# The Book Of Love

Title: The Book Of Love
Status: Complete
Characters: Anon, Fang, Trish, Reed, Mrs. Roberts
Rating: SFW
Classification: One Shot
Author: Anonymous
​
Another day, another lesson in one of the most important aspects of English class. Namely, how to bullshit your way to a completely arbitrary word count.
​
I make my way through the mostly empty hallways, bag slung over my shoulder, headed for the school library. While pretty much everyone else in the school was still in their classes, Mr. Tsuki had decided to spring some bullshit book report on us. Probably just to pad out the grades or something. Thankfully, we were free to choose whatever we wanted to write a report on, so maybe with a bit of luck I could find something that didn't completely suck to write about.
As I open the door to the library and step inside, I take a look around. I don't think I've ever actually been in the school library before. Not like I ever really had a need to. The room is divided into three main sections. The section closest to the door is filled mostly with bookshelves. The ones along the walls go straight from floor to ceiling, while several more rows of them form aisles in the center of the room, coming up to about chest height, allowing them to be seen over and making the entire room seem much larger. Beyond that, a series of computer stations are laid out in rows in roughly the center of the library, with two glass walled, presumably soundproofed study rooms built into the side wall. And finally, at the far end of the library, a large, open sitting area, with plush looking chairs in the corners, more bookshelves lining the side walls, and a large table right in the center. The very far wall is made entirely of glass, allowing natural light to pour into the far end of the library and giving a view out into the small courtyard beyond. The first thing I notice about the library beyond its appearance, is how empty it is. The large room is deathly quiet. There's only two other students in here, both of whom are sitting at computer stations. One typing away at something, the other looking more like he's lounging than doing any sort of actual work.
​
Apart from them, the only sign of life within the library was the librarian herself, who immediately peers over at me as I step in the door. An older looking pink Tyrannosaur with whispy snow white hair. Her golden yellow eyes glare at me over her half-moon spectacles as her head turns slightly towards me, momentarily drawn away from whatever it was she was doing. And in that brief instant, I get a pretty good idea of why there aren't too many people in the library. The way she looks at me, that same judging, contemptuous look I've gotten so many times from these fucking meteor dodgers when I first transferred here. The way her lips tighten. The way she sits, almost rigid and perfectly straight behind her desk. The way she's dressed, that almost formal attire with her blouse buttoned all the way up to the top and a tall, almost painfully white collar. Her demeanor, hell, practically everything about her, gave the impression that she was going to be a painfully strict, total bitch.
​
For a grand total of about a second she looks at me, just long enough to register my existence, before completely disregarding me and returning her attention to whatever it was she was doing. Well, at least that left me free to look for a decent book without being bothered. But of course, now came the difficult part - deciding what to pick. Had to be something that I could ideally write a large amount about fairly easily, while hopefully not being boring as absolute fuck to read. Guess deciding on a genre would be a good place to start. Science, maybe? I could probably put my knowledge of railguns to good use in essay form... but then again, making my extensive knowledge of experimental weapons technology known to the school through an essay about it probably wouldn't be the best idea.
​
Maybe something music related? I've been really struggling in that class, even with all of Fang's tutoring. Maybe reading up on it a little would help me out. I make my way over to the relevant section of the bookshelves, peering through the various book spines and glancing over their titles. Eventually, I decide on one simply titled "Music Theory", grabbing it off of the shelf and flipping it open, taking a quick look through it. Immediately, I am assaulted by a slew of unfamiliar, alien terms. Pitch, scales, consonance, rhythm, melodies, harmonies...
What the fuck am I reading?
I close the book once more and quickly put it back in its space on the shelf. Yeah, nope. No way in hell that's going to work. I can barely understand a fucking word in there, there's no way I'm going to be able to hammer out a decent report on it within a week.
​
With that idea shot, I resign myself to simply wandering aimlessly among the shelves, looking for pretty much anything that catches my eye. I don't even know what exactly I'm looking for. As I wander through the history section, however, my wandering eye catches on a small image of a caveman adorning the spine of one of the books. What the hell? I take a closer look. "Primitive Technology". I slide the book off of the shelf to take a closer look. Flipping it over, the cover is adorned with a rather stereotypical looking caveman, raising what looks like a stone hammer over his head while a fire burns in the foreground, in front of a ramshackle looking hut constructed out of mud, sticks, and vines.
