Random Sanders Sides Stuff

Horrible Kids

TW:Self-harm, extreme bullying, a brief fight, schools ignorance of said bullying, anxiety, brief mentions of depression, let me know if I missed any
Human AU

Virgil wasn't a very outspoken kid, he spent most of his time in Sailor High just listening to music, it was the best way to tune out the horrible names he was being called. Everyone would shout at him, insulting him just for the way he dressed, for the few trends he tried to follow, only find they had already passed, he was bullied for doing pretty much anything. He was depressed and anxious, yet no one knew that. He self-harmed, carving words like "freak" and "unwanted", "kill yourself" and "nightmare" onto his arm. He believed every bad word anyone said about him, and he hated himself more than anyone else did. The school was blissfully unaware that any bullying happened at all, and prided itself on being the most friendly to all students. Virgil never said anything, but each day he slowly broke more and more.

Virgil's P.O.V.
I walk up to one of the flyers, ignoring the surprised and loathing looks of everyone around me. I pretend not to care as I sign my name, I'm already fully prepared for my act in the school talent show. The problem is, with such a big school not everyone would be able to see the stage, so they were positioning cameras and would show the act on the giant screen behind the person, like in a concert or on a TV show. I sigh, putting my headphones back on and continuing on my way to class. I try not to meet anyone's eye as I get closer, I manage to get within five feet of my first period class before someone grabs me by the shoulders. They take off my headphones and throw them to the ground, slamming my backpack on the floor.
"So, the piece of human trash is gonna be onstage? Who would want to watch you? You should just go DIE right now! Maybe then someone will actually care about you, they'll be happy to see you burned into ashes!" Some kid says, pinning me against the wall. I don't keep track of names, pretty much everyone in this school hates me. I keep my expression blank, that's five more minutes in the bathroom at home. Luckily the show is in two days, today was the last to sign up, so I won't have to wait long. I say nothing as he punches me square in the jaw, I must've really hit a nerve. He pulls back his hand again when the door opens, revealing a horrified teacher.
"Virgil! How dare you get in a fight, that is against school rules! If this happens again it's detention for sure! Now pick up your stuff and get in here before the bell rings." She scolds, even the teachers don't like me, though they refuse to admit it. She smiles sympathetically at the bully, and I rush inside the class.
Tomorrow's the day, I have very little time to wait. If only it felt that way. I sprint to school, my parents weren't here today and they forgot to tell me to set an alarm, they usually wake me up since alarms won't work most days. I know I'm just going to be ridiculed, what else would kids do when I show weakness? I keep my head down, not even bothering to take out my music. As I walk inside my homeroom I see malicious glares, but the bell rings as I sit down, letting me know I made it in time. Everyone scowls at this, yet our teacher remains ignorant as she scrawls upon the board.
"Hey, shouldn't Virgil go up and write it today? You said we all could vote for someone today." A girl calls out, of course they want to embarrass me in front of everyone with my sloppy handwriting. Thankfully they don't know it's because of my anxiety, causing my hand to be unstable, but it's still a target for them. She lights up, nodding gratefully.
"Thank you Madison for reminding me. Virgil, come on up here so you can write, only for today though, this is a privilege." She says teasingly, and I nod quickly.
"Of course Mrs. Alson." She smiles brightly, I'm one of the few people to actually call her Mrs., some people at this school aren't very appreciative of her transition. I get up somewhat shakily, trying to keep her smile in y head. I can make one person happy at least, that's good, right? Not everyone hates me? Only the majority. I start writing, slowly to make sure it's my best handwriting. Today's date: January 15th Our objective: Learning more about what causes wars. I write, she's a history teacher, so she always prepares during homeroom. I sit back down, and Mrs. Alson smiles at me again.
"Thank you Virgil, and I have to say, you have some of the neatest handwriting I've seen. I'll let your English teacher know to give you a few extra points today." She says with a wink. I blink at her, surprised, for once not noticing the glares of everyone else. That doesn't last of course.
