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Final Bell
Title: Final Bell
Fandom: The Velvet Key
Character(s): Ingrid, Neah, John, Issei, Sanaki, V/V, implied others
Pairing(s): Nada
Genre: Drama
Prompt: Ending
Rating: PG
Warning: Sappy
Summary: I love you all. Class dismissed.
“There will be an exam over this next Tuesday, I suggest” Riiiiiing. “That you study more than just cramming the night before. The exam will not be multiple choice and spelling will count. Yes, yes stop with those long suffered looks and go on. Enjoy your weekend.”
They rush out with fire at their heels, chattering about parties and football games and clothes and significant others. I’m sure I hear the word beer from the crowd. It should be my place to say something. I can’t muster the energy to care.
A few students stay in their seats, and within minutes more come by and join them. Their eyes are on me, expectant, hopeful, distressed, and scared. I stare evenly back.
“I do not recall giving anyone of you detention this evening. Not even you Mr. Walker. In fact you don’t even attend this school anymore and I’m sure you don’t have a visitor’s pass.” I expect a smartass reply and when I don’t receive one, I drop my gaze back to my paperwork. “Go home, you all must have things to attend to in light of recent events. Loose ends to tie up and all that.”
“That’s why we’re here.” He smiles from the corner, sheepish when I point at him to pull down his hood.
“We need some final wisdom, teacher.” He adjusts his glasses, so serious for his age. “What do we do now?”
“As you’ve always done. We may be leaving but that doesn’t change how you should act.”
“What if we don’t remember being here? Each other or what happened?” It’s not the first time I’ve seen an angel cry, but I know this will be the last.
“Then nothing I say would really matter. “ I sigh. “I have no advice to give on this. I can only say I am proud of you. For all you’ve done in this world. I know you’ll each do well, no matter the circumstance. If you remember this place, I know you’ll be exceptional and as much an inspiration to those around you than you have been to me.”
“Aren’t you going to tell us you love us?” The dark complexioned man in the corner says snidely.
“Excuse me?”
“This is the part we ask you to tell us your true feelings and you decide that’s too unprofessional and wait until we walk away to confess how much we mean to you.” The bite to his tone doesn’t quite match his eyes.
I laugh.
“You’ve watched one too many reruns. “
“You’re really not going to say anything?” Her voice is tiny, sounding more like the child she is than the leader she claimed to be.
I look at them, really look at them. They’ve changed in these years, as children ought to. They’ve grown, eyes wiser, bodies larger, and voices stronger. They’ve come together, stood united by circumstance and necessity, by friendship and common ground. They’re not the kids they once were and I feel the familiar pull in my chest.
“Professionalism be damned, come tonight I won’t exist in this world let alone need to worry about a write up.” They’re surprised, I smile. “I have always had the tendency to mother some of my students and you lot are no exception. Fortunately for you, or not, are my children. And you will remain as such. Whether words separate us, whether memories survive. You are my children. “
I stand, straightening my papers. “So, yes. I do. I love you all and I know you’ve already known that. “
I hear a sniffle from the back and I set my jaw against the bitterness that rises in my thought. “So please, go and do what you must before midnight. There’s no need to say more; the things you want to say, I already know. You’ve already shown me by coming here today. Now go. Mother needs some time to herself.”
I watch them stand, watch them their backs as they file out the door, watch their lingering gaze on the classroom. I watch the last of them, the dark man, as he tips his head and smiles and he door shuts with a thump so loud in my ears that I reel and grope for the chair.
I watch them, empty seats, messy desks, neat rows.
“You’d think it would get easier to let them go.”
It doesn’t. And I don’t. They are my children. I can’t.
Fandom: The Velvet Key
Character(s): Ingrid, Neah, John, Issei, Sanaki, V/V, implied others
Pairing(s): Nada
Genre: Drama
Prompt: Ending
Rating: PG
Warning: Sappy
Summary: I love you all. Class dismissed.
“There will be an exam over this next Tuesday, I suggest” Riiiiiing. “That you study more than just cramming the night before. The exam will not be multiple choice and spelling will count. Yes, yes stop with those long suffered looks and go on. Enjoy your weekend.”
They rush out with fire at their heels, chattering about parties and football games and clothes and significant others. I’m sure I hear the word beer from the crowd. It should be my place to say something. I can’t muster the energy to care.
A few students stay in their seats, and within minutes more come by and join them. Their eyes are on me, expectant, hopeful, distressed, and scared. I stare evenly back.
“I do not recall giving anyone of you detention this evening. Not even you Mr. Walker. In fact you don’t even attend this school anymore and I’m sure you don’t have a visitor’s pass.” I expect a smartass reply and when I don’t receive one, I drop my gaze back to my paperwork. “Go home, you all must have things to attend to in light of recent events. Loose ends to tie up and all that.”
“That’s why we’re here.” He smiles from the corner, sheepish when I point at him to pull down his hood.
“We need some final wisdom, teacher.” He adjusts his glasses, so serious for his age. “What do we do now?”
“As you’ve always done. We may be leaving but that doesn’t change how you should act.”
“What if we don’t remember being here? Each other or what happened?” It’s not the first time I’ve seen an angel cry, but I know this will be the last.
“Then nothing I say would really matter. “ I sigh. “I have no advice to give on this. I can only say I am proud of you. For all you’ve done in this world. I know you’ll each do well, no matter the circumstance. If you remember this place, I know you’ll be exceptional and as much an inspiration to those around you than you have been to me.”
“Aren’t you going to tell us you love us?” The dark complexioned man in the corner says snidely.
“Excuse me?”
“This is the part we ask you to tell us your true feelings and you decide that’s too unprofessional and wait until we walk away to confess how much we mean to you.” The bite to his tone doesn’t quite match his eyes.
I laugh.
“You’ve watched one too many reruns. “
“You’re really not going to say anything?” Her voice is tiny, sounding more like the child she is than the leader she claimed to be.
I look at them, really look at them. They’ve changed in these years, as children ought to. They’ve grown, eyes wiser, bodies larger, and voices stronger. They’ve come together, stood united by circumstance and necessity, by friendship and common ground. They’re not the kids they once were and I feel the familiar pull in my chest.
“Professionalism be damned, come tonight I won’t exist in this world let alone need to worry about a write up.” They’re surprised, I smile. “I have always had the tendency to mother some of my students and you lot are no exception. Fortunately for you, or not, are my children. And you will remain as such. Whether words separate us, whether memories survive. You are my children. “
I stand, straightening my papers. “So, yes. I do. I love you all and I know you’ve already known that. “
I hear a sniffle from the back and I set my jaw against the bitterness that rises in my thought. “So please, go and do what you must before midnight. There’s no need to say more; the things you want to say, I already know. You’ve already shown me by coming here today. Now go. Mother needs some time to herself.”
I watch them stand, watch them their backs as they file out the door, watch their lingering gaze on the classroom. I watch the last of them, the dark man, as he tips his head and smiles and he door shuts with a thump so loud in my ears that I reel and grope for the chair.
I watch them, empty seats, messy desks, neat rows.
“You’d think it would get easier to let them go.”
It doesn’t. And I don’t. They are my children. I can’t.
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TEACHER
Y U DO THIS TO HIM
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