Ozzy slammed the door shut behind him and pressed his back against it, exhaling heavily. What the fuck just happened?

That exam had been the most confusing, inexplicable emotional rollercoaster of his life; fear entwined with desire, self-assurance mixed with self-reproach, excitement and thrill tainted by disappointment and longing.

All he wanted now was to be alone, in silence. To turn the lights off and crawl into bed and just…

"Ozzy!"

He groaned. Nevermind.

"What the hell happened in your biology class?!" Drix yelled as he floated out of the bathroom.

Ozzy relaxed his shoulders and forced a grin, feigning ignorance. "What do you mean? Nothin' happened."

"What were you doing under Professor Roja's desk?!"

Ozzy flinched, his eyes opening wide. "Wha-? How do you…?"

"The whole school is talking about it! I've heard three different versions of the event already!"

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh piss balls wank poop. He breathed in sharply and tilted his head back against the door as he felt panic rising in his chest, hot and stabbing. "Them gossipy bastards. Isn't anything sacred anymore? What I do with my professor is my business and…"

"It stops being your business as soon as you do it in front of the whole class, Ozzy!"

Ozzy scrunched up his nose and glared at Drix, even though, deep down, he knew he was right. He couldn't really be angry about these rumours. Of course everyone was talking about it. He'd crawled under his teacher's desk and placed his head in his lap in front of the whole first year biology class, for Frank's sake.

If anyone else had done that, Ozzy would have been the first to make fun of them or think of a degrading nickname that would stick with them until graduation. 'Teacher's pet'. 'Professor's puppy'. 'Dirty desk dog'...

"Ozzy, can you please tell me what happened?!"

Ozzy blinked at Drix for a moment, before turning his head to the side and waving his hand at him. "'S nothin'. That viral motherfucker made me get on my hands and knees and crawl under his desk to pick up something that I dropped, end of…"

"Well that's not what everyone is saying. I heard that you spent at least a minute under there with your head in between his legs."

"A minute? That's bullshit. They're exaggerating. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds. It's like I told ya, I just went under there to pass him a piece of litter."

"I also heard that you tried to give him a…"

Ozzy cocked his head, puzzled. "A what?"

"A… you know… oh come on, don't make me say it…"

Ozzy's eyes widened in shock. "No! No of course not! Eww! No no no, I would never! I was just tryna… I just wanted to mess with his head a lil. Y'know, fuck him up a bit!"

"Sounds to me like you just wanted to fu-"

"Drips! Don't even say it! That's so disgusting, how could you even think that?!"

Drix inhaled sharply and grabbed Ozzy's notepad from the desk. "Well, for starters there's exhibit A." He held it up in front of Ozzy's face and raised an eyebrow. "Care to explain yourself, Jones?"

Ozzy stared aghast at what was in front of him. There were his messy biology notes, a few mini mind maps, and then loads, and I mean loads, of little drawings of Professor Roja in the corners of the page, around the borders, between the title and the heading, and basically squished into any space that hadn't already been taken up by biology facts.

Fuck.

He quickly opened and closed his mouth, unsure what to say, and then started laughing nervously. "Nah nah nah, that's not what it looks like! I was just…" Think Ozzy! "...thinkin' about ways to get back at him, and I started drawing him, y'know, like, to try and get my brain going… to think of new prank ideas!"

Drix furrowed his brow. "Hm, then why did you draw little hearts above his head in this one? And why is he winking in that one?"

Ozzy tore the notepad away from Drix and hugged it to his chest. "Give that to me! It's not what you think!" He paused for a beat while he thought about how to cover up his extremely embarrassing tracks. "They represent the way he's always so weirdly flirty with me. He's always sayin' the sluttiest things around me, and I thought I could maybe use that against him, y'know, like I did with the desk thing!"

Drix furrowed his brow. "What do you mean 'flirty'? Has he been inappropriate with you in any way?"

Ozzy simply frowned and dropped the notepad on the desk. He spun around to look at himself in the mirror and started stroking his chin. "Do you think I should grow a beard? I reckon it'd suit me."

"Jones, stop trying to change the subject. Has Professor Roja been inappropriate with you?" Drix pressed, his tone serious.

Ozzy rolled his eyes and turned to face Drix again. "I guess… he always gets weirdly close, like, touching my face and leaning in to whisper in my ear… stuff like that. But surely he does that with everyone, right?"

Drix scrunched up his face. "No. In fact, he generally tries to keep as much distance with his students as he possibly can."

Ozzy simply shrugged and headed over to Drix's perfectly made bed. He threw himself down and swung his legs over the edge. "I must just be special then", he said with a grin.

"Hmm…" Drix said, raising an eyebrow. "Is there anything else he does?"

