Chapter Text
Max sighed.
He could not believe his luck. He had been at this school for only fourteen days, and already they were shipping him off to different departments to help out. He would have appreciated at least a month to settle in.
Well.
Another sigh. Max knew he was being petty. Still, here he was, sitting in the art room, surrounded by students who had been punished by missing their sports practice so they could help in preparing decorations for the upcoming Children’s Day event.
It would have been perfectly fine if only the art teacher had been talking to him. Max loved company—he adored listening to people’s stories, and he relished any chance to tell his own. If only he had managed to break the ice in the five minutes the art teacher had spared to explain how to fold the hand fans. If only there had been time for a more casual conversation.
The other librarian, Daniel, had said nothing but good things about the art teacher, Charles Leclerc. Max wanted to leave a good impression, and for that, he needed to focus on folding the fans correctly.
“You know, you don’t need to glare at the paper,” Charles, the art teacher, chuckled, startling Max out of his thoughts.
“You could’ve warned a guy!” Max exclaimed, pressing a hand to his heart and taking a few deep breaths to steady himself.
“Coffee?” Charles offered, sliding a mug toward him.
Max smiled his thanks, took the mug, and tasted the drink. “Oh, this is divine!”
“Special blend,” Charles said with a grin that was just a little too smug for Max’s liking. “How are you finding the school so far?”
“A bit hectic,” Max admitted. “Good people, though.”
“Ha! Give it a month. Everyone will show their true colours,” Charles said with a laugh.
“Well, I only meant Daniel… and you,” Max replied.
“Me?” Charles asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
“Mhm.” Max’s smile widened. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“Oh, that is worrying, mon chéri,” Charles said, letting out a laugh that was somewhere between amused and exasperated.
“Why?” Max asked, unable to help himself. “Are you not… good?”
“‘Good’ and ‘bad’ are far too broad,” Charles said with a sigh. “I think I’m good, but others might not agree. You might think you’re bad, but I might not see you that way at all. I know what most of the faculty say. I know many don’t respect me or my passion for my subject.” He shrugged lightly. “I might seem weird to you once you get to know me.”
“And who says I’m not weird?” Max countered, taking another sip of the delicious coffee. “Also, Charles, you absolutely need to give me this blend. I’m already addicted.”
“If I do, I won't have any excuse to treat you,” Charles said, turning back toward his workstation. “Now, we should get back to it. We have to make two hundred of these fans.”
“TWO HUNDRED?!” Max nearly choked. “No wonder you needed extra hands!”
“Tick-tock, tick-tock,” Charles giggled as he walked away.
“On it, boss!” Max called after him, returning to the folding with renewed determination.
As Max settled back into the rhythm of creasing paper, he realised he missed Charles’ warmth at his side.
A bit.
Just a tiny bit.
Max smiled to himself. Maybe this was the start of something new. Perhaps the beginning of an unexpected friendship. He could not wait to go home and tell Victoria that he might already be making new friends at work.
Right then and there, Max decided that today had been a very good day.