Y/N rolls out of bed, as he slips on his woolen shoes. He sits on his bed, contemplating life.
Everyday he gets punched, stepped on. A living punching bag, and for a reason he's never known.
"Why me? Why is this the same everyday.." He reluctantly gets out of bed, closing his head close to the door, wary of footsteps and voices.
As he confirms there's nothing behind the wall, he slowly opens, stealthily walking to get breakfast. The hallways stretched longer than they usually did, he thought as he walked.
It never ceases to end, as Y/N panicked. He started to speed walk, then turn to run but tripped.
"The hell.." His knees slid on the sturdy carpet, as they burned red.
Turning his head around, he saw RWBY, with the exception of Weiss and Ruby.
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His bounded his feet up, staring at both their faces. The blonde hair girl, Yang, soon leaped forward cupping his entire face, smashing it to the floor.
The force she mustered had enough strength to half a mountain, though Y/N had a durable enough aura so he didn't fall to ill.
Y/N protected his head, wrapping his fist behind his head, bringing his elbows close. He grunted as they thrashed with no breath of rest.
He couldn't argue, nor ask for help. He'd be subjugated to a worse treatment, make his life worse than hell; which is a surprise in on itself.
Blood cleared the floor, as blood dripped from his numb arms. He couldn't feel them.
"Clean this up before any teachers come back, got it?" She spat, as she stayed still, waiting for a response.
Suddenly out of trance, he profusely nodded. She smiled ruffling his hair, "Good boy."
Blake uttered nothing, her expression explained enough. Her amber eyes had bear resentment, as if he was inferior; pitiful. And so he was, Y/N agreed.
The arms still lingered numbness, but still had enough strength to sweep the bloody carpet. He dusted off his clothes, and sat against the wall.
Y/N never felt completely powerless as he had an amazing girlfriend, Weiss. She's the reason why he endures this onslaught. Fighting back would backfire as the reputation the girls had.
"Plus.. I'd fucking die..." His body shivered at the thought. He knew he had it bad but, at least he had support.
That reminded him, "I should check on her," he thought. He brought out his scroll, a smile forging on his lips, not wanting to let go.
He coughed, and dusted off his clothes, checked his hair and made sure to present himself. He stretched his arms, showing his head— down to his chest.
She connected the call, the smile never escaping. "Weiss," he said softly.
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