One Direction Teacher Imagines

Niall Part 3

"How was your weekend?" Mr. Horan asked. A chorus of answers sounded through the classroom and Mr. Horan grinned at us. "Wonderful. So last week we talked about Justin Bieber, right?" We all nodded. "I'll collect your lists of things that make Bieber famous now." he announced, beginning his walk around the room. He came over to (Y/F/N) and I. "Morning," he greeted us.

"Good morning Mr. Horan." (Y/F/N) said, smiling widely and handing him our paper. He smiled back.

"Morning," he replied. He then looked over at me. "Good morning (Y/N)." I grinned at him and nodded. "Aren't you hot?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned. It was pretty warm out, and I was in one of my sweaters.

"I'm fine, thanks." I replied defensively. He frowned slightly, but then continued onto the next pair. (Y/F/N) raised an eyebrow.

"What was that?" she asked.

"What was what?"

"You acting all weird around Mr. Horan," She cocked her head. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," I insisted. "Just tired." She shrugged and turned back to the front of the room. Mr. Horan was putting all the papers back on his desk. He walked back over to our side of the room.

"Okay, who here has heard Michael Buble's music? Raise your hand." I put mine up slightly, and Mr. Horan walked closer. "C'mon, all the way up." I raised it a little bit higher. I knew what he was doing, and he wasn't going to get what he wanted. He was looking right at me, worry in his blue eyes. I put my arm down and looked at my hands, avoiding his gaze. "So you've all hear Michael Buble's music..." he turned back to the whole class. "Okay, I want you to write down your favorite song by him and write it down. Then I want at least two paragraphs on why you enjoy that song. Go!" Well someone wasn't in a good mood. And I think I had an idea why. We all set to work.

***

"Everyone done?" Mr. Horan asked. "Bring your papers to the front of the room and hand them in." I walked slowly behind everyone else. "Thanks. You can go once you give me your paper." I got to the front and handed him the paper, my sleeve slipping up in the process.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. Mr. Horan's eyes widened, shooting from the cuts to my face. Again. How could I let him see again? I turned quickly, trying to walk out.

"(Y/N)." he stopped me. I stopped walking and stood, still facing away from me. "I need to talk to you." I turned slowly, walking back over to him.

"Yeah?" I asked hesitantly. He stood up, so he was looking down at me.

"You know I'm required to notify a guidance counselor." he informed me quietly, a serious expression replacing his usually care free smile. I bit my lip, looking at the ground.

"Yeah, I know." I replied shakily. He sighed, looking around and running a hand through his hair. "Please don't." His eyes fell back on me.

"I don't really have a choice, (Y/N)." he explained a little loudly. "Do you know how serious this is?"

"Yes." I answered, a tear escaping. His eyes softened.

"Don't cry." he pleaded. "How did this start?" I shook my head, not wanting to speak to him about it. He sat back down, sighing deeply. "Does anyone else know?" I shook my head again.

"Please don't tell anyone." I begged, wiping my eyes in my sleeve. "I'm not one of those emo kids.... I don't need to go to rehab or anything. I just... it's not a problem." I tried to explain.

"(Y/N), this is a problem. I really do have to tell someone."

"No!" I yelled, realizing my voice had risen. "I'm begging you. Please. I need to deal with this myself." He shook his head.

"You can't deal with this yourself." He looked deep in thought. "I guess I could keep this between us two, but you need to let me help you. Otherwise, I need to inform guidance as well as your parents." I nodded quickly.

"Okay. Anything. Thank you so much." He nodded, looking unsure of what he had just agreed to.

"Your welcome. I suggest we start lessons tomorrow." I tucked my hair behind my ear.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes, tomorrow." he confirmed, writing my pass.

"So you promise not to tell anyone?" I pleaded. He took a deep breath, handing me the pass.

"Yeah, I promise. But if it gets any worse or you don't let me help you--"

"That won't happen." I promised. "So do we have a deal?" I asked, holding out my hand for him to shake. He looked down at my scars then back at me, tapping his foot nervously. Eventually, he took my hand, shaking it.

"Deal."