When Jean stepped into the bathroom, all he could hear were heavy breaths, almost like an animal growling.
His heart started racing as he tried to figure out what it was. But slowly, the breathing began to ease, and the growls faded.
"Shawn?" he called, hesitation thick in his voice.
There was no response, but he knew Shawn was there.
He had seen him enter.
After a moment, one of the stall doors- the one the sounds had come from- opened, and Shawn stepped out.
He looked calm.
But Jean could tell it was only on the surface. Something deeper was off, and it showed.
"You know… for some reason, I don't think all this anger is just because I'm a student, or because I lied to you," Jean said, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "It's not even about me showing up at your place when you told me not to. What's going on with you? I know we're not that close- we've never really been friendly, but we can talk, right? What's wrong with that?"
As Jean spoke, he could tell that he was already annoying Shawn, and he was afraid of whatever Shawn might say.
But Shawn didn't respond, and he didn't leave either.
He just stood there, restless, his fingers loosely curled at his sides.
Jean's gaze dropped to his hand, and saw blood. He panicked for a second, and without thinking, he grabbed it, forcing Shawn's fingers open.
He froze, his eyes widening in shock. There were four deep marks in Shawn's palm, as though something with claws had dug into his skin.
Shawn pulled his hand away almost immediately.
But Jean had already seen it.
None of it made sense. Shawn didn't have long nails. Even if he had clenched his fist tightly, it couldn't have caused wounds like that.
"What happened?" Jean asked, his voice tight with concern and disbelief. "Did something attack you?" He had heard the growl coming from that same stall.
Shawn still didn't answer and turned to leave, but Jean grabbed his hand again to pull him back, and in that moment his eyes fell once more on Shawn's palm. Only to realize that the wounds he had seen earlier were gone completely, leaving only traces of blood behind.
Jean froze as his eyes widened again in shock, blinking hard as if forcing himself to understand what he was seeing, but nothing made sense.
Was he losing his mind?
"What the hell is going on?" he muttered under his breath.
"What do you want?" Shawn asked, his voice tight and his body visibly restless.
"I just saw..." Jean started.
"You saw blood," Shawn cut him off immediately. "I got angry and punched the wall hard enough to split my knuckles."
He lifted his hand and showed the back of it, where blood smeared across his knuckles made it hard to tell if there was any wound there.
Jean turned Shawn's hand over- to the Palm's side, but there was nothing there- no wounds, no marks at all.
He let out a slow breath as his thoughts started to blur.
Maybe he really had imagined it.
And maybe it was because his mind was a mess right now, overloaded and playing tricks on him. It wasn't the first time he had imagined something strange either; earlier, he had even been certain that Shawn's eyes had flickered like fire, which was ridiculous.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
"Jean."
Shawn finally spoke, saying his name for the first time since they met. His voice was calm, low… and somehow, hearing his name from him carried a warmth that wrapped around Jean.
For a second, Jean wanted to hear him say it again.
"I'm asking you this calmly, let's stay away from each other, unless it's something professional," Shawn added.
"I didn't follow you to this hotel, if that's what you're thinking," Jean cut in immediately.
"I didn't say you followed me to the hotel," Shawn replied, still calm. "But you followed me to the bathroom. That's what I'm talking about."
"I just want to talk," Jean muttered.
"Then speak," Shawn said without hesitation.
Jean went quiet for a second.
The emotions hit him all at once, out of nowhere. Stronger than he expected.
"It's not fair," he said finally. "The way you're treating me after everything. I get that this was supposed to be a one-night thing, but the fact that you didn't stop me when I came back the second, the third, and the fourth time doesn't give you the right to act like this is one-sided and just… go cold on me."
He hated how pathetic he sounded, but he couldn't stop.
It was like he could feel his control slipping when it came to Shawn, and there was nothing he could do about it.
"I told you today that we need to stop whatever was going on, for obvious reasons. Did I have to spell them out?" Shawn said.
"You told me?" Jean shot back queitly. "You mean when you called me disgusting?"
"I didn't mean it," Shawn said. "I used the wrong word. I just… needed you to stay away, and I thought that would work."
Jean's chest loosened instantly.
He hadn't meant it.
He had just been trying to push him away.
That should have made things clear. It should have made Jean back off, but instead, it lit something dangerous inside him- Hope.
Maybe Shawn didn't actually want to push him away, maybe he was only doing it because he had to.
Jean's thoughts spiraled fast.
What if things could be different? What if they could actually be something?
He obviously liked Shawn. And Shawn didn't truly want him gone, which only meant he liked him back.
So what was the real problem?
The only issue was that he was a student, and Shawn was a teacher. But he was graduating soon. So what was stopping them?
Jean shook his head slightly, snapping himself back as he noticed Shawn watching him with a confused expression.
"Are we clear now?" Shawn asked.
"Apart from the fact that I'm a student and you're my teacher… what else is making you push me away?" Jean asked before he could stop himself.
Shawn stared at him blankly.
"What exactly are you trying to suggest?" he asked, disbelief clear in his voice. "Don't even think of going there. You're only going to hurt yourself."
His tone hardened.
"I already told you, we have to stop this. Even this right now is wrong. If someone walks in, it'll start rumors we don't need. You should walk away before you get emotionally invested in something that will never exist."
He paused, then added, quieter but heavier,
"There are bigger reasons why this has to end. And besides that," Shawn continued, "you're still a teenager. You should be with people your own age. I'm twenty-six right now. You're in high school. And like I told you before… this isn't really my thing."
He exhaled.
"I hope this is the last time we have this kind of conversation. Or that you follow me into private spaces."
With that, he turned and walked toward the door without waiting for a response. At the door, he nearly collided with Jean's father who was walking into the bathroom.
"Sorry," Jean's father said.
But Shawn didn't respond.
He shot him a sharp, cutting glare- one that felt like it could pierce straight through- and walked past him without a word.