The corridor was quiet.
Simon liked it, when the corridors were quiet. When no annoying students were rushing around, shouting and shoving. He probably shouldn't feel as much at peace as he did right now, sitting in front of his teacher's office, waiting to be invited inside.
He knew he'd have to face the consequences of his actions sooner or later and honestly, he was glad he was sitting here now and not sometime in the afternoon, risking to miss his meeting with Finn.
His foot tapped against the metal leg of the chair he was sat on, the shoe's sole rubbing against the pleasantly smooth surface.
He watched the raindrops slide down the window opposite him.
Simon liked rain. Always had.
He loved the scent of wet earth, the sound of the drops and the dark colours of the sky. Sometimes he even enjoyed some thunder grumbles.
His gaze followed as one of the water drops slid down over the glass and merged together with some other, smaller droplets on its way. He imagined it must be like eating to grow stronger and bigger.
His foot stopped its tapping as soon as his ears picked up the footsteps inside the office that had started approaching the door. His shoulders tensed slightly to brace himself for the voice he'd hear in a few moments.
Simon didn't like voices.
He hated it, when someone spoke to him out of the blue. When he wasn't prepared.
It felt like far too many stimuli crashing down on him, drowning out his own thoughts and feelings, leaving him helpless and confused.
He didn't understand what people were saying either. If someone spoke to him without him being at least a bit prepared, he'd just hear some sort of scrambled gibberish. Maybe he'd be able to pick out some words, if he got really lucky. But God forbid he actually understood the sentences thrown at him.
In those situations, Simon wanted to hide. He didn't want to come across as dumb just because he couldn't understand what someone said. Didn't want to come across as weird because he got overstimulated by a fucking voice.
He sighed and shook his head, clearing his mind and silencing his thoughts to focus, as he heard the door open behind him.
He looked up.
It helped to look at the people he spoke to. Made it easier to get accustomed to the noises they'd produce sooner or later.
The boy he'd fought against yesterday walked out the office, glaring at him for a moment, before turning and leaving down the corridor.
Simon didn't know his name. Didn't bother to find out either. He'd seen the boy a few times before. Hanging out with his friends, making comments about other students. Simon had never minded it.
Quite frankly, he had better stuff to do than to care about what gossip some jerk let loose in front of his mates.
He'd only lost control when he'd watched the boy make sexual comments about a group of freshmen girls that looked way younger than they probably were.
Simon had felt his mind shut down, his body switching to auto pilot.
He could deal with a lot of things. Jokes about pedophilia and rape weren't amongst those things.
He didn't think his reaction was inappropriate. He didn't regret punching that dick in the face. Didn't regret biting him, when he'd tried to put Simon in a headlock.
He wasn't proud of losing control like that, but he didn't regret it.
He glanced back at the door and saw the teacher stepping out, preparing himself for the man's voice.
YOU ARE READING
He was a punk - He wrote poetry
Historia Corta»He was there again. Like he had been every evening for the past two weeks. The boy on the shore. That's what Finn called him, at least.« It all starts with the boy Finn notices coming to the skatepark every evening to watch the sunset. It all st...
