(GMR) CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: TEENAGE PROBLEMS II

The next shove had more force than Greg expected, more than it should’ve had. His sneakers squeaked against the tiled flooring as he staggered back away from the lockers, his own backpack swinging hard against his side. Instinct screamed at him to flare his aura, brace himself with it, and hit back until she stopped.

But no, not here. Not in public in front of everyone. 

Greg ground his heels against the floor, forcing balance into place, and clenched his jaw, breathing hard. He hadn’t gone down, and that alone sent a ripple of surprise through the watching crowd. The old Greg would’ve folded by now, mumbled an apology with his head bowed, and fled. 

This new Greg stayed standing.

He rolled his shoulders back, squaring up. And though his heart pounded in his chest, he refused to look away from Sophia’s glare. “…That all you’ve got?” he said, loud enough for the bystanders to hear.

A couple of them snickered. Someone even muttered, “No way that’s Greg.”

Sophia’s eyes narrowed, her smile turning into a slight frown. She wasn’t thrown by his words, he realized that immediately. No, her attention lingered on his stance, the way he hadn’t lost his footing completely. She was measuring him.

And Greg realized, with a sinking gut, that she knew. 

Maybe not exactly what had changed, but she knew the why, and that he wasn’t the useless nobody she’d dismissed before.

Her voice dropped, meant only for him. “You’re different.”

Greg fought the panic clawing up his throat—the urge to glance around nervously—and kept his expression as flat as he could. “People grow up, Hess.”

Her eyes lit with dark amusement. “Not like this.”

Emma shifted beside her uneasily, clearly missing the subtext of their conversation, while Madison muttered, “Come on, let’s just go.”

But Sophia didn’t move immediately. She leaned in, just an inch from his ear, close enough that Greg caught the faint scent of her shampoo. “You hiding something, Veder?” 

Greg’s heart hammered. Every part of him screamed to shove her back, to show her he wasn’t prey anymore. Even Yang egged him on in his mind, grinning: “C’mon, do it. Show her you’re not afraid and knock her flat.”

But Blake’s voice cut through before he did something he would regret. “No, Greg. Not here.”

He exhaled, unclenching his fists with visible effort. “What I’m hiding,” each word out of his mouth was chosen carefully, “is how little I care what you think of me anymore.”

For a long moment, Sophia stared at him, as if she could peel back his skin with her eyes and find the truth underneath. Then, slowly, she stepped back, lips curled in that half-smile that wasn’t victory or defeat, but promise. Of what? He didn't know yet, but oddly enough, he wanted to find out. 

“Alright, Veder,” she murmured. “Let’s see how long you keep this up.”

With that, she turned on her heel, Madison and Emma scrambling to fall into step behind her. As the trio moved off, the tide of the hallway noise slowly resuming in their wake, Greg knew the truth then.  Emma might’ve been the face of the group, the one who set the tone with whispers and cruel little smiles, but Sophia was the real power in the group. 

Greg let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he'd been holding, and his muscles ached from being held too taut. 

Taylor—funnily enough, almost forgotten, though she’d been the reason for all of it—was still there, clutching her books to her chest. For a second, her eyes met his. Her mouth opened, as if to say something, then closed again. Instead, she just gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher, part suspicion, part… something else.

It was quickly ignored in favor of Team RWBY’s voices reverberating in the back of his head: Yang and Ruby practically vibrated with excitement and pride, and though Blake and Weiss were still cautious, they approved of his actions nonetheless.

Greg adjusted his backpack, exhaled, and muttered under his breath, “Yeah. That went well.”

But in the pit of his stomach, he knew Sophia wasn’t done. She’d seen too much, and unlike Ethan, she wasn’t small-time.

Sighing, Greg turned back toward Taylor, ready to… what, exactly? Accept her thanks? Share a nod of mutual respect from a hero to a civilian? Something. But the girl was already leaving, head down, and shoulders hunched as if she couldn’t get away fast enough.

For a second, Greg just blinked after her, caught off-guard.

It wasn’t like he’d expected applause. Okay, maybe a little. A thank you, a nod, or even a glance that said she noticed he’d stuck his neck out for her would have sufficed. Instead, she moved as if he hadn’t even been there, and the silence she left behind gnawed at him in a way Sophia’s perceptiveness hadn’t.

Sure, it wasn’t mandatory to say thank you. Heroes weren’t supposed to do it for recognition. Ruby had told him that once, with her usual cheer that somehow always sounded like it was trying to cover up something else. Still, Greg couldn’t shake off the sting. A word, a look, or even a muttered “yeah, thanks” would’ve been preferable to nothing at all.

He hitched his backpack higher, trying not to let the disappointment show on his face. 

Weiss’s cool voice cut into his thoughts. “Did you really expect gratitude? She’s traumatized, Greg. This isn’t about you.”

Yang, less restrained, groaned in frustration. “Oh, come on, Weiss-cream. He literally saved her from those jerks! The least she could do is say thanks.”

Blake’s tone was gentler, mediating as always. “She seems the type not to trust people easily based on Greg’s memory.” Pausing, she added, this time to him, “Don’t take it personally.”

He wanted to argue—it didn't matter what she went through; it was still rude—but he knew Blake was probably right. It wasn’t just today. Taylor had been the Trio’s target for years. One stand-off in the hallway wasn’t going to rewrite that.

Still, as he watched her vanish into the tide of students, Greg couldn’t stop the bitter thought creeping in.

Heroes weren’t supposed to want thanks. Heroes were supposed to do the right thing because it was right. But damn it, a little recognition would’ve been nice.