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MidReal Story
The Teacher I Secretly Love Is My Best Friend
Scenario:A 30-year-old Chinese chubby teacher named Frash. In Frash's class, a student named Ethan desperately wants Frash, but Frash is straight
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Frash Li
compassionate, and introspective. Frash is known for his stern demeanor but has a soft spot for his students. He struggles with his own feelings of loneliness and inadequacy, often reflecting on his past relationships and current isolation. Despite being unaware of Ethan's affections, he values Ethan's academic progress and treats him with kindness.
Ethan Chen
introspective, and persistent. Ethan harbors secret feelings for Frash, which he struggles to express openly due to fear of rejection or ridicule. Despite this, he remains deeply devoted to Frash and strives to impress him academically. His relationship with Frash is built on mutual respect and admiration, even if unrequited love remains a central theme.
Luo Jing
supportive, and humorous. Luo Jing often teases Frash about his lack of romantic life but remains genuinely concerned about his friend's wellbeing. He encourages Frash to explore dating apps and social events to find companionship. Despite their playful banter, Luo Jing provides emotional support to Frash during times of loneliness or selfdoubt.
I had been teaching for five years, and I was still single.
Not that I couldn't find a boyfriend or someone to accompany me.
It was just that all of them seemed so wrong to me.
Or maybe I was just too picky.
The classroom fell silent as the students took out their exercise notebooks and began to copy down the homework on the blackboard.
I walked around the classroom and reminded them, "Don't forget to bring your math homework tomorrow!"
"Okay, Teacher Frash!"
The students replied in unison.
Looking at their busy figures, I felt a sense of warmth.
Teaching might be a lonely career, but at least I wasn't lonely when I was with my students.
As long as I had them, I wouldn't be that lonely.
"Teacher Frash, why do you always have to be so strict?"
One of my students suddenly raised his hand.
It was Ethan Chen from the second row.
He was a shy and persistent student in my class.
He had been secretly in love with me for a long time.
At least, that was what you told me.
However, I had no idea about it at that time.
I paused in my pacing between the desks and turned to face Ethan directly.
His question was like a stone thrown into a pond, causing ripples.
The students looked up from their notebooks, waiting for my answer.
The afternoon sunlight shone through the windows of the classroom, casting long shadows on the wooden floor.
I adjusted my glasses and leaned against the nearest desk.
"Some people say I'm strict, but I think I'm just demanding. Strictness is a kind of love. Do you understand?"
I asked with a smile.
The students shifted in their seats, and the sound of papers rubbing against each other filled the classroom.
Ethan's fingers fidgeted with his pencil, but his eyes were still looking at me.
I leaned against the desk and watched him.
His expression was a little complicated, as if he was trying to understand the meaning behind my words.
The classroom buzzed with the usual afternoon sounds: papers shuffling, pencils scratching, and students chatting softly.
I walked closer to Ethan's desk and saw that his notebook was filled with neat and meticulous notes.
He had even copied down the examples from the blackboard in detail, including the mistakes I had made.
I pointed to his notebook and said, "You don't have to write down every single word I say. You're already very hardworking."
Ethan blushed slightly, but he still looked up at me.
His eyes were soft and gentle, like a spring breeze that brought warmth to my heart.
"Your dedication is admirable," I said sincerely.
The other students went back to their tasks, but Ethan's expression softened a little.
I glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that there were only five minutes left in class.
I continued walking between the rows of desks, checking on the students' work.
But my mind kept going back to Ethan's question earlier.
He was a hardworking student, and his notes showed that he had been paying close attention in class.
Maybe he needed more than just a simple answer from me.
As I approached Ethan's desk again, I noticed that his hands were trembling slightly as he wrote.
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows and cast long shadows across his notebook, making his handwriting look even more meticulous.
I made up my mind and leaned down beside his desk.
"Let's talk after class," I whispered, careful not to let the other students hear.
Ethan nodded, and for a moment, the classroom felt like it held a secret just between us.
The final bell rang, and the students filed out of the classroom.
Ethan was still seated at his desk, his notebook open in front of him.
I pulled up a chair beside his desk, maintaining a professional distance while trying to appear approachable.
The classroom was empty now, except for the two of us.
The afternoon sunlight cast long shadows across the floor, making the room feel quieter and more intimate.
Ethan's fingers were still trembling as he flipped through his notebook.
His notes were detailed and meticulous, with every single word copied down from my lectures.
I noticed that he had even recorded my casual remarks and asides, not just the main points of the lesson.
It was clear that he was a dedicated student who wanted to learn as much as possible.
I felt a surge of pride and affection for him, mixed with a sense of responsibility to mentor him properly. Ethan looked up from his notebook and met my gaze.
His eyes were soft and gentle, filled with nervousness and uncertainty.
I leaned forward slightly, trying to make myself appear less intimidating.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
I could see the struggle in his eyes, as if he was trying to find the right words to express himself.
I reached out and gently placed my hand on top of his, feeling his trembling fingers beneath mine.
His skin was warm and smooth, like silk.
I looked into his eyes and saw the fear and nervousness there, mixed with a hint of hope.
"Ethan, you can tell me anything," I said softly, trying to reassure him.
