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Hassel tends to be the professor that most students confide in.
His age, which Rika tends to joke about (even though he is hip and cool, thank you very much), never appears to dissuade even the youngest of pupils. In fact, it seems to pull them in waves, as he is the eldest professor to be unapologetically confident in sharing his sexuality – mostly by gushing over his husband. That, and being the Professor to sponsor the GSA, made him a priceless resource to the fledgling youth who were realizing themselves at Uva Academy. Every time a person approaches, requesting that they speak with him in private, he receives them with open arms. Kindhearted and empathetic, he will put on the tea kettle and offer a snack, anything from pastries to crackers, which he kept in a box on the bookshelf that lined the wall of his office. He would listen to whatever they had to say, which could range from complications with their present art projects to coming out to the first adult that seemed to care.
Hassel was touched by their vulnerability, every time. Misty-eyed, he would recognize them for their trust, thoughtfully offering tissues or sharing enthusiastic smiles. Whatever they looked for in a mentor, he could deliver.
Throughout his tenure, touching correspondences of thanks from his students found their way into his letterbox, in which he read alone in his office, and subsequently cried through a box of tissues. Sometimes, they would be so heartfelt that he would call Brassius, snuffling about how appreciative he was to have such delightful students.
He just couldn’t help it. Preconceptions be damned, he was sensitive, and he was proud of it.
Regardless, though, he still had to do his actual work, which he did not mind. Critiques were due by the end of the month, and he preferred to get ahead, rather than drop behind in his work. He treated his obligations as a professor very seriously. After all, if he had to pull overnights in his office, he would miss his habitual nighttime routine with Brassius. How could he ever willingly find himself in a situation in which he wouldn’t get to share a warm shower with his lover? He could scarcely think of it.
“I’ll be home a tad later than normal, darling. Possibly around six o’clock.” Hassel had called an hour earlier. He always made certain to let Brassius know when his agenda changed. Though he seldom fretted as regularly as Hassel, he understood that Brassie could be a bit uneasy when his husband didn’t make it home on time.
A warm meal and wine had been promised to him when he returned that evening, which gave him all the incentive he required to finish as quickly as possible. Brassie certainly recognized that the way to his heart was through his stomach, it seemed.
Perched in his high-backed tufted chair, Hassel sat at his well-made oak desk, eyes fastened to a snapshot of Arven’s midterm assignment – a mosaic made from little pieces of glass and stones he had unearthed throughout his travels during the Treasure Hunt. He recalled helping him space out the grid overtop of a photo of Mabostiff and selecting the ideal colors to add complexity to the piece. It was a striking dedication to his beloved friend, and Hassel couldn’t be prouder. He was in the middle of writing out notes on a pad of paper when he was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Come in.” He called, not looking up from his work. The wooden door creaked open and was shut delicately a moment later. The quiet shuffling of feet on the area rug he had laid out ages ago was the solitary noise in the room, as the individual who had approached did not announce their presence. Hassel glanced up, surprised to find Jacq, the latest teaching-assistant-turned-professor, standing just inside the entryway. It was infrequent that he spoke to his newest associate, other than to contribute his evaluations after required observation of his classes, which was crucial in the first year of lecturing.
Their specialties simply did not connect with one another, as Hassel had no true interest in science, and Jacq seemed to be too scatterbrained to center on anything but biology. The elder professor felt that the youth wasn’t as proper as a teacher ought to be, but then again, it would be old-fashioned for him to say so (curse Rika for making him feel like a dork). Jacq’s passion was admirable, though, and he would acknowledge that it was nice to have a fresh perspective on the traditions of the Academy. Plus, Jacq had once assisted by sneaking into the Academy Conservatory to cut a fresh bouquet for Brassius, so he supposed he was indebted to him for pulling that off.
Tension seemed to hang in the air between the two of them, with Hassel staring him down, and Jacq shuffling in place, eyes seeming to dart anywhere but to the professor in front of him. With a sigh, he took his glasses off, electing to speak, even though he was the one to be approached in the first place.
