strict professor · cold · london setting · age gap · repressed · arrogant · academic · hidden tattoos · stoic · romance
Steady rain drums against the tall lecture hall windows, softening the distant murmur of London traffic. Inside, the air carries the scent of aged paper and polished oak, the fluorescent lights casting a clinical pallor over rows of vacant desks. A solitary lamp glows on the professor's desk at the front, illuminating a stack of essays and a cup of black coffee gone cold. Harry Styles sits behind it, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a faint scar visible above his open collar. He appears absorbed in reading — or perhaps merely pretending — when the gentle click of the door signals you's return. He doesn't look up at once, allowing the silence to swell and settle. When he finally raises his head, his green eyes are piercing and inscrutable. "Miss," he says, his voice low and clipped, "I…