Ozzy looked down at his lap and frowned, kicking his legs back and forth. "I dunno, it's like his tone changes when he speaks to me, like his voice… drops. With everyone else he just kinda barks orders at them from a distance, but with me everything feels much more… personal."

"Hmm, maybe it's because of how you two started off. You're not exactly the… easiest student in the world. You can be quite confrontational."

Ozzy snapped his head up to glare at Drix and threw his arms in the air. "Oh yeah, blame the victim! He's the one who pressed his claw against my mouth just now and asked me to get under his desk!"

"Yes, about that, I was going to say-"

"You shoulda seen the way he was lookin' at me while I was under his desk, Drips. You could totally sense just how much he wanted to-" Ozzy started to say, suddenly falling silent as soon as he remembered that he was talking to possibly the biggest gossip on campus.

Even though Drix was his best friend, Ozzy knew he couldn't be trusted with any kind of secret, especially not with a juicy little titbit like this one.

Drix narrowed his eyes and hovered over to the bed. "He wanted to… what?" he asked, obviously intrigued.

Ozzy cleared his throat and shook his head. "Nah. Nothin'. Just ignore me."

"Ozzyyyyy~" Drix pressed, his voice rising towards the end. "I can always tell when you're hiding something from me. Just tell me what it is!"

Ozzy rolled his eyes and shot Drix a dirty look. "Leave it, will ya? It's nothin'."

Drix's face fell, before he let out a long sigh. "Fine, okay, sorry. But either way, if you feel like he has acted inappropriately with you, then you should go and speak with the student board. Your safety comes first, and this behaviour definitely isn't normal no matter what the reason behind it."

Ozzy shook his head, before turning to lay down on Drix's bed and placing his hands behind his head. "Nah, that's the very last thing I wanna do. Then he's won, ain't he? If I go crying to the director then that just proves to Roja that he's got to me."

Drix simply tutted and watched in dismay as Ozzy dug his heels into his bedsheets. He grabbed his rucksack from the desk chair and headed to the door, turning to face Ozzy as he twisted the handle. "And no, I don't think you should grow a beard. It would make you look ridiculous", he said firmly, before shutting the door behind him.

Ozzy frowned. "Well, I think it'd make me look fuckin' sexy!", he yelled after him, scrunching up his nose when he heard Drix shout back, "whatever you say!"

"Oh yeah? And what do you know about sexy? You iron yer fuckin' socks", he mumbled to himself as he shut his eyes and relaxed into the bed below.

Sexy. He inhaled deeply and tilted his head back. What does that even mean to me anymore? He opened one eye and turned his head to glance at all the little doodles on the notepad. What is it about him that has such a hold on me?

Ozzy had had crushes before, loads. An embarrassing amount, really. While it was true that some of them had been on his teachers, it was equally true that they had all been women.

He'd tried to convince himself before that his confusing feelings had all been Professor Roja's fault, and that they had simply come about because of the flirty, seductive way he had been acting towards him.

He knew deep down that that wasn't really true, though.

He sighed contentedly as he remembered the blush forming across the professor's angular cheeks as he stared down at him, his pupils completely blown, the look of absolute lust painted over his entire face, the way his body had arched ever so slightly towards Ozzy.

Sharing these little details with Drix would be the perfect way to get the professor fired, and give Ozzy an opportunity to finally be rid of him.

And yet, he hadn't taken it.

He thought back to this morning's class, unable to help the smile that spread across his face, nor the slight blush that came with it. Despite himself, he'd actually liked it. All of it. Every single fucking second of it.

Ozzy remembered the way the professor had roughly grabbed his wrist and leaned over him. He had never been the submissive partner before, but there was something so fucking sexy about how far the professor had to drop his head just to be in line with Ozzy's, how much stronger he was, how easily he could completely dominate him if he wished.

He started thinking about the feeling of the professor's warm cheek against his own, his soft breath hitting the shell of his ear, the gentle yet firm press of his claw to his lips while he spoke in the most sultry whisper Ozzy had ever heard, sending shivers down his spine.

Then there was the smell of his skin, rich and dark and deep, mixing oh so perfectly with the woodiness of his cologne and his subtle cedarwood shampoo.

And that's without even mentioning what had happened with the desk.

The feel of the professor's thick, muscular thigh under his hand, the sight of his lips parting as he took a breath, his flustered expression as he stared down at him, making Ozzy feel like he was about to melt.

Despite what Ozzy had started saying to Drix before, it was really him who had wanted to take it to the next level. Why else would he feel the need to protect Professor Roja when Drix had tried to push him for more information? He didn't owe him anything, in fact, wouldn't his life be easier with him out of the picture?

