Falling in the Snow

Hello, Dear Readers!

This is not a sex smut. This is a slow-burn sweet _LOVE_ story with a winter theme and extremely awkward ways of courting (poems!).

Please be gentle with me, as English is my second language! :)

***

I met Professor Nolan after the summer break of my last year in college.

He was a substitute for our previous professor who moved to Canada to fulfill her dreams about spending her life closer to nature.

We were all expecting that her assistant would take her place, but it didn't happen.

Instead, Professor Nolan was hired by the college administration.

I was a student at a small suburban college, attending Art courses, with a major in Drawing and a minor in Painting. I had one last semester to go, to finish my degree, as people with my major and minor had to stay one semester longer, graduating in winter.

I was bisexual, even though people didn't know that, as I was not "stereotypically" flamboyant gay. I was tall, athletic, and played rugby in high school. I also dated girls during my college life. It was the consequence of my decision not to pursue gay relationships as I had one in my final year of high school, which didn't end well for me, to put it lightly.

My boyfriend cheated on me multiple times, and made me miserable. I was so fucking devastated and heartbroken that I cried for days, before my anger won me over and I dumped him for good.

After that, I naively tried to meet some people via Grindr, expecting I would find a new boyfriend there, but was gravely disappointed.

Being freshly out of a relationship in which I was so deeply in love, I was hoping I would find a new romantic prospect.

But I was in for another shock.

All the guys there I tried to talk to... didn't care to talk.

I quickly realized all of them were only interested in my dick and fucking on the first meeting.

I was astonished by the complete lack of attempts to even get to know me a bit, before sending me their dickpics or asking for one. Was it me? Perhaps I just attracted this type, I didn't know, maybe? But they had similar approach, for sure.

One guy I decided to meet after a promising conversation, literally stripped the moment I came to his apartment, so I just turned around and left. And deleted the Grindr app on my way downstairs.

I started to seriously consider, I just didn't have it in me, to be a real gay?

I was scared to meet another carbon copy of my ex, who would fuck behind my back. I wanted real connection and trust. I wanted... monogamy.

For some time, I felt ostracized in the gay internet community. If I tried to share my views online, I was being harshly criticized and called "a prude". Possibly there were guys like me somewhere there... but they were silent, and all I got were some vile remarks about my weird and "outdated" moral requirements, only because just didn't share their approach to sex and intimacy.

Overwhelmed by the dating reality, I accepted my failure and just... stopped searching.

Some things are just not meant to be, right?

My first year at college - I decided to go for girls, hoping that among them, I would find a person needing more... connection, before wanting my dick. The connection of our reproductive organs was the next step, not the first. And, happily, I did find such girls.

Call me stupid, traditional, old-school.

But I was a romantic. I wanted love!

I wanted butterflies in my stomach.

Or at least I wanted... fidelity.

The bare minimum.

Dating girls made me happy. Mostly.

The sex part was a bit... disappointing for me.

Sadly, I never mastered the art of pleasuring clits and really had no idea what I was doing. I didn't know if the girl had an orgasm or not. They would say they had, but on occasions they admitted they'd lied. So... I was not that happy with the realization that it's much more tricky to recognize if a girl climaxed or not, than with a boy.

But okay, I accepted that they were prices to pay for what I wanted, so at least I had cuddles and slow weekends, and love confessions, and the romantic atmosphere I craved so much.

The hookup culture wasn't for me. I was definitely born in the wrong times, I just didn't fit in and felt depressed about that, constantly thinking what was wrong with me?

Why couldn't I just be like the rest of guys?

But to my own torment and demise, I was different.

And I wasn't able to change the way I felt.

People in college didn't know about my gay past, and why should they? If I decided to forget about that, even though at night I dreamed about having gay sex, I knew it was just not in the cards for me. I firmly believed I had near zero chances to meet another gay person with similar views. I believed I was doomed to forget about men if I wanted monogamy and a life-long relationship.

That day we were having drawing workshops and I forgot that it was the first day when Professor Nolan would work with us.

I was sitting in front of my easel in the corner of the classroom, as always, because of my substantial size I had to be at the back.

The professor came inside.

I didn't look at him at first, deeply immersed in my phone.

