Fragile Butterfly (2p!ItalyxReader): Chapter 1

(Teacher!2p!ItalyxAbused!Bullied!Reader)

((A/N: There is going to be some violence and swearing in this story, so beware~))

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((Reader's POV))

"Hey, Ugly!" Someone yelled at you as you walked passed. You ignored them and kept walking down the hallway towards your locker, but they cut you off by stepping in front of you. "Hey, I was talking to you!" The boy sneered, smirking a little. You looked up and glared at him.

"Bug-off," you said before pushing passed him and continued on your way. Behind you, you heard the boy and his friends laughing as they continued to mocked you behind your back.

You were in 16 and were in high school- or purgatory, as you liked to call it. But sometimes, Hell seemed to be a better fitting name. You had been bullied ever since you transferred to the school in the 4th grade. In truth, the bullies had never physically harmed you, never so much as even lifting a finger, except for the occasional thrown pencil or other small item. But that didn't stop you from gaining scars.

Though it was true the bullied never physically damaged you, it didn't stop them from teasing you- calling you names and mocking you behind your back. But no matter how much they teased you, you never let it show. You ignored all of them, and let there comments just slide on by. But those comments still affected you, creating scars in a place that no one was able to see.

Your heart.

Not even your friends knew that you were suffering. They knew about the teasing, but you brushed it off so easily that they thought nothing was wrong. In truth, you spent more time comforting your friends then they did you. You didn't want to be the one people pitied and comforted- you wanted to be the one that people could rely on, to be the shoulder that anybody could lean or cry on. You wanted to be strong, so you stood your ground and held your head high, never showing any reaction to the bullies' nasty words.

But in reality, deep down, those words really hurt. And deep inside, there was a voice, broken and crying, begging to be save.

You were too immersed in your inner thoughts as you dug through your locket that you almost didn't hear the warning bell ring, signaling that you had only a minute to get to class. Rushing, you tossed your things haphazardly and grabbed what you needed before slamming the locker door shut and jogging off to your Civics class. You slid into your seat just as the final bell rang.

As you dropped your stuff on your desk, you noticed a hand reach around from behind and snatch your eraser. You sighed.
About a week ago, your teacher had changed the seating arrangement, and you got stuck sitting in front of the most notorious bully in your grade- Dave.

Dave slightly taller than you, and had a head of messy brown hair and bad acne. He was just like all of the other bullies, but he seemed to be the most persistent of the bunch. Whenever he got the chance, he would steal something off of your desk, poke you in the back of the head, or tug your (h/l) hair. As annoying as he was though, you couldn't help but feel bad for him. Dave came from a home where he didn't live with his mother or father, but instead his aunt, and his aunt was a druggie and didn't give a damn about him. Because of that, you couldn't bring yourself to hate him, or anyone in that matter. You just couldn't hold a grudge.

Turning around in your seat, you looked the grinning boy in the eye and held out your hand.

"Give it back, Dave," you said, and his grin grew wider.

"Give what back?" he inquired, and you rolled your eyes at him.

"My eraser, Dave. I saw you grab it off my desk."

"What eraser? I don't have an eraser."

"I know you have it, so just give it back please." Man, he was annoying!

"Fine! Here- take it." He sneered, and chucked the eraser at you. It flew passed your face and bounce off the desk before falling to the ground. Sighing, you leaned over and picked it up before turning and opening your notebook as class started.

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One long hour later, the bell finally rang to let you out of school. Packing up your stuff, you trudged out into the crammed hallway, weaving your way through the thick crowd to your locker. Throwing your homework into your bag, you closed the locker door just as you heard someone call out to you.

"(Y/n)!" Turning, you saw your best friend, Allie, rushing toward you. Allie was in your grade and both taller and... thicker than you with chocolate brown eyes and long, brown, wavy hair. You smiled and hugged her as she came bustling up.

"Hey Allie!" You said cheerfully as the two of you separated, "Whats up?"

"Oh, nothing! Just a whole bunch of homework and stuff to go through," She complained and you laughed. Allie was a little 'special'. She had a small case of autism, so she didn't grasp information like you could, so she was always having trouble with her homework. You patted her shoulder comfortingly.

"It's OK, Allie. It's just homework after all!" You said, and Allie laughed.

"Yeah, I guess. See you later!" She yelled before bolting off towards the buses. Grinning, you threw on your backpack and walked down the halls towards the school doors.

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((Luciano's POV))

Luciano watched as (Y/n) chatted with her friend while he stood leaning against the door to his classroom. She was an average student who didn't stand out very much from her peers - so normal, in fact, that there was no reason he should feel interested in her. After all, she was just like all of the other boring people in the world, but there something about the girl that drew his attention.

She would never know it, but that was not a good thing. Luciano shook his head and continued to observe her.

Under his watchful gaze he saw her part ways with her friend and head toward the exit. As she walked, she passed a small group of boys, who proceeded to sneer at her as she went by. However, (Y/n) gave no inclination that she had heard or even seen them and just kept going.

Now, as a teacher, he should have been doing something about the bullies, but all the same he didn't want to have deal with them.

