Chapter Text
«Dear diary,
As much as I tend to write, I can't get used to writing about myself. My day, my commute, redundant things like that.
But here I am, first day of my senior year. I'd love to be able to notice differences in people, but there are still people who are just as stupid. Football players with two brain cells to rub together, girls with an IQ so low they don't even come to class. Airheads, do you know what I mean? Am I already crazy for talking to my diary like it's a real person?»
The pen slid down Ezreal's leg as soon as a knee interrupted him. When he looked up, he was greeted by a girl with a sweet gaze and pink hair. She gave him a smile.
“Ez, Qiyana wants to see you.”
Ezreal sighed. “Can't she handle her own business this time?”
“Just come. You know she doesn't like to wait too long, especially when it comes to matters like this one.”
The boy got up and closed his notebook. Break time, cafeteria, high school: a dangerous combination that only the strongest can handle. Seraphine, tangled around his arm, led him at a brisk pace to her friends' table.
“You're so, so slow. Men, always men,” Qiyana rolled her eyes. Her elbows rested on the table, in front of her a tray containing only a plate of lettuce and a bottle of water. She got up from the table, followed by a third girl, who stayed by her side no matter what.
Qiyana's shoes made a sharp sound as her index finger gently pressed down on Ezreal's shoulder. “Sett is going to send Alune an invitation to his welcome party... And that's where you come in.”
Ezreal parted his lips.
“Alune?”
“Well, duh, Alune. I made myself very, very clear. Now, are you going to do it or not? I have pen and paper. There's nowhere to write, Seraphine!”
Seraphine took a couple of steps forward and reluctantly bent down, while Ezreal placed the paper on her back, hesitant.
“All right, write, uh... ‘Dear Alune, I've been thinking about us a lot since that day. There are days when I wish I could kiss your lips again, so why don't you come with me to the welcome party tonight? I can't wait to see you, baby. Love, Settrigh.’ Oh, add XOXO and a heart.”
The boy slid the pen skillfully, a frown that denoted as much concentration as concern. He glanced sideways at a lonely table: it was Alune and her brother Aphelios. Both good friends of his, of course, before Ezreal succumbed to the army of popular kids.
«I'm the only guy in a clique of popular girls. Sure, I've attracted rumors, but these days people only respect me because I hang out with them.
Seraphine is the captain of the cheerleading team, and I've heard that the theater kids often seek her out because of her presence. Ahri is loved by many for her eloquence, leadership on the student council, yearbook, event planner. And they say her breasts are fake. Qiyana is a pretentious queen bee, loves making everyone’s life impossible. Just as a reminder, they’re my best friends. Supposedly.
Well, I’ve know Aphelios and Alune since kindergarten. Alune supposedly kissed Sett on a basketball court when we were in middle school, but I don’t buy that story. Qiyana took advantage of that and now wants to bully her whenever she can, as long as her brother isn't around. Phel is tough, I think it's pretty cowardly of Qiyana. Nobody usually stands up to him. However, she left the note for Alune at the girls' bathroom. She said it was from Sett.
I still feel bad about that. Qiyana is a bitch, even though I know guys shouldn't refer to women that way. I'm not a jerk, but it's the truth. And while I was waiting for the girls to get out of the bathroom, I saw a guy I'd never seen before. He's wearing weird clothes, they're probably gonna mess with him.»
Ezreal sat at a table in the cafeteria while his friends went to the restroom. He had been staring at that table in the back for quite some time. He had known Akali since first grade, but who was that sitting next to her? She had never mentioned a boyfriend before.
He got up, driven by curiosity. The good thing about being friends with Qiyana is that no one would think he was a “freak” if he approached someone to talk to them.
“Hey, hi, Akali. Did you like the milk carton today? It tasted different.”
“Something like that. It tasted kind of vanilla-y,” she replied. Her companion glanced sideways, but didn't say a word.
“Right? It was sweeter,” he said, looking back at the boy. “I think they changed suppliers, but the label was still the same.”
“Ixtal” said the stranger. “It was Ixtal style.”
“Ixtal-style milk?” asked Ezreal.
“That's what they call it when it's sweeter. Like Kali said, vanilla-flavored.” He ran a hand through his hair. It was black, long enough to reach his neck. A square white patch covered his left eye. He got up from his seat and took his and Akali's empty tray. “Be right back, I'm returning this.”
Once he was up, Ezreal turned his gaze back to Akali. Straight to the point: “Is he your boyfriend?”
Akali frowned.
“What?”
“Oh, sorry, I thought he was.”
“Gag me with a spoon! He's just a friend, he just arrived from Ionia. Transferred.”
A loud noise interrupted their conversation. Standing in front of the new kid were two soccer players. The boy maintained a neutral expression, and Ezreal caught a glimpse of a small smile on his face.
«He stood there while a couple of jerks called him a fag. He didn't understand why. Was it his clothes? Did wearing black make him a fag? Although, well, last year hanging out with women made me a fag.
He answered back. In a similar tone, he basically insulted them. I remember hearing Sett yell something about them being seniors and too old to be doing stuff like that. But they didn't listen and pushed that guy.
And I think what I felt was wrong.
But my stomach tingled, not from fear, but...»
“That's it, faggot, you’re dead.”
The new kid smiled, grabbing a gun from inside his clothes.
“Bite me.”
And he fired.