give me a chance
because no one else does
CHAPTER 3

You're ten minutes late to the Teacher's Lounge because Chichi had locked herself in the toilet, although that was way more comedic than hindersome.

As the rubber soles on your shoes drag across the polished floor, you doubt that anyone would be too angered by your actions. There was the occasional outburst from a conservative twit like Tanizaki-sensei, but many had become seldom accustomed to you — your personality, that is. Hot-headed, careless, arrogant, stupid: you've heard it all. They see someone and take them for granted, killed you with just their glares.

It was not fair that your future was ripped from you by someone else, and that society pretends it was you all along and you're a psychological freak that should be on an episode of JCS - Psychology. You're horrid 'cuz you just are: you've never known anything else and a tick forms on your forehead every time people try to step on the pressure plates of your mind.

Why bother settling for other people's standards? You're sick of being walked all over on and even parting your lips to raise concern about it will earn the fury of everyone, as if they were trying to contort you into their image of you, not you but the You that was theirs. The teachers somewhat fall into this category of people that you have noticed: delinquent children are Different because you have to put your back and soul into helping them. To them, you are a flaw, the anomaly that fucks up their perfect academia and colours outside of the lines. You can't help this, of course. It's not your fault that you're you and they're... well, them.

The word 'incompatible' gets thrown around a lot when it comes to discussions with teachers. Growing up, you found that people subconsciously determined everything, like they spoke on wavelengths you couldn't tune into and that made you unwanted. Kazumi decided for some bizarre reason to ignore every biting instinct that told him This Person is a Landmine: DO NOT DETONATE and befriended you anyway, but Kazumi is just Kazumi — a one-hit wonder. You look outside the window and an unforgiving world stares right back.

You push open the door and expect Tanizaki-sensei to holler something in an unusually high voice, akin to a banshee screaming in your ear. It's a clear image, since it has happened all too often, her raven hair is damp but sharp, prickling the outskirts of her pale face and her eyes may just look like they're going to explode, dark enough that they've become black holes threatening to devour you whole, and blood rushes across her fingers since she holds back the fit of violence. Teachers have raised their hand against you; too many have. But you have told yourself to accept it, to stare them in the eye as you take it, because their words hurt more than their fists and it's always You fucking deserve this, can't you see that? Eh, enough of that sob story, you suppose. You've grown, even if it was for the worse. But you're at that age where you can hold back the delusions of happiness and survive the life that was handed to you. The life of a nobody, nameless but Named by a monster, by society, treated with abandonment by a withdrawn mother only to be dragged back into the bloodied light, red that burns you out.

"Tanizaki-sensei," You drawl, voice lackluster in comparison to the pathetic grin of plasticity you wore earlier, "What'd ya want to talk about?"

The room reminds you of an empty bedroom, sulking away. The silence is familiar, temporary until the wind rustles the thin veil they call a curtain and a pen on a desk starts to roll gently. It is, however, not empty, merely quiet. You breathe a sigh of relief when you find that Tanizaki-sensei is not at her desk. Although, someone else was.

Ice Cream Sub, you tap your chin. That is what you had mentally dubbed her anyway. She has been subbing for your Chemistry class for the last... two months, was it? It's not surprising you have forgotten her name. Half of her classes, you imagine to have been absent in. The lessons you have (miraculously) attended, even if it was to catch a nap in the back, have given you a loose outline of her personality. Call yourself a hypocrite, but you judge others a lot by first impressions and more, even if you were angry that society did that for you. It was more like a Fine, I'll play by your game kind of thing.

It is now that you recall a conversation you had with Kazumi and Chichi about her. She'd called your house number about some missing homework and it was so bizarre that Chichi prank-called her about it.

"Ice Cream Sub is on my back about this practice paper I never did and I think I'm going insane," You dramatically sigh and said sigh rattles the audio on the phone, "She called my home line, for fucks sake. That shit only happens in middle school and my mom thought it was my fucking dad."

"Why is she called Ice Cream Sub again?" Kazumi asks, baffled. The noise in the background suggests he's occupied with something else.

"She spent an entire double talking about the chemistry behind crystallised ginger ice cream."

Before you can reminisce on that conversation, pretending like it happened eons away in the cheery hands of youth and totally not a couple weeks ago, the teacher's head perks up like a hawk.

"Oh, [L/n]! I hope you weren't waiting for too long," Her voice seems silky as her lips hug a warm smile. You resist the urge to roll your eyes or laugh because why was she apologising? You're the one who turned up late. "Take a seat, I'll explain some things."

You tug on your uniform a little more as if that would change it's messy presentation, but the air stifling and tense. Your collar might as well be suffocating you. After sitting down, she adds, "I know that Tanizaki-sensei asked you to come here but I thought it would be more opportune for me to direct the conversation than her."

