Chapter Warnings:
Bullying, sexual harassment, language, violence.
Fiona
Monday afternoons always found Lann standing by the iron wrought gates of Rocheste Preparatory High School, hands tucked into the pockets of his favorite hoodie, as he scanned through the dwindling crowd of students for older-by-a-year Fiona as she left the last class she had for the day.
Lann waits for Fiona at the gates every Monday, 4 o'clock P.M. sharp, without fail to the point where he became a regular (if not odd) fixture at the prestigious academy. The security tried chasing him off a few times but after almost two and a half years of clock-like and routine visits without a single hint of trouble coming from the public school junior, the faculty just let him be. As long as he didn't actually step foot on the campus or start tagging the walls, the staff decided that he was welcome to wait at the gates.
With that said, he was a normal sight at the gates every Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday.
On this particular Monday, it just so happened that he spotted someone, no doubt one of the boys from the famed football team from the looks of it, tagging behind Fiona as she walked towards the front gates. As she drew nearer, Lann could hear through the chattering of other students that whatever the other boy was jabbering on about, it definitely was not nice. The disgruntled and disgusted look on Fiona's pinched face was proof of that, and Fiona was rarely irritated by someone.
"—such a stuck up, prissy, bitch! D'you think you're too good for me, is that it? Answer me, ice bitch!" The boy was huffing away, face red with indignation. It didn't take a genius to determine that Fiona had rejected the boy's advances. It was clear why.
"Let's go. Now." Fiona was tense, everything from the tone of her voice to her quick walking pace, as she breezed past Lann with a blank expression. He followed after her in silence down a few streets, but the boy simply wouldn't give up.
The other boy clearly wasn't done yet and was getting increasingly angry at being ignored. He made to grab Fiona's shoulder, but Lann turned around and shoved his hand away with a fierce scowl. The boy snarled back.
"Go away." Lann drew himself up threateningly despite being a good few inches shorter than the other boy and lighter by twenty stones. "You're being an asshat."
"I wasn't fucking talking to–" He was interrupted when Lann bashed his forehead against the other boy's nose with a resounding crack! and sent him crashing to the sidewalk, dazed beyond belief with his bruised nose leaking a trail of blood.
The boy, his hands cupped over his bleeding nose, managed to croak out, "I'll havth you reported! I can sue you for hitthing me!"
Lann eyed the boy before shrugging nonchalantly. "Fiona can report you for sexual harassment, and you don't even know my name, do you?"
The boy spluttered and Lann turned to Fiona, who had watched the brief exchange with exasperation on her face. The girl shook her head and resumed walking away at a sedate pace, silent. Lann followed, leaving the other boy (he was nameless to Lann at the moment, but Fiona probably knew him) sitting on the concrete.
The two walked to Fiona's house, neither saying a word, but when they reached their destination Fiona stopped in front of the picket fence gate; she didn't open the gate and instead opted to glance at Lann with a contemplative look on her face as she adjusted the strap of her messenger bag. Lann leaned against the fence, arms crossed against his chest and saying nothing in response to Fiona's sudden scrutiny.
"You shouldn't have done that. I can handle myself." Fiona's statement came out more like an exasperated sigh. Lann looked up and into her eyes.
"I know, but a bruised ego is easier to explain than a bruise in the shape of a shoe." Lann broke eye contact and briefly looked down at her one-inch heels before settling back on her face. "Or missing testicles."
"True." Fiona huffed a soft laugh and pushed the gate open. The rusty hinges creaked loudly and a pigeon sitting on the fence cooed before flying away with a flap of its wings. "Do you want to come in?"
Lann shook his head and uncrossed his arms. "I've got to go back. Ellis. Chores."
Fiona smiled and didn't point out the way Lann always never said that he was going home because she knew that the rehabilitation center for displaced children in downtown Colhen was not a real home.
Lann smiled back, uncertainly and adorably shy, before he tucked his hands back into his pockets and hurried away with his head down. Fiona watched him disappear around the corner before opening her front door.