However, the thought of never seeing the professor again physically hurt. In spite of their little rivalry, Ozzy saw something in Professor Roja that reflected something in himself, something he couldn't quite understand.

He sighed, sinking into the sheets below and allowing his mind to wander. What would've happened if we had been completely alone back there? Would he have just kicked me and ordered me to leave? Or would the tension have become too much for both of us, leading to him grabbing me and throwing me down on the desk, tearing off my clothes with his claws, biting and licking and sucking bruises on every inch of my body… marking me, making me his.

Then he'd head downwards and close his mouth around me… and I'd moan his name over and over and over… but not Professor Roja… no… Thrax.

Ozzy breathed in deeply as he felt his cytoplasm start to rush southwards, the heat curling tight at the bottom of his stomach. Then he wouldn't be able to wait any longer, and he would lift me up to force me onto all fours on his desk, whispering all the nasty, disgusting, degrading things he wanted to do to me, before biting down hard on the back of my shoulder and sliding into me and…

Ozzy was suddenly snapped out of his train of thought by an uncomfortable pressure coming from his middle. He looked down and gasped as soon as he saw how tight his shorts had become around him. What, seriously!? Thinking about Roja made me…?

He sat up abruptly and slapped himself across the cheek. Stop this! You're not gay! He stood up and inelegantly waddled over to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. I'm not gay, I'm not gay, I'm not gay…

He raised his head to look at himself in the mirror, droplets of water running down his cheeks and dripping off his chin.

Right. That does it. I need some fuckin' help.


After taking yet another cold shower, the third in the space of a week, Ozzy crept outside towards the bulletin board in the hall. He scanned the pamphlets and notices, hoping to find some information about a self-help group for people with embarrassing crushes, like a sort of Rojaholics Anonymous.

His eyes scanned the various flyers, scrap pieces of paper and adverts. The drama club's annual Halloween production, boooring. Campus safety tips, blah blah blah. Someone trying to offer their tutoring services, neeeerd...

He sighed, feeling a little hopeless, and was about to turn back to his dorm, when his eyes landed on an obnoxiously colourful pamphlet titled 'So you think you've got a crush'.

A grin spread across his face. Perfect! This'll tell me everything I need to know! He snatched the pamphlet from the board and darted back into his bedroom, before throwing himself onto Drix's bed again and opening the pamphlet.

Okay, so it basically lists signs to watch out for, perfect. Nice and straightforward, no bullshit. Let's have a look at number one…

1. talk about them a lot.

Pfft, well… yeah, I guess. But only to Drix, and only about how I can get revenge on him… so I don't think that really counts. Onto number two…

2. They're all you think about.

Ugh, I mean, yeah, I do think about him a lot… Well, all the time, really. But I also think about donuts and pancakes a lot, and I don't wanna fuck them now, do I?!

3. You change your interests to suit theirs.

He grinned and relaxed his shoulders. "A-hah!" Wrong, incorrect, absolutely positively untrue! I don't even know anything he's into, so checkmate, stupid shitty pamphlet!

He sat back against the headboard, basking in the glory of his 'victory', but his smile was wiped from his face as he realised something.

Biology. He's into biology. It's his job. His profession… the only thing I know about him… and I've been obsessively trying to learn the whole syllabus… to impress him! Oh, fuck fuck fuck!

Ozzy sat up again and gripped the pamphlet tightly in his hands. Right, I gotta keep readin'. I'm sure I'll find something in here that proves I'm not actually into that dickhead.

4. You find yourself doing things that are out of character.

Ozzy thought about it for a moment, before hanging his head and sighing. Although pulling pranks and pushing people's buttons were definitely nothing new to him, crawling under a teacher's desk and putting his head on his lap in an attempt to seduce him was, and almost every single interaction he had had with the professor had been wildly atypical of him.

I mean, yeah, I have been acting weird I guess… but that's to be expected, ain't it? I just moved to college, that's a big, scary change, so it's normal that I'm not really being myself right now, right?

5. Your life revolves around them.

Ozzy frowned and rolled his eyes. Don't be so fuckin' dramatic… Yes, I think about him constantly… but I also have a life outside of him! Like partying and studying and friends.

He paused and narrowed his eyes. Although… I did leave the club to go prank him… and the only reason I'm studying so hard is to get back at him… and I haven't even made any attempts to make a single friend while I've been here because I've been so obsessed with… him.

He whined and kicked his legs a few times out of frustration, crinkling the pamphlet in his hands. Right, there's one more point left. Maybe this is the one I've been waiting for, the one that will finally prove once and for all that it's not actually a crush. Okay, what does it say…

6. While reading this, did you happen to have one specific person in mind? Did you think of their name over and over again? If your answer is yes, then I'm sorry to tell you that you probably have a crush on that person. If you'd like more information, check out our websi…

Ozzy stopped reading there and let the pamphlet fall to the bed, his hands shaking. Ohhh nooo… Oh no no no.

