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Yor hugs her knees close to her chest, curling up on the bright blue vinyl sickbed in the nurse’s office. She rests the side of her head on her knees, but it doesn’t prevent the squeaking of sneakers on gym floors and the animated chatter of her fellow classmates as they throw around dodgeballs from reaching her ears.
She sighs to herself, trying not to let it all get to her. It’s not a sensation she’s unused to—ever since she started taking gym classes regularly, her schoolmates have always thrown dirty looks her way whenever she tried to interact with them.
It’s happened since practically her fourth year at Eden, but it doesn’t make it any less painful to bear when she knows the shunning from her classmates is an unspoken sign of her being wholly unwelcome in their space.
And since the incident last year, the dirty looks morphed into full-on glares and nasty insults. Comparing her to an animal, treating her as something unhuman. It’s common knowledge that she has a bit of a problem with managing her strength, but after she accidentally damaged school property and almost hurt another student in a sports match gone wrong, it’s never left her mind since. She hasn’t forgiven herself, and neither have they.
It was hardly even an informal ban from most sport clubs and other various athletic activities, including gym class, but she received the message loud and clear.
And so, here she is in the nurse’s office, the only place in the school she’s unofficially free to loiter in without receiving a Tonitrous Bolt for skipping class. The nurse has taken a liking to her well enough, seeing as she’s injured due to clumsiness in some of her non-academic classes more often than not. As long as she busies herself with various organization-related tasks and directing other students, she’s as good as welcome.
Today, however, she isn’t quite in the mood to do so. The cuts on her hand sting particularly painfully today, among other things. She hastily tries to wipe the growing tear droplets out of her eyes.
It’s not that big a deal, Yor! Don’t get yourself all worked up over this!
She rolls her eyes to herself at her brain’s useless antics that always seem to make her upset when she wants it least, but it doesn’t do much to lift her mood.
A noise sounds from the office door, and Yor lifts her head to inspect the cause of the disturbance. The door opens, someone grumbles something under their breath, and then a figure appears.
“Oh, Miss Briar.”
Yor’s heart quickens in recognition. It’s Loid Forger, her friend/acquaintance/person who seems to regularly engage in skirmishes with other students and visit the nurse’s office unannounced while she’s there. Yor isn’t quite sure the correct way to define their relationship as is, seeing as their interactions are usually limited to the instances that they run into each other here.
Yor turns her head away slightly. She doesn’t particularly want Loid to see her face right now, seeing as she was biting back tears only moments previously. He’s always had a knack for knowing when she’s in low spirits.
She laughs a little. “I keep telling you that you can call me Yor.”
He walks over and sits down in the seat next to her with a resounding ‘plop.’ “Well, what’s the fun in that?” he says with a shrug that she can vaguely see out of the corner of her eye. “Plus, I like seeing your reaction.”
Yor rolls her eyes, but a smile inches across her face.
“So,” Loid says. Without warning, he takes her hand into his own and appears to examine it closely, humming to himself. Her face warms against her will. “What injuries have you sustained this time around? I mean, you’re always sitting in here when I come by. There has to be something you aren’t telling me.”
“When you come by,” Yor repeats, “is a rather peculiar way of putting it.”
Loid grins. “You caught me.”
It isn’t much of a secret—it's common knowledge how Loid Forger can’t seem to control his anger, always getting into various fights and brawls with other students who say something nasty to him or to someone else. And like clockwork, he promptly finds his way to the nurse’s office instead of, well, detention, which is where he probably should be.
Yor has never explicitly asked why he seems to feel the need to react to them that way, but it’s something she’s always wondered. She knows that, at least to the way her classmates treat her , not arguing is the best way to avoid conflict. Even though sometimes it feels like to her that they’re looking for a reaction from her, and that her silently doing what they want only seems to infuriate them further and fuel their fire.
Maybe they have been looking for a reaction from her, if only to prove their nasty accusations correct that she doesn’t possess any self-control whatsoever. She knows anything else she’d do to fight back would only give them more satisfaction.
“Hey, Yor,” Loid prods, poking her side playfully. “Stop daydreaming already. I can’t stay for long, you know that. Once the nurse comes back, I know I’ll get an earful.”
Yor turns his way, raising a single eyebrow. “That doesn’t seem to stop you most days, now does it?”
Loid leans back and laughs loud enough that she can hear the vibrations of it in her bones, and it’s almost contagious. She finds herself smiling again, her spirits slowly being lifted by his company.
