Ruinous Warmth

The distant murmur of people approaching slowly grows as his hand presses one last time against the back of his head before inspecting it, a hint of iron in the air as he keeps it close to his face. It feels like its stopped...

The aggravated boy descended the stairs, passing an increasing mass of students climbing through and moving his gaze from his palm to the walls beside him. He had made a beeline for the watering fountain near the restrooms after leaving the balcony. He knew it was honestly stupid of him(what a surprise), but the usual ritual of clearing his face of any evidence of turmoil with water was higher on his priority list than doing anything about the small bleeding spot on the back of his head, even as he walked while applying pressure on it in hopes it would stop faster.

Rounding the corner, he saw the door to Echoed Voice’s class open, devoid of people. Little late, shithead. His brow furrowed slightly at not only that, but the potential for his teacher to give him shit over it(unfortunately doubtful), and the chance someone had taken either of his self-designated spots on the back corners of class as well. More than that, however, his heart quivered as he sped his pace up, dreading whatever may come after that intensely vulnerable moment with the girl. How insensitive of you to emphasize that word, jackass. Then again, that didn’t seem to affect your dick’s reaction, now did it? His slouch curving further inwards in an attempt to pull back his hips, thoughts of a possible remaining stiffness needling him.

Going through the door, he felt some of the irritation drain as most of the class hadn’t even sit down yet, Voice just now unlocking the drawer on his desk. Without breaking pace, he kept his gaze low as he pushed through the still-standing students. His rushed movement to claim his seat backfires, however, as his large bag clips a bottle of water on its way through. Feeling the collision before the bottle even hits the ground, he grabs the bulging bag close as he turns around, its inertia pulling roughly on his shoulder. Although thankfully the bottle was sealed, avoiding any mess it could’ve made, a moment’s glance up froze him on the spot. He is greeted by the silencing of a voice, and then a borderline neutral expression from resident archer Pizzelle, if not for a slight twitch of the eyebrows. And here it comes.

Apologize. Pick up the bottle. DO SOMETHING. REACT, YOU INCONCEIVABLE MORON.

The girl with the blonde bunned hair leans over to pick up her displaced refreshment, Trailing Point already backing away with a mumbled “Shit, sorr...” The incomplete word only serving to highlight how the apology was to be unheard as Pizzelle continued where she left off with Silverspeed, the small trip-up already forgotten as if it had never even occurred in the first place. That’s never stopped you, though. Because you’re absurdly incapable of basic tasks, but when it comes to writhing in ‘pain’, you’re right on that shit, aren’t you?

Finally reaching the empty corner seat, he roughly pulls it back so it stands closer to the back wall, before dropping his bag beside it. His head burns and his back chills as he hurriedly pulls out his materials, as well as a black notebook he slides under the large English workbook. That ridiculous little diary filled with your pathetic bitching and horrid attempts at imagery, if we’re skipping the pages and pages of psychotic cacography that is, you fucking useless mess of a person.

Can you just chill for a fucking minute? At least until the day is over and we’re home so we can fucking... Stew on just how much garbage I am without risking making a fucking scene?

Considering I am you, meaning I both am an immense idiot and also wish you would cease to breathe forever, how about you eat a fucking dick you piece of shit? No, really, even if its just your unusable brain feeling things that aren’t there, seems to me deep down you really want to gargle on some cock, you little bitch! Sitting down and hoping his usual cold poker face is well in place after that little bottle incident, he leans the chair back so it rests on the back wall. I bet you actually think you look cool like this, you poser.

Eat shit and die already. Yeah, I wish we would.

The noise of a chair’s legs skidding on the floor catches his attention. He looks to see Stormfeather pushing back Sprinkle Medley, chuckling in victory as they playfully struggle over the seat. “Come on, get up!” ”No way!” ”Come on, man!” ”I beat you fair and square, deal with it!” ”Don’t be a dick!” ”You don’t be a dick!” Oh gods would you just shut up and sit down already for fuck’s sake! Wow, jealous much? Fuck off!

A stern glance from their professor followed by the awkward silence of the class stops the pair in their play. A pair of soft apologies are let out as the jade-haired girl turns to the seat behind Stormfeather. The mild blush in her face drains as she pauses for a moment when she makes eye contact with Point. With a very unconvincing smile, her eyes dart away from his to the side as she makes for her seat quickly. Echoed Voice stares at her for a few more seconds before he gets off his desk with a huff, clipboard in hand.