Finally I glanced at him, and raised my eyebrows. Definitely, he wasn't the colorful artsy stereotype I was picturing him before he showed up - more like a clerk or a librarian.

The professor wore a classical, black suit.

His height was around 5'8'' and his figure was so scrawny and bony that he was almost unhealthy looking. He seemed very pale, with brown slicked back hair, tied in a short ponytail over his thin neck. His glasses were small, giving him a weird "Herr Otto Flick" vibe. I couldn't guess his age. He was probably around thirty, but I was not certain.

For some reason I fixed my gaze on him, I don't even know why.

It was like... a revelation. A fate?

I was unable to tear my eyes off him, really.

There was something about him, some peculiar fragility, that made me stare, even though objectively speaking he was rather inconspicuous. But his energy, something about him spoke to me, attracted me...

Such a very peculiar situation.

I stared and stared... as he started the lecture by giving us a bit of a history about artists drawing nudes in the past, as we were scheduled to draw a female nude today.

He brought with him a... very nude lady around 70 years of age, and we were supposed to draw her wrinkled body.

While I was trying to focus on the board, where the professor displayed some paintings using the projector, I received a message from my friend, Joel, who was also with me on this workshop but put his easel closer to the window in a search for better light.

"I heard the rumor that Nolan was off the teaching job for one year, on some kind of temporary retirement. He is gay! Supposedly his husband died in a car accident and Nolan was so devastated he couldn't continue to work. He only recently moved to our city."

Wow. Nolan was gay? And a widower?

I scrubbed my chin, eying him. He didn't look 'gay', that's for sure.

Maybe he wasn't one of the 'grindr gays' I was so scared of? He mourned for one year after the death of his husband? Maybe he preferred long-term relationships to hookups and had a similar approach to me?

Who knows, who knows...

He had to love his husband dearly if he was so devastated that he left his job, and was unable to work. It really got me thinking.

I raised my eyes on Nolan's scrawny figure, seeing him now in a different light.

He was talking in rather quiet voice, and had no famous stereotypical "gay mannerism". He was now speaking about some theory behind creating nudes in the arts.

While he was elaborating on techniques of drawing naked bodies, he was kinda strolling between the student's easels, and I observed him with attentive eyes.

As he came a bit closer to me, zigzagging between other students, his eyes met my eyes.

I decided to smile softly.

Not like a straight man would smile to another straight man. It was a different smile. It was an invitation, a signal, if you will. I could see slight, very subtle movement of his eyebrows, as if in surprise. I knew he understood. But he didn't react in any other way.

After some consideration, I decided to be bold today.

As we all started to sketch, I went for something else. I focused my eyes on Professor Nolan, and started to sketch him!

Yep.

Pretty crazy on my side, right?

I know. But the more I observed him, the more I liked the man. He was not classically handsome by traditional means, but he had something in himself, something interesting. I couldn't pinpoint it.

When I stared at him, something in his energy was becoming... weirdly more and more attractive to me. He had some gentle aura around him. Almost delicate, fragile...

I never even believed in this kind of "infatuation at first sight", but it was clearly turning into that kind of case.

Feeling mesmerized, I observed him, as he was wandering between students and exchanging some polite small talks with them, asking about their minors and courses, and also giving them advice on how to draw some elements. He seemed like a genuinely nice person.

But what was pretty intriguing, he didn't come to me!

As if my smile scared him away?

He mostly ignored me for the whole hour, which in a way worked in my favor as I finished drawing him - sitting on his stool.

I decided to go for a three-quarter view, with him leaning a bit forward, his phone in his hand, as he was from time to time stopping there and browsing something on his phone, before standing up and resuming his stroll between students.

So I was happy, he didn't stop by my easel.

The class came to an end, students started to pack their stuff and leave the class one by one. And only then Professor Nolan decided to visit my station.

He approached me, then glanced at my work... and he literally froze. He blinked and looked at me. Well, he had to recognize himself, it was pretty obvious I didn't draw the nude.

"Well" he said, "You clearly didn't do what you were asked to do, which was drawing the nude. How's that gonna influence your final grade for that course? What do you think?"

I looked into his eyes. From up close I noticed he had golden-hazel irises. He seemed pretty calm and constrained. With a bit of an ironic grimace.

