Work Text:
The bell rang with its usual shrill, cutting through the low hum of the school’s end-of-day chaos. Nicole stood up from her seat, stuffing her notebook into her bag as she made her way to the door, her mind already a million miles away. She didn’t need to deal with the noise, the expectations, the fake small talk. She needed a smoke.
Outside, the air was colder than usual, the gray skies pressing down, making everything feel heavier. She walked quickly to her usual spot, near the back of the school building, far enough away from the crowds and the teachers that she wouldn’t be bothered. It was her place, the one spot where no one had any expectations of her. It was just Nicole and her cigarette.
She pulled a pack from her bag, popped one out, and lit it with a flick of her lighter. The first drag hit her lungs, sharp and familiar, washing away the noise in her head. She exhaled slowly, her eyes half-lidded as the world around her started to fade away.
But, of course, peace never lasted long when it came to Mr. Counselor. He’d been hovering around the school for the last few years, always trying too hard to be the "cool" teacher who understood the students’ pain. At 35, he was still trying to be the kind of guy who had it all figured out, who could crack a joke and earn some respect from the kids. His leather jacket and attempts to appear laid-back were the epitome of cringy.
She saw him before he saw her—coming around the corner with that stupid grin on his face. She didn’t even bother to hide her irritation.
“Hey, Nicole,” Mr. Counselor called, his voice a little too cheery for someone who was supposed to be in the know. “You ever try one of these?”
He held out a cigarillo, the thin stick of tobacco almost comically unremarkable. As if that was somehow going to impress her.
Nicole didn’t even look at him directly. She took another slow drag from her cigarette, savoring the taste of smoke and the fleeting calm. She exhaled slowly, the cloud of smoke parting just enough for her to speak.
“Are you serious?” she muttered, keeping her voice deadpan as she glanced up at him. “You really think I’m gonna take that from you?”
Mr. Counselor didn’t immediately back off. He seemed to mistake her disinterest for uncertainty. “Come on, Nicole,” he said, clearly trying to maintain the “cool” factor in front of her. “It’s just a cigarillo. It’s not like I’m asking you to smoke a joint or something. I know things get stressful. Everyone has their way of coping, right?”
Nicole couldn’t help but let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Coping? You’re trying to hand me a goddamn cigarillo like I’m some desperate little girl who doesn’t know better. You really think that’s how this works?”
He blinked, clearly taken aback, but he didn’t back down. “I’m just offering a little… solidarity, y’know? I’m not trying to lecture you, Nicole. Just think it might help you chill out a bit.”
“Chill out?” Nicole repeated, her voice suddenly cold and cutting. “You don’t know a damn thing about me. You don’t know what’s going on in my head, and you sure as hell don’t know how to help. So stop trying to act like you get it.” She dragged from her cigarette again, looking at him with a mixture of contempt and boredom. “You’re not some kind of hero here, you know.”
The words stung, but Mr. Counselor didn’t seem to understand the level of shutdown he’d just received. He shrugged, trying to recover. “Alright, alright, no need to get all defensive. I just thought maybe you’d appreciate the gesture. You’ve got that whole ‘too cool for everyone’ vibe, but we all know that’s just a mask, right?”
Nicole’s lip curled into a smirk that didn’t even reach her eyes. “What? You think I’m pretending to be some hard-ass to keep people away?” She flicked her cigarette and let it fall to the ground, grinding it out under her heel. “News flash: I am a hard-ass. And I don’t need your stupid little gestures. Not from you, not from anyone.”
She could see the way Mr. Counselor’s face faltered. He had no idea how to handle her. Most of the time, he could get away with his attempts at connecting with students. Hell, half the time, they probably appreciated the effort. But with Nicole? She wasn’t interested in being “handled.”
“You really are something else,” he said, a little bitter now. “You’re tough, I’ll give you that. But don’t act like I’m the problem here. I’m just trying to help. You can’t shut everyone out, you know.”
Nicole turned to face him fully now, her eyes colder than before, sharper. “I don’t need help, Mr. Counselor. Not from a dude who thinks handing out cigars is the way to ‘relate’ to me. Maybe you should spend more time working on your own shit instead of thinking you can fix everyone else.”
For a second, there was an uncomfortable silence. Mr. Counselor looked like he was searching for something to say, but nothing came. His mouth opened and closed, trying to find a response that would salvage the situation. But Nicole didn’t care. She wasn’t there for his approval. She was there for the one thing she could rely on—her own peace of mind.
“You know what?” she said, her voice sharp as a knife. “Just keep your distance. You’ve already crossed the line. Don’t come back here trying to play friend.”
The finality in her voice made him flinch. He stood there for a moment, looking like an idiot who’d just been put in his place, then finally muttered, “Alright, I get it. I’ll leave you alone.”
“Good,” she snapped back without missing a beat. She turned on her heel, walking away without a second glance, leaving Mr. Counselor standing there, his offer hanging uselessly in the air.
Nicole didn’t look back. She didn’t care if he was embarrassed or confused. She didn’t need to explain herself to anyone. All she needed was her own space, and that was exactly what she was going to get.