The Story of a Man, A Woman, and the Corpses of 1000 Evil Students

Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. My boots were scuffing the pavement as I willed my body to get to class on time. The throbbing in my head echoed with each step I took, but every one brought me closer to the lecture hall. Normally I would be self conscious about my very obviously hung over appearance, but I pushed my sunglasses up my nose and kept going. I was too exhausted to care.

I fished around in my jacket pocket for my pack of Camel’s and stuffed one in between my lips before lighting it. I still had to cross campus, so I had time for a smoke. I inhaled, feeling the cool menthol smoke pool in my lungs. I snorted it out of my nose in a rush, letting out a small cough.

Someone else seemed to be walking towards the same building I was. I saw them in the corner of my eye, dressed all in black and taking large strides. I glanced at them quickly.
He was dressed smartly and had a peculiar bounce in his step for such an early hour. He had black dress pants, a black button up, a black waistcoat, and a black peacoat to top it all off. He must have caught me looking at him because he cut over to me, making me halt when he stopped in front of me.
“You can’t smoke on campus,” he said flatly. I blinked behind my sunglasses, slightly disappointed he couldn’t see me rolling my eyes.
“Nobody gives a shit,” I muttered, pursing my lips. “It’s too early for this, leave me alone.” I stepped around him, shoving my hands back in their pockets. I was freezing.
“Give me one,” he said from behind me. I stopped, looking at him over my shoulder. The sun was starting to break through the clouds, right behind his head, and it killed my eyes. I didn’t feel up to arguing with him and kept walking. “Give me one, and I won’t report you.”
Now that got on my nerves.
“What are you, three? You going to tell on me to the teacher?” I sneered.
“Just might. They’re slapping people with smoking fines. But I know where you don’t get caught.” He slid his sunglasses down his nose, looking at me expectantly. I begrudgingly held my pack out to him. “Follow me,” he said, his heels clicking on the pavement.
“I have to get to class. Have a nice day, jackoff.” I made a beeline for my classroom, not caring to see his reaction. My cigarette had since gone out and I flicked it into a nearby planter before sneaking in the back door to the lecture hall. I rubbed my eyes under my glasses; it was going to be a long day.
I met up with my friend Jessica in the break we had between classes. We both had graphic design together next, and were stereotypically lying on the grass on one of the hills on campus.
“It’s only the third week of classes and I already feel like dying,” Jessica said, lazily flicking through her phone. “Only one more year til graduation, and boy, let me tell you, I am so fucking ready.”
“Me too. I’m ready to get a degree in a field that I’m never going to be able to find a job in because I’m shit. I’m shit at design, Jessica.” I said, staring up at the clouds.
“No you’re not, Charlotte. Hell, you’re better than me. And you know it,” she said, rising to her feet. She held a hand down to me, “come on. We have art next.” I took her hand and stretched, shaking the grass out of my short hair. I still wasn’t used to my new schedule, so I wasn’t all too sure where the classes were. I just walked in the general direction of the art building, Jessica guiding me to the right classroom. We took our usual seats at the back, but my heart froze when I looked to the teacher’s desk after getting my sketchbook from my backpack.
“Do you know where Hawthorn is?” I hissed to Jessica, who was regarding our substitute with hooded eyes.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” she purred. Hawthorn was our beloved androgynous graphic arts professor, and her disappearance caused me stress. She had taught me almost all of the years I had been at this university.
“Don’t open your legs yet, Jessica. This guy is an asshole. Threatened to report me for smoking on campus this morning then told me to bum him a cigarette,” I whispered to her. She shrugged.
“Hey, you need to stop smoking. He should have reported you,” she grunted.
“I do it for the motion of smoking, not the nicotine addiction. I can stop smoking anytime I want!” I said, my voice rising despite my caution at this new sub.
“Do it. Give me your cigarettes,” she held her hand out flatly, not even looking at me. When I didn’t put them in her hand, she glanced at me. “That’s what I thought, Charlie.” I sunk down in my seat after that, glaring at anybody who tried to talk to me. I kept my sketchbook shut, along with my lips. I sunk even lower in my seat when the new teacher stood up. He had shed his jacket and had rolled up his sleeves, revealing creamy toned arms beneath. Inwardly, I rolled my eyes at my fascination with his pixie like appearance. The jet black hair was a nice cherry on top.
“Welcome, everybody. I’ll get it out of the way, Professor Hawthorn has fallen ill and won’t be back for quite some time. In the meantime, I’m taking over her curriculum and am here to show you all how to get really, really good at algebra.” He stood at his desk, arms crossed. He got a few chuckles from the crowd. “Good. I’m Professor Way, or you can call me Gerard, I do not entirely care,” he drew his words out as he surveyed the class, “it seems pretty formal to call me professor seeing as half of you look the same age as me.”
Some jackass in the middle rows decided to call out a question. “If I’m older than you then why should you be my teacher?”
“Well, sir, it looks like I’m smarter than you, otherwise we wouldn’t be in this mess, would we?” Gerard flashed a quick grimace before opening his laptop. “Today, we’re going to talk about the dangers of smoking and why you should quit.”

