thread → cause for concern.
TAGGING — George Elwyn & Sinan (Ihsan) Demirci. LOCATION — Academy grounds around Hargrave House. DATE & TIME — October 25, 2021. NOTES — George stumbles across Ihsan, out after curfew, during one of his evening walks of the grounds and tries to sort out what's going on. STATUS — Archived, headcanons agreed upon for completion.
george elwyn.
It wasn't a habit he'd intended to settle into, these rambling walks around the grounds when he ought to have been doing something more productive or simply leaving altogether. He had everything he needed to crash at his office if he felt the need to do so but his restlessness had taken him outside instead, something George wasn't going to complain about even with the chill that seemed to permeate everything as the weather began to change. There were a great many nooks and crannies to be found on campus that allowed him and, he was sure, countless others to pause and simply breathe in the peace of the evening. He wasn't unaccustomed to running into students or other members of the faculty during his occasional evening walks if the hour was early enough but it was a quiet night, nothing more than the sound of animals more comfortable in the cover of the night.
He huffed out a breath, admiring the soft fog left in its wake for a fraction of a second before he heard a rustling around the corner and his brow furrowed. It was likely none of his business or even something he needed to pay attention to in the first place but his curiosity, as it often did, seemed to guide him more than good sense as he stepped around the corner to find a familiar-- to some extent-- figure rustling about in the garbage.
"Ihsan?" George made a point to remain at the end of the path that led closer to the younger man, his concern not yet outweighing his care for any boundaries the other man might need or want in that moment. "Is everything alright? It's... a bit late for this, isn't it?" A silly question and one that George half-regretted voicing the moment it passed his lips, though he certainly wasn't going to go through the fumbling process of taking it back now. He took a few, fairly tentative steps, towards his student with nothing more than genuine concern in his expression. "It's after curfew."
Sinan ( Ihsan ) Demirci.
Ihsan had done his best that night to clean up. The air had been heavy with the metallic scent of blood. It made his stomach turn, and he actively had to breathe through the impulse to throw up as he pulled the knife from his door, plucked the bloody petals from the ground, and crumpled up the note, tossing it all into a small trash bin from his room. He ruined an entire bath towel scrubbing everything in the area; the door, the handle, the hardwood floor below, and threw it into the bin as well with no hope of washing out the stains. When everything was as clean as he could make it, he tied off the bag and threw it into his closet.
Over the days that followed, he considered what to do with it. Should he turn it in? ( But to who? Who could he trust with something like this? ) Should he hold onto it, for evidence in case someone came by to follow through with it’s threat? ( Or could it somehow be used to incriminate him in something awful? His fingerprints were on the knife now, after all, and he had no idea where the blood had actually come from. )
Finally, he decided it just needed to go, come what may. Right or wrong, it couldn’t stay wrapped up in his closet anymore — he was losing even more sleep than usual over it ( the dark circles beneath his eyes were testament to that ), and he felt a chill trickle down his spine every single time he walked past the closet door, knowing it sat there, waiting for him to decide. To do something with it.
Leaving the dorm after curfew was a risk, but he didn’t want anyone to see him; to stop him on his way, to ask any questions about the bag he carried. He wanted to get rid of it as quickly and as painlessly as he could in the dumpster behind Hargrave, to bury it beneath layers of filth, and watch from his balcony as the truck came by in the morning to take it away. Ihsan was leaning into the dumpster, trying to clear enough trash out of the way so that his bag could sink to the bottom, when he heard his name and nearly jumped out of his own skin. He spins around, the bag still in hand, to find the source of the voice, though the accent was enough of a give away by itself. “Professor Elwyn,” he breathes out, finding the man standing there a small distance away. His pulse pounds loudly in his ears, the dread of being caught swallowing him whole.
How the fuck was he going to get out of this?
“Curfew, right, yeah. I know. I know it’s really late. I just had to, uh..” The instructor took a few steps forward, and Ihsan a few back until he was pressed against the dumpster with nowhere left to retreat. “I just had to throw this away, before it made the room smell or.. uh.. something.”
george elwyn.
"... Right."
