HOME | DD

Description
She's entirely unremarkable. Mostly. She laughs with her friends, however diverse that group is at the time, rolls her eyes at all the authority figures, and seems to be far less than mediocre academically. A stereotypical teenager.
She has inconsistencies in her mannerisms, small things, insignificant things- her eyes will dart across the room to look at me, and I can't figure out why; she'll stutter sometimes for no reason, lose track of what she's saying, I doubt anyone else has noticed- teenagers these days are rampant with a nauseating self-absorption, but I most certainly have. I have to wonder what she's hiding.
She says she's not smart, and her work is barely passable, yes- but I see some strange rapt interest during lectures that makes it seem like she's not nearly as unintelligent as she lets on. Some tease her for it- say she'll wind up on the streets. She gets angry, and I wonder why she has to use her fists so much-
It shouldn't matter.
She doesn't matter- she infuriates me. I need only help her graduate, and she'll be gone from my life forever.
I hope.
~ES

"You need to stop getting into fights."

"I didn't start it," She said with a baleful glare, leaning away from him. "Just give me a tissue or something- I can handle myself. You're not responsible for me."

Erwin raised an eyebrow. “It’s not a matter of responsibility. I'm trying to help you."

She gave a short, curt laugh, leaning back against the wall and offering him a disdainful look. "What, d'you want a fucking medal or something? Sorry to break it to you, the world doesn't work that way."

"You're bleeding."

She gave herself a once-over- there was one circular scrape from the harsh asphalt, the wound seeping crimson. The rest were just bruises. "Give me a tissue or something."

He looked at her for a moment longer before rising and crossing the room to get the tweezers and rubbing alcohol. "You're not going to get the grit out with a tissue," He answered with a wry look.

Clearly he'd said something wrong, because she slid off the counter, landing neatly, and darted past him to the tissues. "So what? It'll get out on it's own. That's how skin works, it's not exactly going to heal right over pieces of fucking stone," She sneered.

"It's going to take a while," He said with a shrug, closing the cupboard he'd been rifling through and returning to his desk.

"I don't care."

She pulled herself onto the counter, propping up her knee and pressing the crumpled-up tissue in her hand to the scrape carelessly.

"Are you sure you don't-"

"Shut up."

He shrugged and went back to his desk- the pile of papers he had to grade certainly wasn't getting smaller. (Erwin told himself again and again that he absolutely did not care what she did, but why did he keep glancing at her? She said it already, she didn't need his help.)

He caught himself looking at her again.

Dammit.

"Just let me-" he started again, gently.

Her eyes narrowed balefully and she clenched her teeth. "Do you actually understand what "No" means? For fuck's sake! I--don't--want--your--help!" She ground out, clenching her fists and pushing herself off the counter again.

"[Name], could you please-" He began, as she grabbed her things and started for the door.

