(Warning! Will get gruesome)
His strawberry blond hair was abnormal amongst the dark browns and whitening blonds. The clothes he wore were either pink, blue, purple, or a combination of the colors. His bright blue eyes shinned and twinkled, something everyone finds strange.
He wasn't exactly the definition of normal, no matter which world he could force himself to be in, he was just...strange. In his own world, he was to colorful, to smiley, to cheerful for his dark immoral world. The other world feared him, even though he was cheery and happy, his other side would always cut lose.
When blue eyes turn pink, you run.
That's the rule they told each other, whenever they were within the walls of his bakery, or even just in his presence. He really didn't understand why people feared him, or hated him, but he had to deal with it.
Deal with the harsh words and wounds/bruises that still hurt, even to this day.
That's why he hides over half of what he truly is. He covers up his freckled cheeks, puts contacts in and hides his glasses from sight, pastes the smile onto his face, all of this to cover up what he really is. To hide the kid that got picked on so many years ago.
All of these little things caused his bi-polar personality.
All of the picking on from his peers, even his younger brothers, caused this strange monster.
This strange person.
The crazy man who can't fit in anywhere...
It just seemed like any normal day, the sky was a dark gray, Clouds casted their dark shadows down so far, it darkened the already dark & violent city. Yet, there he was, inside his bakery, not caring about the outside world, humming as he continued making his sweet concoctions. He never would look up from his doings, till the bell rang.
His head snapped up. his slightly reddened hair messing and going into the view of his bright blue eyes Great, just the thing he needed, these three.
The axis.
The dark skinned Italian brunet spoke first, asking questions about Oliver's life and how exactly he can live with knowing he was the black sheep, or in this case, the white one. The Brit felt his eye twitch slightly, anger starting to raise inside his heart, before he put on a smile and answered each question thrown at him as calmly as he could.
What they did next would be unexpected to most.
When the Italian was done interrogating his long known victim, he snapped his fingers, causing both the German and the Japanese man to lift blunt objects up. Within a second, they crooked their bodies to swing.
Yet, he stayed still.
Even as the broken glass flew past his cheeks, causing a familiar ingredient he used so many times before to roll down his skin, he still was unfazed. They had violated his shop multiple times before and every time, they kept him down, face first on the tiled floor.
Today was different, he could feel it. He could feel the anger spread as he watched them destroy almost everything.
As the Italian grew impatient with the smaller man's unresponsiveness, he stopped the other two and gestured to the odd sheep itself. The others nodded, a smirk appearing on the Japanese mans face while the German's was unreadable. They bent their bodies in another wind up, wanting to put everything they had into this one last hit...
But their items never struck their target.
Instead of doing the normal thing and stepping backwards last second, the bright colored Brit simply shot his hands up, arms crossing around his chest, and stopped both items right before they could connect with his skull. He tipped his head up to the Italian leader, his hair casting a demon of a shadow,
making his swirling pink eyes shine that much brighter.
His lips slowly turned into a wicked, demonic Cheshire grin as he watched them take a few steps back. He felt his teeth grow sharper as his thoughts became more cannibalistic than man. He hadn't done this in so long, it was simply a rush to even be seen like this.
The Italian man told something to the other two, for they nodded before leaving him and the deranged baker alone. The foolish one cracked his knuckles, causing the smiling one to lick his lips in hunger. The sounds alone of bones crunching and popping was more than enough to make the smaller being aching with need.
They both knew what this was.
It wasn't the colorful, smiling side the other one showed from day to day, nor was it the killer that had the whole other world shaking in fear. Oh, no, this was a whole other level of crazy.
Oliver crouched down low as the Italian's hand reached for the knife hitched onto his belt. A low growl escaped both of their throats as they glared at the other. The Brit was the first to move, his limbs bending and twisting in ways inhumanly possible as he gained ground and soon attacked the unprepared man.
His nails digged deeply into the darken skin, loud screams and curses were heard from the bag of muscles and blood beneath him. Oliver leaned his head in and took multiple mouthfuls of flesh into his mouth. He felt the man thrash and kick, trying hard to get the blood thirsty man off of him.
He finally succeeded and pushed him onto his back, the Italian using his weight to keep the fragile man down. As it was the animals turn to hiss and kick, the face cut man cocking his fist before connecting it to the other's face.
He repeated until Oliver snapped, at least, back into his murderous form. It only took a simple head shook from the one that was trapped beneath the bigger one, to turn the bright pink eyes into his baby blue ones, signifying that he was back into his kind baker personality.
But that wasn't enough for the Italian.
He dealt out two more hits, one crunching his nose into nothingness while the other knocked a tooth in on his bottom jaw. Those last hits hurt so much, the Brit couldn't help but tear up at the feelings.
