𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲 | 𝐦. 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐨𝐧

one.

michael went quietly through the school day, only speaking if spoken to by a teacher. the same as every other day. he hardly paid attention so the teachers didn't have much reason to speak to him anyways. the only answer they could pry out of him would be an incoherent mumble. he barely uttered more than a sentence each day. he did his best not to talk to teachers and he absolutely avoided talking to other students. they never had anything nice to say. class time and passing period were the worst.

lunch was his favorite time of the day. that's when everyone left him alone. he always found a secluded area and no one really bothered him. no one ever could find him. he was just running away from his problems, essentially. when the bell rang and released him from his mid-day class, he was speeding down the halls. he avoided all the piercing glares and pushed open the doors leading to the tables outside. he walked past every table and bolted to one of the trees out of the way from everyone. he dropped his backpack from his shoulders and leaned it against the tree before sitting down. he rested against the trunk, laying his head back and feeling the texture of the bark press into his skin. he stretched one of his legs out but had the other lifted, bent at the knee, and rested his arm over the top of it. michael sat in silence, squeezing his eyes shut and drowning himself in the darkness behind his eyelids. he found it to be his only form of relief to cope with the torment. taking deep breaths and relaxing in the darkness. just by looking at him, you could tell he was going through stuff. more than any teenager should ever go through. there was a permanent frown on his face, dark bags under his eyes, and his cheeks were stained with tears.

"it was an accident," he said to no one in particular. just to comfort himself. the words he had needed to hear for a long time. a bit of relief washed over him and he sighed. he knew he would never hear these words from anyone but himself, but at least one person knew it was an accident. that was what mattered to him. just hearing it felt like he was letting out a breath he had been holding for far too long. it was almost liberating. almost. "yeah, an accident," he repeated as he hung his head, slowly opening his eyes and looking down at the grass. he saw a pair of shoes step up to him out of the corner of his eye but he didn't look up. he was waiting. he didn't know who this person was but he knew what to expect. or at least he thought he did.

"what are you doing?" your voice rang in his ears and he soaked up your playful, light tone. "talking to yourself?" michael tilted his head back to look up at you. he was waiting for you to say something terrible to him. no one had treated him with basic decency in months. this was a nice change of pace. he examined your animated expression and took in every detail, your bright and curious eyes, the smile that played on your lips, the way one of your brows slightly quirked up. he could tell by looking at you that you didn’t mean any harm; he had gotten way too good at reading people.

"maybe. what does it matter to you?" he asked and sat up, putting both his hands on the ground to push himself up so he could sit up straight. "gonna make fun of me for it or something?" he said, his tone a bit harsh.

"course not," you sat next to michael, examining his face along with the rest of him now that you were closer. you had talked to michael before but you assumed he wouldn't remember. he hadn't been all there the last few weeks. the last few months. he was quiet. you never saw him talking to anyone. he was always alone. he was never seen with his friend group of hooligans anymore. he wasn't his usual, mischievous self. 

looking at him now, he was taller than you. judging by how long his legs and torso were, you assumed he was around 5'10. he had brown hair that was cut into a fluffy mullet, the hair on the back of his head just barely passing the collar of his shirt and the front going down a bit past his eyebrows. he had deep, gorgeous blue eyes that you could look into and admire all day. his skin was slightly tanned and his cheeks were sunburned as if he spent all his hours outside. he had soft, friendly features. a soft jawline, droopy eyes, full lips, round cheeks, and a hooked nose. his nose was the most noticeable feature of his face but you thought it suited him. you liked that his nose was different. your gaze fell from his face as you looked down at his attire. he was wearing a gray, stained tank top and baggy ripped jeans along with some beat-up converse that looked like they had seen better days. you looked at the exposed parts of his arms, thighs, and calves to see they were littered with bruises and scabs. he looked beat up. you felt a ping of pity for the poor kid. he just seemed lonely. he had bandaids over the cuts on his arms and face. he was just stained with his own blood. it was a sad sight. you were sure he didn't deserve whatever had happened to him. 

"no? do you not know who i am?" he was surprised. he thought everyone knew. it certainly wasn’t a secret. he couldn't go anywhere without hearing about it. points and stares. whispers and gasps. snickers and giggles. he'd seen it all. like in a cliche coming-of-age movie where michael was the main character going through some sort of crisis. it wasn't fun. being the main character fucking sucks. 

"your name is michael, isn't it?" you asked and chuckled. "of course i know you, dummy. we did a history project together not too long ago. maybe a week or two ago. don't you remember?" you asked with a frown. you pressed your finger against your cheek and traced the trail of a tear. you were joking of course. it's not like you expected him to remember. 

"a week or two ago?" he repeated back to you and thought about it. he didn't realize he wasn't paying any attention at all. he was just trying to tune everything out. apparently, he was doing better than he thought. "i don't remember. i’m sorry," he said sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. 

"well let me re-introduce myself then!!" you said enthusiastically and sat up straight as a board. you pulled your bag onto your lap and grabbed a brown paper bag from the contents of your backpack. the bag held the lunch that your mom had packed for you this morning. you thought you should share as some sort of friendly gesture. "i’m y/n," you said sweetly as you pulled a plastic bag of cheez-its out of your lunch bag and offered it to michael. 

"sorry for not remembering you," he said softly and took the cheez-its from you with a slight nod as a thank you. he opened the small foil bag and popped one into his mouth. it tasted like heaven. he hadn't been eating a lot recently, seeing as he would just throw it up later. he appreciated the gesture. he thought it was sweet of you.

"that's alright," you said, pulling a ham and cheese sandwich out of your bag. "you're quiet," you said, simply making an observation. 

"oh, i’m just not sure what to say. no one has really talked to me in months, i guess," he ate his cheez-its in silence for a short moment. "not nicely at least." 

you hummed in response, unsure of what to say. you wanted to ask why but the traumatized and hurt look on his face told you he didn't wanna talk about it. "well then i can be the one you talk to," you suggested and smiled. 

"thanks," he said, still not showing any emotion on his face. 

you hummed an enthusiastic 'mhm' before starting to eat. the two of you sat in comfortable silence and ate your food. you weren't sure what to say to him but michael didn't wanna talk anyways. he liked having company that wasn't his own thoughts. his thoughts were usually deafening but at this moment they were calm. he was content, just unsure how to express it. he didn't smile but his expression was calmer and less traumatized. 

when the lunch bell rang, you gathered the trash from your food and stood up. you shoved all the trash into the paper bag and crumpled it into a ball. you waited patiently for michael, holding the straps of your backpack and bouncing back and forth on your feet from ball to heel. michael took his time gathering his things, slowly putting his backpack straps over his shoulders before walking with you to the doors of the school building.

"what class do you have?" you questioned and looked over at him. "i'll walk you, if you'd like," you suggested and nudged michael with your elbow. 

"i'd like that," he said, his eyes lighting up. still no smile though. you nodded and followed him to his class. michael couldn't help but notice people pointing at you, turning their heads, using their hands to cover their mouths and whisper to each other. he knew they were talking about you but you were oblivious to it. he cleared his throat and stopped in front of a class that wasn't his. "this is my class," he lied so everyone would stop pointing at you. he didn’t want you to go through the same shit he was going through. 

"alrighty! i'll walk you again tomorrow, yeah?" you smiled and turned on your heel to walk away. 

"oh, you don't have-" before he could finish his sentence you were off and walking to your class. he huffed and frowned. it's fine. you'll stop talking to him eventually. he walked to his class, alone, and went back to his usual. drowning everything out. only a couple more periods to get through until the end of the day.