Chapter Text
Three years. Three years you’d been stuck at this god awful school. Senior year, the word almost as discomforting as the pasts three years themselves. No matter how much you had despised this school, it offered the shallow safeguard of just being a high schooler with no real responsibilities. Now that you were a senior, eighteen, and preparing for college you weren’t so sure you were ready to leave just yet.
But what am I leaving behind?
Well for one your social life wasn’t anything worth mourning; It’s not like you had real friends, just people you’d conveniently meet gazes with when classes required groups or partners. Much less your romantic life, you hadn’t had a boyfriend since middle school…and obviously that doesn’t count. So what would you miss? Mrs. Afton, your counselor. She was a saint of a woman, letting you cry in her office at 7 in the morning all the while she takes time out of her day just to let you ramble your guts out and replies with soothing words of wisdom.
Mrs. Afton wasn’t just a wonderful counselor, but she was beautiful. The pinnacle of femininity in your eyes: elegant, soft spoken, yet confident within herself. Maybe that’s why you looked up to her so much. You strived to be as eloquent of a woman she is. Not only is she your counselor, but probably your only “friend” in this whole school.
Having no friends has its benefits. It means having excellent grades since all your time is dedicated to studying rather than socializing. You weren’t exceptional at school but just above average than everybody else. Except for science. Science wasn’t your strong suit. In fact this almost caused you to fail chemistry sophomore year.
Maybe it wasn’t all your fault though, Mr. Lupin’s chemistry class was a hellhole for everyone in it. Which is why he was promptly fired once the school year ended. After a year of struggling to find a permanent replacement for Mr. Lupin someone was finally hired from staff recommendation. William Afton, chemistry teacher for regular and AP chem. You recall your initial reaction to the news last year when you were fixing up your schedule for senior year.
…
“Mr. Afton? Your husband?” You asked curiously, sitting in the extra chair in Mrs. Afton’s cozy office.
“Yes, it’s perfect. Though he’s still fairly new, I’m sure you’ve met him in passing.” She smiled softy at you like always, her short nails tapping against the desk. You couldn’t actually recall meeting her husband. Sure he’d been at the school for a few months now but you’d never actually seen him in the building yet. However you did catch glimpses of him in the portraits of her family Mrs. Afton used as decor in her office.
“No I haven’t, I’m sure he’s great but Mrs. Afton…are you sure? I hardly passed regular chemistry.” A tight smile pulled at your lips, trying to be polite while attempting to dissuade Mrs. Afton from placing you in AP chemistry for senior year. As always, she was your biggest supporter, especially in academics. But that also meant every year was her pushing you to challenge yourself with harder classes because ‘she knows you can do it’.
“Oh come on, you’re so smart. I know you can do it!”
There’s that phrase again.
“—and you know what? William is an excellent teacher. I just know he’ll love you.” She pushed further before you could even respond to her first remark.
You bit back a sigh, gripping the plastic armrest of your chair a little tighter before begrudgingly speaking again.
“I…I guess I could try.” You mumbled, the tight smile just getting more taut. She just had a way of getting to you which made it so hard to refuse her.
And now here you were, finally senior year, last class of the first day. First days were calm because teachers tended to let it be somewhat of a free day. But at the same time they were slow days full of teeth grating ice breakers and awkward introductions. You couldn’t wait to just go home and sleep off all the exhaustion.
“Room E103” you mumbled beneath your breath, shoving the little paper where you had written down your schedule in the pocket of your jeans. The passing bell was just a minute away from ringing as you popped your head into the classroom.
As usual you were one of the first, but actually you seemed to be the only one showing up early. Stepping into the classroom you made your way up to the second row of tables to sit at, passing by the large chalkboard at the front of the class where a man, presumably Mr. Afton, was writing with a small piece of chalk that squeaked slightly against the sleek board. You pulled back the plastic chair to sit in at the very edge at the table, causing the chair’s legs to grate across the floor in the silent room, catching the attention of William Afton.
His head turned over his shoulder, looking toward to the source of the awful sound. You too looked at him, catching your first look at his face. His stoic expression left you a bit timid as you caught his gaze. He just silently stared at you and all you could do was stare back awkwardly unable to look away.
Your breath felt trapped in your lungs as you picked at your nails beneath the table the longer this continued. It felt unbearably embarrassing and you could feel a wobbly downturned smile lugging at your lips. Just as you were about to look away the bell rung promptly followed by your classmates starting to pour in.
Finally, he turned his attention back towards the words on the board. Though the shared gaze only lasted seconds, Mr. Afton’s piercing sliver eyes made it feel like an eternity.
What had that been about? Did you make it awkward? Why didn’t he say anything? Before you could elaborate on your overthinking, the sound of Mr. Afton clearing his throat cut off your train of thought. You watched as he carefully set the chalk on the ledge of the board.