The door slammed shut, and Erwin dropped his head into his hands with a sigh.

~~~~

It had barely been a week, he thought as he dabbed gently at a shallow cut on her upper arm.
She squirmed uncomfortably, wincing at the touch of the rubbing alcohol against the wound.

“Stop moving, [name],” he ordered gently, earning a rude noise of complaint from the girl.

“You could just stop getting into fights, you know," He said dryly after a few minutes of stiff silence.

She leaned back comfortably against the wall from her position on the sleek countertops, as Erwin moved off to grab a bandage and antibiotics.

“Rather not,” She said airily, feet kicking back and forth from where her legs dangled over the counter’s edge.

He said nothing, rummaging through a small box of medical supplies and setting a few items out on the counter.

“So what are you expecting from this?” Her voice was a languid drawl, as she casually rolled her neck, refocusing her eyes on him.

“Nothing, actually,” he answered, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he returned, a bandage in his hand.

"Now that's bullshit," She declared, eyeing him with some amount of disdain. "You're a terrible liar."

“Hold out your arm, please.”

Much to his surprise, she cooperated, holding her arm steady as he wrapped the gauze around the wound.

“There, that should do it,” he said quietly.

She leaned back on her palms, studying him with the eye that wasn't swollen shut.

"So, now are you gonna tell me what you're playing at?" She asked coolly. (He was almost surprised at the sheer amount of distrust in her eyes. Strange.)

"I'd like you to graduate," He answered, after a slow silence.

"Please." She scoffed, trying to push off the counter, but losing her balance.

Erwin caught her, his hand closing over her arm, turning her to face him. (He could not stop berating himself for this, as a science teacher he should have known that she'd still have momentum, that she'd crash into him) Her lips slammed against his, almost bruising, (the epitome of "accidental", nearly painful). He tasted blood- and couldn't tell if it was his or hers, but did it matter? Erwin didn't move. Neither did she, for a few seconds, simply because of the enormity, the impossibility of the situation.

By the time he came to his senses, she was already gone.

Description
She's entirely unremarkable. Mostly. She laughs with her friends, however diverse that group is at the time, rolls her eyes at all the authority figures, and seems to be far less than mediocre academically. A stereotypical teenager.
She has inconsistencies in her mannerisms, small things, insignificant things- her eyes will dart across the room to look at me, and I can't figure out why; she'll stutter sometimes for no reason, lose track of what she's saying, I doubt anyone else has noticed- teenagers these days are rampant with a nauseating self-absorption, but I most certainly have. I have to wonder what she's hiding.
She says she's not smart, and her work is barely passable, yes- but I see some strange rapt interest during lectures that makes it seem like she's not nearly as unintelligent as she lets on. Some tease her for it- say she'll wind up on the streets. She gets angry, and I wonder why she has to use her fists so much-
It shouldn't matter.
She doesn't matter- she infuriates me. I need only help her graduate, and she'll be gone from my life forever.
I hope.
~ES

"You need to stop getting into fights."

"I didn't start it," She said with a baleful glare, leaning away from him. "Just give me a tissue or something- I can handle myself. You're not responsible for me."

Erwin raised an eyebrow. “It’s not a matter of responsibility. I'm trying to help you."

She gave a short, curt laugh, leaning back against the wall and offering him a disdainful look. "What, d'you want a fucking medal or something? Sorry to break it to you, the world doesn't work that way."

"You're bleeding."

She gave herself a once-over- there was one circular scrape from the harsh asphalt, the wound seeping crimson. The rest were just bruises. "Give me a tissue or something."

He looked at her for a moment longer before rising and crossing the room to get the tweezers and rubbing alcohol. "You're not going to get the grit out with a tissue," He answered with a wry look.

Clearly he'd said something wrong, because she slid off the counter, landing neatly, and darted past him to the tissues. "So what? It'll get out on it's own. That's how skin works, it's not exactly going to heal right over pieces of fucking stone," She sneered.

"It's going to take a while," He said with a shrug, closing the cupboard he'd been rifling through and returning to his desk.

"I don't care."

She pulled herself onto the counter, propping up her knee and pressing the crumpled-up tissue in her hand to the scrape carelessly.

"Are you sure you don't-"

"Shut up."

He shrugged and went back to his desk- the pile of papers he had to grade certainly wasn't getting smaller. (Erwin told himself again and again that he absolutely did not care what she did, but why did he keep glancing at her? She said it already, she didn't need his help.)

He caught himself looking at her again.

Dammit.

"Just let me-" he started again, gently.

Her eyes narrowed balefully and she clenched her teeth. "Do you actually understand what "No" means? For fuck's sake! I--don't--want--your--help!" She ground out, clenching her fists and pushing herself off the counter again.

"[Name], could you please-" He began, as she grabbed her things and started for the door.

The door slammed shut, and Erwin dropped his head into his hands with a sigh.

~~~~

It had barely been a week, he thought as he dabbed gently at a shallow cut on her upper arm.
She squirmed uncomfortably, wincing at the touch of the rubbing alcohol against the wound.

“Stop moving, [name],” he ordered gently, earning a rude noise of complaint from the girl.

“You could just stop getting into fights, you know," He said dryly after a few minutes of stiff silence.

She leaned back comfortably against the wall from her position on the sleek countertops, as Erwin moved off to grab a bandage and antibiotics.

“Rather not,” She said airily, feet kicking back and forth from where her legs dangled over the counter’s edge.

He said nothing, rummaging through a small box of medical supplies and setting a few items out on the counter.

“So what are you expecting from this?” Her voice was a languid drawl, as she casually rolled her neck, refocusing her eyes on him.

“Nothing, actually,” he answered, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he returned, a bandage in his hand.

"Now that's bullshit," She declared, eyeing him with some amount of disdain. "You're a terrible liar."

“Hold out your arm, please.”

Much to his surprise, she cooperated, holding her arm steady as he wrapped the gauze around the wound.

“There, that should do it,” he said quietly.

She leaned back on her palms, studying him with the eye that wasn't swollen shut.

"So, now are you gonna tell me what you're playing at?" She asked coolly. (He was almost surprised at the sheer amount of distrust in her eyes. Strange.)

"I'd like you to graduate," He answered, after a slow silence.

"Please." She scoffed, trying to push off the counter, but losing her balance.

Erwin caught her, his hand closing over her arm, turning her to face him. (He could not stop berating himself for this, as a science teacher he should have known that she'd still have momentum, that she'd crash into him) Her lips slammed against his, almost bruising, (the epitome of "accidental", nearly painful). He tasted blood- and couldn't tell if it was his or hers, but did it matter? Erwin didn't move. Neither did she, for a few seconds, simply because of the enormity, the impossibility of the situation.

By the time he came to his senses, she was already gone.