Him
T HE PROFESSOR WOKE up to find her gone.
And his first thought was, I should've expected it.
He couldn't even blame her. She had every right to run, with all the baggage he carried. He was her teacher, he had HIV, and the last girl he had a relationship with had killed herself because he was a prick.
So no, if he had to be fucking honest, a part of him had long expected this. If anything, he was actually surprised she lasted this long and got this far. So now, the question was... did he run after her or let this stand as a lesson for him?
He walked into the shower, hoping the hot blast of water could help clear his head, but all it did was let memories of last night infiltrate his mind.
It had been the first and only time he spent the entire night with a woman and not touched her, and while Matthijs wanted to think it was because fucking a girl crying her heart out held no appeal, he knew it had been more than that.
Last night, listening to her cry and knowing that her tears were all for him, it just hadn't felt fucking right to touch her in any way that wasn't pure. All he had been able to do was hold her, kiss her fucking hair, and murmur idiotic nothings to her ear.
Maybe he had been wrong about her, he reflected humorlessly. The power she wielded over him from the moment they met...it had once made him think of her as his downfall. But maybe it was the other way around, and she was his soul's salvation, with her ability to turn a sinner like him into a...well, a saint would be cutting it too fine, so maybe she had just enough power to turn him into a eunuch?
Then again, none of it mattered now, did it?
She was gone, and it was time for him to move on.
Stepping out of his bedroom, the professor forced himself to stick to his usual Sunday routine and headed down to the kitchen. His movements were purely mechanical, preparing his breakfast shake and the assortment of pills he had to take.
This, he thought broodingly, was how life was going to be, from here on.
It was when he was on his way to his personal basement that he heard it.
Music streaming from the garden, and the professor absently rifled through his memory banks for the title of the song.
God Only Knows...
Since when did Dan, his head gardener, start listening to The Beach Boys?
He was about to turn the corner that led to the other hallway when he heard something else - a soft, feminine voice, humming alongside the music - and the professor tensed.
It couldn't be.
But the sweet humming went on, and before he knew it, his feet was already moving, and then he was breaking into a run, his heart banging against the walls of his chest.
Let it be her.
Let it be her.
Let it be her.
He was panting by the time he made it to the sliding glass doors that opened to the patio, out of breath not because of overexertion but out of sheer dread.
Because he was hoping, he was goddamn hoping, and at the same time, he was fucking terrified it would all be just a dream.
But it wasn't.
Because she was there.
Diana .
She was seated on the steps, her dark hair loose against her bare back, and an empty bowl of cereal placed next to her. She still had last night's lovely dress - the sexiest fucking red dress he had ever seen, with her tits threatening to spill out every time her body trembled the slightest bit. But she had ditched her stilettos and gone barefoot, and the sight of it was erotic.
He must've made some noise after that. Or maybe it was her soul finally heeding the call of his own. Either way, she was suddenly twisting around, and his face appeared to have mirrored his fears, because she only took one look at him, and then she was once again rushing towards him—-
Bam.
His arms closed around her the moment she slammed into his embrace.
Looking down, he started to joke about her penchant for crashing into him, but she beat him to speaking.
"I'm sorry." Her voice was wobbling. "I'm so sorry." And her eyes were welling up with tears. "I didn't think you'd even think I would leave you."
Ah.
And just like that, he was no longer in any mood to fuck around.
Just like that, he could no longer hold the words back.
Just like that, she owned him.
"I love you." The words were ripped out of him.
"And I you." She was crying again. "So, so much."
"But I thought you left me."
"I never would."
"I wouldn't have run after you if you had."
"Then I'd have c-come after you."
His arms tightened around her, his eyes squeezing shut as he felt her body shake against him.
"I don't think I can ever make it," he said hoarsely, "if you leave me."
"Then stop thinking of it." He felt her fingers grip his shirt. "Because it will never happen."
And for countless moments, they simply stood there, listening to each other's heartbeats. It made the most beautiful music because every beat meant the both of them still lived, together.
"Professor..."
He looked down at her.
"Make love to me?"