Ozzy woke up to the familiar sound of Drix softly humming at his desk, something that would only be slightly annoying on a normal day, but right now it made Ozzy feel incandescent with rage.

His irritating mumbling, the infernal scribbling in his notepad, the infuriating turning of page after page as he read through his textbook. If Ozzy wasn't so paralytically, helplessly hungover, he'd surely leap out of bed, grab the heaviest object within arm's reach and beat Drix to death right there and then.

He peeled his heavy eyelids open, which he then immediately regretted, the fluorescent light from above piercing his corneas like a white-hot blade.

Then, the headache hit him; a hot, pounding, all encompassing throb, while the waves of swirling nausea continued to gradually build within him with every painful passing second.

He groaned and tried to swallow, but his mouth was far too dry. He felt as if he'd been chewing on some cat litter and then washed it down with a big glass of sand, before scraping his tongue across somebody's old hairbrush.

He tilted his head back and weakly flailed an arm about in the air as he called out for Drix's help, his prior loathing quickly melting away to be replaced with a desperate need to be taken care of.

He winced when he heard the desk chair scrape across the floor and lifted his head slightly to look up at Drix.

"Ah, I wondered when you'd wake up from your drunken coma. How do you feel?"

Ozzy only grunted in response and let his head fall back down into the pillow. He reached out and grabbed onto Drix's wrist, desperate for something to ground him and stop the room from spinning. "What… what happened?"

Drix sat down on his bed, causing it to creak under his weight, and patted Ozzy on the head. "You disappeared for about forty-five minutes, and once you came back you kept yelling about how you were the king of Frank, then you drank God knows how many shots of Limon-cell-o, before rubbing yourself up against the largest bouncer at the club and almost getting into a fight with him when he refused to dance with you."

Ozzy groaned as he dared to sit up and rubbed his eyes with his palms. "Shit, I don't remember any of that. I didn't do anything embarrassing, did I?"

"What, apart from literally everything I just mentioned?"

"Nah, that's just normal night out stuff. Disappearing for a bit and then getting absolutely blottoed is to be expected, ain't it?"

"And what about sexually assaulting a male member of staff?"

"Ohh well, I was probably just too blind drunk to notice that it was a guy, wasn't I?!"

He slowly turned around on the bed and swung his legs over the side, before bringing his hands up to massage his temples. "No, but seriously, did I do anything, like, really stupid? I've got this itchy feelin' in my brain like I did something bad."

"You really don't remember?"

Ozzy raised his head and stared at Drix through squinted, bloodshot eyes. "Oh, c'mon man, I feel like death here. Just put me out of my misery so I can crawl back into bed."

Drix sighed and placed a hand on Ozzy's shoulder, squeezing slightly. "You… oh boy, I don't quite know how to put this", he said in a low voice, shutting his eyes, "when you came back after disappearing for a while, you told me that you had… broken into Professor Roja's office."

Ozzy's eyes opened wide. "Wha…? No… no!" He shook his head and raised his voice as he continued, "I wouldn't do that… would I?! That's psychotic!"

"Not to mention suicidal…"

"Yeah, thanks for that!" He grabbed onto Drix's arm, his eyes desperate. "Oh my God, Drips! Why would I do something so fuckin' stupid?!"

"Ahem, well… that's not even the half of it. You also told me that while you were trespassing in his office, you covered his belongings in aluminium foil, you know, his books, pens, notepads…"

Ozzy's mouth fell open. He looked straight ahead, staring off into space as he started nervously fiddling with the bedsheets. "I'm a dead man… he's gonna know it was me for sure. It's so obvious!"

Drix said nothing and simply squeezed his shoulder again, before standing back up and heading to the door. "I'll go buy you a bottle of water. Lay back down and… try not to think about it!", he said in an attempt to cheer Ozzy up, knowing full well that it was pointless.

"He really is stupid sometimes", Drix mumbled to himself as he left the room, leaving Ozzy alone with his thoughts.