That was it. There was no use denying it any longer. He'd had his suspicions before, but now that it had been spelled out for him in big pink and green letters, it was unmistakable. He was categorically, irrefutably, embarrassingly falling for his professor.


Ozzy was leaning against the wall outside the professor's office, kicking his left leg back and forth as he waited for his first ever review. After his ground-breaking, earth-shattering realisation on Monday, he'd spent the afternoon, and the entirety of Tuesday, running around the mall trying to find a nice outfit, something he thought might impress the professor.

Once again, he had missed his criminology class, his forensics lecture, and even his first ever tennis practise, but he wasn't concerned about that right now. All he could think about was this review.

He squinted his eyes as he looked at his faint reflection in the window, and started fiddling with his hair, trying to make it look as presentable as possible.

Even though he was ashamed to admit it, he really, really cared about the professor's opinion of him.

He sighed as he remembered the times where he had insulted his clothes and hair. All those little jabs had definitely rattled Ozzy's confidence more than he had let on, and although he'd never tell a soul, he hadn't been able to stomach the idea of wearing those clothes since, and had thrown them out the very same day.

He looked down at himself and sighed. He'd decided to go with a pair of tight, black jeans and a short-sleeved purple shirt. He'd even woken up an extra thirty minutes early to scrub his black sneakers clean of any dirt or grime, and used an iron for the first time in his life in a desperate attempt to get all the creases out of his clothes.

Drix raised an eyebrow when Ozzy had asked about the best way to iron socks, but mercifully didn't say anything else about the matter.

Ozzy tilted his head back against the wall and exhaled in an attempt to get rid of some of the anxious energy now swirling and building within him.

There was so much riding on this review. This would be the first time that Ozzy was truly alone with the professor since realising his crush, and not only that, but he also knew that he hadn't done very well on his first exam, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle hearing the professor saying yet more negative things about him.

Ozzy fiddled with the bottom of his shirt and looked at the door out of the corner of his eye. He stood on his tiptoes to try and catch a glimpse of the professor through the small, tinted window, gasping quietly once he saw him sitting at his desk.

He'd chosen to wear something different today, a dark brown, cable knit sweater, which clung to his chest and shoulders, somehow making him look even bigger than normal. Ozzy sighed when he noticed that he'd also tied his braids up in a messy bun, showing off his long neck and sharp jaw.

He was nodding and smiling, genuinely smiling, and Ozzy wondered if he would smile at him like that. At the very least, he hoped that the professor would notice and maybe even comment on the change in his appearance; his new clothes, his tidy hair, the cologne he had bought especially for today.

"Thrax Roja", he said quietly, rolling the 'r' extra hard. He said it a few times in a row, enjoying the way it felt on his tongue.

There was some sort of weird, indescribable feeling of power after you'd found out a teacher's first name. It was as if it somehow made them more 'human' and broke down the barrier slightly between you and them.

But right now, Ozzy didn't feel empowered or in control of the situation. He had no idea what was in store for him once he stepped foot in that office, and having to wait to be called in was killing him.

After what felt like an eternity, the door opened, and out scuttled one of his classmates with a relieved look on their face. They mouthed the words 'good luck' and hurried down the corridor as fast as they could.

Ozzy turned his head and could see the professor sitting on the other side of the desk, gesturing for Ozzy to come in with his head, a cruel smirk on his face.

Ozzy steeled himself and took a few cautious steps inside, shutting the door softly. He quickly sat himself down in the chair and smiled sweetly at the professor. Right, okay, I'm inside now. Just gotta keep my cool and not do anything stupid…

"How are you today, Jones?" the professor asked, his tone mocking.

Ozzy nodded quickly and swallowed. "'M fine… how're you?" he asked quietly, gasping as soon as he saw the professor pull out a notepad covered in aluminium foil from his drawer.

Ozzy's eyes darted between the professor and the notepad, and he winced slightly as the professor removed the foil from around it and scrunched it up into a tight little ball. He then narrowed his eyes and smirked as he rolled the aluminium ball around his desk with one claw. "Oh, I'm perfectly fine, thank you. But I'd like to know a little more about you. Didja have a nice weekend, for example? Didja do anything… fun?"

Ozzy inhaled through his teeth, before frowning and sitting up in his chair. He's tryna get me to confess. Well, I ain't so dumb, Thraxy. You ain't got no proof that it was me, buddy, and I ain't spillin'.

He relaxed back into his seat and smiled, feigning confidence. "Yeah, y'know, it was my first proper weekend as a freshman, so I met some new people, made a few friends, you know how it be."