"Primitive Technology: Tools, shelters, and techniques of early Man"
Wow. I wonder if I can sue the school for hate crimes.
Wait a minute... Yeah, this could be perfect. A few cries of discrimination in the paper and the teacher would be pretty much forced to give me a good grade to save face. Oh, yes. Years of baiting the fuck out of dino-apologists on a certain Scandinavian metallurgy forum was about to pay off handsomely.
​
With the book in hand, I make my way back up towards the front desk to check it out. Once again, that pink Tyrannosaur glances up at me as I approach, noticeably straightening up slightly as I approach the desk, but not saying anything. A small, metallic nameplate resting on the desk displays her name: Mrs. Roberts. Her eyes glance downward as I place the book on the desk in front of her, and she quickly spins it around to face her and opens the front cover in one swift motion, turning slightly to type up some information on the computer behind the desk next to her. Finally, she speaks, in a firm, ever so slightly gravelly voice.
​
"Name."
"Oh, uhh, Anon."
Her typing pauses momentarily, her eyes darting over to look straight at me, a twinge of annoyance entering her voice.
"FULL name."
Yeesh. Yep, she was a bitch alright.
"Right, sorry. Anon Y. Mous."
​
Her gaze instantly returns to the computer screen and she resumes typing, her fingers rapidly and firmly slamming down on the keys. Then, with swift, practiced movements, she grabs a card from a pocket on the inside cover of the book, slaps it down onto the table, and slides it under some sort of stamp or punch next to the computer, smacking it down with her other hand before just as rapidly whipping the card back out, sliding it back into its pouch, then closing the cover of the book, spinning it a near perfect 180 degrees, and pushing it back across the table towards me. Damn, the old girl sure does move fast.
​
"Due back by the end of the day on Friday. Late fee is $20. If it ends up lost or damaged, it's $80."
"Thanks."
​
She doesn't even respond, already having turned back to whatever it was she was working on before I approached her. Goddamn. Well, at least dealing with her would be a relatively quick process. With that out of the way, I make my way back out of the library, book in hand. I'll take a glance through it later when I have the time.
​
The rest of the week rolls by quickly, and soon enough, the due date for the book approaches. And yet, I find myself surprisingly being unable to put it down. While I was expecting a bunch of casual and blatant specieism, this book is actually pretty in depth and professional about everything. It's not really a traditional "book" per se, so much as a collection of guides or how-tos. The book lists a whole slew of primitive gadgets and tools. Stone tools, clay pottery, basic hunting and fishing equipment, textiles and basketweaving, farming techniques, firemaking and kiln equipment - even full blown single room houses, all made entirely from scratch and using nothing but natural resources one might find out in the woods somewhere, all with illustrated, in depth, step by step guides on how to make them yourself. For how much you hear about "spear chuckers" and "rock throwers", I had no idea that my ancestors were so... advanced. It's been quite an entertaining read. Hell, I might have to try some of this stuff out myself sometime. In fact... I find myself kind of regretting that I have to return it now.
​
However, regardless of how badly I want to finish the book, my broke ass definitely cannot afford to be paying the late fee on it. So, it's back to the library I go. Thankfully, my last period of the day is a study hall, so I don't need to race to get it turned in before classes or at the very end of the day. With the book in hand, I make my way in through the library doors. Once again, the room is basically dead, and once again, the elderly Tyrannosaur, Mrs. Roberts, glances at me from whatever work she's doing behind her desk. She maintains her gaze for a few moments longer as she notices me approaching the desk, then noticing the hardcover book in my hand. She speaks as I approach the desk.
"Turning in?"
I nod, laying the book on the desk in front of her.
"Yes, ma'am."
She wordlessly goes through the motions once again, rapidly whipping the library card out of the front cover and punching it, then sliding it back into its sleeve. As she closes the cover, however, an idea comes to mind. We're allowed to read the books for as long as we want if they stay in the library, right?
​
"Actually... If it's alright, could I read that in here for a little while longer? I'd really like to finish it."
​
The question stops her dead in her tracks. Her hands still on the book, she sits frozen for a moment or two, then turns her head up to look at me. I was half expecting to get chewed out, but looking at her face... She seems more surprised than annoyed. Her eyes widen just a bit, her eyebrows raise subtly, her lips tighten just a bit. She looks up at me for a few moments, glances down at the book once again, then looks back to me.
