Her fingers gripped the pencil so tightly it almost snapped, but her face showed nothing beyond the usual disdain for the team’s jokes.
She knew exactly why he hadn’t done anything.
She knew why he didn’t look at Dark.
Why he didn’t react.
Why he didn’t care about any of it.
Not while those damned eyes still lived inside him.
Those arrogant, beautiful eyes that could leave anyone dizzy.
And that, little by little, were pulling Theo out of the world everyone else lived in.
Dru looked away, trying to hide the sting in her chest.
He might not be hers, and maybe never had been fully.
But seeing him like that, lost in someone who wasn’t even there, hurt more than she wanted to admit.
When Theo sat at the bench, the class hadn’t yet settled down.
Dark couldn’t resist. He crossed his arms over the desk, leaned forward, and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear:
— Hey, Theo… you’re a skunk now, man. He laughed at his own joke, as if it were genius. — You’ll have to screw Dru so she can make you some homemade perfume, otherwise you’re done for.
The room echoed with laughter again. Dark leaned on his elbow, satisfied.
Even Daime, in the back, held in his laughter for a moment before speaking:
— Hahaha… damn, Dark, I gotta admit, that one was good. Then he added, in that filthy, mocking tone only he had:
— But you’re still a piece of shit clown.
Dark just laughed, pleased to have gotten any reaction.
Theo, however, stayed exactly as he was, picking up tweezers and a test tube as if he were alone in the room.
He only raised his eyes slowly, looking at Dark over the rim of his glasses — and the entire class seemed to grow cold.
His voice came out calm, but sharp enough to cut:
— Tone it down, Dark. She’s not a toy.
The silence fell like a blade, instant and heavy.
Dark even pulled back, awkward, hiding behind a muttered excuse as he pretended to fiddle with the experiment.
The other students looked away.
Dru, sitting two benches away, watched everything without showing anything but the faintest twitch at her lips — as if that alone was enough to remind her why she still liked him.
Theo went back to what he was doing, without another word.
On the other side, Daime whistled low, a sly grin curling at his mouth:
— That’s my idiot with a heart… he muttered, just to himself.
The heavy creak of the door announced the chemistry teacher’s arrival — lab coat stained with white powder, crooked glasses, impatient eyes.
He stopped in the center of the room, noticing the floor still wet with splashes of peroxide.
— Who was the funny guy? his voice cut through the muffled laughter.
Silence for a few seconds.
Almost in unison, the Flagball team pointed at Theo.
The teacher widened his eyes.
— Of course it was you… had to be you, Skunk. he said, and the room collapsed into even crueler laughter.
Dark leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, savoring every second of the humiliation.
— Go on, Skunk… clean it up before I slip. he taunted, loud enough for all to hear.
Theo didn’t react. Not a muscle in his face moved.
His eyes blinked heavy, fixed on what he didn’t want to face — Dark.
The teacher tossed a rag and mop his way, impatient:
— Clean it. Now.
The sound of the rag hitting the floor echoed.
Dru stayed frozen in the corner, fingers brushing her blouse, eyes on the ground. She didn’t smile, didn’t cry, didn’t say a word — only her short breaths betrayed her discomfort.
Daime bit the tip of his tongue, twisted his lips into a crooked, mocking grin, but inside he was seething:
— Go on, Skunk. Show them you know how to scrub… he muttered, between forced chuckles and disguised hatred, glaring at Dark like he wanted to spit.
Theo picked up the rag calmly, without looking at anyone, without saying anything.
He knelt on the floor and began wiping slowly, as if it were just another drill, another routine humiliation in the name of Mother Ceres.
His wet hair fell over his face, and a single white strand was already starting to glimmer among the black.
Dark leaned forward, malicious:
— Smells like skunk and now you’ve got old man hair. Looking good on you, huh?
Theo raised his eyes for a second — cold, dead, wordless.
And Dark, though still laughing, felt that stab down his spine.
Because even on his knees, scrubbing the dirty floor, Theo still seemed… dangerous.
As he wiped, he felt the heat of all their eyes on him — Dark’s satisfaction, the teacher’s crossed arms, the team’s amusement. Even Daime grumbling in the back.
But he didn’t feel a thing.
The hatred that had always burned in his chest — that heavy rage Mother Ceres had taught him to mold — was gone.
All he saw were those damned eyes.
Blue like the sky, but with a hell burning behind.
Eyes that hunted lying souls and made the righteous tremble.
Arrogant, fragile eyes — like his own.
Eyes that, for a moment, had trusted him.
He wiped the floor unhurried, more and more distracted, as if he were scrubbing not the stains but his own memories.
Dark threw out another jab:
— Hurry up, Skunk. If your gray hairs fall on the floor, clean those too!
The class burst into laughter.
Theo smiled faintly, still on his knees, without looking at anyone.
It wasn’t a smile of acceptance.
Nor of pain.
Just… anesthetized.
Because none of it mattered.
Nothing compared to her eyes.
Daime muttered, confused and half-annoyed:
— What the hell, is this bastard turning into a monk? What’s he smiling at?
Then added, mocking:
— Bet it’s ’cause of that hot ghost… kid’s lost for good.
Dru clenched her fists by the counter, looked away, biting her lips to keep quiet.
Because she knew too.
Those blue eyes had stolen Theo’s hatred.
And that was more dangerous than anyone there could imagine.
When he finally finished and handed the mop back to the teacher, Theo stood up with that same calm no one could understand.
The white strand, still damp, seemed to shine against the black of his hair.
The laughter went on, Dark louder than the rest:
— You really do look like a skunk now, Theo. Want me to get you a perfume to hide it?
But Dru looked at him differently.
She saw what no one else did.
And it was true: he didn’t look ugly.
He looked stylish.
Different.
Sexy.
The kind of man who doesn’t react on impulse.
Who carries others’ shame to keep the group strong.
Who endures humiliation to protect the school’s name.
Who swallows insults to honor Mother Ceres.
He walked slowly down the aisle, adjusting his gray jacket on his shoulder.
The white strand seemed to shine in the black of his hair.
Some stopped laughing.
Others, without knowing why, began to look at him with respect.
In the back, Dru whispered to herself, with a faint smile and hidden tears at the corner of her eye:
— He’s beautiful even when humiliated. Beautiful because he doesn’t let the humiliation kill him.
Theo opened the door, now alone in the cold marble hallway.
He repeated in his mind the old mantra all children had learned in the courtyard, but in him it rang truer than ever:
Mother Ceres
Who teaches
Who feeds us
And who devours us!
His hand closed the door slowly behind him.
And for a moment, even Mother Ceres herself would have been proud of that white-streaked skunk.
The cafeteria buzzed with its usual routine: muffled laughter, rehearsed conversations, cutlery clinking against flawless plates. Gene chewed nervously, Dru cast furtive glances at Theo’s table, while he, in turn, kept his eyes fixed on his plate, as if trying to drown something deeper.
Suddenly, the door creaked. Everyone froze — not by order, but by instinct.
She walked in.