George paused the moment the word passed his lips, recognizing the dubious note in his voice that he made a note to correct when next he spoke. Beneath the general sense of confusion he felt as he watched Ihsan practically try to melt into the dumpster as he drew even a fraction closer he was more than a little concerned. He'd always been the sort of man inclined towards helping people with little regard to the circumstances that had aligned to give him the urge in the first place and he quietly ran through a priority list for the situation at hand: first and foremost, assuring Ihsan that he wasn't going to be punished for anything at all when George's first concern was his well-being.
"You're not in trouble, little one," He said after a moment, taking a step away from the younger man to be doubly sure he wasn't going to intimidate the poor boy should he continue to encroach upon his space. He was a large man-- always had been-- and had always been remarkably careful with how he operated in the space of others in any capacity.
"I really do want to know whether you're alright, frankly. That's..." He hummed, his face twisting for a moment before broad shoulders rose in a shrug and George studied the other man with more than a little curiosity. "That's really my primary concern at the moment. I understand if you'd rather not tell me exactly what's in whatever it is you're trying to toss and I... won't pry, for the moment. It seems a bit unnecessary in my list of concerns at present." He exhaled slowly, crossing his arms over his chest as he tried to wrangle his thoughts into something markedly more clear. He was a well-spoken person more often than not but he wanted to be clear in his goals and desires in this sort of instance, especially. Though Ishan wasn't one of his students in any direct way George had always made it a point to get to know as many of the Dominant students as he possibly could, even if that knowledge only extended to their names until they found themselves in his class at some point during their careers at the academy. In some cases that wasn't a milestone they reached and George contented himself with getting to know them as best he could outside of that particular parameter.
"Are you in trouble? Not-- with me or with the academy or whatever else that could mean. Do you need help? In some way I could manage, in this moment. I'm only asking you to talk to me - just for a moment. Could you do that? Please?"
Sinan ( Ihsan ) Demirci.
Wary eyes could almost see the thoughts arranging inside the other man’s skull as he judged the bullshit story he’d been given. Not a single part of him expected the professor to actually buy it, and his breath hovers nervously in the awkward silence between them, suspended in his own anxiety as he awaits to see how the professor would respond.
What he didn’t expect was to hear the larger man’s voice soften. For him to take a step back, as if returning to him that little bit of space so that he didn’t feel completely backed into a corner. The words he chose were warm, soothing — appealing to the parts of him that so badly just wanted to feel safe. Ihsan listens to them all, to how genuine his concern sounds, and against his better judgement feels himself slowly, carefully beginning to settle.
“I’m okay,” he says after a stretch of time following his questions, unsure where else to start but to confirm that he wasn’t hurt, at least not physically. As far as being in trouble went, “I don’t know, I might be,” is his honest answer, his tone heavy with exhaustion, his weight shifting uncomfortably from side to side where he stands. “It might be nothing. I could just be overreacting. I don’t know.”
He lets the bag down next to him as his hands raise to move through his hair, brushing the mess of loose strands back from his face, growing frustrated with how to handle this. He knew he’d have to get around explaining what he was trying to throw away eventually; it was unlikely that the professor would just let him wander back to his room with it, or leave it uninvestigated were Ihsan to toss it and just walk away.
“I just want you to know that I didn’t hurt anyone, okay? I don’t know where any of this stuff.. where the blood came from. It was just on my door one night, and.. I didn’t know what to do with it, I just.. wanted to get rid of it all.”
george elwyn.
Alarm surged through him at the mere mention of blood in relation to anything at all involving a student and though he found his eyes flickering quickly over Ihsan's form as if to confirm for his own sake that the younger man was, in fact, unharmed as he claimed to be. The moment that confirmation settled in him-- cool water on a burn in the sense of the balm it provided him-- George turned his attention towards something he'd always been gifted with: solving any problem he possibly could in any way he needed to.
He felt another urge building as his brow furrowed, his eyes-- made almost ice blue in the dim light-- shifting to the bag beside the student with a slow exhale. He was likely far too curious for the severity of the situation but he took a tentative step towards Ihsan and raised his hands, palm open, a peaceful show of gentleness he hoped would continue to allow him to relax.