Ozzy lay back down on the bed, the soft pillow beneath his head bringing absolutely zero comfort to him right now. What the fuck possessed me…?

His mind started to race as small fragments of the night came back to him. He remembered leaving the bar, running around from shop to shop as he tried to find some aluminium foil, sneaking over to the science block… Oh God, I really did do it, didn't I?!

He curled up into a little ball and covered his face with his hands. I'm so dead! Why the fuck did I do that?!

He dug his nails into his forehead and groaned loudly. Come to think of it, why had he gone to all that effort? He'd already evened the score with the professor in the previous class, and there was literally no need to keep going after him past that point. Why hadn't he just quit while he was ahead?

He curled up tighter and hugged his legs to his chest as more memories returned to him. He gasped as he suddenly remembered Lucy, the stunningly gorgeous girl who was practically begging for Ozzy to come home with her, before he had so rudely abandoned her in the club to go prank Professor Roja.

No no no no… why would I turn that down just to go to Roja's fucking office?!

His hands then shot up to cover his mouth as he recalled something even worse.

Oh… OH.

He grabbed the pillow and pressed it to his face to muffle his screams. I was thinking of Roja while I was kissin' that girl!? I wanted to… with him?! And I wanted him to… ARGH!

He rolled about on his bed as he continued to groan into the pillow, wishing that Frank would get into some sort of horrific car accident right this second just to put an end to all of this suffering.

I don't get it. I hate him! Why was I thinking of him like that?

He tossed the pillow to the side and stared up at the ceiling as he tried to understand what was happening to him. What the hell is wrong with me, why would I- he started to think, stopping as he suddenly remembered the look that he and Professor Roja had shared during the last class.

He couldn't be imagining it, there was definitely something there, and not only from Ozzy's side.

The way the professor had pushed his hair back and flashed Ozzy the most sultry smile he had ever seen in his life, before sauntering back over to the desk, swaying his hips from side to side the whole time.

Then there were all the times he had been overly handsy with Ozzy: dragging his claw across his cheek after the first class; taking every single opportunity to get as close to him as possible; brushing his cheek against Ozzy's to whisper in his ear…

Unless… Ozzy had imagined all of that? He didn't seem to act this way with anyone else. Maybe it was all just wishful thinking on Ozzy's part.

He frowned and fisted the bedsheets by his hips. Okay, Oz, we're gonna nip this in the bud right now. You're not gay, and you're definitely not into your teacher. Just try to imagine him in the most disgusting way possible.

He shut his eyes and relaxed into the mattress below as he tried to calm his mind. Right, so first off, he's got that old man sweater that he wears literally all the time. I bet he's never washed it and it fuckin' stinks.

He chuckled to himself and put his hands behind his head. Yeah, and then when he finally does wash it, he probably doesn't even have a spare sweater, so he'd just have to stand by the washing machine shirtless, or maybe he'd lay down on the sofa while he waited, the light dancing over his toned abs and lighting up his ches- FRANK DAMNIT.

He tilted his head back and groaned. Right, focus on somethin' else. Okay, his stupid jeans… they're so obnoxious, so la-di-da… so enticingly tight around his perfect, juicy… NO!

He slapped himself on the cheek and clenched his teeth. Okay, let's try a different approach… his face, he's got a weird-ass face. Angular, smug and punchable. Yet somehow perfectly symmetrical, deliciously expressive, and those eyes… oh boy, what I wouldn't give to see him while he's… oh FUCK.

Ozzy sat up abruptly, ignoring the pounding in his head as he pushed the bedsheets onto the floor and darted into the bathroom.

He gripped onto the sides of the sink and stared at himself in the mirror. He'd been desperately, incessantly trying to push these confusing feelings down, to squash them before they could grow into something bigger, but he couldn't deny it any longer.

He took a sharp intake of breath and covered his cheeks with his hands. "I have a crush on Professor Roja!"


After taking an exceptionally cold shower, Ozzy traipsed back out into the bedroom and pulled on his old lime-green pyjama bottoms.

