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kiruamon · 1 year ago

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Teacher-AU Part 14!

After a long pause the story continues! I've organized all of my notes and ideas a bit, adjusted my timeline for certain events, and my hands are feeling a bit better, so I hope that I will be able to work on the AU a bit more regularly again.:)

Once again we find Damien and Teach during detention playing their usual game of asking each other questions.

"Why exactly did you become a teacher?" "As a pastime", this question was an easy one to answer. Although Oz received a rather disbelieving glance from Damien at first. Possibly he thought he was crazy now~. "You make it sound like it's a hobby." Was it? Dames had a point, if he reflected on it carefully. "You're not that far off from truth," the personification of fear admitted with a slight smirk and sounding somewhat amused. The job simply gave him a proper daily routine and something meaningful to do. Something he had been missing for a long time. "Where do you always get all the gasoline you bring to school?" "Gas station heists," Damien admitted with a slight shrug of his shoulders as if it wasn't worth mentioning. "But the bigger chunk comes from the cars they park in front of the school. Saves time." So that's why the tow truck service came by here so often. A small devilish grin crossed his student's lips before the fire-loving troublemaker pondered over his next question for a moment.

"Your little buddies there… ", Damien nodded his head in the direction of the phobias that were currently watching him from Teach's shoulder. "Can I… " He paused in his question.

Can I touch it? Hadn't he asked this question someone before? But who? And when? And what exac- ...N-nevermind! Maybe, he didn't really wanted to know the answer to that!

"Damien?", Teach's concerned voice snapped him out of his revery. He blinked. What? "Damien? What did you wanted to say?" Oh, shit, right, he was in the middle of a conversation after all! Hastily, Damien shook off the irritating feeling that this strange memory - if it even was one - had triggered in him. "I wanted to know if I could touch one of these pipsqueaks."

To be honest, he had been curious for some time to find out what the tiny fellas felt like. Besides, Teach still owed him one! For being all touchy out of the blue with him in the utility room that one day! Not that Damien would ever say that out loud. Sure, he couldn't be certain if his teacher would play along. But… it seemed to be worth a shot. But before Teach even got a chance to reply, the little guys on his body were already squealing all excitedly, despite the fact that they had been listening to the conversation silently until just now. Even though he couldn't hear it, Damien believed he recognized that Teach was talking to the small pipsqueaks. At least his teacher was gesticulating more than usual. And Teach, depending on which of the little creatures was squeaking or chirping at the moment, turned his face to precisely that little fellow. "It seems my voice doesn't count here," was the first sentence Damien could hear from Teach again as he turned to him with a slightly wry smile. His teacher didn't really sound annoyed, more a bit amused. "They say they don't mind." Teach glanced again at the two little phobias on his shoulder. Damien would have loved to know what Teach was telling them, but all he caught was the two little guys nodding at his history teacher and having a match of rock, paper, scissors with each other.

Oz had watched the little contest in silence, which was already decided after the first round. "Somnophobia it is. Well then," without delay he rose and stepped over to Damien at the table, who was obviously already quite eagerly waiting for them. Not that Oz could blame him. Somehow he had guessed that Damien would ask him this question at some point. Probably because he had done it in the past as well. Even if the circumstances had been a little bit different back then. Gently, the entity touched his left shoulder with his right hand from where Somnophobia slid smoothly onto the back of his hand while he threw Athazagoraphobia a soft glance of encouragement to not be too sad about losing.

