never once has Noma wanted to vomit at the sight of his own reflection, but here was: gripping his stomach and ready to hurl as he checked himself out one more time before heading out to look around his new school. big-rimmed glasses now rested on his face, his hair was neatly combed to one side, a light blue turtle neck covered any traces of his tattoos and he was wearing slacks. a sigh left his lips before he practiced his cheesy smile again. “why do I have to be so brilliant?” he mutters, grabbing his stack of books as he left his room.
as he walked the halls, he made sure everyone who glanced at him saw the Saint: the good boy, the twin who was tired of causing trouble and wanted to start fresh now that he was attending escoria. no one would know his true intentions, except for Jin, although the other was completely down with the plan. even his father had no clue, which cost him some favoritism points, but in the end it would be worth it.
he reached the main hall on campus, where he was surrounded by other students. his signature smirk would have appeared but he knew better than that. slowly he started struggling with his book with one hand, trying to reach in his pocket for another. he put on a show o squinting his eyes as he tried to read the schedule he just pulled out, and once his glasses slipped off, he let a few books fall to the floor. “really?!?” he cried out. again he wanted to smirk, he could tell someone was going to take the bait, question is who? he knew he was going to find out soon enough.
it’s unnerving, azrael thinks as he skulks through the halls. one day in escoria is more unsettling than his entire life on the slums of the isle. the sun shines too bright, the children are too loud, and all of the pops of color hurt his eyes if he were being brutally honest. it’s difficult, as well, to be as charming as his father expects him to be. it takes too much effort, motivation that azra certainly does not have. so he acts as he always does, head to toe in dark colors and blending in with the shadows, what little there were as it is, with his own shadow as the only company he needs.
he does falter, however, as a small commotion catches his attention from the corners of his eyes. he watches a figure in blue fumble and struggle, purple irises moving with the books as they drop to the ground.
he paused, eyes flickering around the hall to see no one coming to the rescue. slowly, he steps away from the walls, frightening a few escoria students that must not have seen him slinking along the sidelines. he walks resolutely, purple gaze blank as always as he bends down, reaching out a hand to begin gathering the fallen books. he stands, balancing them in his arms and peering at the male through thick black bangs. silently, he holds the books out at arms length.
“these are yours,” and he hesitates, searching for the words that are sticky on his tongue, because they’d be polite, kind to utter in times like this. “are you alright? you look like you’re having trouble.”