A hand yanks Junpei's body back with a rude snap. The collar of his school uniform pops its seams audibly with the force of his classmate's threatening grasp.
"Yoshino! Not so fast there. You were ducking us weren't you, little shit?"
He grits his teeth and lowers his eyes, not needing to look up to know who's shoes are forming a semi circle around him. There were six people who regularly made his life a living hell every chance that they got. Three were boys in his class.
"I'm talking to you! Look your class rep in the eye when he's addressing you, fuck up."
Junpei is shoved against the greasy back wall of the ally that separates the school from the common road. He thought taking this pathway would be a shortcut away from his bullies route. He hadn't counted on the same group of assholes to be waiting for him for a change today. Usually, they'd slap him upside the back of his head as they walked past, throwing a few nasty choice names his way. Maybe if they were feeling particularly energetic, they would start their morning with a chase, leading to an inevitable bruising. Junpei's once pristine white uniform undershirts are now all stained with old blood and asphalt tar that he could never scrub clean in his bathroom sink. He always hid the worst of his beatings from his mother.
This seemed like a day he would have to do that.
"Look up at me!"
THUNK!
His head snaps back when his classmates fist connects beneath his eye socket. There's a burst of red and black and he screams in pain, but when his hands come up, his wrists buckle in weakly. He has no other instinct to protect himself. Still standing, he wobbles shakily. There is no escape to possibly run away. He knows he only has to hide his face from the biggest boy. The other two are cowardly followers who only kick him once he's been knocked to the ground. They once winded him repeatedly this way for several minutes until he threw up over their shoes, only disgusting and angering them further. As long as they didn't mess up his face too badly. As long as his mom didn't have to see-
WHAM!
Junpei folds in half when he's kicked suddenly. He can't breathe. Oh, god! They were going to keep going again! He watches the winding up of the leg pulling back, the look of absolute glee in his assailant's eyes. He's a monster who wants to see pain. And when his shoe connects a second time, that's all the signal his lackeys need to move in closer.
Unfortunately for them, this is also your route to school now. And nothing gets you ready for your day quite like a glorious fight. You had been watching closely as you approached the odd spectacle unfolding before you.
"What a beautiful day it is," your voice greets in a merry little sing song.
Four heads turn your way and eye you up and down suspiciously. It's not an odd thing that you said, so what's their fucking problem? And why is no one saying it back to you? They're wearing the exact same school uniform as you too. These assclowns are your classmates it seems.
"Well, I see this school certainly isn't teaching manners. Also, this is a piss poor excuse for a knucklebust. That kid isn't even on his feet. Which of you is supposed to be the strongest?"
Of course the tallest boy steps forward.
"Why don't you mind your fucking business?"
Ohhhhhh, he wants to play that way?
The blood is blossoming already in your cheeks. He might as well be flirting with you. You watched the way he had grabbed that kid and crumpled him like a lawn chair. It wasn't nearly as riveting as he thought it was. What fun is there in a one sided fight? Though this one may be inclined to take you on if the circumstances were right. Especially with his little crew here to put on a performance for. There's no way he'd say no.
You reach into your back pocket, taking out a few crisp bills from your wallet. You hold them blatantly for everyone to see,
"I say...I'll kick your fucking ass in front of your little fanclub here, or you get to keep my money. Deal?"
He shakes his head in confusion.
"What? Why do you want to fight me? I've never even met you!"
You tuck your cash into your front pocket, concealing your hands as well.
"Oh, I'm sure that barely matters to you. I'll even let you throw the first punch. I can tell you prefer that. So go ahead, big shot."
Now you're being cocky on purpose, goading him to protect his precious manhood and save face. Tilting your head to the side, you smile at him again, "Don't be a little pussy now."
There's a murmer behind him as his two friends exchange shocked whispers at a stranger challenging and insulting their leader.
