Pants Down

Nathaniel

A sharp headache pierced through my skull, and my body burned inside out, as I groaned…..

Low at first. Muffled. Like I was underwater, and like I was drowning or something…

“Can you hear me?” Something cool touched my forehead. I immediately retracted from the touch, frowning deeply.

My eyes fluttered open. The ceiling above me was white. Too white. It took a few seconds for my brain to catch up.

I wasn’t in the lecture hall anymore.

I turned my head slightly. Bad idea. A wave of dizziness hit instantly, and my stomach reacted to it instantly.

“You fainted,” a woman’s voice said gently.

I blinked until her face came into focus. A nurse. Light blue uniform. Calm eyes watching me carefully.

“I’m fine,” I croaked automatically.

She raised an eyebrow. “You collapsed in the middle of a test.”

“I just didn’t eat,” I muttered.

“That doesn’t explain the fever. Or the bruising.”

My jaw tightened.

“I’m fine,” I repeated.

She sighed softly and began checking my pulse. “What’s your name?”

“Nathaniel.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“In… the campus clinic.”

“Good.” She scribbled something down. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Pop up test,” I said, closing my eyes briefly. “I was late.”

She gave me a look that clearly said that wasn’t the important part.

“You have a high fever,” she continued. “And you’re dehydrated. Your blood pressure dropped. That’s why you fainted.”

“I said I’m fine,” I insisted, pushing myself up on my elbows. Why won’t anyone ever listen to me?

The room tilted immediately.

“Nathaniel—”

“I have to go.” I swung my legs off the bed.

The second my feet touched the floor, my knees buckled.

The world spun violently and I hit the ground hard, pain exploding up my ribs.

The nurse gasped. “Oh my God—!”

She hurried around the bed, crouching beside me. “You cannot just get up like that!”

“I said I am fine!” I yelled, pushing her off, though my voice trembled.

She looked at me for a long moment, something like frustration and pity mixing in her eyes.

“Do you have someone I can call?” she asked softly. “Family? A friend?”

The question caught me off guard.

Someone.

I let out a small, breathless chuckle.

“No,” I said. “There’s no one.”

The silence after that felt heavier than the fever.

She didn’t push. Instead, she helped me back onto the bed, where I allowed her, knowing that I was now a charity case.

“I’m giving you medication for the fever and pain,” she said. “You’re not leaving until your temperature drops.”

I didn’t argue this time.

She handed me a cup of water and pills. I swallowed them slowly, throat still sore.

“Your professor came by earlier,” she added casually while adjusting the IV line.

My eyes snapped toward her. “What?”

“Professor Loe. He seemed concerned. He said when you’re feeling better, you should come to his office.”

The test.

My stomach dropped.

“My test—”

“You fainted,” she said firmly. “I’m sure that will be taken into account.”

But anxiety crawled under my skin anyway. Every test in this school is accumulated in accounts to my CGPA.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Nathaniel!

“Your health matters most right now,” she told me calmly.

Time blurred after that. The medicine made me drowsy. The fever eased slightly. The pounding in my head dulled to a steady ache instead of a hammer.

Eventually, she checked my temperature again.

“It’s lower,” she said. “You can leave, but go home and rest.”

“I will,” I lied.

She gave me one last look like she knew I was lying but didn’t have the energy to argue.

I signed a paper with shaky hands and left.

The hallway felt steadier now, though my body still felt weak. Each step toward Professor Loe’s office tightened something in my chest.

What if he failed me?

What if—

I stopped in front of his office door.

My breathing turned uneasy, still feeling slightly feverish…… I knocked before pushing open the door, and when I raised my eyes—

I froze on the spot, the oxygen knocked out of my lungs, and I blinked hard and fast, gripping onto the door knob.

A boy with light brown hair leaned against the desk, with Professor Loe behind him, and I noticed that both their pants were on the ground.

“Ah….” The boy slightly moaned.

I dropped whatever was in my hold, stunned to the gut, and it caught both their attention, as Professor Loe’s eyes quickly locked on me.

“I’m sorry!”

Fuck! I cursed immediately, reacting as I spun around, slamming the door shut behind me.

What the actual sick fuck?

My palm was still wrapped around the door knob, fingers trembling. I could feel the heat rushing to my face, but whether it was fever or embarrassment, I didn’t even know anymore.

Footsteps.

Quick ones.

The door behind me opened again.

“Nathaniel.” Professor Loe’s voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second before turning around slowly.

