This is for you, Skyuki.

Before- before that, Leo was always proud of his hands.

He could do so much with them; build, fix, create. Not a lot of people saw what was so special about the line of work his mother had partaked in, but that was it. The final product, the endgame... that was it. That was what all those hours of work were. The beauty was what made it worth it.

These days, Leo doesn't really like his hands.

No, he hates them.

In the cold November weather, he's glad for the low temperatures- it gives him a reason to wear gloves and hide his worn fingers and palms from view. Leo tucks them into his pockets, his exhales pretty white puffs in the frosty air. He sits alone under the jungle gym, the sand hard and freezing even through his jeans underneath him.

This- this is fine, though. Alone is good. Alone is better, he can't hurt anyone this way.

This is fine.

Deep in his chest, Leo's chest aches.

Am I lonely?

He listens for the tapping of a (their) shared secret message in his ears, in his head, in his imagination. It doesn't come. No matter how much he struggles to hear it, it remains out of his grasp. Elusive is the word for it, what the teacher had taught in class just the other day.

The loud laughter of children reaches him instead of the sound he's wishing for. It's grating and annoying, but they're happy, Leo realizes, as he watches a few of his classmates kick a ball around, blissful in spite of the environment. They're happy.

A little over a year ago today, Leo killed his mother.

Today is the second time he hurts someone.

"Hey!" someone barks, and Leo's shoulders tense. It's a familiar noise, and he should run, but for once, Leo doesn't feel like running. He stays where he's sitting instead, hands trembling inside the thin fabric providing cover.

David, the bully of the playground, stalks over, his "friends" trailing in his wake. Leo knows that the only reason they're in David's gang is because they don't have enough will to fend or stand up for themselves- if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, his mother always used to say. It's stupid, and cowardly. Leo hopes to never be like that.

Following the sudden spark of anger, his hands still.

"Whatchya doin', huh?" David stops abruptly in front of him, kicking a cloud of dust and grains of sand into his face. Leo forces himself not to blink, even as his eyes burn. "Sitting by yourself again, loser?"

Leo smiles. "Maybe."

Later, he learns that you can't just give them a smile and hope it will please them. No, better to grovel and plead, and if that doesn't work, give up.

("If someone is bothering you, walk away or be assertive," the teachers always say. That never works. A few months ago, Leo learned the hard way, with a bleeding mouth and a black eye.)

The bell rings, signaling that the temporary recess is over. At the doors leading inside the school, children file into lines.

Leo gets up, ready to walk in, but David moves into his path, blocking him.

For a few seconds, Leo can say nothing.

"Can you let me by?" he finally manages to say, hating the begging tone in his voice. "Please?" It's pathetic. Tia Callida would be disappointed.

In the sky, gray clouds drift by, heedless of the people below. A gale blows through, ruffling Leo's curls and temporarily blocking his vision. David glances around, checking for any teachers- once he's made sure that no one is watching, he turns to Leo with a cruel grin on his face, his eyes eager. "Hold him."

His cronies do, taking Leo's arms at either side. Leo starts to resist (futile) with no success. Before he can shout for help, David punches him in the chest, swift and unmerciful.

All of his breath leaves him in that one blow. Leo hunches over, gasping for air. (The sound of that is pathetic, too.)

David laughs above him, a guffaw.

Leo looks up, water in his eyes. "P-Please, don't..."

David punches him in the face, a mean right hook, and even the tough kids holding Leo standing can't stop him from falling.

He hits the ground with a sob that doesn't come out right, stopped halfway. Leo can taste blood in his mouth.

He really starts to cry this time, bawling, like a little baby.

One of David's gang stares down at him uneasily. "This is too much, man."

Through his tears, Leo can see David glaring at him. "You want a beating, too?"

A short silence.

"No?" David says. "Good. Then shut the fuck up." He sounds smug, proud of himself even. Like he's so much better for knowing curses at their age.

A tendril of incredulous laughter starts to snake up Leo's throat, but he prevents it from escaping.

A sharp kick to his stomach, and Leo coughs out blood.

Something cracks; he hears it, feels it. Cracked and broken, just like him.

Leo starts to cry harder. It hurts. Hurts so much. He didn't think he could ever experience pain like this, not since his mother died.

The blows continue to rain down, and panic starts to fill him. Stop- he just wants it to stop.

Leo throws out his hands to protect himself from the next onslaught.

It doesn't come.

Fire burns his gloves to embers.

David screams, and Leo gets up and runs from the scene, from the playground, from everything, his chest aching, his head hurting, his mouth not big enough for all his sobs-

He doesn't look back.

Posted this quickly, so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes! R & R, please!