He has no choice but to angrily step in toward the strange guy hurling insults at him. In three steps he'll be in front of you. If you wanted to you could take your hands out of your pockets and easily counter his strike or even step aside. But you don't move. You want to see what he's made of.
One,
Two,
BAM!
You take his fist square on your chin with a dull impact that only momentarily rocks you off balance.
A grin splits across your face as soon as you regain your footing. Was that all?
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! MAN! You almost had me worried for a minute! At first I felt bad for that kid you were using as target practice, but now I see your hands are too fucking soft to do any serious damage. Do you use alot of lotions?" You jerk your hand at crotch level, pantomiming to complete the imagery.
He furiously swings his fist a second time. In the exact same arch, in the exact same spot. As if you'd give him that twice. What a fucking dumbass. Let's give him a quick lesson about being too predictable.
You grab his arm easily, encircling his wrist from the outside, and pulling him forward with his momentum. His body flops embarrassingly behind you as you rotate your body and trip him. For the hell of it, you also kick him right in the seat of his pants, leaving a dusty shoeprint behind. This of course only sends you into another fit of laughter.
How did he not see that coming? What a fucking asshole! The first hit you set him up for was just to study his steps. He's not the type to change up his attack styles for a new opponent when he's only ever picked on those smaller than him.
Of course he doesn't stay down for long. There's a pensive silence as he regards you warily, taking second thoughts on how best to handle you. You catch his eyes shifting just over your shoulder. Was that a signal to his buddies behind you? If you turn to look, he's just going to run at you, but the goons behind you probably do everything he says. They were about five steps behind you.
Four,
Three,
Two.
You drop your hands to the dirty concrete. Looking between your legs, you catch the placements of the two boys who had run to make a grab for you. They were in really bad positions. That's too bad.
You spring back off your hands, both of your feet kicking out and landing their marks in a double groin smash. They wobble to the ground moaning like newborn calves. You roll off your shoulder expertly and are on your feet within seconds. The boys you kicked would take much longer.
Now it's just you and their fearless leader, but he's not so sure of himself anymore. In fact, it looks like he's stepping back, trying to leave the alley. Is he serious?! You were just getting warmed up!
"Are you fucking done already? Is that all I'm getting?" This is starting to disappoint you for real.
Stomping bullies is hardly ever the fun it sounds like it would be. You need a real opponent. Your adrenaline isn't even pumping yet, what kind of school is this if these were the supposed tough kids? It certainly isn't this little fuckstick who's creeping away from you in reverse. He's seriously going to run?
"No! You get back here and fight like you wanted!"
"You're crazy! What the fuck!?" He calls over his back as he turns and flees, desperate to preserve his testicles from the same terrible fate as his cohorts. The latter, who were also sniveling their way after him, were not going to have a comfortable day of sitting in class at all. They limp out after him, calling pathetically for him to slow down and wait for them.
Un-fucking-believable. Is this how your first day is going to start? With blue balls?
There's a sound of someone else behind you. You spin around with new interest, another opponent?
Oh. It's just the guy they had been attacking earlier. Looking uneasily up at you from the curbside where he had fallen, he is cradling his cheek that is turning a dark color from where he was struck. Peeking out from the dark curtain of his long side swept bang, he looks absolutely terrified of you. His enormous green eyes are watering.
Huh. Well, he's certainly not going to fight you. Your brows knit with frustration.
"What's your deal? I'm not gonna hurt you. Chill." Disregarding him, you stalk out of the alleyway without another word. The depression that follows being teased with excitement only to have it die down immediately is creeping in.
Fuck first period. You were cutting.
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Junpei had eventually made his way slowly but surely to school, waiting several minutes to make sure that his frightful savior was gone before emerging from the alley. He vowed never again to take a different route. After a quick visit to the school restroom to wash his face at the sink and begrudgingly check his darkening bruise in the mirror with a wince, he shuffles off to class. He's late. Again.