“Professor Jacq? Do you need something?”
“I… uh…” Jacq stammered, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I just… can I talk to you? I had some… questions, I think.”
“Of course. Please, have a seat.” Hassel gestured to the chair across from him, turning to put the kettle on. It was about time for him to have his midafternoon tea, anyways. “Do you take your tea with sugar?”
“Oh, I don’t drink tea.” The younger professor replied. “But thank you! I appreciate it.”
Hassel hummed softly. “I suppose I should have assumed that, bearing in mind that I’ve scarecly seen you without a can of whatever energy drink is most popular these days. Young people seem to have quite the tolerance for such sweet drinks. I’ll never understand it.”
“Ah, yeah… works better than coffee.” Jacq tittered nervously, pushing his glasses up, only for them to slide right back down his nose. Pieces of lavender and violet hair fell into their eyes, but he didn’t seem to mind.
Hassel poured himself a cup of tea, placing it delicately on the desk to cool. Relaxing his arms on the edges of his chair, he tried to meet Jacq’s eyes again. “Go ahead, then.”
“Go… ahead?”
“You said you had a question?”
“Oh!” The biology professor lit up, remembering that he had, in fact, come there for a reason. “You’re the professor who sponsors the GSA, right?”
Hassel sat up a bit straighter, nodding faintly. “I am. I took over approximately eight years ago.”
“How… how’s that going?” Jacq fussed with the collar of his worn-out shirt.
“Going well.” Hassel looked over at them, brows knitting in worry. This conduct was uncharacteristic of the typically sunny and excitable professor. Their disposition could be a bit frazzled, but he had never perceived him this apprehensive before. “Is there a problem with one of my students? The names of members are left anonymous to ensure safety, but if you believe something is amiss, I would like to know.”
“No, no, nothing’s wrong with the students. I was just… wondering, that was all.” Jacq fidgeted, quiet once more. They sat in silence for another minute, the elder professor waiting for some sort of conversation to begin again. When it did not, he found himself speaking back up.
“So, you came here, after hours, to ask me how the club I sponsor is doing?” Hassel probed, quirking an eyebrow.
“Well… that wasn’t all of it. I…” He bit his lip. “Can you help me with a… gender thing?”
There it was.
It clicked for him that Jacq had approached to ask for assistance, just as his other students had. He felt a foolish for being a tad abrasive but hoped that his behavior wasn’t too disheartening to the instructor across from him.
“Of course, Jacq. Why don’t we move to the coffee table? It’s considerably more comfortable to chat there.” Hassel stood up, taking a seat at the small table arranged in the corner of his office. When Jacq did not follow, he beckoned them over. “Come, sit, sit. You’re allowed to be here.”
“Okay…” He nodded, moving to the couch, sitting with his legs crossed beneath him and swaying back and forth.
“Now… why don’t you tell me what’s been on your mind?” Hassel passed him a throw pillow to hold onto, noting that he should really get some sensory items for his students to fiddle with when they were nervous. Perhaps he and Brassius could look for them this weekend at a Delibird Presents shop.
“Well… I’ve been feeling like I don’t belong.” Jacq took a deep breath, squeezing the pillow and running his hand up and down the soft olive-colored velvet. “Ever since I was a kid, I didn’t really get why I felt all… weird about myself.” They gestured at their head. “I mean, I knew I wasn’t like everybody else, ‘cause of the way my brain works, but this was a different kind of weird. It was uncomfortable… it still is.”
“I see. Is this because of your appearance? Or is it more than just that?”
“I dunno.” He shrugged. “It’s all of it, I guess… I don’t mind when people refer to me with masculine pronouns, but I really hate being called a guy. I like when people use they and them to describe me, too.” They murmured, looking up at Hassel before recoiling at the eye contact. “Is that weird?”
“No, not at all, it’s really quite common.” Hassel reassured them, voice soft. “You don’t need to look me in the eyes, you know. I don’t take offense.”
