Chapter 2

(4) Masego + FKJ - Tadow - YouTube

There is nothing society hates more than these things in an early morning: alarms, Mondays and happy morning people who turn into a second alarm.

If we could be honest, the first day of school always feels like the beginning of the new year.

After the way too short and rainless summer vacations, where school didn't even cross your mind between palm trees, gritty sand with sweet cocktails, you stood in front of the Gothic grey building and looked up into the sky. You could tell right away from the first glance that this was a prestigious Catholic school. Or as the others used to call it "the old nuns' shelter."

The black spires made the constructions look more appealing, and the windows with the pointed arches let the sun fill the rooms with light. Especially in winter, when the days got longer and darker by at least four o'clock, the building looked abandoned and spooky.

The first thing your mind needed to stabilize your energy was nothing else than the taste of fresh coffee. The way through the flying buttress led you to Maz's small cafe, suited for members of the school. Every time you walked in was like entering for the first time a bakery that had baked fresh, tasty croissants and cinnamon rolls.

God, you loved that smell. It made you feel secure. Like you were in heaven.

Walking through the cafe was like strutting the catwalk. On the left and right side sat students around the blank tables with their uniforms and waiting for their friends to enter class together. Some others were laughing, gossiping, and hugging each other after being separated for eleven weeks.

With your morning resting bitch face, you looked like you had a sign hanging on you that warned, 'Do not touch or talk to me while I'm wearing my earphones.'

As you approached the line, you gazed from afar at the showcase filled with tasty pastries. You inhaled the smell of warm cinnamon rolls like they were melting on your tongue. With your music on the highest volume, you heard nothing that was happening around you.

While impatiently waiting for your turn, you fell into deep thoughts, imagining what new types of students were already sitting in your class.

Suddenly, you felt soft yet large fingers touching your right shoulder.

So much for that hanging sign.

With half-closed eyes, you turned around and spotted a big, firm man standing in front of you.

He was wearing a dark blue sweater with a blazer, and black jeans that were not too tight. It took you a moment to realize his head was sitting much higher on his shoulders. His wavy black hair covered his neck and shimmered in the bright light, bringing out the color of his blazer, as if he recently just came from the hair salon.

He was a stranger to this school, because never in your life have you seen such a masculine and striking face that fitted together so well. As if Picasso had brought him to life.

The man's hazel brown eyes reminded you of a beautiful forest in a chilly October, leaving goosebumps all over your back. His height was definitely above the average for men in Germany. And his full lips moved like he was trying to say something, yet the only thing you heard was the melody of the saxophone.

"I wonder how's the weather up there."

You quickly pulled your earphones off as they dropped onto the floor. When you bend down to pick them up, it hit you that the stupid sentence escaped your mouth. And he heard it. Fucking hell.

"Sorry that came out... never mind," you suppressed, scratching your neck in embarrassment. Hopefully, he would ignore your careless mistake to make it less awkward for you.

You could tell from his expression that he was not exactly the person who liked to smile at people. Or, in that case, to smile at all. He looked serious, with his giant eyes, as if you murdered his puppy. Not a single facial muscle moved, except his jaw tensed and his lips parted gently.

"The weather up here is fine. Thank you for asking," he responded flatly, with an incredibly dark voice that was automatically stored inside your brain. His face turned stoical, scanning you with his eyes from head to toe. "Are you wearing a hat indoors because you expect it to rain? I can assure you, there is no rain in sight."

What sounded lovely in the beginning quickly changed. His tone switched so fast that you nearly missed out on his sarcasm. You couldn't blame him, though. This question probably haunted him like a shadow since he was born.

"No, I wear a hat because I like it," you replied defensively.

With his iron expression, he lifted his head, eyes to the front. "Alright, little witch."

Your jaw dropped, and before you could say something, the line disintegrated. It was your turn to order your coffee. You let out a short, deep breath as you turned around and greeted the old lady ahead of you.

"Hi, Maz! It's nice to see you again. How was your summer?" you asked in a sweet voice. "Can I please have a large latte to go?"

Maz Kanata was a nearly retired baker with a heart of gold. Because of her small nose, all her glasses always seemed to slide off into the dough. To solve her struggles, she constructed her own unique pair of glasses that made her small eyes seem more spacious.

"Hello, my dear child. It was terrible," she complained, throwing her hands in the air. "Way too hot for my good. I nearly spent half of it listening to my loudmouth braggart neighbor, who wouldn't shut up about his perfect garden and his intelligent nephew. If only his nephew could share some of his intelligence with him."

Every member of the school enjoyed Maz's sweet pastries, which were always baked with pure love. Her golden heart belonged to the children that she cherished like a mother. She remembered almost all their names who greeted her in the morning and in the afternoon.

Before she turned her back to put the cup under the coffee machine, she hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a cup of hot chocolate and a cinnamon roll? Every morning you used to rush through the door, begging me to bake them when they ran out."