​
"... Do you remember where you got it from?"
"I... think so, yes." I at least have a vague recollection of the section I grabbed it from. I'm sure if I looked hard enough I could find its proper spot without any problems.
​
With the subtlest of nods, she slides the book back across the desk towards me, looking at me for a few more seconds before turning back to her work. Huh. I was expecting much more of a hassle from her, honestly. Maybe she's not so bad after all. With that out of the way, I make my way back into the furthest section of the library, plopping down into one of the empty seats and opening the book once more, continuing from where I left off. There's a littany of interesting things in here... Hell, there's even a tutorial for a small shack with a small firepit running under a stone slab that acts as a sort of heated sleeping surface. Such a thing would never have even occured to me to try out. I really should take notes and give some of this stuff a try the next time I go camping.
​
Time passes, and eventually, I find myself finishing up the last few pages of the book. A quick glance at my phone shows that I'm just in the nick of time, too. School would be letting out within the next ten minutes or so. I pick myself up out of the chair, in my mind running through the path I had taken a week prior while searching for the book so that I have some vague idea of where to put it back. Let's see now... History section. Perfect, there's an empty spot for it more or less where I remember nabbing it from. I slide the book back onto the shelf, and with that, grab my things and begin to make my way out of the library.
​
However, right as I go to pass Mrs. Robert's desk, the sound of her gravelly voice stops me right before I reach the door.
"You know... That book you were reading does have a second edition, if you're interested."
​
And so, just like that, I find myself checking out another book from the library. Mrs. Roberts seems all too eager to hook me up, getting me the relevant book in mere moments. Either she knows this library like the back of her hand, or she had been planning this beforehand. Maybe both. Although I don't really have any reason to continue reading them, the books are interesting, and they've got me hooked. I end up spending most of my free time over the course of that week reading the book, during free periods and after school. This is probably the longest I've gone without touching the X-Rox in years. By the time Friday rolls around again and it's time to return the book, I once more find myself sitting in one of the chairs in the far section of the library, finishing off the last couple pages. Mrs. Roberts had seemed entirely willing to allow me to stay as long as I needed to finish the book off, so long as I cleaned up after myself and returned it when I was done. In fact, a few times I had glanced up from the book, only to notice her rapidly redirect her gaze back to the computer at her desk.
Was she watching me?
I try not to stare. Whatever, she's the librarian. She's supposed to keep an eye on me while I'm in here, right? Probably just making sure I'm not up to no good. I return my attention to the book, carefully looking through a section showing some techniques of making charcoal.
​
As my eyes shift towards the top of the next page, I notice something in my peripheral, and practically jump out of my seat as I look up to see Mrs. Roberts towering over me, staring down the bridge of her snout at me. She doesn't react at all to my surprise, standing almost rigidly upright with her hands folded neatly behind her. Her face, however, looks... different. Softer, somehow. Like her resting bitch face has lessened into a more neutral expression. I quickly realize that I'm staring at her, and decide that I should probably say something.
​
"Oh, um. Hello, Mrs. Roberts."
"Hello, Mr. Mous. I must say, I'm a little surprised with you. Impressed, even."
What? Impressed? Impressed how?
"Umm... Thank you? What exactly did I do?"
"Not very many students come to the library of their own accord. Usually, the only time I see a student in here is when they're being forced to look something up for an assignment, or to type something up on the computer."
She pauses for a moment.
"Most people you're age, they're too busy either playing video games in their spare time or buried in their phones, typing away on that "Snout-Book" or "Tweet-Saur" or what have you. It's... good to know that there are still young people interested in reading."
​
For a brief moment, the corners of her mouth twitch slightly.
Did she just smile?
All I can think about, however, is how basically everything she had just said about 'most people my age' described me just about perfectly - aside from the fact that I would never use such trash heap normie sites.
She must never know.
​
"Well. Pardon the interruption, I'll allow you to return to your book now. Enjoy. And, if at any point you wish to discuss anything, need any reccommendations, or need help finding anything, you know where to find me."
"Okay... Thanks, Mrs. Roberts."
There it is again. That subtle curl in the corner of her mouth, right before she turns to walk away, returning to her desk. It had never occured to me before, but I had never once seen her sporting any expression beyond a persistent scowl. That is, until just now. Without that scowl, she looks much more... Approachable. Pleasant, even.
