I somehow manage to make my way through art class without fucking up in any way. No, it’s not like I’m bad at art class, I’m actually one of the best students in my class if I may say so myself - however, I am also quite clumsy and I have succeeded in spilling paintbrush water all over the floor more than once before, which Miss Orland wasn’t too fond of, actually no one was and I was stuck at the classroom after the class had ended just so that I could clean the whole floor.
At the end of the class, I am left with a decent painting in front of me, since we had the time to practice some of the more practical aspects of art today, instead of just discussing the difference between baroque and rococo for all those students in the class that are just a little bit thick-headed.
“Very well, everyone, make sure to read the chapter about Baroque until next time,” Miss Orland tells the class with a steady glare, which pretty much makes half the class gulp in utter terror - including me, because even if I might be one of the best students in the class I’m still terrified of my art teacher.
“Understood, Miss Orland,” the class mutters in response before people start packing their stuff. I sorta hope that I’ll be able to leave school without running into Bacchus and his gang again, though I highly doubt it. The only way I might be able to avoid them would be if I somehow managed to leave class earlier than them, so that I could flee before they caught me.
I sound like a chicken, yes, I’m pathetic, but I do in fact appreciate my face and would like to avoid getting any more scars than I already have. It’s not like I’m skinny, weak and don’t know how to defend myself, it’s just that Bacchus and his gang are six very tall, muscular people, and I don’t stand a chance against them all at once.
“Excuse me?” I hear a girl say, and for some reason she manages to catch my attention almost instantly - mostly because I’m baffled at the fact that someone actually speaks to me without a hint of disgust in their voice.
“Yes?” I reply as soon as I look around just to stand face to face with a familiar, yet alien, face. I know who this girl is - of course I do, I have art class with her - but at the same time I’m confused at the fact that she actually speaks to me. She’s a beautiful girl, not very tall, have a nice figure and a cute face. Her hair is silver with a blue shine to it, her eyes hazel. I know her name, it’s Yukino Agria - one of the populars, which is the main reason I’m utterly confused. Why would a popular even waste their time talking to someone like me?
“I—… I-I would just like to say, that I really think your art is beautiful,” she somehow manages to stutter shyly and I swear that I can see a small hint of a blush on her rather pale cheeks.
“Oh, well… Thanks, I guess?” I mutter with a raised eyebrow, not knowing exactly what to say. Honestly I’m not used to getting compliments about anything, whether it’s my looks, intelligence, behavior or art.
I turn my head a bit to look at the easel in front of the chair I’ve been sitting in for the last two hours. The painting resting on it is what I would call decent, though I know I can do much better if I actually had the time for it, instead of just hurrying through all the techniques I’ve been taught the last three years. I’m in no way self-confident, but I do in fact know that I’m an excellent artist.
“I don’t believe we’ve talked before,” she says with a shy smile as I continue to pack my stuff, not particularly interested in conversing with one of the populars since I am well aware that I will get into trouble if I do something wrong, even though this girl doesn’t seem harmful in any way.
“Mhm, I highly doubt that,” I respond as I pick up my back and swing it over my shoulder. No, we might not have talked before, because she’s a popular, and I’m just plain, boring Scarface.
“My name is Yukino,” she says, even though I’m well aware of her name it’s still nice that she introduces herself somehow.
“I’m Rogue Cheney,” I mumble quietly as I avoid her hazel eyes a little bit. I’m not sure whether I actually want to keep talking to her, or if I should just leave - so much for leaving class fast in order to avoid Bacchus and his gang, huh.
“Nice to meet you, Rogue-sama,” she says with a small giggle, and I must admit I’m now even more baffled than before - what’s with the “-sama”?
“Uhm… Nice… Meeting you too?” I respond as I raise an eyebrow in utter confusion. I’m not sure whether it’s good or bad that Yukino Agria just called me Rogue-sama. She’s a popular so it should be good, right? I’ve even seen her hang around that alpha male Sting Eucliffe, which means she must be one of the closer friends of Sting’s - which is jut an even bigger reason to be nice to her, even though “nice” isn’t exactly one of the words in my dictionary when it comes to strangers.
So much for being bullied for the most of your life, it’s nice building barriers to keep strangers away that might or might not hurt you. Isn’t it?
“Anyway, I’ll have to go,” Yukino says as she picks up her bag with a cheery smile on her lips, “I’ll see you around, Rogue-sama! Bye!” She waves at me with a wide smile on her lips like she just made a new friend though I barely even spoke to her. I just return the gesture with a hesitating wave of my hand without saying anything in return.