You could swear that you heard a dry and muted sigh from behind, followed by the sentence, "What a child."

You took a deep breath and ignored the stranger's comment. "I know, I know, time flies but that was a long time ago, so only the coffee, please." You smiled at her with a sad look. It reminded you of how you used to tell your grandmother that you're not hungry after she cooked you a whole three-course meal.

"Very well then." Maz scratched her forehead. "If you say ten months is a long time ago." Gently Maz avoided burning herself and handed the cup to you over the counter. "Here is your coffee. Be careful! The cup is hot."

Carefully, you took the cup, reached over to hand her the money, and wished her a nice day. As you turned around, the tall man left, and you were more than relieved. After that short and awkward conversation, you hoped not to cross his sight again. He probably loved his coffee, bitter and black.

You climbed the stairs and walked to the big entrance door that was shaped like a pointed arch. You glanced up and noticed how the stone statues of the Night sisters stared at you from high above.

People used to believe the Nightsisters, who had established the school in 1890, protected the school from bad omens. If one sister would ever fall, it would mean that unknown danger was on the way. Every candlelight in the school would have to be enlightened, and every window closed. Apparently, this would defend it from the evil spirits.

You were sure that nothing could top what just happened. But the universe had other plans in mind when you saw Finn from the other side of the entrance hall running towards you like a wild horse that has torn itself from the reins.

"Long time no see," he remarked in a quick breath.

"Can you imagine? We saw each other two days ago," you grinned with a sarcastic tone.

During the weekend, Finn had bought new brown boots that resembled Mr. Hux's black ones. As he hugged you tightly, you could smell his strong Bleu de Chanel cologne.

"How can you already be so grumpy on a Monday morning?" he asked, searching for his tie in the bag.

Our dearest Finn here was definitely a morning person.

"I already got the chance to embarrass myself in front of a tall guy. And the way he looked at me? The last time someone gave me this look was Mr. Hux, when I accidentally stepped on his black leather boots."

"That wasn't an accident. You stepped at Mr. Hux's expensive boots on purpose for giving you a bad mark in—"

"Does it matter?" you interrupted him, so he would stop reminding you of your miserable failure.

"Listen to me," Finn said, accepting having left his tie at home. He put his hand on your shoulders and stared with his brown eyes deep into your inner being. "As much as I love watching you embarrassing yourself in front of other people, you need to brush that off. I'm sure he already forgot about it."

A tiny smirk appeared on your lips as he finished his motivational speech. You reached for the tie that Finn had hanging around his neck and waved it in a triumph in front of his eyes. "You mean just like you forgot about this?"

Finn exhaled in a soothing laugh as he grabbed the tie. "Thanks. And I already thought about getting send off to the principal before I got to see the new students in class."

"Are you telling me you never thought about buying more ties and just keeping them in your locker?"

"I did... but" — he fixated his eyes on wrapping the wide end, in front, and above the neck loop — "I would probably forget my locker key."

You rolled your eyes and let out a muffled laugh. "Oh boy, I hope you didn't forget to put on your underwear."

Finn's eyes briefly widened in panic, ready to unzip his pants before you could stop him from doing it in front of the other students.

"I assume the thing that currently scratches my ass is the label from the underwear," he approved.

You mumbled to yourself. "If only I had worn my earphones."

He pulled tightly onto the knot and posed in a small twist with his hands in the air.

"Oh, how elegant you are, mon monsieur," you jested in a fake French accent.

Finn did a small curtsy and took a glance at his watch. "We gotta go! We're late for class."

The two of you quickly made your way to the classroom, which was unfortunately on the third floor. On the way, he complimented you about your hat and told you how he noticed some new girls in the schoolyard checking him out. It was hard to deny that although he was a lost soul with nothing but optimism in his mind; he was indeed a real eye-catcher.

"If there is one thing I have not missed about this school, then it's these god-damn stairs. It's like the highway to heaven. We really need to work out more. I'm already sweating."

You gripped onto the handrail. "Come on, Finn. More walking, less talking," you said with a heavy breath. "Only five steps left. The door to the classroom is still open."

When you finally reached the door of your classroom with shaky legs and sweat, as if you had run ten kilometers without taking a break, both of you burst out in a laugh of exhaustion. You leaned against the door and immediately almost choked on your laughter as you recognized the dark blue tint of clothes in front of the teacher's desk.

Your forehead wrinkles were visible, already feeling the need to get Botox. You pressed your lips together, and with your eyes broad open, you blinked rapidly in wonder.

The stranger you recently saw in the Cafe was now wearing glasses. He stood there holding a sheet of paper in his right hand while having the other stuck in his jeans pocket.

When he turned his face to you and Finn, he took the expression "if looks could kill" a bit too seriously. It was clear the man was about to kick you both out of class for being late.

There was only one sentence floating in your head, and this time you knew you would say it out loud.