Fascinated, Damien followed the scene, quietly watching as Teach's hand, along with the phobia resting on it, lowered itself until it was resting flat on the tabletop in front of him. Was it okay to make his move? The impatient prince was already tempted to reach out his hand when he noticed the small thing moving, wandering to Teach's fingertips and leaning forward with its whole body. A jolt went through the black body of the tiny guy and suddenly it tumbled, separated from Teach, onto the table in front of him. Without thinking Damien stretched out his hands to stop it from falling off the edge of the table. Surprised, he stared open-mouthed at the little pipsqueak in front of him. "No way! You can split them off?" "Mmm. It's a possible," his teacher confirmed to him as if that wasn't odd at all! And it was so cool! Amazed, he watched the phobia - which Teach had called Somnophobia or something - shakily standing back up and looking at him gratefully before it let out a happy squeak. He couldn't help himself from starting to grin. Even Damien didn't needed a translator to know what that meant. "Heh. Yeah, yeah, you're welcome. Just be more careful, little runt," he replied to the phobia, chuckling, before poking it as gently as he could with his index finger. The body of the tiny fella felt a little chilly. Almost like Teach's hand. But also somehow softer and more elastic. A bit like one of those anti-stress balls. Super weird. His tail twitched slightly behind his back as he tried as best he could to suppress the strange feeling of déjà vu that had overtaken him earlier. Curious, the demonic pyromaniac let his finger wander over the little creature, which began to snicker in response. "They're ticklish?" asked Damien in an almost enthusiastic manner as his grin widened and he playfully poked the small fellow a little more here and there. "Some of them are," Teach answered him in a cheerful way. Ticklish fears. How silly. But Damien liked it. Smirking, he rubbed his index finger over the phobia's head, which seemed to be enjoying all the attention quite a lot, if he interpreted the closed eyes and the cutesy-dumb smile on its face correctly. "Feels pretty fun. Sort of like play-doh or something." Actually, Teach's little friends were kinda cute. "You wouldn't by any chance let me keep one as a pet?" The question wasn't meant seriously, of course. Smirking, Damien looked up at his teacher, who was staring at him all frozen. Huh? What was that expression on Teach's face? Whatever it was, it disappeared as fast as it had come, because his teacher put a hand under his chin, brooding, and clearly thought seriously about his question before answering him.

"I think I wouldn't recommend that. Unless you don't mind developing a fear of sleeping." The fear of sleeping, he pondered… Better not, he already had more than enough problems with his night's sleep lately because of all those stupid, heartwrenching dreams. He could definitely live without any further worries in that matter. "I guess I pass." Huh? Damien felt a sudden grip on his finger, and when he looked down at his hand, he knew why. The little phobia had wrapped its thin arms around his finger as it gave him and Teach pouty looks and demonstratively just snuggled closer to his finger. It was simply hilarious and incredibly sweet in equal parts. "No need to pout. We can still hang out together," that at least seemed to cheer up his new little friend. Damien raised his hand a few inches, causing the little phobia to dangle just above the surface of the table before sliding his free hand underneath it and letting it drop down onto it. "Wow. Do you weigh anything at all?" for all he knew, the weight on his hand felt barely heavier than a tiny pebble - if even that. "Not an awful lot. But it's enough for the laws of gravity to affect them," Teach explained to him in his chipper tone, which he also often used in class when he was teaching them something new. This probably translated into something like them being quite the flyweights.

His eyes wandered from the tiny being in his hand back to Teach, who had made himself comfortable on a chair directly in front of him. Only the table separated them. Despite the closeness, Damien didn't feel the least bit nervous or uncomfortable. Somehow it had almost become a habit that they sat together in this classroom and chatted about all kinds of nonsense. The time during his detention was flying by when he was with Teach. Often he didn't even realized that the lesson was over until his teacher called his attention to the ringing of the school bell. Soon, the first school year would be over and this year's Prom was just around the corner, but before that… Damien twisted his face slightly in annoyance. The shitty school administration was a pain in his neck because of his flunked exams. If he couldn't get the re-exams in his more problematic classes on track, they would contact his dads. Maybe he would have to repeat the year. No way in hell he would either of these outcomes become true. He just needed to make it work. Somehow… urgh. "Damien?" an concerned voice sounded in his head, snapping him out of his gloomy thoughts. "Eh?" the hotheaded student blinked, looking over at Teach, and his irritation immediately faded a little.

"Is everything all right?" Dames let out a slight puff, he seemed a little tense. Maybe even annoyed. It was hard to tell what was going on. But still Damien held Somnophobia carefully in his hand while gently running his thumb over it, lost in thought. The amber eyes locked onto him. All Oz could do was wait to see if Damien would entrust himself to him on his own. It rarely did any good to pressure the hotheaded demon in these moments. His former partner pondered for a moment before opening his mouth. "Teach, I wanted to ask … " "Yes?"