"Probably bad, but I just... really wanted to do it."

"You shouldn't. It's an F for today."

He turned around and just walked away.

I swallowed. Yep, that obviously wasn't very smart on my part. He most likely took me for a class jokester. Or an insolent brat. Maybe even a troll?

And I was nothing like that. It really was my genuine - although lame - attempt to signal I was interested in him.

I bit my lip. I took the drawing off the easel and followed Nolan. We were already alone in the class, and he was packing his stuff into a small suitcase.

"Okay, F is fair, as it's not a nude. I have only one question. Is it any good?"

He raised his eyes to me again.

"Don't make your situation even worse than it already is."

"Please. Do you like it even a bit?" I asked quietly, almost shyly.

For a second his eyes bore into my face, as if checking if I was joking or being serious. I wasn't sure what he saw.

"I want to give it to you..." I interrupted myself because he just ignored me and walked past me to get out of the class.

Bad luck - as it turned out to be, I had one more course with him, and the classes took place two times a week. It was History of art (so in total - it was three times a week when I was in his class). I was pretty glad as I liked the topic and was pretty good at that, so I could at least be a star student at that course.

As he came into the lecture hall he was probably surprised I was sitting in a front row, exactly in front of him.

His eyes fixed on my face with a slight annoyance. I wasn't doing good with my creepy stalker-ish ways of... exactly what? I wasn't even sure where I was going with that. It could look like I was courting him in a very stupid and inappropriate way.

But most likely for him, it looked like I was fucking around. Trolling him?

As he started the lecture I could stare at him as much as I wanted, since he was a lecturer. It gave me weird, almost sweet pleasure.

He was still wearing black suit that pretty much covered all his bony body, not leaving even a bit for me to observe. Only dainty hands and his pale face were bared.

I analyzed his grimaces, or rather... the lack thereof. His face was very calm, almost impassive.

He really looked like a stiff librarian. He had a thin nose and narrow jaw line with high Slavic cheekbones, making his face a bit heart-shape, maybe even feminine. For me, however, he had pleasant and regular face features, that I found attractive.

At one moment I took out my phone and quickly checked his name on the college main page, in the teachers' section.

It was Sebastian.

Sebastian Nolan.

Feeling like a high-schooler, I wrote his name in my notebook just for the pleasure of doing something that was somehow related to his person.

I even added some decorative flowers around.

Yep. I know, I know.

Cringe.

Was I kinda... falling for him?

Same childish type of crush? Knowing virtually NOTHING about the man? Only that he was devastated after his husband's death. Was I romanticizing him?

I continued to listen to his lecture and observed him, but he pretty much ignored me the whole time.

As the lecture ended he said that we may expect a pop-quiz any time. Not to play on his nerves I went out of the lecture hall pretty quickly. Somehow I was afraid he would confront me.

I decided to do something else that day. Even more weird!

I wrote... something like a poem.

VERY, very bad one, but I wasn't a poet, so it was just a lame attempt at romantic poem-writing.

Something happened to me

when I saw you

I don't want to fail,

I need a cue

Don't push me away

Please, listen to my plea

But I know...

You would never look at me.

Anyway.

Horrible, yes. And overdramatic.

But I wrote it on a pink paper with a kitten in the corner. I bought it especially for that purpose.

I took it with me to the next class two days later.

And... there was a pop-quiz! Great opportunity! I luckily knew the answer to all the questions he had prepared for us on the sheet. When our time to finish the quiz was coming to an end I slid my poem between two sheets and placed it in his hands. He didn't notice it, and just went by, collecting the last papers from other students.

I quickly left the lecture hall, with my heart pounding fast.

For the next two days, I didn't have classes with him, but one day, with a bit of a shock, I noticed him buying coffee at the student's cafeteria. I felt a bit panicky, as it was too late to run, and he spotted me. His eyes bore into my face. I bit my lip and quickly turned around, leaving the cafeteria in a rush.

But as I was almost running through a small corridor leading out of the building, I heard footsteps behind me and a voice:

"Silas Nash!"

I stopped right away. My heart was pounding even louder. I slowly turned to him.

Professor Sebastian Nolan was standing ten feet behind me with a tense face.

