A/N: This chapter has content warnings for homophobia, xenophobia, bullying, panic attacks and strong language.

'…and you see, he has only 1,000 attack points, but if you play him on defence, you can use the special fire powers, so that gives you an extra 50 health and 500 defence power.'

I was sitting next to the football pitch, perched up on the maybe chest-high wall that surrounded it. Opposite me sat some younger student by the name of Leon and listened as I explained the rules of Mythomagic to him, fascination written on his face. It was a Saturday afternoon and I was in my element.

'And this here is Hades, I don't have the figurine, sadly, but he has 4,000 attack and 5,000 if the opponent attacks first.

I put the Hephaestus card aside and reached for the next one when a voice from behind us had me frozen, hand in the air halfway to the stack of cards.

'Still playing with those tin soldiers of yours, Mario?'

I clenched my fist. 'They're not tin soldiers, Anthony. And my name is Nico.'

The older boy strolled closer. 'Whatever you say, kiddo. Do they all love children's toys so much in Italia?' He did the worst possible fake Italian accent, as if his mockery hadn't been clear enough already.

'Go away.'

He turned to the boy next to me. 'Why you spending time with this loser?' His nasty grin widened. 'Have we caught ourself a little boyfriend here, di Angelo? Does he want your spaghetti in his penne, is that it, you little f—?'

My face burnt up, even though oddly enough, the breeze seemed to have picked up and the air had gotten more chilling than was appropriate for an October afternoon. Anthony faked a laugh about his own joke, visibly pleased with the way it riled me up.

'Look at that, di Angelo is a homo', he continued.

'Am not', I forced out, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to overwhelm me. Next to us, Leon silently slid off the wall and hurried away, towards the school.

The air was decidedly too cold now, and I thought I'd felt the distant vibration of an earthquake. I hurried to put my cards and figurines into my pockets as the wind picked up and almost dropped the Ares figurine.

Anthony frowned and pulled his coat closer, now visibly shivering as the air grew cold enough for his breath to condense.

'Whatever. Why don't you just fuck off and go back to mafia country, you little freak.' He showed an ugly grin. 'Don't even speak our language properly, do you, amigo?'

I was too shaken up to point out that 'amigo' was not even Italian. I couldn't even muster a glare as I jumped off the wall and ran away, his laughter haunting me as I turned the corner of the building. I bit my tongue until he was out of sight before I finally allowed myself to cry, when I was short of breath and leaning against the wall of the PE building.

And cry I did. I was grateful for the first few drops of rain hitting me, disguising the tears that freely ran down my face and left a bitter, salty taste on my lips before being washed away. The temperature must have dropped well below 50° and within minutes, I was soaking wet, but oddly enough, the cold didn't even bother me.

Eventually, I dragged myself towards the back wall of the gym. There was a side entrance, for the teachers, with a little roof above the door. I dropped to the floor, more or less curled up, and sobbed.

It had been just words. But as I lay there, they kept repeating over and over in my head. I knew he was wrong, that I wasn't all the words he'd called me, but I was terrified that he might tell someone. Even if he was wrong, someone might believe him.

I didn't even let myself think that he might have been right, but if I had, it would have been even worse. Unimaginable.

I don't know how long it was that I was there. My fingers were freezing and my clothes were soaked, but I barely noticed, clenching my jaw in a desperate attempt to silence the whimpers that shook me. Still, the despair wrangled its way out of me, and if my vision hadn't been blurry with tears, I could have seen the plants around me wilt and die, one by one. Only slowly I regained control of my breathing and fumbled around in my pockets for any trace of a dry tissue. I came up empty and eventually wiped away the tears and snot with my sleeves.

The tears and the rain had both subsided long ago by the time I heard footsteps and voices approach. I tried to breathe as quietly as possible—technically, I was supposed to be in any of the recreational areas, certainly not here—and, after carefully listening, could make out the voices of Ms Michaud, the school secretary, and Mr Grimes.

I slid up against the gym back door, hoping the melt into the shadows like a ninja, or maybe one of the people from the movies. Being caught on the PE grounds outside lessons would be bad enough, but even more so, I didn't want to have to see the look of disappointment on Grimes' face if I would get caught. He had a way of doubling your confidence and making you try your best, knowing he'd be proud of you, like a father would be when you'd bring home good grades.

I knew it was merely wishful thinking, but I felt as if maybe the shadows did grow thicker and darker. I did my best to suspend my breathing and prayed to whatever deity was willing to listen that I would go undiscovered.

'Yes, of course, I'll talk to Mrs Libby, she'll get the forms ready for you. What did you say was the name?'

That was the secretary. Mrs Libby was the principal, but I had not seen her in person since my and Bia's first day at Westover.

'Webbs, Martin Webbs.' And that was Mr Grimes speaking. 'A really bright young man, if I have ever had any one student deserving of a scholarship, it's that one, and I'm sure Theresa's letter of recommendation could help him tremendously.'

A brief pause.

'I'll see to it. But, Edward, if I may ask, why did you come to me with this? I understand these things usually go through Severin Thorn.'

'Ah, yes.' Grimes voice took on a more quiet, almost conspirational tone. 'It's… it's nothing. Really, it's by all means petty. I just… I had the feeling that our dear colleague Thorn harbours some, how would I put it, some dislike of me. You see, I didn't want to compromise poor Webbs' chances on the scholarship just because yours truly has fallen from grace with Severin.'

