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048 » but miles don't make your image fade

[ For Ms. Caulignont's literature class, Mr. Haillenarte is a novelty.

Arriving to replace his predecessor after his students have endured a string of hit-and-miss substitutes, the young teacher's appearance immediately sets him apart — predicted was a bespectacled, balding scholar, but Francel de Haillenarte looks youthful enough to be fresh out of his teens, if even that. Some see an inexperienced pushover sure to let them coast through the year, while others doubt their newly appointed teacher's ability to teach the class at all. Others again already feel sorry for the man.

Zephirin finds Mr. Haillenarte promising.

He's noticed a few things by now, a couple of days into these new developments, and he's certain that they're not the product of his imagination. Mr. Haillenarte blushes easily — the consensus is that it's cute. More specifically, all Zephirin needs to do is to make eye contact perhaps slightly too long when the man takes attendance or calls on him to read aloud and answer questions in class. Mr. Haillenarte, the boy thinks, enjoys the sound of his voice.

It's turned into something of a private game, nothing that would fuel gossip and cost his teacher not only his position at Ishgard High, but his entire reputation. Maybe a private game is all it should stay, but Mr. Haillenarte seems the sort to perceive it as bullying, and so Zephirin takes it upon himself to set the record straight.

After class at the end of the day, when his classmates rush out into the halls towards the evening's freedom soon cut short by homework, he declines walking with his friends to linger in the classroom, leisurely gathering up his books. His bag slung over his shoulder, he stops beside the teacher's desk at the front of the room. ]

Mr. Haillenarte? Do you have a moment?

[ Casually, Zephirin's fingers adjust his open collar, toying with his shirt's uppermost button — the air conditioning hasn't done much against the classroom's stuffy heat. ]

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[ This is unexpected, from Francel's resting his head against Zephirin's shoulder to the man's suggestion — gone is the flustered young teacher from just a couple of minutes ago, blushing and stammering, and in his place is a Francel de Haillenarte who looks entirely at ease right where he is, who hasn't made the assumption that Zephirin would give the second movie pass to Guerrique or someone else. Zephirin doesn't pinch himself to make sure that he isn't dreaming, fully aware that he is awake and that his teacher is solid, but he studies Francel in quiet contemplation for a moment. He has to wonder what might have changed to convince the man that they could at least spend more time together as friends. ]

So would I. [ Their faces are ilms apart, barely. ] Then it's settled — unless you're a picky buyer?

[ In which case, Zephirin accepts the challenge, though they could easily arrange a movie date even without winning the 10,000 gil reward, and turns the next page for Francel to peruse: this one boasts an assortment of holiday-themed figurines, fortunately not the tacky kind. ]

[practically drunk off zephirin's warmth and proximity, francel seems like a teacher no longer — instead, he is a boy much younger, a soft and vulnerable freshman or sophomore perhaps. he looks very comfortable and sleepy. through a haze of pleasant feelings, he wishes zephirin would touch his ears directly, or at least wrap an arm around him.]

Mmmm. You'll have to try. I don't really buy things unless I need them.

[...at least, that's what he says. despite this assertion, however, francel smiles and laughs quite easily at the holiday figurines — little statues of saint valeroyant and saint reinette, surrounded by animals, all clad in robes of red.]

Aww... these are so cute! If only they had a bunny.

Edited 2019-02-19 18:27 (UTC)

[ The catalog is reasonably thick for what it is — maybe there is a bunny somewhere within its pages, something sufficiently cute to charm Francel's heart. It won't cost 10,000 gil, but Zephirin could cover the price himself. Softly, close to Francel's ear, the boy hums again, this time in amusement. ]

Does that mean I can't tempt you into collecting every saint? [ No one needs to fill a cabinet shelf with tiny, intricately crafted renditions of Ishgard's many storied saints, not even a historian's son. ] It seems I'll have to try much harder...

[ The catalog's pages rustle; Zephirin smooths another pair flat. His hair brushes against Francel's ear as he tips his head forward. ]

Would you tell me what you might need?

[francel needs an ear rub, first and foremost, but he keeps that to himself. he sighs with contentment as zephirin's voice resonates warmly in his ear; past his socks, his shoes politely removed at the entrance to the home, his toes wiggle.]

Mmmm... heeheehee. I don't need anything...

[he is pliant, relaxed, warm. zephirin's hair is tickling his ear.]