Jacq let out a soft sigh of relief. “Thanks… that’s a relief, I think. I just… don’t know. I never really had a chance to explore these things. University was so hectic that I just pushed my way through. Researching for two years after in the Crater afterwards was even busier. I mean, I barely showered.” He laughed anxiously, though it the joy didn’t reach their eyes. “Being in the science field is really difficult when you’re neurodivergent, let alone when you don’t fit into a binary, either… Which fundamentally goes against the whole point of science, considering that plenty of organisms in the phylogenetic tree that have no apparent gender, or can easily switch between the sexes, or are both at the same time. Obviously, sex isn’t the same as gender, but it’s still much more fluid than a simple XY and XX chromosome. History isn’t my strong suit, but there has been loads of research into the fact that throughout civilization, even as early back as 9,000 years ago, there have been depictions of people who don’t form to gender at all. I mean, people in the field have a hard time even grasping the fact that same-sex relations exist outside of primate species! There’s considerable evidence that’s easily accessible and yet the older members of research groups rarely acknowledge it. I don’t think that an authentic scientist should dismiss data unless they analyze it themselves, and when you look at the qualitative and quantitative figures, there’s no denying that trans people have been around for centuries.” Jacq ranted, but caught himself before he went into another tangent. “Ah… sorry. I can get a little carried away when it comes to biology.”
“That’s quite alright, Jacq. It must be extremely frustrating when people who are supposed to be mentors in the field are closed-minded and unwilling to change.” Hassel sipped on his tea. “Please, continue. You’ve no need to worry. Take as much time as you need.”
“Well… that was a lot of what I wanted to say… I don’t really have anyone to talk to about it. I just get so lonely sometimes, y’know? My mom’s pretty sick, and I never really knew my dad, so it’s not like I can tell them. I mean, I guess I could tell my mom, but… she’s not going to remember.” Something akin to sorrow passed over his face, but the moment faded as quickly as it came. “The only person I could think to come to was you. Clavell’s known me longer, since he was a professor in my thesis program, but… he doesn’t really like me, I don’t think. I’m not sure if anyone does. I mean, don’t get me wrong – people here are really nice! I like Dendra, and Miriam, and Salvatore… but I don’t really trust anyone but you to be nice to me about it and genuinely try to understand.”
Taken aback by the confession, Hassel grew teary-eyed. He pitied the young professor, who appeared so disheartened by the circumstance of their life now that they assumed they had no one to turn to at all. The poor thing was hiding a lot from their colleagues, afraid to speak of his feelings, even though Hassel was confident his peers would be more than happy to support them.
Hassel cleared his throat quietly, inhaling deeply to steel his voice before he spoke. “Jacq… thank you so much for sharing this with me. It takes a lot of courage to divulge such personal information. I can assure you that this will not leave this room. Your confidentiality and safety is of utmost importance.”
Jacq smiled a tad, hugging the pillow tighter in their arms. “Thank you. You’re the first person I’ve ever told, so… that means a lot.”
There was no preventing the blubbering, now. It was moving to be trusted so deeply by a colleague he hardly knew. “Oh, Jacq – I’m honored, truly. I’m happy to support you however you might need. I’ll always be here to lend an ear when you should want it.” Hassel dabbed at his eyes. “I apologize for my emotional response; I’m simply touched that you approached to me with such an imperative piece of yourself.”
“It’s okay, Professor Hassel… Thank you, again. Really.” They responded, rubbing at their eyes underneath octagonal glasses. “Do you think that… maybe I can start using different pronouns?”
“Of course. What would you like me to use? And may I use it in front of our colleagues?”
“Hm… he and they, I think. And no mister in front of my name. I have a PhD, anyways… And, if you can… I think I would like it if you used them openly, too.”
“Alright, Dr. Jacq. I’ll make sure to use those from now on. Please update me if you should discover that these change in the future.”
Acceptance was a different feeling, and Hassel could tell that Jacq was processing it slowly.
