AN: PLEASE REVIEW

I carry band-aids on me now

For when your soft hands hit the jagged ground

Wheels aren't even touching the ground

Scared to take them off, but they're so worn down

Promise I won't push you straight to the dirt

If you promise me, you'll take them off first

Training Wheels / / Melanie Martinez

/ / / /

YEARS EARLIER

Harley shifted anxiously in her seat, not fully sure what to expect from this Professor. When she had told her Sorority sisters she had Professor Johnathon Crane for Psychology 101, they had gone wide-eyed and asked if she thought she could get out of the class. When she asked why they had filled her in on his persona around campus. The Fearsome Doctor Crane. A menace of a Professor, beyond strict, and no one makes it out of his class unscathed, whether it's your grade or your sanity!

Harley didn't know about all that, but she did know that he had very nice cheekbones and soft-looking hair that fell around his glasses. Glasses that magnified already incredibly beautiful blue eyes, positioned in his head like precious stones.

The Professor had made his way into the room, and a hush fell over the students, along with a smirk on the Professor's lips. It was clear he knew his own reputation and didn't mind the negative effect, Doesn't mind? He seems thrilled, Harley thought, watching the doctor smirk lightly, before stepping up to begin a lecture, going over his syllabus it seemed.

"Hello, everyone." His voice was clear and strong, and loud enough to be heard, but not yelling, or raising his voice in a traditional sense. "My name is Doctor Johnathon Crane, and I am your professor for this terribly simple Psychology 101 class, because we only had three other Psychology Professors at this Establishment, and two of them are..." he struggled with the words. "Unable to fulfill their commitment to the school."

Harley almost laughed at that, Didn't they die? What a terrible way to say they died! Harley had never shied away from a dark sense of humor, however, and felt a small smirk hit her mouth, one which matched the Professors.

"Due to this, I have agreed to teach a class of freshmen. This does not mean you will not abide by my rules. This does not mean I will become lenient with you. This does not mean that this class has become a free period. If anything, you may wish to drop this class now. I will be as aggressive with this curriculum as I am with the more advanced version, If you are not serious about this subject, I suggest you go see your advisor immediately."

At least fifteen people made their way to the door, leaving Harleen in the room alone with the Professor and only eight other students.

His narrowed as he surveyed the brave few, and Harley's heart skipped a beat when those Ice Blue eyes settled on hers, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks, unbidden.

His head tilted slightly, before he spun, and made his way to the blackboard to begin his lecture, explaining the curriculum that would be covered this semester, his attendance policy, strict but fair, and ending the class by assigning a reading and an assignment. allowing the students to pick their first assignment, which was to get them comfortable in the class, and allow Dr. Crane to accurately identify where their writing ability sat at this point, to help him know to what degree he would be suffering this semester.

"I want you to choose one novel, or short story, with either an unreliable narrator, or a mentally ill narrator, and I want you to examine them and if possible, try to make a care plan for them. Next week I want a paper on this little project, along with your personalized fictional care plan." He cleared his throat and spoke louder. "You may treat this as the soft-toss assignment it is, but know, our working relationship for this class will be determined by your grade on this paper, this paper is my truffle-pig for talent and passion. Turn in something that leaves a fatty-film on my teeth, from the drab and flab you inject into it, and you will be in for a bad semester."

He began shuffling papers on his desk. "You may leave now."

Harley stood, eying the man's hair, and downturned face, he looked pensive, his cheekbones are impressive from this angle too.

A blush, not as strong as the last one, rose to her cheeks and she considered staying after class to meet him, introduce herself, and hear his voice again, but knew that looking like a suck-up with a Professor this strict was not a good look.

Without noticing she became the last in the classroom, and all the other students were scared stiff of the Professor.

He glanced up from his desk, ice-blue eyes meeting hers again. Harley would not hear the phrase Bedroom Eyes for another three years after this, but when she did she would think of no one but Crane. The way his eyes whispered to Harley that he could make her feel things her misguided incompetent, fumblings with boys her own age would never bring her.

