my professor, my obsession || cillian murphy

chapter ten

   I felt relief wash over me as soon as I laid eyes on him. All five boys redirected their attention from me to Professor Murphy.

"Who the hell is this?" one of them chuckled.

Another bluntly stated, "This is a private party, man, get out of here."

Professor Murphy focused solely on me. Without hesitation, he hurried over, separating me from the group. With a gentle touch, he helped me, and his warmth engulfing me. Wrapping his left arm around my waist, he lifted me from the ground, my weakened state preventing me from standing on my own.

"I strongly suggest you boys leave," he commanded with a tone that carried an unusual blend of sharp fury and eerie calmness, surpassing any tone I had heard from him before. It unsettled me, yet also provided a sense of safety. "Now."

Their laughter dismissed his words as if it were a joke. "What are you gonna do about it?" one of them slurred, laughter accompanying his intoxicated state.

Professor Murphy, maintaining his composure, whispered to me, "Let's go, Clementine," as he tightened his hold around my waist.

As we made our way to his car, a plethora of crude comments echoed from behind, with someone exclaiming, "She was here all alone! She's fucking asking to be messed with!"

Despite the hurtful words, he reassured me in a hushed tone, "Just ignore them." Gentle hands guided me into the passenger's seat, and as the door closed, a wave of safety and warmth enveloped me. Despite the unsettling echoes of the recent events replaying in my mind, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming mix of relief and nerves, wondering what might have happened if Professor Murphy hadn't coincidentally intervened.

Rather than immediately driving off, Professor Murphy retraced his steps towards the group of boys, catching them and myself off guard. Unpredictably, he swiftly punched the tallest one, the ringleader, and sent him crashing to the ground. A tense silence hung in the air as Professor Murphy loomed over him. A strong feeling surged inside me that he could potentially be beaten up by their group, so I braced myself, but to my surprise, they hesitated, stumbling in their drunken confusion. As a final gesture of hatred, Professor Murphy spat on the boys shaking figure.

"You're pathetic," his voice snapped at the boy in pain on the ground. "All of you," he added. With a determined silence, he made his way back to the car, swiftly climbing in before speeding away. The farther I got away from that group of boys on the street, the more comfort and warmth I was starting to feel.

"Clementine, what happened?" He asked, "Did they touch you?" In the grip of shock, I struggled to find my voice; the words lingered, trapped in my throat.

My gaze remained fixed on some distant point, still trying to process everything. The weight of his question hung heavy in the air, and my throat felt like a battleground between unspoken words and the fear that held them back.

After a moment, I managed to shake my head, but I was still uncertain. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, and a silent understanding passed between us.

"I thought they were gonna jump me," I added, swallowing hard. "It was..." I still couldn't speak correctly. All I knew was that it was horrifying.

He drew in a deep breath, his nod carrying a mixture of understanding and concern. "Just try to relax," he urged, placing a reassuring hand on my knee. The unexpected touch left me intrigued and comforted, a fresh surge of adrenaline rushing through me.

As my heart raced from a different kind of intensity, he promised, "I'll get you home."

I sniffled before nodding gratefully. "Thank you," I managed, my voice cracking with the strain of holding back tears. The unspoken words lingered on my lips, aching to be expressed.

Sensing my struggle, he withdrew his hand, leaving my knee colder than before. Suddenly, he pulled over, setting off a wave of nervous anticipation. The car came to a stop, and he turned towards me. My eyes, still wide with shock, were red and puffy. I was trying my hardest to hold back the surge of tears waiting to escape me. "It's okay, Clementine," he spoke softly. "You can cry."

My trembling lip nodded, and unexpectedly, tears streamed down my cheeks. In that fragile moment, he pulled me in a comforting embrace. Nestling into the warmth of his arms, I closed my eyes, and silent sobs replaced my tears as he held me tighter, offering a sense of security.

"You're shaking," he whispered, then gently let go. "Please," he removed his brown leather jacket, its interior radiating warmth. "Wear this." I accepted it with gratitude, offering a soft smile and nod. I put on the jacket and hugged myself, warding off the chill. "Okay," he restarted the car, "let's get you back."

The prospect of returning to my depressing, dark, and messy dorm room was disheartening. It was too lonely in there, and I needed the comfort that only he could provide. However, I would truly never be able to admit that to his face. The drive remained silent, tension palpable as unspoken words lingered in the air.

As we neared the dorms, I felt a growing sense of dread. His attempt to break the silence surfaced with a question, "Do you know if your roommate is there?"

I shook my head. "I don't have one. She left after the first week to live at Delta Gamma."

"You live all alone?" He questioned, now pulling into the parking lot.

"Yeah..."

He pulled into the first spot available. "Clementine, I really don't feel comfortable leaving you alone after what happened," he told me, "is there anyone else you can stay with? A friend, maybe?"

I looked down shamefully, shaking my head again. "I don't have friends..." I admitted. "It's embarrassing, but I just...don't."

After a brief silence, he ignited the car engine once more. "I'll take you back to my place, and we'll get you warm," he reassured me, "and we'll figure it out from there, okay?"

A wave of emotions swept over me at his words. The realization that I was about to be taken to his house felt almost surreal, like an unbelievable turn of events.

"Y-Yeah, okay!" I replied, my eagerness perhaps a bit too evident. "Thank you so much, Professor Murphy," I expressed my gratitude to him while I wiped off the rest of my tears.

A gentle smile adorned his face as he continued driving. "You can call me Cillian, Clementine. Formalities don't matter right now."

A mix of excitement and curiosity coursed through me; he was granting me the privilege of using his first name, a distinction reserved only for me. The realization of how special I was in that moment made my heart practically leap out of my chest. Gripping the sides of the passenger seat, I nodded enthusiastically once again.

"Thank you, Cillian."