🗝️⋆𐙚₊˚♡75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcqetmXDaZH
.⋆♱ PANDORA'S ECHO⠀,75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2WuzV8fjeZ
005. it's now or never...75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6uv6viJGTl
Naomi stares into the stained mirror in the girls' bathroom and leisurely reapplies a coat of clear lip gloss.
She isn't supposed to be here. Her third-period class had started ten minutes ago.
Even so, she prefers to spend her time aimlessly roaming through the halls. She clicks to her next song before exiting the bathroom. Glancing down at the hall pass in her palm, Naomi decides to test how far this can get her through her biology period.
She stuffs the laminated pass into her gray jacket pocket and begins walking without any real destination in mind. She begins to hum absentmindedly when she notices someone turning the corner.
It's August. Naomi is a bit puzzled because she didn't take him for the type to skip class, but her thoughts come to a stop as he approaches.
Red.
On his face.
His nose is slightly bruised as red liquid trickles over his lips, trailing down his chin. His eyes make her chest tighten; they appear calm, yet restless.
Naomi knows someone had messed with him again. Her jaw pulses as her chest rises deeply and falls; she can't think straight. She blinks once more before she mindlessly grabs his arm as he walks past her.
His movement stills as his eyes drift to her hand, before travelling upwards to her face. August makes no move to reject her intrusiveness nor question her.
"Come." Naomi grunts.
August's face twitches, "What?"
She breathily exhales, "You're bleeding."
"I'm fine," he immediately counters.
Naomi wordlessly pulls him along without any further questions, and he allows her to pull him along. She opens the wooden door of the next unlocked, empty classroom, a stark contrast to the well-lit hallway.
Naomi snatches a glob of tissues and sits him atop a nearby desk and stuffs the tissues into his hand. "Do you just enjoy looking crazy or what?" She snaps softly.
"It's fine," he calmly retorts.
"Your nose is literally bleeding. Wipe your face," she scoffs.
The classroom grows silent as she watches him clean himself up with unwavering focus.
Naomi’s brows slowly knit together, irritation bubbling under her skin. “Did they hit you again?”
"It's nothing," August calmly brushes her question away.
"It's not just nothing, like c'mon, I just don't fucking get it," she crosses her arms disbelievingly.
He finally meets her eyes with a confused look, "Get what?"
Naomi gestures vaguely toward him. "You’re tall, you’re—” she pauses, squinting at him, “—kinda cute, and I know you could fight them off if you actually tried. So why? Why let them do that shit to you?" There it is, the thing that's been bothering her.
"I've tried fighting back, I've had worse. I just don’t see the point," he softly responds.
Naomi simply stares at him now, trying to see if this is some kind of act. She lets out a short, disbelieving huff, pacing a step away before turning back to him. "You should at least pretend to care."
August wipes the last of the blood from his lip, "...Why?"
"Because if you don’t, they’re just gonna keep doing it,” she snaps. "You’re basically telling them it’s okay to slap you, shove you, and dump your food."
He gives a small shrug. "It’s easier."
That pisses her off. “No, it’s not,” Naomi shoots back immediately. “It’s pathetic.”
His eyes widen slightly at her straightforward words, hearing the honest, firm, and genuine concern. "You don't understand what it's like..."
She scoffs once more, "You don’t think I’ve had to stick up for myself? You’re wrong. People used to think they could say whatever to me. And yeah—I didn’t do anything at first. But then I did."
"Not fighting like… fists and shit," she adds quickly. "But if someone said something, I'd say something right back."
The way she describes it makes it sound so simple. He can't imagine himself doing the same. "And what if they hit you back?"
"Then that’s when you do anything you can to make sure you end up on top,” she speaks sternly.
He blinks, taking in everything she's said. The idea of transforming himself, both physically and mentally... something about it sticks. He huffs a faint breath, "That doesn’t sound like it works."
"It does," she says, firmer now. "Because at least you’re not just standing there taking it."
Silence settles between them.
"Why do you care?"
Naomi hesitates, "I care when people act like doormats."
"…It’s easier," he repeats with less certainty.
Naomi shakes her head. "Yeah, well, just because something is easier doesn't mean it's better."
She grabs her bag, stepping back toward the door. "You don’t have to turn into some badass overnight," she pauses, glancing over her shoulder. "Get a damn backbone and seriously—fight back. Even if it’s just with your voice. Just try."
"…Okay," he says quietly. No confidence or conviction, yet something new begins to beat slowly.
ns216.73.217.115da2
and then Add to home screen.