Maybe Mrs. Roberts wasn't so bad after all.
​
As the weeks pass and the school year carries on, I find myself periodically coming to the library to read. At first once a week, then a couple times a week. Then, pretty much whenever I could find spare time between classes and hanging out with Fang and her friends. Every time I got close to finishing a book and thinking I wouldn't have much of a reason to come back anymore, Mrs. Roberts always manages to find some new book to suggest or something to say that catches my interest juuuuuust enough to keep me coming back around. And by the looks of it, she not only knows it, but is quite proud of herself for it. I've actually seen her smile a few times now. Not just the subtle curling in the corners of her lips, either, but a full blown, honest smile.
​
Fang and Trish both seemed to think I was absolutely insane for wanting to even be in the same room as Mrs. Roberts. Even Reed, laid back as he was, seemed to be wary of her.
"Oh god, THAT'S where you've been running off to? You really are a fucking dweeb. How the hell can you stand being around that librarian, anyway? She's nuts."
"Ugh, Mrs. Roberts? Yeah, she's a total bitch. Surprised she hasn't torn the skinny apart by now, honestly."
"Whoooooah, Mrs. Roberts? Yeah, she's like... SUPER uptight, bro. And she's old school, too. Like, the kind that'd probably hit you with a ruler, if she could get away with it."
All of them seemed so hostile when it came to her, so defensive, making her out to be some nasty bitch who would tear your head off if you stepped even slightly out of line. And I know exactly why they'd think that, too. I had been there myself, when I first stepped foot in that library.
​
But as I had hung out around her more, and gotten to know her a bit better, she suddenly seemed much nicer to be around. I wondered, how much of her uptight, strict attitude and demeanor was genuine? Was it malice, or was it simply her annoyance at the overwhelming majority of students who passed through her library's doors not caring in the slightest about what she was most passionate about? Here she was, in a position where she was supposed to help and encourage students with reading and research - but who reads actual, physical books in this day and age? Almost nobody reads for recreation anymore - and those who read for research can just as easily if not moreso find everything they need online. She must have felt so useless. A product of a bygone age.
All of a sudden, I felt like I understood her bitterness.
I could very well be the first person in a long time to understand.
​
"Mr. Mous. You're mumbling to yourself again."
Oh mother fucker.
Once again, I'm shaken back to reality by Mrs. Roberts. She sits across a small table from me, the slow and mostly empty library coupled with how quickly and easily she could complete her work giving her more than enough time to sit and chat with me between bouts of reading, something we had both been enjoying very much. I wondered how much of my little spiel she had heard.
"Most everything, I'm afraid."
I swear to fucking god I am going to tear out my own esophagus and curb stomp it.
She chuckles softly for just a moment. Thankfully, she seems more amused than offended.
"Quite the interesting theory you have there, Anon."
I open my mouth to speak, before my mumbling can dig my grave any deeper.
"W-Well, since we've been hanging out and everything, I've learned a lot about you, Mrs. Roberts. You're a lot nicer than you seemed at first."
"Mmm. I'm glad you think so, Anon. Not very many students get to know me particularly well."
"Yeah. I've actually really enjoyed just hanging out here and chatting with you, and all the books you've recommended. Your husband must be a lucky man."
​
Her smile suddenly fades, just a bit. Her look becomes more distant. She no longer seems to be looking at me, but through me almost, like she's focusing on nothing in particular.
Did I say something wrong?
"... Yes, I suppose he was."
Oh.
Oh fuck.
Hmm, my foot tastes like paperback today.
Immediately, I switch into damage control mode, stumbling over my words as I try to quickly hammer out an apology.
"O-Oh, god, Mrs. Roberts, I'm so sorry, I-"
Almost immediately she dismisses me with a quick wave of her hand, turning her head away for a moment.
"It's fine, dear. You didn't know. My husband passed nearly fifteen years ago, now. It's... The worst of it has passed."
Even with her reassurance that she's moved on, I still can't help but feel like I've re-opened some old wounds.
"I didn't mean to dig anything up. I was just trying to be nice. I'm sorry."
"I told you, it's fine, dear. It happened over a decade ago. Just... Things like that never truly go away. I still miss him dearly, of course. Some part of me will always miss him. But, I've learned to live with it. I've moved on, as much as I'm able to, at least. I can't let myself sit around and mourn for the rest of my life."
