Gazing down at the unfilled worksheets spread across your table, your mind replays the memories of a peaceful time—before you'd began middle school, before the pressure of trying to fit in with others, before, well, life, decided, in a random spur of the moment, it doesn't care about you as much—you wish you'd savoured the taste of freedom a while longer. Repeatedly biting down on your pencil, the wet, earthy taste lingers on your tongue.
School is no longer daunting to attend.
The holidays arrive, and suddenly, a weight lifts itself from your shoulders. Months pass by fast; a memory of the first time you ever spoke up, the first time you fought, and the first time you truly felt like a worthy person. People would ignore you as usual, but they wouldn't forget to throw a dirty look or two. And there isn't anything you can do about it. You can't change your looks, strength, or wealth.
Having to attend an elitist school, meant for only the richest children, hurts. It isn't easy for those who get in for the sole purpose of welfare equality.
You're reminded of the fact everyday.
But, it isn't as bad anymore. And you quite like it.
Creases line your under eyes, though they aren't a dark shade at all. In fact, the sun reflects them. Duke tells you over and over, he loves it when you laugh. He says his earth revolves around you, and he can't help but smile when looking in your direction. His cheeks are always a blushed brown, and you know he's being honest. Your heart beats a bit, just a bit faster. And it's so easy, he makes you feel like the only girl in the world. The point of your existence isn't a question anymore; Duke loves to tell you.
"[Name], my grandma wants you to come over today," Duke says happily. He grins. It makes the classroom light up.
Your hand darts to cover your mouth, flustered at the sight. The impact results in a loud sound which silences your classmates. Some glare at you for the interruption, whilst others give blinks of surprise.
Duke seems the most concerned. He raises a hand to your face, uncovering the bottom half.
You avert your eyes for an instance, meeting him in a flustered stare. "Well then?"
Duke's eyes widen a bit, and he takes a step back. He exclaims, "Sorry! You don't have to come— I'll just tell her you were busy..."
His immediate response is to tremble, almost urging you to take action. He bows his head towards you. It reminds you of his need to surrender any, and all, self respect he has at the expense of pleasing others. You don't like it. You don't like it, because he hasn't don't anything wrong. He's your friend. Why should one friend feel inferior towards the other? Why should he bow his head towards you?
Snickers play comedically in the background.
You're annoyed. Not at him, no, even if the world pit you against each other, you'd never be mad at him. A glare gets them to mind their own business, but you don't miss the brief ups and downs that size you up.
"Don't apologise," you mumble out, "I didn't mean it like that. I meant it in a, 'let's get going' way."
"Oh," Duke gasps. His face relaxes. "Okay!"
A blaring sound rings out. It's time to go home.
You stand up from the wooden chair and outstretch a hand. He gives you a confused stare, his cheeks turning a flush velvet.
"Come on," you say with a cheer, wearing a small, sunny smile to gently urge him.
He still doesn't grab your hand. It isn't his fault. You notice the weird little things thrown at the both of you. Pieces of paper. Leftover gum. Pencil shavings.
YOU ARE READING
Endless solo of solitude | Lookism various x reader
Fanfiction"You're always so sad," he says, his eyes closing. She takes a moment before saying, "I know." "Why?" he asks simply. "I don't know," she whispers, "I really don't." Lookism various x Female reader. Most love interests listed in tags.