They were one of the only things that his mum had bought for him as a kid, and even though they were way too small and the alien pattern was almost completely faded, he just didn't have the heart to throw them away.

He flung himself down on his desk chair and held his head in his hands, groaning at the prospect of having to study while feeling so utterly, disgustingly hungover.

"Why do I do this to myself? Why do I always drink so much? Why do I get so fuckin' fixated on things and end up ruining my life? Why do I do any of the stupid, idiotic things that I do?"

After a few seconds of self-flagellation, he reached for a pen with a shaking hand and winced as the pen holder tipped and fell onto its side, the noise only causing his head to hurt even more.

He grabbed a notepad and his biology textbook, and flicked to the second module: Mitosis, division and replication.

He scrunched up his nose as he read the title. "God, so now I'm gonna have to sit there and listen to sexy mister Roja talk about boning?! Yeah, that's just what I need!"

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and tried his best to absorb as much information as he could as he read the first few paragraphs, taking copious notes and drawing mind maps just as Drix had shown him.

He was only five minutes into studying when he heard his phone buzz next to him on his desk. He pressed the home button and sighed when he saw that it was just an email, but his heart skipped a beat as soon as he read who it was from.

'As you all already know, due to a certain peer of yours, we have an exam on Monday. 9am sharp.

Professor Roja.'

Ozzy rolled his eyes. Great, he's blaming me for his temper tantrum. That'll really help my social life.

He read the email again and laughed quietly over the lack of formalities; there was no 'hello' or 'thanks', no fluffiness or subtlety. It was direct and straight to the point.

Ozzy knew full well that the professor would hit the roof if a student dared to send him an email like this, but also imagined that it couldn't be easy typing with those huge claws of his.

He sat back in his seat and allowed himself to think about what it would be like to actually date the professor. Not only were they student and teacher, but they were also physically and biologically different from each other.

That would probably cause a few issues in their relationship.

No, not probably. It would for sure.

The fact that the professor could decide to kill him at any given moment would certainly be unnerving, but God, wouldn't it be exciting?

There was something so appealing to Ozzy about being with someone who could so easily take his life, but chose not to. Someone who was cruel and heartless with everyone else, but soft and loving with him, and only him.

I wonder what it would be like to be held by him? Would he be a good hugger? His chest sure looks comfortable, and his strong arms would make you feel so… safe.

Ozzy tilted his head to the side as he continued to daydream about the professor. He stared straight ahead with a lost look in his eyes and a big goofy smile on his face, mindlessly doodling little Professor Rojas all over his notepad.


The click of the bathroom door being pushed shut woke Ozzy with a start. He turned his head and peeked at Drix with one eye open, watching as he filled his rucksack with various pens and notepads. "Dripsy, man, do you have to do that right now? It's so fuckin' early, and some of us are tryna sleep", he slurred, before turning to face the wall.

Ozzy had, once again, ignored Drix's advice to get a good night's sleep, and instead had stayed up studying until he started to see double. He'd somehow managed to get about half way through the second module, while also revising the first one for his exam today, and for the first time in his life, he felt fully prepared.

Drix jumped when he heard Ozzy's voice, and turned to face him with a frown. "I think you'll find that 8:32am is a perfectly reasonable time to be packing my rucksack. Not all of us have the pleasure of a lie-in, you know."

"What are ya talkin' about? It's not 8:30. My alarm ain't even rung yet."

Drix sighed and grabbed Ozzy's clock from his nightstand. "Look, I told you, 8:32am."

Ozzy groaned and turned around to look at the clock, his eyes widening as soon as he read the time.

"Oh FUCK!" he yelled, tearing the sheets off himself and leaping out of bed. "I'm gonna be late for my exam with Roja! Ohh no no no! This is the worst thing that could've happened today!"

He ripped the alarm clock out of Drix's hands and threw it against the wall in anger, yelling insults at it as it fell to the floor.

"Ozzy, control yourself! Don't treat your possessions like that!"

