GHOST GIRL ; scaramouche

III

the next day, when your parents find out you punched someone, they scold you and take away your phone. they didn't even hear you out.

you wait at the station for your train. scaramouche is there too, leaning idly against the wall. you two exchange glances but say nothing.

you want to thank him for defending you yesterday, but that requires going up to him and talking. you really don't feel like it. he probably finds you annoying anyway-

'huh?'

he walks up to you and asks you a question. you panic a little inside, goodness do you hate it when you have to actually have conversations.

"why do you deal with all their shit? if i were you, i wouldn't have it." he asks, nonchalantly. the question seems almost insensitive.

"there's nothing i can do about it.." you respond. the situation is a little awkward.

"have you considered making friends? actually having connections makes people like you more. you don't really have any." he notes.

"i-i have friends!"

"oh yeah? who."

"..."

he just looks at you with an amused expression and neither of you say anything until the train comes. the train arrives and he turns to you again before you both board.

"but.. i gotta admit. you punching him was pretty fucking funny."

"oh. thanks?"

nothing is said after that point. but sometimes, words aren't needed. enough is said through the little looks you give each other throughout the train journey to school.

maybe only because of him, but there was something that made the day feel different.

//

you did your usual thing of pretending you don't exist throughout the day.

until, at lunch when you carried your food, someone pushed you from behind and made you drop all of your food.

"that's for punching my boyfriend." she says in a hushed tone, passive-aggressively before walking away as if nothing ever happened.

you can feel their stares in your back as you get up. tears sting at your eyes, but to lessen the already heavy emotional damage, you try to not humiliate yourself further and keep it all in.

you walk away to the toilet to clean up any mess you had gotten onto your clothes. The girls gossiping in the toilets giggle a little as you enter and make way for you.

you fix up your clothes and as you exit the toilet, scaramouche is waiting outside. he wordlessly hands you a wrapped sandwich you think he got from a vending machine.

this time, you manage to say a thank you before he leaves. you'll repay him when you take the train back. you eat the sandwich quickly before your next class.

//

when you're at the train station, you pulled out a few dollars from your pocket to give to him for payment, but he declines it.

"keep your money. i have enough of my own."

a little rude, you think. but kind nonetheless. you put your money back. the sun is bluer than before, with the summer heat increasing pretty much every day.

you don't have your phone with you anymore, so you look idly at the tracks, eyes almost in a trance. they were almost inviting, to jump off and be freed of your empty life.

scaramouche isn't a social genius who can read everyone like a book. but he couldn't help but notice how your gaze lingered on the tracks for a little longer than it should have.

whatever that meant, he wasn't too sure.