Chapter Text
Every single morning, Kris does what he has to do. He wakes up drowsily, rubbing away the weird things that gather in the corners of his eyes (rheum, he thinks to himself, before groaning and not giving a fuck what the technical name of "eye boogers" are called at six o'clock in the damn morning). He steps out of bed, shoves the sheets off and spreads it halfheartedly over his full size bed, and almost trips over some slippers that he doesn't use at all in the mere span of seven seconds.
He takes forty-five steps (ten to the left, thirteen to the right, and then twenty-two towards the left again) towards the bathroom, where he contemplates where the fuck he went wrong in life, and spends approximately thirteen minutes and fourteen seconds just glaring at himself in the window, noticing how he has exactly four wrinkles on his forehead at his only tender age of fifteen, and has twenty-three brown freckles on his face, which he has even though he's -quite noticeably- not Caucasian.
He's been told a total of thirteen times that freckles weren't normal for Asian people, and he's had to call bullshit on those people a total of thirteen times before they were able to finally learn how to count to three.
He then tries to ignore the pain still-there from Friday, choosing to hide a rather largish bruise with his rather worn-out jacket. He's done it so often that it just makes him feel empty every single morning at six thirty, before suddenly shaking his head and choosing to forget about the bruises that were the result of being pummeled at school, and then busying himself with morning chores.
His mom isn't normally at home, although when she is, she's the sweetest thing ever. But the lack of money has her off doing business for weeks at a time, and he's learned how to be frugal with the small check she leaves behind each time. She's doing it for him.
At six forty-five, he puts on casual sneakers, unties and reties his shoelaces three times to ensure maximum tightness, and he then jogs at a slow speed of three miles per hour towards the train station, where the seven-fifteen train arrives just as he steps into his daily waiting spot- about three steps away from the second column in the direction to the right and about five strides away from the yellow caution line. Everything's the same each morning, from the people walking and drinking overpriced coffee from windowsills, to the same beeping of car horns that make city life profound. The light changes every two minutes, and as Kris counts his steps (fifty-three steps along Route 22), he finds himself letting out a small sigh of contentment.
Yes, it's these moments that Kris prides himself on every single day, those meticulous moments where every thing is calculated, and everything's familiar.
At seven twenty-five, in front of the stop at Viridian City, he undergoes yet another life revelation that, yes, he must've pissed off Zeus or Thor or some fucking god of some time, because every single fucking morning, this girl, Silver, comes to ruin his morning parade.
She's done more shit to him that he has to himself, and that's saying something.
Ever since Kris fucked up once (hell, that must've been the problem, of course he was a dumbfuck and fucked up his life just by tripping over his own shoelaces) with Silver's best friend Gold, accidentally coming off as a creep just because he had no idea how the fuck to act around people and apologize, Silver's been giving him flak for what he's done. Kris regrets it to the moon and over, and has apologized to Gold and even got a polite "it's alright" from Gold, but the girl with the red-hair and fucking demonic glare still terrorizes him every single morning. Hell, even after becoming decent acquaintances with the boisterous girl (oh, god, Gold's a bit forthcoming with her advances, and she's a bit...overly flirty for Kris's attentions), Silver still pushes him around and scares him every single goddamn day.
He should find better people to hang out around with. Or maybe- the even better choice- just stay inside all day and never have to interact with humans in real life.
No wonder people picked on miserable shits like him, even he thought he was pathetic.
Silver's reign of terror was horrifying, though.
For the first month, the girl just glared at him from afar whenever he went to choir or drew during lunch, making him freeze up in fear, which caused him to gather up the nerve to apologize to Gold in the first place (he was perfectly fine with denying that the event ever happened- hey, if you can't deal with it, run from it). Silver's glare was chilling, and even though Kris had been told so many times that he had a permanent stank face that could freeze hell over, he was pretty sure that a tall yet pretty (hey, he couldn't deny it) girl with the stare as frigid as a thousand winters was not something he'd want to encounter at all in his life.
Unfortunately, after he apologized, Silver seemed to pick on him even more, telling him to carry her books to her class and call her "Princess" (oh the humiliation), forcing him to eat with her and her friends (actually, they were all pretty nice; Red seemed like a quiet, nice girl, and there was something about Leaf that made you respect him) which wasn't really all that bad- but her friends scared him as well because of their association with her. She forced him to go to all of her violin practices and made him spend hours watching her sing and accompany her to her archery games (she was talented and intimidating; oh god). She even made him give her his number.
It's all too much for him and his fragile heart, and it certainly doesn't help that people mock him for being meek. Now that he has a girl almost four inches taller than him commanding his every moment, he feels that his life couldn't get much worse. It's like the Italian's obsessed with torturing him. Every single day, he gets taunted more and more, and every single day, he misses more and more of his homework because god, there was no use to life and shit like this. There was no need to put up with things like this.
Why would Silver even dedicate her time to torturing him anyway, especially since his mere presence makes her cringe in disgust (her own words)?
In fact, he seriously wonders why the hell she would do so much to avenge Gold.
(Kris doesn't want to seem...bigoted or anything, but there are rumors that Silver might be a little...in love with Gold, and although he doesn't want to assume anything, the way the girl's so overprotective of Gold doesn't really scream 'platonic'. But, he's definitely not sure, and definitely wouldn't want to offend anyone by assuming their romantic preference, so he holds his tongue.)
