"You? Drinking an energy drink?" Artem asks in genuine surprise as Sheps gets out of the car with a tin can in his hands.
Since their first year, Krasnov remembers that Oleg only acknowledges coffee as a stimulant, so he looks at his friend with genuine interest now, waiting for an answer.
"I already had coffee today," Sheps waves him off wearily, pulling cigarettes from his pocket.
After Cherevaty's stunt yesterday, he managed to fall asleep toward morning, and his restless imagination took away the last chance to get some sleep, turning his dreams into straight-up porn.
Oleg doesn't understand how Vlad managed to flip his game in a single moment. Cherevaty asks precise questions that hit the bullseye, and his provocations are no longer accidental—they force Sheps to react. It's much more interesting this way, of course, but Oleg desperately wants to regain the lead in this standoff, and he hopes that the upcoming lecture will give him at least some small detail to latch onto, because he is simply incapable of planning anything global in this state.
"Did I lose our bet already?" Artem asks unexpectedly, interrupting his story about last night's party.
Sheps frowns in confusion and turns around, noticing that Krasnov, with a raised eyebrow, is looking somewhere behind him. Vlad is approaching the faculty building at a brisk pace, taking several large gulps from a branded coffee cup on the go.
"Did you two stay up all night together or something?" Artem chuckles, looking the professor over carefully.
Cherevaty looks gloomy, without his usual pep that always annoys students during the hated first period, and for some reason, Krasnov finds this coincidence amusing. Although he is absolutely sure the bet isn't over yet: Oleg would never miss an opportunity to brag about his victory.
"Good morning, Vladislav Vitalievich!"
Cherevaty stops on the steps, turning toward the guys. Sheps's voice sounds slightly sarcastic, and his eyes hold a faint mockery, and the professor immediately realizes that his sleepless night did not go unnoticed. However, Oleg doesn't look any better. Vlad scans the student standing before him, noting small dark circles under his eyes, and rests his gaze on the energy drink in the other man's hands.
"Morning," he nods briefly, smirking slightly. "Good solution to keep from falling asleep during the lecture."
Sheps squeezes the can a little harder in his palm and is surprised by this subtle mockery, thinking that Cherevaty's behavior yesterday seems to have been just the beginning.
"I definitely won't fall asleep in yours," Oleg returns the smirk.
"It's nice that you're so interested in my subject," Vlad answers with a calm smile.
He looks into the light eyes for a few seconds, but Sheps can't find the words to continue the conversation in front of Artem, and the professor disappears behind the door with satisfaction, heading off to prepare for the class.
"Yeah, the subject," Krasnov bursts out laughing. "Does he really think you go to his classes to listen to statistics? You're losing your grip, Oleg! I thought subtle hints weren't your style."
He claps his friend on the shoulder, while the other just chuckles, tossing away the burnt-out cigarette.
"Everyone needs a different approach," Sheps answers thoughtfully. "But that's not your concern. Let's bounce, or we'll be late."
He finishes the energy drink, getting rid of the empty can, and already on the way to the auditorium, lights up with a new idea, hoping that the lecture will present an opportunity to bring it to life.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
Vlad enters the class already composed. He greets the students briefly, throwing a fleeting glance at Oleg, and starts delivering the prepared material in a level voice.
After yesterday's events, Cherevaty caught himself thinking that their interaction has shifted to a realm that is too personal, and the fear that Sheps would humiliate him publicly has disappeared completely. Vlad is convinced for some reason that Oleg finds it much more interesting to play by new rules rather than trying to undermine his authority as it was in the beginning.
It simultaneously adds confidence to the teacher in the atmosphere of still unfamiliar classes and continues to scare him more every day. Vlad finally feels on equal footing in this game, but he is afraid to imagine how it will end. And Cherevaty doesn't believe for a second that their provocations won't lead to anything. And he knows Sheps doesn't believe it either.
Vlad draws a table on the board with a large set of formulas, explaining each one as he goes, then sits at his desk, giving the students time to copy all the notes into their notebooks. Silence falls over the auditorium, and Oleg seizes the moment, putting down his pen and taking his phone out of his pocket.
Oleg Sheps
How did you sleep after boxing?
Cherevaty looks up from his teaching guide, feeling the vibration of the phone, and barely keeps a straight face as he reads the notification on the screen. He shoots an unreadable look at the slightly smirking Sheps and swallows nervously, feeling adrenaline starting to spread slowly through his veins.
Vladik
Just like after any workout—great.