I like books and clothes... but those probably won't be in a holiday catalog. Cute ornaments and plush toys, maybe. Or cookies... or blankets. Maybe a bathrobe? I've been cold at home lately.

[ Even if the catalog has no books or clothes on offer, Zephirin's appreciation for his teacher's detailed answer is evident in his faint smile. He knows about Francel's interest in reading, of course, and the rabbit figurine in the man's car, but the rest is new information, and he eagerly soaks up every word, as if learning more about Francel this way is itself a refreshing glass of chilled juice on a hot summer's day.

They keep going, coming across most of the items on Francel's list, including festive embroidered homewear, even cozy blankets. Suddenly, there might be too much to choose from — a two-page spread is filled with a range of stuffed animals, dressed not unlike the saints in their red robes.

Zephirin's fingers, long and slender, trail from image to image. He casts Francel a glance. ]

Can I interest you in anything here?

[francel is a pickier buyer than zephirin may have prepared for. the festively embroidered homewear did not come in colors that he preferred, and the cozy blankets seemed too expensive for what they were, and he shook his head at everything his student pointed out to him, his hair tickling zephirin's cheek with each movement.

these stuffed animals, however, catch his attention. though he doesn't say anything immediately, francel's breath catches when he spots a stuffed rabbit with snow-white fur and a red hood — the hood comes with holes for its fluffy ears, and its cloak is held together with a green ribbon. the photos show the rabbit at several angles. francel cannot help but whine softly in desire.]

Oh... oh, look at the little rabbit...

This one?

[ Following Francel's gaze, leaning into him slightly, Zephirin taps his forefinger against a corner of the first picture on the page, in which the Starlight rabbit looks out at prospective buyers, its stitched mouth plaintive. The toy costs nowhere near 10,000 gil, but it's undeniably cute, something that would make a good gift to give Francel — whether or not the man needs a plush rabbit, he very clearly wants it, eyes hazy with the wish written across his face. ]

For no more than 4,500 gil, this rabbit could be yours.

[ Every previous item had some flaw to point out, and Zephirin wasn't bent on twisting his teacher's arm to persuade him to settle for just any purchase, but the rabbit has captivated Francel without Zephirin's commentary. Still, simply to observe Francel's reaction, the boy ventures to entice him further. ]

He looks well made... Ah, I see, these even come in different sizes, so you could sacrifice some fluff and more to hold in exchange for portability, or indulge.

I want the fluff...!

[even at its largest, the starlight rabbit is not especially big, and besides, it seems cutest in its biggest size, its small mouth all the more kissable. the smaller rabbits could be repurposed as keychains, but the largest is enough for francel to cherish and hold.

the teacher — no longer a teacher so much as a slightly intoxicated young man drunk off physical contact — looks plaintively up at his student, as though he is a teenage girl attempting to wheedle her boyfriend into buying her gifts.]

Zephirin, I'll take one. I'll love him and cherish him and indulge in every square ilm of him. I promise.

[ Francel's expression rivals the rabbit's, and if Zephirin weren't already planning to buy the toy for his teacher, he would give in now to bring the man and the Starlight rabbit together. He allows himself a fleeting fantasy: Francel, unwrapping the package containing his selection, delight blossoming upon his features, brightening them as he opens it and picks up the rabbit. Maybe he would start indulging in every square ilm of it by kissing its mouth, or its blushing cheeks.

In this fantasy, at least, maybe he would wrap his arms around Zephirin to thank him, too.

In the here and now, it's enough that they're sitting so close, that Francel gazes up at him like this, unabashed. Zephirin's lips curve. ]

I don't doubt that you will. I'll put your details down on the order form, then?

Yay!

[despite the childish cheer, francel is slowly recollecting himself, sobering up just a tiny bit now that zephirin is no longer deliberately whispering into his ear. he is too close to zephirin, he knows, and zephirin is still his student, even if the boy is warm and his arm is deliciously firm with muscle. francel sits up, somewhat sheepishly — suddenly, his side feels cold.]

And maybe that money will buy us a few extra books to go around. ...I was really touched, by the way. When the class was reading Leylines, you actually returned yours in better condition than you got it.

[francel had been privately disappointed that luck of the draw had given zephirin the most tattered book in the stacks — its pages dog-eared, cover nearly torn — but zephirin had shown up to class with the book taped and mended, not exactly good as new, but serviceable enough to last a few more years.]

