If They Knew - Bullies!BTT X Suicidal!Reader

If They Knew

Bullies!BTT X Suicidal!Reader

The Spaniard, the Prussian, and the Frenchman sat quietly at their lunch table, for once. As did the rest of the student body.

Nobody spoke. Nobody wanted to. Not even the Teachers.

And nobody wanted to speak with the trio, especially, nor did the three boys think to speak amongst themselves.

The whole school, even the stray cat that sometimes found its way on to beg for scraps was deathly silent, yet everybody was there.

Everybody, with the small exception of one sophomore girl, whom everyone was silent for.

This girl was the outcast. She behaved differently, trying to approach things with an optimistic attitude. Maybe it was because she had been a little to loud, maybe it was because she had always worn a different style of clothing than everyone else, maybe it was the fact that she didn't want a boy in her life that had prompted the Bad Touch Trio to pick on her in the first place.

But this upbeat girl who hadn't seemed to care about the rumours people spread about her...

(Name) (Lastname) had killed herself.

Nobody wanted to accept it.

Not the students, not the teachers, not even the bullies themselves.

But there it was.

They think you're crazy...

They think you're mad...

The girl had been found this morning, hanging by her neck in the gymnasium. The student who found her limp body had burst into tears, and ran away, now being coddled and shushed by her friends.

The Bad Touch Trio however, had no one to turn to but themselves.

They call you stupid, worthless, tell you, "You're not worth it."

And now you're walkin' back

To a place you call home

But you feel so alone...

And right now, they didn't even want to be around each other. They were disgusted with what they had done.

The same hurtful hits...

It's your darker place

In your virgin ears

The remarks they make...

They had only thought it harmless teasing when it had started. A flirty insult to make her blush here and there, maybe a love tap or an affectionate punch, but it quickly spiraled downwards into much more than that.

Affection turned rough, cute punches were no longer so light, taps on the shoulder turned to shoving, flirtatious whisperings turned to insults screamed down the hall, to burn in her brain, make her cry herself to sleep.

But she had gone on as if nothing was happening. Smiling, laughing. Happiness simply radiated off her. Not a soul could've guessed the mental torment she was forced to endure. Or the horrific action she had taken to make it stop.

But if they, if they really knew

All of those things that you do in your room...

If only they had known they would've...

To hide the pain...

Tears pricked at the Spaniard's emerald eyes.

Had she cut?

Drugged herself?

...Worse?

Antonio had never imagined that a face with such a pretty, carefree smile would do such things behind closed doors.

He himself had once walked in on his Italian friend, Lovino, cutting. Blood had spattered the bed sheets, and various razors, pins, scissors, and blades scattered about the room. Gaping, bloody slits lined the Italian's arms, intertwining in a messy web of fading and fresh scars. His eyes had been red and puffy, and he had been crying.

In his own fit of tears, Antonio was able to convince Lovino that his brother wasn't the only one that everyone loved. It was by sheer miracle that the boy was able to recover.

Antonio knew the kind of pain a person could inflict upon themselves... How it killed on the inside and scarred for life.

Why, oh why, had he driven her to that point? Why had he done the very thing that he loathed with all his heart, to a girl whom he hadn't even known?

He buried his tear streaked, miserable face in his hands.

I bet their minds would change, yeah...

I'll bet their minds would change...

The Prussian, for once, found himself speechless. Why had he called her names when he knew exactly how it felt?

When he was younger, the neighborhood bullies called him a vampire because of his pale complexion and red eyes, his albinism, something he couldn't help.

Gilbert had hated it.

He had hated the kids for hurting him, he had hated his parents for giving birth to him, an albino child, and eventually, he had come to hate himself, glaring at his pale reflection in the mirror.

God damn, he had hated his life back then, and if it hadn't been for his ever-supporting, always wanting to help little brother, Ludwig, he may have very well ended his life.

But she didn't have any siblings to comfort her. Not even an awesome pet like Gilbird.

Now, Gilbert could only wish he had been the friend he never had when he was little, just for her. Just for (Name)... But it was to late.

The albino stared solemnly at the table. Not moving. Barely daring to breath.

They'd change... If they knew the pain...

The Frenchman bowed his head, letting his long hair hide the shameful, guilty tears running down his usually so handsome face.

He had sworn to stop people from taking their lives - especially after what his little Canadian brother, Matthew had tried.

Francis could still remember the loud 'Bang' that had resounded through the house like it was Yesterday. Matthew had just returned from his elementary school, and gone straight to his room without saying as much as a polite "Hello.", something rare for the Canadian. Francis remembered the uneasy silence, and the gunshot that had him up from his easy chair and into Matthew's bedroom in seconds. There he stood, holding a trembling, horrified Mattie in his arms, a gun still smoking in the young boy's hand.

Matthew had tried to end his life, and if he hadn't changed his mind at the very last second... Francis couldn't bring himself to think of what would have happened.

Francis had sworn on the spot to do whatever he possibly could to make it so nobody he could get his hands on would ever throw their life away, and what had he done?

Driven a girl who had barely even begun to live to do so.

Francis refused to look at his two best friends. He was absolutely disgusted with himself.

Change...

'Cause I believe... in these scars...

Yes, I believe...

The three of them, French, Prussian, and Spanish, they had worked together to kill a girl. They killed her. Not herself, no she hadn't killed herself. They had pushed her to the brink.

They knew.

They knew to well.

But it was far to late to take it all back.

What had they done?