Once I exit the classroom everyone gangs up on me, nasty looks on their faces. I back away slightly, holding on tight to my backpack. Three boys step out of the small crowd, making themselves visible. I hold back a wince, these three are the worst bullies in our school. They're so bad that a few kids had to move away because of them, though the school acted like they didn't know this, or else they were just really ignorant and unaware.
"So, you want to be a prissy little kid now? A wimp, and girly? No wonder no one likes you. What kind of boy has good handwriting? And what kind of highschooler ever had bad enough handwriting he needed to concentrate on each letter?" The leader says, slapping my face with each sentence. I bolt, unable to focus on anything but running. They glare after me, a murderous look on their faces. That's an hour in the bathroom at home.
Today's the day. I made it through the horrific schoolday, and now it's time to head up on stage. I'm the last act for today, it's a three part show. I shakily step on stage, waiting for the silence to come, the last act was the best one so far. As the background music starts a few people cheer, there's definitely some people who like my music, though they don't like me. I take a deep breath and start singing.
"Watch your step around these words
'Cause they're gonna get you,
They're gonna get you in the end," I look around, seeing a few mildly surprised looks on the bullies faces.
"I swear it's not a disease it's just a game of pretend,
A game of pretend,
Why is it me they're after,
Couldn't they pick another one,
Some day I'll spit their laughter,
And bite their tongue." I glare out at them, and the music picks up.
"Horrible kids,
Would you look what you did?
It was your ignorance,
That formed a beast with your wit!" I take another deep breath, preparing myself for what I'm about to do.
"Horrible kids, horrible kids, horrible kids,
Look what you did!" As I sing the last lyric I take off my jacket, putting my arms pointedly in front of the cameras. A collective gasp goes around the room
"What makes this target grow?
Is it when his feelings show?" I blink back a few tears.
"Hold a gun to his head and you'll know,
You've pushed him down as low as he can
Go! Get away from me." I back away from the front of the stage, letting some of my anxiety show on my face, pain and anger flowing through my voice.
"Leave me be,
I beg you please,
I'm on the floor on bended knee" I kneel down, putting my head in my hands as I sing. As I start the next lyric I fall off my knees, scrambling backwards while still on the floor, kicking desperately.
"Maybe then I'll keep my sanity.
And I can't stand this pain they cause me" I lift up my arms again, standing up
"This puzzle will solve itself,
And maybe I just can't seem to put this together yet." I cover my face again briefly, before exploding with power and energy as the chorus comes back on
"Horrible kids,
Would you look what you did?
It was your ignorance,
That formed a beast with your wit!
Horrible kids, horrible kids, horrible kids,
Look what you did!" I show my arms once more, tears forming in my eyes again
"Horrible kids, horrible kids, horrible kids,
Look what you did." My face hardens, my glare cold.
"Picture this he was just a kid,
Not knowing where to begin,
He wore all the wrong clothes" I gesture to what I'm wearing right now, people made fun of me today for it, just like every other day.
"Followed all the wrong trends" I wave to my hair, still bright purple
"Persecuted for the things he did.
Picture this he was all alone" I open my arms wide, pointing out the fact that there is no one up here with me
"Without a friend to call his own" I glare, pointing at every single person in the audience
"So he sat on his bed" I sit on one of the random chairs left on the stage
"With the thought in his head,
With wishes that they all were dead." I stick both of my middle fingers out at everyone
"But then he saw the light" I pull out a flyer for the talent show
"Gained the will to fight" I point out a particular scar on my hand, the words KILL THEM still fresh, blood almost dripping out
"Saw that victory was in sight,
But soon they all will see.
Horrible kids,
Would you look what you did,
It was your ignorance,
That formed a beast with your wit." I'm gesturing wildly now, pure rage and fear pumping through my veins
"Horrible kids,
Would you look what you did,
It was your ignorance,
That formed a beast with your wit!" I practically screaming the lyrics now, yet I'm still on tune, and I sound almost exactly like the original singer
"Horrible kids, horrible kids, horrible kids,
Look what you did!" I turn my right hand so they can see the inside of my wrist for the first time, lines upon lines, some new some old, almost no space left, yet there is one that I made almost immediately before coming on stage, blood still dripping from it. Another collective gasp ripples through the audience
"Horrible kids, horrible kids, horrible kids,
Look what you did!" I turn my left hand, revealing it to be the mirror of my right arm, one fresh cut still letting drops of blood fall. I drop the mic and walk offstage. Now everyone knows.