[ that's who we've been missing in our classes, the man says and something in tim's chest feels like it cracks open. maybe it's the weight of getting so much of what he's said out in the open for the first time in two months, maybe it's just the pressure of being cornered by professor fuller here in his office. either way, warmth blooms in his chest, makes his face feel warm, makes his eyes almost threaten to burn.
he feels inexplicably tired, suddenly, even though the fight that he'd thought had run out of him is simply waiting, buzzing and jittering in his chest, making his heart pound heavy still. he opens his mouth to rebut something about goodness, something about a special something that tim supposedly has, but he closes it again. he doesn't believe whatever notion of goodness that is - no one with that kind of goodness turns his back on his family, tries to reconcile god with his life, does the kind of work that he does - but he could spend hours over that.
instead, he's drawn back out to professor fuller approaching, getting closer and closer, until he's all but forced to look up at him. it's a reflex, anyway, to obey him in this way. a command, even with the teacherly patience he's heard semester after semester. he blinks up at him, meeting his gaze, feeling strangely small now with the breadth and height of the man so close to him.
but he stares, silently up at him, shaken to the core by his words - you haven't lost my respect. ]
The way you spoke. Ah - before. [ at the park, in the cold, before christmas... ] Made it sound like you questioned... my free time. Like I was doing more than what you'd already expected to see from me. Worse, maybe.
[ especially when i don't know what they're up to outside of class.
tim shifts his weight, instinctively leaning onto one foot that creates a hint of space between them. but he can feel the heat of professor fuller from here, even smell the rich notes of his undoubtedly expensive aftershave, and he looks away from him then, down at his hands again, then back up because he knows he will be expected to speak to him face to face.
but professor fuller whisks away to this desk, drawing up snacks from somewhere, and tim at first stares for a moment at the pile of things on the lacquered top, then back up to him. tim takes a step toward the desk, closer to hawk. ]
I'm not that. I do what I have to do, and that day - before - was the only time. I know that what I have to do isn't right. That I should have just taken the scholarship I was given for SUNY and been satisfied with that - but I had to try. I want to be here, Professor Fuller. I want to do something good with all of this and I'm trying.
[ his jaw quivers, his throat swells with a hint of emotion but tim tries to suck in a deep breath, to temper the burning, dangerous, desperate little thing trying to crawl its way out from between his ribs. what would there be around his heart if not a lion, desperately clawing its way to the surface, unwilling to back down even when defeat seems imminent. ]
But I keep hearing what you said - over and over. When I saw it was you, I was glad. I trust you, probably more than I trust myself. And I get all of it - why you can't, why you don't want to - it's nothing about that. But I don't know how to reconcile the Tim Laughlin you knew before and the one who is here in front of you.
[ he huffs something like a desperate little noise, finally takes a step back, his hands coming to his hips. ]
I don't run around in my free time. I don't do anything more than what you've already seen. I don't have friends, I don't have family here, I barely survive just trying to pay my tuition every semester and just hope I get it in time to get seats in the classes I know I'll need or to get the right meal plan, or get the right books on time. I have nothing - but this school and these classes.
[ he runs a hand back through his hair, letting out a shaken breath and then furiously wipes at the corner of one eye beneath the dark rims of this glasses. how embarrassing. ]
I'm tired of pushing myself to fly when it never leads me anywhere good. I respect you a great deal, Professor Fuller. I... I want to do right by your classes and learn as much as I can from you while I'm still able to be here, but I'm just going to disappoint you. Because I am that same student, but I'm also the guy in the dark room with a camera who you can't trust.
[ his hands finally fall back to their sides.
there's no point in making lonigan's class. he won't be able to listen, to focus. he'll just have to be diligent in the future - not miss another so as not to drop his grade. ]
It's just the first time I've ever felt ashamed of it. For just trying to make it.
no subject
he feels inexplicably tired, suddenly, even though the fight that he'd thought had run out of him is simply waiting, buzzing and jittering in his chest, making his heart pound heavy still. he opens his mouth to rebut something about goodness, something about a special something that tim supposedly has, but he closes it again. he doesn't believe whatever notion of goodness that is - no one with that kind of goodness turns his back on his family, tries to reconcile god with his life, does the kind of work that he does - but he could spend hours over that.
instead, he's drawn back out to professor fuller approaching, getting closer and closer, until he's all but forced to look up at him. it's a reflex, anyway, to obey him in this way. a command, even with the teacherly patience he's heard semester after semester. he blinks up at him, meeting his gaze, feeling strangely small now with the breadth and height of the man so close to him.
but he stares, silently up at him, shaken to the core by his words - you haven't lost my respect. ]
The way you spoke. Ah - before. [ at the park, in the cold, before christmas... ] Made it sound like you questioned... my free time. Like I was doing more than what you'd already expected to see from me. Worse, maybe.
[ especially when i don't know what they're up to outside of class.
tim shifts his weight, instinctively leaning onto one foot that creates a hint of space between them. but he can feel the heat of professor fuller from here, even smell the rich notes of his undoubtedly expensive aftershave, and he looks away from him then, down at his hands again, then back up because he knows he will be expected to speak to him face to face.
but professor fuller whisks away to this desk, drawing up snacks from somewhere, and tim at first stares for a moment at the pile of things on the lacquered top, then back up to him. tim takes a step toward the desk, closer to hawk. ]
I'm not that. I do what I have to do, and that day - before - was the only time. I know that what I have to do isn't right. That I should have just taken the scholarship I was given for SUNY and been satisfied with that - but I had to try. I want to be here, Professor Fuller. I want to do something good with all of this and I'm trying.
[ his jaw quivers, his throat swells with a hint of emotion but tim tries to suck in a deep breath, to temper the burning, dangerous, desperate little thing trying to crawl its way out from between his ribs. what would there be around his heart if not a lion, desperately clawing its way to the surface, unwilling to back down even when defeat seems imminent. ]
But I keep hearing what you said - over and over. When I saw it was you, I was glad. I trust you, probably more than I trust myself. And I get all of it - why you can't, why you don't want to - it's nothing about that. But I don't know how to reconcile the Tim Laughlin you knew before and the one who is here in front of you.
[ he huffs something like a desperate little noise, finally takes a step back, his hands coming to his hips. ]
I don't run around in my free time. I don't do anything more than what you've already seen. I don't have friends, I don't have family here, I barely survive just trying to pay my tuition every semester and just hope I get it in time to get seats in the classes I know I'll need or to get the right meal plan, or get the right books on time. I have nothing - but this school and these classes.
[ he runs a hand back through his hair, letting out a shaken breath and then furiously wipes at the corner of one eye beneath the dark rims of this glasses. how embarrassing. ]
I'm tired of pushing myself to fly when it never leads me anywhere good. I respect you a great deal, Professor Fuller. I... I want to do right by your classes and learn as much as I can from you while I'm still able to be here, but I'm just going to disappoint you. Because I am that same student, but I'm also the guy in the dark room with a camera who you can't trust.
[ his hands finally fall back to their sides.
there's no point in making lonigan's class. he won't be able to listen, to focus. he'll just have to be diligent in the future - not miss another so as not to drop his grade. ]
It's just the first time I've ever felt ashamed of it. For just trying to make it.