Freak. OCD. Crazy. Baby. Asymmetrical.

Everyday. Every damn day those words flew right passed him—He didn't let it show, no, of course not, he'd ignore it like always. He wouldn't break, not in public, he waited until later, until he was at home and the words sunk in.

Every day it was like this—He couldn't get away from it, of course not, he was an easy target and everyone knew that. He threw his fits, over the smallest things, something off balanced here something asymmetrical over there.

Just, any little thing could cause him to snap.

And they preyed on that. It only made matters worse.

He was uptight, prim and proper, the son of the head of the school for Christ's sake—But here he was, bullied and picked on for his compulsive issues, how he acted, how he dressed even. Why? He didn't understand. He tried to fit in, damn was he trying, but it just didn't work.

He knew he shouldn't have ever come here.

Shuffling his way into the lunch room he kept to himself, head down as black and white bangs shadowed his features, looking up every once and awhile to make sure he was heading the right way—Which he always was. Making his way into the lunch room with no complications things seemed fine, no one had spoken to him in the hallways, people didn't seem to give him any glances—

Or perhaps he had thought too soon. It was the same group of boys, the ones who always taunted him, right there in the lunch room—Where they waiting for him? Just to torture the boy's mind? He suspected they were.

Kids were cruel.

And there were those words again, all of them, being scoffed out as he just tried to ignore it, walk passed—But this time was different, he'd just had enough by now, and he couldn't hold himself together.

Vision blurring from the tears that welled within the Reaper's eyes a hand came up to furiously rub them away, a shaky inhale soon being taking. He just had to ignore it—Their words didn't matter, he didn't care what they thought. Or perhaps he did.

Without much attention he came to a sudden stop, body colliding into the back of someone else, glassy yellowed orbs shifting up quickly—Spotting the familiar white mess of hair and red hues that soon peered down curiously at him. He was about to speak up, apologize, though, without a warning he was suddenly drawn into the boy's chest, eyes widening as he froze completely, not understanding what was going on.

"Hey! What the hell is wrong with you guys?"

Red eyes went furious as the scythe's lips pulled back into a snarl, his vision focused directly on the group that had tormented the smaller boy before hand—They had all frozen, along with everyone else within the room. No one expected this, at all.

Especially Kid.

"Wha—What are you—"

He was caught off quickly, another yell escaping the white haired male—Though, this time a threat being thrown, telling the other's to back off or he'd practically mutilate them.

That got them to run.

By now the golden eyed boy was shaking within the male's tight grip, more tears pooling from his eyes—Not because he was upset now, no, not at all. Because he was thankful, happy that someone had finally taking a stand. For him. It was an honor, really, and he didn't know what to say, or do for that matter.

And out of everyone, Soul Eater, one of the most well known weapon's in the school, the cool guy, the one people tended to look up to—He took a stand for the lowly Reaper.

Now, he was within safe keeping.