#maybe ten

You’re out of breath and confused, and anxiety is beginning to bubble up in your chest. You’ve been walking around the area for more than half an hour - darting between buildings and scrutinizing your surroundings - to no avail. You’d left twenty minutes early in preparation of needing to locate the building your class would be held in, but you were still going to be late.

You’d printed out the map and directions provided by the school, and you had google open on your phone! And you were still lost - though not according to any of your resources.

According to the school map, there should be a building in front of you, and not inconsequential in size: made of dusty brown brick, with industrial windows lining the exterior. But you see no such thing. It’s even more baffling, because according to google, you were right where you were meant to be.

You glance around again, and scoff. You’re standing in the middle of a bricked crossroads, in the center of the campus’ older quad - the vintage sector, as some liked to call it. You’d been running willy nilly around the same area for the last four years, both attending classes and sneaking around after parties, and never, in your entire time of being there, had such a building existed.

“Pardon me?”

A quiet voice behind you startles you out of your thoughts. So badly, in fact, that your phone flies out of your hand and lands face-down on the concrete with a sad thunk.

Immediately, the man behind you starts to apologize, but you just stare at your phone for a second before reaching down to grab it.

“It’s fine,” you say, blowing a little bit of dust off the screen. “I’ve repaired and upgraded this stupid thing like eleven times now. If it’s not bulletproof, then I clearly need to keep working on it.” You glance up at him with a reassuring smile, showing him the unharmed device while you get a good look at him.

He’s cute, you decide. Tall, slender, with soft-looking hair and the kind of warm, brown eyes that you’d always been a sucker for.

“You didn’t get my attention for nothing, though.” you continue, “Was there something I could help you with?”

The man seems to come out of his own thoughts, and takes a couple steps closer to you.

“The opposite, actually,” he says, his gaze darting down to the map in your hands. “You seem lost. I thought I might be able to offer directions, if you need?”

Your shoulder sag in relief, and you’re quick to show the somewhat-crinkled, blurry image to the kind stranger, who regards it with a miffed expression.

“Ah, I’ve been saying for years that the maps of the science quadrant need to be updated. You’re one of Professor Heimerdinger’s students, no?”

Your smile further widens, and you nod.

“If you’ll follow me, then. I can take you there,” he says, and starts off in a direction that you’d walked several times before.

You debate going after him, since surely it would be of no consequence to you…but a tiny voice in the back of your mind encourages you to wait.

The man pauses about ten feet from you, and turns back when he isn’t able to hear your footsteps. You fidget a little bit under his gaze, even though you don’t feel particularly judged or scrutinized. You’re even about to offer an explanation, when a look of realization suddenly dawns across the man’s face.

He immediately comes back to you, digging around in his pockets along the way. By the time he comes to a stop at your side, he’s already producing his student identification card, as well as his teachers aide ID.

“My name is Viktor,” he explains, as you study the cards he’s given you. “I’m Professor Heimerdinger’s assistant, and one of his teaching aides.”

You nod, pleased with not only the information you’ve garnered, but also his willingness to give it to you.

“Sorry,” you tell him, handing his items back to him. “It’s not that you seem untrustworthy or anything like that. You just… can’t be too careful, y’know?”

When Viktor starts walking again, you’re quick to follow.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he promises. “Our campus is safer than most, but I have… heard horror stories. As you said, one cannot be too careful.”

Your heart warms a little at his understanding, and you keep pace at his side instead of trailing just behind him.

You chat idly with him as you walk past buildings you’d seen dozens of times, asking him about his school life and what he found enjoyable about teaching. Eventually you start to pass buildings you’d never seen before, but he walks with purpose and familiarity; even when the little voice in the back of your head springs up again, you’re quick to quiet it down and continue following.

The pair of you round the corner of an old lecture hall, and you pause. There, nestled in amongst shrubs and ivy, is the building you’ve been searching for.

“What the hell is it doing all the way over here?” you ask, not of anyone in particular. “Did they just- pick it up and move it???”

Viktor answers with a quiet huff that you’re pretty sure is a laugh, and says, “Yes, actually.” Leaving you to flounder for a couple seconds in surprise before darting to catch up to him.

“You know,” he says again, “I am surprised you haven’t asked me about Heimerdinger’s teaching methods yet.”

The two of you come to a stop outside a heavy metal door, with a keypad and card reader set up beside it.

“You are aware of his reputation amongst the student body, no?”

You watch as he pulls out one of the cards he’d shown you earlier, and swipes it through the reader to unlock the door.

“I’ve heard everything by now,” you reply, helping him tug the door open enough for the two of you to slip inside. “The stories get more convoluted every year - like failing entire classes on multiple occasions, and having the highest dropout rates among the entire faculty.”

“And yet, you do not seem to have any worries?”

The hallway Viktor leads you down is one of the most nauseating spaces you’ve ever been. Worn linoleum flooring, and faded yellowish walls with a multitude of cracks, water stains, and the occasional cobweb. With a crinkle of your nose, you ask, “Do you meet many fifth-year physics students who are willing to believe information without checking the facts first?”

“You would be surprised.”

“It’s a miracle they haven’t been weeded out by now,” you sigh, realizing that you’re definitely going to have to cope with annoying classmates. “Since you asked, though, I don’t like to leave my decision-making up to other people - I’d rather try something first, and discover for myself that it’s not working out.”