Fuck no! No, no and no again! He couldn't ask that. It would be totally embarrassing asking Teach to tutor him! Even though the kindhearted dork always offered his students to ask him for help with their homework and studies during detention, it was simply out of the question! It was rare enough for him to have the opportunity to chat with Teach! Alone. Without some stupid idiots or prying eyes. To waste this time with studying would be… would be… Damien winced mentally as he realized what he had just been thinking. It sounded like he liked spending time with Teach! That was silly. He was just doing it to save himself some trouble. Because it was much more exhausting to constantly have to go to the principal's office or… … well… maybe he enjoyed the time here a little bit… Maybe he even enjoyed finding out more about his stupid history teacher. Having him… all to himself… Aaaargh! This was just downright embarrassing! He didn't wanted to think why he was having these mushy feelings! That didn't meant anything! Nothing at all! Anyway, what he really needed was an idea, because he was definitely not going to ask Teach for help!

"I… was wondering where exactly all the food ends up that your phobias are shoveling in… since… you guys are usually connected and all… " he hastily changed his question, trying to hide how flustered he still felt. Phew, that should do it for now. And at least he talked his way out rather skillfully! Teach would certainly not suspect a thing!

Something seemed to be bothering Dames quite a bit. At least the expression on Damien's face changed second by second. First the young demon looked hesitant, then clearly panicked, followed by a look of embarrassment, before finally regaining his composure again. Whatever was going on, Damien didn't look like he wanted to talk about it and distracted from what he had originally wanted to ask him. But that was okay. So he wanted to know where… the food ended? An unusual question. Which Oz couldn't blame Damien for asking. "It doesn't end up anywhere." "Huh?" The fiery arsonist looked at him in confusion, and Oz quickly went out for a more detailed explanation. "My body works a little differently than the bodies of most living things. You know. The whole personified fear thing and such?" Damien nodded, letting him know that he hadn't forgotten. "Good. So… basically what my phobias or I eat just dissolves. There's no metabolism that converts the food into energy like it is for you or a lot of other monsters. So it ends up in my mouth and then dissolves there at my will," Oz explained patiently. "But… then why do you even bother to eat in the first place?" Yeah, that question was probably valid, too. Oz could see how much Damien racked his brain over this, and couldn't help himself from smiling a little.

This whole dissolving thing sounded really badass, but…. If he didn't need food, why bother? Just for the heck of it? For fun? He looked at his teacher with genuine interest, eagerly awaiting the coming answer. "Well… part of me was just curious to know what it felt like to make this experience. Especially since food is such a big part of many creatures' lives," Damien didn't miss the way his history teacher's gaze lingered on several of his phobias, which happily traveled up and down his teacher's arm before the white eyes settled themselves on him again. "At first, we didn't know exactly what to make of it. It was a strange experience. Completely new and without any particular expectations of it. It took time getting used to it." Damien tried to imagine what it would be like if he didn't needed any food. To go without for years and then, for the very first time, shove a hamburger or maybe just a piece of candy into his mouth. Maybe it would feel like a foreign object. Something that didn't belong there? It was weirdly exciting to take this perspective, which was why he listened fascinated to what Teach told him. "Personally, I liked it when the food had a distinct texture or shape, because back then I hadn't any real ideas about what actually tasted good or not. I… didn't tried to develop taste buds for my tongue until much later so to be able to distinguish the different tastes the way other beings do. That helped me gain a better understanding of what even passed for food to most people and what didn't." Teach looked almost a little sheepish when he told him this. Damien, on the other hand, found it plain amazing. It was fun to learn about these things. He would have loved to see Teach's face when he ate something spicy or sour for the first time with his newly developed taste buds. Or something that tasted really good to him. In addition, he learned an interesting new fact. Teach had a tongue. Hell. He would really like to get a glimpse of it. Due to the weird glow in Teach's mouth, he hadn't seen anything in it at the night of the fireworks! "However… I guess I have to confess that my phobias have different views on this matter than I do and are… less picky about what they consume." Damien grinned a little at this statement, especially since Teach was giving the small ones such reproachful glances that it only made him more curious. His tail swayed back and forth behind his back in amusement. "Sounds almost like a fun story. Come on, tell me. What have your little rascals done?" With a grin on his face, he challenged Teach to tell him more about himself and his strange little companions. At least until the sound of the bell would ring again.

