~All in my zone, all in my space,

Life is always in the way,

All in my zone, all in my space,

Life is always in the way~

Class began to draw to an end. Zayn was still hanging onto every word the professor said, soaking up the math knowledge and the time he got to spend around his crush. He stared at the head full of dark hair, the tattoo poking through his short sleeve, the deep brown eyes that always captivated him the most. By the time he came back to the world, everyone else in the classroom was gone, and there was just Zayn and Grant.

He stood up, stretching far too excessively, trying to draw out the amount of time that the two of them would be in the same room. Biceps, triceps, quads, hamstrings. "Do you have any questions, Zayn?" Grant asked him, noticing the show his student was putting on.

Zayn stopped now that the professor was facing him and not cleaning the whiteboard off. "No, I don't. Not today."

Grant smiled, teeth showing, the tattoo poking out a little more than usual, and picked up his briefcase. "Have a nice day!"

Zayn's eyes cast to the ground as he began to gather his things. The spell was broken. "You too," He said quietly, grabbing his backpack.

Grant seemed to linger a little longer before heading towards the door. So much so that Zayn was about five feet behind him when he reached the opening into the hallway. "Hey," The student called out, causing the professor to turn around, the smile still present. But that slid off of his face when he saw Zayn's serious look.

"Yes?" Grant furrowed his eyebrows.

Zayn needed to do something. Say something. He was full of confidence in other areas, so why couldn't this be one of them. "I like you," He started, like a child. "Like like you like you." Grant moved to say something, but Zayn held up a hand to stop him, moving a step or two forward. "There's physical attraction - because you're hot, duh. But it's more than that. My heart breaks every time you walk out that door and I can't see you again for several days. When you smile or look at me, everything stops moving. And I know this isn't okay, but I don't know what to do. I can't stop the way I feel about you. I could write you a hundred page book about how I feel, set it on fire, and cast it down a river and even that wouldn't be a big enough show for my head and my heart to stop this."

Grant stood there, his face blank as he took in Zayn's words. "Sit down," He said softly, and the two of them sat in the nearest chairs, right next to each other. The closest they had ever been to each other. But Zayn knew it was to talk about how bad this was - a crush on a professor.

He continued babbling. "And there's no way that you would ever feel the same about me, because I'm insane. Insane! You're a professor, and I'm nineteen! I worked so hard to get into the school - I can't get kicked out!"

"Zayn," Grant started, to get him to stop talking. Not a single emotion played on his face, and Zayn's heart broke instantly. Tears slipped down his face, and then Grant's mask broke. Grabbing the younger one's shoulders, he began to whisper-talk in a very intimate passion. "I'm married, and I'm your professor. Getting romantically involved is simply not ideal for both of us. I've never had a student make such a bold declaration of love before, but I can assure you that you will not be the last, Zayn. You're just going to need to move on."

Zayn shook his professor's hands off of his shoulders, trying to immediately forget what the sensation felt like, but he couldn't. "Thank you," He said, eyes red, and then ran out of the room. Full on sprinting down the hallway towards the doors, but he was running too fast and the tears clouded his world, so he slammed into a wall at top speed, and slid to the ground.

It was the conversation that was expected - the worst case scenario. And yet he felt like it had resolved nothing. Not once did Professor Grant say that he was not attracted or interested in Zayn, nor did he say anything about Zayn being a guy. He sat in the hallway and cried his eyes out, people walking by to their late afternoon classes, not bothering to notice him.

Once everyone was gone, Professor Grant walked out of the classroom he had finished teaching in fifteen minutes prior, and saw Zayn sitting on the floor crying. He told himself that he should walk past, not give in to Zayn's desires, but instead he held his hand out to help him up. Zayn's brown eyes stared up at the man who was the reason he was crying. He didn't bother to shield his tears, but he didn't take the offered hand. Instead he got up himself and zipped his satchel closed. "I'm fine," He said, jutting his chin out.

Professor Grant turned around, briefly scanning up and down the hallway, and outside the door. Then he looked back at Zayn, who was creeping towards the door. He dropped his briefcase and lightly pressed the dark-haired, brown-eyed boy up against the wall. Soft lips met in a kiss accepted and reciprocated by both sides, deepening enough to let Grant's hands rest on Zayn's cheeks, gently wiping the tears away, and for Zayn to run his hands through the thick hair on top of the professor's hair.

After a moment too long, Grant lightly pushed himself away and said, "Alright then."

Zayn floated back to his room, the crying session long forgotten. Because words didn't matter - the actions did. How was he not supposed to dance his way through the quad, jumping off of benches and stones while High School Musical songs played in his head?

Several moments later, Edwin was staring down at him while he hugged his pillow and squealed like a teenager girl, rolling around in his bed and thinking of the kiss. The kiss. What else was there to freak out about? Once that scene lasted ten minutes too long, his roommate offered him a Coke. "I went out and bought more," He said quietly, and Zayn was back in the real world. He had homework to do and feelings of anger over the soda to internally resolve now that there was more of it.

"Thank you," Zayn took it and grabbed his satchel, thinking of how his lips tingled even before he started drinking the soda.

And once all of the homework is for the moment, done, Zayn grabs a notebook to doodle in. Art hasn't been something he's devoted any time to in the last year and a half. Edwin was already asleep, so Zayn danced quietly while music flowed through his earbuds and he drew dragons and snakes, and yes, Professor Grant.