Ardent Cure: Lennox and Mielo

FORGOTTEN TAGS: Rape (nonconsensual), Hetero (M/F) ​

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Chapter 1 -

1

How could he have possibly managed to be late on the first day? Mielo stood before a stout high-school, the brick-faced monster looming over him as though once he stepped inside its gaping mouth, he’d be digested and forced out the other end as nothing more than a tired piece of excrement. Then again, it wasn’t like he got a much different impression of his own house.

It was a big but hollow place, Mielo’s house, inhabited only by him, his father, and a cleaning lady that came on Tuesday afternoons. They’d owned the building all summer, but had only moved in the week before due to much business on the part of Mr. Herz Senior, much to the dismay of his son, for Mielo still couldn’t seem to recover from his jet lag. The fact that he’d been thrown around in the kitchen the night before school started didn’t help either. Mielo went to bed that night at 9PM, but wasn’t able to fall asleep until 3AM due to the throbbing pains in his joints and head.

He’d woken up peacefully, feeling lame and stiff but at least he wasn’t in pain. The sun was what made him stirr, its rays peering through the branches by Mielo’s window. He’d checked his alarm clock, initially wondering how early he’d awoken since he didn’t hear the machine go off, but sprang to life when he noticed that he’d slept in. It was about three hours past the time he should have risen to prepare himself for his first day. He was lucky he lived naught but a twenty minute walk from the school. But even then, he needed to make himself presentable as quickly as possible. His second class was ending, and he had no hope of catching his third class, and he’d made it to his fourth class with any bit of luck he had left in his life.

So now he was here, after fifty minutes of grooming, rushed breakfast, and getting lost on the walk there. The boy’s earthy green eyes darted up and down the vacant hallways as he stood in the center of the lobby, which made this all the more foreboding ... and embarrassing. He’d missed his first three classes; Geography, Biology, and Math. He didn’t mind so much though, as a very academic student in his last school, Mielo never had a mark below 90% in any of his courses. Albeit, English was going to be a problem here, for the blond boy was from Germany, and English was but a spoken trinket he’d picked up through the internet. He was only just able to pass the application process with the broken language he knew, but was still required to take an English as a Second Language class in this venue of study.

He looked down at the schedule that was mailed to him a week prior to find the room he was to be in about fifteen minutes ago. A frantic finger stroked the wrinkled paper until he found his fourth period class, room 214. He lurked around the hallways until he found the stairs, lucky to not have a run-in with any teachers or security guards. Signing into the office before this recovery mission hadn’t even brushed his mind until he was already on the second floor, his only purpose and concern right now was getting to class.

The German boy was relieved to find that room 214 was just a few doors down from the stairwell he took. He walked up to it slowly and gathered his wits and his courage, knowing that if he hesitated for even a moment before the door, he might be stuck there for a while frozen in fear. The wooden door made his knuckle hurt as he knocked, a harsh and unforgiving material, but not nearly as harsh and unforgiving as the ear splitting crash that came from within. Mielo jumped, his heart racing and his body growing hot with humiliation. He could hear the loud commanding voice of the instructor inside, sounding furious at the interruption. The boy’s earth eyes looked down at his schedule next to his room number, L. Lennox was the name printed. What matter of a school was this that hired teachers that yelled and smashed things around on the first day? He could hear the steps, distinct steps of men’s work shoes, and then the turning of the door handle, and the windy blast that came from the classroom as the heavy door swung open, and at least he saw the tall broad silhouette of his first impression of Eaglehurst High.

2

There was nary a more joyous day than the first day of the academic school year. It usually fell on or between September 4th and 7th for the Eaglehurst School District. The Earth was roasted to perfection in the oven of summer, ripe and firm enough to be set out on the cold table of autumn and winter to be devoured by the feeding blooms of a later spring. The groan of children filled the streets, lamenting the end of their seasonal freedom. These were the thoughts of Eaglehurst’s most distinct, and perhaps, most loved instructor, Mr. Lennox. A Renaissance man in his own right, he taught English and dabbled in many a literary art on his own time.