The professor's smile widened slightly, and he flicked the ball of aluminium foil in Ozzy's direction. They both watched as it rolled off the table and landed in between his thighs.

Ozzy picked it up and held it in front of his face, tutting a few times. "You know, if there's one thing I really can't stand, it's people who litter. It's messy, inconsiderate and rude." He looked the professor in the eye and smiled. "I'm disappointed in you, Thraxy."

The professor raised an eyebrow and propped his forearms on the desk. "What did you just call me?"

"Thra-xy", Ozzy said, leaning in slightly and enunciating both syllables with a huge grin on his face.

"And how exactly do you know my first name?"

Ozzy froze in place, his eyes widening as he realised he had just incriminated himself. Shit. "Uh… y'know, that's a funny story… heh… I know it because… um…", he babbled, a nervous smile wiping away any of the confidence he had previously displayed. "M-my roommate Drix told me! He's a second year, and o-one of your students! He knows everything about everybody!"

The professor sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Well, that tracks… Drix is the biggest gossip I've ever met. "Hm, fine…" he mumbled, pushing his chair back and slowly rising to his feet.

Ozzy breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed into his chair. Phew, I think I've gotten away with it. Thanks, Dripsy.

He watched as the professor turned around and reached up to the top shelf to grab a binder that was marked 'Jones' in big, red writing. He has a whole binder just for me? I wonder if that's the same for everyone else…

Professor Roja sat back down and started flicking through his file, humming quietly as he turned page after page. Ozzy shifted nervously in his seat, crinkling the aluminium foil in his hands. Come ooon, just put me out of my misery already!

The silence between them was painful, but the professor continued to slowly thumb through the folder, seeming to enjoy watching Ozzy squirm in front of him.

After what felt like forever, he eventually stopped, and took out a loose piece of paper. Ozzy inhaled sharply when he realised that it was his essay from Monday's exam. He watched as the professor skim read it, and swallowed thickly. God, this is like torture!

After a few moments, the professor raised an eyebrow and held out the piece of paper for Ozzy to take, a small smirk on his face.

Ozzy didn't waste any time in trying to decipher what that smirk could mean, and simply snatched it from him. He darted his eyes over the page as he searched for the grade, and couldn't help but let a small smile crawl across his face upon seeing that there weren't any corrections, no big question marks, no notes.

Normally his essays would be given back to him covered in red pen and angry scrawling from his teachers about how useless he was, so surely the fact that it was completely blank meant that he'd done a good job this time, right?

However, all his hopes were dashed, destroyed and decimated as soon as he turned the paper over and saw the final grade at the bottom of the page: a big, fat F.

He read the little note underneath it, his breath faltering as he read the words 'incomprehensible, illegible and indecipherable.'

He raised his gaze to look the professor in the eye. "W-what does this mean?" he asked weakly, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"Exactly what I wrote; just like your apology letter, this essay is completely unreadable."

Ozzy swallowed thickly as he felt a sting of shame in his throat. "So… so this grade is based on my handwriting…?"

"Tell me, Jones, how am I meant to grade a paper I can't read?"

Ozzy's breath caught in his throat, and despite his best efforts, his body started to tremble. "You coulda asked me to read it out to you before grading it."

"Jones, I don't have time to sit down with you and try to decipher your… cacography."

"My caco… what?"

"Your horrendous handwriting."

Ozzy lowered his arms to rest them on his thighs. "B-but… isn't that your job… as a teacher?"

The professor tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. "I only help the students who help themselves, not the spoiled brats who spend all their time pissing about and not taking anything seriously."

Ozzy's mouth fell open at that, and he glared at the professor as all his reserve and apprehension suddenly melted away. "You don't know what you're talkin' about. This is serious to me!"

The professor leaned forward and rested one elbow on the desk. "Oh, so breaking into my office in the middle of the night and covering my belongings with aluminium foil is you being 'serious', is it?"

Ozzy stood up and threw his arms in the air. "So what if I put some fuckin' foil on your dusty old books? It didn't hurt 'em, did it?! It was completely harmless!" He slammed his fist onto the desk and shouted, "you're willing to fuck up my entire future over some stupid prank?!"

"Tsk tsk, so easy to get a confession out of ya. I thought you were meant to be the detective here", Professor Roja said mockingly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, that is it!" Ozzy yelled, scrunching up the essay into a little ball and throwing it down on the desk. "Let's settle this now. It's one thing to torment me in class, but it's a totally different thing to purposefully give me a bad grade! This could affect my whole life, y'know!? It's so fuckin' unprofessional of you!"