"I'll stop right here if you'd rather I not come quite so close right now, but I need to see what's in the bag, Ihsan. I can't really sort out how to help you if I don't have a full picture of what you're dealing with..." George trailed off, his words quiet-- the same low, easy timbre he carried just about every conversation with-- though he was aware that it was mixed with the slightest bit of urgency born from the idea of Ihsan being in anything resembling concrete mortal peril, though that was an exceptionally dramatic way to phrase it.
"Is someone threatening you? Is this something you want brought to... someone with more authority than myself? Or would you rather we just try and sort it out? I promise you... I'm concerned with helping you as best I can. I won't tell a soul if you don't want that and I'll be as supportive as I can with... whatever it is that's going on. I know you don't know me but I do swear you can take my word for it on this, for whatever that might be worth."
Sinan ( Ihsan ) Demirci.
“No, it’s okay, it’s fine.. I just.. Didn’t expect anyone to be out here this late.” Ihsan was starting to develop a habit of being caught out after curfew. The implications of his run in with Sebastian hung treacherously over his head, and now this. But unlike when the second year Dominant had him cornered in the library, the professor was being very careful to reassure him that he was in control here. How much he was willing to bet on his sincerity, well.. that he actually didn’t have control over at all. This was going to unfold, Elwyn was going to see the contents of the bag, and however he decided to handle it after that was out of Ihsan's hands.
“I..I don’t know, maybe it’s a threat.. It might just be a prank.. It probably is just a prank. I mean.. After what happened to Westinghouse.. It’s got to be some hazing shit the legacy students are pulling off…” Ihsan gestures that he could finally come closer, and kneels down next to the bag himself, working open the knot that holds it closed. He pulls out the towel, soaked in dried blood, and unfolds it on the ground so that the other man could see what was wrapped inside; the knife, the rose and it’s petals, the note. “I don’t know who I could bring it to even if I wanted to. I don’t even know if I can trust you with this, honestly, but.. here we are. If it is a prank, then it’s me against them, and we all know how that’ll end. If it’s real.. then.. then I really don’t know what to do.. I just wanted it to go away.”
He plucks the crumpled up note from the towel and tries his best to smooth the page out before handing it to him so he could read it:
'You’re not welcome here. Leave, or next time the blood might be yours.'
“Well?” he asks after a moment, his voice thin and quiet, betraying the resurgence of his fear, “.. what do should I do, Professor?”
george elwyn.
Throughout his life George has had a reputation for being a cool-headed person, for not falling into fits of angry or intense emotion when it came to handling problems; he seemed, or so he'd been told, unflappable in the utmost but the thought of any students being threatened for what he imagined were completely asinine, elitist reasons had him clenching his fists so hard and so quickly that he was distantly aware of the sound of his knuckles popping from the force before he relaxed his hands pointedly, drawing in a deep breath as he studied Ihsan quietly.
"Would you like to tell the Headmaster?" He asked quietly, his expression earnest as it tended to be-- blue eyes soft and full of concern. "If Westinghouse were still here..." He trailed off, a frown deepening on his face. "I would feel confident that we could handle this in a manner that would give you a reasonable expectation of fairness in all of it. It's not... well, to me it feels against the values the academy is trying to espouse to allow students to be threatened on its grounds. I'm aware that may not be as true as I'd like for it to be."
After a moment's consideration George slipped his mobile from the pocket of his slacks, took a photo of both the note and the contents of the bag Ihsan had intended to throw away and tucked all of it back into the bag neatly, handing the bag to the younger man silently. "Throw it away, dove. When you're ready or when you'd be willing - I can take it to the Headmaster myself or we can do it together. I can keep your name out of it if you'd like. But I do think... as much as it adds variables to the equation-- that telling Blackwood would be the best step. Do you agree?"
Sinan ( Ihsan ) Demirci.
Immediately at the suggestion of telling Blackwood, his head shakes. There was a distinct difference at Lowell between how things should be, how they were presented to be, any how they actually were. That was especially true for himself and all of the other scholarship students. Survival was dependent on recognizing that and learning your place within it, whether it was fair, or right, or not. Often times, it was not.
