oh, that i had [closed]

He'd spent a good part of the evening before clicking through his computer, looking through old files. Funnily enough, it'd been the return of his newly cleaned dress shirt that had forced him to remember, out of all things, that he'd never gotten his payback for that uncomfortable formal evening he'd had to put up with. Jason liked to think he knew most of the names of all the students at that point, par for the whole teacher course, but he still hadn't managed to pin-point hers. Brown hair, blue eyes. What was her name again? Eva? Like the cute cartoon robot from that one movie?

Jace shook his head at himself. It wasn't until he was going through the roll books for the third time, flipping through the attendance records that he'd finally noticed the stray name hidden on one of the very back pages. He had no idea how he'd missed it so many times before.

White, Evelyn M.

She had missed every one of his classes, it seemed. It was honestly impressive to him. It took no longer than a few seconds to punch her name into the system and pull up her files. A triumphant smile over took him as he read through, leaning in closer to the screen. It seemed that the two of them had been classmates, at some point, but then that could be said for many in the school. A few missions early on. Her grades had been excellent her first year before they began to taper off.

It'd taken the 'Professor' in him two heartbeats to make a decision. There were procedures for the most troublesome of students around campus, those that didn't want to succeed academic-wise. (It had happened to a few he'd known during his own time in the Autumn dorms.) Meal tickets would be frozen, access to places like the library or the lounge, all but taken, left with no way to leave campus or way to reach town. At the absolute worst, a Guardian or a Prefect would be assigned to follow them, to ensure they'd be getting their quality education.

Now, hopefully, it wouldn't have come to that. He'd sent the official notice out to her email, the one warning, to meet up in his class at lunch the next day - after his class, if she bothered to even show up. If not... Well, shit. They'd just have to go through the motions. Not wanting to keep Elodie waiting, he'd closed up shop quickly, setting several reminders on his phone and forgetting about it for the most part.


By the time that next day had rolled around, he hadn't had much expectations, his phone buzzing alerts in his pocket; keeping him distracted as he leaned back into his desk chair and fiddled around with his lunch. But hey, here's to hoping, right? He wasn't willing to let this go. That shirt was expensive as fuck to get cleaned. You know how many dry cleaners there were in Rosebury? None. The serious troubles.

This had to be a joke.

But it wasn't. Evelyn toyed with her phone strap, circling her thumb over the middle button. Just delete it, she'd kept telling herself. An email, with a threatening teacher tone oh-so-very unlike him, the real him, and she really just should've deleted it. The other teachers, they'd never caught her playing hooky, but that was just part of her everyday routine. Slip in with the crowd, hang up a little snowflake pendant or chalk herself down as 'here,' and then walk back out. If she ever got a strange look, most people didn't care enough to alert the teacher, and for the rest, it probably didn't stick around in their mind long enough to follow through.

With him, she'd never even gotten close enough to the classroom door to do anything like that. So it only made sense that he'd caught on eventually, but maybe a part of her had been hoping it'd slip his mind day after day long enough for her to graduate, or drop out, or whatever, unnoticed.

After all, that sounded like him. He'd always been a goof like that...

She didn't delete it. Why not? Her stomach knotted up outside the door, flicking over the brass knob, her shaking hands. I guess I'm still a coward after all... Somehow she was still afraid of teachers, like she'd always been afraid of teachers. Thinking with her head, keeping cool, yeah, even with restrictions she probably could've given any prefect the slip or gone to any forbidden area all she wanted without any problems... But here she was.

That hint of a threat was enough to draw her into this trap. The gig was up. She just had to be more careful in the future now, show up and nod and apologize and manage some kind of excuse, and then, and then, just the same thing she did with every other teacher... Show up, leave, and stay unnoticed. Butterflies filled her stomach as she stepped in, peeking around the door, and there he was, oh god... Golden hair, dress shirt, but no punch stain.

It felt like a knife twisting in her gut, but she padded forward, one foot in front of the other, twiddling her fingers.