The professor rolled his eyes. "I got one word for ya, boy: nepotism. Do you really think one bad grade is gonna affect you in any way? You're the son of the police Chief, for Frank's sake. Nah, you'll end up with a cushy, well-paid job at the expense of the taxpayer without even having to lift a finger."

Ozzy slammed both hands on the desk and leaned closer. "You don't know the first thing about me! He's not my fuckin' dad, alright? My parents left me with him when they decided they didn't want anything to do with me anymore, and…"

"Pfft, I don't blame them", the professor interrupted, turning his head to the side, "if I had a kid as arrogant and moronic as you, I'd give him up too."

Silence fell upon the room save for Ozzy's sharp gasp, and even Professor Roja knew he'd gone too far this time. He turned to look at Ozzy again, his eyes widening slightly as soon as he saw the contorted expression on his face, a mixture of anger, confusion and hurt.

The professor froze in place, not knowing quite how to react. He'd never been very good at dealing with his own emotions, let alone someone else's. Yes, he was used to intimidating or frightening the people around him, in fact he revelled in it, but sadness? Hurt? Disappointment? These emotions were on a whole other level of deep and complex, and it petrified him.

Not knowing what else to do, he reached out to take Ozzy's wrist in his hand. "Jones… that came out wrong, I didn't mean…"

"No, you meant it", Ozzy spat. He snatched his hand away and cursed as he felt a sharp pain coming from his palm. He looked down at his hand and gasped when he saw the cytoplasm now seeping out of a deep cut across his whole palm, the skin around it turning dark blue and swollen.

"You cut me…" he said quietly.

"Don't be such a baby, you know I didn't mean to. Besides, it's just a little scratch." He reached out to take Ozzy's hand again and said softly, "here, give me your han-"

"Don't call me a baby!" Ozzy snapped, pressing his thumb onto his wound as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

The professor blinked at him for a moment, before withdrawing his hand and scrunching up his face. "Then stop acting like one and start treating the adults around you with a bit of respect!"

"Respect?! You wanna talk about respect?!" Ozzy inhaled sharply, his breaths stuttering, and looked down to try and hide the fact that his eyes were now brimming with tears. "You think anyone's ever treated me with respect? No, every single adult in my life who was meant to care about me, didn't."

He tensed his hands into fists, oblivious to the way his cytoplasm trickled down his palm and seeped through the gaps in his fingers as his nails dug into the cut. "So excuse me if I'm 'arrogant' or 'disrespectful', but it's not like I ever got treated with any respect in the first place."

Professor Roja felt an unusual pang of guilt in his chest upon hearing how Ozzy's usually assertive voice faltered, the way his confident, laid-back posture was now much more tense and insecure.

There was something about him that seemed… smaller. "Please, sit down, I want to talk about your essay some more, I'm sure there's a way we can-"

Ozzy snapped his head up to glare at the professor, his eyes shiny as a few tears were now threatening to fall. "What difference does it make? I failed. It's just like everyone's always told me. I'm stupid. An idiot. A nobody. A waste of fuckin' space. Like you said, I'll just end up working as a cleaner in the fuckin' spleen."

The professor stood up and started walking around the desk towards him, concern plastered over his face. "I didn't really mean it when I said that, I barely knew you then…"

Ozzy glowered at him and grabbed the chair to put it between the two of them. "Don't come anywhere near me", he spat, backing away slowly, "I fuckin' hate you."

"I know you're upset, but just listen to me."

Ozzy stayed in place as the professor drew closer, staring him down despite every fibre of his nucleus screaming at him to get away from him as quickly as possible.

His breath caught in his throat as the professor stilled just in front of him, the caring, almost sympathetic look that was now melted over his face only making Ozzy angrier. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To push me until I broke and see me fuckin' cry", he hissed, his voice laced with anger and shame.

"Of course not, now calm down and we can talk about-"

"Get the fuck away from me, I don't wanna talk about anything with you!" Ozzy shouted up at him, lifting the chair in the air and threatening to hit him with it.

The professor didn't budge. "Put the chair dow-", he started to say, but Ozzy had already heard enough.

He dropped the chair, grabbed the pen holder from the desk and hurled it at the professor, hoping to distract him long enough to run past him and get out of his office. He pushed on the door handle and inhaled sharply when it didn't open. Wha-? It's fuckin' locked?! he thought, gasping as he suddenly felt a hand around his wrist.

He spun his head to look up at the professor with wide eyes, his heart thudding in his chest. He tried to tear his arm out of his grasp, but this only made him tighten his hold.

"Calm the fuck down and listen to me!" the professor ordered as he leaned down to his level and pulled him closer to him.

'Calm down'. The very last thing Ozzy needed to hear right now. "I don't need to fuckin' calm down! I need you to let go of me!" he yelled, the panic now rising in his throat, threatening to choke him.