“Alright, well, if you’re ALL seated, I’ll take attendance while you pull out the TEXTBOOK and WORKBOOK both. APPLE SPLIT?...” At this point, the boy basically painted in the corner would’ve started tuning the class out, waiting to raise his hand when called as his last interaction of the day. He would, if he didn’t see his classmate ahead nervously sneak a glance back at him, twice in a row now. If she thinks she’s discreet, she’s miserably failing at it. Aw, she’s imitating you.

“...COMPASS STAR?”

“Here.”

“FLUTTERSHY?” The name stands out, despite the loner’s best efforts to turn any thought of the girl into part of the negative maelstrom he’s used to. Not to say he wasn’t starting to sink back into dreading the consequences of their little moment upon remembering her, of course not, but a certain lightness persists in his heart when he thinks about it anyway.

A lightness that manages to become its own separate brand of sinking weight when he finally realizes she hadn’t been in class the whole time. “...Alright, ABSENT. GOLDENGRAPE?” Where... Where did she go? She vanished, before anything could be said, and... Isn’t it obvious?

She realized who you were. The usual response to finding someone crying like a fucking baby is to try and help them. Yes, that is what you do with people. But that’s not you, me, us, all of us, is it? You are not a person. You don’t even come close to making the minimum fucking standard. She understands that, so when she saw your putrid face, of COURSE she fucking bolted! Poor thing’s probably retching her organs out for ever being touched by such a grotesque fiend! Never fucking forget, idiot, you’re nothing but blight and malevolence misshapen into the vague figure of a person, and all you’re capable of doing is ailing, hurting and stealing from everyone in your presence, by your presence.

...h...

There was no retort to be made. That small point of worry for her was being taken full advantage of, and he could practically feel himself squeezing his lungs empty as he somehow managed to even now summon more rage and despair over himself, and started losing it again. His flat expression was beginning to crack, and his baleful gaze slowly weakened. Looking forwards, he barely recognizes Sprinkle’s eyes on him. The eyes of someone disgusted by his existence as they tried to hide their deep unease at being forced to sit so close to him. His ears selectively mute and enhance sounds to give his self-immolating pyre more fuel.

“-SPEED? There you are. SPRINKLE MEDLEY?”

With one last glance back, the girl stands back up. “Here, sir! Also, can I please go to the bathroom super quick?”

Echoed Voice’s brow furrows. “WHAT have I TOLD you, TIME and TIME again?” Sprinkle Medley is pushed a little by the booming voice, but isn’t deterred.

“I know, and I’m really sorry, but I really, really need to go! I promise I’ll be on pace with the class before the end of the day!” There was a convincing tinge of urgency in her voice, but you’d have to be even more of an infinitely moronic ignoramus than you already are to believe it has anything to do with bladder emergencies. Its probably closer to being fear and terror at being around you.

The man’s green eyes stare into her for a few more seconds, before with a frustrated sigh and roll of the eyes, he waves towards the door. “Fine. But you WON’T make a habit of it. REMEMBER this next time I DENY you exit.”

Bounding off in a hurry, a rushed ‘ThanksalotMr.Voice!’ is left in the air as she swings the door open, then slams it back closed in a show of desperation. There’s little room for it to really land, as the educator continues on. “STORMFEATHER?”

“Hi.”

“TRAILING POINT?” His hand automatically goes up, although the twitching of his hand brings him unease toward his facade. So, in summation, fucking bet Sprinkle just did the same and got the hell out of dodge just to get away from you, you horrid turd. You know, just in case you needed a second opinion on what the best course of action when dealing with you is.

“TWILIGHT SKY?” His mind begins to recede and tune out the world around him. So how long do you think you have left? The jig is most likely up, after all. Once Fluttershy speaks to a counselor or a teacher, or gods forbid her friends, they’re not going to leave you alone. From then on its just a matter of time before you break. What’s it gonna be? Will you have a massive freak-out in public, cementing your state as fucking insane for the rest of your most-likely short life? Or will you finally get the courage to take responsibility for your existence and end yourself quietly into the night before anyone can intervene? Will you at least free these poor people from you and leave forever? Either way, the pain you will feel will be entirely deserved, so its not like it’ll make much of a difference. Ge-

He lets go of his white-knuckled grip on the desk’s edge as the sound of the classroom’s door opening draws him out of his internal flogging. He looks up, and besides the notes on the whiteboard he didn’t see the professor make, there she was. Relief sneaks through his body at her image. The voice reminds him this means little, and that it is still very likely she’s just going to report him to the proper staff eventually, but he can somehow muffle the words into the back of his mind with her visage in focus.