As you and Viktor near a modern, out-of-place-looking door at the end of the hall, he asks, “What if everyone around you says that your tribulations would end in failure? Would you still try?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately, and honestly.

Viktor seems pleased with your answer, though he doesn’t voice his thoughts; a quirk of an eyebrow and the barest hint of a smile is all he gives you.

“Plus,” you say, amplifying the mischief in your tone as you push open the door to the small lecture hall. “I had Heimerdinger in my second year. I’m well aware that he can be a hardass at times, but he’s a good teacher, and I learned a lot from him.”

You gently trail your hand over Viktor’s arm as you pass him - a friendly gesture to anyone who might be watching - and give him your cheekiest smirk. You manage to catch the slight widening of his eyes, as well as the near-immediate pink that dusts his cheeks, and you’ve definitely decided: he’s cute as hell.

—

The rest of the class goes off without a hitch, and is about what you expected it would be: it’s a three-hour class, and you’re more than grateful that you don’t have any other sessions scheduled on the same days. The syllabus seems hefty - although still doable - and you know for a fact that your stress levels are going to be through the roof throughout the semester.

You know that the workload is only to discourage students who aren’t serious about learning the material, but it still seems an ineffective way to rule out unmotivated individuals. You were still there, after all, and you were five years in.

At one point, Heimerdinger steps out of the room to make a phonecall, and leaves Viktor to continue speaking on his behalf. Explaining expectations that everyone will have implemented on them, as well as writing down and iterating office hours and contact information.

At one point, when Viktor’s gaze falls on you for the umpteenth time, you shoot him a coy smile, and delight in the way his face lights up pink again. 

Such a sight keeps your spirits up as the professor returns to the lecture hall, and announces your first assignment.

—

You stand up in your seat after everything is finished for the day, stretching with a pleased squeak, until your spine cracks and you’re able to breathe again. It doesn’t take long to pack up your things, as they currently only consist of a notebook, a binder, and a bunch pf pretty-coloured pens, but by the time you’re heading towards the door, most of your classmates are already gone.

“Ah, Y/N?”

You pause mid-step when you hear the soft lilt, and turn towards Viktor.

“Yes?” you wonder sweetly, and move a little closer to him.

It’s as if your very presence is flustering him, with the way he starts and stops his sentences several times. “That’s technically the staff entrance,” he finally manages, “It was closer than walking around the rest of the building, earlier, since there’s a fence blocking the shorter route to the main exits, and class was about to start-”

You wait patiently while he collects himself.

“All this to say; you would get in trouble, if you were to be caught in the wrong place.”

Your eyes quickly flick towards the Professor, who is thankfully in the middle of an animated conversation with a pair of other students.

“I don’t mind a little bit of trouble,” you say cheekily, slinking closer to him until you’re nearly touching. “It’s always more exciting to be somewhere off-limits, isn’t it?”

Viktor looks like he might combust if you take your flirtations any further, so you continue, “Besides, I don’t actually know where the proper entrance is.”

You note the way his shoulders droop slightly - though you’re not able to tell if it’s from relief or disappointment - as he begins to rattle off directions.

“You’ve seen how terrible I am with directions, Viktor.” You’re unable to help yourself, entirely enticed by his sweet reactions to your instigations. “Maybe you could show me? If it’s not too much trouble?”

—

Once the two of you are outside again, you take a deep breath of fresh air. The lecture hall itself wasn’t terrible, even if it was old, but the hallways were vile in everything that they were - from the colour of the walls, down to the distant stench of stale lysol.

“Thank you, Viktor,” you tell him, “I’d still be wandering around in there if not for you. Like some weird variation of the Backrooms.”

He looks puzzled for a moment, before shaking his head. “It’s nothing. It’s my job as one of your teachers to make sure you’re learning as much as you can.”

“That includes the layout of the building?”

“Yes,” he confirms, and the smile he gives you makes the butterflies in your stomach start fluttering.

You stand there for a couple moments, neither of you really sure how to say goodbye for the day, unsure if you even want to go your separate ways yet.

“Hey, do you have a phone?” you ask suddenly, and Viktor nods.

“I do,” he says, pulling the little device from his pocket to show you. “Why?”

You make grabby hands towards it. “Unlock it, so I can add my contact information.”

If you thought he’d been blushing earlier in the day, you’d have been sorely mistaken. His face erupts in red the moment he comprehends your request, and he looks as though he’s become acutely aware of the fact that he has hands.

Adorable, you think to yourself.

“I’m in off-campus housing, and most days, the internet is pretty spotty,” you explain, taking pity on his slightly-panicked state. “I…don’t really want to have to walk twenty minutes to the nearest starbucks to send an email saying I won’t be attending class. Or to ask a tiny question that doesn’t warrant an office-visit.”

Viktor nods quickly, as if you hadn’t just pulled your reasoning out of your butt - your internet was, in fact, fantastic - and hands you his phone.

You, in return, hand him yours, and the two of you quickly punch in your info. You decide to keep yours professional, despite how you’ve been teasing him throughout the day, and make sure to add your class details in the event that he forgets who you are.

You still put a smiley face at the end of your name, though.

When you hand your phones back to each other, Viktor finally bids you a good afternoon, and disappears back into the building. Your heart flutters again, and you find yourself suppressing a childish, giddy smile. You knew for a fact that it was against the rules for teaching assistants to have relationships with students from the classes they were teaching, not to mention it was a social taboo.