In the classroom, the whispers grew to a dull roar, the story of the confrontation spreading like wildfire. Alastair felt their eyes on him, a mix of awe and confusion. He was used to the jeers and snickers that followed him like a shadow, but this... this was something new. The whispers grew louder, the air thick with speculation.
"Did you hear about Alastair standing up to Eren?"
"I can't believe he finally snapped."
"It's about time someone put that jerk in his place."
The whispers swirled around him like a tornado, pulling him in different directions. Each pair of eyes that met his seemed to demand an answer, an explanation for his sudden transformation. But Alastair couldn't find the words to explain. He had never been the hero in his own story, never the one who faced the dragon head-on. It was Liana who had done the fighting for him.
The truth was, everyone was surprised because it was always Eren who spat the first slur. The idea that Alastair, the quiet, bruised boy, could stand up for himself was as foreign as a snowstorm in a tropical jungle. Yet, as the whispers grew, Alastair fear of Eran grew..
Mr. Ablust's voice boomed over the murmur, "Alright, class, settle down, settle down! Today, we'll be talking about my favorite subject, ancient Egypt!" His eyes twinkled with excitement, as if he'd just announced the school was giving out free ice cream for lunch.
The room fell silent, all eyes on the towering figure at the front of the room. His blonde hair, often underestimated as a sign of a lack of intellectual depth, was meticulously combed back, revealing a sharp, angular face. He was dressed in his usual attire: a pink collared shirt with an excessive number of buttons that seemed to flow down like a waterfall of fabric, tucked neatly into his khaki pants. His dress shoes shone so brightly that they could've reflected the sun, had there been any in the windowless classroom.
Mr. Ablust's passion for history was the stuff of legend. His eyes would light up like twin stars when he talked about Cleopatra's reign or the construction of the Great Pyramid. His voice, deep and sonorous, could make even the driest of historical facts feel like a thrilling tale of adventure. The students knew that when he spoke, it was best to listen. His knowledge was vast, his enthusiasm infectious.
He had a way of bringing the past to life, making the dusty pages of their textbooks dance with vibrant color and sound. When he talked of pharaohs and their courts, the room seemed to fill with the scent of exotic spices and the distant murmur of the Nile. His hands painted the air with grand gestures, weaving a tapestry of stories that held his pupils spellbound. They could almost feel the heat of the desert sun on their faces, the grit of the ancient sands beneath their feet.
But as Mr. Ablust's words flowed like the river that had once cradled the great civilization, Alastair couldn't help but feel a pang of annoyance at the irony of the situation. Here he was, lost in a world that was thousands of years and miles away, when his own life felt like a prison with no escape. His thoughts swirled like the sands of a desert storm, his mind racing with questions and doubt. Why did everyone think he had stood up to Eren? It was Liana who had been the warrior in the schoolyard, not him. He'd just been the trembling leaf caught in the crossfire. Right?
The bell for lunch rang, and the classroom erupted into a cacophony of chair legs scraping against the floor and books slamming shut. The sudden noise made Alastair jump, his heart hammering in his chest. The whispers had turned into a dull roar by the time he gathered his things, the anticipation of the impending confrontation weighing on him like a heavy yolk. His stomach growled, but the thought of food was overshadowed by the looming fear of facing Eren again. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside him, and stepped into the hallway.