Whoooosh~ woooo~
The wind rushed gently, carrying a calm, buzzing hum as it softly hit the walls of a complex of large buildings. Only occasionally being interrupted by muffled grunts coming from within a crowd of boys gathered within the school grounds, just a short distance away from the gates. Above the tall gates, bold letters rested on an arch that read, World's Edge Academy.
Whispers buzzed in the air, low and cautious to not draw attention, as a few students hurriedly walked away from the scene unfolding by the walkway. Ornamental trees and flower bushes lined the path, their leaves rustling softly with the breeze, the uninvolved students trying, it seemed, to remain uninvolved and quickly make their way out of the school.
"Isn't that Ken?" A distant voice questioned in a whisper.
"What did he do this time?" another replied with another question, just as hushed as the one before.
"How would I know? Let's get out of here, I'm not trying to become his body double," the first voice said as it faded, swallowed by grunting and shuffling from the crowd of boys.
THUD!!
A heavy sound broke through the ruckus, and the gathered students began to step back, revealing not a thing, but a person. A boy, just like them, though way smaller than they were, his thin and almost sickly frame lay on the ground, his knees pressed up against his chest. His uniform was the same as theirs, but it looked worn, tattered, proof of continuous violence.
Cough! Cough! Cough!
The boy coughed violently. Each breath he drew seemed to cause him extreme pain, his eyes narrowing as he forced in the air he needed to live, no matter how agonising it felt to breathe.
One of the attackers suddenly picked him up by the collar, some saliva dripping onto his hand, making him drop him without care as he vigorously shook it off his hands, proceeding to rub it clean on one of the boys standing around him, anger plastered on his face. The boy curled into himself, embracing his knees as he had been doing before being picked up, perhaps a learned defence mechanism. A final kick landed against his back, a cruel revenge for the drop of spittle, cursing at the boy in anger, the group slowly walking away from their sadistic handiwork, laughing and chatting among themselves, the boy who delivered the last kick still frowning but satisfied with their cruelty.
"Ahhh… quiet... It's so... quiet... so cool..." the boy murmured now alone.
He shivered slightly as the breeze continued to brush past, and he felt the cold in his bones. Around him, his fellow students walked by, indifferent. No one offered help. No one even stared. But this wasn't a numbness to his suffering; it was something worse. Even if you're desensitised, you at least look at suffering. Even if it was an animal suffering on the roadside, at least you looked at it, not to help but at least to recognise its existence. They didn't even spare him a pitiful glance. It was as if he weren't human or even worthy of being considered an animal.
Even animals showed more compassion to their own.
With a soft sigh, he slowly pushed himself up to a kneeling position, gathering what was left of his books and belongings, all mostly torn and in tatters. His bag lay nearby, half-zipped and dirtied. He heaved as he reached out for it, retrieving it and putting his things into it.
"Ha..." he exhaled weakly, standing with effort, brushing back his flowing red hair that looked unkept and messy. He limped toward the school gates and beyond, heading for the bus stop a few strides away from the gate. A green sign shimmered in the setting sun, clearly marked: New Metro Estate Bus Stop. Behind it stood a basic shelter, empty as he was, but he was glad for the lack of eyes.
He sat on the bench, staring blankly into the distance. Cars rushed by, lights blurring, and for a moment, he was lost in a blurry daze, his eyes heavy and teary, a hot drip trickling down his face.
Until a voice called him out of his teary daze.
"Thirty minutes till the next bus, huh? That's a long wait, don't you think?"
The boy blinked, drawn out of his trance by the voice. A middle-aged man stood nearby, wearing jogging clothes and a broad smile. His presence felt too casual and disconnected from the moment.
"May I sit next to you?" he asked as he made his way to Ken's side. And without waiting for a response, the man sat down beside him.
"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Desmond. And you?" he introduced himself just as suddenly as his arrival was.
"…Ken," the boy replied softly, his voice cracking.
"I saw you sitting here looking all lonely and figured a little conversation wouldn't hurt," Desmond said, his smile still present.
"Why don't we be friends, Ken? I feel that would be nice, right?" He added, not missing a beat, his already broad smile getting even broader to an almost twisted degree.
He stretched out his hand for a handshake, still smiling, but Ken didn't take it; instead just ignored his suggestion and looked ahead. Desmond looked down at him and frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took a look at Ken's injuries.
"Hmm. So we're friends then," Desmond said, awkwardly retracting his hand.
"So, now why don't you tell me, since we are friends now, of course… who did this to you? Classmates? Friends? Well... I guess they wouldn't be friends if they'd beat you to this extent, huh?" he questioned, frowning as he scratched his head as if thinking profoundly.
Again, no response from Ken after waiting a bit for an answer, he leaned in slightly.
"Do you want to be able to fight back?" he asked with a wiff of Ken's sweaty body hitting his nose as he animatedly sat back straight.
Ken said nothing.
"I could teach you," Desmond continued, a smile twitching at the corners of his face.
"Teach you how to defend yourself," he added eerily
Still no response. Ken stared on, unmoving.
"Hello? Hellooo? Anybody home?" Desmond asked playfully, tapping a finger against Ken's temple. His grin twisted a little more with every second of silence, the wind whistling around them like a hollow tune, only increasing the tension caused by the deafening silence between the two, a few cars blearing their horns as they drove by.
After a while of continued silence, Desmond stood up, his eyes lighting up as if suddenly remembering something.
"Well, would you look at that—I've got somewhere else to be. But hey, here's my card." He said as he slid a small rectangle into Ken's breast pocket, tapping it twice.
"Don't be a stranger now, hmm?" he added as he began walking away, waving over his shoulder.
"You've got ten more minutes 'til the bus gets here, Kenny boy. I'll be waiting for your call," he said, his hand running through his curly hair as he disappeared into the evening.
The breeze stirred again.
"…He wanted to talk to me?" Ken whispered to himself, the disbelief rife in his voice, his trembling hands slowly reaching for his pocket, where Desmond had placed the card.
As the hum of cars returned to his ears, he put the card back into his pocket with trembling fingers—and stared.