❥𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 • 𝐌𝐉 || ➽─❥ 𝑀𝑂𝐷𝐸𝑅𝑁 𝐴𝑈 • /𝑶𝒏𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈/•

➽─Part Thirty One─❥

Michael had escorted you to the full-time, on-campus medical clinic, just to get your barely sprained wrist assessed. Honestly, it didn't even hurt that much, and you were sure that attention from a nurse wasn't necessarily required. But of course, if Michael insisted it to be a certain way, it would take a tiresome argument to stand your opposing ground, something that you weren't in the mood for anymore - especially after what had just gone down with Mason.

There were no words to describe how horrible you felt about striking him, and though you desperately wanted to find him so that you could offer your apology - the best thing was to do otherwise, for the time being.

You took in a sharp breath as you sat there at the edge of the examination bed, your condition not requiring you to lay down or anything of the sort. The nurse had just proceeded to take your wrist gently so that she could determine whether or not a doctor was to be summoned.

Michael was standing at the doorway, leaning against the door frame with his arms folded, his eyes fixated solely on you.

"Now," the female nurse smiled, gently holding your wrist. "What happened?" she nodded to the injury.

You gulped as the memory came back to you, hitting you with clarity like a ton of bricks. "I um....I...I struck my friend," you admitted, diverting your gaze. "I slapped him,"

"Hard," Michael added after a moment, an...amused expression peeking from behind his stoic facade.

Did he think it was funny? Because I don't.

The nurse turned back to Michael with a raised eyebrow, clearly a little surprised that a teacher seemed to have been amused by something any student should have been reprimanded for.

"It was terrible," Michael cleared his throat when he saw the nurse staring at him. "Just terrible," he instantly pretended as though he was impartial once more.

Saying and thinking nothing more, the nurse redirected her attention to you, giving you a soft smile. "Well that must have been one hard hit," she remarked gently. "Because even though this is a very mild sprain, it's not too commonly caused by a slap across the face," she chuckled.

"Ah well...I....I don't really....have experience with suddenly hitting someone," you could only manage an awkward laugh.

"Which is a good thing. It is better to stay well away from easily becoming violent," she continued to feel the area of your affected wrist. "Well there doesn't seem to be too much swelling, but I'd like you to tell me what it feels like right now," she studied your wrist intently.

"Um...a little warm, but not too much," you winced.

"I see," she nodded. "Then you can rest easy knowing that there isn't too much damage," she gently released your wrist. "It's a very light stretch of the ligament, but it should be fine after about a week. Some over-the-counter pain killers, and some rest from using that particular hand should do you a lot of good," she moved away from you to grab her clipboard.

"What?" your face fell slightly. "But...it's....the...hand I use for writing," you began to panic.

"Then I'm afraid you're going to have to find someone to help write for you. That, or you take a break from studies until you can use that hand again," she replied. "I'll just go and get you a medical certificate, in case," she stated before turning to leave the room.

"Oh yep, this is my karma," you whined quietly, tears already pricking your eyes as you felt your hopes crumble.

"Hey, it's not that bad," Michael raised his eyebrows. "At least it's a mild sprain, and not something grievous,"

"Yeah but now I have a new official physics professor that I need to impress, and a new set of assignments that I need to complete by next week!" you bit your lip. "And you know he wants everything handwritten,"

"I still don't see your point," he shrugged.

"Of course you don't," you flashed him a cynical smile. "Because the only point you ever see is yours,"

"No, I don't see your point for this particular reason," he let out a short, sharp breath of air. "You are an exceptional student, and your capabilities know no bounds. I mean look at you, you finished that initiation task of completing Hansen's binder in one night, and you scored an immaculate grade," he shook his head with a small smile - something you had never seen before. "I wish you had shown that much dedication in my class. You'll figure it out,"

"That's very kind of you, but that's not going to help me this time," you grew more frantic with each second that passed. "This time I am unable to write, and I can't think of a way out! I can't ask Professor Hansen for a leave of absence because I've only just started his class! He'll definitely have me discarded from his register if I do that,"

"Someone will help you write whatever you need written,"

"I don't have anyone that can do that for me, Michael," you said his name as though it had come naturally. "I can't ask Mason, that's for sure, and-"

"No, no, you're not hearing me," he walked up to you, observing you closely - stopping only when he was staring down at you. "I'll help you with whatever needs to be written. Trust I'll have it done before you know it," he hinted at his supernatural abilities.

Your eyes widened, lighting up with relief as you looked up at him, opening your mouth in somewhat of an innocent, doe-eyed look. "Really?" you smiled.

But he had swiftly found himself carried away by the way you stared up at him in that moment, his eyes darkening the longer he stared at you. His jaw was tense, as it usually was when he was close to you, but he had managed to bring his index finger to your chin, trailing along the underside of your jaw as though you were a fine piece of art for him to admire.

Then, he leaned down a little, carefully pushing your chin up in one movement - earning an involuntary gasp from you. He brought his face closer to yours, and for the first time you could see that he held great desire for you - even if he was able to pretend as though he didn't.

"Tell me to stop, because it's wrong," he was slowly inching closer to you.

But you said nothing - because there was a part of you that didn't want him to stop.

"(Y/N), please, just...." he trailed off in a whisper, clearly torn between letting his attraction toward you take over him and pulling away.

In one quick movement, you used your other hand to pull him in by the collar of his coat, bring him to finally kiss you.

And instantly, he did. He kissed you with more intensity than you could have possibly imagined for that moment. He fell to his knees, coincidentally positioned with your legs on either side, but not in too much of an inappropriate fashion.

He placed his hands on your thighs, trailing them along as if he wished to feel along every bit of your form.

Suddenly, in a stark, shocking instance of realization, you both pulled away upon hearing someone gasp.

The nurse had walked back in, and she had seen everything.

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