He grabbed onto the professor's hand and tried to pry his claws from around his wrist. "Get off me! I said get OFF!" he cried out, digging his nails into his skin.

He looked back up at the professor and could see his mouth moving, but his voice seemed so far away. All he could hear was that little voice in his head screaming at him to get out of this office, to do whatever it took to escape and get away from this virus as fast as he could.

Cytoplasm burned in his throat, his breathing becoming more ragged and his chest tightening as he continued to try and pry his arm out of his grasp, every attempt only making his claws dig in deeper.

He could taste his own cytoplasm in his mouth now, could practically smell it in the air, feeling how it stuck to his lungs, to his throat, like acid, making him feel as if he was drowning, suffocating, dying.

"Please! Let go of me! I don't want-", he started to plead, hating how desperate and feeble his voice sounded, but he was interrupted by the professor suddenly yanking on his arm and pulling him into his chest.

This was it, this was how he was going to die. Ozzy's chest felt like it was going to explode. He could hear how his cytoplasm rushed in his ears, how his breathing shuddered, how his sobs turned into desperate gasps for air as panic started to close his throat and darkness pulled at the corners of his vision.

He tried to push against the professor's chest with his free hand and kicked his legs out to hit him in the shin, the knee, the crotch, anywhere to make him let go, but he didn't. In fact, this only seemed to encourage him further, and Ozzy gasped as he felt him snake his arms around him, resting one on the small of his back with the other tightly wrapped around both shoulders.

This must be how he kills, Ozzy thought, like a boa constrictor, slowly squeezing tighter and tighter, cutting off circulation and crushing his prey bit by bit, leaving them weaker and more helpless with every passing second.

Ozzy made another attempt to wiggle away, before admitting defeat and sinking into his arms, completely exhausted.

He knew it was a stupid idea to try and go against a virus, especially one as large and virulent as Professor Roja, but as always, he'd thrown his common sense out the window and picked a fight with someone he really shouldn't have, and now it was too late to turn back.

"Please…" Ozzy said shakily, his voice hitching in his throat, "I just… wanna leave…" He breathed in raggedly as the tears continued to fall, but the professor only tightened his hold.

"Shh, Jones, it's okay, you'll be fine. Just breathe."

Ozzy flinched at that, the professor's unusually soft tone cutting through his panic like a knife and bringing him back to reality. Wait. He… he isn't trying to kill me?

"Try to steady your breathing… copy what I do. Inhale through your nose… one, two, three, four, five…"

Ozzy did as he was told and breathed in. It felt thick, like his throat was full of honey, hot and sticky and disgusting, but he kept inhaling until he heard the professor speak again.

"Okay, now exhale through your mouth…" Ozzy breathed out, feeling as his muscles started to loosen and the screaming in his head became less intense.

"Good. Now we're just gonna keep doing that for a bit, okay? Keep copying what I do."

A few seconds passed, then a few minutes, and the adrenaline that was aggressively pumping around Ozzy's body lessened slightly as he followed the professor's breathing.

It seemed to take forever for it to even out, for the knot in his stomach to unwind, but eventually he started to feel grounded again, his thoughts less muddled.

He gripped onto the professor's sweater, desperately needing something to hold onto. The blinding panic had mostly dissipated, but it had left a deep, dark hole for reality to set in.

Weak.

Worthless.

Waste.

The only words ricocheting around his head. Everyone had been right about him all along. He really couldn't do anything.

He tensed his hands around his sweater and took a deep breath. "It's… so unfair. I stud… studied for hours… sat at my… desk… and learned every fuckin' word… in that module."

"Shh…"

"Everyone was right about me… I can't… do anything… I'm useless."

Professor Roja held the back of his head and nuzzled against Ozzy's cheek, whispering, "it's okay, it's okay, don't think about that, just breathe."

"Mhm", was all Ozzy managed to say, burying his face in the professor's shoulder. Warm. He melted into his arms and relaxed against his chest. Welcoming. He lowered his hands and rested them on the professor's waist, allowing himself to be held for a few moments as his breathing continued to return to normal.

The shoulder of the professor's sweater was completely drenched with his tears by this point, so Ozzy turned his head to the side to nuzzle into his chest instead. "Your sweater… I-I'm sorry…" he whispered.

The professor simply shushed him again and continued breathing deeply. "It's okay, everything's fine."

Ozzy nodded and shut his eyes, wrapping his arms around his waist to pull him as close as possible. It's okay. Everything's fine. Everything is fine…

Everything was, in fact, not fine. It was the complete opposite of fine. His professor, the man that Ozzy hated more than anyone, the person he resented even more than his own parents, was hugging him. And Ozzy was hugging him back. It was wrong, totally, utterly wrong.