Please introduce yourself, you beg internally, knowing full well you cannot remember for the life of you what her name is. "Is this about lunch time? 'Cos I'll be fine with a detention."

"Oh no," Ice Cream Sub shakes her head, "Although, yes, we try to make sure the school grounds are secured so perverts can't stick their cameras up people's skirts. So, you know, having a boy that doesn't attend Nekoma High, almost trespassing with the abetting of two of our own students... you can see why that doesn't look favourably upon you and Fujiwara-san."

She is far more relaxed than any other teacher you've had the misfortune of crossing paths with. Her words are so informal, like she chats to an old friend. You stifle a laugh, "Sens, do you think people already look favourably upon me?"

"Well I do," She says suddenly and it takes you a moment to realise she is not joking about the ordeal like you. She's dead serious. Which in hindsight, was hugely embarrassing (not for you because you think too highly of yourself sometimes) for her since why is she trying to talk to you? It reminds you of primary school when you used sticks to prod at nature and sometimes dead animals which the teacher would be horrified by. People do strange stuff, you decide, yourself included. Your dad? Eh. Fuck him.

A fire threatens to kill your heart, the heat of self-hatred flares up in your face and your cheeks burn with anger at yourself; your eyebrows furrow not longer after. But alas, getting mean like a scared dog, you bite back whatever malice threatened to ooze out of your gut.

There is no quip, no snarky loose-lipped response, a remark that was told a little too coldly. Only the bitter expression of a horrid person, where the sadness died out with the others and pooled to the bottom of your throat.

"You understand that when you first enrolled into Nekoma High, you and your parents agreed to our school's guidelines and code of conduct, yes?"

You've been in Nekoma since middle school technically, having gone to a place that was the sister school of some college board and big Tokyo education monopoly which gave you a fast pass to Nekoma High. When high school rolled around, it was like an entirely different game was being played. Because in the autumn of your first year at Nekoma, your life was ruined forever and no one would ever understand that. Your soul got unstitched by the hand of God; eyes that reap the losses of a thousands gods, hearts that melt down the reality of the truth. You couldn't be naïve anymore; naivety will kill you.

It was actually funny that she was talking about school guidelines and the Golden Rule and the code of conduct. Please and Thank You. Where was all that when it was After The Thing? When the thread that had tethered you to reality snapped at the laughter of high school girls and boys. When the rush of cold air burnt your wide eyes, sending shivers down your spine. Wind spiraling around you and for a few seconds, it's just the cushioning air that you seem to destroy with gravity. And then, the ground meets your face and you black out from that. Because they'd tried pushing you off the first floor thinking you'd land in the dumpster and reek of garbage. When they dared you to do silly things and left you in the cold to face the consequences?

Where were you then, huh? You arch an eyebrow at Ice Cream Sub. Kindness is useless if you don't give it out equally.

"[L/n]?" Her voice brings you back; it's so soft that it makes you creep with hatred. You hate a lot of things. Sweet-talk is one of them. But you're hot-headed so you can't tell if she's genuine or not. Being able to read people is an art; you compare it to driving because with it, you're driving with one hand on the steering wheel acting like you have two.

Your shoulders are slouched against the seat, complementing it, "Yeah, yeah. You hang the rules outside the Main Hall anyway."

Her lips purse, not with frustration at your demeanor, but with sympathy. You haven't seen sympathy in a long time. "We are aware of how you may feel and how your education has been affected by certain... incidents... but [F/n],"

Now this certainly catches your attention. She doesn't say your name like it was an annoying tongue-twister, which is how you had grown accustomed to being addressed as, but like you were her doting child. I remind you of someone you once knew. You overlook that easily. You refuse to turn your life into a sob-story. It's not a sad J-DRAMA; it's a hysterical dipshit adventure. Besides... who cares about Ice Cream Sub?!

"I want you to hold up your end of the stick, or I won't do the same and you'll go nowhere and we'll go ahead."

She pauses, as if expecting you to respond so you muster some tired reply to prod at a dying conversation.

"I get what you mean, Sensei." Actually, I would love to take a nap right now but clearly that is just not the case.

"So," What you said must have energised her because she perks up (much to your lousy annoyance). She pulls out your midterm results, making you cringe. Why did she have these on standby?

When it comes to your grades, you don't care for them. Neither does your mother since all she loves to do is pretend Everything is Fine. You like putting your report cards through the paper-shredder at the nursing home (Grandma Rei has something about paper-shredding; she just loves it) and watching all the numbers get chopped up. But that is about it when it comes to things like this. They are not important, to you at least. To everyone else, they sure as hell are.

"You scored #197 in the year in the August Mid-Terms. But you are #2 in the separate academic list for Advanced Mathematics and #1 in History. But these achievements are being overshadowed because they are not important in the grand scheme of things. Japanese-orientated education encourages a well-rounded education, not just honing in on specific talents."