There was no sleep for him, not a wink was dreamt through the night prior, and he was in his work clothes by 5AM, ready for what was actually his third day of work this year, for teachers had two days of prep before any students came in. He showed up his cobalt blue Porsche, and save for one security guard, he was the first one in the building. His class room was immaculate, with some barely noticeable alterations unique to only his room. There was film over his windows that added the slightest tint to the fibreglass, some thin sheets of insulation on parts of the walls, and many hidden boxes of baking soda scattered about. All of this was for him, they absorbed and dulled the sensory stimulation of a room full of antsy teenagers. His eyes, ears, and nose were not that of a normal man, so he blocked UV rays from permeating his windows, insulated the walls to absorb the constant racket, and deodorized the room so that the stench left behind by transient adolescents wasn’t overwhelming.

Dardexian was the term awarded to him one fateful night. He wasn’t careful enough on his way home from an outing in the city, consequencing in being bitten. Lennox contracted the disease, the curse, the venom that transformed his body into that which prowls the night and is hunted by it. Blessed and cursed he was, by powers and weaknesses dictated by the rise and fall of the sun.

But all of this was irrelevant at his beloved workplace where he housed two secrets, neither of which he intended to ever make apparent to any regular here. However, he wasn’t aware of the twist that his other curse would inflict upon his life.

He was a fairly tall man of exactly six feet, and broadly built with wide shoulders and elegant posture. His hair, cut down to his chin and parted in the middle, was a sienna brown flecked with natural highlights, a neatly trimmed chin strap beard with an equally trimmed and thin mustache to go with it bore the same colours. His eyes were a pale grey that looked somehow unnatural, and hid behind unobtrusive spectacles. His face was oval shaped and distinctly handsome with a prominent nose and a contemplative brow.

“Good morning, class!” He boomed in a stage voice that he always sported at Eaglehurst, “Actually, no. It’s not a good morning, it never is on the first day of school, is it? Unless, of course, I have a few go hard goody-two-shoe nerds in my class today.” He paced around his desk like a drill sergeant walking up and down his line of petrified underlings, “I love the nerds, just so you know. And teacher’s pets. And kiss asses, so don’t be ashamed to try to stroke my ego for an A. Okay!” He picked up a large dictionary and slammed it on his desk as hard as he could without breaking anything, thus started the reign of Lennox over this year’s English Honors class. All of the students jumped at the ear splitting sound that rivaled all of the collective words in that book being spoken all at once, the definitions ringing in their ears and pounding in their chests.

Lennox took attendance and noticed all but one student on his roster was attending class today, the exchange student. He wasn’t pleased, but any number of things could be making this kid miss the first day of school, and the exchange students always kept up a good academic reputation, so he thought nothing more of it for now. He went on to putting a few more scares into his students and gave them their first assignment, which he was explaining to them with such vivacity of his gesture and tone that one might have thought he was reciting a contemporary soliloquy. When a knock on the closed door sounded, he slammed his chair down on the floor in a false rage.

“Who dares??” He commanded, stomping over to the door, expecting it to be an annoyance in the form of a neighboring teacher coming over to complain, or perhaps a secretary delivering some paperwork, but was taken aback when he saw who it really was.

The man looked down at the blond boy that stood before him, who seemed nothing short of petrified and panicked, and even radiated a heat of humiliation as he looked up at Lennox. The instructor did not notice how long of a pause he took as he stared dumbfoundedly at the boy. He himself felt a warmth growing inside him and his heart began to pound furiously, swelling to the near point of bursting with blood and vigor. His brow must have furrowed as he stared this kid down and watched as the youth flinched in fear for his life. Lennox shook the feeling of desire from his mind and came to his senses.

“Are you Mielo Herz?” He asked, mispronouncing the boys name as Milo rather than Meelo.

The blond nodded, “M-Mielo Herz,” and corrected the tall man’s pronunciation bashfully, “Herr Lennox?” he asked as he gulped loudly.

Herr Lennox. It resonated through his head, and it was all he heard for all of three minutes before the echoes finally ceased. The pitch of Mielo’s voice, his accent, his terrified tone all made Lennox’s blood boil with a forbidden longing that he’d always sought to fulfill elsewhere. An eternity of internal argument flared in his mind as he fought his urges, the illegal taboo that he’d so long justified to himself as a corruption of his past that was no fault of his own. Ephebophilia, but commonly misconceived as the more derogatory and unsavory pedophilia. Until now, Lennox had taken his private affairs into the anonymity of the internet and the high and low parts of the city, which was the safest way of exploring his sexuality. Now a boy, who has undoubtedly and instantly captured the English Teacher, has shown up in his school, consumed his thoughts in no less than a second of his presence, so what was Lennox to do? After his personal eternity, he’d made his resolve, yet pushed it back into the furthest reaches of his brain for him to ruminate over later.

