X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
X
"Alright. I'll be there. I assume I don't need to tell you not to talk to me at school."
Takashi raised his eyebrows. It wasn't like he was planning on going through his day with the intention of avoiding Sato at all costs, but regardless if he wanted to or not, he doubted he would have time to break away from his group of friends to talk to the loner. Admittedly, Takashi was a little miffed at the tone of the other teen's statement; he had been perfectly nice to Sato, and there was no reason for the other teen to hate him. Sure, he did blackmail him . . . but given the circumstances, Takashi could have done a lot worse. He was sure Rina would've been merciless.
"Goodnight," Takashi echoed, his mouth moving more out of reflex than out of genuine care. He hung up only when he heard silence from the other side of the line. Takashi kept the phone clasped lightly in his hand, before he set it down and continued to work.
The school day continued on as always. Takashi hung around with his gaggle of friends, along with the other athletes and popular girls and attractive guys who were in his social circle -- never with people like Sato. He moved through the day, struggling to keep up as always in the classes that were more difficult, though his composed, warm-hearted demeanor never revealed a crack in its pristine shine.
However, during midday, when the barely-there glow of the sun shined directly upon the heads of the people in the courtyard and walkways, Takashi found himself in a position of deja vu. He had fallen slightly behind his friends and Kousuke again, and as his sharp gaze lined up with an enclave between two buildings, Takashi noticed a gaggle of bullies, and a familiar-looking teen being subjected to their relentless punches and strikes. Sato.
Should Takashi help him? Sato didn't even seem like he was a victim, with the slack, almost bored manner in which he allowed himself to get beat up in. Then again, regardless of who Sato was and how he was feeling, Takashi probably should go and help him. He was popular and respected within the school -- as arrogant as it sounded, Takashi had some status, and presumably, if he went to help Sato, then the school would rally behind him, and not the bullies.
Would they really stand by his side, though? Takashi knew he was held up to the heavens by the school's near hero-worship for him, but feelings that sponsored popularity were fragile. Takashi was a fickle string of interest that lingered in people's minds; he hadn't won anyone's heart, and so few in the top rungs of the school's social ladder did. His popularity could so easily slide down the drain if he made the wrong move. One day, he could be worshipped, and the next, he could be shunned.
Sato was a loser anyway, by school terms. He had no friends, no social life, no extracurriculars -- all he was was that basic guy sitting in class, with a perfectly kempt uniform and perfectly neat hair and plain wire-rimmed glasses. As Takashi so eloquently put it, Sato was the plain, mid-toned gray swatch among swathes of bright neons and charming pastels. No one cared about Sato. There was a chance that Takashi saving the other teen would make the color gray trend among the student body, but it was just as possible that Sato's desaturation would infect Takashi, turning his bright, golden sheen into a pale husk of what it was before.
Before Takashi could pull himself out of his reverie to make a solid decision, the bullies left. Takashi lingered on the edges of the scene for a few more moments, his eyes trailing Sato's defeated body, before taking a deep breath and walking off.
Takashi would see Sato that night for tutoring. Hopefully, the other teen understood his difficult position.
Takashi raised his eyebrows. It wasn't like he was planning on going through his day with the intention of avoiding Sato at all costs, but regardless if he wanted to or not, he doubted he would have time to break away from his group of friends to talk to the loner. Admittedly, Takashi was a little miffed at the tone of the other teen's statement; he had been perfectly nice to Sato, and there was no reason for the other teen to hate him. Sure, he did blackmail him . . . but given the circumstances, Takashi could have done a lot worse. He was sure Rina would've been merciless.
"Goodnight," Takashi echoed, his mouth moving more out of reflex than out of genuine care. He hung up only when he heard silence from the other side of the line. Takashi kept the phone clasped lightly in his hand, before he set it down and continued to work.
---
The school day continued on as always. Takashi hung around with his gaggle of friends, along with the other athletes and popular girls and attractive guys who were in his social circle -- never with people like Sato. He moved through the day, struggling to keep up as always in the classes that were more difficult, though his composed, warm-hearted demeanor never revealed a crack in its pristine shine.
However, during midday, when the barely-there glow of the sun shined directly upon the heads of the people in the courtyard and walkways, Takashi found himself in a position of deja vu. He had fallen slightly behind his friends and Kousuke again, and as his sharp gaze lined up with an enclave between two buildings, Takashi noticed a gaggle of bullies, and a familiar-looking teen being subjected to their relentless punches and strikes. Sato.
Should Takashi help him? Sato didn't even seem like he was a victim, with the slack, almost bored manner in which he allowed himself to get beat up in. Then again, regardless of who Sato was and how he was feeling, Takashi probably should go and help him. He was popular and respected within the school -- as arrogant as it sounded, Takashi had some status, and presumably, if he went to help Sato, then the school would rally behind him, and not the bullies.
Would they really stand by his side, though? Takashi knew he was held up to the heavens by the school's near hero-worship for him, but feelings that sponsored popularity were fragile. Takashi was a fickle string of interest that lingered in people's minds; he hadn't won anyone's heart, and so few in the top rungs of the school's social ladder did. His popularity could so easily slide down the drain if he made the wrong move. One day, he could be worshipped, and the next, he could be shunned.
Sato was a loser anyway, by school terms. He had no friends, no social life, no extracurriculars -- all he was was that basic guy sitting in class, with a perfectly kempt uniform and perfectly neat hair and plain wire-rimmed glasses. As Takashi so eloquently put it, Sato was the plain, mid-toned gray swatch among swathes of bright neons and charming pastels. No one cared about Sato. There was a chance that Takashi saving the other teen would make the color gray trend among the student body, but it was just as possible that Sato's desaturation would infect Takashi, turning his bright, golden sheen into a pale husk of what it was before.
Before Takashi could pull himself out of his reverie to make a solid decision, the bullies left. Takashi lingered on the edges of the scene for a few more moments, his eyes trailing Sato's defeated body, before taking a deep breath and walking off.
Takashi would see Sato that night for tutoring. Hopefully, the other teen understood his difficult position.