"If you won't stop with your behavior, I will have to notify the dean. What you are doing is highly inappropriate. It's your last chance. One more action like that, you will be in serious trouble."

His face was stone-cold, his lips tightened. I felt an unpleasant cramp in my stomach.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. It wasn't some stupid joke. It's what I feel."

Professor's face became even colder, or rather angrier.

"Last warning, Nash!"

I was always pretty... good at crying on call. I could literally force myself to cry at any moment. And it looked pretty real. So, I did it, but weirdly enough it didn't even take that much of an effort!

Because I kinda wanted to cry anyway. Like a small, scolded boy?

Maybe it looked like I was a manipulative dick now, but I really wanted to win his heart somehow! And I was upset it turned out to be such a failure.

So, soon two tears flowed down my cheek. I also became a bit red. It wasn't fake. I had authentic emotions: Not only was I unhappy that my lame attempts angered him, but I was scared of consequences. Meeting with the dean didn't sound very tempting.

He furrowed his eyebrows, seeing that.

"Please... I didn't want to offend you. It wasn't a joke. It was genuine..."

He said nothing. He turned around and walked away. Just like that.

So...Yep. I learned my lesson.

I literally gave up.

I didn't want to have any troubles in my last semester, so the next drawing class I was just obediently drawing what he prepared (still-life this time) not looking at him at all, almost like he wasn't present in the room.

Saddened, I couldn't let myself continue with this student-teacher crush.

He didn't approach me during the next class. Only at the end of it, I could hear his steps behind me. I didn't raise my head. He stood next to me in silence, looking at my sketch.

He didn't make any comments, soon after he left.

The next day I checked my grades in Blackboard, and with much surprise, I discovered that he gave me an... A for the pop-quiz and the last still-life drawing!

But one other thing was even more shocking.

I didn't have an F for the nude art! It was actually A-!

What the fuck!

Why?

I stared at my grades in shock.

Maybe I was even a bit touched.

So he wasn't an asshole after all?

He didn't punish me, even though he so easily could have.

I swallowed hard. Did he... spare me because of my crush? Did he take pity on me or did it actually mean something to him, as I so naively hoped?

During the next class I was sitting in the last row of the lecture hall. I relocated there, taking the seat next to Joel. I was pretty much avoiding the Professor gaze, being careful not to raise my head toward the board.

But after it was over, I decided to act. As the students left the room, and he was still packing something to his suitcase I approached him.

"Professor Nolan. I wanted to ask why did you give me an A- for the nude? I didn't do it. I don't deserve it. You should correct that."

He raised his eyes to me. In this light, they appeared to be light hazel. His face seemed pretty calm.

"Well, the drawing was good. Not perfect but good. And it was my first class in this college. Why would I start with giving Fs to students? I'm all for giving another chance."

Did he slightly smile? Very subtle twitch in the corners of his lips?

"Do I have another chance?" I whispered, lowering my head.

"At the classes and drawing, yes. At nothing more." His voice sounded official.

I raised my eyes again and for a moment, we just stared at each other. It was weird.

Really weird.

For a second, I could swear I saw something in him, something... more. Almost like he wanted to tell me I shouldn't give up, but I have to take another approach. Or maybe I was imagining it? Probably.

I nodded. "I understand. I won't bother you again, please forgive me. It was all well-meant and genuine."

I headed toward the exit, but suddenly I heard his quiet voice behind me,

"But why? Why did you do that in the first place? It could sabotage your whole college education."

I slowly turned to him, feeling blush on my cheeks. I considered what I could tell him, but I decided to stick with the truth.

"Do you want me to be honest?"

He nodded.

"Because I stopped meeting guys after a heartbreak and being cheated upon multiple times. I gave it up, not believing I would ever meet a decent guy. But there was a rumor you were married and were in mourning for one year." I hesitated for a moment. "I don't want to sound insensitive, or selfish, especially in the face of such tragic situation... But you asked for honesty." I spread my hands. "So here it is. I thought maybe you are that one guy that can actually be in more meaningful relationship than just this never-ending, pointless hookups. I didn't care about the age difference, I believe we could have... a shot at that. But I know I approached it badly, and I destroyed my chance, if I even had one. I'm sorry. "