“That’s me,” Lennox grinned as he would had in any other situation, regaining his composure at last. He could feel the eyes on him in his short, yet vulnerable, lapse of judgement. He’d let his facade slip for just a moment as he was taken by surprise, but he could recover from this. Yes. It would be easy, “you’re late. See me after class and I’ll get you caught up.” He stepped aside and beckoned for the boy to come in.

Mielo looked up at Lennox, a small amount of his fear shed from his face as he stepped into the room and looked around stiffly, seeming unsure.

“I’ll find you a seat. Hmm … you’re the exchange student?” Lennox asked, receiving an even more stiff nod from the blond who couldn’t even afford him eye contact. He understood, in fact, Lennox had dealt with far more horrified students in the past, “a front row seat, you shall have! This’ll be your toughest class, I know it will be. it always is for the exchange kids. But fear not! You could not hope to be in better hands.” He clapped one of those hands on the boy’s back, destroying his balance and knocking the air out of his lungs as he stumbled forward.

Mielo gasped for air and wrapped his arms around his front as the pain in his body was reawakened by the iron palm on his back, “n-nein, nein! All ze seats are t-taken, ja?” He looked over the classroom, making the accurate observation that the only seats left were all the way in the back, “I vould not like to haf anyvan move.”

Lennox sense that this kid only wanted to be out of the eye of everybody else, and as much as the teacher wanted to win his favour, he could not have this, “oh no! No one will be disturbed at all-- here.” Lennox left Mielo’s side and strutted over to the back of the row closest to his own desk, picked up a student desk with one hand, and marched back to the front. He set the desk down and pushed the entire row of desks and the students in them back effortlessly to fill the space that the empty desk had made in the back. Feet lifted and smiles of wonder and shock were planted on the faces of the sophomores during their two second amusement. Exclamations were made across the room as Lennox fitted the desk in the front of the newly rearranged row.

“There you go!” He concluded with a courteous and theatrical bow, much to the dismay of Mielo, who’s face was growing quite red.

3

Mielo couldn’t believe this guy, the first teacher he had in this country, and he was insane. Were all teacher in the States like this? Why did he even come here? He would have much preferred to go to France, or even so far as Japan. But alas, his father didn’t get a job offer in either of those places, so Mielo was stuck in this pit of corruption, violence, stench, and crazy instructors. At least this guy seemed forgiving enough, though Mielo didn’t want to stay after class; he just wanted to go to the cafeteria to unwind since his lunch break was right after this. He tried to disappear in the crowd, but Mr. Lennox was too sharp, to focused on him to let him slip by to easily.

“Milo Herz!” He called out shamelessly, grinning crudely from his desk like a Casanova about to cast a wink at a lady.

“Mielo,” Mielo grunted in annoyance, his body now dried of the nervous sweat he’d broken out in before, but his face still kissed with pink.

“Sorry,” Lennox laughed heartily, with an obvious feigned innocence, “I’m not used to German pronunciation, but I’m willing to learn all about it if you put an equal effort into this class for me. You have a long line of exchange students before you to prove your worth against.”

“Great …,” Mielo groaned. Why would this man add more to his already full plate? The boy tried to calm himself, coming to a new country with a crazy father and a crazy English teacher was never supposed to be easy. He supposed it could be worse, since the education in the States was supposed to be considerably dumbed down compared to all of Europe anyway.

“But don’t worry, you’re a smart kid, I can tell. At least … you work hard if you’re not smart.”

“Danke … I think …,” Mielo frowned at the man, thinking about just blowing him off if this continued any longer.

“I saw your transcript and your portfolio, and I was impressed.” Lennox’s smiled now shifted, and from a malevolent tease, he became a genuine and honest man of good nature.

“Ja?” Mielo suddenly perked up and made eye contact with the man for the first time since they first met at the door.

“Yes, there were a few translation discrepancies, I think, but that’s not your fault. Otherwise, I haven’t seen anything this profound coming from a freshman level student.”

“Ahh-- danke, Herr,” Meilo bowed his head with humility, feeling a shameful pride building up in his chest. He’d never received so much as a speck of praise from anyone at his old school … or anyone at all since his mother died for that matter.

