Abir/Mishti

Often people spoke about the surge of adrenaline rushing through their veins when they found the motivation they'd so long been lacking, Mishti had felt that, enjoyed that, but she didn't enjoy this. Sitting in a comfortable chair with your legs up, earphones in and fluid dripping down your arm wasn't exactly the way anyone wanted to start their day, but it was the way she started hers.

Lately, it was always the way she started hers.

She'd been told to bring books, university work, even a friend or family member, but she hadn't brought any. Her arm felt too heavy to flip through pages or write, her head too drowsy to concentrate and she was yet to speak the truth to those she loved. The last time she said "I have cancer" it hadn't gone down well, there weren't many tears just pin drop silence, prayers and a tight hug that pushed all the broken pieces into something stronger. How could she possibly tell them that the cancer was back? That it was worse now? She couldn't. She wouldn't. This was hers to fight not theirs, she would hurt a thousand times over but they never would.

Peering down at the message icon on her mobile, she sighed loudly. Any other day and a snarky response was what she'd type but today had tired her out already and she certainly didn't feel like making anyone's life or her own anymore difficult than it already was. So, she apologised, admitted her mistake for earlier saying that she pushed her thoughts into his mind and told him simply: You should be able to come to your own conclusions without fear of judgement or anyone trying to change your mind. Then she threw her head back, shut her eyes slowly and allowed her soul to abscond into the safety of the music in her ears.

Abir wasn't exactly one to go over the same thing in his head countless times, he was more of the live and let live type. When he made mistakes he accepted it, pondering over the what-ifs only led to more stress than necessary, so he tended to stray from it, but something about his student's message had left him thinking and before he knew it he had typed out the very first message he'd ever sent to begin contact with her himself. Tracing his own message, he jumped at the ping that signalled her response, read over his own message quickly, You said 'I'll believe what I like and you believe what I like' which isn't exactly accepting of the fact that I should be allowed my own views. Then read over hers. He did not know what he was expecting but it certainly wasn't this. God, he knew it was wrong, but what could he do? He was only human and the constant thinking about the same thing was bound to drive him mad all while distracting him from the marking he really, really needed to get done.
His brows joined. This wasn't normal. The girl who always argued her point never gave up this easily, so he just had to ask. What, no witty comment or effort to prove me wrong?

Not today.

She was incredibly annoying, so really he should've accepted the win and left it, but something told him to dig a little further. Afterall, he had a duty of care even if the lines were beginning to blur. Is everything okay?

Mishti thought about lying, but what was the point? He'd never find out who she was, he may guess but he'd never know for sure and having someone to go through this with her wouldn't be the worst thing, especially as it meant she could be honest about how scared she really was. If you must know, no.

His heart dropped. Is there any way I can help? What else could he say? What could he do?

No. But heavens above she wished there was.

I'm sorry.

At that, her lips twitched into a rare smile. Don't be. Licking her lips, she nodded as a nurse and spoke aloud "As they say, cancer's only funny when you have it, what's to be sorry about? We all have our challenges, we all die eventually, this is my route and that's okay" part of her wanted to say it to him, part of her rested in the comfort of the words she told herself every day.

Do you feel anger is a bad thing?

For the person feeling it? Yes. It only hurts people, tell me one time it's ever done anything good?

Abir took a seat, his callused hand running down his face as he considered what to say. I think anger is a mask built from the root of pain and issues we'd rather have buried. I also think that anger is a fundamental right and if we don't allow ourselves to be mad then we'll never be sane.

Hm, guess I never really thought about it that way. For a student in a class full of people who'd rather drink than work you seem very knowledgeable.

That's because I'm the Teacher. Usually, he'd be annoyed at having this conversation again, but actually, he'd kind of missed it.

Shuffling in her chair, Mishti's grin widened. Of course you are and I'm the President.

Honestly, with your attitude that wouldn't even surprise me.

Ass 😋.

~•~•~

"Sigmund Freud, the Father of Psychology, came up with a million and one good theories to be worked on and also a lot of crap" sitting on the edge of his desk, he began to roll his sleeves up, "For instance, he said lesbianism is always the father's fault and looked at it as curable which" he chuckled gruffly, "We all know is a lot of crap".

"Why?" A man stuck his hand up.

Dropping his head, Abir huffed "Things can only be cured if they're wrong, being a lesbian isn't a disease, Adam". Of course, he rejoiced in hearing differing views that could be discussed, but far too many of his students were far too stupid to even have moral conversations with.

"Anyway" he cleared his throat. "The question for you to work on with your partner is simple; did Hamlet suffer from an Oedipus Complex? Discuss, reach a conclusion with valid explanations and remember there's no right answer, it can be yes, it can be no, it can be both or neither, the two winning pairs get to join me in London for a free screening of Hamlet, hotel and food included" he paused, "Yes that means you have time to explore, class dismissed".

Mishti crossed her arms as she reached the desk "Sir?"

"Oh, Mishti" he smiled, "Feeling better after that hangover?"

For a moment she was lost then realising what she'd said before, she nodded. "Um" she tapped her foot, "I may have one issue with the assignment".

Sipping his coffee, he eyed her over the cup "Hm?"

"My partner is a fool".

Spluttering loudly, he smacked his chest "Sorry, is a what?"

Rolling her eyes, she huffed "A fool" she hated repeating herself.

"May I ask why?"

"Because he's claiming to be you".

Jolting awake, Abir swiped his arm over his forehead then glanced over at his phone. Was his dream more correct than his own thoughts or was the lack of sleep really impacting him? Sure, the assignment part of his dream was a reality, but was the Mishti part a reality too? Regardless, he knew exactly how to find out and how to do it fast!