"Um..." If she didn't say anything, and damn, she didn't want to say anything, he might never notice she was there. Then this whole trip would've been pointless. "H-hi..."

Was that any way to speak to a teacher?

Was that any way to talk to him after so long?

Liquid courage. She could still taste the whiskey on her tongue. Smooth, but it had a kick to it. Her throat was still burning. Evelyn was running on empty these days.

He'd suspected that he had heard the classroom door click open, but it was a fleeting through. The blonde kept his gaze glued to the pile of papers before him, at least trying to make himself look busy. Nobody would notice his sports magazine, the newest subscription, unless they were up close; hidden in practiced stealth underneath the cover of some old art novel. He was making a reach for another note of his meal when he'd heard a mousy greeting not more than a few meters from where he lingered. Shit. Act casual. Or, not casual. Busy. Teachers were always supposed to be busy. He always commanded more respect whenever it looked like he was jotting down a few harsh grades. Instead of grabbing another bite of french fry, he swiped the pen in his hand, jotting jibberish down on the nearest bit of paper.

pick up milk, genius. and eggs too.

Jason put on a modest smirk, keeping his eyes glued to the paper, as if he couldn't be bothered if she were there. Intimidation. That also commanded attention, he was told. "Miss White," He called. "You're a tough one to find." One... Two... He counted the seconds off in his head (for dramatic effect, of course), at long last finally glancing in her direction and holding a hand out to the empty seat across his desk, urging her to sit. "You didn't bring any drinks or anything with you, did you?"

With a bit of exertion, he dropped his pen down, leaving behind the game of tic-tac-toe he'd played so expertly with himself.

Silence. Um... Had he even noticed? Evelyn felt her fingers twitch, thumbing at the hem of her shirt, but he just kept scribbling, and she kept staring, getting lost in the sound... The sound of his voice jarred her back to reality with a start, blinking, dazed, a stake through her heart even after all this time. She'd thought she'd been prepared to hear his voice again... And of course, it was almost like he was mocking her.

Teasing her. Even something as insulting as that might have made her beam if it'd been a hint he knew who she was. But that wasn't the case, was it?

She took in a sharp breath and plopped clumsily down into the seat, keeping her eyes glued into her lap.

When he spoke again, her shoulders almost jumped. How did he—...?!

Oh... Right. What happened at the Formal. Evelyn released the breath in a low sigh, shaking her head from side to side, embarrassment twisting her stomach into knots.

"N-no... um, s-s-sorry, I, uh..."

Yeah. Shit.

"Yeah, you should be sorry," Jason leaned back in his chair, avoiding her gaze instead kept his eyes glued to the computer screen beside them; glancing over his old roll chart, surrounded by useless statistics and gibberish. "You haven't come to a single class of mine. Do you dislike me that much?" His question was light, his chuckle mostly air, giving a small window to his uncertainty. He was thankful she bothered to show up. What else was he supposed to say to her? What would his dad say?

He had no idea. Art was the easiest shit ever. If you couldn't come once to a class like that, what ekse coukd change your mind? The young man frowned, darting his gaze aside. "Look, I hate to be the bad guy..." What was he even trying to say...? What he'd really meant was... "What have you been doing all this time?" Maybe?

Maybe he really wasn't built for this teacher stuff.

How was she supposed to answer that? He cut right to the chase, the simplest way he could've asked it, and she was still left floundering for the words. She'd been rehearsing this moment since she got the email, since she'd walked out the door and forced herself toward the studios where she knew where his class was. How could she sum up why in a way he could possibly wrap his head around at this point? Evelyn couldn't even look at him.

Could she be honest? Explain it all to him, from front to back, and... then what? A big, cheesy hug? All their memories together would come flooding back and things would go back to the way they were, like they'd never stopped? That was too convenient. She knew better than that.

Why did she even show up?

Evelyn bit at her lip and balled up her hands around the hem of her shirt.

"I..." She swallowed. "I... d-don't d-dislike you..." At least, she was pretty sure. "I-I just... Look, I..."

Just what?

What excuse? She just didn't like art? She'd been sick?

