DARK CHEMISTRY
Lizzie Kim, a quiet, shy, introverted high school student, had always preferred the corners of classrooms where she could disappear into her notes and the gentle scratch of her pen against paper. Today was no different—her hands were slightly trembling as she scribbled the answers to the chemistry questions they'd just been taught. She could hear the faint murmur of her classmates packing up around her, the chairs scraping lightly against the floor as the bell rang.
"Lunchtime," Moana called cheerfully from the doorway, waving.
Lizzie looked up with a small, apologetic smile. "I… I have to finish this," she mumbled, keeping her voice low.
Moana pouted. "Again? You can't live on homework alone, Lizzie!"
Lizzie only nodded. Moana left, leaving the quiet hum of the nearly empty classroom. She sighed and bent over her notebook again, carefully balancing concentration with the gnawing emptiness in her stomach.
That's when she noticed him—Daniel Cegielski, the new chemistry teacher, standing beside her desk. His black clothes somehow seemed darker than the shadowed corner of the room, his sharp tattoos visible along the forearm that peeked from his sleeve. His hair fell just slightly over his piercing eyes, the kind of eyes that seemed to look straight through you, yet in a way that made her heartbeat stutter.
"Lizzie," he said, his voice low but carrying that familiar commanding presence. "Lunch. You should eat. You can do your homework at home."
Lizzie blinked up at him, caught off guard. Her hands froze above her notebook. "I… I don't… I didn't bring anything," she admitted softly, the words nearly lost in the hum of the fluorescent lights. "I didn't have time, and no one else… no one's home."
There was a pause, just long enough for Lizzie's stomach to ache with embarrassment. She looked down, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, hoping he wouldn't notice how flushed her cheeks had gotten.
Then, to her surprise, Daniel crouched slightly to meet her gaze, and there was a softness there she hadn't expected.
"I… forgot my lunch too," he said casually, though she could hear the subtle edge of concern in his voice. He reached into the pocket of his black jeans and pulled out a small, neatly packed pack of Oreos.
Lizzie's eyes widened. "You… brought Oreos to school?"
"Sometimes," he replied with a smirk that was both teasing and intimate, like a secret only she was allowed to know. He handed her the pack. "Here. Share it with me."
Lizzie hesitated for a moment, then took one, her fingers brushing his briefly. Sparks, she was sure, tingled along her skin, and she quickly looked down, cheeks burning.
They sat there together, sharing a quiet lunch in the empty classroom. No one else around, no distractions. Just Lizzie, fumbling with her words, and Daniel, watching her with those impossible eyes that seemed to see all her secrets and her little awkward heartbeats.
"So… you always eat alone?" he asked after a while, his voice softer this time.
Lizzie shrugged, a small shrug that carried the weight of years of solitude. "I… usually just eat at my desk. It's… easier."
He nodded once, as if he understood exactly what that meant. "Not for long," he murmured, almost to himself, and there was a strange, possessive edge in the tone, though Lizzie wasn't entirely sure if it was meant for her ears or just for him.
For a few stolen minutes, the two of them sat quietly. She nibbled on her Oreos, occasionally stealing a glance at him, and he watched her in return, leaning casually against the desk, a silent guardian in black.
It was just a simple act—sharing a pack of cookies—but for Lizzie, it felt like the start of something monumental, something she couldn't yet name. A secret shared, a bond forming quietly in the silence of a classroom where the world seemed far away.
And for Daniel, the sight of her fragile, intelligent hands working so earnestly—even while hungry—made his chest tighten in a way that was new, confusing, and strangely thrilling. He didn't realize it yet, but this little introverted girl was slowly becoming the center of a storm he had never expected.
This was just the beginning of their dark chemistry —one cookie at a time.
The next day, the classroom buzzed with low chatter as Daniel wrote on the blackboard:
"Today we'll discuss the spdf rule and electron configurations."
For most of the students, the concepts clicked immediately—the shapes, the orbitals, the order of filling—but for Lizzie, it was like staring at a foreign language written in flames. Her notebook was covered in scribbles, numbers, and half-erased formulas. No matter how many times she tried, the pattern refused to make sense.
She bit her lower lip, frustration bubbling inside her. Around her, the bell rang for lunch, signaling a break for everyone else. The classroom emptied slowly—Moana waved at her from the door, dragging half a dozen friends with her—but Lizzie stayed, pencil tapping nervously against her notebook.
"You shouldn't be here," a voice said softly behind her.
Lizzie looked up. Daniel was standing there, his presence as commanding as ever, yet today there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes. He slid a chair beside her and sat down, crossing his long legs casually.
"Still struggling?" he asked, glancing at her messy notes.
Lizzie swallowed hard. "I… I don't… understand it," she admitted, the words coming out almost as a whisper. Her heart beat faster, worried he might scold her.
Daniel's gaze softened immediately as he noticed the fear in her eyes. He leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping so only she could hear. "Hey… don't be scared. You're not in trouble."
She blinked at him, surprised. The tension in her shoulders eased just a little, though her cheeks still burned.
