"It was the soup," he frowns and pours a cuppa tea.

I note that he adds a packet of sugar to the strong brew and sips slowly, as if to savor the sweetness. I want to lick his lips but then again I just threw up and I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate that.

I scrubbed my teeth and brushed so abrasively my gums starting bleeding. He told me it wasn't a big deal but I cringe at just the thought of it, that wretched bile and the stench it placed in my nostrils.

"I'm going to shower. Uh...make yourself comfortable. That sounded wrong but whatever."

"No it didn't," he laughs lightly. "Don't make this awkward Styles."

"Are we not on a first name basis?"

"I dunno, maybe." He smirks, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip and I swear to God he's trying to kill me. This is slow torture. Agonizingly slow, like watching paint drip.

"Not like I care," I quickly add.

Oh but you do. You care so much it hurts. I'm not okay. Of course I won't tell anybody.

it isn't like

they don't ask

if i'm okay

because they do

they just don't

really care

"Harry, are you alright?"

I pick up on two subtle things.

1) the actual genuine concern in his voice

2) that he quite obviously called me by my first name

"Never been better," I drone.

"Sarcasm is my thing."

"Really? Did you invent it smartass?"

He rolls his eyes but there's a keen softness behind it, something I've grown quite fond of.

"Take a shower already. You stink." He pinches his nose between his forefinger and thumb and I want to snatch it back and kiss the tip.

The warm water cascades down my back. I lather the shampoo in my curls, watching bubbles form and pop in mid-air.

When I get out my ringlets are drenched and droplets glide down my bare chest. I mutter a string of curse words for not putting a change of clothes in the bathroom. I knot the towel around my waist and peep out the bathroom.

He nearly chokes on his tea at the sight of me and a pink tint fans across my cheeks. "I thought I could make it to my room without running into you."

"Hey, it's fine."

Pretend you're not naked Harry. Just grip onto the towel for dear life.

Water drips from my hair onto the floor but I'm paralyzed as his eyes take me in.

"You can take a picture," I tease gently. "It'll last longer."

"Harry, I-" he bites his lip bashfully and for a moment in time he isn't just my English teacher. He's someone I could spend hours talking to and sharing secrets with.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that. Just kidding," I swallow thickly.

"He was the most beautiful person I had ever seen but now he pales in comparison."

I'm not exactly following but then his hand caresses my cheek and it doesn't matter. He could say anything.

my body is like

a well oiled machine

made of moving parts

my foot

presses the brakes

but i'm in

full throttle

i am nothing

but metal

and choose not to feel

then when you

crash into me

i can't flip

off the switch

"You're so unbelievably beautiful," he exhales, his thumbs swiping across my jaw. "It's such a curse."

"W-what?"

"I shouldn't have these feelings for a student."

A student. I'm nothing but one of his students.

"Take care of yourself, yeah? I have some papers to read over."

"Please," I beg.

He turns back around, his eyes briefly meeting mine.

"Just tell me you don't feel it too. Tell me there's nothing between us and I'll walk away. I promise you that much."

"It doesn't matter if there was something or not because I'm ending it here. Harry, you're a really good kid-"

Kid. A fucking kid. Can't risk losing my job. Too soon. Need time. Unsure of my feelings.

But it isn't him.

It's me.

I'm the problem. I'm the one that let myself sink so far. I knew this was a mistake. Why do I hate my heart? Why do I like the hurt?

"I understand. I wouldn't want to ruin anything for you, forget I even said anything. Just forget it. Forget about all of this."

"Harry," he says sternly.

"Don't treat me like a child. You know where the fucking door is."

I can't find the courage to look up as he leaves. It doesn't matter if he turned around or not.

He's fleeting. A single tear slips down my face.

So damn stupid.

I let out an agitated groan as I tug on my hair and then it all just boils up. I scream.

Scream until I'm convinced my lungs have been forcibly ripped from my throat and my breaths are ragged. Until I'm fucking heaving. Everything hurts.

My head is hammering. My body is aching.

my

heart

is

s

h

a

t

t

e

r

i

n

g

Fracturing into a million pieces and I keep stepping on the fragments, shredding the bottom of my feet until they're dipped in crimson.

I've been wrecked.

I've been four pints dizzy and smoking a joint until my brain is fuzzy dazed but I have never been this wrecked.

I look up into the mirror and firmly believe this is what devastation looks like. Red, tear brimmed eyes and raw lips.

...

When Monday rolls around I skip English class.

Liam says he didn't ask about me but something was clearly bothering him and he said fuck three times.

If I didn't hate him I'd laugh at the image of him sputtering out curse words in class.

But I do hate him.

"So are you just gonna fail?"

"I don't know Liam, but I am not going back to that class. No way in hell."

"Did we miss something," Louis probes.

"Doesn't fucking matter. I signed up for an online equivalent."

Liam knits his brows together, his mouth falling agape.

"You what?"

"That way I can still get credit for the course."

"Harry," Liam gestures over towards Sam who gives a small smile and flicks her hair over her shoulder. "Don't tell me things are back on. She flat out admitted to cheating on you."

"People make mistakes."

"This is total bullshit," Lou shouts. "You're not taking that whore back."

"Lou," I scold gently.

"How do you even know she's clean?"

"Screw this."

"Screw her," Liam chuckles.

"No, she already screwed everyone," Niall finishes.

...

It isn't like I planned on having sex in the janitors closet.

Her hand slides down her chest before cupping her wet sex. It runs down to her slit and she slides it in, her mouth falling open.

Her eyes close and she moans, her free hand rubbing small circles around her clit. She bites her bottom lip as her hand picks up speed but I knock it away.

"You aren't coming without me," I growl.

I grab a fistful of her hair, pulling her lips towards mine.

They crash together and I pretend they mold together.

I pretend to feel something.

But there's nothing.

Nothing.

n

o

t

h

i

n

g.

Thoughts of him swirl in my mind and his tender

t

e

n

d

e

r

touch.

So I moan against her lips, my member throbbing.

My pulse quickens and I feel so giddy.

You're so unbelievably beautiful.

I grow extremely hard and her body presses against mine. I'm fucking panting as my hands massage her breasts.

I am aching, craving contact.

Not with Sam. Not next to a mop and an empty bucket.

My tongue swirls around her hardened bud and licks down her torso before stopping at her soaking entrance.

She's too pale.

I want olive skin and golden eyes. I want soft coal black hair and jokes about Shakespeare. I want a timid smile that makes me weak. I want to see his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.

your gentle hands

roam my body

movement

rhythm

poetry

as you find

my bundle

of nerves

and memorize

my skin

feeling

your moist tongue

and the hot

hot heat

of your mouth

etching my body

with metaphors

of your love

My tongue lays flat against her and she rocks her hips against my mouth. It curls at is slips between her pink folds and laps at her clit.

So good. So good. So good.

Her muscles tighten and she grips at my hair, her legs clenching as she comes.

I lick up her juices and steady her trembling thighs.

She hastily throws her clothes back on and I make an effort to hide my hard-on.

I'll let her believe she did this to me.

She giggles and slips her hand into mine in the hallway. Her head droops to my shoulder and I whisper huskily in her ear.

My eyes don't miss the figure on the opposite side of the hall.

My heart still dances.

His eyes search mine so I kiss Sam.

With so much passion and so much force it shakes me to my core. She moans into my mouth as her back collides with the cold lockers, her hands fisting in my curls.

When I pull away he's nowhere in sight.

I should feel relieved.

But all I feel is a pang of sadness and a twinge of regret as the image of him stabs my heart

over and over and over and over