It hurt too much just to look at him. She couldn't force out something that shallow.

"D-don't you... remember me?"

The man's smiled wavered as he stared forward at her, or past her, to be more precise; his eyes unfocused, uncertain. Something gnawed away at him in the pit of his stomach and he found himself looking down, fiddling with pens and papers, trying to bide his way through the short silence, through her strange question.

"We used to be classmates, didn't we?" He mused with a laugh, empty and light. It was all in the papers. He knew her birthday, her year, and even her power. It would only make sense they'd have shared some cases together, or some time in an uncertain scale, and he might have well forgotten it. In that way, he supposed it'd be hard to garner any sort of respect for someone on the sitting end of that position.

Jason shifted around in his seat. "I don't but," He muttered, his brows furrowed as he ran a few fingers through his hair. "I should." A sharp pain stabbed at the back of his head, and with a slight wince, he bit his cheek and ignored it.

Having grown tired of sitting in his educational throne, he stood up from his desk, walking around to meet her. "I don't want to hold you back or anything. This shit is easy. It's art." He leaned in a bit close, muttering low, as if it were some tightly kept secret. "I'm sorry. Would you hang in there for me?" Jace reached a hand out to her.

Evelyn still winced.

It was all the same garbage she'd already known. Somehow, she couldn't help but feel disappointed. No, not like she'd secretly hoped he recognized her after all, but... There was just nothing else to it. His answer was so... what, standard? She sniffed. Evelyn didn't look up. He was still that same Jace she'd always known, that dorky way he spoke, the way he stood. He still couldn't be hard on her, even when she was a stranger, and even now that he was a teacher.

The floor seemed to shift underneath her. Her head was spinning. Her center of gravity was all off. Evelyn's fingers twitched. She sniffed. He was looking at her, but she couldn't look at him. God damn it, no matter how far she got, she always got dragged back to square one... She sniffed. She sniffed. Her cheeks were burning. She sniffed. There was a hot wet splash against the crook of her hand. Her fingers curled into her palm.

Pathetic, but she couldn't help it.

What was she supposed to say? She didn't give a shit about this class, it was never about the class, she only came here because... because... She didn't want to force all these crap excuses out through her teeth, playing these games, standing there right in front of him pretending she didn't know him.

She couldn't just stand here and pretend anymore. Pretending like he was a stranger. Pretending like they were nothing. God damn it! Fuck! Fuck! It wasn't fucking fair! None of this was fucking fair! I'm so sick of bullshitting! That was the one thought that rang clear in her ears, twisting her shoulders, planting her feet. Evelyn smacked his hand away with a backhand slap...

Thwack.

...and punched him across the chin with the reverse swing.

Maybe she had poor impulse control. A psychiatrist had said something like that once.

Evelyn froze, stock still, red knuckles and wet cheeks, paralyzed in the act. Reality snapped back like recoil from a twelve gauge, almost knocking her off her feet. The flash of defiant spirit was gone, leaving her with the consequences. "Agh...!" she half-gasped, half-choked, fumbling for words. "U-uh... I... I-I..."

She'd just hit her fucking teacher.

She swallowed.

No excuses, and no, she wasn't sorry. Not yet. Right now, all she felt was... Well, right now she didn't know how she felt. Just that at this point, she couldn't do anything but the first thing that came to mind. Her hands flashed out to grab him by the collar. "You c-c-can't just say that t-to me...!" Her voice strained, tripping over her tongue. She stared up at him, eyes wide. "Pl-please... You ca-can't do th-this to me again! How c-can you not... ho-how c-c-can you n-not rere... rememember?!"

Her face continued to crumble.

Jason stared down at the empty space between them, his arm beginning to tire as his hand lingered between them. It was difficult enough to keep that warm smile of his glowing in the midst of dead silence. That subtle feeling that gnawed away at his side had sudden grown overwhelming. The way her shoulders trembled with each passing breath, the familiar way she swayed and trembled; well, if he didn't feel like a top-shelf asshole. His golden eyes softened over the pitiful site. "Hey, don't..." She didn't need to cry. Like Hell, if it wasn't a gut-wrenching sight.

