What am I doing? I don't even know why I wrote this... ;-;
(I apologize beforehand for all the cursing. There's quite a bit in this chapter. D:)
"A transfer student?"
Blaine's friends nodded. "Yeah. He's moving into our class today. You wouldn't believe the rumors floating around about him…"
"I heard he was a giant with dark hair and a bad attitude."
"I've heard he's a hit man for the mafia!"
"Sounds dangerous," Blaine said sarcastically, only half interested, as he scratched the band-aid on his cheek. He had stopped believing these sorts of things long ago. Someone in the school always thought it would be funny to start a little rumor about the new transfer student, and eventually it would become something like this. Really. What kind of high-school student was a hit man for the mafia?
His friends began a heated discussion with each other about it, and he turned to the window. The district was dark again today. An island had drifted over it, blocking the sun. It had been that way for about a week now. No one ever knew how long it would last.
But the city had plenty of bright, neon lights to illuminate it, and many of the citizens preferred it this way. They were like vampires, Blaine thought as he scratched his bandage again.
But he didn't mind it either, really. He liked the glow of the lights in the darkness, though he couldn't name why. It was probably because he grew up with it. He had lived in this city his entire life.
The classroom door slid open, and the teacher strolled into the room, the door sliding shut again behind him. He put his papers down on his desk and addressed the class. "Okay, okay. In your seats, everybody."
The class moved slowly to their desks, catching last bits of conversation with their friends. Then their attention was locked on the teacher, eager to find out about the new kid. Everyone was looking at him, everyone except for Blaine, who was still watching the people in the city street outside.
"You probably already know, but there's a new student in our class today," the teacher said, turning to the door. "You can come in now."
Once again the door opened, and Blaine's eyes moved to it. His mouth slowly became agape.
A giant was bowing ever so slightly to get in through the doorway.
He was muscular, but just enough not to be unattractively lean. His dark hair lay messily on his head, giving the impression he hadn't bothered to brush it this morning. His expression looked lazy, and rather bored. He yawned and walked over to the teacher. He towered over the older man.
A stunned silence had claimed the class. The teacher sighed and typed on the keyboard on his desk. The words appeared on the monitor board behind him. "Spencer Armstrong."
"This is your new classmate, Armstrong. Go ahead, introduce yourself." The silence vanished as whispers made their way throughout the classroom.
The new kid spoke. His voice was surprisingly smooth. "Yo. I'm Spence," he told them halfheartedly.
The teacher looked for an empty desk. "There's a seat in front of Pierce over there," he pointed out.
Oh dear god, thought Blaine, why's he got to sit in front of me?
Armstrong nodded, and sat down. Blaine could no longer see the board.
The class went by normally after that, except for the ache Blaine had acquired from craning his neck around Armstrong to see the board. And the whispers and giggles of the surrounding girls, who seemed quite excited about this "Spence" kid.
Blaine couldn't really see why. Yeah, he stood out a little with his outrageous height, and maybe he wasn't bad looking, but they didn't even know him. So far, he seemed to be a pretty boring guy. Blaine could tell he was falling asleep the entire class.
Armstrong ate lunch in the cafeteria circled by girls. The boys sat in smaller groups as far from him as possible, eying him jealously, a dark aura hung above their heads. Blaine noticed he had ordered huge amounts of food, and managed to eat it all before the bell rang. Where does all that go…? he thought.
The end of the school day went the same as the beginning, but after what seemed like forever, it was over. Blaine packed his bag and went home.
The city street was still bustling with people. Blaine walked slowly. He was in no hurry. It wasn't like there was anyone waiting for him at home. I should probably stop at the store and buy some milk…
Blaine looked around. A few dingy looking guys walked out of the alley he was walking past. "You got any spare cash? I need to buy a pack of cigs…"
One of them wrapped his arm around Blaine's neck. "Yeah, yeah. I could use a little money, boy."
