I make no claim to the ownership of The Good Place.
Enjoy!
She hated his woolen oh-I'm-so-smart-and-academic vests. She hated his extensive turtleneck collection. She hated his Clark Kent glasses. She hated the way he could ramble on and on and on about Rawls'-that is, some stupid philosophical theory. She hated the way he leaned over her when he was angry but trying not to show it. She hated the way his eyebrows flew upward when he said absolutism. She hated how wide his eyes would go when he was shocked or scared, and his proud look when he saw her applying what she'd learned in class.
She hated his strong, smooth hands scrawling messily on the chalkboard. She hated how he never made fun of her for being ignorant. She hated the how she felt like paying attention when he talked. She hated how good he made her feel, as though she was actually worth giving a fork about.
He was perfect. She had to hate him.
Or at least, everything related to him.
She hated his stupid obsessive soulmate, who just wouldn't give him a rest. She hated how scared he was of her posessiveness. She hated how insecure he got around her. She hated the look in his eyes when he spoke about going home at the end of class.
She hated how protective she felt about him. As if he was her little nerd. She hated how all she wanted was his hand in hers, his eyes clear and free of doubt, making that silly open mouthed I'm-so-happy-I-would-scream-but-I'm-super-ethical-about-people's-hearing expression that she lov-
He wasn't hers to take. On earth, that wouldn't have stopped her. But an ethics professor was the last person who'd appreciate the moves she usually pulled.
So that left... acceptance. Acceptance of loss and an empty heart and longing during long afternoon classes when only the thought that she'd miss seeing Chidi kept her from dropping into sleep. She was...used to it.
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