Misha lazily sprawled on his desk as the bell rang, staring at the blackboard with empty eyes. Soon, his mind wandered elsewhere, and the teacher's words went in one ear and out the other, becoming background noise.
The conversation between his sister and Gabriel was the only thing he could think of; he couldn't get it out of his head. Last night, he even lost sleep over it, resulting in dark circles under his eyes.
Ah, man, having a good night's sleep was becoming harder by the day. Although Misha often slept like the dead, it wasn't a restorative sleep, and he didn't feel refreshed in the morning. Every night, his mind was preoccupied with this or that, not letting him rest, and stress slowly piled up.
After traveling back in time, Misha discovered events and details he had never known or never paid any heed to in his past life. With his grown-up mind, he now could discern some pieces of information that he hadn't figured out as a child, and the more he learned, the more it weighed him down.
And Misha knew very well that he wasn't a genius. Like always, he was only following his gut, and thus many things remained shrouded in mystery. Still, anyone with a brain could tell that Gabriel's family situation was as complicated as it was twisted. But unlike him, his sister seemed to be in the know and helped her boyfriend handle his stepmother's nasty temper, even at the cost of her own happiness.
When that thought crossed his mind, Misha unconsciously narrowed his eyes, his facial expression growing gloomier.
How much did his sister know? Had she always been aware of Gabriel's real personality? In their past life, was he the only one left in the dark, clueless about Gabriel's ordeals and problems?
Why…? Why didn't they tell him anything?!
Misha bit his lips, frowning. The same thoughts were coming back to haunt him again. In a way, ignorance was bliss; what he had learned lately had shaken him up to the core, more than he wanted to admit.
Like it or not, Misha had hated Gabriel for many years, blaming him for everything, for his misery and lonely days. Now that he realized that reality wasn't what he had always thought it to be, his entire world shattered to pieces, and a new one slowly started to form.
But was it for the better? Who knows.
At the moment, however, he couldn't accept a new reality so easily. Because if everything he knew was inaccurate, what was the point of his past life? Why did he hold onto his hatred and anger for so long? It called into question all of his beliefs—and previous actions.
Misha was still self-reflecting, his forehead pressed against his desk, when his teacher's shrill voice resonated throughout the classroom. It had the merit of snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Misha! If my teaching is so boring that it makes you sleepy enough to drool on your desk, you may as well leave the class and go home. I'm sure your parents will be more than happy to tuck you up in bed."
Standing in front of the blackboard, the woman in her late forties appeared aggravated to death by Misha's behavior. She was his teacher last year, and she more or less knew what to expect from that kid. In her eyes, Misha was the kind of child who was always spacing out, staring at who knows what. Or, to put it bluntly, a brainless fool that didn't understand anything, even the most basic problem. It was infuriating to grade that kid's papers tests, which were filled with mistakes when they weren't straight out left blank.
She had long thought that this kid would grow into a good-for-nothing, becoming a burden to society. Consequently, teaching him was a waste of her time, and she would rather focus her efforts on the children who were dutifully listening to her lessons and whose grades were excellent. But, of course, she couldn't do that and still had to take care of the problem child.
Today, however, she finally couldn't take it anymore and snapped. Lately, that child didn't space out just as much; instead, he outright slept on his desk right under her nose. If he wasn't, he was yawning or gazing out the window, looking bored out of his mind.
Under the teacher's disdainful eyes, Misha blinked a few times before smiling brightly. Then, he said in a cheerful tone as he straightened his back, "What are you waiting for? Please go ahead and call my parents! I can't wait to go home and sleep in an actual bed. The school desks are hard on the neck, you know?"
The classroom fell into a shocked silence as the woman choked on her words, staring at the child with bulging eyes. She even thought that her ears were playing tricks on her for a second.
She loved to pick on Misha not only because she found him displeasing to the eye but also because he was an easy target. The other children isolated him, and he was mentally weak, always lowering his head whenever the other kids bullied him, not daring to fight back. And usually, whenever she brought up his parents, Misha would shrink and become obedient, allowing her to vent her pent-up frustration on him as much as she wanted.