"No, Finn, we are not in heaven. We are in hell."

Finn glanced at you, scratching the scalp of his jet-black hair. He didn't understand your remark while you observed the other students in front of you. The ones with the unfamiliar faces stood motionless, like statues next to their benches, and stared at you with enormous eyes as if you were some troublemakers who were always late on purpose.

When Headmaster Palpatine did his daily morning announcements on the loudspeaker, the classroom was dead silent, and all the students stood up to show respect. With his old voice, he greeted the new students and teachers and wished them a good start for the new year.

You remained to wait by the door out of respect until Headmaster Palpatine had finished his speech and his prayer. With pinched eyes, you looked around your new classroom with emotionless walls, searching for an empty seat far away from the teacher.

To your surprise, there were two seats left in the row next to the double lancet windows. Usually, students would fight over the window seats, yet they were empty. There was one seat in the third row at the back of the class next to a guy with short, wavy, ash brown hair, and the other seat was ahead in front of Rose in the first row, directly opposite the teachers' table. No wonder this one was empty. Who the hell wants to sit voluntarily in front of the teacher? Especially when the teacher looks like this.

"He kinda looks hot."

"Finn, no!" you whispered. "He's not hot, and he's way too old for you."

The elegant man breathed heavily and returned his gaze to the paper.

Something in your guts made you feel he could hear your blood pulsing and your heart racing from afar. You weren't sure if it was because of the stairs, or your embarrassment from before.

"Wait, what? No, I said he reminds me of God," Finn clarified. "You should clean your ears more often."

"Be quiet!" the teacher stated in a loud and strict tone, returning his gaze to you.

From a distance, you observed the teacher putting the paper on the desk and scratching his neck. Your mouth went dry. And suddenly, he stretched his right hand into the empty seat with his gaze fixed on you.

Without realizing it, Palpatine had already finished his speech, and Finn was no longer standing next to you. How did this went by so fast? Finn sat in the back row next to a handsome guy with a serious facial expression and crossed arms, which now only meant that you got the VIP ticket to sit in front of the teacher.

You gave Finn an icy stare as his lips formed a sentence that you interpreted as, "sorry."

"Traitor," you murmured.

"We are waiting for you, Miss [Y/Surname]," the teacher interrupted your thoughts. "You may take your seat now. Unless you would like me to move your desk to the door."

You glanced back at the teacher. Anywhere else would be better than sitting in front of him. You knew he wouldn't repeat himself. The fact he already knew your surname without even asking for it was not a good sign.

You nodded and walked to the seat in front of him, minimizing the eye contact with the class. You had no clue how long you had been standing there by the door all alone. Finn could have at least said something. A nudge on the arm would be fine as well, instead of leaving you behind in your daydreams.

You knew the teacher was still looking at you when you took off your hat and placed your coffee on your small table. You hastily reached for a pencil case and your notebook. The claim edge of your desk touched the dark wooden table from the teacher, making only a line separating you. From his angle, he could see everything you did without moving.

Your eyes darted down on your skirt. When you finally dared to look at the table, you caught the teacher's large hand throwing your coffee into the trash can.

"Drinking in my classroom is strictly forbidden," the teacher informed coolly. "Unless it's water."

Damn, he really must hate latte.

"Hold on, why did you do this?" you called out to the teacher.

"Do not speak unless spoken to," he mentioned in a strict tone, turning his back to you.

You ignored him. "You can't just do that! I paid for that drink, and I didn't even sip on it yet!"

You noticed your hands had clinched themselves into fists and the anger you felt was rising as you waited for him to face you.

When he finally turned around, his menacing eyes clashed against yours like the bang of a cannon blast. With his raised, curved brows and dilated nostrils, he walked back to his table and rested his elbows on the support of the chair. He stretched his back without once taking his eyes off you as if it were a staring contest. Through his glasses, you noticed a twitch in his left eye.

"Actually I can. And as well as I remember, you had enough time."

That was not how you expected to greet your first teacher in the first period.

"It looks like you have to ruin my morning just to make yours better," you snapped back.

The atmosphere in the room was tense. Every student held their breath and didn't dare to make a sound. Your heart began beating faster, wondering if you would get yourself a free pass to detention from the first day on.

You thought the teacher would kick you out of the class, if not immediately out of the window, or slap your face with his thick grey folder that was next to his black laptop. After all, he didn't expect of not having the last sentence.

With sharp eyes, your teacher stared down at you as he cocked an eyebrow and pursed his lips into a smirk. "You're so right," he replied smoothly.

Just like the other students, you looked at him, confused. It was not a tiny smirk but a distinct smirk, as if he had you right where he wanted you. He walked to the front of the blackboard, observing the other students who silently looked at him with fear in their eyes. He placed his hands on his hips and let a deep breath out.

"My name is Kylo Ren, and I am your new psychology teacher."