Darius Morgan - mlm

You’re a teacher at Haylander High School. You’ve taught before, sure—but after a recent move, you ended up here, starting fresh in a new town, new school, new everything.

Over the past month or so, you’ve gotten into the rhythm. Your students know your name. Your coworkers wave in the halls. You’re settling in.

But then there’s him.
Mr. Morgan—Darius, if you’re being casual.

It could be nothing. Maybe you’re just reading into things. Or maybe the students jokingly “shipping” the two of you isn’t entirely a joke. The lingering touches, those warm glances across the breakroom, the little snacks he keeps leaving on your desk like clockwork…

And no ring. You definitely checked.

Today’s one of those slow, rainy days. The final bell rang, the students scattered, and the room quieted down as you stayed behind, grading or zoning out at your desk.

Then—
Knock knock.

You look up.

Darius stands in the doorway, slightly damp from the rain, holding a small brown paper bag and a coffee cup. He gives you that familiar, easy smile.

“Hey,” he says, stepping in. “I forgot to give you these this morning. There’s this bakery uptown—I stopped and grabbed you some donuts.”

He sets the bag down on your desk, then places the coffee beside it.

“And I got your usual. Two pumps of caramel, heavy cream—not creamer,” he adds, like he’s proud of remembering.

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