"The first one was for clawing up my face," the Italian said, shoving Oliver down onto the glass covered floor, cutting even more of his skin and staining his shirt, "The second one is for being the weirdest person ever."
Oliver couldn't get up, actually, he refused to. The pain from that recent incident caused him to ache, tears littering his eyes as he tried to move. The gut feeling within him was true, today was different. He was beaten at least 5 times worse than what he normally was.
He slowly and painfully lifted his hand to his mouth, softly touching the swollen lips, and pull back to reveal the sticky red substance rolling past them and onto the floor. His hair was now turning darker with the said substance. He saw shadows cross their way to him, curious, he looked up to find four new faces and worried pairs of eyes.
Even though half of their faces held anger.
Oliver woke up with a start, only to groan loudly when his bruised and broken body twitched greatly. His bright blue eyes quickly glanced at the world around him, only to grow fearful when he didn't know his surroundings.
"Hey Let he's up," called a voice. Curiosity filled both his heart as mind as he pushed himself to turn his head to where the voice was coming from. He saw a figure, her mouth in a straight line, hair an unnatural purple, her eyes were bright orange filled with worry as she walked over to him. She picked up something off of the side table and started to tend to his wounds.
When the cool washcloth touched his skin, he couldn't help but flinched. Pain seemed to irradiate whenever she would touch him, even if it was far from any wounds, he couldn't help but wince in pain.
"Sssh," she cooed, gently wiping away any dry blood she could see, "I don't mean to hurt you, but I need to get the blood away before it stains your skin." Oliver nodded slightly, wincing slightly as a searing pain washed over him.
"My names DC," she called to him, trying to get his mind off the pain, "We're going to need you to stay here a few weeks till your better. What's your name by the way?" He opened his mouth to reply her, but just before a sound came out, a figure came in.
She looked a bit short on height, but she held herself in a if-you-try-to-fuck-me-I'll-fuck-you-up stance. Her hair was a light silvery, almost white in her case. Her eyes, hidden deep within shades, were a light brown. Her face hasn't looked like it has even smiled once.
"It's a bout time," the female called as she walked to DC, "I told you we should've woken him up!"
"The healing process requires TIME and REST," growled the purple haired women, "Waking him up earlier would've been twice as painful for him." Oliver winced at the thought. It was already almost unbearable, he couldn't imagine twice as much.
"Ok, ok," the silver haired one sighed before her brown eyes snapped to him, "What's your name?" He jump a little, letting a grumble escape his lips.
"I'm Oliver," he replied wincing as he held his arm.
"Well, Oliver, My name's Let," the grumpy one stated before gesturing to DC, "You already know this son of a bitch.."
"Language please," the other hissed back.
"You say it to!"
"That's my one player your talking about!" Oliver groaned as he put his head down, a pounding headache already forming.
These were going to be a long few weeks..
-time skip to Friday-
Oliver woke up from his slumber with a smile of a yawn and a stretch, already the pain seemed to have disappeared. The only thing that still ached was his nose, along with the area around it. The girls and the rest of their group were able to get Oliver a replacement tooth for the one he lost, making his smile seem whole again.
He swung his legs over and got up, humming a small tune to himself as he walked over to the kitchen area. He was planning on paying them back for their generous hospitality, even if it was just simple cupcakes. He even started to feel like he belong in this group, so much that he and DC could be long lost siblings.
He had gotten the items out and just began mixing when he heard two voices.
"Oh come on Let, why don't you give the poor man a chance," DC's voice flowed through the thin walls.
"Why? I'll tell you why," she hissed, "he's looney, completely insane! There is no way that he even compares to how our group is represented."
Silence followed for only a few seconds. Every passing second, Oliver's heart dropped deeper and deeper.
"I thought we were declared looney to," asked the other once again.
"Oh you know what I mean," the white haired one demanded, "He's not good for our group." In that instant, Oliver knew who they were talking about, for the only man that was close...
Was him.
Oliver felt tears swell up in his eyes as he thought everything over. Of course, it just had to be, when he thought he'd find somewhere he fit in, they thought he was weird. He needed to get outta there, his heart couldn't stand anymore of this pain.
In a flash, Oliver walked out the kitchen, down the hall past the girls and to the door. Both girls asked what was wrong, DC's being more of concern when Let's was a 'where-are-you-going?'. Oliver couldn't say much except,
"Back home."
"Oliver open up," cried his little brother Al. Oliver just let out a groan as he rolled over, trying to block out the sound of the louder American. "Bro, It's been three weeks since it happened. Get over it."
Oliver felt tears starting up within his eyes once again. His brother didn't know it, but this wasn't something he could easily 'Get Over' as if it was a batch of burnt cupcakes. No, after replaying his feelings and thoughts when he was there he realized why those words had caused him more pain than anything else he's ever had...
He had fallen for the stricter one.
