#spyo

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A Quiet Intervention ⛅️🌟

Requested by @dr3am-caf3

Pairing: Nega Scott x Winter Lightstone

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The final bell shrieked, an earsplitting assault that sent the typical torrent of high school students surging into the hallways. Winter Lightstone, with her neatly braided hair and a stack of textbooks clutched to her chest, navigated the chaotic tide like a seasoned sailor weathering a storm. The last place she expected to find herself was caught in the aftermath of a fight, let alone tending to the school's resident troublemaker, Nega Scott.

Nega Scott, the embodiment of everything Winter wasn't, usually occupied the polar opposite ends of the school's social spectrum. While Winter excelled in academics and avoided conflict, Nega Scott thrived on pushing boundaries, his rebellious reputation preceding him like a thundercloud. He was a familiar sight in the principal's office, a frequent visitor to detention, and the source of countless hushed whispers and worried glances from faculty. Yet, Winter had always found herself intrigued by the fierce spark in his eyes and the raw, untamed energy that emanated from him. She knew he wasn't a bad person, merely misunderstood.

The typical post-bell buzz was replaced by a more subdued, tense atmosphere. The usual rush of students seemed to avoid a particular section of the west hallway, creating a small eddy in the river of bodies. Curiosity piqued, Winter found herself drawn toward the area. As she neared, a small cluster of lingering students whispered, their eyes wide with the thrill of gossip. "Did you see it?" one hissed. "He really laid him out!"

Winter's breath caught as she peered around a corner. There, slumped against the dented green lockers, was Nega Scott. His signature dark clothes were torn and scuffed, a trickle of blood escaping from his nose, painting a grim stripe across his pale cheek. A dark bruise was already blossoming beneath his left eye, and his lower lip was split, a small gash that continued to bleed sluggishly. He looked disoriented, his usually fiery gaze now distant and unfocused. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, and he winced as he shifted, a low groan escaping his lips.

A wave of unexpected compassion washed over Winter. She was a good student, a rule-follower, but seeing him so vulnerable, stripped of his usual defiance, touched a nerve deep within her. He needed help, and at that moment, she found herself unable to turn away. She had a first aid kit in her backpack, something she always carried, a testament to her meticulous nature and preparedness.

Winter approached cautiously. The whispering students dispersed as she neared, leaving the two of them alone in the quiet hum of the emptying hallway. "Nega Scott?" she asked, her voice soft but clear.

He flinched, his head snapping up. His red eyes, though still clouded, narrowed slightly as he recognized her. "Winter?" he mumbled, his voice raspy. "What do you want?"

"You're hurt," Winter replied, her gaze sweeping over his injuries. "You need to clean those cuts before they get infected." She knelt before him, pulling out her first aid kit.

He scoffed, a flicker of his usual defiance returning. "I'm fine. Just leave me alone." He attempted to push himself up, but a sharp wince of pain shot through him, and he slumped back against the lockers.

Winter met his gaze, her expression firm. "No, you're not," she said gently. "And I'm not leaving until I make sure you're taken care of." She held out a small bottle of antiseptic and some gauze.

He stared at the items, then at her, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He had expected judgment, disdain, maybe even mockery, but not this. Winter Lightstone, the quiet, studious girl, was offering him help.

"Just let me clean this," she said, nodding toward his bleeding lip. "It'll feel better, I promise."

Slowly, reluctantly, Nega Scott nodded. Winter carefully cleaned the gash, her touch surprisingly gentle. He gritted his teeth, but didn't pull away. The antiseptic stung, but the cool gauze felt soothing against his throbbing lip.

Winter continued to clean his cuts and scrapes, applying antibiotic ointment and bandages. She worked efficiently, her movements precise and sure. As she tended to his bloody nose, pressing a cool, damp cloth against it, he finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "Why are you doing this, Winter?"

Winter looked up, meeting his gaze. "Because everyone deserves a little kindness, even if they don't always show it."

A surprised huff of air escaped his lips, a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "You think I'm not kind?"

Winter paused, considering her words. "You have your moments," she said diplomatically, a faint smile playing on her lips. "You have a good heart, Nega Scott. You just hide it under a lot of bravado."

He looked away, a flush creeping up his neck. No one had ever spoken to him like that before, not with such honesty and lack of judgment. He was used to being labeled, shoved into a convenient box, but Winter saw beyond the surface.

"Who was it?" she asked softly, her voice filled with genuine concern. "Who did this to you?"

Nega Scott hesitated, his jaw tightening. "Doesn't matter," he muttered, shaking his head.

"It does matter," Winter insisted, her voice gaining a touch of firmness. "You can't just let people hurt you and get away with it."

He finally met her gaze, his eyes shadowed with a mix of anger and something akin to shame. "They were talking trash about…" He trailed off, his voice thick with unsaid emotions.

Winter waited patiently, her gaze unwavering. She didn't push him, sensing he needed time to process his feelings. Eventually, he continued, his voice barely audible. "They were making fun of you."

Winter's eyes widened in surprise. "Me?" she exclaimed, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, avoiding her gaze. "Said you were a boring bookworm, a teacher's pet, all that crap." He clenched his fists, a fresh wave of anger washing over him. "I told them to shut up, and then… it just escalated."

Winter stared at him, a myriad of emotions swirling within her. She was touched by his unexpected defense, by the fact that he, the troublemaker, had stood up for her, the shy, good student. It was a stark contrast to how everyone else saw them, and it further solidified her belief that he was more than met the eye.

"You didn't have to do that, Nega Scott," she said softly, her voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and concern. "You shouldn't have risked yourself for me."

He finally looked at her, his red eyes blazing with a fierce intensity. "They were wrong, Winter," he said, his voice surprisingly firm. "You're not boring. You're… you're smart, and kind, and…" He trailed off, searching for the right words, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "You're not like the rest of them."

A warmth spread through Winter's chest, a feeling she hadn't anticipated. Nega Scott's words, so unexpected and sincere, resonated deep within her. He saw her, not just the labels, but the person underneath.

"Thank you, Nega Scott," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "That means a lot to me."

He finally managed a small, hesitant smile. "No problem, Winter." The hallway was now completely deserted, the last lingering students long gone. The lingering scent of antiseptic and old gym socks hung in the air, a peculiar backdrop to their unexpected connection.

Winter finished applying a final bandage to a cut on his eyebrow. "You should probably go to the nurse's office," she suggested, packing up her first aid kit.

He shook his head. "Nah, I'll be fine. I've had worse."

Winter sighed, but didn't press the issue. She knew Nega Scott was stubborn, and pushing him would only make him retreat further. "Well, at least promise me you'll keep the cuts clean and change the bandages regularly," she said, her voice laced with a hint of motherly concern.

He looked at her, a flicker of surprise in his red eyes once more. "I will," he promised, his voice surprisingly soft. "Thanks, Winter."

Winter smiled, a genuine, heartwarming smile that reached her eyes. "You're welcome, Nega Scott."

QUEER