Not again...

What was he supposed to do now? The teacher shook his head, an alarming chill shooting throughout him as he felt the string of her hand slapping him away. One moment he was looking down at her and the next he was seeing stars. He'd saw the swing coming before she'd had it coming, but he'd been so stunned, so caught off guard that he might as well let it happen. He took a near tumbling step back, shooting his hands closer to the earth and learning forward, albeit defensively.

He did his best to blink away the pain, yanked forward closer to her and forced to look her in the eyes. "I'm... I...?" For once, all he could do was shake his head in bafflement, lost on what to say. "Evelyn..." He head nodded again. No. No... No, what? What was the matter with her? His hands brushed up against her, every movement slow and careful, reaching up to her shoulders.

Her name. She flinched as he reached up to touch her, hands balling up, blinking hot tears out of her eyes, shoulders shaking. At least he didn't get her name wrong this time, right...? Evelyn sniffed, and she wanted to run. Just turn on her heel, burst out the door, and run. Make it down the hall, maybe he'd chase her, maybe, just maybe, they could relive her freshman year again, and this time she wouldn't mess it up. No kicks.

She could almost grasp the fantasy.

Maybe she should kick him.

Maybe that'd make her feel better. Maybe, even just for a second, that'd let her get out some of her frustration.

How could he just forget? All that time together, that was everything to her. Wasn't it something to him? It wasn't fair, it wasn't—...!

...She almost punched him again.

Evelyn forced herself to look at him. She couldn't run again. She couldn't just lash out again. All she could do was beg. "Jace..." she choked. "J-j-just..." Ugly crying galore.

'Don't cry.'

It was so damned hard to focus on her then. Her small shivers, her trembling lips, it all seemed a blur to him. It was overwhelming, all-sickening and fuck if he knew what to make of it or how to describe the overwhelming... what? He didn't know. He didn't know. He didn't know. The burning pain had crept up from his jaw, burning away at his temps, gnawing away at his head. Jason scolded himself in silence, blinking a bit of blurriness out of his eyes and gazing away carefully, catching her own eyes; a deep, tinted blue, puffy and red from her own distraught. Remember? Remember what? He didn't know.

Static was screaming in his ears and crashing through any sincere train of thought. What the hell was he forgetting?

They could've met before. They must have met before, or else...

Or else...


His own hand shook as he brushed up her neck, careful, like either of them might crumble at any moment. Jace wanted to force a smile, but he hadn't a clue of what he looked like, if he managed the most pitiful smirk at all. What if someone saw them? What was he doing? His thumb reached up, swiping tender across her cheek and pushing away her tears. What was wrong with him?

Jason shook his head again. "I'm sorry," he murmured again. "Please, don't cry."

It was paralyzing. Even with her cut out of his memories, he was still the same Jace, that gentle touch, that little bit of tenderness she'd craved so much. He sounded so fucking lost. She knew, somewhere not that deep down, that she couldn't blame him for this. This was all her fault, her gift, her power, and she was the one who fucked it up. But she couldn't accept that so easily. It wasn't enough to blame the genetic lottery, the randomness of the universe, whatever. She needed to blame someone with a face that she could imagine punching. Someone other than her.

This was a mistake.

But she didn't want to pull away.

She didn't want to run away again and leave him and for him to forget even this one stupid stupid stupid stupid painful moment.

Why couldn't she just turn back the clock?

Evelyn swallowed, sniffling, and stepped back, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. It wasn't clean. It wasn't cute. Some girls, the type that had fawned over him when they were still together, could make crying look artful. Not here. Not her. She'd never gotten the hang of it. She turned her head away, the shame from the emotional outburst creeping back up on her, little by little.

I should go.

The words choked in her throat. She stumbled backwards, breaking away from him, tiny, uncertain steps. She didn't want to commit to running away, but she couldn't... but she... Evelyn started to turn, making for the door, silent, red-faced, cheeks still wet with tears.