“I think you’ll do fine in this class, you might just have a bumpy start. But that’s what I’m here for.”

“Ja,” Mielo huffed, trying desperately not to show his impatience. “I apologize for mein … eh, how do you say? Verspätung?”

“I’m sure you’ll know how to translate that if you’re not late for your last class,” the teacher seemed to tease. The student’s shoulder slumped, but then he felt a gentle yet somehow firm grip on his shoulder. “Relax, I’m just kidding.”

“Herr Lennox, I do not mean to offend you, but if you may, please schnell.”

“Oh don’t be silly, you have lunch next,” Lennox laughed, assuming correctly what Mielo was trying to say, but he did comply to the boy’s wishes. He reached into a large folder and pulled out a few papers and a book off of a small stack on his desk, “he is the syllabus for the first semester, it has everything we’ll be covering from now until the midterm in January, this includes readings, quizzes, tests, and all that stuff, my email, and how I will be calculating your final grade. Here is your first homework assignment, due on Friday, and here is your first reading.” He explained the assignment to Mielo briefly but efficiently, making sure that nothing he said was lost in the language barrier between them.

“Steinbeck is an excellent writer, and the language in this book isn’t dense at all. Just keep a dictionary on hand and if you have any questions about the book, we’ll discuss them in class. Got all that?” Lennox finished with an amiable and encouraging smile.

“Ja, danke Herr Lennox,” Mielo repeated, feeling a great deal better about this class, and maybe about the entire school deal. This man was crazy, but he seemed to be well natured enough, and he wasn’t the least bit angry that Mielo was late on his first day.

“No need to thank me, this is what I’m paid for.” Lennox jested, acquiring a nervous chuckle from Mielo, “and if any of your teachers give you a hard time for missing the first day tomorrow, let me know.”

“Ja.” Mielo answered flatly, turning slowly to get out of the classroom.

“I’m serious.” Lennox commanded with a darker tone. Mielo turned to his English instructor one last time, a fearful look in his eyes as if he was in trouble, “not all of the instructors here will be as understanding. This school is run more like a university than a highschool sometimes. That is why you’re here. You wouldn’t be the first student I’ve had to vouch for.”

“J-ja …,” Mielo nodded one last time, “bis später!” Mielo waved, scampering out of the room. At long last! He was free! The exchange student pressed his back to the cool tile wall of the hallway as he let his body cool down. Too much this place was, too hectic was his day already! He hoped it wouldn’t stay this way, but he was reasonable enough to know that everything would fall into place after a week, or a month at most.

He figured that he should sign into the office now, and get his locker number and combo so that he wouldn’t have to trudge through the day with all the textbooks he was sure to acquire on his back. He signed in with minimal event, and cleared up everything with a sweet looking secretary at the front desk, then he went to start filling up his locker. The door was smaller than he thought, he was expecting more of a miniature closet, instead he got a sort of cubby that was only ten inches wide and a foot taller than he.

“American schools,” he thought to himself as he committed his locker combination to memory and slammed it shut, finally able to go relax in the cafeteria with the remaining three fourths of lunch period.

4

    It was Lennox’s lunch break as well, and he considered following Mielo to the cafeteria that he so longed to escape to, but he thought it would be better for him to simply ruminate in his classroom alone, for now. What was it about this kid that entranced him so? It troubled Lennox on a deep level and brought him considerable distress to think that it would be a kid from his own school that he must pursue. This was dangerous business; very, very risky, dangerous business. He repeated this to himself over and over in his mind, but no matter how many cons outweighed the meager pros, he could not shake his resolve. In a way, his ego was the loudest voice in his head again. You’re immortal, Lennox. You know better than them all, Lennox. They can’t hurt you. What’s the worst that can happen? You know you can disappear if you want to. Who says you can’t start over again if you mess up? You have plenty of time for a career, but you don’t find one like that every day, you know.

    His plan was formed in a fraction of a second, it was the most reasonable course of action for a man to take in such a perilous quest as this. If he risked making an advance, serious consequences could follow if his judgement and timing were off even in the slightest way, but he would not even have to think of seducing quite a lad as Mielo if he made the boy fall for him first. It wouldn’t be so hard, he knew enough about children and how they come to admire their superiors. Lennox grinned to himself in his dark classroom, looking just like an incognito antagonist from a comic book as he sat there with his eyes lost in thought behind his glasses.