Why, then, did it feel so right? Why did it feel like everything Ozzy had needed all his life? Everything he felt like he should have received as a kid?

During the last few minutes, the professor had shown Ozzy more compassion and understanding than his parents ever did.

Despite the overwhelming shame that Ozzy was feeling over his tear-stained cheeks, his puffy eyes, how utterly pathetic he looked right now, he wanted nothing more than to look into the professor's eyes, and for him to look into his.

He had absolutely no way of conveying his gratitude for the kind, selfless, completely unexpected way he'd stopped Ozzy from spiralling any further, but he hoped that his eyes could somehow express that to him.

Just then, as if he knew, the professor slid his arms from around him and brought his hands up to cup Ozzy's cheeks. He leaned down to his level and tried to put on the softest expression he could. "You okay?"

Ozzy nodded quickly and averted his eyes, but the professor insisted. "Are you okay?"

Ozzy looked up at him again, rolling his gaze over the professor's face. His expression was so kind, so caring, so warm.

He'd finally found it. The thing he'd been looking for all this time, something so tangible yet so abstract. Home.

"I'm fine. Thanks for… y'know… before."

The corners of the professor's mouth turned up into a smile. "Don't mention it." He wiped away the tears from Ozzy's cheeks with his thumbs, before taking his wrist in his hand and turning it over to look at the cut on his palm. "I'll get you a band-aid", he said quietly, letting go of Ozzy to head back to his desk.

Ozzy trailed behind him and stood by his side, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other as he watched the professor rummaging around one of his drawers.

Professor Roja left a band-aid on the desk, and Ozzy reached out to take it, but the professor tutted. "Wait a second", he said, taking Ozzy's hand again. He gently wiped the cut with a tissue and placed the plaster over it, pressing his thumb on top.

They both stayed like this for a few seconds, and Ozzy was, once again, reminded of the sombre fact that no one had ever actually done anything like this for him before.

If he ever grazed his knee or cut himself as a kid, his parents would never have cared for him like this, and would have probably just yelled at him for being so clumsy, or not take any notice and tell him to shut up when he inevitably started crying.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt safe, cared for, cared about.

He flinched then as the professor pressed just a touch too hard on the plaster, but soon relaxed as he felt him stroke the back of his hand with one of his claws.

"There, I think that should be fine now", Professor Roja said softly, raising his eyes to meet Ozzy's, and, oh God, was that a mistake.

Staring straight back at him through dark, thick lashes was a pair of warm, liquid brown eyes, shiny from the tears, his pupils completely blown.

The professor parted his lips and drew a breath, gliding his eyes over Ozzy's face as he tried to take in every single detail, from the faint purple blush over his cheeks to the flutter of his eyelids, from the adorable little speckles under his membrane to the way his small, translucent curls flopped over his forehead.

He gripped harder onto Ozzy's hand, pulling him slightly closer. How can he look so fucking good right now? I mean… I knew he was attractive, that's obvious, but God damn…

The professor couldn't help but drop his head, closing the gap between them, his gaze completely stuck on him.

Ozzy's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. Why's he lookin' at me like that? Oh, of course, he's mad, he's upset, he's totally uncomfortable right now. Who wouldn't be?

He cleared his throat and pulled his arm away, shifting backwards somewhat. "Why do you have so many plasters in your office then?" he mumbled, desperate to break the silence.

The professor blinked, before taking a breath and letting a small smile break out on his face. "You think I don't sometimes nick myself with these claws?" He straightened himself and gestured with his head towards the door. "Go sort yourself out and then we can take another look at your essay, together."

Ozzy stared up at him for a second. Normally if he'd been so emotionally vulnerable in front of someone, he would take any and every opportunity to get away from them as quickly as possible. But, for some reason, the last thing he wanted to do right now was leave.

What he really wanted was to fall back into the professor's arms. For him to hold him and stroke his head and tell him that he was okay, that everything was okay.

However, it was obvious that the professor didn't feel the same way, so he simply nodded and turned around, dragging his feet. He reached the door and pulled. Oh, it was never locked… you just gotta pull it… He must've thought I was such an idiot, he thought, as he opened the door and headed down the corridor towards the bathroom.

Professor Roja exhaled deeply as soon as Ozzy had shut the door behind him, and he brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Shit."

What the actual hell just happened?

He and Jones had been arguing, and yes it was heated, tense, but it was normal, something to be expected between them.

Then, suddenly, it was as if a switch had been flipped. There was something about seeing someone so bold and defiant completely break down before his very eyes that had triggered something in the professor.

In that moment, seeing Jones so vulnerable, raw and exposed awoke something in Professor Roja, or rather, reminded him of something, of someone, once.

Maybe he and Jones weren't so different after all.