The blander one, the white haired one, the one who hasn't smiled yet, that's who he had to fall for. It makes sense now. He told her the most about his past, even if she didn't seemed interested, yet she still listened. He even caught glimpses of curiosity stuck deep within them, only to be snuffed out when she had to run an errand.
He hated it.
He always wanted to have it before...someone he could love, but now that he's felt the negatives of it, he doesn't want to face it. He didn't want to go back to how things were, to pretend like that incident never happened. All around, he was just...
Confused.
He felt warm tears roll down his freckled cheeks, not caring to hide those from anyone after what had happened. His hand grabbed the door knob and turned, revealing his utterly warn out face to his brother.
"Woah, Bro, are you alright," Al asked. He had never seen his elder brother like this, not even a smile was plastered upon his face that morning. Oliver shook his head, tears still lowly rolling. "Is it because of her?"
Oliver lost it. All control he had over his flood gates snapped, tears started pouring from his eyes as he wrapped Al up into a hug. The American simply patted his brothers head as he let his sobs out. When the Brit's sobs turned so quiet, they almost stopped, Al looked down to his brother.
"Have you even tried talking to her since then," he asked, looking into his brothers blue eyes. Oliver shook his head as if he were a little boy in trouble.
"I don't even know where she could be right now," he muttered, "she was gone almost all day."
"Well, lets go find her," Al suggested. Oliver only shook his head.
"There's no point," he walked solemnly past Al and into the kitchen, pulling a bar stool close enough to watch the coffee slowly drip into the coffee pot. The silence seemed to wrap them up with a thick blanket as the seconds turned to minutes.
Then, the door rang.
"Got it," called the American as he walked to the door, grabbing his bat for good measures, and opened the door.
He was met with a strange sight. A woman, quite average height, with purple hair, red clothes and orange eyes was holding up a woman with light silvery hair and lidded brown eyes.
"I-is Oliver home," the purple haired one ask, her eyes filled with concern. The American crossed his arms in a defensive stance.
"What's it to ya," he asked, knowing how his brother would take it. The silver haired one hissed in pain as she tried putting weight on one certain leg.
"I was bitten in the leg by a rabid dog," she growled, "I've heard your brother knows a great deal about medicine, I was hoping he could help me." Al nodded slightly before turning his head.
"Oliver you're special medical skills are needed," he called.
"What's the issue," the Brit called loudly.
"Rabies," the American one yelled.
"Shit," growled the English-man. Al couldn't help but be a bit surprised when that particular swear word hit upon his ears. He listened as he heard Oliver slowly climb down the stairs.
"Ok, what's the ma-" he tensed up when he saw exactly who the victim was. Al looked between the two people, seeing the same amount of blush on both of their cheeks. When DC cleared her throat, they seemed to break away.
"uh, You have a rabid dog bite upon your leg," she called to the girl on her shoulder. Let nodded.
"Y-yeah," she called, "Um, could I have the medicine?"
"Y-yeah," Oliver gently grabbed her hand and turned it, revealing the bottom of her arm to him. She winced slightly when she saw the needle, and watched as he filled it with the medicine. He looked up at her, worry filling his eyes.
He didn't want to hurt her, no matter how bad her words had hurt him. He knew how to keep her from watching her arm.
"Look at me," he stated calmly. Confusion quickly filled upon her features. "I said look at me, it'll help keep your mind off of it." Her eyes slowly crept up, and soon fell upon his, suddenly feeling a sense of calm crept over her.
Oliver smiled slightly as he gently stuck the needle into her arm and gave her the medicine. When he took the needle out of her arm, his eyes snapped down, taking away all the calm feeling with him. Al and DC's chuckles broke their trains of thoughts.
"We'll let you to be," said Al as he and DC walked inside, closing the door. Oliver felt his heart strain when he realized he was alone with her.
"I should thank you," she said softly, "You didn't really have to do this."
"I couldn't let you die just because I was to stubborn to see you," he stated calmly. She nodded softly.
"About that incident a few weeks back," she asked, Oliver felt his heart fall once again, "It wasn't about you, it was about Vlad." Confusion wrote on Oliver's face. "DC ran into him on the street and we've all had bad vibes about him...Truth be told Oliver."
A small smile appeared upon her lips.
Oliver's eyes widened, he couldn't believe it. The strict woman, the one who never smiled, was starting to smile.
"I really enjoyed your company."
Oliver couldn't help but smile widely, his grin going a bit lopsided, making the other one laugh. He felt his heart grow lighter and lighter as he heard her giggle.
"Could I perhaps enjoy it again," she asked. Looking up at him. Oliver couldn't help but nod, he felt something touch his hand. Before he felt her hand squeeze his.
He couldn't believe it.
Him, the outcast
Finally found a place.
He could fit in.
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