Vlad is perfectly aware of what he's doing. He is sitting at the professor's desk in front of a huge audience of unsuspecting students and engaging in a completely unethical text exchange with one of them. But for some reason, he doesn't want to stop.
Vladik
And how was your drive home?
Oleg raises his eyebrows in surprise and looks up from the screen, meeting the sly look of dark eyes. He definitely didn't expect such initiative from Cherevaty. Vlad looks at him expectantly and seems to be making no effort to hide the subtext in his question.
Oleg Sheps
I'm always comfortable in my car.
The professor shoots another fleeting glance at him and even starts getting angry at himself for waiting with impatient anticipation for the next message, which—he sees—Sheps is already typing.
Oleg Sheps
And not just for driving ;)
Cherevaty shows zero emotion on his face after reading, and Oleg purses his lips in disappointment, thinking the provocation failed. But Vlad tenses up instantly, trying with all his might not to show on the outside what is going on in his head.
A vivid picture immediately paints itself before his eyes—of what would have undoubtedly happened yesterday if he had had even a drop less self-control. Cherevaty presses his hands against his knees under the desk, but literally feels the soft leather of the reclined seat under his palms. He breathes raggedly, his eyes digging into the teaching guide, and desperately tries not to imagine the pliant body beneath him, trembling at every movement.
His cheeks start burning, and Vlad sincerely hopes it isn't visible from the outside. He lifts his head, trying to distract himself from his fantasies, and scans the auditorium, almost forcing himself not to look at Sheps, but he can't help himself anyway.
Light eyes stare at him unblinkingly and do nothing to help the situation. Oleg sits lounging back in his chair, and with a sly squint, bites lightly on the tip of the pen he's holding.
He waits for at least some visible reaction to his suggestive message, but he himself can't help remembering what he did in the car yesterday after Cherevaty left. It seems to Sheps that he is driving himself into a corner, and he wants to see with his own eyes that Vlad feels the same way.
"What's that letter in the last formula?" Artem whispers, frowning, and peeks into his notebook, his eyes landing on a blank page. "Fuck! You didn't write anything?"
Oleg reluctantly tears his eyes away from Cherevaty and turns to his friend:
"I'll copy off you later," he smiles calmly.
"You're such a pain in the ass..." Krasnov rolls his eyes with a sigh and tries to make out the necessary symbol on the board again, paying no attention to Sheps, who is focusing again.
Oleg bites his lip impatiently, glancing at the professor, and realizes he won't get an answer. He twirls the pen in his hands, trying to come up with something else before the lecture continues, and latches onto the way Vlad glances at his wristwatch.
Fingers quickly undo the cufflink, Sheps rolls up the cuff of his shirt on the left sleeve, and reaches for his phone again.
Oleg Sheps
How long until the end of class? I don't have a watch...
Cherevaty raises his eyebrows, not understanding the point of the message, but doesn't even have time to look at Oleg before he receives a photo taken just moments ago.
A hand with a bare wrist rests on black jeans, gripping the thigh quite close to the fly, and Vlad involuntarily fixates on the tense fingers, taking a deep breath.
And Sheps breaks into a satisfied smirk, watching the professor not rushing to look away from the screen, even though he isn't even trying to type a reply. He is sure Cherevaty is still looking at the photo, and suddenly looks away, scanning his classmates. The students sit buried in their notebooks, concentrating on copying the formulas written on the board onto their sheets, and Oleg is hit by a wave of wild euphoria from realizing the situation.
None of them, not even Artem, has a clue that in this very auditorium, sitting at his desk, their strict and principled professor is openly staring at a not-so-decent photo of his student right now and thinking about anything but Statistics. Sheps doesn't know why it feels so cool, but for some reason, he is sure that this is exactly what is turning both Vlad and himself on the most right now.
Animation gradually returns to the auditorium, and Cherevaty hastily puts his phone into his jacket pocket, continuing the lecture somewhat disjointedly. He tries not to look at Oleg even during the roll call, aiming to calm down completely by the end of the period, and decisively asks him to stay behind as the stream of students slowly heads for the exit after the bell.
Sheps slows down at the teacher's desk, glancing impatiently at his departing classmates, and a minute later mentally thanks Artem, who, leaving last, prudently closes the door behind him.
"Show me your notebook," Vlad begins in a stern voice, looking up at him and resting his elbows on the desk.
"Are we back to formal terms?" Oleg arches a brow but hands his notebook to the professor anyway.
Cherevaty flips through the pages, ignoring his question, and notices that Sheps diligently wrote down only what came before that very table with formulas.