Yeah, I’m still amazed at the fact that one of the populars spoke to me, and didn’t even call me Scarface or the like. The most of the populars tend to go with the flow when it comes to calling me nicknames, even though the jocks are without a doubt the worst.
“Oh, fuck, Bacchus,” I hiss under my breath as I look at the clock - it’s past three, meaning he’ll most likely be waiting for me somewhere at campus, and I don’t have time to mentally prepare myself for whatever he has in store for me, so I just quickly look outside the classroom and take in my surroundings; making sure Bacchus and the other jocks aren’t in sight. That’s where I’m kinda glad that they’re tall and muscular - they’re hard to miss.
“Okay, coast is clear,” I mutter for myself before I step out in the hallway and make my way down the hall, headed towards the entrance at the end of it. I hear the usual talking and whispering around me, but that’s nothing new. Apparently I’m a great subject when it comes to gossip and rumors - I’m glad I can help, or not. It amazes me that people are that bad at finding new subjects to talk about, really. How can I still be interesting after almost three years? Hell, none of my friendships lasted that long.
I’m surprised that my older brother hasn’t thrown me out on the street yet, and he’s been putting up with me for nineteen years.
Kudos to him.
I let out a long-drawn sigh as I exit through the gates of the school building and start walking through the school yard, with the exit in sight. I’m by far the only student who hurries away from the school to freedom after yet another day at uni. However, my reason for my steady pace is different from everyone else’s - they don’t have bullies searching for them like I do.
“Hey, Scarface! Where do you think you’re going?!” The loud all too familiar voice yells after me, which just makes me walk even faster than I already do. It’s not like I would be safe as soon as I left the school grounds though - that would just mean that the school couldn’t be held responsible for any damage.
I feel someone grabbing my arm and I’m immediately spun around to face the jocks from earlier - Bacchus and his gang of other jocks, “Did you think you could just leave like that, without saying goodbye, Scarface?” Bacchus asks with a cocky grin on his face, “We’re not done with you just yet. Too bad your teacher wont save you now.”
“Well, I never asked her to save me,” I point out with a low mumbling as I turn my head a bit away from the jocks who seem to be too amused by the fact that I’m completely and utterly helpless against them.
However, there’s something that catches my attention as I hear a laughter coming from quite a bit away, and some people chatting, “Hey, Sting! Heard about that new place downtown? We should totally go check it out later!”
I frown a little bit as I realize that it’s just a group of populars passing by with their alpha male - Sting Eucliffe, the guy that everyone knows who is, the guy all the girls want and all the guys want to be. He’s walking with a guitar on his back, probably on his way to or from band practice, since he is in fact the leader of the school’s band. Yes, he’s probably amazing in his own way, and he is undoubtedly very handsome, but what else does he really have that I don’t, apart from the lack of sarcastic comments and snarky remarks? Hell, he even has a scar across his right eyebrow, yet he’s not the one being called Scarface everywhere he goes.
“I’m sorry, guys, but I got something I need to do later,” Sting says with a small laughter, “We can do it another day, alright?”
“Aw, balls! Then we’ll see you later, bro!” I just stand and watch as the populars split up just before leaving school grounds, and a small part of me actually wonders if they live like normal people - do they eat, sleep and do their homework like the rest of us? What else do they do?
Why am I so curious?
“Scarface, your attention should be here, jerk!” Bacchus cusses at me, and before I even get the chance to move my face back to look at him, I feel a fist colliding with my left cheek causing me to stumble to the ground and drop my bag on the way.
The loud sound of my body hitting the ground echoes throughout the school yard, but no one really seems to care much - it’s become quite common for me to get beaten up at some point of the day.
I turn around on the ground and sit up, holding a hand on the place on my cheek where Bacchus’ fist hit me. I can feel something warm and wet, and as soon as I remove my hand to examine it, I see a drop of red liquid running down one of my fingers. I’m bleeding.
“Aw, is Scarface gonna cry now? Maybe throw a hissy fit?” Bacchus teases, causing his friends to burst out laughing, even though I have never cried in front of them, hell I’ve never even been too upset about anything - I just haven’t cared enough to actually bother with either.
I hear Bacchus cracking his fists as he waits for my reaction to his endlessly annoying words aimed at me. I let out a sigh as I stumble to my feet rather clumsily, before raising my head to look up at the jocks in front of me as I mentally prepare myself for what’s to come.
This is the main reason I haven’t smiled for a very long time.