Edited 2019-02-22 17:52 (UTC)

[ When Francel moves, Zephirin is forced to draw back slightly to prevent a minor collision — immediately, with the pleasantly warm weight against his side gone, he feels the difference himself, but his subtle smile doesn't falter, softening for Francel's praise. His efforts to salvage his copy of the book hadn't been a calculated plan to impress his teacher; nevertheless, he welcomes knowing that Francel noticed, that the gesture might have made the man smile. ]

I hope so. I'll have to work on my sales techniques — if you're willing to let me continue?

[ Francel's hair looks mussed after his leaning against Zephirin's shoulder, and the boy reaches out, brushing a lock of it into place, knuckles passing lightly across the blade of Francel's ear. The movement comes naturally, without hesitation, as if it follows on from their comfortable sitting together. ]

Of course you can continue. I mean, this is good practice for — mmmnn...

[immediately, francel's eyelids lower as zephirin's gentle touch makes his ear tingle in a wonderful way — the young man seems to melt once more, tension leaving his shoulders all at once. his body sags where he sits.]

Nnn. I just told you they're sensitive...

[but the young teacher certainly doesn't look as though he's displeased. if anything, he seems as though he enjoys it, as he's leaned ever so slightly into zephirin's touch, cheek pressed against the boy's fingers.

is this, really, still innocent?]

Your ears... I know. I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself.

[ This consequence of Zephirin's touch was unintentional, and he sounds suitably contrite, but he can tell that Francel's reproach is halfhearted, at odds with the man's physical response. He feels Francel seek more, cheek soft and warm against his palm. In turn, he doesn't take his hand away, letting it rest fully upon the side of his teacher's face, fingers splayed so that their ends meet Francel's ear.

There's no excuse to explain it, no pretext such as an act of too-helpful intervention to tidy Francel's hair, but Zephirin has the man's tacit consent to maintain the contact — and no one else will know.

Watching his teacher, taking in Francel's relaxed posture, the boy considers that Francel might be someone who would quickly blame himself for this, might even go so far as to resign over it. It seems reasonable to make it clear that he hasn't taken advantage of his student and failed as a teacher. ]

Francel... [ Zephirin speaks quietly, leaning forward an ilm, though he resists stroking his teacher's cheek. ] There's something that I should tell you.

Yesss...?

[francel's answer comes out slurred, ever so slightly drawn out, as he tries to resist the urge to rub his cheek into his student's palm. wrong, wrong, wrong — this is wrong, this could get you fired, some rational part of francel is still screaming at him, but touch turns him pliant, petlike, eager to please. he lifts his head when zephirin leans forward, as if in anticipation of a kiss.]

[ With his head tipped back, his gaze soft, Francel seems to invite a kiss, criminally appealing — but Zephirin wouldn't be the one committing a crime. Their proximity is heady, and Zephirin's lips part slightly before pressing closed.

He won't go too far. ]

I'd like for us to be friends, outside of school, which makes it all the more important to be honest with you. [ Withdrawing his hand now, Zephirin sits up, if only because he wants Francel to hear him, thoughts clear. Otherwise it borders on the equivalent of drugging the man into compliance. ] I would never do anything to cost you your job and your reputation, but I think you're attracted to me — you should know that I feel the same way about you.

Edited 2019-02-23 23:58 (UTC)

[francel's expression does not change — his wide eyes and his slightly parted lips remain frozen in place, but the sparkle in his eyes seems to change, his pupils somehow sharper, more alert. he cannot believe what he has just heard. zephirin? zephirin is attracted to him?

this must be — again — a joke.]

I... I'm sorry?

[no longer "drunk," francel draws back a few ilms, his cheeks coloring. first of all, the teacher was not even remotely aware that zephirin knew that francel was attracted to him!]

I — w-wait. I — and you — and... you... are...

[ Francel draws away, flustered again, but Zephirin reaches for his teacher's hands, covering them with his palms, fingertips laid against Francel's wrists. He meets Francel's wide-eyed gaze, holds it — his expression is earnest. ]

Am I wrong?

[ Nothing in his manner suggests that this is a joke at Francel's expense, but that may not reassure the man, considering that Zephirin's sense of humour tends to be fairly restrained. The boy tilts his head, falling silent to let his confession register. ]

Y-Y-You're not! I mean, you are! I mean —

[francel wants to cover his face with his hands, but then zephirin has them in his own, and then francel can't move can't think can't — just can't. he looks as though he might cry, though whether from joy or sadness it's impossible to say.

to make matters worse, there are still birds chirping outside. somehow, it wouldn't be so bad if it were raining, like it was the first time he came to zephirin's home.]