That class was a nightmare. Everytime he opened his mouth to say something, I half expected some shitty call out or ridicule on my behalf. But it didn’t happen. Instead, he passive aggressively showed me just how much of an asshole he was. Needless to say, I was somewhat grateful because some of the kids in those class, and I do mean kids, needed to have their ass handed to them by the Professor of Sass.
Jessica ran off because she had some sort of meeting, so I was left to clean up my workstation by myself. I hurried, not wanting to be the last person left in the classroom, but by the time I was done, I looked up and realized Gerard had already left. I breathed a sigh of relief and was filling my head with thoughts of lunch when I left.
I began to think that maybe I actually should quit smoking. Not only would it cut down probably in half the amount of strangers and homeless people asking me for free cigarettes, I wouldn’t run the risk of having to cut a hole in my neck when I was old and in a nursing home. I shuddered at the mental image. Not that I thought I would live that long anyway. Looking out at the courtyard in front of the food hall, I realized it was only a matter of time before I snapped and filled my bathtub up with the blood from my wrists.
As I was locked in my suicidal daydream, thinking of all the things I couldn’t wait to leave behind in this world when I finally got the guts to kill myself, someone began tapping my shoulder. I spun around, feeling oddly embarrassed at the fact that I was in a fantasy world where everything was dead.
Suddenly, though I didn’t think it possible, I wished I was even more dead.
“What?” I snapped at him, looking up into his hazel eyes. His sparkling, ebony rimmed eyes. Snap out of it, Charlotte!
“Pleasant, aren’t you?” Gerard quipped, before sighing. “Thank you for the cigarette this morning.”
“Sure you’re not going to report me?” I half smirked. Shit, was I flirting?
“Not unless I catch you again,” he said, cocking one eyebrow.
“Unlikely to happen, ‘cuz that was my last one and my friend wants me to quit.” I shrugged, trying to get my bag strap further up on my arm. He regarded me coolly before putting a cigarette in between his own lips.
“What a drag.”
He stared down at me for a while before I finally had to ask, “Well, are you going to light that?”
“Not here, because I’m a respectable professor that doesn’t smoke in no-smoke zones,” he turned on his heel and was about to walk away, but he glanced over his shoulder at me, slowly dangling another cigarette from his fingertips in my direction. My eyes widened. Jessica wouldn’t care if I had one.
I trotted after him, stuffing my hands into my pockets. He had whipped the cigarette out of my reach and started walking to the side of campus where we had some unsightly portable buildings. There was an alcove in between those and the parking structure, surrounding on one side by a cement wall and the other with a chain link fence. Gerard leaned up against the wall, finally lighting his cigarette. He held the other one out to me.
“Do you want it?” He said, his words muffled by his cigarette.
“Sure.” I held out my hand, but he didn’t drop the cigarette in it. Instead, he strode over to me, took the cigarette out from between his lips, and slowly pushed it in between mine. I froze, feeling the slightly wet filter in between my lips. I tasted a hint of cherry chapstick and smirked.
“Thanks.” I muttered, not entirely sure how to react. But my insides were kind of...a little bit...on fire. Or something like that.
“Don’t mention it,” he said, putting another in between his lips before leaning in to use the cherry on mine to light his own. Oh no. I leaned against the wall.
“So how old are you? Are you really qualified to be teaching at a college level and hitting on girls that just turned twenty-one?” I said.
“It could be worse, you could have said you just turned eighteen,” he said, blowing a cloud of smoke above my head. “And I’m not hitting on you,” he added flatly.
“Good. Because if you were, that would be breaking some rule somewhere,” I muttered.
“Quite the contrary, that’s usually only a problem when you teach high school. We’re adults now,” he trailed off. “What’s your name?”
“Charlotte. I would ask yours but you made it apparent in class today. How long are you going to be teaching my class?”
“Why? Hate me already?” He rolled his cigarette between his fingers thoughtfully, glaring up at me over it.
“Yep, have to say that I do.”

Notes

This is a work in progress and my first fic I've ever posted, so let me know if you like it and I'll add more chapters! :)