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Blu had never snapped out of a spiral and fell into another so quickly.
The dead silence that followed the fork meeting someone was mostly what got him, though. Maybe had it been Bolt shouting something, or Pom saying something, it wouldn’t have been as bad, but there wasn’t anything.
There wasn’t any more commotion from Bolt - in fact, everyone had gone quiet; the lunchroom had been something of chaos since Blu started the altercation, and now the silence was deafening in its loudness.
Magma had begun to pull Bolt away, and Pom hadn’t said a word since her gasping, and Blu wasn’t sure if he even wanted to look at anything; it didn’t exactly matter what he wanted, considering his gaze had snapped onto Rhett the moment he had seen Bolt looking at him.
And, god, his heart sank, and he felt sick. Any appetite he might’ve had? It died with any hope for something with Rhett.
Rhett stared at him, and all he could do was stare back.
He moved, took a step back - maybe he shouldn’t have, but he felt sick, the type of sick that’ll never leave, that’ll come back tenfold anytime he looks at Rhett - and he ran. He ran like a coward, with his figurative tail tucked between his legs. Someone said - shouted - something at him, but the blood rushing in his ears and the way the ground felt like it was tilting under his feet were the only things he could focus on. The cafeteria doors were heavy under the palms of his hands, and he forced himself to ignore the blood that would stain his sleeve as he pushed them open. He still had the ripped part of Bolt's shirt in his hand, and he was holding the fork in the other like it was his lifeline, as if it wasn’t burdened with the guilt of injury.
He wasn’t sure why he was running, it wasn’t like there was anywhere to go.
Rhett must hate him, he figured, and it was a completely sound reaction. He hadn’t looked long enough to get a clear understanding of Rhett's expression, but he’d looked long enough to register the shock as blood fell.
The bathroom door was lighter than the cafeterias, and the world continued to spin under his feet as he reached for the bathroom counter. The metal clinked against the stone loudly as Blu dropped the fork, and he flinched at how loud it was in comparison to spiraling thoughts. He fumbled for the tap with one hand, and moved to take off his glasses with the other. What was the method? Something about splashing cold water on your face to reset the nervous system with a shock to it, something about activating the vagus nerve, the- what was it called? Why did it matter? He splashed the water on his face once it felt cold enough on shaking hands, taking in a stuttering gasp. The awful wheezing noise that had been following him subsided into something less deafening, but his hands still shook and the fork was blinding with the reflection of the lights in the bathroom.
Technically it was against policy - students weren’t supposed to touch the lightswitches, but the fluorescent lights were blinding and there was nobody else in here, and the emergency lights that came on automatically would provide enough.
It was red now, rather than blinding, and that was almost worse, but he continued on autopilot back to the sink - which felt further away then it actually was. He grabbed the counter, and stood there for a moment, holding the majority of his weight in his hands. The edge of the counter dug into his palms, and his wrist compressed in on itself. He lowered himself to the ground, crouching over his own knees, hands still holding the edge of the counter as he stared unseeingly into the ground like it was the problem and the solution.
It was gone, surely.
Any chance he’d had with one of the few that tolerated his oddness was gone, because if Rhett was sound and smart - and he was, Blu knew he was, despite what others said - he would never talk to Blu again beyond a solid ‘fuck you, and fuck off’, because thats what you did when someone hurt you like that. Was he just as bad as whoever gave him that other scar?
Oh god, it would scar. Blu had scarred Rhett, Rhett had been scarred by Blu.
Blu had liked Rhett, too. He liked Rhett, present tense, and - well, now what?
Gryn would probably have some choice words to say,
Rhett wouldn’t want to speak to him,
What would his aunt think?
What would happen?
He’d be let off with a warning and a permanent mark on his record at best,
At worst, this was for nothing, and he’d fucked up worse then he thought.
The wheezing, stuttering noise was back again, and his chest felt tight with every short inhale. His face was hot with shame, and his eyes burned with tears he was desperately trying not to shed, because out of everyone involved, he was not the one who should be crying, and he dug the pads of his fingers into the countertop until they shook with the effort of doing so, and then some, and he sat there.
For how long? He wasn’t even sure, but it probably wasn’t very long. He sat back on his heels for a moment, before pulling himself to his feet. The wheezing still followed like a plague as he shuffled over to the far wall, sliding down to sit with his back against the cold tile that acted as a heat sink. His legs tucked close to his chest, and he picked at the skin around his nails until it stung, and then continued to do so. It was grounding, but it did not stop the stinging in his eyes.
He blinked, and then did it again, but they did not leave him be; he took a shuddering breath in, and then let it out, and his face was becoming wet with tears that were inevitable from the moment he stepped into the bathroom. Everything suddenly felt too real; not like the world was spinning around him, but instead sinking and dragging him down.
He hadn’t really noticed the bathroom door open, or someone quietly step in -too far gone into the depths of his own thoughts - most of it, if he was honest, the fact that what had happened was real and not some fucked up dream - to register his surroundings.
The hand on his shoulder may as well have been a gunshot with how aggressively he flinched, gaze snapping up to an unfortunately familiar face.
“Blu,” Goldel spoke, his voice would already be grating on frayed nerves, but the irritatingly fake fucking concern made Blu want to punch him. He might’ve, if not for his track record today, “I saw what happened in the cafeteria - you’re rather lucky I’m the one who found you first, rather than someone like Spades. Especially with the lights off?”
Please, Blu silently begged, willing words to come out, Just shut the fuck up for once.
“The council and some staff are looking around for you right now - you don’t seem like one to run from consequences. Was it Rhett?” He questioned, hand like a brand on Blu’s shoulder, unmoving and burning.