Her spirit, he concluded. The fact that she could ignore all of the teasing and bullying and still go on like nothing happened - that must be what had intrigued him. '...That and maybe the fact that she seems to have a natural affinity for Italian,' Luciano thought absently, glancing down at the stack of graded papers in his hand. There, on the top of the stack marked with a big red 'A', was (Y/n)'s test paper.
       But over all, he was sure it was her strong spirit that captured his attention the most. A spirit that he wanted to break, to see her broken before him, groveling and struggling in his grasp, crying and begging to be freed...

'Get your mind out of the gutter!' He though sternly, shaking himself out of his daze.

Yes, it was defiantly not a good thing that (Y/n) had caught his attention.

Sighing, Luciano glanced at the watch on his wrist and saw that he needed to be leaving, so he grabbed his stuff and locked his room up tight. Slinging his jacket over one arm and pulling on his hat, he walked out of the school with an apprehensive and excited smile beginning to tug at the corners of his lips.

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((Reader's POV))

"WHY DON'T YOU SHUT THE HELL UP?!" A loud voice shouted, followed by a loud BANG as something slammed against hard against a table. You flinched and pulled your blankets tighter around you, attempting to block out the noise from below.
Currently, you were at home in your room while your Mom's boyfriend of six months was down stairs in the kitchen playing card games with his buddies. At the moment, it seemed like things were about to get violent. You would have called the cops on them, but the last time you had done that... you shuddered and gently cradled the left side of your abdomen, where you knew a large bruise had blossomed.

You despised your mother's boyfriend more than anything. He was horrid and abusive, towards both you and your mother, and there was nothing you could do about it. Your mother had tired to break up with him numerous times, but each time she had chickened out, afraid of what his reaction would be. Right now she was probably down there with him, standing obediently nearby or next to him, his arm slung over her shoulder...
That image pissed you off more than anything. Your mother - your kind and gentle mother - deserved so much better!

Personally, you thought a bullet to the head would be much more effective, but you weren't willing to go to jail for committing murder, not over that ass-hole. It would be a waste of time, though you had to admit to yourself that you had almost considered doing it many times.

You could tell other people what was going on, but they would never believe you. Because, to the pubic, he was a corporate genius and successful business man, kind and considerate to those all around him.
What a bunch of bull crap. That was just a mask he used to make himself seem more likable and used it to move up the ranks, and it was that mask that your mother had fallen in love with.
Because on the flip side, out of the public eye, he was a lying, cheating, abusive bastardo that cared for nothing more than himself and his money.

Suddenly, there came a series of loud bangs from below, followed by the sound of breaking china and a scream.
Immediately you hoped up from your bed and slipped on your shoes. Pulling on your light (f/c) parka and shoving your phone into your pocket, you opened your bedroom window and slipped outside onto the roof, making sure to close the window behind you. Crouching, you sped quietly across the roof down the make-shift ladder you had made. Once your feet were firmly back on the ground, you pulled your hood up over your face and took off running into the woods behind your house.
       You were sure the neighbors had heard your mother's scream and the commotion going on inside your home, so there was no doubt in your mind that the cops would show up soon. After all, this was not the first time something like this had happened, and you didn't want to be caught there when they did show up. Word traveled fast in your community, and your bullies would soon hear abut it. There was no reason to give them another thing to harass you about, so you fled.

Following a familiar route, you kept up your pace until you were sure that you were a good distance from your home before slowing down. Walking slowly now, you absently hummed a tune to yourself and kicked some pebbles with your feet. Looking up, you admired the full moon and the few stars in the sky that peeked through the tree branches.

Suddenly, there was the sound of something crashing through the forest, getting louder and louder as it neared. Heart pounding, you crouched behind some trees and waited, your fight-or-flight response ready to go if whatever it was turned out to be a threat.
Moments later, a figure appeared through the bushes, limping and cradling one arm. Exhausted, the figure tripped over his own feet and stumbled to the ground and you rushed from your hiding place to help him.

"Hey, sir, are you OK?!" You asked frantically, kneeling beside the figure. Panicked eyes looked up at you from the ground, and for a moment the two of you locked eyes, and in the next the figure suddenly sat up, clamping down on your shoulders with his large hands, startling you.

"P-Please!" Cried the man, "You gotta help me! I'm...!" There was a soft thump and the man's eyes dulled, his words ceasing as he slumped over onto the ground before you, a small dagger protruding from his back. Your eyes widened and you began to scream as a hand clamped down over your mouth. Panicking, you stared up into the mystery figure's eyes, which were a startling shade of violet-purple.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you raggaza." The man whispered, his words barely registering in your frazzled mind as the moon peeked out from behind the clouds, illuminating half of his face and revealing the dark splotches that covered it. Red. Crimson. These vibrant colors registered all too quickly.

Blood. This man was covered in blood.

Scared beyond your whits, your overloaded mind did the only thing it could do to protect itself in this situation: it shut itself down.

Those vibrant, mysterious purple eyes were the last thing you saw before you blacked out.