'Yes, of course.' I couldn't see the secretary's reaction. 'Don't worry, I'll take the matter to Mrs Libby's office on Monday.'

'Thank you very much indeed, Michelle.'

'Oh, don't mention it, Ed. But should we go back inside? It's gotten a little chill.'

I dared breathe out a sigh of relief. And sucked it right back in the very next moment, when Mr Grimes said 'why don't you go ahead? I must have forgotten my notebook in the gym yesterday, I was on the way here when I happened to bump into you.'

So much for going undiscovered. I glanced around for any means of escape, but towards my right, a fence barred the way and to my left, around the corner, the two were still talking.

'…you on Monday then', Ms Michaud was just saying. 'Good afternoon, Edward.'

'Likewise, Michelle.'

Her steps became distant and I heard clothes rustling and then the telltale sound of a lighter as Mr Grimes pulled out and lit a cigarette. Then the footsteps came closer, and—

'Oh?'

—he turned around the corner. I was so screwed.

'Would you mind sharing what you are doing here, Mr di Angelo?'

I looked down at my shoes. Anywhere but his face.

'Nothing, sir.'

He sighed and I risked a quick glance, scared of the betrayed or disappointed look I might find there.

'Mr di Angelo, I—good Lord, what happened?'

'I don't know what you mean, sir.'

'Oh, don't try that on me, son. Have you been crying?'

I swallowed and already felt the familiar sting of more tears in my eyes. I blinked and wiped them away.

'No, sir.'

He stared, unimpressed, and something prompted me to amend my words to a 'maybe?'

He nodded and sighed again. 'How about we get you inside', he gestured towards where the school towered, beyond the gym, 'and you tell me what happened to you?'

'Your notebook, sir.'

I felt dumb right after saying it. See, you don't go around telling teachers that you listened in on their conversation. Even if to remind them they've forgotten what they've come for. But fortunately for me, Mr Grimes didn't seem to mind.

'Ah, right.' He inhaled a last breath of the cigarette and threw it down and crushed it under his heel. 'If you would let me in then?'

I realised I had been blocking the door and stepped aside. He fumbled with his keys and unlocked the door, stepped inside, and motioned for me to follow. The usual mix of sweat and dust welcomed us and I fell in step next to him as he strode towards the equipment room.

'I didn't know you smoked', I said, desperate to fill the awkward silence. My words echoed from the walls. 'Sir', I added. He smiled, somewhat embarrassed.

'Ah, everybody needs to wallow in vice, occasionally, I guess.'

'Not regularly, of course', he assured me, 'but the odd smoke every now and then… my doctor said it's never too late to stop, so I guess I needn't hurry.'

He threw his coat over a high bar and disappeared between a box of rugby balls and a stack of mats.

'Now, if you don't mind, what, ahem, seems to be the matter that troubles you?'

I briefly considered making up some excuse. But then again, what did it matter? He seemed to genuinely care.

'I, uh, was over by the pitch', I began, voice cracking as the scene I had tried to forget played again in front of my eyes.

'And was someone else there?'

'L—' I began and cut myself off. 'Yeah, there was.'

I swallowed and tried to keep the tears from returning.

'We were just talking and then A—then another person came and', I swallowed, 'they—they made fun of me.'

He poked his head out between two cabinets. 'There wouldn't happen to be a pointer stick or something similar over there?'

'Scusi what?'

He smiled apologetically. 'Well, I found my notebook, but I need something to get it out from under this shelf here.'

'Oh.' I looked around and found a tennis racquet, which I handed him. He disappeared back between the gymnastic apparatuses and, at last, returned with a little book. He picked up his coat and slid the notebook into his pocket.

'Now, please continue.'

'Uhm, he—they—I mean, he mocked me. Because of', I nervously fiddled with my hands, 'because of my game.'

He frowned. 'Ah, I remember. The, what was it, Myths and Magic?'

'Mythomagic', I corrected him. 'Yeah.'

I didn't mention the other, unspeakable things that had been said, but I wasn't lucky, or maybe my face gave me away.

'And was that all, Mr di Angelo?'

I nodded, hardly convincing, but I couldn't talk about it. Not this. I barely even wanted to think about it, let alone speak it out loud. Thankfully, Grimes didn't prod.

'I should've fought', I whispered, more to myself than to him. 'I—I should've said something, not run away.'

We left the gym and he locked it behind us. The gravel crunched beneath our feet as we headed back towards the school. I felt a single tear leave my eye and quickly wiped it away. Shortly before we reached the building, Mr Grimes coughed.

'I don't think it's quite my place to give you advice, Mr di Angelo, but if it's any consolation to you', he seemed to search for words, 'fighting isn't always the answer. Sometimes, oftentimes, letting things go is the better solution. The virtues of a gentleman, or so they say: strong in times of need, considerate when appropriate, stoic when suffering.'

He hesitated before adding 'and occasionally, running away is the wisest choice one can make. Now, of course I don't want to imply that you did run away, but there is nothing, ahem, inherently dishonourable about running.'

I frowned, more confused than comforted by his words, but nodded nevertheless.

'Thank you, sir.'

'Don't mention it. Now, run along, Mr di Angelo. Enjoy your weekend, and I'll see you in class.'

A/N: Long wait, oopsie. On the bright side, I finally done did it. Posting now already even though I haven't done chapter 4 yet so the wait won't be any longer.