I do... l-like you, and I'm sorry for... for doing so, but you...

[his voice rises to a squeak.]

Me?

[ Zephirin notices it, that his distressed teacher seems near tears — an alarming realization. Very lightly, the injured rabbit before him again, he squeezes Francel's hands, the pads of his thumbs warm against the center of each palm. He leans forward once more, only looking intently at Francel. ]

Can you blame me? I could list more than a few reasons to explain it.

[ Pausing, Zephirin awaits his teacher's reaction, fully prepared to elaborate in detail, if Francel will hear him out. The late afternoon light streams in through the window, and Francel's hair shimmers golden, eye-catching on its own. ]

I — I...

[biting his lip, francel stares, transfixed, into zephirin's spring-green eyes. he returns the squeeze to zephirin's hands, but he pulls back when zephirin leans forward — the injured rabbit seems skittish, frightened, indeed on the verge of running away.]

I think... I think you're just confused.

[he blurts out, not really thinking about how such a dismissive response might hurt zephirin.]

I do... like you very much. And I know... that I shouldn't. But you... I-I understand that you must be attracted to me. But you — you're only in high school. When you go to college — when you get out into the world and you meet more people — you'll realize that I'm not, I'm not all that, a-and...

[ It's a sensible adult's argument, but Francel is barely out of his teens himself, and his words sound forced to Zephirin's ears, as if the man is trying to convince himself that his student is too young and inexperienced to know anything of the world. Rather than giving Zephirin advice, he must be afraid, scrambling to discourage the feelings between them.

At least for now, Zephirin doesn't give chase when Francel shrinks away, though he hasn't let go of his teacher's hands. ]

I know that I shouldn't expect anything to happen, myself. Even so, I find it difficult to believe that the people you meet in high school matter less than the people you meet in college, or through work... There are married couples who started dating around my age, or even younger. Have they missed out on meeting someone else?

N-No! But... that's... different. I...

[with the desperation of a burglar on the run from uniformed officers, francel casts his mind about, seeking possible alternatives. his cheeks are still pink, and his palms now feel obscenely warm between zephirin's hands. at the very least, he doesn't seem as though he's about to bolt from his seat for the nearest window.]

I... can't be the first to find you attractive. But I don't know why you would like me. Just... take a step back, okay? Maybe... maybe it's just that I'm the first man who's been attracted to you or...

Edited 2019-02-28 01:52 (UTC)

[ Finally, Zephirin relents, releasing Francel to sit back on his side of the sofa, fingers loosely laced in his lap. Gaze firmly kept on his teacher, however, the boy shakes his head. ]

It's nice to have it confirmed, but I would like you regardless — I've had fun spending time with you outside of class. I don't mean to make it all about your appearance, even if I like that just as much.

[ Lowering his eyes, Zephirin glances at the fundraising catalog, now closed and set aside. ]

S-Stop saying that you like me!

[again, the young teacher seems on the verge of tears, near despairing, and yet — yet, when zephirin pulls back, francel leans forward, on his hands and knees, catlike. there is an odd, embarrassed, desperate expression on his face. no doubt he himself is having difficulty processing the situation. what should he be feeling? what should he be doing?]

Y-You could have anyone else... someone who... who's nicer and better-looking and makes more money and isn't your teacher a-and I like you too!

[...he seems to realize what he's said only after a moment.]

[ On the one hand, Francel looks genuinely upset, and Zephirin won't pressure him into doing anything with today's conversation against his will, but on the other, he moved closer of his own accord even as Zephirin placed a little distance between them. Zephirin's gaze flicks back up from the catalog's cover; reflexively, his hands twitch with the sudden urge to catch Francel. He places them flat on his knees.

Their confessions are probably turning very high school for a second, but at least neither of them has to clarify that he like-likes the other. Francel has repeated how he feels a few times over the past handful of minutes — this time, it's different, filled with the same desperation written across his features. It's as if he has given in, given up, accepting that Zephirin isn't interested in a hypothetical anyone else.

The boy smiles. ]

I remember telling you that you're perfect the way you are... I stand by what I said back then, Mr. Haillenarte, sir.

[ Deliberately, he doesn't use Francel's forename for once — it doesn't matter to him that the man is his teacher. Graduation isn't far away, and as he said at the start, he has no intention of ruining his teacher's life. ]

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