C O L O R S

P U R P L E

Kris sits at the farthest end of the cafeteria. There, on the table just for him (because no one ever used it since he's decided to make it his), sitting on a ragged, creaking chair. There, near the window, beside the trash bins.

It doesn't bother him though. He prefers to be alone and eat his food all by himself, rather than to interact with those people that are trying to be something they're not just to survive the school's hierarchy. He prefers to stay black than to meddle with people that are trying to matter.

That's why he hates purple.

Purple is all the highfalutin things, engulfing the down-to-earth ones that are just staying around the corner, watching. Purple is the shade of fancy words, spoken to tickle the highest of pride. Purple is the color of the souls of every pretentious people that are trying to seem important, when in fact, they're not.

Unlike Kris.

He knows he's nothing but a thin air to everyone in school, so he stays aloof.

He and his brother always do, to avoid deeper relations with all the fake people in school.

His brother has one friend, and Kris has none. Well, his brother being his friend, too, doesn't count, so none.  But even though they don't interact, people have never gotten near them. They are respected, and it's probably because he and his brother used to bring pride and honor to their school.

Used to.

Now, he simply just doesn't care. His brother is gone so what more can he do? He's always been his strength, and without him, Kris is weaker more than Superman laced with a kryptonite necklace, or Achilles with an arrow shot through his ankle.

Students come in and out of the cafeteria, leaving it in a complete mess. Come and go, people always do that. He has always seen people leave, but no new one has ever come, like the cycle should go.

He folds the wrapper of his eaten burger into four and cleanly toss it on the trash, before hiding his face under his hood once again. He often asks himself why he needs concealing, when in fact, no one even cares if he's somewhere around the corner, or not. But using his hoodie isn't about wanting to come and go unnoticed.

"Man, look who's here!"

It's for the school's notorious demon who's always in his muscle tees and purple hoodie.

Gregory Fernandez.

Amongst all the people of Sonnet High that Kris has been trying to hide from, Gregory seems to have a Kris-radar inside his head of overflowing ego that tells him whenever Kris is somewhere near.

"Haven't seen you in a long while. Thought you were dead!"

Dead.

Gregory's gang of six is quiet for a while and only he laughs about his infamous humor, but then he looks at them sternly and an eruption of laughter soon takes over the halls.

Kris doesn't dare to look at Gregory. He has his head bowed so Gregory won't see how he is biting his lips. He doesn't want Gregory to see that he is afraid.

"Hey, I'm talking to you." Kris flinches every time Gregory will take a step near him, praying that Gregory will just knock it off and walk away instead. "I said, 'I thought you were dead'." Gregory pushes Kris by his shoulder. It's not that hard, but enough to shoot pain not physically, but mentally.

Kris doesn't want to end up always beaten. His cracked up ego has taken enough that it hurts him because as a guy, it's always a big deal. But he can't do anything. His weak, and him fighting back means wishing for his own death.