Just pity (2D x reader)

Prologue: your past

"Leave him the fuck alone,"

You had been 9 at the time. The two much larger boys had been standing over a boy who was sitting ass first in the dirt. It was a hot summer day and you could see the dust in the air. They had knocked him into the dirt as you had been walking by. It wasn't out of kindness you helped him. You didn't know why.

The kids had both their attention turned to you, sizing you up. They were looking for a fight, and you had taken the bait. It was better than laying in the dirt like the sad sop that was the other boy, who had gone down without a fight. They walked closer to you threateningly. "Yeah, what you gonna do if we don't?" One of them asked. He was broad. And pudgy. "I'm gonna beat your fucking dumbass face, you fucking git," You had answered back.

You had put up a good fight. You had given the pudgy lad a bloody nose and bruised the other bastard pretty good, but anyone who would have been present would have known you'd lost brutally. The young boy you had taken to defending had ran when you'd thrown the first punch probably, he had looked like a coward. As you were laying there in the dust, bloodied face, you considered how thankless of a job being nice was. That's when you promised yourself that you'd never go out of your way to white knight someone again.

Stuart was his name. It wasn't until a few grades later you realized he was in the same grade as you. You had made awkward eye contact in the hall the day after and as soon as his eyes had landed on your red swollen nose, he had turned down another path in the ever winding school as fast as he could. You would continue to make awkward eye contact for the next two years, and you knew he knew. Did he ever feel bad for running away? Or did he just not care for or appreciate the trouble other people went through for him? It was only then you figured it out, when it happened.

It was the talk of the grade. Stuart Pot, the thick numbnut had fallen down head first when playing in the trees with his friends. Honestly you'd forgotten about the boy you once took a punch for. As you got older and quicker, forming your own personality besides liking ninja turtles, you started to get friends. You had been one of the first in your class to get some form of individuality. Your dad had always been very smart and quick, so it was only natural that you took after him. The other kids loved it. The way you were able to talk back to the teachers and instantly come up with comebacks in verbal fights, it made you popular. So when the whispers of Stuart Pots accident started floating about, you were asking yourself who the fuck Stuart Pot was. It wasn't until one of your friends pointed him out to you in the courtyard that you realized it was the same boy. You weren't thrilled, and you ignored the hurtful memory creeping up every time the incident came up in conversation. Eventually it died down, and when it surfaced again half a year later when Stuarts hair began to grow out blue, you finally got your explanation. Not that you understood at the time, the same way you do now. You were outside smoking with your friends from the higher grades after school (at the ripe age of 11), when Stuart happened to walk out with his friends. One of your older friends had snickered and said something that you hadn't understood at the time. "Look at the fucking sperg' walking around with that stupid hair. Poor kid." You hadn't asked what he meant. You simply looked away and finished your cigarette.

It wasn't till year 9 in school that you really came into contact with the kid again. At this point you would think Stuart had forgotten about the incident, and it held little to no value to you, even if you thought about the conclusion you had made often. It was a party. You were 'working' that night, you weren't ashamed to admit you had ended up in a less than safe environment. It was exciting to you, selling anything you could to anyone you could, no moral code. You were sure the kid currently buying was younger than you were the first time you popped a pill, but it was no matter to you. Money was money. The kid handed you the money, and as you stuffed it in your pocket, you suddenly felt yourself getting turned around by someone placing a hand on your shoulder. "(Y/n), You son of a bitch, what are you doing here tonight?" It took you several moments to look up at the woman who had referred to you and even more to recognize her. You put up the fake charm and personality you had honed over the years, and smiled at her. "Well, I'll be damned, Paula fucking Cracker." You answered back. She smiled mischievously. "You working tonight?" She asked, voice lowered a bit as to not out you to the room full of teenagers. "Aye, indeed I am. What are you looking for?" it was only then, as she hugged the arm of the person standing next to her closer that you realized she had someone with her. You looked up instinctively and you suddenly felt hotter and less comfortable in the company of your regular. "Short roll. It's his first time, sooo.." She trailed off as she pointed up at the blue eyed, blue haired guy. You realized for the first time that he had very beautiful eyes. You remembered that hot afternoon all over again, as you looked in his pathetic blank eyes. Looking back again, you now know what you did was petty and unwarranted, but you just thought it would be funny and harmless. Besides, there was no indication he remembered anything.