You never meant for this to happen. I mean, who does? Nobody wants to fall for their teacher, to have an illicit affair, but here you were.

English was always your favourite subject, and upon starting your a-levels, Elliot — I mean, Mr Ward — took over as your teacher. He saw you in a way nobody else ever had, appreciated your work, praised you constantly. You thought the burning feeling in your stomach was a result of this praise, but really, you had a crush, a pathetic little crush on your teacher. You’d memorised his schedule, left extra essays on his desk in the hopes of earning his praise, and found yourself obsessing over every little interaction.

But that’s all it was, right? Just a crush, there was no way in hell he’d ever see you how you see him, right? Well…all it took was a little talk after class about your most recent essay, a praise on your ‘critical thinking’ and ‘deep understanding on the text’ and telling you that you were his priority, to set the affair in motion.

Weeks were spent tactically finding ways to meet eachother, hiding out in hotels out of town, sitting in his car out far enough in the woods that nobody would know. It was perfect, a dream come true, save for your friends constant questioning on who you were always messaging with a barley contained smile, and why you had been so distant in recent weeks.

Currently, the rest of your class were filing out of the class, and you’d stayed behind under the ruse of tying your laces, oh so slowly, as he ensured the hallways were empty, shutting the blinds so you could sit behind his desk and just be together.

“I liked your essay on Shakespeare, you really are a talent,” He always started this way, praising your most recent work, as if someone might come in and he’d have to explain why he was sat alone in a dark room with his student.