Don’t say his fucking name, Blu wanted to snap back, Don’t pretend like you give a fuck about him, or me, or anyone in this school beyond us being pawns for you. His breathing would not calm down now, despite his best attempt to control it. His hands ached and stung now, sweat irritating the torn up nailbeds.
“Did he do something to prompt that reaction? I didn’t take you for the type to do something like that with how buddy-buddy you and him seem to be,” Goldel sighed, as if this was some predictable event, as if Rhett was the problem here. God, Goldel was worse than he’d even thought he was, and Blu wasn’t sure how that was even possible.
“Bolt seemed like he was part of the issue, maybe? But to attack other students like that. . .”
It was an accident. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t want him to get hurt.
“. . .Blu, should you even be in this school if that's how you react to these sorts of small issues? Whatever Bolt did surely wasn’t worthy of that reaction,” Goldel hummed,
Fuck you.
“But I’m willing to cut you some slack. We’ve had some. . . issues, in the past, but I’m sure we can work out something. I’ve offered you to join the student council before, but this seems like a less debatable situation. I’m willing to make a deal with you,” He started, shifting to crouch on one knee in front of him, leaning down like he was talking to a toddler of all fucking things, “You can join the student council, right your wrongs! I’ll explain to the admin that it was a misunderstanding - you didn’t mean to hurt anyone, you just overreacted to a small situation, and we’ve talked about it and sorted it out.” He smiled, like he was doing Blu a favor, and that sickening sink in Blu's stomach was there again.
What would he say if Blu disagreed?
What would he do?
His mouth felt dry, and he tore his gaze away from eyes that were too blue to feel natural in the red light. He felt like a frog being dissected piece by piece under a careful eye, and he could do nothing at the moment.
Words wouldn’t come out, and it frustrated him more, and Goldel was staring him down like an untrained dog would a cat that was just out of its reach.
Blu’s face was still wet with tears that had not fully stopped, and he wanted to tear his skin off because Goldel was seeing this.
“What the fuck’re you doing?”
The voice cut through the silence, firm and accusatory in its tone. Goldel looked up first, seeming equally as surprised.
Blu dragged his gaze up - it felt heavier than it would actually be - and he couldn’t figure out if he should focus on the wave of shame, or the sheer relief he felt at the sight of Rhett.
“Rhett,” Goldel greeted, a stiff smile on his face, “shouldn’t you be heading to the nurse to get your injury checked out?”
“Shouldn’t you be dealing with some council bullshit, and leaving this to the staff?” He retorted, his expression carefully neutral as his gaze shifted between Blu and Goldel.
Goldel removed his hand from Blu’s shoulder to clap his hands together, standing up stiffly.
“If you want to deal with it, be my guest, but don’t blame me if he decides to lunge at you again,” he stated, squeezing his hands together before letting them fall to his sides, and walking out. Rhett did not move to make leaving convenient, watching Goldel until the door shut.
The room felt a little lighter in its own way, but reality came crashing back down like the tide coming in the moment Rhett looked back at him.
The silence that followed was deafening. Minutes - it must've been - passed, with neither saying anything.
“. . .Are you alright?” Rhett questioned - it came out a little stiffly, as if he wasn’t completely sure what the correct move was here, not after that.
But it was like the weight of the world had been lifted, just for a half moment, and a weak, shuddering sob escaped him, and he moved his hand to cover his face. Rhett moved, grabbing something from the counter before carefully taking a seat in front of Blu, crossing his legs.
He held out Blu’s glasses, and Blu took them after a moment, staring at them and holding them in his hands. The metal of the frames was cold now, from sitting there, and water droplets had dried from him splashing water on his face earlier. He wiped them off on his sleeve, his clean one, and then wiped his face, before putting them on.
They sat in silence for a while, neither saying anything as Blu collected himself.
“. . .I’m sorry,” Blu started,
“Don’t. It’s not your fault, I’m-, I’m not going to act like I know the full context of what happened, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize that whatever happened wasn’t your fault,” Rhett huffed, adjusting how he was sitting, some tension sinking out of his shoulders.
“Your face,”
“Is fine. It stings, but it’s fine. What happened?”
“. .Bolt happened,” Blu huffed, a humorless laugh. He needed some water after this.
“I figured out that much, Jesus. What did he do?” Rhett questioned. He wasn’t annoyed, as far as Blu could tell. Concerned?
He thinks he’d prefer Rhett be concerned.
“He put bacon in my lunch,” Blu muttered, “for what reason? I don’t- I don’t know. I don’t understand why people find stupid shit like that funny. Pom saw, she- I mean, she was the one who let me know. She didn’t do anything wrong.”
Rhett hummed, waiting for anything else Blu might have to add.
“He’s-, certainly a type of person, I’ll say that much,” he grumbled, dragging a hand over his face, "that's.. it’s bullshit. Shouldn’t have happened, and I’m sorry it did. People can’t keep to themselves and mind their own.”
“I shouldn’t have left my lunch-,”
“Don’t. That is not your fault, it’s not insane to believe that nobodys going to fuck with your food, especially not in a way that goes against your beliefs,” Rhett interjected quickly, startling Blu, “I’ll walk with you to the admin. You can tell them about what happened, I’ll wait.”
Rhett stood up, and offered his hands to help Blu up.
That was. . . new. Not Rhett waiting, or caring, but explicitly saying he would. Blu wasn’t going to comment on it. Blu took his hands and stood up - they were warm. Maybe Blu was just cold. He followed Rhett out of the bathroom, pausing for a half moment to throw out the ripped remnant of Bolt's shirt, and debate about whether or not he leave the fork there.
Rhett did not comment on the fact that Blu did not let go of one of his hands as they left, and Rhett did not acknowledge the fact that he hadn’t let go either.