Chapter Text
You learn what you need for your life in high school, people always say. It was a lie, apparently, for it would not be logical to have university after that. But for some people, what they experienced in high school truly contributed a lot to the rest of their lives.
Jonathan Crane was one of those students who never fit in anywhere. Not in class, not in the corridors, not even when he hid himself in the library. He always seemed weary, scrawny and disorientated – mostly because of his bone structure, those cheek bones which created shadows on his face and those cold hollow blue eyes which seemed to look right through people and their disguise.
School was not easy for him. He was not worried about grades; studying was never a problem to him. What truly did bother him were people. Other people.
“God damn freak!” A few classmates dragged him out of the classroom by lunch time this day – not that they were especially stronger than him, Crane was so skinny and light that any normal person could easily lift him off the ground – and locked him up in the storage room. “Faggot, stay away from us!” They punched him just to make sure they had the power over him, some merely stood there and watched, some called him names, awful names; then someone thought that it was not enough. So they brought a bucket of water, pressed the defenseless boy’s face into the freezing temperature, grabbing his wrists so he could not fight back.
“I think he’s out,” spoke some boy who apparently was most of a coward of them all, yet pretending to be a ‘wise’ leader knowing when to stop, not wanting to make this into a killing, “Let’s go.” The others listened, pulled Crane’s head out of the bucket then pouring all the water onto the boy lying on the concrete floor, laughing at the unconscious as they proceeded to the door.
AHA, AHA-HA-HA.
Then they heard laughter – fake laughs, somehow intimidating in the way how it remained and rang within your chest – and they were alarmed. “Someone’s there watching.” One of those boys hissed, a sense of rage and fear consuming him. “Probably just another freak. Let’s teach him a lesson too.” The seemed leader strode towards the source of laughter which continued to taunt them, clearly ignorant of what there was awaiting him. By the very moment he reached without looking to grab whoever was there hiding, a sharp pain cut through his palm, leaving his lame comment on the awkward green hair all to himself.
“Do not invade my space, you hear me?” The hiding boy stood up, pointing his razor to the neck of the leader, the other hand grabbing onto his neck before he could flee. “Shhhh, it’s fine. Don’t worry.” He said, sarcastically comforting the injured boy as he looked obviously frightened and in pain. As the boy was now standing, he glanced over to see the unconscious lying there still, looking as white as a sheet, then he started to stare. He raised an eyebrow, grinning as he hummed, his grip loosening due to the distraction. “Let… let go of me, you freak!” The boy apparently noticed that, so he seized the chance to push away the arm in front of him freeing himself, yet receiving another cut deep and long on his arm as the other responded.
“Oops. I wasn’t paying attention.” The greenish-blonde grinned and spoke with sarcasm, watching the leader whimpering while he ran towards the exit with his gang. He laughed again, this time more sharply and high-pitched, probably really taking joy of the scene. He laughed so hard that he sat down beside the unconscious, then he stopped laughing, staring at Crane.
“Stop faking or I will stick my razor in your mouth.” He growled, pressing the blade to the cheek of the other boy. The next second Crane’s eyes shot open, glaring up at the other without fear, those ice blue eyes burning with threat. “Oh, you seem to be more of what they assume you to be,” the other boy smirked, moving his razor away, unconsciously licking his lips in an awkward manner, “All that acting, you could win Oscar, you know.” Crane sat up, still dripping wet; he apparently was alive, even if he was shivering from the deadly freeze.
“That was quite impressing, how long you managed to hold your breath,” the boy laughed, tossing his weapon up and down as he spoke. Crane watched, distracted by the way he managed to control the razor as if it was a part of him, then he spoke, “They were idiots. They didn’t hear your giggles over their own laughing.”
The other boy stopped with the tossing, narrowing his eyes as he leant closer to gaze intensely into those blue eyes, trying to look for any sign or trace of something – something, yet he himself having no idea what it could be at all. “Interesting.” Crane flinched as the other reached out a hand to him, then just figuring he was trying to wipe away the blood stains under his bleeding nose. “Oh.” He looked down at his shirt, all wet and stained with blood, then leaving a painful gasp as he rubbed a hand across his broken nose.
He was forced to kneel for so long that his knees were sore and legs were numb, not being able to further move himself due to all the pain on his body. “What are you doing here?” It annoyed him, the way the other boy stared at him. He noticed the greenish blonde locks of him, wondering who on earth would have chosen that colour; it was not that he had a problem with it, he merely realized that this boy was somehow different from to others. Not that he was one of those nice guys, apparently not. He was dangerous and complex, as far as Crane could tell all this time observing him since he started talking.
“Is that any of your business?” He asked rhetorically, smirking and showing no sign of leaving. Crane remembered his vision at last blurring due to the coldness and pain, but most probably due to his hunger, then he saw merely blackness. He remembered merely slightly soft chuckles and the touch of another human being’s warmth, the peaceful feeling of resting in somewhere safe.
As he woke, he found himself lying calm and still on those white sheets of the infirmary, his clothes dry and clean, but then all alone again.