Crane was confused. A blonde freshman was staring at him. Pretty enough, big baby blue eyes, pouty lips, clearly sticky with gloss, even from his viewpoint across the room, hair in a sleek ponytail, and dressed in a baby pink blouse, paired with a pair of high-waisted trousers, in a different, yet entirely complimentary shade of pink. She certainly dresses like a character, Crane thought with a smirk.

Nearly the second the smirk takes its place on his lips, she darted to the door, with more vigor than the rest of the rodents in Cranes class combined. More than likely afraid, Crane mused, rolling his eyes. They all are.

/ / / / / /

Back in her room, Harley worked on deep breathing, and tried to get the shape of the Professors lips out of her mind, digging out her art supplies she began sketching before she fully knew what she was sketching. Harley had enjoyed art her entire life, often told her taste is rather dark, or frightening, she began keeping her sketches and paintings to herself, for the most part. A woman took shape beneath Harley pencil, an acrobat, dressed in a dark leotard, hair pinned up, and looking intensely professional, outside of her wailing face, and leg twisted in the wrong direction.

"That's fucking disturbing," Pam said, with a faux concerned look on her face.

Harley Jumped, "Jesus H, I need to get you a bell."

The two friends laughed, Pam, flopping down onto her bed across from Harley's. "If you aren't so invested in your torture porn drawings, maybe you would be better at minding your surroundings." Pam reached for her pipe, grinder and stash.

"What were you thinking about?" Pam said, emptying flower into her grinder. "I hardly ever see you draw except when something bothers you. Spill."

Harley snorted, reaching into her purse for a cigarette. "More like what I'm not thinking about." She grumbled, flicking her lighter to life, and lighting up.

Pam's nose wrinkled. "I don't know how you smoke those things."

Harley snorted again, gesturing to her pipe, "As if I'm gonna take that from you, I don't see how you handle the smell."

"Anyway, what are you avoiding thinking about?" Pam said while finishing her pipe preparations.

"I think I have a crush on my professor."

Pam smiled wryly. "Ah, that's fair enough, which one? I know there's that hunky history Professor, running around campus, and if it's him, I have to say, I saw him first." Pam went to take a hit.

Harley Hesitated before answering. "Professor Crane."

She fell into a coughing fit immediately, pounding her chest, eyes wide and staring as she coughed.

After swigging the water she kept on her nightstand Pam turned to look at Harley again.

"That's not fucking funny."

"I'm not joking."

Pam sat back, giving Harley a once over. "So, is that your type then? Scary older guys?"

Harley squirmed uncomfortably, "No, I don't think so. He's just. Hot. In a kind of Dark Academia kind of way."

Pam nodded slowly. "Well. I mean. Who am I to judge."

Harley laughed. "Pam, you have to promise not to tell anyone!"

Pam grinned. "I would say that this is too juicy to keep a secret, but I don't want people knowing I associate with someone with such taboo ideas of what's 'hot'."

Harley threw a pillow at her.

"Oh! I nearly forgot! Are you coming to the Opening Party at Delta Sigma Alpha tonight? I hear Bruce Wayne is going to be there," Pam pretended to fan herself.

Harley considered "I don't know, Pam, it feels a bit early in the year to be partying."

Pam shook her head. "No, no, no. You're thinking about this all wrong. This is the perfect time to party because there are no essays due tomorrow, no finals, and no stress! We should enjoy it while we can!"

Harley laughed, considering again, looking at her redheaded friend who's lower lip had jutted out, along with her hands coming up to her own chin, clasped in a pleading gesture.

"Alright! Fine." Harley grinned, "I'll be there."

Pam grinned back. "Perfect! You'll have a blast, you'll see!" Pam turned, leaving their room to shower.

"Oh!" She said as if tossing the word over her shoulder. "It's a costume party by the way, so be ready for that." She finished as she closed the door behind her.

A costume party? Who wears costumes at our age? Thought Harley with a derisive snort, after Pam had left. Oh, well, when in Rome.