    A good start was what he had, there were clue written all over Mielo. First of all, he was very impressionable, and even the first startle Lennox inadvertently gave him with the slam of the chair in response to his knock made him a powerful man. Powerful men were made to be followed. He offered help to the boy in a way that hardly any other teacher in the school would. He was deprived of praise, Lennox could tell, this would be his most powerful tool in these beginning days. The way a glimmer of timid pride flickered in Mielo’s face when Lennox gave him the conveniently honest truth about his entrance essay and transcript. Perhaps his parents were hard on him, the sorts that got angry at a B+, and didn’t even care for an A+. He wouldn’t know until later that his prediction was almost spot on, but he decided to go after this angle first and progress from there.

    He bit his lip as images flew through his mind of how things would go if his plan worked out, which it would. Lennox always made his plans work. Someone once said to him that he was too clever to be teaching high school, and in a way, he was. However, he wouldn’t leave Eaglehurst for anything, and his abilities were modestly concealed to all but those that smelled the stench of the ugly underneath the intellect.

    “Lennox!” A full, yet raspy, voice filtered through the closed door as its owner’s fist rapped on it.

    The English teacher was shaken from his stupor, but not startled. His lustful grin faded for a moment, and a new grin formed on his face; the cockiest grin known to the entire district. He stood up and trotted to the door, taking his time.

    “Lennox, I know you’re in there! Open up! You shouldn’t lock yourself in your classroom, that’s a--” The door swung open at Lennox’s hand to reveal a slightly stooped older man. He looked very much like a Mr. Rogers impersonator, he donned the exact same garb and brushed back grey hair, yet he was more squat, and sported heavier features. A permanent scowl inhabited his face, “--fire hazard.”

    “Actually, doors are supposed to be kept closed during a fire, after all students and faculty are evacuated of course.” Lennox corrected the man that stood before him with a kind smile.

    “Whatever,” the grey haired teacher rolled his eyes and handed Lennox a memo that was being handed out to all of the English department teachers, “this is our staff development schedule for the year.”

    “Thank you, Dunne,” Lennox chanted, warranting a glare from the other English teacher, “what?” Lennox asked innocently.

    “Nothing,” Dunne replied with a twitch of the eyebrow, “I hope you don’t torture those poor kids this year.”

    “Haha! I never torture my kids,” Lennox hooted, “they’ll come out of my class as bright little saplings on their way to being a thriving scholarly tree.” He laughed at his own silly metaphor, leaving Dunne grumbling to himself down the hall to the next class room.

    Even though Lennox displayed considerable ease around Dunne, he was a dangerous man and the biggest concern of Lennox’s every year. Somehow, this rival--Dunne, he knew that Lennox was funny, he knew that Lennox was too smart to be here. At first, the younger English teacher passed it off as jealousy, for Dunne had been the most loved teacher in the English department for many years before Lennox was hired. It wasn’t even a full year before his unconventional methods of teaching yielded excellent results in his students grades. It even helped in all of their subjects, much to Dunne’s dismay, for he was the previous holder of that unspoken title. But years went by, and Lennox never noticed the students loving Dunne any less; he eventually figured out what the real source of the old man’s contempt was.

Lennox had a conversation with a senior member of the History department a few years ago while he was chaperoning a field trip. They were having lunch in the cafeteria of a museum and the secret of Carl Dunne was revealed to him. The man wasn’t all there, albeit nobody knew exactly what was wrong with him, though some said it was a slowly developing form of Alzheimer's. He’d had it since he was committed for a short time in his twenties, after which, he was deemed fit to be let out into society as long as he was on medication. The man was reliable with it, but he still had insuppressible symptoms of his ailment. He fancied himself a do-gooder in a sense, and sniffed out “evil” as he saw fit. He was responsible for many calls to the psychologist’s office when he suspected a kid was being abused, or was abusing substances. Many of these calls proved to be good leads, but about thirty five percent of them were blanks. This was bleak news for Lennox, for it meant that Dunne smelt something foul on him, and if he wasn’t careful everyone would cease passing off Dunne’s suspicions as plain old crazy.

He’d learned how to deal with him, but it would be tricky, this year of all years, to stay under Dunne’s radar. At least it made it fun, Lennox chuckled to himself, nothing in his life was fun without a little challenge. He was very good at making things challenging for himself, he had about three lives to live and he maintained each actively and well.