Shay was used to going in and out of the teacher’s lounge. As the Student Council President, she was summonable, at-will.
The messy center table took up most of the room-- four long tables, pushed together. There was a stack of forgotten tests on one, the top red-markered with a 92. A paper-cutter sat on a corner, surrounded by slivers of paper-junk not yet thrown away.
Hah. The windows were still unlocked. They were on the second-floor, so why would anyone think to lock them?
Shay couldn’t help but think of Tyvan.
Even the chair that Miss Ansari was sitting on-- it was the same chair that he put Andy to sleep in.
And where was Andy?
Was he even still alive?
Miss Ansari pulled up a second chair, gesturing for Shay to sit.
“Shay... I’m worried about you,” she said.
“I’m fine,” Shay lied.
Miss Ansari was a beautiful teacher, her medium-length, dark hair swept stylishly to the side. Her brown eyes stared with seriousness, marked with stress lines suggesting that her job wasn't as easy as some people thought.
And... a dull-gold, three-layered chain hung on her neck.
Shay didn’t like the look of it. Did Tyvan buy her that? That’s what boyfriends do-- buy shiny, pretty things for their girlfriends to flaunt.
“I noticed you didn’t look so great on Friday,” Miss Ansari said, “but, since then, your work’s been affected. And not just in English, but your other subjects have been suffering too.”
Shay sighed in annoyance. “I’ve... had trouble concentrating lately.”
Miss Ansari took a breath...
“As a teacher, I’m really not supposed to delve...”
Shay rolled her eyes. If that was true, then why was she wasting both of their time?
“Did something happen with your friends at school?” Miss Ansari asked.
Shay found herself shaking her head, laughing through her nose.
What friends?
The only person she talked to at school was Aquila.
Shay had paid her back for the fake ID and her busted camera. Those were transactions. Talking to her-- actually talking to her like she would a friend wasn’t something they really did.
“Something at... home, then?” Miss Ansari said, “Is Tyvan being hard on you at work?”
Ugh.
TyVanNn~
Shay. hated. hearing that name coming out of Miss Ansari’s mouth. There was something about the way she said it. It made her skin crawl and her fingers and toes curl up.
Shay pursed her lips...
“Did he... say anything about me?”
Miss Ansari smiled warmly, her eyes bright.
“He told me he hired a student as a part-timer. And that just so happened to be someone I enjoy teaching.” She leaned forward. “And I told him that she’s a very hard worker, that she’s the picture-perfect role model for all her peers, and that he’s very lucky to have her.”
Shay felt her stomach twist with guilt. All her thoughts were just so negative... but Miss Ansari was being nothing but kind and considerate.
Just like Heidi...
Just like Yeonha... maybe.
“I’m sorry,” Shay muttered.
“I didn’t call you to scold you,” Miss Ansari said. “I may be a teacher, but I’m human too. I get worried sometimes.”
“Being human sucks,” Shay replied-- too fast and laced with too much emotion for her image.
Miss Ansari laughed at that. It wasn’t supposed to be funny. Maybe it actually was, though. It wasn’t something regular people were bothered by.
“You’ve been hanging around Tyvan too much. But even though he’s like that, he’s human too. He has his own emotions and frustrations and things he deals with that just make him want to run away from everything.”
Shay pursed her lips.
Were they thinking of the same person?
Or... did Miss Ansari not know?
“I... don’t think Tyvan’s afraid of anything,” Shay said.
Miss Ansari lifted up her arm, patting her bicep, “He’s afraid of me.”
“You, Miss Ansari?” Shay laughed. That was clearly a joke. But to hear it-- just like that? It was insulting.
Tyvan-- the basically expressionless Tyvan? He faced off against Dajik and the Arrow Group without as much as a frown. The real joke was that a 30-something-year-old, middle-aged high school teacher actually thought she could faze him.
“He’s... very kind,” Miss Ansari said softly. “And, you know what? He falls in love far too easily. He’s... so pure-- and I worry about him so much.”
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Shay stopped smiling. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed tight-- and by an ugly, gold-plated chain.
“He loves food,” Miss Ansari said, “even though I told him he wouldn’t like Indian curry, he still wanted to try it. And he likes playing games... even though he usually never wins.”
Shay knew those things too. She learned about them in horrible ways that she didn’t want to think about.
Miss Ansari pursed her lips and took a breath, “So... I guess I need to say it.”
She sat up straight, gazing into her eyes, “Miss Yan... respectfully... stay away from my boyfriend.”
Shay...
just...
stared.
Then...... she was furious.