As his teacher prattles on about parabolas and tangents and countless other things he couldn't care less about to begin with, he replays the memory of this morning over in his head, especially seeing two of those punks getting taken down at the same time. Despite his initial fear of the new student, who could possibly replace all of his bullies and create an existence far worse than he could imagine, there was something he wasn't expecting when he had met his gaze. He saw that he felt pity for him instead of the disgust and hate he's grown to expect from others. Part of him is definitely still scared of that guy though. He voluntarily took a punch to the face just for the hell of it... And then laughed afterwards.
He finds himself smiling at that image for some reason, but his logical side quickly stifles it away. What's wrong with me? he wonders.
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"Fucking schoolboys and their gutless bullshit," you're grumbling to yourself as you stalk through the empty hallway of the school.
Still simmering over what you viewed as a anticlimactic morning, you double check the printed map of your new school and class schedule written on the back. Flipping back and forth intermittently, you growl with frustration. It's hard for you to focus and remember short term things when you're worked up like now.
Absently, you tongue the split along the inside of your lower lip, teasing the taste of blood from the tiny cut. The only good part of your day so far, but it barely hurt enough. It was more like a mosquito bite than a man's punch. What a fucking wimp! And did you hear him say he was a class rep? Of course. When the uninspired are rewarded, it breeds entitlement.
"Hmph! Maybe next time I'll make him give me more of a challenge..."
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Finally you see your classroom and open the door. A room full of otherwise focused faces look up from their assignments to see who could be interrupting. A man at the fron of the class greets you.
"Well, there you are finally! I received your student file this morning but you weren't here on time. That's a poor way to start with us." The teacher is whisking you inside and up to the front of the class to make your dreaded first introduction before you can protest.
"Class, this is our newest addition. Please make him feel at home...go ahead, introduce yourself now." He smiles at you expectantly. You don't return it, but you mutter your name and where you're from. A few students sound like they're impressed. You're not sure why.
Instead you're scanning the room with hardened eyes, searching for those wanna-be thugs who thought they were so tough. Someone in the back of the room is concealing their face behind a book. That's suspicious. Everyone looks the same in these boring blue uniforms though. Is that one if the guys from today?
"Go ahead and take a seat, then open your textbook to chapter 2, page 13. You'll have some catching up to do."
You make your way to the back of the room. There's an open desk beside Mr. No-face. He can't hide from you if you sit next to him the whole period. Though when you plop down and turn to give this guy your angriest scowl, you're surprised to see the doe-eyed boy from the alley. And what's more he's still shaking. Why is he acting like you were the one who attacked him? You had no interest in harassing someone. You just happen to enjoy delivering karmic retribution when the universe wraps those moments up so perfectly for you.
"Hey," you whisper, trying to get his attention. He flinches, but pretends he didn't hear you. Pft. Okay.
The class is dry and boring. You doodle in the margins of your notebook, writing a word every now and then. On more than one occasion, you catch the boy next to you glancing at what you're writing, but he looks away instantly whenever you look.
When the bell rings students around you stuff their papers and notebooks into their backpacks and head out to the next class. Your teacher approaches, carrying a thick folder of semester assignments.
"We've started a few already; I've marked them with a paperclip. If you work hard, you should be able to catch up to everyone else. Ask someone here to help you. Have you met anyone?"
"Uhh...not exactly," you answer honestly. Those dingalings from earlier hadn't given you their names.
"Ok then. Yoshino! Come here, won't you?" He motions for the waifish boy who had been sitting next to you. He was trying to slip past the two of you unnoticed and failed. He blanches when he turns to face you.
"You'll help him get started with the first assignments we began last week, won't you? Oh, and be sure to show him around the grounds today, ok? So he doesn't get lost or run late again."
The boy stands frozen in place as your teacher walks back to his desk, leaving the two of you to enjoy the pensive silence.
"Well...hello again," you attempt.
He turns tail and bolts from the room as soon as the teacher isn't looking.
You sigh with annoyance.
