Endless solo of solitude | Lookism various x reader

Endless waltz.

The world itself is beautiful. A sight for sore eyes, really.

Better than anyone else, you know this. Tapping a finger to your chin, you gaze out of the window. Classmates keep chatting too loud for comfort; ears tingling from all the sound, you sink deeper into your seat, wishing you could leave the suffocating room already. You spot a bird flying past, nestling on a nearby branch, as her beak carries new food for her babies. If only humans were that kind with one another. Maybe then, would respect be mutual amongst the different classes? While you've never been on the receiving end of your classmates' physical torment, you've always been a bystander to their cruel words.

Unlike the others, you don't come from a family blessed with wealth—you come from a family blessed with warmth and love (many of them don't experience that, you're aware). In hindsight, it's more than enough for you. You aren't the greedy type who enjoys flexing your status above others, but a small part of you, deep down, wishes you could fit in amongst them.

Despite this, you make a vow. You're nine when you realise the world isn't black and white; you're twelve when you realise your role in this so-called, colourful earth is nothing more than the useless background character no one bothers remembering.

The odds are against you. Surely.

Even so, you'll choose to be a medium for the ways in which people have been wronged.

Sighing softly, your hand falls from your chin as your cheek slams down onto the table. Weeks full of sleepless nights aren't exactly pleasant... but, what's life without some misery and pain? The sounds get louder. Laughing, teasing, mocking. You close your eyes and wish you could disappear. Of course, you can't spring up into action and defend others simply because you want to. You've tried before. It never ends well. You're reminded time and time again, you aren't worth anything.

The principal tells you it's for the best you quiet down, and your homeroom teacher is reprimanded for involving herself in situations where she's not needed. As if it isn't her job to ensure fairness in the school environment.

Well, you should expect as much.

All these trust-fund babies fund the school; they're what keep it 'elite'.

If it's you versus them, you'll never win. That's why you need to get stronger, you need to climb the ranks and become someone they're afraid of hurting.

Kicking your legs around, you hum, slippers slapping against the ground. You wonder if you could get away with taking a quick nap. No one is paying you any mind. Shoulders loosening, your head sways. The fat framing your eye-bags is evident, vision blurry with the remnants of sleep.

New gossip has spread around the school lately... calling you a slut, calling you a whore. Rumours say they'd seen you out with multiple men and that you're easy. It did bother you at first, but then you decided let them think what they want. It isn't true anyway. You haven't even held hands with a boy in a romantic manner yet. People like to lie and lie and lie. For attention, you assume.

Dried out tears stain your skin—you wish you'd been stronger, but crying is still human, isn't it?

Their words hurt. Even if you aren't seriously bothered by them.

Someone like her? Are you sure? She isn't all that.

Don't you believe it? Men would go for anyone these days, ha ha!

Palms clammy, your lips press together with a frown. They're mean. So mean. You aren't an adult yet, you're barely a middle schooler. They're saying you aren't all that, but you never claimed you were.