He took a deep breath and finally spoke, "I think... I think I'm afraid of disappointing you."
His words hung in the air, and I felt the weight of his confession settle between us.
I noticed that his shoulders tensed as I leaned closer, and his breath caught in his throat.
The empty classroom felt even smaller now, the shadows stretching across our desks like a physical manifestation of the emotions between us.
His notebook was still open in front of us, the pages filled with my words in his careful handwriting.
My hand remained on top of his, warm and steady against his cold skin.
When I saw tears forming in his eyes, I squeezed his hand gently, wanting to reassure him that everything would be okay.
The moment stretched out between us, heavy with unspoken emotions and the weight of his confession.
I leaned in closer, my voice filled with warmth and understanding.
"Ethan, it's okay to feel that way," I said gently.
He looked down, his voice barely above a whisper, "But what if I can't meet your expectations?"
I shook my head, offering him a reassuring smile, "All I expect is for you to do your best, and that's more than enough."
I remained seated beside him, our shoulders almost touching in the quiet classroom.
The pages of his notebook quivered under my hand, and I noticed that he had even annotated the margins with little stars where I had praised the class as a whole.
The setting sun cast a warm orange glow over his face, highlighting the moisture still clinging to his eyelashes.
His breathing quickened when I shifted closer, and the scent of chalk dust and paper filled my senses.
I watched as he struggled to regain his composure, his fingers twitching beneath mine.
I could feel his pulse racing through them, like a fragile lifeline connecting us.
Ethan finally met my gaze, his voice steadying as he spoke, "I just don't want to let you down."
I squeezed his hand again, feeling the sincerity in his words, "You could never let me down, Ethan."
He exhaled slowly, relief washing over his features, "Thank you... that means more than you know."
I noticed that his gaze drifted to my mouth as I spoke, and I felt a strange warmth spreading through me.
The classroom seemed even smaller now, the shadows of the afternoon sun casting us in an intimate glow.
His fingers still trembled beneath mine, but there was a newfound sense of calm in his eyes.
When I shifted my position to better face him, his breath caught again, and he leaned forward unconsciously.
I watched as he struggled to regain control, his shoulders tensing and relaxing once more.
The setting sun cast a golden light over his features, highlighting the slight tremor in his lips.
Something about this moment felt off-limits, and my instincts told me to pull back.
I gently released his hand, allowing the space between us to breathe again.
I pulled my hand away from his and stood up abruptly, needing to put some distance between us.
Before I could take a step back, a loud bang echoed through the room, making both of us jump.
The classroom door slammed shut with an unexpected force, and I noticed that the fluorescent lights above started flickering erratically.
The strange shadows cast across Ethan's face as he sat frozen at his desk, watching me approach the door.
I walked toward it, my shoes squeaking against the floor tiles.
When I reached for the handle and pulled, it didn't budge.
I stood there, my hand still gripping the cold metal, trying to make sense of what was happening.
Behind me, I heard Ethan's chair scrape against the floor as he got up and started walking towards me.
The sound of his footsteps echoed through the room, each click against the tile marking his steady approach.
The flickering lights cast alternating shadows across my hand on the door, making it seem as if it was moving by itself.
My heart raced as I felt him getting closer, but I didn't dare turn around yet.
When I finally did, Ethan was standing right behind me, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity I had never seen before.
His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, and he took another step forward.
"Mr. Li," he whispered urgently, his voice trembling with emotion.
I pressed my back against the door, watching as Ethan's form wavered in the flickering light.
His eyes darted to my midsection, lingering there before returning to mine.
The air in the classroom seemed to thicken, making it hard to breathe.
He took another step closer, his hand raised hesitantly in front of him.
His fingers stretched out, reaching for my stomach.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breathing became shallow and quick.
The fluorescent lights cast strange shadows across his face as he mumbled something about comfort and warmth.
My body tensed when his fingertips brushed against my shirt, just before they made contact with my skin.
I stared at his trembling hand hovering near my stomach, and suddenly everything became clear.
It was as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over me, snapping me out of the trance.
Memories flooded my mind - the touch of my ex-girlfriend's hand, the warmth of her body, the natural attractions I had always felt towards women.
I grabbed his wrist firmly before his fingers could make contact with my shirt.
The flickering lights cast harsh shadows on his face as I pushed his hand away.
My voice came out steady and firm.
"This isn't right, Ethan."
I straightened my back against the door, creating a clear physical boundary between us.
Ethan's eyes widened, and he stepped back, the tension in the room breaking like a snapped wire.
I released his wrist, and as I did, my hand brushed against the door.
My fingers were still pressed against the cold metal, but now they were also touching his.
The accidental contact sent a jolt of discomfort through me.
I quickly moved my hand away, but not before his fingertips grazed mine again.
In the flickering lights, I saw the rejection in his eyes fade, replaced by a glimmer of renewed hope.
His breathing quickened once more, and his body leaned in closer to mine.
My back pressed harder against the cold door, my fists clenched tightly against it.
Ethan misinterpreted my simple movement as an invitation, and his body language shifted from defeated to eager.
"Ethan, stop," I said firmly, trying to keep my voice steady.
His eyes searched mine, desperation etched into every line of his face.
"But I thought... I thought you felt it too," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the flickering lights.