"Bullshit!" Mao refused to believe this hadn't been done to him on purpose, some sort of payback for all the ragging Rolan's friends had given him. He childishly jerked his head away from the wad of fabric Rolan was trying to help him with, covering his nose with his hand instead while he glared daggers at the other boy, eyes watery from the pain of his injury. He tried again to get up, but his limbs remained clunky, though Mao knew it wasn't because he hit his head. It was as if he had lost years worth of motor skills. "What did you do?" The boy hissed his question again, impatiently shoving away Rolan's hand. "Don't touch me!"
'Twink.' 'Klutz.' Mao wasn't sure which term offended him the most. He may not have been able to jump to his feet and break the guy's jaw with a kick to the face, but he could still let his displeasure be known. Mao jerked forward and spat, spraying Rolan's friend with blood. "Fuck you!"