See Me After Class

back & forth

imagine the green bean joking around about being hip with his students then making himself laugh because he's lame af and he knows it

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he avoided eye contact with me as my paper was placed face down in front of me. ten thousand different thoughts began to register in my mind, trying to figure why he acted so oddly as he gave back the list. i looked around the room and found that everyone was busy complaining about how many different essays and exercises went along with their choices.

curious, i flipped over my sheet to find a packet like everyone else's. but, what caught my eye wasn't the bulleted homework assignments. stuck to the top left corner was a bright pink sticky note that read in a neat, all-caps script:

SEE ME AFTER CLASS

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when the bell finally erupted into a trio of pings, everyone rushed out of the room. i was left standing next to my desk, debating what to say to my teacher who was bent over the newly decreased amount of books. his brow was furrowed as he took an inventory of what was left; his concentration unbreakable.

i cleared my throat, catching his attention. "you wanted to see me?" i inquired in a timid voice.

"yes," he said in a barely audible tone. "would you mind helping me move these over to that shelf and sorting them?"

silently, i relocated the heavy stacks to the spot that he had pointed out. the curly haired boy continued to write things down on the margins of a spreadsheet that was most likely a list of who took what books from him. my thumbnail was being reduced to nothing as i chewed on it, waiting for him to speak.

when nothing came from him, i asked, "was that all you needed?"

as if he had forgotten that i was in the room, his eyes grew wide as he blurted, "i am so sorry! i completely forgot-- oh wesley, i really am-- i'm sorry. please, sit."

he dropped everything that he had been doing and pulled a seat over from the computers. straddling it, mr. styles sat on the chair backwards, suddenly giving me his full attention.

"so..." i murmured, not sure what to say.

"right! i asked you here," he blurted as he stood and began to dig through his bag. when he found what he was looking for, he sat down again, now with two worn looking paperbacks in his grasp. "here," he said as he placed the novels into my hands.

"what are--"

"they're books. well, okay, that was obvious. they're two of my favourite books, and i thought you might enjoy them. in the time of the butterflies is an incredible story about four sisters during a dictatorship period in the dominican republic. the count of monte cristo is a book about revenge, and it's one of the best ever written, in my opinion. and, you don't have to read them if you don't want to. i just thought you may enjoy them," he rambled on.

laughing lightly, i thanked him. "no, no. thank you... no one has ever recommended books for me before. it's usually the other way around."

i studied the faded and worn covers, trying to guess how many times he's thumbed through the pages. it felt as though i had priceless artifacts in my possession, and i was deeply afraid of ruining them. this was not a normal thing for him. i could tell that it was rare for him to hand over his prized possessions.

quietness fell upon us yet again, until mr. styles broke in saying, "you can give them back whenever. and i have more, if you'd like for me to give you more."

"i'd love that," i grinned.

"so, did you enjoy the concert the other week?"

the mentioning of that night stunned me, and the ability to speak escaped my mind. my lips were frozen shut. i had assumed that that night had become a taboo, yet here he was bringing it up during casual conversation.

snapping back into reality, i replied, "yes! it was incredible. i actually really liked running into you, because i was originally there alone."

"do none of your friends like the band?"

"uh, well, i don't have too many friends left...most of them went off to college," i explained. i felt pathetic.

instead of him pitying me or saying it was unfortunate he simply added, "well, then i'm glad we could be together for it."

"do you like any other bands a lot?" i prodded, not wanting the conversation to die just yet.

"oh, well like i said, i'm actually very hip. i don't think you'd know any of the bands that i listen to." he tried to keep a straight face as he spoke in a pretentious way, but suddenly burst into a wide grin and a fit of giggles.

"very funny," i chuckled, "but seriously."

"alright. i do like transviolet a bit. and aquilo is brilliant. a little george ezra is good as well," he listed.

"okay, i approve. maybe you are a teeny bit cool. but only a teeny bit"

"and i will die with that secret. i've got to keep up my reputation of lame young man who tells terrible jokes. now, i really shouldn't keep you from class any longer."

interjecting, i said, "i actually don't have a class; remember? it's just early release, so you're only keeping me from studying. and this early in the year there's almost nothing to study for."

he thought for a second then replied, "right right...well, as you know, i have planning this period, so feel free to stop by anytime you could. help an old man grade some papers, or sort books."

"alright, yeah. i just might take you up on that offer. now, i should probably get going. goodbye mr. styles! have a good weekend," i concluded as i made my way out into the hallway.

"you too, wesley," he whispered in an almost inaudible voice.

the conversation was brief, but the excitement of a simple back and forth conversation with him was overwhelming. it had seemed somewhat sad to me that my only friend was a faculty member at my school, but i didn't care. his company was something i craved, and whatever time that was spent with him was precious. i looked down at the books that i was carrying, excited to crack into them.

i wish that i had known that things couldn't be like that forever.

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a/n 

it's early. it's the same length i keep doing. oops.

much love to all who are taking the time to read this!

xx. ashton