"The lecture isn't all here," Vlad says, looking at the student again. "Why didn't you write down the rest?"
"Sorry," Oleg chuckles. "I got distracted."
He watches with anticipation as Cherevaty stands up from the desk and slowly walks toward him.
"Distracted... or carried away?" Vlad asks more quietly, taking the final step forward.
They are standing flush against each other, and Sheps's breathing hitches instantly from such proximity. He looks away for a second, escaping the direct gaze, and makes a desperate attempt to provoke in return.
"And what's your answer to that question?" Oleg asks barely audibly, hoping this will somehow throw Cherevaty off balance.
"Here, I am the professor," Vlad parries calmly, lowering his voice. "And I ask the questions."
Oleg swallows nervously, feeling that commanding tone ignite him from the inside like a match, and doesn't understand how Cherevaty manages to look so calm. His own shirt seems too thin because the buttons of the other man's jacket literally dig into the skin of his stomach, and Sheps is afraid to even move, waiting to see how long they both will last.
"I expect a complete record of the lecture in this notebook by the next class," the professor says in the same tone.
He continues to look with an almost mesmerizing gaze, not moving away a single centimeter, and seems to finally understand why Oleg likes their game so much. Sheps's weakness spreads pleasantly through his veins, and Vlad's lips spread into a predatory smirk of their own accord as he opens the bag hanging on Oleg's shoulder with his own hands and puts the notebook back.
"And I advise you to write everything down right away from now on," he adds quietly.
"Or what?.." Oleg asks with a challenge, but against the backdrop of the unflappable Cherevaty, he doesn't look confident at all.
Vlad leans even closer to his face, his gaze sliding down to his lips, and spends his last reserves of strength not to snap and ruin his perfect move.
"Or I'll punish you," he whispers, and a second later returns to his desk, starting to gather the things laid out at the beginning of the lecture. "Dismissed."
The last word sounds louder, in an absolutely level voice, and Sheps unfreezes, breaking into nervous laughter from the tension. He walks quickly into the corridor, admitting he lost this round again, but stops at the door anyway.
"I want a rematch," he declares unexpectedly, forcing Cherevaty to turn around in surprise. "In the gym after classes."
Vlad chuckles at this self-assurance but doesn't have time to answer: Oleg looks at him with irritation for a few seconds and then simply leaves, not waiting for a reply.
They both know Cherevaty will come.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
Tyomych
Have you lost your fucking mind? Vika will kill you.
Oleg tosses his phone onto the passenger seat and leans his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes wearily. He has no intention of returning to classes today, so he just sits in his car, a couple of blocks away from the faculty building. And Raidos's lecture, from which Artem is texting him right now, is definitely the last thing on his mind.
Sheps is still shaking after Vlad's stunt, even an hour later. He turns the music up louder, trying to drown out his own thoughts, but there is nothing in his head except that low voice and the commanding gaze of dark eyes, which effortlessly seized the control he needs so badly in a single second.
Oleg hates losing and doesn't want to give up, but he has absolutely no idea what to do. Manipulating others is a familiar and easy task for him, but handling himself, as it turns out, is something Sheps doesn't know how to do at all.
He feels helpless, impossibly angry, and tries desperately to find at least some move that Cherevaty wouldn't be able to counter. But it seems that in the last few days, there are hardly any pieces left on his side of the board, and Oleg never knew how to win with just pawns.
He never thought he would run into a person like this. Vlad doesn't retreat a single step from his principles, balancing on the most dangerous edge, yet he shreds every one of Sheps's provocations to pieces, and Oleg realizes he angered him himself. He underestimated his opponent, initially considering him easy prey, and now he keeps falling into his own traps time after time.
Sheps is in almost physical pain from the wild arousal Cherevaty drives him to without a twinge of conscience. He never considered himself sex-crazed and usually handled such situations relatively calmly, but right now he is literally going crazy from his own fantasies, which he can't override with anything. And Vlad's behavior aggravates the situation, adding moral chaos from unpredictable and unfamiliar moves to Oleg's physiological problems.
Sheps glances at his watch, waiting for the end of classes with a sense of doom, and wants to hope that he can put everything back in its place. But Cherevaty's casual smirk, still standing before his eyes, doesn't add much faith that Oleg will manage to get his revenge. Today—unlikely.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
Vlad doesn't know by what miracle he held back, trying to get back at Sheps for that damn text exchange that threw him completely off balance. Ilya's advice works, indeed bringing him colossal moral satisfaction, but Cherevaty has absolutely no understanding of what to do with the unrelenting desire to take Oleg right there on the nearest surface whenever they meet.