He picked up her notebook and scanned the messy lines. "Okay, let's do this together. Step by step."
He started explaining patiently, pointing at the orbitals, the numbers, the logic behind the spdf order. Lizzie's eyes followed every motion of his hand, her mind slowly piecing together the puzzle she had been struggling with. His voice was calm, yet firm, like he was guiding her gently through a storm.
Her pencil moved faster now, copying down the formulas as he spoke. Still, a tiny voice in her head whispered: What if I'm still wrong? What if he gets angry?
Daniel noticed it—the hesitation, the slight tremor in her hand. He reached over and brushed his fingers lightly against hers in a reassuring gesture. "Lizzie… seriously, don't call me 'sir' when it's just us. It… makes me feel old," he said, a rare, teasing smirk playing on his lips.
Lizzie froze. His words, casual yet intimate, sent a strange warmth rushing through her chest. She hadn't expected him to care about something so small, yet hearing it made her feel closer to him somehow.
"I… I'm sorry," she whispered, unsure if her voice was too loud.
"No need," he said softly. "Just call me Daniel. Only when it's just us, okay?"
Her heart skipped a beat. "O-okay," she stammered, barely able to meet his gaze.
For the next ten minutes, they worked side by side in quiet companionship. Sometimes their hands brushed accidentally over the notebook; sometimes he leaned just slightly closer to show her the correct notation. Each small gesture made her pulse race, but for the first time, Lizzie felt… safe struggling beside someone who wasn't there to judge her.
By the time the bell for the next class rang, Lizzie finally understood the spdf rule in a way that made sense. She looked up at Daniel, a shy smile tugging at her lips.
"Thank you," she whispered, almost afraid to say it too loudly.
Daniel's eyes softened, his usual smirk replaced by something warmer. "Anytime, Lizzie. Remember… don't be afraid to ask for help. Especially from me."
And just like that, a small, secret bridge was built between them—one filled with trust, quiet understanding, and the subtle thrill of something more, something unspoken that neither of them could yet name.
The Next Day
The classroom was unusually quiet that morning. Students whispered nervously to each other, flipping through their notes and exchanging worried glances. Daniel's sharp gaze swept over them all, calm yet intimidating.
"Today," he said, voice echoing slightly against the walls, "we'll have a surprise chemistry test. Remember… anyone scoring below 24 will face a punishment. Don't take this lightly."
A cold wave of panic hit Lizzie. Her hands shook slightly as she picked up the test sheet. A punishment? Her mind raced. She tried to focus, but the letters and numbers on the page seemed to blur together. She could feel the weight of everyone's expectation, the quiet pressure that made her chest tighten.
She scribbled her answers as fast as she could, heart hammering, eyes darting between the questions and the ticking clock. The seconds stretched unbearably, each tick a tiny hammer striking her nerves.
Finally, the test ended. Lizzie handed it over, her hands trembling slightly. She sank back in her chair, biting her lip as dread gnawed at her stomach.
Daniel collected the papers silently, his intense eyes scanning the room. Then he began calling out the scores, his tone even but piercing, as if he could read the very essence of each student's effort.
"25… 27… 30…"
Her heart raced faster. Please, not me… please…
"22."
Lizzie froze. The number rang in her ears like a bell of doom. Her stomach twisted. She had failed—just barely. Just enough to earn that dreaded punishment. She could feel the panic clawing at her chest, threatening to crush her.
Daniel's eyes, sharp as always, flicked toward her. He noticed immediately the fear in her gaze, the slight trembling of her hands. A part of him stiffened, the corner of his mouth tilting slightly—not in anger, but in… something else, something protective.
He walked over slowly, his long strides quiet but deliberate. "Lizzie," he said, stopping right beside her desk. His shadow fell over her notebook, over the test paper, over her tiny panic.
She looked up at him, eyes wide and glossy, a small whimper escaping her lips. "I… I'm sorry… I tried…"
He crouched slightly to meet her at eye level. His usual intense gaze softened just for her, but it still carried that undeniable power that made her chest tighten. "Hey… don't apologize. You did your best, and that's what matters," he murmured, voice low enough that no one else could hear.
Her fear didn't disappear entirely—after all, punishment still loomed—but it was replaced by something strange and confusing. She felt… seen. Protected.
Daniel reached over and brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead. "Don't be scared, Lizzie. I'll make sure the punishment… isn't too bad."
Lizzie blinked, her voice barely above a whisper. "R-really?"
He gave a small, secretive smirk. "Really. But… next time, don't be afraid to ask me for help before the test. Understood?"
She nodded quickly, cheeks burning. "O-okay…"
For the first time that day, she felt a strange warmth in her chest. Fear had been replaced, if only slightly, by trust… and something else she didn't yet have the words for. A tiny secret bond was forming, fragile yet undeniable.
And Daniel, watching her struggle and falter yet still push forward, felt something stir deep in him—a possessive, protective instinct he hadn't anticipated. This small, quiet girl… she was slowly becoming impossible to ignore.