"Are you seriously doing this again? Face the front, Tristan."
His teacher aggressed impatiently.
"How many times do I have to snap you out of your daydreams? Focus."

Tristan was a rather 'unique' kid, his hair was a pale greyish-blonde colour, his eyes were grey and dull and his grin was sharp. He was pretty tall for his age, as a 14 year old, being one of the older kids in his class, he towered over some of the other children and was remarkably strange.

He had been reciting fights in his head between himself and others,
despite his lack of experience, he aspired to fight among the best,
although he knew this lifestyle had been impossible with his living standard.

"You know, just because you're 'different' and all, that doesn't mean you're getting a free pass to this class, and I'd be damned if anyone else gave you such a priviledge, kid."
The class' uninterrupted silence was broken, as murmurs between classmates followed.
"Settle down, anyway, (dumb dialogue about stupid class lol)"

Tristan sighed, looked towards the window, and peered down at the book in front of him.
The book was full of knowledge and information needed to succeed in the class, but none of this meant anything to him, he sneered at the book and glanced up at his teacher.

"It's not like any of this matters." Tristan muttered, "such a flawed system, these kids have no idea on what they're missing out on, it's sad that none of t-"
Tristan picked up on the silence, and his teacher glared at him with fury written all over his expression.

"Does he really feel inclined to ruin our valuable learning time? How do you expect to survive without a job? I doubt your parents would provide for you with your carelessness, in fact, I bet you'd drive them away!" An obnoxious voice echoed from the front of the class, an average-built boy, sporting black framed glasses and mustard-blonde hair. He was dressed rather formally and in a well-presented manner, Tristan looked up in a fit of rage following the remark.

Tristan followed up hastily, "Did anyone ask for you to in- No, I'm sorry, does anyone even care for what you've got to say, (the kid's name)? If anything, you shouldn't even CARE about your grades, you've had a golden spoon in your mouth for this long and now instead of the spoon you're taking this teacher's-"

"GET OUT." The teacher exclaimed, "You think you can just waltz right in here in such a manner and burden this class with your ignorance?"

"Hm, thanks for excusing me." Tristan replied in a condescending manner. Tristan paced slowly towards the classroom door, glanced towards (unnamed kid who dissed his fly girl, well, him), smirked, and then shortly after grinned as if he had thoughts of slaughtering him, mutters floated around the room like an aroma of curiosity and the uproar became more notable by the moment. He began to walk towards the exit of the school, as he would any other day an incident of such would've occurred. He clenched his fist tightly and felt a sensation of hatred overcome him. He swiftly blew at the corridor wall with his fist, leaving a significant indent into the wall and blood on the dry and, now cracked, paint. He began to sprint towards the exit, his hand was bleeding, which he didn't make much fuss of.

"Going anywhere?" A familiar voice echoed. "You're always in such a hurry, and you're always doing SOME sort of misdeeds. Well, I actually have a question for you, kid, nothing more or less."

Tristan turned around hesistantly, it was the headmaster, a rather tall and skinny man who was always spotted wearing a slick black suit with a dull purple tie. His hair was grey and combed back, his eyes shined rather bright despite his rather threatening appearance, a bright green colour.

The headmaster stood several feet away from the boy, awaiting patiently, almost fixed to his position.
"Huh?" Tristan responded with after an awkward silence filled the desolate and seemingly long and narrow corridors. "Is there a problem?" He grasped his bloody and bruised hand, the headmaster peered at it, only to avert eye contact back to him.

"Come on kid, there's always a problem when it comes to you." He smiled rather sincerely.
"How long can you keep up this facade? You're not a bad kid, and I know that well enough."

Tristan's interest peaked sharply, "What?" he had simply let out.

"You only moved here last week and you've caused more problems here than any single person has over the last- Well, you've caused so many issues that there is no ideal comparison. It's almost metaphorical, really. You're so different to everyone else in this scenario and in reality too."

"You think I don't know this? I'm fully aware, I'm only here because my Mother, who couldn't give less of a-"

"No need to be profane, Tristan. Carry on."

"Either way, just because my Father was too weak to fight, doesn't mean I'll share his fate. I want to fight, I have it in me, hell, look, you're well aware of this too, it's LITERALLY in my bloodstream." The grey blood trickled through the crevices of his hand (idk does that work) and dripped onto the pale blue marble floor.

"Don't dare to speak in such an ill manner against your Father. He was a hero to us, and despite his loss, he is far from weak. The people- the THINGS he had fought, and you proceed to call him a weakling. It makes you look like more of a coward considering you're not tru-"

"I don't want to hear it. I don't need a lecture. I'm going home."

"Hear me out, won't you? I'm attempting to assist you-"

"I'VE HEARD ENOUGH." The grey blood that flown through the gaps between his fingers darkened and the blood began to flow faster. "YOU THINK I'D EVEN BOTHER TO ATTEND THIS SCHOOL IF I COULD? OF COURSE I WOULDN'T. SUCH AN ESTABLISHMENT IS WORTHLESS TO ME AND YOU'RE LOWERING IT'S WORTH BY REMAINING PRESENT HERE. I'M DRAGGED HERE DAILY, UNWILLINGLY, BECAUSE MY MOTHER FEARS LOSING ME, SOMEHOW SHE DOES, ALTHOUGH SHE NEVER TAKES CARE OF ME ANYMORE." Tristan's eyes lit up as if there were a blaze of fury within him, the corridor filled with silence, only being disrupted by the strong breathing Tristan let out in his rage. He kicked the doors open and ran out, the headmaster didn't think to stop him.

He stood in awe as Tristan stormed out. Never in his life had he seen such hatred and anger in anyone, ever. In someone who claimed they wanted to be a hero, someone who wanted to fight. He saw something in him otherwise, but he wasn't too clear on what.