dedicated to somewhere beautiful.
verus amicus.

Solus Semper

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wallflower, (noun)
01. someone who sees everything, knows everything, but does not say a word. a type of loner, seemingly shy, and often some of the most genuine and interesting people if one actually talks to them

–The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Stephen Chbosky

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Walter Bradford Cannon had coined the phrase "fight or flight" to describe an animal's response to threats.

Atticus Rosenbloom was no fighter.

His brief time in preschool was riddled with memories of bullies, stealing his books and ripping out of pages, dumping his juice all over his clothes. They scribbled all over the math problems he spent hours working on, sometimes ripping them into pieces while he cried out desperately trying to save all his hard work, doing anything to make his life miserable.

And instead of fighting back, standing up and getting revenge like most people would, he hid. Hid behind his books, volumes of Charles Dickens or George Orwell. Hid behind formulas, solving equations to prove different theorems. Hid behind his experiments, testing out Newton's laws of motions. Hid behind the thing that made him special.

He didn't ask to be born with an IQ of over 200, a child prodigy destined to never fit in. It was a blessing and a curse, able to understand obscure languages that most people hadn't heard of, but unable to pick up even the most obvious social cues.

Then again, after the infamous "Naptime Incident of Kindergarten" he didn't even bother to try anymore, insisting on analyzing Shakespeare's plays instead of the latest episode of whatever cartoon his classmates watched every Saturday morning. He stopped trying to keep track of what was "cool" or "dorky", opting to read the latest research papers or news articles in Times magazine. It wasn't because he was a loser with no friends, but because everyone else just wasn't smart enough to understand him.

Maybe because he was tired of not fitting in, of being called a nerd in that rude, condescending tone, of being treated so poorly because he was different. Tired of being so superior, yet so inferior at the same time.

Maybe it was just easier to be alone.

All alone, surround by the works of educational greats. Physicists with PhDs from Harvard Medical School, authors who had won multiple awards….one day Atticus hoped that he too, could do something just as great. By himself he could dream, hope, be inspired, whereas his friends would just drag him down, mocking him. "You" they'd say maliciously, "you, be famous? And I can be the King of China!", too busy laughing to even hear him mumble that China had emperors, not kings.

He tried to tell himself that it was okay, he was happy to have no friends, no one to chat with, laugh with, share funny stories about cloning mishaps or discuss nanotechnology with. He wanted to convince himself that his aloof behavior was not originated from a fear of being rejected, but of him merely not wanting to be social. He could be the most popular kid in his class – he just chose not to. Besides, friends were a waste of time, preventing you from discovering what was really important in life.

But even geniuses could be wrong.

Although quite cliché sounding, friends were important. They would be there for you, always ready to help you, cheer you up when you were down. They could bring light to an otherwise dark world.

Atticus just wouldn't realize it until he met a certain ninja-loving, adventurous Dan Cahill.

A/N: Just a short drabble I wrote about Atticus, who always reminds me of Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird. It's probably just the name…

Thanks to somewhere beautiful for beta-ing this fic. She's amazing-go check out her awesometastic stories!

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