She pauses, allowing herself to smile once more. Though it seems genuine, there's a hint of sorrow behind it. She continues...
​
"He was in the navy, when he was a young man. My husband, he was never a smoker. Never touched the stuff. But, the way things were back then, the mindset those sailors had, if one did it, they all did it. So, during his time in the service, he smoked. I told him, again and again, how nasty that stuff was for him. But, that damned sense of cameraderie just wouldn't let him quit. Then, after he left the service four years later, he quit practically the day he came home, and never touched the stuff again."
She chuckles softly, shaking her head.
"Everything was fine. Years passed, everything was normal, we were happy. Twenty years, and he was healthy as a bull."
She turns slowly towards me, her smile growing ever so slightly more strained, more forced.
"Then, one day..." She snaps her fingers. "Lung cancer. Snuck up on him all at once."
She takes a deep breath, her chest heaving slightly as she lets a heavy breath out from her mouth, collecting herself for a moment. She's no longer focused on me, instead staring off into space, lost in thought. All I can do is stare, and listen.
"He was dead within a week."
Holy shit.
​
All I can do is stare blankly, and try to comprehend what Mrs. Roberts has just unloaded onto me. She blinks a few times, taking a heavy breath through her nose. Then, all at once, she sits herself upright in her chair, straightening herself up.
"Ah, but listen to me, shoveling all my old woes onto you. It's fine dear."
"Mrs. Roberts... I..."
"Anon, dear."
She reaches across the table, gently laying a hand atop mine, and offers me a smile. Though slightly strained, it seems genuine.
"I know you think you've dug up some horrible trauma from my past, or want to help me get through this, or something like that. But we're talking about an event that occured nearly fifteen years ago. There is nothing you need to do. I still feel sorrow for my husband's passing from time to time, yes, but that is all perfectly natural, as natural as death itself. I loved him very much. More than thirty years, we were happily together. A piece of me will always be with him, yes, but I cannot allow myself to be anchored down by it forever. It is my burden to bear, and I will bear it as long as I live, until the day I finally see him again."
Her smile only grows, though her eyes shimmer ever so slightly, the faintest hint of a tear in one.
"... If you're sure, Mrs. Roberts."
"I am sure, dear. Thank you. It's... rather touching that you'd be so concerned about an old hag like me."
She gives my hand a gentle squeeze, and with another wide smile, she stands up.
"Thank you for hearing me out, Anon. For... giving me someone to share with."
I blink a few times. Wow. I'm not sure how to react to this. Part of me wants to help, but at the same time, she was right. There was no helping for something like this. This was just the normal process of grieving, for a man she had spent a good portion of her life with. Something only she could fully deal with, on her own terms. And by now, thankfully, the worst of the pain would have faded.
"Of course, Mrs. Roberts."
"Oh, and, Mr. Mous?" She turns her head, looking back over her shoulder at me as she stops in the middle of the aisle. "You're free to call me Jean, if you like."
Another smile. No sorrow behind this one. Then, all of a sudden, her gaze diverts for a second, her smile vanishing as she stands rigidly upright once more. Almost as if she's caught herself.
"... That's AFTER graduation. So long as you're still a student here, I expect you to show the proper respect for your teachers. But I suspect that shouldn't be a problem for you, will it, Mr. Mous?"
"Heh... O-Of course not, Mrs. Roberts."
With that, she nods her head, and turns to walk away, making her way back over towards her desk.
​
Jean Roberts, huh?
What a lady.
​
Weeks turn to months. By this point, pretty much all of my free time, both during school and for a while afterwards, is being spent in the library. And I begin to realize that it's not so much for the sake of reading as it is for the sake of spending more time with Mrs. Roberts. In fact, I've been spending so much time with her, that I've been pretty heavily forsaking any other traces of a social life, whether that be through shitposting online, or hanging out with Fang and her friends. A fact which I'm crudely reminded up when Fang gives me a rather firm hip check in the lunch line one day.
​
"Hey, dweeb. Fancy seeing you here."
"Oh, uhh, hey Fang."
"So, you actually planning on eating with us today?"
She gives me a subtle grin. She... actually wants to hang out with me? Wow, that's surprising. Truthfully though, I was planning on simply grabbing my lunch and headed over to the library. Before I can open my mouth to reply, however, Trish butts in as she falls into line behind the two of us.