Also, here's the scene from the past from which Damien's déjà vu came and that he failed to remember fully:

"Can I touch it?" "O-oh… w-well, if you… if you really want to, I guess… it's fine." "Really? Awesome!" "Hold out y-your hands, okay?" Damien slid a little closer on the bleachers to his shy classmate. With a gleam in his eyes, like a small child, he complied the request and held out both of his hands like formed into a bowl towards the other. Shortly after, his classmate dropped one of the funny looking creatures into his hands. So they were detachable? Totally metal! "Pfffh, that feels super weird!" Like he was holding a pile of living clay in his hands. "Hey. Let me keep one of these as a pet!" Damien almost had to laugh as he looked into the stunned face of the monster next to him. "I'm sorry, but that's not possible." "Not possible?" Well, he had almost figured that much. "And… ", Damien already started his sentence, while a mischievous grin formed on his lips. "If I took you as my pe- Ouch!" He laughed as the weak punch hit him in the side. "Kekekeke. I was just kidding. Relax." He just couldn't help teasing him. However, his companion, who was sitting next to him with his arms crossed, probably saw things a little different and avoided looking at him directly. "Are you pouting?" "No," was all he got as an answer. Pfffh. Sure. He was absolutely pouting. "Noooo? Are you sure? Cause it looks definitely li-hey!" He suffered another smack on the shoulder. "Fine! I'll stop, okay?" Hehe, it was really too easy to tease him. However, the slightly annoyed snort didn't escaped his ears. "You're not really mad at me, are you?" Or was he? "Come on. I'll treat you as an apology." Satisfied, Damien watched as his friend found it harder to continue playing the offended sorehead. "You get to pick the place, too." "… fine." There we go! Satisfied, Damien's tail swayed back and forth before gently wrapping itself around the other's slender wrist. "By the way! I haven't told you about how Principal Giant Spider put me in detention again because… "

A little heads up here, the last section of this part deals with the loss and grief that the death of Oz's friends caused him back then and how much those events still affect him til today.

There are good days and bad days. But the anniversary of his friends' deaths is always a bad day for Oz. As this special anniversary approaches once again, Oz is struggling with very conflicting emotions. Technically, he should be feeling better. More at ease. But the trauma he has suffered from that day, even with the knowledge that his friends are safe, alive and well, is not easily erased. Oz tries hard to keep it together during class, the only difference his students notice is that Teach seems more absentminded and clumsy than usual. It is mostly minor things. That he has them open the wrong page in the book before he realizes his mistake. That he accidentally bumps into the edge of the teacher's desk or misplaces the chalk. Nothing too dramatic, quickly forgotten, and something you could easily brush off. But in reality, Oz just barely manages to stay in his role. And with every passing hour he wishes more and more to just hide in his little room, because he's not okay, no matter how much he tries to fool everyone into believing he is. This year it is Coach who takes him to the side to talk to him.

Even though he was a lot older and had worked for much longer at the school, Coach always treated him like a younger colleague, even after all these years. And admittedly… often enough Oz felt less mature than his old gym teacher. Next to the old tiger, he felt like a little kid who was lost. Lost in a far away and foreign city. It was so pathetic… Shouldn't he be able to stand on his own feet by now? His shoulders drooped further, his gaze fixed silently on his feet as he sat next to Teach on one of the gym benches. His former PE teacher had seen him stumbling down the hallway, lost in gloomy thoughts, and had waved him over. And now here they were, sitting side by side in the gym while his thoughts whirled around and around, sucking him dry like a blood starving vampire would do to its next meal. "Not having a good day, eh kiddo?" Oz only slightly shook his head. It really wasn't a good day for him. The broad-shouldered veteran who had taken a seat next to him looked at him and waited. Giving him time. Oz didn't know how long he remained silent until the thing that was stuck inside him like thorns slowly loosened, releasing the words that had previously become entangled in them. "There was a time when I found it relaxing to sleep," Oz began quietly, picking up one of the loose threads that seemed to be scattered all around his feet, representing the chaos of his jumbled thoughts. "To lie down and rest, even if I didn't really needed to. But I liked it to give my head a break for a few hours. And… ", his voice faltered a bit and it took him a few seconds before he found it again. "… and even more I loved to find myself in his arms. Just being by his side and knowing that the next time I opened my eyes, he would be the first thing I see." It had been so wonderful. He had felt so safe. Secure and loved. But… "But now… now the mere idea of sleeping scares me to death… " he breathed quietly, wrapping his arms tighter around himself. "I am afraid of going to bed. To close my eyes even for more than a minute, because I… because I fear the images that will force themselves into my head… " Images of crumbling cities. Endless emptiness. "I'm scared I could wake up and find that those visions have become my reality again. That I am still there. Surrounded by nothing but death. … all alone… what… what if I never truly escaped from this? And never will? I would be… all alone again and no one… no one would be… ", his voice cracked. God, he had always thought he knew what loneliness was. Until that day. And then he had learned what true loneliness was. How scary and frightening it felt. How much it made you doubt your own sanity, as soon as you gave yourself the smallest opening. How much it ate you up from inside and left only the ugly parts. Unable to keep going, Oz gripped his head with shaking hands. His skull pounded, he felt sick to his non-existing stomach and he had to do everything in his power to lock away the memories so that he wouldn't collapse here and now. He really wished he could have screamed or cried. But he simply lacked the strength to do either of those things. Instead, he felt his colleague's big paw pressing against his back lightly stroking it and he was so thankful for this small gesture. Because it let him know that he wasn't alone. That he was here and not there. It was enough to earth him. To find his voice again. "It's been so long. Exactly to the day… but I just can't… not yet… " He didn't felt like he was moving forward. To be able to see a future for himself. Sometimes he thought he was making progress, but was that really true? Or was he just going in circles? Even if he was running, what if the ground under his feet, like a treadmill, was moving in exactly the opposite direction, and he was actually running on the same spot all the time?