Yada yada yada, you know all this already and it feels like she's pressing you to tune out. If she was trying to come up with a point, it was failing miserably. This wasn't a random Slice of Life movie that changes your life. You're still stuck in this stupid room, with a woman whose name you can't be bothered to learn, knowing well that once you leave, you're going to skip Literature. So, as she continues, you plan out your Friday. You're thinking of skiving to go roller-skating with Kazumi since his Hyogo friends will be dropping by. Chichi's cousin's friend over at Itachiyama Institute is having a party at their countryside home so you might slide over for the possibility of a hook-up. It's been so long since you were in that party scene. Okay not that long, but for the first two months of your community service you had to give the impression you weren't... you know.. doing Delinquent Things (quoting your parole officer), whatever that means.

"You can do the most difficult questions on the Mathematics exam but not the simple ones at the start of the booklets. Since they may up 70% of the exam, you're failing the entire subject."

She has now clocked how your squinting is masking an attempt to sleep and pushes further, "[F/n]! Please! I'm trying to help you. I really think you have something."

Something short of a scowl forms on your face, "Are you insinuating I'm some unawakened child prodigy. If so, you are completely incorrect. Your points make no sense."

"Then are you cheating?" Ice Cream Sub narrows her eyes, a sharp retort escapes her tongue quicker before she can bite it back.

She might as well have lit a firework in the room, "I'm not fucking cheating. For you to think that is just proof that this school sucks ass but you can't even kick me out because then that'd look bad on you but also I'm on the fast pass track so—"

"Then what is it?" She calms and now seems more inquisitive after listening to your burst of emotion. "Tell me."

Oh, she wanted you to sing like a canary and there are only two ways to make you become — what was it that Chichi said? — a Chatterbox:

1. Get drunk. Hard enough to do in school let alone in a room with a teacher without ringing every alarm bell ever.
2. Get pissed off. Easy.

You somewhat angrily take the Mathematics paper and point to a question, "Trigonometry is easy. I plug the numbers in my calculator using a formula that is literally in the front of the booklet and I write it all out as proof. Algebra? Hardest shit I've ever done. Some things are easy because it's just a matter of following instructions and logic. Others, you have to actually be good at maths."

She seems unperturbed by your swearing, "Good. You're aware of this."

"What?" You have this dumb-founded expression on your face. If Kazumi was here, he'd put a Dunce Cone on your head.

"Look," She points randomly after faffing about with your Science papers, and then you realise she is gesturing at the embarrassing titration question you doodled on idly. "You didn't even attempt it. But with this section," She licks her finger and finds the section on Metals, "You have full marks."

You have a blank expression, wiped clean. Whatever she is trying to say, well you didn't get the memo.

"I don't see what the point of this is," You try not to come off as rude since it's clear she's pulling at straws but the idea that people want to help you is certainly hysterical given the current societal stance on murderers, children of murderers and delinquency.

Ice Cream Sub deadpans, "I want to increase your grades. The best way to do this is tutoring. After listening to you and examining your answers in exams, I think it's best if you are paired with someone that you could help just as they will help you."

Oh no. Not tutoring.

Tutoring makes you feel like you're not in control of your own life. You have to be helped like you're helpless and you hate that. People already hate you enough and you know that whoever this Entitled Nerd is that you're gonna have to contend with in a sweaty classroom during your lunches, is gonna be your new sack of shit that you have lug around like everything else. They're gonna flinch at you, have preconceived perceptions. Think they you got you all figured out. Help you a little and then get pissed off when you can't do it like them because everything is on a fucking different wavelength, you swear.

Ice Cream Sub tries to reassure you after watching your expression fall, "Don't worry. The person I have in mind is 2nd in the year for Science and Maths, two of your weakest areas."

"What happened to 1st place?" You joke, "Unavailable 'cuz you need to book a slot with them?"

You already know why. Mirai Arata is 1st in the Year. You used to be friends with her because she was a friend of a friend from Inarizaki but then you found yourself getting pissed off at everything she ever did and it was probably some mad sensory overload at the time that just hadn't died out yet. Like that matters now anyway.

"Ha ha, Arata-san tutors two people already. I don't want to add more to her plate."

With a problem person, you roll your eyes. "Alright then, whose the poor guy that has to put up with my shit, then?"

