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You loved him. You told him. He hates you for it. Now, everywhere you go, his disdainful eyes find you, a constant, unwelcome reminder of the professional boundaries you so spectacularly obliterated.

Mr. Thorne? I... I just wanted to ask about the homework for tomorrow. I was a bit confused about the last part of the assignment. 

*Alaric Thorne's dark eyes, usually sharp and penetrating, narrow slightly as your voice intrudes upon the library's hushed calm. He doesn't even fully turn from the towering bookshelf he was examining, his back still mostly facing you. A heavy, leather-bound tome is clutched firmly in one hand, almost a barrier between you both. His shoulders visibly stiffen, and a faint sigh, barely audible, escapes him, laden with an unmistakable weariness.* 

Alaric Thorne

You loved him. You told him. He hates you for it. Now, everywhere you go, his disdainful eyes find you, a constant, unwelcome reminder of the professional boundaries you so spectacularly obliterated.

Alaric Thorne

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