Blaine glared at them. "You reek of alcohol," he said point blank.
"Huh? What was that, punk?"
"Look, we're asking nicely here…" The man with the arm around Blaine's neck tightened his grip and dragged him into the alleyway a bit. "But we don't have to."
"Get off of me, asshat!" Blaine yelled, fighting against the man's grip.
"Oh, aggressive one, aren't you?" said the one who had first spoken.
"But you're really just a pretty little wimp." One of them punched Blaine in stomach. He gasped, and the one holding him let him fall to the ground. "Give us your money."
"No! Earn it yourselves, you lazy bastards!"
"Shut up, you little son of a bitch!" One of them kicked him, and the others joined in. They managed to kick him a few times before a deep voice interrupted them.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?"
They looked up, and so did Blaine. There stood a giant, towering over them all. It took the thugs a while to recover from surprise. "W-what's it to you? You his boyfriend or something?" one of them said, trying to sound tough.
"What would you do if I was?" Blaine twitched. He's not denying it? Asshole. "You gonna try to fight me?"
"I-Is that a challenge?" said the first one, somewhat loudly, "That would be three against one, you know…"
"So? You think you can beat me?" Armstrong cracked his knuckles. The thugs looked at him, then at each other, then back at him.
"W-We'll remember this, bastard!" The leader yelled as they ran away.
As Armstrong watched them leave, Blaine couldn't take his eyes off him. He was so strong, so…
He turned his head to look at Blaine, his eyes stern.
Then his serious expression vanished as he took in and let out a great breath dramatically.
"Ohmygawd, I was so scared!"
What was Blaine doing here? Why had accepted this guys invitation into his house?
Armstrong's excuse had been that his apartment was closer, and that Blaine should probably get his wounds treated right away. It's just a few bruises, Blaine thought bitterly, it's not like I'm not used to it. But Armstrong put ice on the worst of them, saying that it would be difficult walking home like that.
The apartment was empty except for them. It was pretty average and somewhat messy, with books, magazines and papers covering every flat surface except the floor. Blaine had a strong desire to clean everything up.
Blaine was sitting at the kitchen table, Armstrong wrapping bandages around a bruise on his ankle that had started to bleed.
"So, you're Pierce-san, right? The kid I sit in front of in class?"
Blaine nodded. "Blaine. Blaine Pierce."
"Right right. That was scary, though, huh? I hate violence. It scares the heck out me!" Blaine remained silent. There's no way this guy can be a hit man. Seriously.
"Hey, Pierce-san. I wonder, can I ask you a question?"
"Why didn't you run away from those thugs?" Blaine, who had been avoiding Armstrong's gaze for a while now, looked up. The dark-haired boy's serious expression had returned.
"That's none of your business."
"Maybe. You a masochist or something? You want to get beaten up?" Blaine glared at him.
"Why do you care?" Armstrong shrugged. Blaine paused, and then looked away.
"…It's because I'm tired of running away. I'm tired of being weak."
For a moment there was silence, Blaine's words settling like dust onto the floor.
"But letting yourself get beaten up isn't going to make you stronger, is it?"
Blaine's eyes widened in surprise. What Armstrong had said… yes, he had known it all along. But now, so obvious, so pure, so simple, and having them said to him like this…
He began to cry.
Armstrong jumped in terror. "Ah! I'm sorry! Did I say something wrong? Did I do something? Sorry, sorry!"
Blaine shook his head, but couldn't explain it. He stood up. "Sorry. I have to go now." He grabbed his bag, put on his shoes, and moved to open the door.
A huge hand kept it shut. "Uh… just be careful, alright? This isn't a very forgiving city, you know…"
Blaine didn't know why he smiled, his eyes still glossy with tears. There was just something about this guy. Something he couldn't put in words. "Yeah. I know."
Armstrong lifted his hand from the door, and Blaine was gone.
Armstrong stood there for a while, staring at the door.
Then he went to make dinner.