"Pfft, nah. Anon's probably too busy hanging out with his girlfriend, Mrs. Roberts."
I can feel my heart jump into my throat at that remark. Trish simply sneers over at me, and Fang gives a soft chuckle. I... have been spending quite a bit of time with her, haven't I? Does that seem weird at all? I didn't want to come off as clingy or anything, nor did I want to cut off any aspects of a social life outside of the library.
"Y-Yeah, I'll eat with you guys. Sure."
​
With that, it's off to the auditorium we go. However, although I'm hanging out with Fang and her friends, I can't stop thinking about Mrs. Roberts. Something about that remark Trish made has really been nagging at the back of my mind. She had called Mrs. Roberts my "girlfriend". And now that the idea had been planted there, I couldn't help but feel all tingly inside whenever I thought about it. She was practically four times my age, by no means should I have more than a cursory interest in her, as a friend and a mentor. And yet...
​
... Do I like Mrs. Roberts?
​
I shake my head. Fuck, Anon, what are you thinking? Even if you DO like her like that, there's no way she'd feel the same way about you. Was she even interested in dating at her age? ... Wait, what the fuck am I doing even thinking about dating, with someone like her? There's no way it would happen... but I can't help but wonder.
​
She had mentioned that her husband had died nearly 15 years ago. If she was interested in finding someone else, wouldn't she have already done so by now? The thoughts nag at the back of my head. I don't even know why I give them so much thought. There's no way she'd be anywhere near as interested in me as I am in her... Wait. AM I interested in her?
​
Fuck.
​
Later that day, I find myself back in the library during my study hall, all these rampant thoughts still bouncing around in my head. I can barely concentrate. I hardly even register Mrs. Roberts as she looks up from her desk at me as I pass by. After taking a seat in my usual spot, it doesn't take long for the pink Tyrannosaur to approach me with a smile on her face. However, her smile quickly fades as she approaches, being replaced by a look of concern.
"You have a troubled look on your face, Anon. What seems to be the matter?"
Well, shit. Apparently I wasn't doing a particularly good job of hiding it. Now what? I couldn't just flat out ask her 'Hey Mrs. Roberts, would you ever in a million years consider dating me?' That would go over like a lead balloon. Should I lie? Make up some fake school related issue to be concerned about? Was I making a big deal out of nothing? Surely I had no business asking her about her love life.
But... There couldn't be any harm in asking, right?
​
"Mrs. Roberts, I'm curious... I get that you probably needed time to move on from your husband's passing... But in 15 years, you never remarried? Why?"
She goes slightly wide eyed. She doesn't seem to have been expecting that particular question. She chuckles softly to herself and dips her head a bit, shaking it from side to side.
"Anon, dear. Look at me." She brings her hands down in front of her body, gesturing broadly to herself to emphasize. "I'm an old woman. Nobody would have me at my age."
"Nonsense, you're not that old. How old exactly are you, anyway?"
She raises an eyebrow, looking back up at me, giving me a sort of half grin and half accusatory look.
"Now, Mr. Mous, you should know it's not polite to ask a woman her age." She gives a soft chuckle, her smile widening as she picks her head back up fully, crossing her arms. "I was born in 201M1956. I'll allow you to do the math on that one."
She snorts softly, an almost smug aura emanating from her as she challenges me to figure it out on my own. Almost like I have to prove my worth if I want to know.
"Well, you certainly don't look that old. You seem like you take decent care of yourself."
She turns her head away and waves a hand at me dismissively, trying to hide the smile on her face from the compliment.
"Oh please, you don't have to try and flatter me. I know these old bones aren't what they used to be."
"No, I'm being serious. Hell, I think you're... kind of beautiful, in fact."
That manages to get a slight blush going on her, her eyes drifting shut as she brings a hand up to her snout.
"Oh come now, you're just saying that."
"I bet I can prove it to you."
"Oh can you really, now?"
​
She turns to look at me once more, that smile of hers paired with a curious expression, unsure what I've got in mind. Truthfully, I don't fully know myself. All I know is what feels right. I lean forward across the table towards Mrs. Roberts, the look of curiosity on her face only intensifying as I draw closer to her. Then, gently taking hold of her chin, I press my lips softly to hers.