———

yang kin
get your ass online rn
holy fucking shit

kazoo
i'm in music go away!!

yang kin
bro you dont fuckin understand
kuroo is tutoring me

kazoo
WHAT
hey
come back
i need to know
WHAT HAPPENED

yang kin
he's gonna think i'm some freak
right

kazoo
ur not a freak

Seen

———

Gym 2 really needs some air conditioners. It's not a matter of opinion but the lack of windows makes the place more prison than gym. The air is deader than a cemetery, if that was even possible because you know... cemeteries are full of dead people. Kenma makes this comparison far too many times, and that, coupled with Lev flopping on the ground and trying to fan himself with his legs, means it always a chaotic and terrible place to be on Monday afternoons. But no one hates Gym 2 more than Kuroo Tetsurou, largely because he loses out to the basketball team over the better candidate that was Gym 1, but also because his hard work every morning to style his hair with gel is ruined by the stifling heat.

"For the love of God, open the freaking door," Kuroo pats the back of his neck with a cold towel, taking care to not let a swear word slip loose in front of Lev. It wasn't them babying him but rather Kuroo's silly on-going bet with Yaku; he is definitely not gonna lose.

Besides, Kuroo like never swears — aloud, that is. Last time he swore was... at Nerima Ward Nursing Home.

Kenma watches him idly, disliking how his grip around his phone is starting to slacken. The heat was annoying but he refused to let that dismantle his concentration. Although, he takes his eyes off the pixelated screen in front of him and they linger on Kuroo before quickly narrowing, a gaze that is slick and sharp like a cat's diamond eyes.

There is not much that Kenma does. Observance is hobby of his. It's easier to understand people from a distance than up close. If he can monitor all their moves then he'll know what to expect if he engages in combat conversation with them.

With Kuroo, Kenma has been observing for a long time, a silent watcher. He now knows from the slightest change of expression, a quirk of a smile or an eyebrow, to a particular stress movement, what Kuroo is thinking. The time that fell through his hands passed too quickly for his liking. With time came change. And in Gym 3, on this bothersome Monday afternoon, Kenma concludes that Kuroo's behaviour has changed from the morning.

After waiting for the perfect moment, he strikes.

"Something's come up," He says when Kuroo nears him after a laugh with Yaku. Kuroo sits, expecting the bench to be warm but it was not.

He frowns, "Nothing's 'come up.'"

"But something has happened."

"I wonder why you're taking an interest," Kuroo grins, playfully elbowing Kenma (lightly as to not disturbing his friend's rapid fire tapping on the phone screen), "Undergoing a classic introvert to extrovert transformation like me. I always knew this day would come!" He's clearly joking.

Kenma rolls his eyes and does not reply, deciding that whatever it was, he did not need to be bothered by it after all. That is, until Kuroo decides to say it anyway.

"Hibiki-sensei asked me if I wanted to do part-time tutoring for a person in our year," Kuroo says bleakly, taking a sip from his warm waterbottle, "Since the school offered to fund this, I said yeah 'cuz I'm not gonna turn down money! Think of all the video games we can buy with this—"

"You're getting distracted," Kenma's words are blunt but he is right.

Kuroo knows that.

"The person I'm tutoring is [L/n] [F/n]."

"Them?!" Yaku exhales, standing over them, "Really? Didn't know they cared about their grades."

"Does the whole world need to know I'm tutoring someone?!" Kuroo sighs. Then again, the gym was almost empty now.

To this, Lev suddenly gets up from the floor like an energetic puppy, "[L/n]? Oh, they are so scary! I heard a rumour they killed a First Year."

"Lev, you're a First Year," Yaku rolls his eyes, almost wanting to laugh at that, "It's called a rumour for a reason, dummy."

Kuroo breathes another sigh, "There's nothing wrong with them. I'm just worried..."

Yaku tilts his head, "About what?"

Kuroo's eyes drift off to the open door where a peek of the outside was, a perfect view to broken wall that apparently, as gossiped about this lunch, you earned a detention for, for attempts to vandalise. There is not even a speck of any attempts at vandalism. Not even any litter. There is only that broken wall.

He thinks about seeing you on Saturday. Rumours had gone around months before about your delinquency stunts, and having spread like wildfires, opinions became facts and the lies were the truth. Still, seeing you there was so strange. So unexpected. The image of you is stuck in his head, your drunk singsong, the little dance you did at the receptionist desk, the way the ceiling lights reflected in your eyes, almost making them twinkle. He shakes his head but you're still there and you're laughing hysterically about something stupid and trying to get him to sit with you on the couch to play poker.

Who you were and what he was taught to believe, were two different things. There was a struggle within him. And now he was unsure if he wanted to know you, for your sake and his. 'Cuz you're going somewhere else and he's worried that you'll set yourself on fire in Hell to keep him warm in Heaven. Besides, you do not look like the tutoring type. And even if his gut was telling him that you're gonna drag him down your rabbit hole of shit, his heart says that you deserve a chance, because no one else except him is going to give it to you.

"Nothing. I'm worried about nothing."

———

awww yeah let's Ignore my important sociology essay due in tomorrow And write a 4K long chapter
Yang kin title is from my Zhongli fic LMAO