August laughed some, “Have I told you about my son Jayden? He’s six now. Quite the interesting little boy. He takes more after my late wife, but he’s still my son and I can see a bit of myself in him. Like my inability to lie, but also to be to tell when someone is lying. Also my inability to drop something if I think there really is another thing going on.”
He walked around his desk and pulled out a poetry book. It was torn and looked like it had been read a hundred times. There was writing everywhere within it and August handed it to Rien, “I can see you’re having a hard time. When I was your age I went through that too and I checked this book out and I’ve had it ever since. It’s become a safety blanket for me, but I feel like a kid like you will understand it.”
He was a bit worried about parting with a book he had kept for so many years that meant so much to him, but he knew being a teacher he had a big impact on students lives, and if he just let a student having a hard time go he’d feel terrible, “Just try reading it. I have a couple of books too I think you might like. And Rien if you need something you can come to talk to me. I’m not a therapist but I was a teenager at one point too.” With that, he walked over to his desk and grabbed a sticky note to write a short note for Rien for his next class in case he was late.
rien almost wished they weren’t having this conversation. it felt strange, weird to be cared for in such a way. mr. henrik seemed to care so genuinely if he was alright or not, and it made him jealous of his son. it was ridiculous to be jealous of a six year old, he immediately thought, though he always longed for a family like that. he wished his dad had stuck around, or that his mom would spare more than just a handful of words for him everyday before giving her full attention to her art. he felt disconnected from her.
rien stared down at the book in his hands as it was handed to him, feeling a lump in his throat start to form. he had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that mr. henrik was just... giving this to him, something so special and important to him, especially when he could get his own copy at the library. the fact that he wanted to give it to him in hopes it would make him feel better made it a little hard to breathe. everything about this made it hard to breathe.
pale fingers curled around the book tight, careful not to harm it, as his mind searched for any words he could say. he opened his mouth and closed it again, barely registering that he was writing a note for him. tears stung the corners of hie eyes and he tried to blink them away, sniffling a bit. he couldn’t cry, not here, not now. not in front of his teacher. the rain beat steadily on, almost pouring now.
❝ i... thank you, mr. henrik. i don’t... i don’t really know what to say, ❞ he mumbled as one hand went to rub at his eyes. god, that was embarrassing. ❝ i’ll read it, promise. ❞
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