At best, he expected nothing to come from it were he to bring this to the headmaster, even if he had a professor standing with him when he did. At worst, well.. At worst, maybe it really would be his blood on the next round of threats. “It’s.. a nice thought. But you’re right, it doesn’t feel like it’s as true as it should be.. And, honestly? I can’t afford to gamble on the chance of it. I need to get through this program, and.. That kind of attention? I just.. I just can’t.”
He stiffens as the man begins to take photos of the note and everything he’d been trying to get rid of. It made his stomach hurt to think that even once it was all taken to the dump that a piece of it would still be here, lingering out of his control. His concern was clear across his face, his frown deep and his brows furrowed as he continued to speak, wishing his words were as realistic as they were rational. “You.. should just delete them,” he says, honestly, taking the bag back from him. “I’d rather you did. You weren’t supposed to be here to see this, and I’m not going to bring this to anyone.. It won’t change anything except make my life harder than it already is. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, I really do.. But it’s just not that easy.”
george elwyn.
It's consistent, really, the way George processes all at once how disappointing the world he lives in is and continues to be. That people are never as equal as he hopes they'll be-- that there are so few opportunities for people to truly thrive and be left well enough alone in a system that leaks bigotry from its pores, as far as he can tell.
He realizes all at once how ridiculous the thought of trying to present his case to the Headmaster would likely be-- how unlikely that would be to work atop how naïve he has to be to assume that it would fix anything. His mouth twists at the anxiety springing to life on Ihsan's face and he regrets taking photos as he cycles through and deletes them, showing the younger man the screen of his mobile a few seconds later as he shakes his head.
"I'm... I apologize," George says softly, his brow furrowing. "It's not my decision what ought to be done here and I shouldn't have assumed that--" He pauses again, shaking his head as he tucks his phone into his pocket. "I shouldn't have assumed that my solutions would be anything more than... fanciful hope that something would be fair for once."
When he pauses again George takes a slow breath and reminds himself that it isn't Ihsan's fault he's blundered and even after hours he ought to behave just a bit like a professor, shouldn't he? "I respect your decision. I could walk you back to your dorm hall if... you would like not to be alone but that... might be as presumptuous as I've been so far and you're welcome to turn that down, as well. I get-- caught up in trying to help, I'm afraid. It's always been..." He stops, smiles wryly. "One of my more obnoxious qualities, or so I'm told."
Sinan ( Ihsan ) Demirci.
“Thank you..” he sighs in relief, seeing the confirmation on the other’s phone that he’d decided to delete the images. “It’s okay, I.. I actually really appreciate your fanciful hope,” he echo’s the other’s choice of words that, under normal circumstances, he’d have found incredibly sweet. “I just.. can’t afford it, myself.” He knew now that the other man genuinely only wanted to help him, and Ihsan was disappointed in himself, in the academy, and his entire situation as a whole, that he couldn’t accept it.
The offer to walk him back to the dorm comes as a surprise, half expecting the other to leave him after he’d declined his assistance. For a moment, he thought to decline that as well, not wanting to trouble him any further and take him so far out of his way. But.. after his late run in with Sebastian last week, and the ever-present threat the note promised, well.. some company, especially the kind he offers, sounds really nice. “If you don’t mind the walk, I’d like that, actually.” Finally, he finds a smile of his own to share with the professor, “it’s a good quality to have, even if it does come off as a little obnoxious. I think if it were more common, maybe things would be different here.”
Finally, Ihsan’s able to toss the bag into the dumpster and he closes the lid on top of it. Come what may, at least it would all be gone come morning. He looks back over to Professor Elwyn, his shoulders lifting into the shrug of someone resigned to roll the dice, gesturing towards Hargrave House. As they start on their way there, his curiosity can't help but ask, “if.. this somehow comes back up around, or something.. Would it still be okay if I came to you?”
HEADCANONS FOR COMPLETION.
After George agrees not to go to the Headmaster about the apparent threat being lobbed at Ihsan, he walks the younger man back to his dorm and earnestly agrees to support Ihsan with anything he needs during his time at school and otherwise. George has a soft spot for all of the students he’s met during his time as a professor so it’s almost reflex to agree and he hopes he can help Ihsan with anything the other man might need during his tenure at the academy. The events of this thread mark the beginning of that relationship dynamic between them.