Author's Note: So...I guess Ronnie's like somewhere in his teens? Idk, but that'll have to do.

I suppose it's also important to mention that I won't be using old English words, especially not insults, because I really can't take most of them seriously. And with the way they talk—the best I'll do you for is the most natural way it is for me to word things, which seems to be somewhat comparable to the speech and wording in the few 19th-century English novels I've begun and failed to finish.

And, without further ado, I shall now get on with this.


"Why don't you give us your lunch, Madeleine?"

"Yeah, women don't belong anywhere aside from in the classroom teaching or in the kitchen cooking for a man."

"We're even willing to spare you a knock on the head if you don't try to refuse."

Ronald Knox sat at the back of the classroom, watching and listening to three of his classmates harass Madeleine purely because of her gender. Most of the males in his class had no respect for females,—save for him—and how they felt it was acceptable to treat women was revolting and made him sick. Although his parents told him just to ignore it, "because that's just how things are," but that wasn't something he could do. The way things were weren't how they should be. That actually applied to several topics. Women were equal to men; someone who liked the same gender should be free to be open about it without having any consequences for it; if someone wanted to dress up and act like the opposite gender than it was okay and people should really accept it because something like that was a huge part of who someone was—so why did he have to be the only one who could see that?

"Please stop!" Madeleine's cries jerked Ronald out of his thoughts. "I made this for myself! I'm begging you, let me keep it! I don't get to eat again until supper...!"

"So now you're being selfish? Didn't your father and mother teach you any manners?"

A gentleman wasn't meant to be impulsive. A gentleman wasn't meant to make trouble. A gentleman wasn't meant to start fights. The fact that he had had that drilled into his head didn't matter now—the treatment of Madeleine over her gender and not personality wasn't something he could tolerate.

His pale hands tightened into fists and his baby blue eyes narrowed angrily. He got up, and, grabbing his own lunch, went straight up to the people tormenting poor Madeleine.

"What do you want, Knox?" one of the boys—Alexander—challenged.

Unfazed, Ronald looked up—yes, up, since he was one of the shorter boys in his class—at him. "I want you to leave her alone."

"She's just a stupid woman," one of the other boys—Derrick—said. "What's the use in making her think she has any more value than she ever can?"

Now, mind you, Ronald had been well-disciplined from a very young age, so he wasn't one to act out. This, however, made him unfathomably angry, and he couldn't keep himself from doing something, and so he acted on that before even processing his own thoughts. Heck, he wasn't even able to process that he was furious before he felt a flash of pain in his knuckles, and to everyone's surprise,—including his own—he had actually hit the guy.

Ronald "Goodie-Two Shoes" Knox. Ronald "Innocence Incarnate" Knox. Ronald "Pushover" Knox. Ronald "Pansy" Knox. He was certain that all the nicknames he had unwillingly acquired would all be dropped or replaced, along with the image of the Ronald Knox whom they believed to be incapable of stepping so far out of line.

But lo and behold, there he stood in front of Derrick, his hand in a tight fist with his knuckles turning a light shade of bright red and painfully throbbing. Derrick merely just stood there, looking nothing less than surprised as signs of bruising were already becoming visible.

Which all led to the events after school.

Rain was pouring down—of course it was; Ronald lived in England, so of course it was raining—as he walked home from school. His stomach hurt from not eating since breakfast, since he had given his lunch in the place of Madeleine's, but it was entirely worth it. Even if it hadn't been, though, it didn't compare to the aches and pains all over his body. He didn't consider himself to be physically very tough or strong, and he had been beaten pretty badly. He was sure he would find his chest, stomach, sides, and back covered in bruises when he eventually bothered to look. At this point, though, he was mostly just concerned about his parents finding out about it. Oh, what they would do if they found out he had started a fight,—or rather provoked three guys into beating him up—and how much worse it would make things if they found out why...

Lost in thought, as he usually was,—his problem with that had begun five years prior, but that's going into a completely different topic—he ran into someone.

"I apologize for that, sorry," he said quickly.

"It's all right," the person who he had run into—a classmate of his who he believed was names Thomas—said. "I saw everything that happened this morning, between you and Derrick."

"I was protecting rights I believe women should have." It was a simpler answer than he usually would have given, but he didn't want any more arguments or pain. He had gotten what typically should have been two weeks' worth just that day, and he was exhausted.

"Either you're terribly courageous or terribly foolish, I can't quite tell which. Whatever you may be, I never would have guessed it was in you to act out, and most certainly not like that."

"Truthfully, neither did I." The false cheerfulness that Ronald typically tried to force into his voice had faded and was now entirely nonexistent. His voice was left with a dull and tired tone, with a touch of irritation. He wanted nothing more to be finished—finished with what had happened that day, finished with other people, and, now more than ever, finished with life. But, unfortunately for him, that currently seemed fare from likely. "Is there any particular reason you've struck up a conversation with me?"

Thomas nodded. "Yes, of course. You've had at least a taste of alcohol, haven't you?"

"I'm allowed a little bit on holidays, but that's all."

"And what is your opinion on it?"

"It's all distasteful, aside from wine. This talk aside for now, you haven't answered my question. So I'll ask you again—why have you struck up a conversation with me?"

"Patience, patience, I'm getting to that."

"But idly discussing alcohol is more important?"

"No, although knowing your opinion on alcohol was important." Thomas pulled a folded slip of paper from his pocket and held it out to Ronald. "I'd prefer not to risk anyone overhearing an explanation, so I've written it out. Read this later, and don't let anyone see it."

The blond hesitantly accepted the note and pocketed it. "Is that all?"

"Yes, that's it. Anyway, I have to be home early today, but I will be seeing you tomorrow."

With that, Thomas was gone, leaving Ronald vaguely confused.

Oh well... he thought, continuing on his way. He was soaked, it was cold, and there was no point in standing around idly, but he was in no rush to get home. Once he walked in the front door, he would have to suck up every bit of pain from each blow he had received earlier so as to keep his parents and little sister from getting suspicious about it. And, on top of that, he would need to fake a smile and a happy attitude, and he wasn't sure he had enough strength to do that just yet.

But he couldn't stand around, so he took a deep breath and hoped he would be able to act as well and as long as he would need to.


Author's Note: That's just disappointing, isn't it? Or maybe I'm the only one disappointed... This was meant to be so much more depressing than it is. *sighs* Oh, well, that's what I get for playing World of Warcraft and listening to "LIBERTY PARTY" for three hours before starting this. Fortunately, it can only go downhill from here~! So please do follow so you'll get the next chapter emailed to you when I post it! ^-^