Maybe he's just too faint of heart for you.
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"Room 141...room 141...fucking hell. I'm going to be late for every class today."
The hallways have emptied out once again, leaving you on your own to navigate the campus. The ink on the paper map the office had printed for you is too thin in certain patches to make out complete directions and classroom locations. Shit! This has to be the worst first day of school you've ever had.
"Excuse me? ExCUSE ME! Young maaan?" A nagging voice of an ornery teacher peaking out of her classroom door gets your attention.
"Where are you supposed to be?"
"Uh...room 141? Traditional art?"
"I thought so. That's this room, come in and take a seat immediately. You're almost fifteen minutes late," she scolds you without even introducing herself.
"Don't expect leniency after your first day here. Be on time. We're working on portraiture. Everyone has already started pairing up, so pick your partner quickly and begin your primary sketch."
Gee, she's a peach.
You amble through the shifting desks being moved across the room and pushed together by other students in the class. Everyone else has been here since the semester started a few weeks ago. They've already formed their friend groups and cliques from the years prior as well, no doubt. Within minutes, everyone has begun their work, silently scribbling and circling shapes onto notebooks of thick drawing paper. No one looks up at you or approaches you. You don't particularly care. Though something else catches your attention. Someone familiar is here.
That Yoshino boy from your last class is sitting across from a girl with long dark hair. She has her back to you, hunched over and sketching crudely. Looking over her shoulder, you see her rudimentary outline of her partner is cruelly cartoonish to say the least. She was particularly emphasizing the darkness of the bruise on his cheek. What a cunt. You tap her on the shoulder.
"Hey, get up."
She turns to look up at you, her nose wrinkling with annoyance.
"I'm sorry?"
"Yeah, I'm sure you are. Now move. You're not sitting here," your tone is deadly serious.
She hesitates, then sees the split in your lip. Maybe this is what finally encourages her to move her ass, knowing you might give her a harder time if she didn't listen. She would be right about that.
Yoshino sits in stunned silence. His dark hair still conceals half his face, but his visable eye is wide with shock.
"Hello again. Again," you say.
More silence from him. His grip tightens around his pencil, you watch his knuckles turn white.
"Whatever. Be that way, Yoshino. But you're still the only one here I know. So I'm gonna draw you. 'Kay?"
He gives only the slightest tremble that could be interpreted as a nod. Good, he gave his consent.
You pull out your own drawing pad and pencil case.
"So, what? I'm drawing you first? Then we switch and I pose?"
He takes a deep breath before speaking. His voice is hushed in a whisper, but innocently sweet.
"That's right. Whenever you finish, we switch. Both portraits are due by Friday. But we have to use three mediums for the final pieces," he explains with growing confidence. He's beginning to see that you're harmless... at least toward him.
"That's doable. Get comfy ok? I'm just doing a rough sketch for now, but I kinda get into my zone when I draw," you explain as you sharpen the tip of your pencil lead by scraping it on the rough underside of the desk. Yoshino gives you another shocked reaction. You wonder briefly if you should draw him that way since you've mostly seen him with those enormous owl eyes. Well, single enormous owl eye. Why did he hide half of his face? Did he have bad acne?
Shrugging it off for now, you begin your sketch, starting with a basic circle. Making sure to use light pressure, you leave a softer outline on the paper. Then halve it, and quarter it with two lines for symmetry purposes. Next is the jawline structure, and the chin. Okay. That's a blank face... Now the ears...
Junpei watches your hand carefully, admiring how easy you make it look. He always struggles with pressing too hard with his pencil, leaving lines too dark to go back and erase later. And forget symmetry. Anyone he tried drawing was sure to end up frog-eyed. His studies your lips as you mumble to yourself.
