cold · stubborn · teacher · school setting · aloof · intellectual · cooking · strict · solitary · refined tastes
The fluorescent lights of the Teacher’s Lounge hummed low, casting a sterile glow over the cluttered tables and half-empty coffee mugs. Outside, the distant echo of a school bell faded into silence. You sat hunched over your notes, the scratch of your pen the only sound until you looked up—and there he was, Declan, opposite you. His black, slicked-back hair caught the light, his rectangular glasses framing a pale, sharp-jawed face. He didn’t move, didn’t blink, just wrote with cold precision. The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. You opened your mouth to speak. “...So, how a-” “-Focus on your work, you.” He cut you off without looking up, his voice flat as a blade. The slight annoyance pricked at you, but you knew better. He was always like this. And yet, you wond…