B was perched in the windowsill slowly eating his jam, his tired eyes on patrol as the streets around the orphanage came to life. It was eight by now and people were rushing by, going in and out of cars and shops… everyone was so alive, B thought. He watched all the red numbers and names hovering above their heads. They all blurred together, there were too many people. It was giving him a massive headache.

"I still don't understand." He thought to himself, tapping his index finger on his lips.

B was not an idiot. He knew by now, after eleven whole years of living, that the numbers meant the amount of time the person had left to live. He had seen too much death already to have not figured that out. But he didn't care about other people's lifespans. He cared about his own, clearly, and every time he looked in the mirror, the numbers never appeared above his head. Just a pale face and red eyes staring back at him.

This frustrated B to no end, and he thought it was quite stupid. What was the point of having to see these things then? What was the point of possessing these eyes? It was like some kind of sick torture.

"Quite stupid..." He murmured to himself before a scream drew him out of his thoughts.

B turned to where the scream had come from, the bathroom, and watched as a horrified A stomped towards him. "B!" He yelled. "Why is there blood all over the bathroom?!" B smirked, and thought back to K's bloody nose the night before. After she'd fallen asleep he had placed her back in her own bed.

A noticed how amused B looked, and started shaking him by his shoulders. "This is not funny B!" He shoved him away, and A landed hard on the floor with a thud. "Don't touch me." B growled. He continued eating his jam and glared at A, disgusting him even more. "B s-stop looking at me like that! Now will you just-" A was trying to cover it up with anger, but B knew he was creeping him out.

He didn't blink, and A began to get nervous as B's red eyes bore into his. "What is wrong with you?!" A shouted as B continued to eye him. No answer, still.

"Um…A?"

K stood in the doorway, blood stains still on her shirt. "It was me; I had a bloody nose last night." She rubbed her eyes. "Oh." A said fixing his glasses and looking at B in slight embarrassment, who then returned his glance with a dark smile. He picked himself off of the floor and scratched his head awkwardly. "I'll just use the… spare bathroom…" He mumbled, walking past K and out of the room.

B went back to looking out the window.

K walked over and sat with him. "Why didn't you tell A it was me?" She said as B pressed his forehead to the glass. He was silent for a while, then answered. "I like making A's skin crawl." He said with a grin. She giggled.

…

"B."

He was staring out the window again, just thinking. A gurgling sound erupted from his gut. B rubbed his growling stomach and sighed. Maybe he should've eaten more jam for breakfast.

"Backup."

His head snapped in the direction of the voice, and he cringed at the nickname. He hated that name.

"What?" "I asked you a question." The other five children stared at B, waiting for his response.

They sat in wooden desks in the small room that was used as a classroom, a black board at the front with an analog clock above it. He stared at the complicated problem written on the board, a problem he could've solved easily, and shrugged with a smirk. "I don't know."

Roger Ruvie, their teacher, sighed loudly. Mr. Ruvie was a friend of Wammy's and helped run the orphanage. B wasn't very fond of the old man, and enjoyed getting on his nerves. Roger shook his head in disapproval. "I would expect more from you, Backup." B winced at the name again, and the smile faded from his face. He stared at the old man's numbers.

"He's so old." B thought.

"Yeah, Backup." A ball of paper hit B in the back of the head. "Freak." K, who was seated beside Beyond, frowned at the comment. "You could at least come up with something a little more original." B thought to himself, a menacing smile returning to his lips.

"Does anyone else know the answer?" Roger asked, ignoring X's rude comments. "Yes, A?"

"The answer is 7." said A, effortlessly, who had raised his hand almost immediately.

"Thank you." B rolled his eyes.

X, unhappy with B's usual indifferent response, turned his attention to K. "Are you a baby?" He barked at her. "Only babies suck their thumbs, if you didn't know." K shrank in her seat slipping her thumb out of her mouth. "And why's there blood on your shirt? Did Backup stab you or something?"

"Leave her alone, X."

"What was that, freak?"

Roger sighed inwardly and handed out a ditto before dismissing the class. "This is due tomorrow promptly."

As B got up to leave, X grabbed ahold of his arm. "Hey I'm talking to y-" B turned to look at X, and glared at him. "Don't touch me." He snapped, shoving him away. X shoved him back. "You're an idiot." He said. B got close to his face, staring at him with piercing red eyes. X swallowed hard, unease showing on his face. "And you're a waste of flesh." B snarled before exiting the room.

…

B dragged the blade across his skin slowly, deep enough to draw blood but not enough to cause too much bleeding. He looked down at his arm and sighed, not happy with his results. He drew the blade across his skin again, deeper this time, and bit the inside of his mouth. He closed his eyes and thought.

Backup. Ugh. If B heard that name again he was probably going to chop his whole arm off.

X was such an asshole, not to mention extremely immature. B had done nothing to make X hate him so much. B had already had enough people be unnecessarily cruel to him in his life. He wanted to act like it didn't get to him but it did.

All he had to do was look at someone and they would hate him, and his defense from the people who hated him was to creep them out with a stare or something. No one liked B. Well, K seemed to like him. He suddenly couldn't remember why he was doing this to himself.

B inhaled sharply, he cut too deep. He put the razor on the counter and looked at himself in the mirror. He noticed the bloodstains were gone. Someone must have cleaned them. He looked down at his arm at the beads of blood forming on his skin. He wiped them away with his sleeve and began to pick at his previous cuts, which were beginning to get infected.

There was a knock at the door and B froze momentarily. "What." He kept picking at his scabs. "Beyond, it's me." It was K. He smiled to himself. "She called me Beyond." He thought. "Hold on." He said, putting the razor between his lips, cleaning the blood off. He grabbed some gauze out of the cabinet and wrapped his arm, then pulled his sleeve back down. He hid his razor and unlocked the door.

K was standing there, wearing a different colored shirt. One without bloodstains on it. "Hi." B said, looking at her with a blank face. "Are you okay?" She asked, disregarding his greeting. He continued to stare at her.

Freak. That was the most common insult B received. He'd heard it so many times that it didn't bother him that much anymore, but it still kind of hurt.

"Yeah I'm fine."