Sheps is becoming some kind of sick obsession, occupying all his thoughts, and Vlad is simply terrified that as soon as they get too close, he'll want to just quit his job—to get rid of the only barrier in his own head preventing him from doing what they both want insanely.
Larionov said he would feel strong as soon as he could corner Oleg at least for a short while, but so far, it seems to Cherevaty that he has never been as weak as he is now.
Vlad spends the rest of the lectures sitting at his desk. He simply reads the necessary material from printed sheets, not even trying to deliver what is stored somewhere in his head. Fortunately, almost no questions are asked on the topics, and Cherevaty doesn't even want to think about why. Either he prepared the lectures brilliantly, or he looks so lost that the students simply don't dare disturb the professor after his first incoherent answer.
Vlad survives on autopilot until the end of classes and heads decisively to the staff room for his gym clothes. He texted Levin immediately after the first period, and Maxim reacted surprisingly calmly to the request to repeat yesterday's sparring. Cherevaty doesn't know how Maxim sees this situation, but he simply cannot afford to lose this round. And if Sheps wants a rematch, Vlad has no intention of refusing.
He turns the corner of the empty corridor and stops abruptly, instinctively hiding behind the wall.
"Oleg!" Raidos catches up with the student decisively, forcing him to turn around.
"I'm in a rush," Sheps throws out briefly.
"Too bad, you'll wait."
Oleg turns around, pursing his lips angrily. Vika's lectures were the last thing he needed today.
"I believe we had an agreement that you would attend my classes." Raidos tries to speak sternly, but struggles to withstand the glare flaring with hatred.
"I was busy," Sheps snaps, intending to leave, but Victoria catches him by the arm.
"You are a student, and all your business is here, at the faculty."
"Fuck off," Oleg grates out through clenched teeth, tearing himself free from her firm grip. "I'll go where I want. And your lectures are the last place I want to be."
Cherevaty frowns, listening in on the conversation, and instinctively clenches his fists, amazed at Sheps's boorish attitude.
"By the way," Oleg continues with a nasty sneer, "you can call your Sasha right now and complain that I'm hurting your feelings again. I don't give a flying fuck about his threats."
"I am not complaining!" Raidos snaps, raising her voice slightly.
"Yeah, right, of course," Sheps laughs, reveling in her instant reaction. "He's a psychic, isn't he? Guesses everything himself. And you're just so innocent and pure. I'm just wondering, do your wings get in the way when you're paying him back for every visit he makes to me?"
Vlad flinches at the sound of a slap and peeks carefully around the corner, then immediately breaks into a run, seeing Oleg grab Victoria roughly by the forearm.
He rushes toward them, pushing Sheps away sharply, and looks at Raidos with concern:
"Are you alright?"
"Yes..." she answers barely audibly, lowering her eyes in shame. "Thank you."
Victoria walks away swiftly, rubbing her arm slightly, and Cherevaty thinks for just a second before slamming Oleg into the wall, pressing his forearm against his throat.
"Who gave you the right to treat a woman like that?" he spits out furiously.
"And who gave you the right to butt into my life?" Sheps answers, matching his tone. "I already told you it's personal, and..."
"Keep your personal life to yourself!" Vlad interrupts, raising his voice, and holds back with all his might not to punch him. "There is no reason to act like..."
"What do you know anyway???"
Oleg explodes with anger, shoving Cherevaty away with force. He is angry at damn Raidos for making him lose control again; at himself for still not learning how to react calmly to this family after all these years; at Vlad for becoming an unwitting witness to this scene; but most of all because he realizes Cherevaty is right, but he can no longer stop himself.
"What do you know about me? Or about what she did, or, on the contrary, didn't do? Do you know anything at all about what I went through?!"
Vlad is taken aback by this almost hysterical monologue. Frowning, he looks at Sheps and realizes that one of them—Victoria or he himself—definitely pushed the guy to a boiling point, but he doesn't understand the initial reason. Cherevaty is still angry about what he saw a few minutes ago, but Oleg looks so real for the first time and like broken somewhere deep inside, that Vlad gets completely confused about what exactly is making his pulse hammer at his temples.
"Or do you think just because I have money, I don't have problems?" Sheps continues, giving up and letting go. "What do you know besides your Statistics? Playing the man of principle? Doesn't take money, stands up for women—not a professor, but a dream!"