How dare Miss Ansari say something like that?!
She didn’t know the first thing about Tyvan! She only knew what he was like on the surface! She actually thought he was human??
In retrospect, it was so obvious he wasn’t. His hotness traNscEndeD mere humanity!!
“I’m serious, Miss Yan,” Miss Ansari warned. “You may be my favorite student, but I won’t let you take my Tyvan away from me.”
“What do you know?” Shay snapped, “How can he even like someone like you, when you’re only-- you’re only...”
She growled in frustration.
She stood up. She bowed politely.
And even though Miss Ansari called after her, Shay stormed out of the faculty room.
People saw her-- some teachers, other afterschool students.
She was too angry to care.
--too angry to worry about any weird rumors that would screw up her reputation as a perfect teacher’s pet.
Miss Ansari didn’t know anything.
And it was best that she didn’t.
----------------------------------------
Tyvan Valorum had been in a difficult mood for the past week.
He didn’t allow it to affect his general professionalism, but in the moments between, he... preferred to keep to himself.
Yet there was one person he was looking forward to seeing...
--the most wonderful person in his current world, their very presence capable of liberating him from any degree of despondency without fail.
Tyvan gulped... and he cupped his hand on the pizza delivery boy’s face.
“It heartens me greatly to meet with you once again. Thou art a paragon of punctuality and diligence, noble friend."
The young man rendered a smile, yet uncertain. Yet it should not have been so. He should have been proud-- a pride to his ancestors, a pride to his sacred craft!
“You uh... tell me that every week, Mister V.”
“And every week,” Tyvan clapped the gentleman on the shoulder, “you rightfully earn my sincere and utmost gratitude.”
He spent another minute showering the boy with praise. Then, he carried the boxes of pizza and bags of honey-glazed chicken wings and extra-buttery breadsticks to the table in his apartment.
Ah. It seemed he forgot to order the salad.
Briar Rose was going to have to partake in proper victuals, else she’d go hungry.
That evening, he was entertaining her and her brother, Bishop. He also expected Empress to join, as was common for her.
The phone on the kitchen counter rang. Briar Rose answered dutifully, despite her being off-hours.
“Boss, it’s Esha,” she said.
Tyvan looked to her. He glanced to the table and its plates and dinner mats and open boxes of steaming deliciousness.
“It sounds important?” Briar Rose urged.
Ugh.
As such, it was inappropriate to converse in the living area.
“Ask her to hold. I’ll take the call in my room.”
It was a precarious situation.
He needed to resolve Esha’s issues before Bishop was tempted to eat more than his share.
He jogged to the corridor and rounded the corner.
--where he discovered his apartment’s idea of a joke.
Instead of the two doors he was accustomed to, he found six.
But as time was of the essence, he chose to act rather than argue.
First door: underground swimming pool.
Second door: the archery range?
Third door: the door to Empress’ bedroom-- which was in a completely different apartment and on the floor above.
She turned from her computer desk and adjusted her glasses, lovely, as always.
“Tyvan. Is the food here?”
“Good evening,” Tyvan smiled, kind and courteous. “It is.”
“I’ll be there in like... two minutes.”
“Very well.”
He closed the door thrice as politely as he opened it...
--fourth door: half-bath!
Fifth door, the accursed roof??
Final door, the-- the indoor running circuit?
Tyvan immediately began sprinting the 400 metres. Every second wasted was potentially another chicken wing LOST!
He kicked open the door at the end of the field, finally entering the threshold of his personal room.
Aha!
He snatched the phone off the receiver, “Esha!”
“Tyvan? ...Wh-why do you sound out of breath?” she asked.
Tyvan took two deep breaths, recollecting himself...
“Someone was playing a trick on me. But I will have my recompense.”
He glared at his door and it visibly shuddered-- as was proper.
“Anyway, Tyvan-- why haven’t you called?” Esha asked.
Tyvan closed his eyes. That was a difficult question to explain, considering what he could and could not say. He opted for the diplomatic approach.
“I’ve been... actively engaged, these past two weeks.”
“You don’t even sound sorry,” Esha whined, “I know you’re always busy... but I still want to see you. It’s been forever.”
Tyvan smiled to himself. A scant few weeks was a minuscule drop of time over the course of decades and centuries, much less ‘forever.’
“It hasn’t been nearly that long. Shall we schedule an outing this weekend?”
“Can it just be us, this time?” Esha asked, “I don’t mind hanging out with your secretary or your neighbor sometimes, but... Oh-- and I hope you weren’t thinking of bringing Shay.”