Flower crowns and sea salt.

School for the broken

Small flecks of snow floated down from the sky, none touching the ground before they vanished. The hideous rumble of a city pulsated every where. The world seemed full of humanity's corruption. People the system had let down curling closer to each other to prevent the inevitable from claiming them sooner. People on phones and in suits too wrapped up in love affairs and business to see the other humans dying before their eyes.

Trudging through it all, head low was a silver haired boy with a round face. Large framed glasses rested on his delicate features. His hands were digging deep into the pockets of the expensive-looking black blazer he wore over a pastel blue shirt. A few freckles dotted his cheeks, adding to the look of innocence that his face held. His posture however did not help him looking innocent, as he was hunched occasionally twitching out of apparent anxiety.

Not one person looked at him, not one person even acknowledged the short boy's existence. This suited him perfectly, he liked his quiet world.

No one can suspect you if no one knows who you are.

A large grey building loomed against the slate grey sky, the windows were small. A high fence surrounded it, either to keep people out or to keep people in. The young man never changed how he was walking, just heading slowly into the building.

The school. The unit. The place. Whatever you chose to call it those attending knew it as hell.

A large number of students, wearing whatever they had cobbled together turned to stare at the new boy. Each one whispering to whoever was next to them. What is he in for? How known is he? He looks too innocent to be in this hell. What class will he be in? Do his parents not care?

Those whispers followed him as he made his way through the cold halls. Pulling some paper from his pocket he looked at it closely before slipping it back in and continuing the journey, now more sure of where he was going.

Sighing to himself the young man stopped before a locker. The blue metal was labelled "Hokuteru Himo." A small black square was under the italic writing.

Looking about he saw a red haired boy put his thumb to the black square before removing it, the door opening shortly after. The boy was attractive, that was obvious. He was tall, his hair neat. He wore a white shirt, it fitting his form perfectly. He was muscled, not too much, but just enough, obviously still having a little bit of softness to his form.

The grey haired male squinted to read the label on the locker. Rimi Noro. Turning his attention back to Noro he had reached into the locker, pulling out some books before closing it and turning to the short suit wearing other. Apon seeing him Noro frowned and headed over. "What the fuck are you looking at shortass?"

Those words, despite the angry tone struck sharp daggers into the shorters fragile heart. Those, frankly insulting, words tugged at his heartstrings and by the gods did he want to be the one to calm that anger and change it to softness and compassion and perhaps love.

Mouth opening, he looked at his feet, feeling the blush spread along his face. His mind was going places that he did not want to. The notion of curling up under a blanket on a sofa and watching Disney films filled his mind, the faint scent of lavender accenting the room.

Noro flicked the side of his head. "Oi, I asked you a question dickhead. You gonna answer?"

Looking up at Noro, into those pink eyes, so perfect. He tilted his head. "I was... I was trying to uh- figure out how the lockers work." Gods, get it together idiot. He mentally scolded himself for stammering.

Noro frowned. "Okay... Well what's your name then?" The red haired boy seemed to relax as he spoke.

"Homo- I- I mean Himo! Himo Hokuteru. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." The shorter stammered, looking stressed by the slip of his tongue. Fuck it all.