Oleg doesn't think about what he is saying, moving onto a sore subject almost unconsciously, stirring up rage inside Cherevaty in a new wave, and he can already feel how this conversation is going to end.
"Shut up," Vlad grates out coldly, his gaze changing, and decides that turning around and walking away is the safest option, but Sheps grabs him by the front of his shirt, yanking him closer.
"Where were all your principles when you were pinning me in the car?" Oleg asks more quietly, feeling all emotions inside instantly replaced by only one desire. "Or when you didn't look away for a second while I was stripping for you at the bar? Maybe stop torturing yourself? Just admit you're no saint either."
"Right now, I'm only tortured by the fact that I can't allow myself to punch a student."
Cherevaty answers through clenched teeth and doesn't understand where that wounded boy who was standing before him just a few seconds ago has gone. The pain in the light eyes was abruptly replaced by a bright fire, like setting Sheps ablaze from the inside, and Vlad has no idea what to expect from this person next. And he also has no idea what to expect from himself, because Oleg is manipulating again, hitting the bullseye with every word, mixing anger with rising arousal inside Cherevaty, and clearly isn't going to stop.
"Go ahead and try," Sheps gets out exhaustedly. "Maybe I'll like it."
He exhales somewhat resignedly, almost shrinking from the tearing emotions, and simply finds no other way out. He can't cope. He doesn't know where to put himself and clings to the only place he can pour all this out—Vlad. Oleg hopes a blow will follow immediately, which might bring him back to his senses at least a little, and simply smashes his lips against Cherevaty's in a kiss.
But Vlad responds. Thinking about how he wants to whip Sheps with his own belt, he bites his lips hard, his fingers digging into his hair.
Oleg's shoulder blades slam into the wall as Cherevaty, not breaking the kiss, pushes him, pressing his body into the cold concrete, but Sheps no longer gives a damn about the whitewash staining his black shirt. Nor does he give a damn about what he wanted a second ago.
And Vlad doesn't understand what he's doing. He instantly shuts off his brain to forget about his principles, which Oleg just mocked, and simply kisses the one he has wanted for so long. And how he has wanted to: greedily, dirty, deep, almost choking from lack of air, but without a single chance to stop this madness they've both been waiting for.
He feels Sheps let go of his jacket, clinging to his neck with his hands, and presses himself closer. And to Oleg, it seems this game was worth everything, because he can't remember the last time in his life he felt this much. He is torn apart by anger, by the frustration that this time he submitted first, by arousal and euphoria, which Cherevaty increases with every movement of his lips, and by something else Sheps is simply unable to decipher. But he likes this "something" most of all, and it desperately forces him to kiss Vlad again and again.
Cherevaty runs his hands over the Oleg's body, mentally cursing the fabric in the way, and he simply melts from the sensations. Oleg's skin is hot; it can be felt even through the shirt, and Vlad feels hot either from that or from the fact that Sheps seems completely different right now. He isn't fighting, isn't making snide remarks, reveling in his victory, isn't trying to seize control, but simply yields to Cherevaty's every action, like saving himself from something Vlad doesn't know about—just as he doesn't know why he suddenly wants to understand it very much.
The sound of a notification bursts into his consciousness, and Cherevaty pulls away like in a fog, taking his phone out of his pocket. He looks at the frozen Oleg, his gaze latching onto the swollen lips, and doesn't fully realize where he is. The irises of Sheps's eyes are almost invisible due to arousal, and Vlad struggles to distract himself, trying to focus on the screen.
Levin
Where did you guys get stuck?
He rereads the sender's name several times, looks around sharply, finally realizing that he is still standing in the middle of the faculty corridor, and slowly takes a step back, gripping the phone harder in his hand. Almost uncontrollable panic rises inside when Cherevaty finally realizes what just happened. He casts a terrified look at Oleg, and a moment later simply flees, while Sheps closes his eyes, trying to catch his breath and come to his senses.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
Vlad bursts into the nearest restroom, locking the door behind him, and leans his hands on the sink, looking into the mirror with fear. A stranger looks back at him from the reflection with wild eyes. Someone who has definitely lost his mind. Someone who, just moments ago, right in the middle of the university, was kissing his student with incredible pleasure, crossing the final line. Someone who liked it to the point of impossibility. Looking back at Cherevaty from the mirror is the person he feared becoming the most.
Sheps was right about everything: Vlad really turned out to be a professor in name only. His hands jerk the tap handle angrily, turning on the water, and Cherevaty gathers it in trembling palms to cool his burning face at least a little. He splashes cold water again and again, like trying to wash his own deed off himself, but realizes he is to blame for everything. He fell for the provocations himself, decided to play this game himself, perfectly aware of where it would lead, and didn't want to stop at the most crucial moment himself.
