Equal, though not the same.

"FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!.." Chanted a large crowd of teenagers, as a brunet tackled a blond kid to the ground, repeatedly landing punches into his stomach. The blond boy wailed and gasped for breath, already given a black eye and a broken, dangling arm.. The brown-haired boy seemed to show no mercy, his fists dripping with blood, his expression one of menace and intimidation. He then felt a tight, painful grasp on his arm. "Ezra! That's enough, the guy is literally dying!" Yelled a tall girl. The aggressor rolled his eyes.

"Come on, let's.. let's get you out of here." She softly said to the teenager sprawled on the ground, clutching his stomach as he's pulled up by her. The crowd drew themselves away, the commotion evident to passersby in the corridor. Shortly after, heavy footfalls are heard approaching the circled student, Ezra, whose eyes widen and shoulders tense. Before him stood an imposing man, curtly speaking, "You'll be coming with me."

Ezra looked around, his eyes fell on his peers, the disappointed, the frightened, the smug, all taunting him in more ways than one. His face falls at what he's caused. "Hey, are you even listening to me?" A sharp tone snapped him out of his trance, he reluctantly turned his head away and caught up with the older man. He sighed. He already knew what was coming, and he knew it wouldn't be great. At all. He passed through the hallway, the authoritative man opened the door, ushering him inside. Ezra hesitantly walked in and took his seat on a chair right by a desk. Principal Joe Stanley is printed on a name plate atop the desk. The boy's leg shaking is barely noticeable under the table, he was going to dread this conversation, wasn't he?

"You got into trouble again," Spoke the gruff tone of Stanley, it sounded nothing like a question, rather a statement. Ezra nodded silently, his fingers dug into the denim of his jeans, subconsciously looking for something to grip. Although he got struck by the undying pain in his knuckles, and the blood trickling down, a reminder of what he's done.

"Why?" Stanley glared.
"He started it." Ezra mumbled.

A scoff sounded from the elderly man. "Ah, a classic. "He started it." And you continued it." He mocked.

Ezra's lips purse together, taking on a defensive tone. "But it's not entirely my fault!"

"Not a word." The principal huffed, picking up his phone to dial a number, silence fell over the room as he waited on a response. Ezra bit his bottom lip, looking down at the dried-blood on his knuckles, any slight movement peeled it off.

"Hello?" Spoke an accented voice over the phone.

"Hello, Mrs. Cruz, am I correct?" The man held the speaker to his ear, falling silent before adding. "Yes, Ezra has gotten into another one of these fights today. It'd be best if we had this conversation personally." He sighed, and listened to her muffled voice speak.

"I know, I know. You have to." He bid her goodbye and hung up, shooting his gaze back to Ezra. "Your mother's coming shortly." He snarled.

Ezra mentally readied himself for what's to come. "Can't I wash the blood off, at least?" He asked. "No. You're staying right where you are." Stanley sneered. Ezra rolled his eyes, a million thoughts ran through his head. "Am I getting suspended again? I'm probably getting suspended. Am I getting grounded again? I'm probably getting grounded."

✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧~✧

He's suddenly snapped out of his train of thought as the door swings open to reveal a curly haired woman, sitting before Ezra with a glare, but then directing it to the principal. "Dios mío.." She murmured to herself as she scrutinized her son's state, his subtly shaking limbs, his dry-bloodied knuckles, a harsh bruise on his cheek and his disheveled hair, there were faint blood stains in his sleeves and jeans. Stanley cleared his throat, "Mrs. Cruz, we meet again.." She directs her pointed gaze at him. "What did he do?" She blatantly asked, clearly not in the mood for pleasantries.