When it clicked, though, a brilliant smile crossed their face. Hassel could have wept all over again.
“I… can’t thank you enough. I know I keep saying it, but I really, really mean it.” Their voice seemed brighter, giddy, almost.
“You don’t have to thank me for respecting you, Jacq, but I’m very glad I can provide you with the support you need. If you’d like, you can come by my office at any time. I can help you connect with any clinics or counseling you might wish to try, should you so choose.”
“I think I’ll take you up on that.” Jacq sighed happily, looking down at their watch. They blinked once twice, then suddenly sprung up to his feet. “Ah – I’m late to a meeting with Clavell! He’s gonna tear into me if I don’t get there soon!” They stumbled over to the door, flinging it open and running into the hall. However, he skirted to a stop, poking their head back through the door. “See you later! Thank you!”
Before Hassel could reply, they were gone in a blur. He chuckled softly to himself, standing up and stretching his back. Decidedly, he wouldn’t be getting anymore work done. He didn’t mind, though.
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When he got home, he was greeted with the aroma of fresh herbs being baked into vodka-sauce pasta in the stove. It was shared between himself and Brassius, as he listened to his husband speak of the latest sculptures being erected in Artazon. The Harvest, a series of identical abstract pieces in different color schemes, would be placed around the town in the approaching spring. He would be sure to write it down so he could purchase an aged bottle of red to celebrate. Perhaps they could get away to the countryside for the weekend, too.
“And how about you, my beloved? How was the Academy today?” Brassius hummed, as they stood side by side, cleaning their dishes. “You were home sooner than I expected. Did you finish critiques early?”
“Well… not exactly. Some notes were recorded, but an impromptu conversation kept me from completing the final assessment… I had someone come out to me today. I was the first person they’ve ever told.” Hassel smiled, as he rinsed off their flatware. “It was a difficult to get them to speak, at first, but when they did… Well, it seemed to be quite the respite for them.”
“Oh… how touching. I’m certain you must feel very honored to be trusted like that.” Brassius leaned up, kissing his cheek. “You always seem to be trusted by your students. In another life, you would make a lovely guidance counselor.”
A blush crossed his cheeks, as he shyly looked away. “Brassie, you flatterer… I only wish to be the support that you and I lacked as youths.”
“I suppose that’s true.” A pot was put back on a low shelf, as nothing too weighty was permitted to be placed above arms reach. “But still, don’t burn yourself out. It can prove difficult to hear the struggles of others acceptance when you’ve gone through it yourself. I can’t have my Hass getting sick, now, can I?”
“I’ll be careful.” He vowed, as he finished the last of the cleaning. “It’s hard, sometimes, to hear so many stories that mirror my own. Today wasn’t so similar, but frequently, I am reminded of my father.” Hassel sighed. With a shake of his head, though, he cleared the thoughts away. “I would rather not dwell on it. Shall we take a shower?”
“Yes, please. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.” Brassius pressed a kiss to his lips, walking off towards the bathroom.
Deciding that they would rather have an early night, the shower was quick. Towels were discarded in the hamper, as both put on their pajamas. Brassius climbed into bed last, immediately shoving his cold hands against Hassel to warm them up, causing him to squeal. “Hey! Brassius, that’s freezing!” He yelped, pouting.
“Oh, you’d want me to be cold all night? How uncouth of you.” Brassius tossed a hand across his forehead. “And here, I understood you as a man of chivalry.”
“I swear, you only love me because I’m a space heater.” He rolled his eyes.
“That’s right, darling, and don’t you forget it.” Brassius grinned, shifting to turn off the lamp.
“Ugh, I knew it.” Hassel flopped his head down against the pillow, smiling minutely at the giggle from the man beside him. He curled up tightly, unable to stop the happy sigh when Brassius settled in to spoon him. “I love you, darling, despite your freezing hands assailing me every night.”
“I love you too, space heater.”
“Shuddup.”
Another soft laugh sounded from beside him, as they embraced each other.