"Nose here... shade lines there. Ehh, the neck is thin, huh." He stiffens like a statue when your hand reaches towards his face. He flinches, eyes snapping shut on their own. The boy inhales sharply when he feels your fingertips graze along his neck so softly that he breaks out in chills. You brush his bangs away from his face, and see a cluster of round crater shaped scars above his right eye. You know immediately what causes marks like those, and you're filled with regret unexpectedly. That's what he had been hiding under all that hair. And you'd gone and practically touched him where he was most self conscious. You berate yourself silently, returning the dark strands of his hair back where they had been before. You only needed to see his eyes, not his forehead.
Though his eyes are still closed, Junpeis heart is beating like a war drum beneath his ripped and soiled shirt. It's the first time anyone has caressed him in a familiar way. After a second of hiding in the safe darkness behind his eyelids, he finds he is afraid to open them again. Surely you're laughing at him, finding amusement in how he responds to a simple innocent touch. He doesn't want to see the hate in your eyes. Not after the fluttering soft kindness of your touch. He doesn't want you to laugh at him.
"Are you alright?" You whisper to him in a low voice, pulling your hand back. He nods and swallows before responding with a weak, "yep." His chin twitches slightly, then goes still.
You were only trying to see how he looked without his long hair in the way. Poor guy seems frightened by everything. It's no wonder those beta bitches were getting their kicks out of curb stomping a little softie like this. Yoshino didn't look like he couldn't hurt a fly.
You decide to continue on with his eyes closed. You could finish those last. You'd have another day to work on this before it was due anyway. There's no need to rush. You sketch in silence, listening to the steady rise and fall of your classmate's breathing. Eventually you find your rhythm and spiral into your hyperfixation of creating shadows and highlights on the page. It's starting to come together nicely. Glancing back up, you notice that Yoshino hasn't moved a muscle throughout the duration of your time drawing him. It was oddly commendable to remain positioned so perfectly still. Might as well try to build some raport with him.
"You're doing such a great job holding still for me," you whisper again, not wanting to disrupt the serenity of the mood that is settling between the two of you.
"What's that?" he asks, just as quietly.
"I said you're a really good boy."
The words leave your mouth before you could stop them. You had absently reiterated your first thought without stopping to consider how he'd receive it. That was a hell of a thing to say to your model. Did he think so too? You glance back up to check.
His cheeks are as pink as strawberry mochi, and those eyes are still glued shut.
Well, at least he didn't look like he was offended by what you said. But definitely affected in some way. It felt strange to put him on the spot like this, so you apologize awkwardly and try to finish with your first graphite layer. You decide in your head to add charcoal and pastel later on, but you'll need to buy those.
"I'm about done for now, wanna start on me?"
He finally opens his eyes,
"Uh...wow. It looks just like me!" He exclaims.
"Yeah, that's a portrait," you smirk at him. You had chosen to omit the nasty mark on his face from his fight. No sense in reminding him of that again.
"You're really good. Like, a professional," he marvels.
"Pft, only if you paid me for it," you laugh.
He looks inspired now.
"Hey, yeah! After the project is done, maybe I'll buy it from you. My mom would love it I think." He blushes again, suddenly embarrassed at having gushed like that so openly.
"That is...if that's alright with you?"
Oh, my God. He's so adorable. And he loves his mommy. You can't resist the way his pleading eyes lit up when the idea crossed his mind. How could you say no? He has such an angelic smile. You find yourself wondering how often he gets to show it.
"Well, I think you could probably just have it, I won't charge you."
"That's...so nice of you. Thank you so much. And, uh...about this morning?"
"Yeah?" You quirk an eyebrow at him.
"Thank you...for stepping in like you did. Not many people would do that for anyone. Much less a stranger."
"Oh, that was nothing," you begin to protest.
"Not to me, it isn't. I really owe you one for that. Why did you do it by the way? Why take a punch like that for a stranger?"
You pause from tucking away the drawing. You meet his gaze again. A smile spreading across your lips slowly. There's a hazy look of delirious joy in your eyes.
"I...just really love a good fight."
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To be continued...