Vlad flinches as the door flies open and feels a new attack of panic, looking at a frowning Levin.
"There you are..." Maxim looks him over, noting his disheveled appearance. "And where is Sheps?"
Cherevaty jerks noticeably at the sound of the surname, manages to turn off the tap only on the second try, missing the handle at first, and rushes toward the exit in a jagged motion, his eyes darting across the floor.
"What's wrong with you?" Levin catches him by the shoulders, not letting him leave.
"There won't be any training," Vlad squeezes out somehow. "I'm sorry."
He tries to pass again, but Maxim holds him firmly and tries to look into his eyes.
"I got that part," the PE teacher answers gently. "I'm asking, what is wrong with you? Can I help?"
"No, thanks." Cherevaty turns away, hiding his face in shame. "I need to go home."
"Are you sure?.."
Levin's question sounds solicitous, and that makes Vlad feel worse: he believes he doesn't deserve it.
But Maxim asks sincerely. He sees the guy is in a state of complete disarray and is simply afraid to let him go anywhere alone. Levin doesn't know what happened, but he clearly understands it's something serious. At least for Cherevaty.
The guy stands silently, breathing heavily, and seems unable to even break free from the firm grip anymore, having lost his last reserves of strength.
"Vlad, listen..." Maxim wants to find the right words but cuts himself off when he is interrupted by an almost colorless whisper.
"Max, please let me go..."
Levin loosens his grip out of surprise and takes a step to the side, watching the retreating figure with an astonished gaze. If Cherevaty switched to the informal "you" with him at a moment like this, fulfilling his request was something Maxim simply couldn't refuse.
The PE teacher walks out of the faculty building about ten minutes later, and his gaze catches Sheps smoking near the steps. The student looks crushed, taking drags one after another, and Levin approaches him with interest.
"No boxing today," Maxim says in a casual tone.
"What?.." Oleg doesn't immediately pay attention to the professor who approached him.
"I said, there won't be any boxing," Levin repeats. "Vladislav Vitalievich had to leave urgently."
"Ah... Okay..." Sheps nods confusedly, throwing away the cigarette butt. "Another time, then."
He heads toward his car without even saying goodbye, and Maxim sighs heavily, watching the car peel out of the parking lot sharply. He definitely doesn't believe in coincidences like that.
Vlad walks all the way home from the faculty. He hoped the long walk would help him calm down and sort everything out in his head, but he enters the apartment in the exact same state, just literally collapsing from exhaustion.
His head is splitting, and his lips are burning either from the wind, which beat against his face in strong gusts the whole way, or from the damn kisses, the taste of which Cherevaty still feels.
His fist slams into the wall, knuckles flaring with sharp pain, but it doesn't help. Vlad strikes again and again, leaving reddish smears on the light wallpaper, but sees nothing before his eyes except an aroused Oleg, definitely ready to do whatever Cherevaty wants.
Vlad collapses onto the sofa without even undressing and closes his eyes in exhaustion. He doesn't know what to do next, but he clearly understands one thing: Cherevaty no longer has the right to call himself a professor. He falls asleep almost immediately, thinking that tomorrow he must put an end to this story.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
"Good morning, Sonya."
Vlad enters the dean's office half an hour before the first period and greets the girl sitting at the reception desk with restraint. The usually smiling Egorova looks tense, but the professor chalks it up to the early morning, brushing off a stupid premonition.
"Morning..." Sonya nods, slightly confused. "Vlad, Dean Basharov was already looking for you."
"What for?"
Cherevaty frowns suspiciously, but the girl just shrugs:
"Go on in."
Vlad swallows nervously, tightening his grip on his usual folder, and knocks quietly on the Dean's door. Inside the folder is his letter of resignation, and Cherevaty clearly realizes that he is walking through this door as a professor for the last time. A short "Come in!" is heard from the office, and Vlad turns the handle with a heavy sigh.
"Hello, Dean Basharov."
"Well, hello, Vladislav Vitalievich." Basharov looks at him intently, and Cherevaty feels somehow cold from that gaze. "I was just waiting for you."
"Has something happened?.."
Vlad asks quietly, expecting any answer but this one:
"Something has. Information reached me yesterday evening..." Marat cuts himself off, still scrutinizing the professor, takes a deep breath, and continues: "Vladislav Vitalievich, you are being accused of sexually harassing students. Can you comment on this?"