Take My Hand | KNJ ONE-SHOTS & IMAGINES

Good Man

You keep your head down as you walk to class, hoping that your hair will provide enough cover against the tears that are fighting their way down your cheeks, agitating the bruise that is beginning to form on the skin there.

He put his hands on you again. There's another student—a boy, who has taken a liking to you in the worst-possible way. Every time he sees you in the halls, or the gym, or the parking lot, or anywhere he can get away with it, really; he has to touch you. It's like you're a walking magnet for his fists.

You can confidently say that this abuse is unwarranted. You're a new student, after all. Not to mention the new semester just started two weeks ago. God, what did you do to deserve this?! You've considered going to the principal to complain, but you've held off for fear of making the situation even worse.

Ahh, fuck, your face hurts...! Okay, you know what? Fuck it. You're skipping your next class. You'd rather not have to explain the reason why your face is in such a sorry state. Besides, what if it gives other students ideas? Oh hell no.

You immediately spin on your heel to head in the opposite direction. As you're hurrying away, you plow into another student. Your heart skips wildly as you scramble out of the way, murmuring a low "sorry". You head up to the roof, praying that the door's unlocked. The door knob easily turns for you; thank God.

But, when you open the door, you see that someone else has already beaten you. They're sitting on the edge of the roof, their back to you. You silently curse this intruder, throwing your head back in exasperation. Great. You wanted to be alone. Maybe if you keep your distance, they won't notice you. You close the door as quietly as you can, finally feeling the weight on your shoulders start to ease. You let out a breath, reaching for your phone, eager to drown your sorrows out with your favorite song.

However, as soon as you press play and the beat floods through your ears, you feel a tap on your shoulder. "Excuse me, would you—" When you turn toward the male voice, the words seem to die in his throat. You look up at him, already bracing yourself for a hit or a shove. His face twists, and you shut your eyes, fully prepared for him to attack you. But he doesn't. "Are you okay?" he asks. "Your face..." He reaches a hand out to touch you and you flinch. "Did somebody hurt you?"

The tears start flowing before you can stop them. You swipe at your eyes, wincing as your fingers brush against the bruise on your skin. "Just— If you're gonna do it, make it quick, okay?"

"Do what?" the boy asks. "You think I'm gonna hurt you? Who did that to your face?"

"Does it matter?" you snap back. "You'll just make things worse. Why do you care anyway?"

The boy freezes, his mouth opening and closing. Truthfully, he's trying to redeem himself for a similar situation that he was involved in last year, but he can't let the new kid know about his past. This is his chance at a fresh start. "Look," he says after a moment. "I know it's none of my business, but I just don't think anyone should be pushed around." He looks into your face and hisses. "Aish... That doesn't look good at all."

"Yeah, thanks for pointing that out," you mutter. "At least he didn't smack my head into the wall this time..." Your hand absently strays to the bump on the side of your head; thankfully, it seems like the bump is going away.

"He?" the boy says. "What's his name?"

"I don't know," you reply. "He hasn't taken the time to properly introduce himself before putting his hands on me. But I'll be sure to ask him next time."

The boy smirks. "You have to know what he looks like though, right, smart-ass?"

"Oh yeah." you grimace. "Poor guy could shatter mirrors. Maybe that's why he's so pissed."