and there is blood dripping on the front page

Monday

{ on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28162173/chapters/69007191 }

***

Erik is apathetically harassing a withered leaf drowning in mud with his massive boots.

Cool wind is shivering through the trees ‒ after all, it ought to do so now, on the threshold of winter ‒, but, despite all reason, he couldn't have been convinced to wear a sweater; clothed in his usual black leather jacket, he is sitting at his usual spot, in the window of the small space under the metal slide. He's not cold. He's absolutely fine. Freaking fantastic.

He flicks the ash off from the end of his cigarette, now butt, which is obliged to fall on his knee. Erik watches dispassionately as the grey dust crumbles on his thigh. He blows at it (Gänsehaut ‒ and he wonders how new the English language really is to have it called goose "bumps" instead of goose "skin"), and the ash is now washed away in the wind, ceased to exist; the only evidence of its once existence is the stain on his jeans. Whether the fabric is burned out or that's just the mark of the used tobacco, who knows. Who cares.

Lunch break is slowly coming to its end. He lights another cigarette protestingly when a boy marches past him and sits on a bench. He seemingly didn't spot him under the slide. Erik watches with confusion as the skinny boy pulls out and stocks in front of himself the maximum amount of books a student can carry without suffering permanent back injuries.

Somewhat surprised, but mainly just angrily, he starts methodically killing the poor leaf. (He doesn't tear his gaze from the boy ‒ those red lips should practically be banned.)

This is his place. No-one ever visited this playground. It could be, with all certainty, called abandoned. Erik was able to be alone here. Well, he is usually alone, he doesn't really have friends or anything resembling that, having won the title of the school's lone wolf successfully... but he comes here when he's absolutely had enough of even the sight of people.

And, of course, this is where he can smoke without being caught. This kind of thing was easier in Germany. In Europe, people are not so concerned about these stupid age limits, opposed to the US.

Eh, brilliant, even more people, Erik notes with a roll of his eyes, as he watches three more boys cross the playground. It definitely seems like the skinny one lured them here, but it definitely seems like it wasn't on purpose. These guys aren't his friends ‒ no, these are the bullies of the school, Erik recognizes them.

They tried their luck with him too, right on the day the teacher announced to the whole class that they were getting a new classmate straight from Germany.

Erik wouldn't have been touched by their badgering and bickering otherwise, however when an incredibly stupid one spat out an incredibly stupid comment like "The Germans, those are the nazis, right?", then the other two stupidos tasted the word as well, and it was evident that they were planning on using that name instead of the honest and exceptionally simple Erik, well, so he was basically forced to prevent this from happening at any point in the future.

The fatty happened to have his metal watch strangulate his wrist a little bit, the lanky one's tooth started aching terribly for some reason, and the leader may have not been able to pee for a while after this incident. Since then, they have left him alone.

They heroically resisted the urge even when the class stumbled upon the realization of Erik being Jewish. Hesitantly, they looked at him, then each other, then him again, and stepped closer not-so-confidently. Erik only had to blink at them with a convincing glare, for them to be scared off.