"What does it matter? The piece of shit clock doesn't even work!" Ozzy spat back as he struggled to get his shorts on, attempting to shove his left foot in the wrong leg hole. "Why didn't you wake me up?", he whined desperately.

"How am I meant to know what time you have to be awake? I have my own timetable to worry about, you know! It might be hard to believe, Jones, but you're not the protagonist of my life."

"Argh, I know!" Ozzy shouted back, panic lacing his voice. He saw Drix's expression then, and felt a sting of guilt over having yelled at him. "Uy, I'm sorry, man. It's not your fault, it's mine. I'm just stressed, is all."

He gave Drix a quick hug before jumping back and swivelling his head around to see if he'd missed anything important. "What else do I need? Oh! Pass me my rucksack, will ya? It's on the chair!" Ozzy said, pulling the first T-shirt he could find over his head.

Drix picked up the rucksack and placed it down next to Ozzy as he attempted to tie his shoelaces, his hands shaking violently. "Are you sure you've got everything you need for the exam? That rucksack feels rather light."

Ozzy finished tying his shoes and nodded quickly. "Yeah yeah, I packed my bag last night, I think."

"You think?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I did. Anyway, I'm late as fuck, gotta go, Dripsy! Wish me luck!"

Drix didn't even have time to respond before Ozzy was already out of the door and pelting down the corridor towards the exit.

He panned his vision across the room and sighed. Ozzy's duvet was making an attempt to escape its cover as the bottom part hung over his bed and dragged itself across the floor, while his poor, abused alarm clock still found itself laying on the carpet, surrounded by a few crumpled T-shirts and pairs of old shorts.

Drix set about picking up his clothes and throwing them in the laundry basket while he thought about his and Ozzy's unlikely friendship.

After Drix had introduced Ozzy to his other friends on Friday night, they had given him a puzzled look, and then immediately inquired about their friendship as soon as Ozzy had left.

Drix knew that he and Ozzy were an odd pair; they were completely different in almost every way, which could sometimes cause issues to arise between them.

He didn't believe in the expression 'opposites attract'. He'd always considered it a mantra for incompatible couples to make themselves feel better about their horrible, doomed relationships. But somehow, it made complete sense with Ozzy.

There was no one who knew how to press Drix's buttons like Ozzy, no one who could raise his blood pressure or stress him out quite like him.

Yet, there was also no one who understood and accepted Drix like Ozzy did, no one who could make Drix laugh quite as hard, keep him grounded in reality, stop him from getting completely lost in academics, or help him let loose when he needed to.

From the outside, it probably looked like Ozzy was just a charity case to Drix; someone who wouldn't be able to function without his help or guidance. But in reality, it couldn't be further from the truth.

Despite how incredibly annoying Ozzy could be, he was Drix's favourite person to be around, and Drix couldn't imagine how boring and grey his life would be without him.

"Good luck, Ozzy", Drix said quietly, a small smile on his face as he picked up Ozzy's duvet and neatly placed it back on his bed.


Ozzy hurried down the narrow corridor towards the lecture hall, his baggy shorts threatening to slip down over his hips the whole time. In his haste to get to class on time, he'd charged out of his room before having a chance to put a belt on, meaning that he'd had to run the whole way there with one hand holding up his shorts, while the other clung onto his rucksack.

He pushed on the door with his shoulder and stumbled into class, not stopping or raising his gaze as he continued towards his seat. He knew he must look like an absolute state right now; hair sticking up in all directions, face completely flushed, his clothes wrinkled and badly fitting as he huffed and puffed across the hall, but at this point he didn't care.

The professor followed him with his eyes the whole time, loudly tapping his watch with his claw. "You're late."

Ozzy glanced at the clock and opened his mouth to defend himself, but then thought it best to just leave it alone. "S-sorry", was all he managed to say as he threw himself into his seat.

He rummaged around in his bag as he tried to find Drix's lucky pen, but all he pulled out were some empty packs of bubble gum, a few Crayola crayons and a very blunt pencil. Shit! Oh, fuck piss balls! Drips was right! I've left everything on my desk at home!