I can feel her tense up, her entire body going rigid as I catch her off guard. Hear the rush of air going in her nose, feel the muffled sound of surprise for an instant against my lips. Her lips... They're so soft. A subtle warmth to them, as I hold them against my own. I can feel her relax just a bit under me, as she slowly releases the sharp breath she's taken in.
​
Slowly, I pull my lips back from hers, separating from her and ending the kiss, placing myself back in my seat on my own side of the table. Yeah... That was nice. Then, I get a good look at her face. She's completely silent, her eyes wide in surprise, lips parted ever so slightly. I've never seen her make such an expression before... It's actually pretty cute. Then, in an instant, I go from feeling like Cassanova to the biggest retard on the face of the planet.
Fucking christ, I just kissed a teacher.
Why the fuck did I just do that?
What the hell was I thinking?
​
I can feel my body going into panic mode, my heart beginning to race as the impact of what I've just done begins to set in. Of course you can't just randomly kiss her like that, she's the fucking libarian Anon you colossal idiot. Holy fuck, how did any part of me ever think this was actually a good idea? She blinks once, apparently still trying to process what's just happened. Should I apologize to her? Try to salvage this absolute shitshow somehow? Fuck me, I'm going to be getting chewed out for the rest of the school year, all because I had to play the part of a stupid fucking romantic. Because I had to try and be all 'suave' and 'smooth'. My mind races, my mouth opens slightly as I try to find the words to explain myself to Mrs. Roberts. Right before I'm about to speak however, she allows her mouth to close fully, adjusting her position in her chair to sit herself upright once more, and clearing her throat softly before finally speaking.
​
"W-Well then. That's certainly one way to go about proving it."
​
I can hear a deep, heavy breath escape from her nose, and notice the subtlest of blushes coming over her face. And... was she smiling? Ever so faintly, the corners of her mouth were curled upward. Did... Did she actually enjoy that? Holy fuck, did that retarded sappy bullshit play of mine actually just work? Okay, calm down Anon. This situation might just be salvageable after all. All I have to do now is find some way to get back into conversation with her without it being awkward as fuck.
​
"So, uhh... Mrs. Roberts. Do you wanna, maybe, go grab a bite to eat or maybe get a coffee or something sometime?"
​
Her eyes long firmly onto me. I can feel her gaze, those viscious golden eyes of hers burning into me. For a brief, shining moment, her smile begins to widen, her lips twitching ever so softly... Then, it fades. Her mouth drops back to its usual neutral position, her magnificent golden eyes drifting shut. Slowly, she pushes back her chair and stands up, straightening herself up, her hands folded behind her back as she takes a deep breath through her nose.
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"Anon. You're a student. I'm a teacher. I don't think I need to tell you how unprofessional of me it would be to pursue any sort of intimate relationship with you."
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Fffffffuck. Those words cut into me like a dagger, in the worst possible way. Worse even, is the fact that I should have known that this would be the case. That she was completely right. Of course I can't be in a relationship with her, she's a fucking teacher. Not to mention being like, four times my age. There's no way it could work. It simply wasn't meant to be, and I was a fool for ever believing otherwise. I can feel myself beginning to slump into my seat.
"... However..."
Almost instantly, I perk back up again, my head picking up to look directly at her. No way. There's no fucking way.
"... I can offer you some one on one tutoring sessions outside of regular school hours, if you're having any difficulty with literary assignments. I know a halfway decent cafe not too far from here we can meet at. Bring your textbooks, we can discuss any of the material, if you need it."
​
I can feel my eyes widening, my heart beginning to race once more. All the while, Jean keeps that air of professionalism she does so very well, standing straight and rigid, looking down her snout at me. Then, at the very end, I see that smile return, that oh so subtle curl of her lips lighting up her face, as she adds one final bit to her proposal.
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"... Also. You're a senior, yes? Graduation is in a few months. So, just hold off for a little while. And, if you're still interested in this old fossil by then, well... Maybe we can work something out."
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I can't help myself but grin like an idiot. I nod happily, trying not to break into joyous laughter.
"Y-yeah. Yeah, alright, that sounds good."
"Alright, then it's settled. I'll get you the paperwork to fill out to request after school tutoring, and I'll get you the time and place where we can meet. See you soon, Anon."
With a smirk that can only be described as devilish, she turns and begins to head back in the direction of her desk. And suddenly, I found myself in the exact same mindset that I was in when I first transferred to Volcano High.
​
Graduation could not possibly come fast enough.