Michael brushed his crimson hair to the back as he shut his journal, flicking his pen against the pages in exasperation. This was the hobby he had found himself doing in the past few years, considering his existence had been disregarded by everyone in his school.
But he had been expecting it, the very sufferings that pinned upon him with great pressure, with no arm taken up to defend him whatsoever. This was the pathetic life of a cripple, someone who remained completely talentless in a world of talented people.
Well, at least not literally. If writing and ignoring bullies was a superpower, then he'd be ranking SS at the moment, because he knew nothing than a pen and a journal whenever he settled down on his desk. Flicking words for hours regardless of every odd around him.
Michael Alastair was his own talent.
He took a piercing look into the morning sky, the sun piercing back into his eyes as it washed in through the shutters. How long had he been writing? An hour? Two? However long it was, he felt a pang of newness, like he had been juggled into the plot of a twenty minute long story to live as the main character, a supervillain who wanted to see to the destruction of the entire world.
Michael supported such fallacies, and not because he admired the motives of villains but because he himself had been mentally honed to the extent of believing that there was no hope in helping humanity.
The world was a cruel place, and that was only because he had no powers to speak of.
And because he wasn't like them, he had to be treated differently.
As he thought over the sadness the reality brought, a soccer ball landed on his face, causing him to swipe his writing materials to the floor. It followed by the snickers of a bunch of kids, who on purpose had made him a target.
This wasn't surprising, in fact in the very least, this was just a tip of the troubles he went through under the arms of his bullies. He couldn't fight back, not because he did not want to but because they would always have an advantage with their talents.
So, on times like this, he'd rather just keep shut and ignore. That was his literal superpower after all.
Michael bent over to pick up his journal, but another hand reached for it instead. Looking up, his sapphire red pair of eyes met a guy with blonde hair and a young face. His golden eyes and scars told of his struggles with bullies, like he too had gotten a taste of being overpowered.
But he was new, Michael remembered a fortnight back when the boy was first introduced to the class, looking all frail and naive. He had guessed then and there that he was in for problems.
What was his name again...?
"Let go." Michael warned, his voice sending ripples through the blonde's soul.
"I... I was only trying to help." The boy stuttered.
"You'd get yourself in more trouble."
It wasn't long after Michael drowned into his desk that he heard a sharp wince. Looking up, he saw the blonde in distress as a classmate pull tightly on his hair as if to rip it off.
"Hey newbie!" The bully grinned, he was a square faced boy named Steven, one of Michael's many and major assailants. "Didn't no one tell you about the rules?"
"What rules?!" The blonde guy yelled in pain.
"No talking to the cripple, or you'll get hit." Steven bashed his face into the locker, and the moment he dug it out, blood drippled down it.
The bully raised his arms in the air in attempt to give the bully a punch. "Here's what we do to people who don't follow the rules."
Steven brought his fists downwards, aiming for the blonde's face. But it caught immediately. Startled, he looked at the arm that held his in a tight grip.
"That's enough." Michael said, clenching Steven's arm.
Why was he doing this again? It was the blonde's problem to defend himself, not him. When did he start standing up for others?
"I was just going to impart a lesson." Steven sighed. "But you always manage to get on my nerves every time."
The air couldn't let out half a gasp as quick as Steven issued his other fist and dug it into Michael's stomach, sending him spiraling and crashing into the nearby wall.
Steven wouldn't lay a finger on Michael without using his talent... Physical Cast, Rank C. It was an ability that made the body stronger than average. A common one.
"Get up." Steven groaned underneath his breath as he approached Michael. "You're not done yet."
His eyes let out a fierce ethereal glow and he grabbed Michael, huffing the warmth of anger against his face. Michael hadn't said a word to him, he just kept on smiling... Like he always did.
"So you like to smile huh?" Steven demanded. "How about I take it off your face forever?"
He raised his fist for another punch but the sound of the door stopped him.
"What's going on here?" It was Ms. Akane, their ethics teacher. She had butt in just when the fight was about to escalate.
Steven let go off Michael's collar, rather dusting off his jacket with a friendly approach, a fake smile creasing up his face.
"After school, I'm gonna make you bleed." He whispered and strolled off to his locker.
* * *
"Is this ever going to stop?" The school nurse, Mr Diego, stifled a frown at Michael as he healed his wounds. His cuts closed up at just the nurse's touch, light brimming beneath his hands as they healed.
This was the Support Talent... Healing.
"Don't worry Mr D." Michael grinned. "I'm going to be fine."
"I'm not asking for you!" Mr Diego raised his voice. "Do you know how fruitless every last healing seems whenever you return back here with another fractured bone?"
"..."
"So you find starting fights enjoyable right?"
"I didn't start it this time, I swear!" Michael quickly denied. "It's just..hard you know? Avoiding all the hate."
The nurse leaned in closer. "Have you thought of transferring schools, you should change into an environment where not everyone knows you and..."
"I appreciate your efforts to push me away but, it's not about the people here, it's about me, my unlucky reputation just keeps following me around like a boomerang."
"Not like there's anything you can do about that." Mr Diego shrugged.
"I don't know...you might have some potion that could give me talents." Michael winked at him.
"Haha funny." The nurse stood up from the side of the stretcher and headed towards his desk. "Before you leave, take your friend with you, he doesn't seem to know how to leave."
Michael looked to the side of the bed and towards the blonde hair guy who just jittered in fear, curled up in a ball as his eyes widened at the nurse.
It wasn't surprising, after all, Mr Diego was the grandson of a brain washed scientist who once wanted to begin the infusion of the talents of a dead person into a living human.
That was until he was caught, currently being confined by the psychiatry police. At least, the man was all they could capture, they couldn't capture his familiar, horrendous look that Mr Diego obviously inherited.
Most times, it made Michael question if the nurse was secretly a crazy scientist.
"He's not my friend."
And he wasn't wrong because he didn't make friends. This blonde haired guy was the reason he was probably going to get a good beating after school.
"Gee, I can't wait until school's over." He muttered sarcastically,staring disgustedly at the blonde.