Not many people paid any attention to that ‘freak’ that always sits in the back of the classroom—I mean—who would anyways, right? His sense of fashion was questionable as well, all gothic-like and always coloured in black like it was the only sole colour he was comfortable with.

Fenrir is known to be reticent and has no ounce of emotions plastered on his bruised face, covered up with bandages given from the bullies in this school—yet it never bothered him.

But what did bother him was that a hand extended in his vision with a rolled up bandages resting in the persons palm. Fenrir could only stare up at the person before him with such coldness in his eyes, wiping away the blood trickling down his nose.

Was this some sort of jest? Why would anyone approach him like this?

“What do you want?” His words were short, simple yet effective given by the tone in his voice. He simply doesn’t trust you. Yet.