He looks down at his uniform, on which is pinned two Tonitrous Bolts. They both are aware that his transgressions surely number much more than that in reality. Then his gaze returns to hers with a wicked smile. “It hardly means much if they can’t catch me.”
“One day, they will, Loid,” she replies, tongue-in-cheek. “Smooth-talking can only take you so far.”
He gives her a long look, and a question is starting to grow on her tongue. But before she can ask anything, he retrieves something out of his pocket and hands it to her.
“Practice makes perfect, then, I suppose,” he says, smiling at her.
Yor looks at him thoughtfully. She can’t help but think that it’s a shame he only smiles so genuinely in her presence. It’s not like she can blame him though, because she knows all too well how unfriendly the rest of their school can be at times.
“Look at your present, dummy, not at me,” Loid says, looking away quickly. His ears are pink.
Yor looks at the objects in her hands. Poppy flowers. Freshly cut, presumably from the fields by the lake. A bright, vibrant, eye-catching red.
She smiles at them. She should have expected them from him at this point.
It’s not the first time. Routinely, Loid will saunter into the nurse’s office with a purple bruise on his cheek and flowers in his hand, smelling like freshly watered soil from the Eden gardens, which is always a strange combination every time she sees it. Three days ago, they were carnations stolen from the greenhouse. Last week, it was a huge sunflower. She still hasn’t the slightest idea how he snuck that one onto school grounds.
That was the first thing.
Then, he—
“You know, if you like them so much,” Loid says, nudging her with his elbow, “you could always come see them with me. There are some beautiful flower fields along the trail to Stella Lake. Especially at night.”
Then, well, he finds some roundabout way to ask her out. Whether it’s to “help tutor him in the library” when they’re both well aware that his academic grades are as stellar as they come, or to eat lunch with him because “he’s lonely” when his friend Franky sits with him nearly every day, Loid always attempts to invite her on some excursion or another.
Yor whirls around. “I could never! They could punish us with up to three Tonitrous Bolts for that! And you yourself said your record probably wouldn’t do well to accrue any more than you already have.”
It’s mostly an excuse, and a deflection. They both know he doesn’t usually get caught unless he finds himself in a fight with witnesses around. Which are hard to avoid when publicly brawling, she supposes. And she knows very well that he’s only saying all of this to cheer her up, that there is no other intention behind his words.
Loid visibly deflates with a sigh. “Hmm, I thought my flowers would convince you this time,” he says. “Or have I read you wrong, and you actually hate flowers or something...?”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous—nobody hates flowers,” Yor says. “At this rate, you’ll have upended the entirety of the gardens soon enough. And you really don’t have to do all of that for my sake...” Yor mumbles this last sentence into her knees, the heaviness behind her eyes returning.
Loid takes the flowers out of her hand and sets it aside. Then he takes her hand, tugging her forward and forcing her to uncurl herself. “C’mon, Yor. I promise it’s very pretty. You’ll like it. Come with me.”
Yor complies with his silent request, getting up from the sickbed. Then, she lets go of his hand—to his clear dismay, from the frown that appears on his face—and instead finds her way to the first aid kit on the nurse’s desk, retrieving a band-aid from the box and closing it.
Facing Loid, she taps on his nose without saying a word, a silent wait here . Then, she peels off his old band-aid and gently places the fresh one in the same place, smoothing it with her fingers.
She watches Loid curiously as she does so. And his eyes are impossibly wide, which is strange as it certainly isn’t the first time she’s aided in patching up his various injuries, so Yor can’t fathom why he’d be surprised by the action now.
Once she’s finished, she takes a step back, deciding to play along with him for once. “How about you stop exclusively having to visit me in the nurse’s office, and then we’ll see. We’ve got to stop meeting like this, you know.”
Loid looks at a loss for words. His mouth opens and then closes, and then opens again.
After a moment, he turns away and shrugs, throwing her a smirk over his shoulder that totally, for sure, does not throw Yor’s heart into a frenzy. “I’ll take it. Progress is progress.”
Yor doesn’t know how to respond. But it seems she doesn’t have to, because they both spot the nurse approaching the office, and Loid takes that as his cue to leave.
He throws her a salute with one hand and waves at her with the other. “I’ll see you around, Yor. Don’t miss me too much.”
She rolls her eyes but returns it with her own.
Yor makes her way across the sprawling Eden campus on her way back from delivering a note to another professor on behalf of the nurse as part of their unspoken agreement. She has half a mind to walk slightly faster, as she doesn’t want to miss Loid when he inevitably visits her.
