3 No Place in the City
/Morheim Roach!!!/
Written in big, bold red ink – smeared all over her locker door. She would be lying if she says it doesn't shake her. She gulps, looking around half expecting the villains to be watching from the corners, expectant to see her reaction. Except, Atelier is used to this already. This is hardly the first time.
Still, it stings.
She must have stood there for a long time, because the next thing she knows, the janitor suddenly appears behind her, grunting when he sees the mess. He makes no comment. After all, he has seen it happen a lot. He never interferes, never helps her clean it up.
Instead, he hands her a wet cloth. "Here," he says curtly.
"Thank –" He leaves before she can even finish her sentence.
Atelier sighs, then proceeds to scrub furiously at the ink. She is going to be late for her first class if she doesn't hurry.
She can hear the click-clacking of boots coming from around the corner. For some reasons, she suddenly has the urge to run.
"Oh, it /is/ you," says a female voice that is all too familiar to her, and not in a good way. Not at all.
In spite of herself, Atelier turns her head to the girl standing a few feet away from her. Red uniform, gold accents. Porcelain skin, sharp eyes, elegant nose, cherry lips. Long, bouncy brown waves tumble past her shoulders, and in contrast, makes Atelier's own hair look like a limp mop of mess. Unfortunately, even Atelier has to admit that Lee Soo Young is beautiful, and it isn't fair, because Lee Soo Young is the meanest, most vicious person she knows.
Maybe it is because she /is/ the Primarch's daughter and shares his disdain for non-Elites, especially Morheimers in particular, but there has never been a day where Soo Young doesn't make school life a living hell for Atelier. As royalty and Queen Bee of the academy, what Soo Young does, the others follow.
"I was wondering what that terrible smell was. Turns out it's you," she mocks, pinching her nose as if to prove her point. "Go figure."
That was a childish jab. Atelier ignores her, or at least, tries to. She turns back to her locker and continues cleaning. She takes a deep breath and counts from ten. /Ten, nine, eight./
"Feels bad, huh? School will be over soon, and you'll have to go back to your sad little life in that shit hole you call home. All these years wastefully using our resources – all for naught! You must feel sorry for yourself."
/Seven, six, five, four –/
"I mean, you didn't think you could change your fate with just a high school diploma given to you out of pity... did you?"
Atelier glares at her, but it looks more hurtful than angry. Soo Young feigns surprise and puts a hand to her mouth.
"You did?" she gasps, then laughs. "You actually /think/ you could stay in Pandemonium forever. How naive!" She cocks her head and smirks. "Listen, you don't belong here. No matter how hard you try, you will never make it. You will never be accepted as one of us. You will always be a Morheimer, Atelier /Roach./"
Atelier clenches her fists. She wants to knock Soo Young onto the floor and grab her head and scream into her face – /it's Atelier Rosche!/ But she can't do anything.
She never can do anything.
---
The second-floor washroom in the old wing of the academy is Atelier's safe space.
It is quiet, clean. Hardly anyone uses it anymore since the official launch of the new wing, after most classes relocate over there. Which means no one would bother her when she's sitting in one of the stalls. She frequents this washroom every time she is upset and things aren't going well. In other words, it is a place for her to hide in and bawl her eyes out over self-pity.
After her encounter with Soo Young, Atelier didn't feel like going to class anymore. It doesn't matter anyway; they won't miss her. She wanted – pretty much needed – to cry, so to the washroom it was. The moment she sat on the porcelain seat she burst into tears and wouldn't stop.
That was 30 minutes ago. Now, she doesn't know how she will be able to face anyone with her red eyes and blotchy face.
Sniffling, she makes her way to the sinks and splashes cold water onto her face. She dampens her hair a little and rakes her fingers through to sort tangles. She sighs when she sees her reflection in the mirror. Pathetic. She really has no place in the city. But after struggling for nearly six years, she just has to hope. She takes a deep breath again and squares her shoulders, but they sag down almost immediately.
Oh, who is she kidding?
Sighing once again in defeat, she heads out the door.
There are times when Atelier is glad she kept her eyes on the ground, because it means she won't have to look at the nasty faces people pulls at her, but there are also times when she /really/ wishes she paid more attention to where she is going. Like now, as she knocks into a tall figure and drops her backpack. The zip isn't pulled, and her belongings spill across the floor. She curses herself for not keeping it in her locker.
"Sorry," she mutters, not daring to look up in case she is in for a scolding or another round of insults. She doesn't think she is at fault though, because clearly, whoever this person is has been standing directly outside the washroom door for whatever reason. But she isn't about to pick a fight, so she bends down to pick up her stuff and prays that the person would walk away and leave her alone.
But he doesn't. Instead, he scoops up her things before she could, and holds them out to her. "Don't worry. It's really not your fault. I should be the one to say sorry. Sorry."
The familiarity of the voice stuns her, this time in a good way. She glances up so quickly it's a miracle she didn't snap her neck. That voice! She'd recognise it anywhere. She wonders though, if it would be better if she got it wrong this time, because she looks a mess. But fate works in wondrous – if slightly horrible – ways, and true enough, she finds herself looking right at Jeon Jungkook.
