Title: Allotted Design.
Pairing: None as of yet; some to come; most all involving Envy.
Rating: Currently standing at 18, probably, for language and violence.
Plot: Bullied for his obvious difference, Envy abandons all hope of fitting in, and drops out of High School. Deciding that she's had enough, Dante ships her two sons off to a preparatory school.
I wasn't through the graffiti littered doors before I could hear the taunting cat calls and accusing whispers. Only a couple of months ago a rumor had circled the school that I'd given the student intern in one of my classes a blow job so he would bring up the mark of a failed test, and ever since then the student body of BHS would suck their fingers suggestively when I passed, or slipped me notes during class asking for sexual favors. To them it was all in good fun, but to the student intern and me, it was uncalled for. He'd transferred to another school in the city soon after word got around, but I was left to suffer under the taunting due to lack of transportation to the other school, though I'm sure everyone there knew about it too.
A crumpled picture of my face photo shopped onto the body of a nude, crying boy was lewdly taped to my locker, with school whore scribbled with Sharpie on the side. I tore it down, as I had done with the many before it, and threw it over my shoulder, then gathered my books.
"Hello Envy!" I cringed, anticipating another round of oral abuse, until a pair of plushy, warm arms wrapped themselves around my middle and I was lifted from the floor.
"Whoa, careful there, Gluttony!" My armful of books slipped and scattered at the base of his feet. He carefully lowered me until my feet hit the floor, and then ducked down to retrieve my books. I'd never understood how one of his extremely large size could so gracefully drop down to fetch something, and so quickly get up.
"Books are back!" A smile spread across his broad face, holding the texts out for me.
"Thank you, darling." Shoving them into my backpack, I motioned for him to follow me towards our first period class, luckily taken together. The large boy lumbered on behind me, completely oblivious to the looks of disgust of our misunderstood relationship, surely believing I only spent time with him because I had no one other.
Though that could be considered a portion of the reason, as he'd done quite well protecting and defending me before, and I genuinely did consider Gluttony to be a good friend, and a great guy. Although a man of few words, his eyes seemed to hold a great understanding of all that went on around him, and he'd never let that, nor his size or constant rejection stop him from trying to make new friends. Many skittered away whenever he came near, having heard stories of how he often bit the arms of anyone who crossed him.
Even the teacher, Mr. McDougal, seemed to duck his eyes to the surface of his desk when we entered the class, even though he most often greeted the rest of the students with a smile. I'd long given up trying to make friends with most of my teachers, who had also heard the rumors about the student intern and me, and left them all to their misconceptions.
As the rest of the students slowly filed into the classroom, most chatting on cell phones or text messaging a friend, Gluttony and I found our usual seats at the back of the room and I began to prepare my binder and pens.
Mr. McDougal rose from his chair, groaning with age almost as old as the hardwood desk he stood behind, and began through the list of names, checking them off as each answered with 'here'.
"Stacey Bartlett?"
"Present!"
Check.
"Monica Calentine?"
"Here, Mr. McDougal."
Check.
"Envy Culus?"
Someone towards the front of the classroom coughed, and muttered faggot; the rest of the class laughed, while the teacher only peered over the edge of his paper, thick glasses catching a reflection from the window.
"Here." I said quietly, erecting a certain finger in hopes to establish an understanding with those who looked back.
"Envy hungry?" Gluttony hovered over me with a tray stacked high with food.
"Oh, no, I'm fine." I smiled, sliding down the bench a bit to make room for him, and then continued scratching a figure into the table's surface.
A group of jocks huddled around the allotted popular table erupted in laughter when an opened container of milk landed bull's eye in front of me, splattering me in the foul, white substance.
Gluttony dropped his hand to his lap, hotdog hanging limply from his mouth, "Envy okay?"
"No, I'm not fucking okay!" All the years of bullying; the pranks and the beatings, I was tired of it. Unable to hold in my anger and hatred any longer, I erupted with a dramatic shriek, and lunged across the room in a seeming single step, tackling the head honcho.
With sudden and surprising strength, I landed on top of the burly football player, and without hesitation began to pound my clenched fists into his face. I hated him. I hated them all! I hated them for bulling me, for beating me, for making my life a living hell and turning me into what I am!
I didn't notice the group of people swarming around us as I continued bringing my fists down, over and over, into his face. I didn't notice the blood growing in quantity, pooling around his eyes and dripping from my fingers.
I didn't notice the two teachers dragging me off the guy, still shrieking and kicking.
I didn't even notice the handfuls of my own hair being torn out, and other members of the football cult trying to get a piece of me.
But boy, did I notice the anger and hatred that seemed to ooze from every and all of Dante's pores; all of it for me.
She gave me the beating of my life that night; there were several cuts inflicted by her nails across my face and shoulders that I'm almost sure will scar, and the bruises across my torso and thighs seem to map the portions of her life that I'd wasted.