I saw her again today. My favourite student. An interesting girl, with (H/L) (H/C) hair and an alluring smile that makes you question what hardships she had to go through to get to where she is now. But even when she's not happy, or when she looks befuddled, or has a bad hair day, I still find her undeniably charming. However, this confuses me. Never before have I taken such interest in another life form for something other than observation or motives of experimentation. I mean, of course I may have had some wild daydreams - fantasies, even - of the possible experiments that I could conduct on her, but that is not the only thing that draws me to her like a moth to light or an ant to honey. It only makes me wonder why and how such a small and delicate specimen can do this to me. She doesn't even seem to take any interest in me whatsoever, but this fact only intrigues me more so.

She seems to be unfazed by anything and is as non-judgemental as a saint. I've never heard her talk badly of anyone, when really, she is the only person I know who has the right to, seems as she is the only person I know who is as close to perfection as she is. The way I sound so cliché is actually disgusting to me, but I can't help it. This is how I honestly feel… though I'll forever ponder how such a person is the one to make me feel like this. She is my most desired test subject.

You walked into your science classroom. As usual, you were the first one there, but your teacher never seemed to mind, despite you entering without his permission, because he was never there before you. He didn't exactly make a habit of telling people off, although you weren't complaining. Your science teacher was probably one of the most quirky and memorable people you knew, with a strange obsession with dissection. Many rumours followed him around, but you chose not to take heed of any of them. They went from deranged to simply impossible, and there was never any evidence to back up these incognito accusations. They were all rather childish, in your opinion.

You sat at your desk and removed your bag from around you, taking out your exercise book and pen. As soon as your bag hit the floor, you heard the door open as your teacher entered. His glasses glinted in the harsh lighting, and you could see the shine of his felinesque eyes. He always had an expression of something similar to amusement plastered to his face, and he wore a playful grin almost constantly, as if the students were his pet mice and he had them all caged up, anticipating their next movements, although he knows they are very limited. You found him distinguished, and interesting; with his stitched lab coat and facial scar that lay under his left eye, with stitches that were most probably needled through his flesh by his own hand; and the way he always smelt of bleach and antibacterial hand wash, with the strong scent of nicotine that he had tried ever so desperately to conceal. It was no secret that your teacher was a hardcore chain smoker; you wondered how he even managed to get through a lesson without lighting up a cigarette.

He smiled at you briefly and gave a small nod of acknowledgement in your direction, sitting down on his computer chair, and resting his legs over his desk unprofessionally, just like he always did. He looked so relaxed, and never seemed to care what people thought of him, whether it was as a teacher or a person in general. He was a free soul who just did what he wanted, when he wanted. That was also why most of your lessons entailed dissection, or studying dissection, or writing essays on dissection, or printing off posters you'd made about dissection, or doing comprehension on dissection. You wondered how he even got away with it, but the faculty seemed too… afraid to object to his teaching methods.

"Sir, why do we always study dissection?" You asked him. He froze, and he looked even more dead than usual.

"Do you not like it?" He asked, tilting his head to the side in question. You shook your head in response.
"No, sir, it's nothing like that. It's just that, I feel like we should be doing about more things than just dissection in our biology lessons." Stein begins to click his pen uncertainly, as he ponders what you have just said.

"…Perhaps you are right." His voice does not have its usual cheer, but something else. He is genuinely considering a suggestion from someone other than himself, about what he teaches. Never would anyone who knew Stein personally believe they'd live to know the day this peculiar event occurred. "What would you prefer to learn instead, (Y/N)?"

You shrugged half-heartedly. "I'm not too sure, if I'm honest… but other biology-related things sound good."

"You think so, huh?" He asked, the top of his pen now pressed against the bottom of his chin. "You know, that's not a bad idea. After all, with a teacher as great as me, everyone is sure to know everything that they could possibly know about dissection by now." He chuckled slightly after this statement, but you couldn't tell if it was out of confidence or self ridicule.