Amor Fictus
Written by Sakki-san
Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me.
Anything you HAVE heard of, doesn't. Like your reviews. (11 reviews for the first chapter…that's a record for me.)
Ran stalked through the filled halls. He shoved past groups of girls and boys who were chattering gaily about their love lives, and they squealed in indignation when he shattered their tight-knit little groups.
Ran paid them no mind. His thoughts were strictly on Crawford, and how much he wanted to rip the man into tiny pieces. How could he still be mad over that one stupid little thing?! It was enough to drive one mad!
Abruptly the packed halls came to an end, and Ran found himself staring at a mass of students sitting at tables in a giant room. The smells of food drifted from one side of the room, cooked and deceivingly delicious.
Ah, lunch…a nightmare disguised as a dream. While most kids envisioned high school lunches as tasty, well-cooked food served by pleasant ladies and the lunchroom as a huge room full of happy, smiling kids who conversed with their friends without a care in the world, the reality was somewhat……different.
Sure, the room was clean enough; the janitors did their jobs well, probably because they were being paid extra to work here. And at first glance, everyone did seem to be happy, and the food looked delicious. So you wandered in and stepped in line for the food, searching out your friends in the tables, unable to wait for a chance to talk to them without being reprimanded.
Ran knew better. After all, he had no friends.
He was Nobody.
There were others like him; they were scattered around the lunchroom, huddled in corners or on the edges of tables, hoping to be seen and accepted. This was when you saw the ugly side of the lunchroom. That people were actually rejected and forgotten, left to themselves to eat.
Ran didn't mind. He'd eaten alone before.
He slipped into the lunch line ahead of twenty students. They didn't notice, being far too submerged in their conversations about love and hate. The line moved slowly. Too slowly, Ran decided as he leaned against the wall and listened to some girls chatter about their new crushes.
"I swear, he is just sooooo cute!"
"We know that! We've seen him! Come on. You have to know something about him!"
"Other than that he's cute, duh!"
"I know, I know! I hear he plays on the soccer team."
"What position?!"
"Goalie!"
"Aww, that's not so cool."
"So?! He hangs out with the best of them! They all like him!"
"Really?! How do you know??"
"I went out with one of the forwards. He said so himself."
"Lucky!"
"Anyway, he's also really smart! And he's not afraid to ask for help in class! The teachers all think he's some kind of genius!"
"Wow, he sounds absolutely wonderful!"
"Yeah, and he's the most gorgeous guy on the planet."
Ran shut out their mindless chatter. They said the same things about every guy they saw who had a hint of attractiveness on his face. Still, this one sounded like he might be the real thing…
At last Ran could pass into the hot lunch area. The smells were still deceptively good, but then you caught sight of the food. If he hadn't been going to this school for some time, he might have retched.
It was the usual lunch of soy chicken deep fried in year old grease, lumpy mashed potatoes that looked drier than the chicken, rolls and freeze dried beans. He grabbed a white lunch tray with a sigh and let the food fill his plate. The lunch ladies weren't pleasant, but they weren't crabby, either. They didn't say anything to Ran or anybody else for that matter.
The lunches cost money; if they didn't, the school would have collapsed on lack of funds. Ran shuffled through his pocket until he had enough money in change to hand to the woman at the end of the line. She scowled at him when he dumped the old coins into her hand. Obviously, she wanted paper money.
Tough luck.
As Ran stepped into the lunchroom, he tensed. He felt every pair of eyes in there lift to regard him. Was he a friend? Or was he a loser? Did he belong in the front of the lunchroom, with the nerds, or was he a member of the back, with the jocks and weeders? Perhaps he was a boy who sat in the middle with the preps and the popular kids.
Ran was none of those.
He recovered from the momentary shock of being stared at – although the noise of the lunchroom never diminished – and started toward his usual seat near the exit of the lunchroom into the school courtyard. He hesitated only to grab a handful of plastic-wrapped utensils.
This bench was his bench. Nobody sat here but Fujimiya Ran. The last time someone had sat there, they had found themselves on the floor shortly after his arrival. Since then, nobody came near it. Ran sat down and pried open a pack of utensils, seizing the dreaded spork and poking his mashed potatoes with it.
Crawford. Why did that man come to mind when Ran was eating dry mashed potatoes? Maybe because the man was as useless as the food. Or maybe it was because the argument they'd had moments before Ran left the room was still fresh in his mind.
"Do you still consider your answer correct?"
"You know it was correct."
"Yes…and I hate being wrong."
Ran glared at the off-white lump on his plate. Crawford knew he was wrong, yet he refused to admit it. He was more stubborn than any of the students. He scared the entire student body and a large amount of the teachers.
Yet Ran had done something amazing…
Suddenly, everyone exploded into cheering, clapping, and whistling. Ran's head jerked up and he staggered out of his inner monologue to look for whatever had caused this eruption.
The soccer team had just walked in the door. They were returning from a successful game, the end of a winning streak on their shoulders. Everyone howled with appreciation as they moseyed on down to the hot lunch line to get the lunch that only jocks received.
Ran glowered. He hated jocks. He could have easily been on any sports team he wanted, but nobody would accept him. He was physically fit and could run faster than any kid he knew, but he wasn't on any teams.
He simply…didn't want to be part of a team.
Girls screamed with appreciation as the forwards and the goalie came out of the lunch line. The forwards were all sweaty, grass covered, and highly attractive young men. Blonde, brunette, and black haired, with dazzling green or black eyes. Behind them was the goalie, and Ran saw why the girls had been talking about him and not the forwards.
He, too, was covered in grass, but most of it was stuck in his hair, and he brushed the green bits out of his chocolate brown locks with one hand. His eyes were brown, deep brown. So deep that Ran might have lost himself in them when their gazes seemed to meet. They didn't dazzle; they shone. And then he smiled…
Ran shook his head and looked back at his plate. He was Nobody. He didn't associate with the jocks, especially now that the season was over. Their victory had sealed the championship. Everyone was talking about the game; the room was buzzing with voices.
Ran drowned it all out. He dumped his untouched lunch into the garbage can and slumped back down on the bench. Nobody was rushing over to him to tell him about the game. Nobody said anything to him. He just picked it all up from the people at nearby tables.
The score had been 1-2. The ball had been headed right for the visitor – their – goal. It was flying, shooting, screaming for the net. Time stopped as it headed right for the goal that would tie the game…
Ah, what else could have happened? It was blocked. The goalie, the master soccer player, had blocked it. Who was that kid, anyway? Ran listened to find a name.
"…and Ken blocked it!"
So that was it. Ken.
Ran sighed and waited for the bell to ring. It would be a long lunch hour unless he had something to do.
Something to do…?
He pulled out his pre-calc notebook and opened it to the first page, where he had started drawing something. A light sketch, just a few lines. He began drawing more to it, adding on and on until he could definitely see a little girl in it. She had two braids, and a pretty smile. Her eyes were closed because she was laughing. She had a thin, delicate neck, and –
Ran stopped.
This girl…so familiar. So eerily familiar.
So you're creeping into my mind so much that you're influencing my hands…
His head leaned back, and he shut his eyes, willing away the tears that were threatening to pour down his cheeks.