Heal My Wounds {Levi x Bullied!Reader}

Welcome To Titan High

You say  alone in your bus seat, with your head hung low like a ball on a string. Your hair slightly overtook your facial features, hiding the cocktail of anger and sorrow that dwelled on your face. You sadly knew this year wouldn't be any different; as far as you were concerned: there was never going to be a major difference. To this young high school student, life was a broken record that played the same insults and put-downs day after wretched day.

The entire public vehicle was filled with blatant shoutings of hatred towards other peers as it came to a halt in the front of a large, old brick building. Kids sped out of their seats and towards the exit of the bus, making it resemble the ants as they spew out of an anthill.

All the kids, of course, except for the small girl: you. You crept slowly from her seat, and tries to blend in with the herd of rowdy jocks and bleach blondes. But it wasn't doing much for you, since you stuck out like white-out on black paper. While other girls your age decorated  themselves in body glitter and makeup, you liked to keep things more natural. Instead of a mini skirt, You rocked jeans and hoodies. No, you weren't exactly the typical girl at Titan Senior High School.

The small girl walked into the education center, clutching your bag in your hands. You dryly made your way to your locker, #287 on the second floor of the building. As you opened the steel cabinet, a flurry of white notecards flew out onto the floor.

You flew back in surprise, as at least 20 cards splayed across the floor. "Are you kidding me?"you whispered, bending over to pick them up. You noticed words like "Freak" and "Loser" written on them, and you immediately understood. "Those bastards." You growled under your breath. Your face grew to a light shade of red as you crumpled all of them in your small palms and tossed them on the ground.

Whatever. They'll be begging for my forgiveness when I'm rich. The {hair color} girl thought with distaste. You forcefully shoved her olive green backpack into your locker and sped off to your first class of 11th grade: Math.

You took your seat in the front row, and watched as people filled the desks farthest from her. Your head fell at instant when you realized they were avoiding you. No matter what you tried to think to herself, the thought hurt. A lot.

Mr. Ross, the teacher, walked in the classroom with a mug of freshly brewed coffee in his hands. His bald head shined like tin foil, and he wore khakis paired with a blue sweater. His face was worn and wrinkly, as he was roughly 60 years of age.

"Alrighty, class."he spoke with a bored tone, "I know not everybody wants to put an end to their summer, but the state made it mandatory." He joked, and everybody laughed except you, who sadly kept your eyes on the floor. Nobody, of course, noticed this. "Well, let's get on this roll call." He set his coffee on his desk, and grabbed his clipboard full of attendance checklists for the following year. "Matilda Ashston?"
"Here!"
"Jason Milligan?"
"Here!"
"Levi Ackerman?"
No answer. Mr. Ross continued with the roll call.

You zoned out, until he called your name. "Here."you mumbled, just audible enough for him to hear you.

The heavy wooden door swung open suddenly, and a boy walked in. "Sorry I'm late, I was taking care of a few things in the office."the boy explained.

Everybody examined him. He had flawless, porcelain skin. He had his onyx hair styled in a simple undercut. He also had intimidating, dusty gray eyes. He wore black jeans, and a green hoodie to match his green converse high tops. A few girls giggled, obviously being attracted to him.

Mr. Ross nodded understandingly and pointed to a seat directly next to you. "You must be Levi, correct?" Mr. Ross asked. Levi nodded, and took the seat to your left.