and in the middle of my chaos there was you // LloydxFem!Reader

#3: In Which You Get Answers

Lloyd tossed his bag to the floor beside his desk, and began taking out his notebook, and his homework. His homework which he barely finished in time.

The teacher of the class wandered in, clasping his hands in front of him. "Good afternoon everyone!" The class mumbled a chorus of pleasantries back. "I know-"

The door to the classroom opened, showing a sickly figure in its frame. His seatmate. Y/n. Her face was thin and looked dead, her eyes were bloodshot, and she was wearing a long sleeve shirt that was way too warm for April.

She snapped out of her daze, wandering to her seat, barely managing to not fall over. Why had she still come in this condition? Why did he care? She was just like the others, constantly mean to him. Maybe he cared because of how scared she looked on that rooftop, how she trembled in panic. How it made him realize how others were still human. It also weirdly made him realize how pretty she was.

"Very nice of your tardy presence to interrupt me, Peterson. Now class, as I was saying.. I know we have not all been completing our homework, so I believe this to be the perfect opportunity for a pop quiz! Isn't that exciting!" The teacher continued, earning a groan from the entire class.

Lloyd knew for a fact he didn't have to be in this class. He minded his own business, and was a pretty good student. He also knew he was in this class for being a 'distraction', because of who is father was.

Pressing his name through the graphite, and onto the paper, he began looking over the few questions.

And he knew every single answer.

You had no idea what any of the answers on this pop quiz were.

Wincing as you lifted up your arm, you put your head on it, scanning over the paper again. The bruise had spread, the entirety of your arms were now a sickening green-blue-black color, starting a bit below your shoulders, and ending a bit before your wrist. And it was draining you.

You didn't have anyone to call absent or sick from school for you, and you already had too many absences. So you had to push through. Gnawing the inside of your cheek, you squeezed the pencil in your hand, messily writing the chicken scratch you called handwriting, slowly forming your name at the top of the page.

With another quiet groan, you began not working, but staring at the first problem. You didn't know how to do it, and you had completely forgotten any tip that might've helped you.

Jesus, you couldn't focus with this lights. You felt dead, and you had some weird condition on your arms, but it's not like you could go to the hospital, what money did you have to spend? And Google definitely didn't help, you were pretty sure you did not have the black plague... Pretty sure...

Glancing up to the front of the room, you studied the clock, trying to figure out the time. How had it already been 25 minutes? You had no time left, it was only 15 minutes until the end of class. Sighing, you covered your eyes with your palms, trying to ignore the sweat threatening to drip down your arms. It was way too hot to be wearing long sleeves, but you couldn't just come in school with giant bruises like that.

Then someone tapped you. What did he want? 

Glancing over, he wasn't looking at you, instead, his eyes were trained on his name of his paper. A soft tapping noise sounded on the desk. A gloved finger twitched at the corner of the paper, where there was a list of numbers lightly written. Why was he giving you answers? Was he making fun of you?

Did you have a choice to just ignore it?

Nope.

You raised your pencil back up and scribbled the answers down on the included line, having a few minutes left before the bell rang.  Handing it to the teacher, he studied it, before simply nodding.

Grabbing your stuff, you shoved it back into your bag, shaking with every movement. You just had to make it to home. Thats all you had to do. With a shivering sigh, you went to leave, but you almost ran into the tall figure in your way. Lloyd Garmadon.

"Are you... Okay?"

Refusing to meet his eyes, you nodded. "I'm fine. I- You didn't- Thanks. For the answers."

He simply nodded, turning to leave, before stopping again. "If you do ever need help. I'm always available if you wanted help-"

"I'm fine. Just- leave me alone. Again, it was nice, but just leave me alone, Garmadon." You grumbled, pushing past him, wincing at the pressure from the contact.

Watching her leave, Lloyd's stomach lurched. She was like everybody. He never saw her with anybody else, and assumed she was like himself, nobody else liking her. And he had hoped she might've wanted to be a part of his small group of loners who found each other.

Clearly, he was wrong. But he wasn't wrong for what he said. Lloyd did genuinely hope she was alright. His whole thing was making sure people were okay. Well, that was what he wished his whole thing was.

Sitting in the bus, he counted to three, and glanced over, watching the whole bus now moved onto the other side. It was his favorite magic trick, seeing how much everyone hated him just for existing.

He stretched across the table, sighing. "..I'm so selfish." Lloyd had just dumped his entire thoughts to Zane, who had somehow gotten glasses and a notepad balanced on his flat, scarred face.

"Are you certain it is that hard to find the person you are speaking about?" He questioned, tilting his head to the side.

Lloyd frowned, glancing up. "What do you mean? I pushed a bunch of people out of the way, and I beat up a bunch of guys with my fists after my sword got hit away."

A brow raised on the older teen's forehead. "Yet your gloves?"

Glancing back and forth, Lloyd's brow scrunched. "What about my gloves? I wore them to hide the bruises but-"

"I mean, without the gloves? Did you not realize it had to be skin-to-skin contact? Surely there was not many occurrences where you did not have your gloves?"

Zane was right. There was only one time he wasn't wearing his gloves that night.

When he was calming his desk partner from having a panic attack. When he saved Y/n from being hit by a car.

Y/n was his soulmate.

And his stomach lurched.