This does not last long however, as he realizes their professor is pressing her on her tardiness without mercy. Seeing her shrink towards the door frame had him renew his grip on the desk in restraint, as well as invigorated the voice back in reaction to himself. Oh what, are you actually feeling protective of her, you fucking joke? Let’s just go past the fact that you can’t do jack-diddly-shit for her, and get to the real issue; What fucking entitlement are you already feeling of her? She hugged you once, now you get rabid when the teacher rightly admonishes her for being late? Get over yourself you fucking child. You’re nothing to her, and she’s absolutely NOTHING of yours. Don’t try to act like this is some righteous feeling. You want to white knight for her to get close to her! You disgusting piece of trash!

That was effective in neutering his spike of rage, swiveling it around to aim it at himself. Incapable of disagreeing with, well, himself on how immaturely volatile he was being, the tenseness in his arms partially drooped in defeat. A waste of time and sanity in the end, as he saw her step past Echoed Voice, looking at the class. He saw her look at the seats around him, and her growing unrest just echoed to how much disgust he felt coming from Sprinkle when she ran.

Finally, her eyes locked onto his. While the urge to look away rapidly built, he almost hoped she could understand his thoughts in that one moment, if for nothing else but the penance involved. I’m sorry you have to deal with me. No one deserves that.

Just do as I sadly can’t, and please forget about my existence. It’s for the best.

He turned to the wall as he felt the waterworks attempting to start up. Pushing them down with the plentiful anger he had, he fought to try and keep from anything spilling out. An emotion, a tear, even a slightly louder breath. Nothing must come out. You’re just the angry asshole in the corner, as usual. Nothing deeper. Come on.

Vaguely registering her movement closer as she went to the one free desk in the room, the one beside him, he placed his gaze on his unopened books as control came back to him. Well, over his mask, at least, as he felt the urge to look to her again take over him slowly. Opening his text book, he shifted his sight towards the floor to his right. From that view, he started to shift his focus to try and see with only the edge of his vision, towards her. You’re really disgusting.

The reprimand almost make him shake. It's endless with you, isn't it? You can't spend a single fucking second without being absolute trash, can you? He rested his face on his right hand to try and block her from his perverse eyes, and opened the black notebook, although he really had no desire to vomit out any of the torrent of destructive emotions he was currently cycling through into paper. Facing him was one of the more raging pages where his writing quickly lost form into nothing more than forceful swipes and streaks that barely resembled letters. The page had a few holes in it from some particularly strong pen-jabs, and was a little more damaged than the book's overall rough state from the harsh treatment. On the next page, aside from marks from the previous page, something vaguely recognizable as a person was depicted, screaming with black ink running from their face. Oh I'm sorry, I forgot that shit was you, it's just so hard to tell from how stupidly shaky your bitch of an arm is!

Despite the unending cascade of hate inside him, he felt the mask stabilize outwardly anyway. Something laughable about that being his normal state of mind, if it wasn't so pathetic. Still, poking out like a buoy in that black sea, however, was worry and confusion towards that girl. Her presence gave him an unexplained sense of peace, but the meaning behind that presence only caused him an even deeper feeling of unrest at his core. Why is she just, there? Why isn't she saying anything? Yeah, unexplained, sure. Any opinions on that, doctor dick?

He realized the threats his body was making to him at that. Just from the continued presence of her in his proximity, he couldn't forget the feelings and, most importantly, the silence he experienced in her embrace. His blood heated as well, and veered on the edge of making his emotions visible from beyond the mask's reach. He could only hope time would speed up towards the end, whether it be of the day or of his life, he didn't care which. It was all he could do as he barely held his composure together. His mind once more managed to retire the punishing rage at himself thanks to her, but only so it could be battered by panic and fear this time. He could not get the thoughts of her out.

I won't last like this.