You are Wilbur’s favourite student. Your little smile, how you always listens to his lessons, your hair, your braces, your innocent eyes. Everything about you is so perfect and beautiful.

Today you were talking in class. Or, really just asking for a pencil. But you didn't know he knew that. It was his opportunity to get you to stay after class.

When the last bell rings, the rest of his students pack up and walk out, eager to go home. You stay’s in your seat, preparing for him to scold you. You listen so well.

“So,” Wilbur starts, folding his hand over your desk. “Why were you talking during my valuable teaching time?” He asked, pretending to be condescending.