardigan pockets. “I’m sure it did… What did it do?”
You wave your hand dismissively. You know your reason for throwing it away is a bit dramatic. So you lie. “Eh, I’m redecorating.”
He looks around the classroom, noticing nothing has changed. Expect for the fact there is now a large empty space between all the other posters. He points at it, almost offended.
“Did you throw away Carl?” He says, his gaze going from you to the wall and back. “I loved that little guy!”
You and him had named him Carl. Why? Apparently he looked like a cat from Ryland's childhood. Some random old cat that strolled around his neighborhood.
“I needed a change- go fish him out of the damn trash if you like him so much.” The words leave your mouth much harsher than intended. It was supposed to be teasing. But apparently there is a malfunction between your brain and your vocal cords because you just snapped at your best friend over a stupid poster.
You pinch the skin between your eyes, mumbling a sorry as you plop down into your chair, rolling backwards slightly.
Ryland stays silent for a little while. It can't be more than 3 seconds, but it’s enough for you to decide you're the worst human being on this planet.
“I have the feeling this isn't about Carl.” he says gently, closing the door behind him before walking up to where you're sitting. His gentle tone makes you feel even worse, stop being kind.
He crouches down next to your chair, his arm leans on the arm rest as he tries to catch your gaze. He mumbles your name, waiting for you to face him.
You don’t look over right away. But the silence makes your skin itch uncomfortably, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face. Slowly you take your hands from your face, letting them fall into your lap as you turn your gaze to look at Ryland.
He looks good today.
Wait, what?
You hear him say your name, and you snap back. Tearing your gaze away from his for a split moment to make it seem like you weren’t staring. You didn’t hear what he said.
When you don’t respond, his brows furrow, his slight worry turning into something bigger. The hand that isn't holding the arm chair comes up to rest on your knee, you notice he hesitates a short second before doing so. It's only a slight moment, why did you even notice that?
“You can talk to me, you know? Whatever is going on we can work it out together-”
You cut him off, trying to reassure him that nothing is going on. “No no, nothing bad is going on. I’m just having a bad day, and I snapped. I'm sorry”
“I forgave you before it even happened.”
“That’s stupid, that's not how it works.”
He laughs, you don’t think you said anything funny. But, his laugh is nice to hear. You fiddle with one of the rings on your finger. He squeezes your knee before standing up, cringing slightly as he realises the position was not being nice to his back. Instead he leans against your desk, half sitting on it. His gaze travels over the work of your students.
“So, what has today done to you? Do I need to beat someone up?”
Now he made you laugh. On one hand you want to argue, no he won’t beat someone up. But you have known him for long enough to know that that man is full of surprises. Maybe not a physical beat up, but he for sure would have some creative insults to throw.
He's looking at you with a small, warm smile. His glasses folded into his hands as he fiddles almost absentmindedly with the frame. His hands are nice as well.
Okay, what is going on with you today?
you brush a hand over your forehead, trying to sneakily check if maybe you have a fever. That would explain why you feel… weird. Yeah. Weird. That's what this is.
You ignore it.
“Just, you know.” You wave your hand dismissively again. “minor inconvenience after minor inconvenience. If I were to list off every single one we would be here for a long time.”
“I can listen for a long time.” He says almost immediately, his tone soft. And you just know he means it. You feel your stomach flutter.
Oh, okay.
You're stupid. You're falling for your best friend and colleague. This is not great. This is- seriously? Like today couldn’t get anymore overwhelming. Curse you, Ryland.
You try to ignore the fact your face is heating up, the last thing you need today is for him to find out what emotions are popping up. You first need time to figure this out yourself, maybe then (probably not) he's allowed to find out. You pick up your grading pen, trying to pretend you're going back to work.
“It’s embarrassing. I’m just overwhelmed. I think I'd rather just go back to work and go home the moment I'm done.” The words that leave your mouth are strained, not as casual and cool as you were hoping to portray them.
The worst part is that you regret them immediately. You don’t want him to leave, especially not when he's looking at you with those eyes, like he wants to do nothing more than stay near you and let you vent about your day.
The feeling of regret becomes even worse when he doesn’t say anything. You can’t help but look back at him, only to notice his eyes are downcasted towards his own fiddling hands. He almost looks… disappointed? Hurt?
Great fucking going, look what you did. You’re on a roll today, aren’t you?
The words stumble out of your mouth before they even register in your brain. “Do you want to order take out and grade papers together?”
His eyes light up immediately, the earlier smile back on his face. “Deal. I will order for us- So you can focus on your work, yeah?”
He’s so considerate, you have to force the grin away from your face. "Deal. You know what I like, so, surprise me.”
“Oh, I'm not gambling on a day like this. Clearly the luck gods have it out for you, I'm ordering your usual." He walks out of the classroom with more glee than you would have expected, he almost stumbles over the crushed up carl poster now laying on the ground.
He doesn’t close the door behind him in his rush.
Once you're sure you're fully alone, your head falls on your desk. You wince, your hand coming up to rub your forehead. That hurts.
No matter how hard you try, the butterflies in your stomach don’t quiet down as you swallow in self pity.
Damn you, Ryland.