He frantically looked around at the other students, hoping that one of them would put him out of his misery and lend him a pen, but all he received were dirty looks. Oh yeah, shit. They all think it's my fault that Roja set us this exam.

He dropped his head under the desk, hoping and praying to find a pen on the floor that might have fallen from someone's bag when they had come in. Please please please…

"What on Earth is wrong now, Jones?" the professor snapped, making Ozzy jump and hit his head on the desk.

"Ow…" he said weakly as he rubbed his head, sitting back up to look at the professor. He was the very last person that Ozzy wanted to ask for anything.

He mulled it over for a few seconds, before deciding that, out of the two options, he'd rather swallow his pride and resort to asking the professor for help, than to fail his first ever exam at college (although it was a very close decision.)

He gulped and held his pencil up, making his eyes as big and innocent looking as possible to see if that would help his case. "H-have you got any spare pens, sir? I was in a rush this mornin' and didn't check my ba-"

He was interrupted by the sound of the professor's chair scraping across the floor. He watched as he slowly stood up and sauntered over to him with one hand behind his back and a huge smile across his face.

Oh shit.

"First you come in late when you knew we had an exam, disrupting everyone else in the process, and then you have the gall to ask me for a pen? You may dress like a toddler that's been thrown in a thrift store bin, but this ain't elementary school, Jones."

"B-but-"

The professor interrupted him by harshly grabbing his wrist, before shoving something that felt like metal into his hand. "Here, use this one. It's my favourite."

Ozzy frowned and looked down, before accidentally letting a gasp escape his lips. Oh, it was a pen alright, one of the pens from Professor Roja's office, and it was still tightly wrapped in aluminium foil.

Ozzy swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly very dry, but tried to relax his face so as not to arouse suspicion. "But why is this…?"

"Shh, now say 'thank you'. And remember to call me sir."

Ozzy clenched his teeth and slowly raised his gaze, wincing as he felt the professor tighten his grip around his wrist. He scowled up at him and squeezed the pen, mumbling, "thank you, sir. "

I fuckin' hate you, Roja.

"Good boy", Professor Roja lulled, before leaning down to Ozzy's level. "I won't always be this nice, so make sure you come prepared next time."

He yanked his wrist to pull him closer, brushing his lips against Ozzy's cheek as he whispered, "besides, if you're old enough to get blind drunk and vandalise someone's property, then surely you're old enough to remember to bring a pen to my class."

Ozzy's mouth fell open. "What do you mean? How do you…?", he started to say, but was interrupted by the professor pressing a thumb to his lips.

Ozzy felt a faint blush spreading across his cheeks, and the professor moved his head back to look him in the eye. He tutted and slowly traced his thumb over Ozzy's bottom lip. "Tsk tsk. As much as I love hearing you whine, you're disturbing the rest of the class. Now hush, not another word from you."

And with that, he stood back up to his full height, turned around and slowly walked back over to his desk, leaving Ozzy to stare at him with wide eyes. Wha…?

He brought a hand up to drag two fingers over his bottom lip, the feeling of the professor's claw still lingering. What the fuck just happened…?

He watched as the professor sat down at his desk again and tapped his wrist, signalling that time was running out, before he looked back down at his textbook.

Ozzy shut his eyes and sucked some air in through his teeth to try to calm himself down. Okay, ignore him. His lil imitation tactics won't work if you don't let 'em. Focus on the exam.

He turned the paper over and felt relieved to see that there was only one question. "Hah, piece of piss," he whispered under his breath, "this is gonna be easy peasy lemon squeezy." He cracked his knuckles and started quietly humming as he went to read the question, suddenly falling silent as soon as he read what it actually said.

'Write a comparative essay about binary fission and mitosis in no less than 400 words.'

Ozzy stared at the sheet of paper for a few seconds, re-reading the question over and over to make sure he'd understood it correctly. What. The. Fuck?

He turned the paper over a few times to check that he wasn't missing anything, before swivelling his head around to look at the other students. They were all hard at work, a few with confused expressions and furrowed brows, but most of them seemed to be answering the question just fine.