She can’t remember when she started to expect his presence—and, well, hope for it. They aren’t in any classes together, never see each other in the halls usually, don’t share any mutual friends. She probably never would have found a reason to speak to him even if they did any of those things. And yet...
As Yor walks past the door to the courtyard, she hears commotion coming from outside, and she decides to open the door and venture outside to see what may be going on. The closer she walks toward them, the more she realizes about what it might be about. And it’s nothing like what she expects.
“Oi, Forger. Why’re you picking flowers like a loser, huh?” Someone calls.
“Hah!” Another jeers. “Didn’t peg you for the type. Who’re they for?”
Loid looks up from where he’s crouched on the ground, for the reason, Yor assumes, of tending to the garden. When he glimpses who’s addressing him, he immediately whirls back around and continues what he’s doing. It’s surprising to Yor, considering his reputation for not being able to back down from a fight to save his life.
“What? Ya don’t like us? We too rich for your kind to handle?” One laughs.
The first one crouches next to him and snatches the flowers that were in his hand. Roses. He barks out in laughter. “This for your little girlfriend? The pun is clever, I’ll give you that.”
His friend snickers obnoxiously. “What, that bitch? No way!”
Yor swallows, realizing she’s stopped moving. Oh. They’re talking about her . Briar.
Yes, how clever.
“Watch your mouth,” Loid says lowly, without looking at them. He doesn’t even reach for the flowers the other boy took from him. “It’s none of your business. Now get out of my face.”
“Or what?” The second boy challenges with a scoff. “You’ll hit me?”
Loid gets up, dusting off his uniform trousers. “You’d really like to be punched that bad? Of course. I’d be happy to oblige if that’s your oh, so greatest wish.”
The first boy guffaws. “The way he talks fucking pisses me off. A lot of big, fancy words for a poor loser who clearly doesn’t belong here.”
Yor’s surprised that Loid doesn’t react. As if he’s all too familiar with these kinds of insults being thrown at him to the point that it doesn’t anger him anymore. She frowns at the thought. She’s never considered that her peers might be treating him the same way they treat her.
After all, she’s never known all that much about who Loid Forger really was, anyway.
“I’m not in the mood to fight you,” Loid says, taking a deep breath. “Now leave me alone.”
They both look at each other, grinning widely. It’s unsettling to Yor, to say the least. But, for the first time, something makes her move forward and confront it.
“What’s going on here?” she says. “You three should be in class.”
Loid’s head jerks up, and when his eyes meet hers, she can see the alarm loud and clear in them. But it’s not only about her anymore, so she can’t just stand around and do what these bullies say. She needs to do something .
“Oh, look who we have here!” One of the boys says. “Your freak girlfriend is here to save you, huh?”
Yor winces at the insult, but she tries not to let it show on her face. She’s used to the hurtful words, sure, but a part of her still wants to hide that reality from him. It becomes too real when it’s acknowledged by someone else.
Loid sees it anyway, and he surges forward to meet them eye to eye. “You better shut the hell up, or I’ll beat you into the ground right here.”
The smaller boy barks, “What, in front of her? Man, you’re brutal.”
“Loid, please,” Yor starts, moving toward him, but the larger of the boys intercepts her path.
“Don’t even think about it,” he sneers.
She ignores his threat anyway, shoving him aside to make her way to Loid. She doesn’t even notice that she’s shoved him several feet away and made him eat dirt.
He spits out the sediment that was in his mouth, getting back up. The side of his head is slick with sweat and dirt. “The fuck was that, you raised by animals or some shit?!”
The boy next to Loid laughs. “Man, I knew she was a freak bitch, who’s surprised!”
Tears start to prick the corners of her eyes. Yor doesn’t think she can handle any more of this chaos—she really doesn’t want to be the cause of some all-out brawl. She doesn’t want to be dragged into it and potentially hurt somebody.
But a small, traitorous part of her knows they’re right, that they’ve always been right. She can’t control herself, she’ll only hurt somebody, she’s a good-for-nothing freak, a brut—
Yor hears a sickening crack that interrupts her thoughts.
“Learn how to talk to a girl before you start running your fucking mouth, asshole,” Loid growls, before throwing a second punch to the boy’s nose.
It takes several very long minutes of panicked explaining from Yor and smooth-talking from Loid to sort out the whole situation. Loid ends up able to convince their class headmaster to let off Yor with a warning, with him taking the single Tonitrous Bolt himself.
They sit silently in the nurse’s office. Yor cradles her forearm, which now sustains a bruise from one of the boys trying to throw a punch at her. She’s pretty sure that boy’s hand probably fares much worse.
