my professor, my obsession || cillian murphy

XTRA!

Heyyy so I prob won't be able to update for a little bit because I have a lot going on at school and over spring break I'm working 5 days a week, so here's a little Cillian POV I wrote when I first starting writing this story back in January
( Can you believe it's been that long already?! )

This is basically his POV the first time they meet. It's really underwhelming but I thought I'd share it in the meantime while y'all are waiting for chapter 34!

If you'd like to read some other Cillian POVs, I have a few written on google docs already, just never used them. They're not as short as this one since this was only the prologue which was only a few hundred words. So let me know!!

Here ya go!

***

I awoke feeling disoriented and foggy, the remnants of the previous night lingering in my mind. My eyes struggled to focus on the clock, realizing with a jolt that it was almost 8:30, much later than my usual wake-up time. Panic briefly gripped me as I realized I had forgotten to complete important paperwork due this morning. However, I quickly composed myself, knowing I couldn't afford to be late for my first-ever class. With a deep breath, I resolved to maintain a professional demeanor, recognizing the importance of today's agenda.

I carefully selected my work attire, opting for a professional ensemble. Despite my previous job as a high school teacher, where I often made an effort to dress, I noticed an existing trend among my colleagues to adopt a more casual approach, nearly as casual as the students, which left me shocked.

With a subtle shake of my head, I adorned myself in black slacks paired with a coordinated sweater and tie, adding a touch of formality with a tailored blazer. As I finished lacing up my shoes, I glanced once more at the clock, mindful of the time slipping away.

As the clock mercilessly struck 8:40, I knew I had to make a move. Disregarding the speed limit, I pushed the pedal down, determined to arrive on time. Each passing minute felt like a relentless countdown, and as I finally pulled into the school parking lot, only five precious minutes remained.

"Ah, fuck," I muttered under my breath, hastily grabbing my briefcase and phone before darting out of the car and into the school building, urgency propelling my steps.

I struggled to maintain control over my unruly hair, repeatedly running my fingers through it to tame it from the wind. Maintaining a professional appearance was very important to me, especially now teaching at a university rather than the more relaxed atmosphere of high school.

Navigating the bustling hallways, I sensed the curious gazes of passing students hurrying to their 9 a.m. classes. With determination, I focused my attention straight ahead, unaffected by their scrutiny. While I couldn't quite comprehend their interest, I remained steadfast in my purpose.

With a steadying breath, I finally made it into the lecture hall exactly one minute behind schedule. As I found my desk, I made a final attempt to tame my hair, running my fingers through it one last time before settling my things down.

Scanning the room, I noticed two things. Firstly, the class appeared smaller than I had envisioned, a realization that initially seemed underwhelming but gradually grew into a source of comfort. Secondly, my gaze was drawn to a lone student seated at a distance from the rest of the class. She stuck out like a soar thumb. Though I didn't meet her gaze directly, I caught a glimpse of her in my peripheral as I entered the room and arranged my things. Already, I sensed the need to encourage her to sit closer to the front, suspecting she might be one of those reserved students who don't participate unless forced to.

Putting aside my concern about the lone student for the time being, I redirected my focus to address the matter at hand. "My apologies for being late," I offered, even though my tardiness amounted to no more than a minute, it still left a nagging sense of unprofessionalism lingering in the air. "I'm Cillian, but to all of you, I am Professor Murphy," I declared, hoping to establish a sense of authority.

As I picked up the attendance sheet, my fingers tracing the neat rows of names, I effortlessly recited the names with ease. Each name rolled off my tongue smoothly, maintaining the rhythm of the routine. Yet, amidst all the names, one entry stood out, captivating my attention. Its beauty and sophistication piqued my curiosity. Almost certainly French, it added an intriguing layer to it.

"Clementine Érasme," I announced, attempting to pronounce the name with what I presumed was the correct way.

"Here," came the soft reply. My gaze instinctively followed the sound, leading me to the back corner where the girl was seated. A fleeting moment of tension stiffened my body as my eyes met hers. A reaction I knew wasn't appropriate for me to have looking at one of my students.

Glancing down at the paper momentarily to regain my composure, I returned my gaze to her. "French?" I asked, my voice tinged with genuine interest.

"Yeah," she confirmed, her tone clearer now, with a touch of delight. It captivated my attention. Even from the dim-litted corner where she was sitting, her eyes gleamed with a subtle allure, their radiance drawing me in. I noticed the slight parting of her lips, a sign of nervousness that mirrored my own unease. Strangely, I liked how nervous she was. I liked it a little too much.

I nodded subtly and carried on, but she remained in the back of my mind for the rest of class.