He looked back at the exam, only to see the letters swirling before his very eyes. He blinked a few times to try and get them to stop dancing over the page, before aggressively rubbing his eyes with his palms. Fuck fuck fuck.

His breathing quickened and his palms started to sweat as he felt the panic rising in his throat. I… I have no idea how to answer this!

He looked back up at the professor; his expression was calm, collected, almost serene, but this only made Ozzy feel even worse. He shot his hand in the air and waved it about, trying to get the professor's attention.

He saw the corners of his mouth turn up slightly, but he still didn't look up from his textbook. Ozzy frowned and cleared his throat extra loudly to make sure he couldn't ignore him, waving his arm about much more frantically.

The professor looked up and softened his expression, feigning ignorance. "Yes?"

"I-I think you've got the modules confused, sir. I mean, we haven't learned any of this yet. I don't think we'll even get to this in the textbook fo-"

"I am well aware of that, Jones. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"No, it's just, I have no ide-"

"A student being able to memorise and regurgitate information is fine for most teachers, but I ain't most teachers. I wanna see just how well you do when you ain't got no fancy book learning to fall back on."

Ozzy scowled and threw his arms in the air. "But that's so unfair! How am I meant to write about a topic I haven't studied?!"

The professor tutted and brought his claw up to his lips. "Shh, you're disturbing the other students." He lowered his voice and tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Now, head down and get to work, there's a good boy."

Ozzy's jaw almost hit the floor. He stared at him with wide eyes, his shoulders shaking with rage. That bastard is gonna punish the whole class just to get to me?!

He gripped his foil covered pen in both hands and squeezed it tightly, imagining that it was the professor's neck. Fuck, I underestimated just how much of a dickhead he could be. He's a virus, for Frank's sake, of course he's gonna fight dirty.

He exhaled deeply and shut his eyes, rolling his shoulders a few times to try and calm himself down. It's okay, it's okay. It's tooootally fine. I'll get him back later, oh yes, he's gonna fuckin' pay. But first things first, I gotta kick this essay's ass.

He peeled the aluminium foil from around the pen and scrunched it up into a ball, before tossing it forwards without thinking. The whole class watched aghast as it rolled across the floor and stopped at the professor's feet.

The collective gasp prompted Ozzy to look up in confusion, only to be met with a pair of smouldering, incensed eyes.

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Now he definitely wants to kill me.

For the first time since meeting Professor Roja, Ozzy felt genuinely scared of him, but decided to ignore the alarm bells now ringing in his head. He wasn't going to allow this virus to intimidate him, even if every fibre in his body was begging and screaming at him to jump out of the nearest window and get away from him as quickly as possible.

He sat up straight, leaned his chin on his hand and grinned at the professor, daring him to make the next move. What are you gonna do? You can't actually kill me, can ya? Not without losing your cushy job.

The professor narrowed his eyes, before stamping on the aluminium ball and grinding it into the ground with his boot.

All eyes were darting between Ozzy and the professor as everyone waited to see what would happen next. Would the professor yell at him? Kick him out of the exam? Hit him with one of his heavy encyclopaedias? Impale him with his claw?

Professor Roja panned his vision across the class, glaring at everyone who dared to look him in the eye, before rolling his gaze back to Ozzy. He let a smile break out on his face, the most wicked and scornful smile Ozzy had ever seen in his life.

"If there's one thing I really can't stand, it's people who litter. It's messy, inconsiderate and rude." He gestured with his hand for Ozzy to come towards him, before quickly flicking his eyes down to the floor and back up to him. "Come on, get on your knees and tidy up your mess."

Ozzy flinched. Was the professor seriously asking him to crawl around underneath his desk like a dog?! In front of the whole class?! During an important exam?! Ozzy was fully ready to grab his rucksack and hurl it at the professor, when a light bulb suddenly went off in his head.