Oz felt how the phobias began stirring inside him. How they got into a turmoil because of his feelings. With great difficulty he managed to calm them down to keep them from bursting out. Neither he nor they wanted to cause Coach any more trouble than they already did. But he was so exhausted. So tired. His body shuddered. He would have preferred to go to his room, turn every light off, and stare into the emptiness as he banished all his thoughts far, far away. Instead, in his mind, he saw a line of gravestones changing through the centuries. He had visited them over and over again. Blue flowers - forget-me-nots - placed in front of them. Every single year he would go there. No matter how far his feet had taken him before. Even if he were on the other side of the world… His visits had always been brief, since he just couldn't bear to stay there for long without feeling his heart breaking once again. And yet this place had pulled him back again and again. Like a ritual that had bound him like a curse, until he had found himself trapped in this new place. Stuck in his self-imposed prison and unable to return to there. Oz remembered how he had found the flowers here on the grounds as well. Way before the first monsters had shown up here to rebuild the foundation walls of his old school. And he remembered how he had planted some of the wild plants near his small wooden cabin. The cabin had crumbled over time, but the little field of flowers was still there. And still he took care of it. But this year he didn't really knew why. Why was he still grieving? Shouldn't it stop? Shouldn't he be feeling better by now? They were alive again. So why didn't his pain finally stopped? Why did he feel so alone? Like he was left behind again? Why did it still feel like he was stuck in a nightmare? Coach's paw pushed his head gently downward. Like a child whose head was patted as a way of letting him know that everything was going to be okay. "The war took a lot from us all," he heard Coach say in his calm rumbling voice. Understanding swung in it. It felt good to talk to someone who was able to relate to his experiences in some way. Coach, too, saw and lived through horrible things in his life. His old teacher rarely talked about it, but over the years Oz picked up enough to put the pieces together… Even if they hadn't gone through exactly the same experience, it was good to be understood. It made everything a little easier. Very slowly Oz turned his head to his former teacher, looked him in the face and asked: "What can I do to free myself from this? How can I get rid of these images?" The old gym teacher looked at him kindly and replied: "You can't. All you can do is live with them and move on. Just keep going. It's like running a marathon. Keep running and eventually you'll get to the finish line, kiddo." Oz took a deep breath and thought about Teach's well-meant words. About their meaning. Right… Even if he couldn't see the finish line now, that didn't mean it wasn't there or that he was standing still. As long as he kept running, maybe he would arrive someday, somewhere. Somewhere where he belonged. He noticed Coach nudging him, a warm, encouraging grin on his bearded face. "How about a practice round right now?", Coach asked him, nodding over to the empty hall. Oz laughed weakly. He probably could have guessed right away that his colleague would invite him to a workout. But yeah… why not? "Good. But please, this time without any pitfalls." Life had enough of those already. "Hohoho, I guess you had enough of those for today," Coach agreed with him cheerfully. Oz realized that he felt somewhat lighter as he stood up from the bench and started to move forward.

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