“Good afternoon class, settle down please. My name is Mr. Afton, I’ll be your AP chemistry teacher.” His voice mulled out in the classroom,. His name was written neatly on the board in big letters for everyone to see.
“Now obviously I expect you all have a firm grasp on the basics of chemistry since you’re in advanced placement. If you need a reminder, do not fret the curriculum will very briefly reintroduce us in our first unit.” Your gaze was fixated as he went on about what the school year would look like for the class.
In all honesty, you found yourself paying more attention to his appearance rather than the syllabus he was discussing.
He wore a simple white button up coupled with a black vest. His outfit had an interesting pop of color with the purple tie that peeked beneath the vest. A little on the fancy side, but you supposed it was the first day with “first impressions” and all.
He wasn’t ugly by any means, a narrow nose, sharp face, long stature, and intriguing silver eyes. His thin brunette hair was slightly unkempt but in an odd way that suited him. You could perfectly invision him beside Mrs. Afton, they made a likely couple.
“Now you’ll have to excuse me if I struggle with names. I’ll try my best but my memory isn’t the best at times, so correct me if need be,” his voice rang with a faint chuckle to himself. You noted the distinct British accent in his voice. Mrs. Afton had one as well, though it was less pronounced than his.
He began to read down the list of attendance as your classmates engaged in side conversations until it was their turn to say here.
However their voices were completely muddled in your ears. All you could hear was the gravely tune of Mr. Afton’s voice as he called out names. You couldn’t help how lullled you felt by his voice, it was so distinct amongst everyone else’s.
You saw his lips move but the words didn’t register in your brain. He spoke again. This time, he looked right at you saying your name. You blinked, realizing he’d been calling your name.
“Here,” you almost didn’t respond, it felt as if his calling of your name was merely in your head. His gaze flickered on you for a moment until he looked back at his paper.
How embarrassing, you thought. You’d been staring at him unwaveringly yet it took you so long to answer. But then you thought back to how he looked at you, it’s as if he knew the name belonged to you. You found it strange since you don’t recall ever properly meeting him.
You had expected the rest of class to be uneventful for the first day. However, Mr. Afton wasted no time in refreshing your minds on the horror of subject Chemistry is. He wrote stoichiometry problems on the board for the class to solve.
“I’ll give you,” he paused to look down at the watch on his slim wrist, “let’s say 5 minutes to solve the problem then I’ll have someone to solve it on the board.”
Internally you were panicked, you hardly remembered anything from chemistry sophomore year. You chewed on the end of your pencil, staring down at the paper trying to rattle your mind for some answers. Before you knew it time was up and the equation you had on your notebook was definitely not stoichiometry.
“Time’s up. Do I have any volunteers for me to solve the problem on the board?” Mr. Afton looked around the class expectantly. No one raised their hands. He seemed displeased.
“Then I suppose I’ll have to start calling on people.”
God you hated those words, they aroused a familiar sinking feeling in your belly.
“Hmm,” he hummed softly as he looked down at the list of names on his desk.
Not me, not me, not me—
“Miss Selbo?”
You could feel the relief wash over as the girl next to you was instead picked.
This torture was repeated over and over, he’d write a new problem on the board then pick someone else to solve it in front of the class. With each person called on the more your anxiety rose. There was no use in praying now, you were bound to be picked soon.
“Miss y/n?” He called your name, looking at you expectantly.
Your mouth ran dry as you stood up, slowly approaching the front of the class, ready to humiliate yourself. You looked up at Mr. Afton as he silently handed you the chalk. You stared at the board for a moment, twiddling the piece of chalk between your fingers hoping the answer would miraculously pop into you mind. letting out a soft sigh you wrote out the best solution you could come up with.
As you finished, you placed the chalk down on the metal rim and turned to look at Mr. Afton sheepishly. His eyes going from you to the board.
“Incorrect. Return to your seat, miss y/n.” He said flatly and quickly erased your answer from the board. You walked back to your desk feeling embarrassed.
He just continued on with the next problem while you sat there in your chair feeling like an idiot. What’s worse is that it felt like everyone else seemed to be remembering the concept just fine. Staring down at the picked skin of your cuticles beneath the table, you felt a sense of dread wash over you.
Eventually the bell rung and everyone began to pack away their things.
“Class dismissed, I’ll see you all on Wednesday.” Mr. Afton called out as he wiped the board clean.
The lingering sense of dread weighed on you as you stood last in line to file out the classroom with the rest of your peers. You couldn’t help but peek over your shoulder to catch a last glimpse of Mr. Afton. When you turned to look, he was already staring right at you with an intense gaze you weren’t expecting. It forced your eyes away.
Walking down the halls you could feel the light heat rush to your cheeks. You felt so stupid.