Finally it clicked, it all made sense! Ozzy's confusing feelings, that palpable tingling sensation he got whenever the professor looked at him, spoke to him or touched him, were surely just down to the overly sexual and flirtatious way the professor had been acting towards him since they met.

It had struck Ozzy as odd; he had never felt any romantic feelings for another man in his life, but equally, a man had never treated him like Professor Roja did.

Whispering in his ear, putting on his most sensual voice as he made innuendo after innuendo, looking at Ozzy as if he was trying to undress him with his eyes, while making sure to touch him as much as the Cornea University's school board would allow.

All the weird desires that Ozzy had been feeling must just be his body reacting to that, right?

Professor Roja had been using his charms to get inside Ozzy's head and throw him off, and it had been working, but now that Ozzy had figured out his little game, he could use it against him.

If sick sexual mind games were what Roja wanted, that's exactly what he was going to get.

Ozzy leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow in an attempt to look as confident as possible. "Was this all just a clever scheme to get me under your desk, sir?"

The professor laughed loudly, seemingly shocked by Ozzy's reply. "Oh, you wish. Nah, I just don't think it's fair to make the janitor clean up after a spoiled brat like you."

Ozzy scrunched up his nose at that, but surprisingly to everyone, simply stood up and walked over to the professor.

Professor Roja raised an eyebrow and smirked as he watched Ozzy get on his hands and knees and slip under his desk. Oh my God, I can't believe he actually did i- he started to think, gasping as he felt Ozzy lean against his leg and gently pat his thigh.

He looked down to see him sitting between his legs and holding out the flattened disk of aluminium foil for him to take with one hand resting on his thigh.

The professor's eyes opened wide as he stared down at Ozzy, watching the way his soft, full lips parted slightly as he took in a breath, how his cheeks were flushed an adorable shade of purple, the way his T-shirt gaped at the collar, showing off slightly more of his collarbone that he had probably intended.

He felt himself getting lost in the big, round, innocent eyes that were gazing up at him, completely forgetting that he was in front of over thirty students right now. As far as he was concerned, there was no one else in that lecture hall but him and this ridiculously attractive white blood cell between his legs.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

He flinched as Ozzy suddenly tightened his hand around his thigh, breaking him out of his spell.

Ozzy tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brow, feigning concern over the professor's now flustered expression. "Sorry, sir, can you not reach? Do you need me to come a lil closer?" He shuffled further forward on his knees until his face was practically in the professor's lap, and continued to hold the aluminium foil out for him, brushing the inside of his thigh with his hand in the process.

They stared at each other for a moment, until Professor Roja heard someone clear their throat. He looked up to see the whole class staring back at him, and felt a faint blush spread across his cheeks. "What the fuck are you all looking at? Get back to work!"

He looked back down at Ozzy and roughly snatched the aluminium foil from his hand. "Ahem, good. I don't ever wanna see you littering again, is that understood? My floor ain't a trash can." He frowned and looked away, mumbling, "now, get back to your seat."

Ozzy smirked to himself as he backed out from under the professor's desk. He shot him a seductive look over his shoulder as he walked back to his seat, allowing his shorts to slip down over his hips slightly, before sliding onto his chair and sighing heavily.

His new little strategy had gone perfectly. He glanced over at the professor again, watching as he shifted in his seat and crossed one leg over the other, clearly uncomfortable by what had just happened.

Ozzy then looked over to the clock and inhaled sharply, his eyes widening. Shit! I've wasted fifteen minutes already? He read the essay question again and held his breath, feeling as the walls started to close in on him once more.

All the previous antics and excitement with Professor Roja had momentarily distracted him from the sad truth; he didn't have any fucking idea how to answer this question.

He had briefly studied mitosis in school, and if he combined this with what he had learned over the weekend, he could probably string a few pieces of information together to form a coherent enough description of how it all worked.

However, he didn't know the first thing about binary fission, and definitely wouldn't be able to write a 400 word essay comparing it to mitosis.

He turned the paper over and started sketching out a mind map, hoping it would maybe give him some ideas.