Yet, today seemed different. For starters, that kid dared to talk back with such a light tone—it left her speechless.
"What? You're not going to call?" Misha sighed regretfully, slightly bending his upper body over the desk as he lazily propped his chin with his hand, staring at the woman with cold blue eyes.
Although his childhood memories were blurred, he still had a faint impression of that particular teacher. She had been worse than the bullies, constantly reprimanding him for his poor grades in front of his classmates. She used him as an example of what not to become, crushing his self-esteem over again and over again.
If it hadn't been for his mother and sister's help, he would never have been able to get passing grades. That teacher deemed him an idiot from the very beginning and didn't intend to teach him properly.
Later, Gabriel helped him with his classes, patiently teaching him everything. Of course, his grades still weren't astonishing, but they were passable, and it was enough to rejoice both his sister and Gabriel, who would then praise him to no end.
As long as he did his best, they were satisfied. Misha didn't need to be the best; he didn't need to be smart; he just needed to be himself and work hard.
Unlike his younger self, Misha wasn't easily affected by other people's words, at least not when he considered them to be outsiders. He didn't take their remarks to heart anymore. Besides, he didn't even need to attend this teacher's classes, so he didn't care about being rude or angering her. He wasn't afraid to be a bother to his parents either.
His mother was a housewife and wasn't as busy as his father. She had the time to come and fetch him, and knowing her, she wouldn't lose her temper over such a small matter. Instead, she would pamper him and ask him if something had happened, comforting him with a gentle voice.
And currently, his head was hurting like hell.
Misha did want to go home asap and sleep. In any case, he had nothing left to learn from this school, and he was only attending it to maintain appearances. He wasn't stupid to the point that he wouldn't be able to answer a few elementary school paper tests, so even if he were to skip school every day, it wouldn't be problematic. That being said, going to school was only a waste of time. Misha had more urgent matters to attend to. For instance, Gabriel's situation was worrisome enough to drive him crazy, and he still had to think about his loved ones' future.
A drunkard was to hit his mother on Christmas Eve in a few months, and his sister would take her own life in a few years. So who cared about elementary school subjects and entertaining this ill-mannered teacher of his?
To top it all off, Misha had no idea what his behavior was like in his younger days, so he thought that he might as well be himself at school, releasing a bit of stress and tension in passing. Alright. He still made an effort and swallowed back the curses and insults, trying to act a little like a boy of his age. It shouldn't be that difficult as he had always been bratty—according to his friends.
Long story short, there was no way he would let a teacher make his life a living hell, even more so when he obediently minded his own business.
"You! Don't disrespect your teacher, or do you want a warning?" the woman said through gritted teeth, a stiff smile stretching her bright red lips.
"How am I being rude? Aren't you the one who wants to send me home?" Misha shrugged, pretending he hadn't noticed the fierce gaze she threw at him. "If agreeing with you makes me rude, I won't agree with you anymore."
Before the teacher could reply, there was a knock on the door, drawing everyone's attention. The transfer student had just arrived, cutting short the teacher's fit of temper.
Still, the woman didn't forget to glare at Misha, warning him, "This is not the end of it, you heard me?"
"How can I not hear you? Your voice is louder than thunder," Misha retorted, picking his ear with a bored look on his face.
However, that bored look of his instantly faded away when his eyes landed on the transfer student; it was soon replaced by disbelief.
'What the hell is she doing here?!' Misha inwardly cried out, having to rub his eyes a few times to make sure they weren't playing tricks on him. 'Weren't we supposed to meet again in ten years? Why did she appear in front of me ahead of time?! For fuck's sake, it's the second time already! Seriously, this is bad for my heart!'
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Mini Theater
MC: Gabriel is a better teacher than that nag. Hmph.
ML: Well, even though I took the time to teach you, you still didn't graduate from high school in your past life.
MC: Forget what I just said. You're the worst teacher in history.
ML: …
__________________________
Chapter revised on 2022-05-20
Edited by Clozed! ♥
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