So every single morning, at exactly seven twenty-eight, Silver slides into the seat next to his, hair neatly done up and gaze unwavering. This morning, however, her uniform's a bit messed up, the top two buttons loose, and Kris tries to not offend her and timidly brings the matter up. Maybe if he's nice to her, she'll pick on him less.
"Your uniform's a bit messed up; you should button it up more."
Normally, at seven thirty-three, the train arrives at the next stop, one stop before Gold gets on the train, and Silver glares at him for no reason, making him shiver and sit straighter; at which time, he fiddles at the buttons on his uniform with his sweaty, clumsy hands, because he doesn't want to offend Silver any more and -oh god she's actually really scary.
But this time, Silver actually full-out glares at him as the doors slide open, the pattering of strangers' feet echoing in the background, and she even bites out a bitter retort, her eyes shining with barely withheld fury. Kris automatically leans further back in his seat, gravitating towards the window to be as far as possible from the angry girl, and he's sure she'll kill him now. Silver curses a lot, and even though Kris uses 'fuck' like every single sentence, it's something different when a person as dignified and cold as Silver uses it in anger.
"I'm so glad you fucking noticed. It's not like I did this shit for you or anything. Don't feel like you have to comment on it, you bastard."
And as Kris whimpers under the harsh gaze of the redheaded girl with the temper to boot, he tries to ignore the height advantage the girl has over him, and clings onto the train windows. There might be oily fingerprints on there (yuck) but it's better than risking a possible exchange with Silver. He can never understand Silver. No matter what he does, it's never enough to lessen the derogatory remarks.
He thinks about how school has become hell, because now everyone knows him and everyone laughs at him and pushes him around, and he's just this pathetic fool shivering in a corner. He hates school. He hates how the teachers never bother to stop them, because boys couldn't be bullied and Silver was never bullying him because she's a girl and they never bothered to help him.
Silver's still angry right next to him, and it's all he can do from breaking down and punching the goddamn train because, why, why him?
When Gold comes in, uniform worn in ways all against school dress code and unruly hair tied into a messy bun, he almost collapses in a puddle of relief that finally, someone's here to distract Silver. He stands up in a motion to let Gold sit down in his seat, because the train's already a bit crowded and with the way Gold acts, she probably attracts more attention than is good. He doesn't have to deal with Silver for maybe a few minutes now.
Gold touches his shoulder in a way that is more familiar than he can accept, looking over his shoulder to (presumably?) Silver, whom Kris doesn't dare to look back at. She smiles and moves to take his seat, even brushing her hand against his butt (fuck that is too much nope no way no way he gets that it's Gold and she's just joking around but oh god don't do it in front of Silver she'll kill him and also he hates being touched even on the hand so so much why this why), and giggling when he whips his head around to stare at her with a confused and extremely paranoid face.
He can see the dark aura emanating from Silver, just a foot away from Gold.
Just fuck his life, he thinks.
Fuck.
At eight-twenty, the three get off the train and Kris trails behind, sticking his ungloved poor hands into his tight jacket pockets, by himself. He walks about ten paces behind Silver and Gold, and wonders how just one fucking clumsy movement from him could land him into this much shit. Every single day, he's humiliated, looked down upon, and even though there are people who won't hurt him, like Red and Leaf and Hilda and Hilbert, they won't help defend him either. The four of them always try to comfort him and give him more food though, so he knows that they're good people. Just not strong enough to go against Silver. That's what he thinks.
Gold and Silver stop up ahead, and he, not noticing soon enough, crashes into Silver, who flails around in surprise before turning back to glare at him. Her bangs cover her eyes. He's a bit glad. Her true wrath with the fury of a queen would probably be enough to kill him with one glance. They have stopped on the steps of the school; it is now that he knows that they're going to dump their shit on him, even though they're both athletic.
Hell, Silver knows how to shoot a goddamn pistol, why can't she carry her own books?
But no, they stick it with the nerd with no arm strength, and who will never build up any because he's always too busy trying to protect his vital organs on the dirty bathroom floor while they just stand by and pretend to care.
Gold winks at him and dumps her books on him, even though he knows she's on the track team and could probably carry more than he, a fucking booknerd, can. Gold's never an active participant, and oftentimes she gives Kris pitying looks, and Kris sometimes just wants to reach out to Gold and have someone understand him, but Gold's too loyal to Silver. However, Gold always tries to help him after. It's the thought that counts, he guesses. Silver just drops her stuff straight to the ground, and he almost has to dive to get it all before it touches the litter and grime, managing to rip his already old, tattered school uniform even further, because heaven knows what kind of torture she'd manage to push on him if he let just a single, expensive item of hers touch the dirty ground.
He hates how rich she is, and how she doesn't give a shit about him and the humility he's been suffering just because he messed up one fucking time. She has no morals, he thinks. None. He hates her.
He'll have to spend fifteen minutes he doesn't have dodging people and trying to put books in both of their lockers.
Yes, at eight-thirty, Kris'll be late for class, and as he's sent down to Professor Oak's office for a late pass, he wonders how the hell he's gotten so many people on his bad side.
Just fuck his life, he thinks.
Fuck it all, because he doesn't deserve to be given this much shit. He'll do anything to change this.
Anything.