After a few minutes of planning, he started with the introduction, and then moved onto the main body. He gave a detailed, semi-accurate description of mitosis, channelling all the information he could down the pen and onto the page in the hope that at least some of it would be correct.

As he reached the third paragraph, he watched, horrified, as a few students finished their exams and stood up, dropping their papers onto the professor's desk before leaving the room.

After a while, only a few stragglers remained, but even they eventually got up and left, until finally, Ozzy was the only one still in the lecture hall.

He spun his head around to look at the clock. 10:50am. There were only ten minutes of the lesson left, and he hadn't even begun to mention binary fission yet.

He dared to look over at the professor, to find him staring straight back at him, with his chin resting on both hands, his claws interlaced, one eyebrow raised and his left foot tapping under his desk, every rhythmic click-clack of his boot sending a jolt through Ozzy's whole body.

"Ten minutes left, Jones," he taunted, "better hurry."

Ozzy was desperate, and it was painted across his face. How was it possible that the other students had finished so soon? He hadn't arrived that late, and they hadn't studied this either!

Ozzy looked down at his sweaty, shaking hands and his mind started to race. Maybe I'm just an idiot. Who am I kiddin', I don't belong in this class. Hell, I'm probably not good enough to even be here at college. Even with Drix's help and all those hours studying, I still have no idea what I'm doin'… how am I gonna be a detective if I can't even do this?

He inhaled sharply and shook his head. No. I can do it. The stuff I've written about mitosis is good, I know that. I can just bullshit the rest and hopefully scrape a pass.

He put his pen to paper again and continued aggressively scrawling until the bell rang. He hadn't quite finished the conclusion, but by this point his wrist hurt so much that he was just happy for it to be over. He relaxed into the chair and tilted his head back, exhaling deeply.

"Okay, Jones. Time's up. Pack up your things and go. Well, your thing."

Ozzy opened his eyes and looked back down at what he had written. The handwriting was truly atrocious, even worse than in the apology letter, but he was sure that the arguments were strong, and had tried his best to use transitions and connectors between his ideas to make the whole thing flow a bit better.

He picked his rucksack off the floor and put his blunt pencil away, before standing up and heading for Professor Roja's desk, essay and pen in hand.

"No, no. Don't give it to me. Leave it on your desk, along with my pen."

Ozzy frowned, confused. "B-but, everyone else left theirs here."

"Yeah, because I trust everyone else not to sexually assault me during class. Your behaviour today has shown me that you are unable to control yourself around me, so for my own safety, I'd like you to leave the essay on your desk, please."

Ozzy clenched his teeth and glowered at him. He had a hundred thousand million vicious things he wanted to say to the professor at that moment, but decided to hold his tongue.

He may be reckless and hopelessly driven by emotions, but Ozzy knew that picking a fight with a virus who already hated his guts would be like signing his own death warrant.

He turned back around and relaxed his shoulders, trying not to show the professor that he had successfully managed to rattle him. He placed the essay down on his desk and spun around to face him again. "So when will we know what we got in this test?" he said, his voice breezy and carefree as he sauntered over to the professor again.

"You'll find out your grade during your review on Wednesday afternoon."

Ozzy rested his hands on the professor's desk and leaned in further. "It's a date, baby, can't wait."

"Oh trust me, no one is more looking forward to your first review than me, Jones." His top lip curled into a sneer and he gestured with his hand towards the door. "Now, piss off."

"Gladly", Ozzy muttered under his breath, holding his shorts up as he stormed out of the lecture hall.

The professor watched him leave and sighed heavily. "What the actual fuck just happened?" He relaxed into his chair and tilted his head back. "This kid's gonna end up getting me fired if I'm not careful."

"What the actual fuck just happened?" Ozzy whispered to himself as he walked down the corridor. "D-did I really just try to seduce my biology teacher?"

He started playing with his fingers and nervously mumbling under his breath as he approached the door. He stepped out into the courtyard and traipsed back to his dorm room, dragging his feet all the way.

"Drips is right, I'm completely, utterly, uncontrollably obsessed with Professor Roja."