Loid holds a pack of ice to his eye and a handful of tissues to his bloody nose.
“I’m sorry, Yor,” he says. “I really am. I didn’t mean for you to have heard all of that, to have gotten involved. I—”
Yor holds up a hand to stop him. “Loid,” she says. “It’s nothing, I promise.”
Loid ventures closer slowly. He slowly takes her arm and examines her purpling bruise. “It’s not nothing. You got hurt here.” Then he points to her chest, to where her heart is. “And here. You didn’t deserve any of those nasty words said to you at all.”
She sighs. “I should be apologizing to you , really. You didn’t have to defend me, didn’t have to risk another Bolt, another black eye, just for me. But you did. You wouldn’t have if I wasn’t there.”
“You’re wrong,” he says, shaking his head. “If they so much as said your name in a nasty tone, I would have without hesitation. Why don’t you get it?”
Yor’s silent for a moment. Then, “We really have to stop doing this.” She takes his hand, now covered in cuts, scratches, split knuckles. “I never liked having to patch you up every time you fought someone, you know.”
Loid swallows.
After a second, he gets up and replaces the tissues he’d been holding to his nose with two cotton rolls that he promptly sticks up his nostrils, looking at her with an inane grin.
Yor’s lips curl into a smile against her will at the sight. She doesn’t know how it’s possible for someone to look so handsome and simultaneously so silly all at once.
“I’m glad we’re friends,” she says eventually, staring at her lap. “We are friends, right?” She feels absurd even asking the question, but she has to.
Loid sits next to her. He pulls out something from his pocket.
Yor finds the rose he had picked earlier is now tucked into her hair behind her ear.
“I hope you’re not taking what those bastards said to heart, okay? You’re not a freak or anything like that. You’re beautiful, alright?”
Oh.
Yor feels her face start to burn, especially under Loid’s intense, discerning gaze. It’s hard to avoid, no matter how much she wishes to.
She looks down. “That’s nice of you to say.” Her hand fidgets restlessly beside her.
Loid sighs. When she looks up at him, his eyes are closed. He shakes her head, a rueful smile on his face.
This time, he takes her hand, easing the numb tension in her fingers. “Go out with me.”
Yor looks at him in surprise. Her breath catches a little at the sincerity in his voice, so unlike any of their previous interactions thus far.
“I’m serious. It can be anything, okay? We can sit lunch on the roof or something, like everyone else. We can get permission, even, to go out to Stella Lake and see the flowers. I promise you won’t get in trouble if—”
Yor, for once, acts without thinking. Before Loid can even finish his sentence, she silences him by surging forward and kissing his cheek softly.
He inhales sharply and stops speaking immediately, seemingly frozen into stone. Then, his eyes widen, and his face begins to flush a deep red. He immediately looks away from her in embarrassment, but she can see the redness creeping down his neck.
She watches him in mild amusement, seeing as it’s apparent he isn’t immune to his own antics. But more importantly, it’s incredibly endearing. A part of her very much likes being the cause of it, as it’s finally not the other way around for once.
“Okay,” Yor says. She can’t keep the smile off her face anymore. “I will.”
The sheer genuineness of Loid’s returned smile catches her off guard. She thinks he really ought to more often. He really does look so handsome when he’s smiling.
He looks at the flower in her hair, and then at her eyes. He tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. “Roses suit you, you know. They match your eyes. And they’re almost as pretty.”
As you , is what he doesn’t say. She’s mildly surprised that she hears it anyway.
She looks down at her lap. “Ah, well, I never used to like them. My name was always associated with them, but the idea that something beautiful could hide that kind of danger beneath it scared me. I suppose I just got into my own head. It’s sort of ridiculous, now that I think about it.”
“It’s not,” Loid says. “Really. I think it’s great that you can pack a punch. But it’s even better that you never feel the need to. It’s more than what I can say for myself, at least.”
Yor faces him. “You’re plenty selfless, you know, defending those you care about even if it gets you hurt or in trouble. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
He laughs a little. “I suppose.”
Her hand slowly inches toward his, on its own. She almost can’t believe she’s having this kind of conversation with somebody like Loid, someone who she never imagined she’d become so comfortable with.
Loid takes it in his own. They continue to sit beside each other in the nurse’s office, talking about nothing and everything, having forgotten about the classes they’re most likely missing unexcused.
But Yor finds she doesn’t really mind the company, the kind, thoughtful look he’s always directing at her, his patient smile that lets her know he’s always listening . Smiling to herself, she thinks, she could get used to this.