ïŒ âââ  .. â±âżá”á”ËŁ : RANDOM QUESTION PROMPTS , CURRENTLY ACCEPTING. .. @felt1t , will. â WHY DO THEY TREAT ME LIKE THAT? â
the lockers still ring with this afterimage of laughter that wasn't ever funny to begin with. the belly has already come and gone and the hallway keeps steady the way hallways are meant to, bodies flowing around the wreckage of lucas and will without ever stopping. junior high has never been a place to pause and assess the damage done to the "little guys".
will is still on the ground when lucas reaches him. not down down, nothing cinematic, but doubled with palms flat and knees scabbed. lucas's chest does that little thing it does in moments like these ( ... ) hitch sharp, memories loading. IT MIGHT BE A DIFFERENT HALLWAY, BUT THE MATH IS STILL THE SAME: he's been there and it's always dumb kids with dumber reasons and too much room to swing their dumb arms around. â they're assholes. â he says, one hand out like muscle memories and clock works and such. lucas takes will by the hand, as they don't have to negotiate this part, and he pulls will to his feet with a grunt. â they treat everybody like that. â a beat. then comes the correction because lucas isn't stupid and will isn't stupid. â okay, no, they don't. but you don't have to let 'em ! â
lucas reaches for will's backpack without much asking to, fixing the strap that's been twisted up and brushing off the dust. ( A SMALL THING, BUT IT MATTERS ALL THE SAME. ) he remembers a time, sixth grade, behind the gym and both of them bleeding a bit and laughing because they looked utterly ridiculous. he remembers dustin attempting to fix lucas's busted bookbag strap with electrical tape as though that would ever work. it hadn't.
â maybe you should start punchin' people. â lucas continues, nodding once, solid and decisive. he's cracked the code ! â like .. emotionally punch. â and lucas makes a weak jab in the air.