a/n: how do yall like these high school au ones?
also, this one is largely in the teacher's 1st person perspective
It always sucks when I have to tell students that they have a deskmate and they give me this look of disappointment, but it hurts more that I have to give Y/n that news.
"Don't spread it out too much, Y/n," I hand them a paper about a Michelangelo piece. "You've got someone next to you."
The look of betrayal I get from them when they hear this news is not unexpected.
"Yeah, yeah, I know you're disappointed," I chuckle. "You'll get used to it."
About 10 minutes after they've begrudgingly removed your things from the unoccupied half of the table, the door opens and in walks Jim Root, Y/n's deskmate. He steps up to me with a panicked string of apologies.
"Don't worry about it, just sit down, alright?" I reassure. "You're next to Y/n, there."
I stall and make sure that Jim has enough time to settle in before I continue the class.
"Hey," Jim whispers to the person next to him. I guess I can't prevent them all from talking.
"Hey, there," Y/n replies with an amiable smile. "How'd you fall ass backwards in here?"
"I threw my ass forward into it, actually," Jim corrects.
"Aha," they nod.
"Just thought I'd try a challenging class for once, y'know?"
"Makes sense."
"This seems like your scene, though. Aren't you into art?"
"That I am," they confirm, glancing down at the sketchbook laying open over a couple papers.
Jim tries to subtly watch them absentmindedly doodle in the book throughout the class. He occasionally pretends to pay attention to what I'm saying, but I know his mind is elsewhere. I can't blame him. He's had a lot going on recently.
The bell rings about 40 minutes later for the end of the day, and as Jim and Y/n are getting their stuff together to leave the room, they ask him, "Hey, did my friend Caroline ever ask you out? She used to be really into you."
Oh, yeah. I know Caroline. She's a sweet girl, if a touch ditzy, but also a huge punk fan.
"Oh, really? Yeah, we never went out or anything. We'd flirt a bit but nothing really happened," Jim shrugs.
Y/n nods in understanding.
"Think I've still got a chance?"
"Don't think so. She got someone's number at work the other day but I'll keep you posted on how that goes," Y/n smirks and begins moving toward the door, with their new acquaintance in tow.
"No need, I'm fine being single for now."
Ah, James. Wait until you realize how purposeful my seating is. Just wait.
...
Over the next week, I observe Y/n and Jim talk a bit and get more friendly with each other, an acquaintanceship growing into a friendship where they exchange greetings in the hallways and little waves throughout the day.
Art history is always enjoyable, though. I love playing matchmaker with students, even if it doesn't work out. Since most kids consider this to be an easy class to half ass, they tend to spend a good amount of time in my room not being productive. This creates a room where art kids can flourish, slackers to get their homework done in a rush, and people who actually care about art history to selectively listen to a bit of my lectures and then act like they know more than they do.
A few days ago, I saw Jim got gutsy enough to contribute to one of Y/n's doodles, which turned into them going back and forth on Y/n's sketchbook drawing little bits at a time. It ended with a cursed drawing of clowns that had a striking resemblance to Kiss members.
Now it's a thing they do.
I'm not complaining, they could be skipping school and selling crack. This is a good alternative, and I like to watch the drawing unfold as well.
This particular day, I'm seeing a crocodile that Jim started. I want to see what Y/n does with it, but I also need to drop this banger:
"Y'know, there's a lot of skill involved to use paints to create value. There's a real technique to get it in there right."
At the same time, Y/n and Jim look at each other with a smirk and mutter "That's what she said" before breaking down into muffled laughs and wheezes.
YES! The uniting power of a that's what she said joke is universal!
I admonish them a bit while my heart secretly leaps for joy when I see them walk out, still laughing at their moment.
...
It's now been almost 2 months since Y/n and Jim were first sat next to each other. From what I can pick up, they've both upgraded each other to "good friend" status, and if this were a romance novel, I'd say we're one deep conversation and a few genuine smiles away from one of them realizing they're madly in love with the other.
Don't doubt my intuition. I've played matchmaker for years in art history.
Y/n always comes in earlier than Jim (and most people, by some hallway navigation magic), so I greet them and let them get ready for class. We're making some small talk when Jim walks in, and he...does not look good.
"Hey, Jim," I give him a small smile before moving slowly away. Y/n can counsel him better than I can.
"Yeah, hi," Jim dismissively mutters as he collapses into his seat.
Throughout the class, I watch as Y/n gives him little concerned looks. He seems to be so in his head that he doesn't notice. His lack of focus leaks onto Y/n.
There's no collaborative doodle for the fourth class in a row.
At the end of the class, it takes Jim a while to get his stuff together, and Y/n isn't waiting for him when she's ready to go. She whispers a goodbye to him and flicks a folded piece of paper in front of him before leaving the room.
He looks up at me for a split second and then over at the door until he unfolds the paper while slinging his bag over his shoulder.
...
I don't know what Y/n put on that paper, but whatever it was, it helped Jim. He trots into the room earlier than Y/n for the first time and gives me a genuine greeting.
"How's today been for you?" I ask, leaning against the table in front of Jim's.
"It's been good. Nice breath of fresh air, I guess," the teenager replies.
"Art history does that to people," I joke, not expecting any good reception. To my surprise, Jim offers a little chuckle.
"It does," he agrees.
A couple other kids come in who say hi to me and start telling me about their days, so I'm forced to abandon Jim right as Y/n comes in.
Still, in my peripheral vision, I can see Jim's eyes light up when he greets them with a big smile.
During the class, I'm delighted to see the familiar shuffling of the sketchbook between the two students, accompanied by occasional chuckles and whispers.
I swear, if they don't have their first date soon, I'm paying for their dinner reservations, nice clothes, and the whole fucking shebang.
...
this one's too long so im cutting it off here, but part 2 is coming <3