He had fixed himself. Shirt tucked in. My eyes went lower, and thankfully his pants were back on.

Uneasiness raced through his features, and before I could open my mouth, the other guy immediately rushed out, trying to cover his face with his backpack.

I pressed my lips together, fidgeting like fuck, as my brain slowly came to the realization that Professor Loe was gay. And was fucking one of his students. Fucking coward.

He cleared his throat. “Come in, Nathaniel.” And I noticed that he wasn’t aiming for any eye contact.

Things were as awkward as hell, as I shifted uncontrollably for the second time, as I sat opposite him, with him behind his desk.

“I did knock,” I blurted out blankly.

“How’s your health?” he questioned.

I rolled my tongue. “I feel better.”

Was he really going to act like nothing happened? Probably the best way to approach this, I guess.

He shook his head. “Unfortunately you failed the test, because you had passed out.”

I chewed my inner jaw, already anticipating something like this to happen.

“Professor Loe—”

“And your other tests and exams from the other departments came in today, and you haven’t been doing well lately, Nathaniel.”

The words felt heavier than they should.

I kept my face blank.

“I know,” I said quietly.

He folded his hands on the desk, finally looking at me directly. Not as a man I just caught doing something inappropriate. Not as someone embarrassed.

As a professor.

“You’re a medical student,” he continued. “You understand how competitive this program is.”

My throat felt dry again.

“Yes, sir.”

“Your CGPA has been dropping since last semester.”

Each word was precise. Controlled.

“If this trend continues, your academic standing will be reviewed.”

Reviewed.

That word in this faculty meant one thing.

Termination.

“And your scholarship,” he added, voice still calm, “is conditional.”

There it was.

I felt something tighten in my chest.

“If your CGPA falls below the required threshold, the scholarship board will reassess your eligibility.”

Reassess.

Meaning gone.

Meaning I’m out.

Meaning I can’t afford tuition.

Meaning I’m finished.

“I won’t let that happen,” I said quickly, leaning forward despite the dull ache in my ribs. “Professor Loe, I’ve just— I’ve had some issues, but I can fix it. I will fix it.”

My voice sounded desperate.

I hated that.

He studied me for a moment.

“You fainted in my class,” he said. “You’re bruised. You’re clearly unwell. And yet you’re more concerned about a single pop up test.”

“Because it matters,” I snapped before I could stop myself. “Everything here matters. One bad score affects the next. And the next.”

Silence stretched between us.

Then he leaned back slightly.

“There is… an alternative,” he said slowly.

My eyes lifted.

He reached into a folder on his desk and pulled out a printed leaflet. He slid it across the table toward me.

“A tutorial program the faculty is running,” he explained. “Senior students assist juniors in anatomy and biochemistry or any other courses you know you can handle. It counts toward academic credit.”

I stared at the paper.

“If you join as a student tutor,” he continued, “the credit hours will be calculated into your CGPA. It can help stabilize it.”

I blinked.

“You want me to… teach?”

“You’re capable,” he replied simply. “Your foundation scores in first year were excellent.”

That felt like a lifetime ago.

“You’d have to commit weekly hours. Preparation. Supervision. It won’t be easy.”

Nothing in my life was easy.

“You should go home,” he added. “Rest. Think about it before giving me an answer.”

Think about it?

Go home and calculate the possibility of losing the only thing keeping me here?

I didn’t even hesitate.

“I’ll do it.”

He paused. “Nathaniel—”

“I’ll do it,” I repeated, firmer this time. “Sign me up.”

My hands were still shaking slightly, but my voice wasn’t.

“If this keeps my CGPA from dropping further, I’ll do it.”

He watched me carefully, as if weighing whether I was making a decision out of logic or panic.

Maybe it was both.

“You understand it will require responsibility,” he said.

“I understand.”

“You’ll need to maintain attendance and performance in your own modules as well.”

“I will.”

There was no room for failure.

Not anymore.

He exhaled slowly.

“Very well. I’ll forward your name to the program coordinator.”

Relief didn’t come.

Just pressure.

More of it.

“Your retest will be scheduled next week,” he added. “Provided you’re medically fit.”

I nodded.

“Thank you, sir.”

I stood up carefully this time. The dizziness had dulled, but exhaustion still clung to my limbs.

As I reached the door, he spoke again.

“Nathaniel.”

I stopped.

“I trust that you won’t say anything regarding what you saw earlier.” His eyes firm on mine.

“I understand, sir.”