Renaissance (Cillian Murphy x Reader)

Part 1

You walked through the crowded hallways of your university at a fast pace. The building was old and the stone walls always made you feel like you belonged to a different century. It was quite sad to think that it was going to be your last year.

By the time you got to the classroom, it was filled with other students who were already chatting and talking about the summer holidays. The only empty spots were in the first and second rows since nobody wanted to be too close to the teacher. Sighing, you walked to one of the seats on the second row, the one next to the window. The teacher wasn't there yet so you let yourself get lost looking at a pigeon.

You were so distracted that you didn't even notice when the rest of the students took a seat and started to calm down until you heard a deep voice. It made you look forward to the teacher's desk, where a man was leaning. His forearms were visible under the rolled up sleeves of his shirt.

He was very pale, even more than you and his hair was quite long, with a few gray strands. He might be in his middle fourties but you weren't sure, guessing other people's age had never been one of your strengths. He remained leaning on the desk while looking around the classroom.

"My name is Mr. Murphy and I will be your Renaissance Art teacher this year" his gaze jumped from one student to the next but he seemed to glance at you for longer. He cleared his throat before continuing. "As you might be aware, for most of you this is your last year so you would have to do a research project. My research line is the Renaissance, it's art but also other aspects related to the period so if some of you are interested, I can tutor a maximum of four students".

He continued with the lecture, causing some people to complain in low voice that other teachers don't start with the lectures on the first day. You could only listen to his voice and try to take a few notes. He had the kind of voice that one could hear for hours and never get bored of it, even if he were talking about things that happened centuries ago.

Thirty minutes later, he stopped talking. Mr. Murphy pointed a finger at a couple of girls sitting at the back of the class.

"If you are not interested there is a coffee shop on this street." The girls were slightly startled but after a few minutes they were chatting quietly again. "Very well, both of you. Out. Now."

"We are not even talking loud" said one of them, receiving a slap in the arm from her friend.

"I assume that all of you are adults that are here on your own will, so whoever is not interested can leave, no problem, but please stop interrupting the lecture."

Both girls picked up their things and left under Mr. Murphy's cold stare. He looked down at his notes, as if trying to see where he had to resume his speech. After clearing his throat, he carried on with the lecture.

Nobody dared interrupt him again, and an hour later everyone collected their things and left in small groups. You took your time, always keeping an eye on Mr. Murphy to make sure that he remained seated at his desk. You approached him, stopping a few steps away.

"Good day, Mr. Murphy." you said, noticing that he wouldn't have heard your voice if you weren't so close. Then he looked at you with the bluest eyes that you had ever seen in your short life. He removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose before turning to you again with a small smile.

"Yes? Do you need something?"

From that distance you could see all the little freckles distributed all over his face and the unreal cheekbones. A thought came across your mind, he reminded you of some mythological god painted by the great masters.

"I'd like you to tutor me on the final project."

He nodded. "Have you thought of something in particular or do you prefer me to give you a topic?"

"Well, I'm interested in the role of women in the art world during the Renaissance, perhaps as art patrons or collectors." You said, playing with a loose thread from your sleeve. He smiled again, this time little creases formed at the corner of his eyes. It caused you to blush.

"Sounds good," he said "the feminist approach will be very well received by the court that evaluates the research projects."

"Oh, okay then. Thank you Mr. Murphy." You rushed out of the class as you felt your face getting more red and warmer. You were at the door when he said your name out loud. Turning around slowly you faced him again. "Yes, Mr. Murphy?"

He was holding several pieces of paper with what you could tell was the list of names of the students taking part of the module, along with a horrible picture of each one. You cursed internally reminding the day your picture was taken on your first day at university.

"Don't forget to apply on the virtual classroom, and there's no need to call me Mr. Murphy. If we're going to be working together on that research project this whole year, you better call me Cillian."

You could just nod. That night in your room you connected to the virtual classroom to enroll in the research line. A few minutes later, a new message appeared in your university email inbox. You clicked on it, your heart was pounding when you read the name of the person sending it.

Dear y/n,

I've received your application. It won't be formalized for a week or two at the most but we could start working on it sooner if you are available.

My tutoring hours are Tuesdays at 11 a.m. and Thursdays at 18 p.m.

Let me know which one suits you better.

Regards, C.