[ once professor fuller takes up the paper, tim drops his school bag on the floor at the foot of the chair he often occupies in the man's office. he sits in it normally at first, feet even and flat on the ground but grows restless a few moments into the man's reading. he shifts around until he's sitting on his feet, legs and knees tucked under him, leaning heavy one one arm rest.
he watches the man read with great interest, and it's easy to get distracted in the moment, despite his upset. the line of hawk's nose, the way his jaw twitches as he swallows, the way the blue of his eyes moves over the words, even the way he licks a thumb to flip one of the pages over. he is worthy to be among the statues in glorious, grecian museums - all hard muscle and strong bones, with dark hair and skin flawless.
how many nights has he fantasized since he'd first heard good boy uttered in the low rumble of his voice?
he doesn't realize he's nearly chewing his bottom lip purple when hawk speaks again and his eyes dart up, expectant, nervous, uncertain. as though even the man across from him might deliver a condemning grade, something treacherous for the careful way he's crafted his gpa over the last three years. he doesn't realize how tense he is - how his shoulders are arced up to his ears, or how his brows raise, the concern he feels radiating through him until he hears the mark.
an A.
color rises into his cheeks and he lets out a little huff, and the nerves turn into an indignant little fury that makes his brow furrow, his jaw set and a fire light up behind his eyes. ]
He gave me a D-. Couldn't fail me because I actually did the assignment, but he said that I missed the point of the syllabus and that he couldn't grade me fairly because my views were too static, too rigid and unrealistic. I don't feel like my arguments here are at all radical or too flimsy. Mark Bailey - the guy from Civ in sophomore year? That guy who can't string two sentences together passed with flying marks. Professor Lever even read his out loud as an example.
[ he shifts in the chair, turning to slide his feet out from under him, so that his legs are bent to one side and his hip takes most of his weight in the chair. (he forgets the bruises there - the way the cuff of his shorts doesn't hide the smattering of brown and plum there, and he forgets the way the shorts tend to ride up, snugging up around the hard muscle of the middle of his thighs.) ]
He's told me that I am interrupting class by asking questions, too. I've even been mindful to wait and ask in pauses or ask when he asks for our feedback. He rolled his eyes at me. I didn't think I was that much trouble, but he pulled me aside after class today and told me he would have to speak to someone about how disruptive I am in class.
[ he huffs a little, face burning with both anger and embarrassment. ]
I know I talk a lot - I know it can be frustrating and I've tried very hard to be mindful of that when I try to contribute in classes, but whatever I do, he gets upset with me. At the same time, it's difficult to sit through a 90 minute lecture that is surface-deep at best and is simply read from a powerpoint that he built last minute.
[ he shakes his head, clearly flustered. ] If I had known I was going to be read to instead of taught I'd reconsider, but it's too late to change out of the course. Ah -
[ he looks back up at the man, a little sheepish. ]
no subject
he watches the man read with great interest, and it's easy to get distracted in the moment, despite his upset. the line of hawk's nose, the way his jaw twitches as he swallows, the way the blue of his eyes moves over the words, even the way he licks a thumb to flip one of the pages over. he is worthy to be among the statues in glorious, grecian museums - all hard muscle and strong bones, with dark hair and skin flawless.
how many nights has he fantasized since he'd first heard good boy uttered in the low rumble of his voice?
he doesn't realize he's nearly chewing his bottom lip purple when hawk speaks again and his eyes dart up, expectant, nervous, uncertain. as though even the man across from him might deliver a condemning grade, something treacherous for the careful way he's crafted his gpa over the last three years. he doesn't realize how tense he is - how his shoulders are arced up to his ears, or how his brows raise, the concern he feels radiating through him until he hears the mark.
an A.
color rises into his cheeks and he lets out a little huff, and the nerves turn into an indignant little fury that makes his brow furrow, his jaw set and a fire light up behind his eyes. ]
He gave me a D-. Couldn't fail me because I actually did the assignment, but he said that I missed the point of the syllabus and that he couldn't grade me fairly because my views were too static, too rigid and unrealistic. I don't feel like my arguments here are at all radical or too flimsy. Mark Bailey - the guy from Civ in sophomore year? That guy who can't string two sentences together passed with flying marks. Professor Lever even read his out loud as an example.
[ he shifts in the chair, turning to slide his feet out from under him, so that his legs are bent to one side and his hip takes most of his weight in the chair. (he forgets the bruises there - the way the cuff of his shorts doesn't hide the smattering of brown and plum there, and he forgets the way the shorts tend to ride up, snugging up around the hard muscle of the middle of his thighs.) ]
He's told me that I am interrupting class by asking questions, too. I've even been mindful to wait and ask in pauses or ask when he asks for our feedback. He rolled his eyes at me. I didn't think I was that much trouble, but he pulled me aside after class today and told me he would have to speak to someone about how disruptive I am in class.
[ he huffs a little, face burning with both anger and embarrassment. ]
I know I talk a lot - I know it can be frustrating and I've tried very hard to be mindful of that when I try to contribute in classes, but whatever I do, he gets upset with me. At the same time, it's difficult to sit through a 90 minute lecture that is surface-deep at best and is simply read from a powerpoint that he built last minute.
[ he shakes his head, clearly flustered. ] If I had known I was going to be read to instead of taught I'd reconsider, but it's too late to change out of the course. Ah -
[ he looks back up at the man, a little sheepish. ]
Sorry. That was rude of me.