#juicebox

He still felt the blood warm on his skin, still heard the distant chatter of reporters and sirens. 

It was an accident. A dumb little slip of his fingers that ended up in some useless, pesky bug being exploded by his otherworldly grasp. Nothing that really mattered. He rolled his eyes as he remembered the huge commotion his little mishap created. It was too overwhelming, so now he was on a power walk as he tried to calm himself down. After all, there were a few shots left for the new Planet Vought establishment, if he remembered correctly. Lucky thing his costume’s gloves were red, so no need to change clothes.

Humans were so dramatic. Over one, just one singular life ending- at this point, they should be used to it, he thought. Yet they still acted like every single life was worth thousands, and hurried to scream so freaking loudly every single time.

That’s what made him different. What made every single interaction feel like he was an alien trying to understand another species’ behaviour. That’s what happens when your fondest childhood memory is a scientist reading bedtime stories to you in your little prison cell. Right as his thoughts wandered to the tender wound that still was his first memories, his breath hitched.

Without realizing, he had walked up to an elementary school. Just his luck.

In less than you could say breast milk, he was already hiding behind the pillars of the building, but his ears betrayed him. The sounds of children yelling, laughing and playing around filled his mind. Generally, they simply annoyed him. Pesky little shits, he thought, rolling his eyes again.

“Pass the ball!”

“Let’s play house! I’ll be the mom…” “I’ll be the dog!”

“Gimme the pink crayon! I need it for my flower!”

Just the sound of their voices was starting to piss him off again. How come these little rats had the chance to act as if there was nothing more important in the world than a goddamn seesaw? How come he never—

A small thud. Homelander looked down and found a small head bumping on his chest:

“Oop” She lifted her face. He wasn’t sure if it was a lost child or a teacher until he noticed the cardboard box on her hands, filled with juice cartons. And he braced himself for the reaction, as always, although he couldn’t force the paparazzi smile out. He was still quite upset.

But no gasp came out of her. No screaming, either. Not even an ‘oh my god’. She raised her eyebrows, blinking once before pointing to his face:

“Um, you have blood here.” She moved her hand and gestured to her own cheek, her voice quite different from what he expected. It was a little monotone, like she had already had a long day, even though it was barely eleven in the morning. Then, much to his surprise, she shifted the cardboard box to her side, resting it on her hip, before rummaging through her pocket and taking out a tissue. Her hand went up, offering it to him without further explanation.

He had to admit— he was a bit offended at the lack of reaction. His eyes went to the tissue, staring at it like it was foreign before blurting out: “Do you know who I am?”

She simply nodded: “Mhm.” Again, pointing to her cheek. “You still have blood on you.”

It was almost as if the calm practicality of her words produced a short-circuit on his head. He took the tissue like it was the most fragile thing in the world, rubbing it slowly on his face. As he did that, the children continued to scream and run around. A little girl tripped. Another laughed. A whistle blew. The world kept moving. He wiped the blood away in silence.

The silence turned out to be a little awkward, so she offered him a juice box: “Want one?”

Now it was the second time she had left the Homelander flabbergasted. He was used to people giving him more… expensive gifts, to say the least. Or at least symbolic in some way. This was merely a box filled with juice— the kind that doesn’t even leave you feeling quenched enough. But the smile she gave him, one that wasn’t screaming ‘I genuinely worship you’ or ‘please get in my pants’ was what confused him the most. For everyone else, that was just a tired teacher’s smile, prepared for nervous children or temper tantrums. For him it was almost a bit religious, but he wouldn’t realize it at first. So looked at the little apple juice box in confusion, taking it and crushing it with his hands just a little. Then, another silence. This time it felt awkward for him as well.

The words that came out of his mouth surprised him: “...Thanks.” It was almost foreign on his vocabulary. She simply nodded: “You’re welcome.” Right as she said that, the school bell rang. She glanced back at the building, distracted by her duty. Unlike everyone else in his life, her attention didn’t orbit him— and that left him in a confused state once again.

Before turning to walk away, she pointed to the little box: “You’re supposed to shake it first”.

And just like that, it was over. No selfies, no questions, just a small wave and the feeling that suddenly, the world was moving slower had ended. He had just realized it at that moment. When it was over. Homelander’s X ray vision allowed him to stare at her as she walked down a hallway inside of the school, a group of small children following her. The juice carton still on his hand like a sacred object.

But the world kept spinning. A familiar headache came back: Ashley was probably having a meltdown somewhere. He hadn’t answered his phone in god knows how long. He didn’t want to come back just yet, though.

Flying over to the school rooftop, he sat down criss cross applesauce and listened to the  best of his ability. Truth be told, he wasn’t just listening to school sounds— he was searching for one specific voice. Filtering through ambient noise, the chaos of children and, once again, that tone. Soft. Just a little monotone. So patient, almost tired. Mindlessly, he followed it, flying down until he found the window of her class.

For any member of The Seven, the position their leader was in right now would’ve been the cause of a controlled laugh. Maybe even a chuckle, because it was certainly ridiculous. Only his eyes could be seen as he floated behind the window, right under the floorboards, observing as the small, patient teacher crouched beside a small desk, sounding out a word with a kid. The rest of the class is a disaster, one Homelander isn’t used to: children walking around as if they ruled the place, pencils on the floor, tiny chairs pushed around the entire classroom. The sunlight shone over her features in a way that he could only describe as angelic.

She didn’t raise her voice. She simply repeated herself, a little slower. When a boy started crying over a mistake, she moved to him immediately, kneeling down, speaking in a tone that made him feel something weird inside of his chest:

“It’s alright, love. We can try again, right?” The little boy nodded. She nodded as well, giving him a smile. Homelander stood very still. At this point in time, the only thing he knows for certain is that he wants to be inside of that room. He wants to be spoken to in that exact same register, he wants to be corrected as gently as she did, he wants to receive that many chances even if he messes up again and again. But there’s one thing that he understands just as well, and it’s that he cannot have it. The magic would be ruined if he entered.

So he stays outside. Afraid that if he’ll enter, he’ll break the spell.

Hai!! It's my first time uploading a fic to tumblr in a loooong time, I hope you like it!! ( 〃▽〃)