I don't think I could enjoy school even if I tried. The teachers are always way too cocky and the students are all way too annoying. It was Monday, the day dragging on way too slowly and my thoughts were racing way too fast. It seemed like a year before lunch hour began. Yeah, I know I'm exaggerating. Let me complain.

That day was so stressful that I decided to do something I hadn't in a surprisingly long time. When the bell rang, I walked out of my classroom and shoved everything that I didn't need into my locker before slamming it shut, stuffing my hands into my pockets, and walking to the very back of the school.

There stood a teenager wearing a dark green shirt and faded ripped jeans. Combat boots decorated his feet and his hands were covered with black fingerless gloves. His hair was a brown mess and his eyes a darker shade of his hair. A shovel was strapped to his back and a lit cigarette was placed between his lips, his tired eyes staring into the falling snow. I approached him and his gaze slowly turned to me. The boy's skin was slightly tanned and he didn't look at all happy to be alive.

He took the cigarette between his middle and index fingers, lifting it away from his mouth and blowing out smoke into the afternoon air.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever show up again," he said, watching me carefully. His voice was tainted with a somewhat aggravating French accent.

"Shut up," I responded almost immediately, squatting down next to his standing figure. He tossed me a cigarette and handed me a lighter. Once I was finished lighting my cigarette, I returned the lighter and he stuffed it back into his pocket.

"Hm.." mumbled the man. I took a drag of my cigarette, not bothering to look up at him, "Something must be bothering you."

I stayed silent, inhaling and exhaling smoke in an attempt to damage my lungs.

"God's an asshole like that," he sighed. Then silence. We stayed like that for the majority of the hour, sucking on our cigarettes and being content with the knowledge that someone was there.

After a while, I put out my cigarette and rose to my feet, allowing my hands to go back and rest inside of my jacket pockets.

"It's to do with that twitchy blonde, right?" He said, crushing his burned out cigarette into the snow and taking out another one.

"How the hell did you guess that?" I asked, flipping him off.

"You're always looking at him," he responded with a half shrug. Man his accent was pissing me off.

"Mind your own business," I grunted.

"If you care about him so much, just tell him," he said.

"Shut up," I turned around and was about to walk away when his annoying voice traveled into my ears.

"You know, God is always finding ways to fuck our lives up," he began, "You have to learn to fight back. Stop being a pussy."

"Fuck off and dig some holes, douchebag," I flipped him off again and stormed away, frustrated with the fact that he was right. Why was I always wrong?

What if I just wanted a peaceful day without thinking of Tweek? What if I didn't want all this bullshit about how I'm such a terrible person? I get it, I screwed up! Everyone else can stop rubbing it in my face already. Trust me, I know I'm an asshole. I have to live with myself every day.

I was ready to just leave campus and ditch the rest of the school day but I heard soft whimpers coming from around the corner. I glanced around before slowly making my way toward where the source of the noise was and saw Tweek huddled in the corner of the hallway, grabbing at his hair furiously and trembling like some sort of lost Chihuahua.

"Tweek..?" I asked, wondering what could possibly cause him to fall into such a hysterical state. I looked up automatically after hearing my voice. I noticed his hair was pushed down by some sort of liquid and so were his clothes. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and his eyes were puffy and red. His hair was wilder than ever from his previous clutch on the strands and his entire body shook in what I guessed to be fear.

"C-Cr-Craig..." he stuttered. I frowned and sat down next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close. This time, he made no move to resist. In fact, he wrapped his arms around me and let it all out.

"What happened?" I asked, already feeling the blood in my veins begin to boil at the thought of anyone even thinking of hurting Tweek. I'll beat the shit out of whoever made him cry.

"S-some - GAH - seniors..... decided th-th-that it-it'd be - ERK - f-fun to.. to pick o-on me...." he explained between sobs, "s-so... they took m-my - AGH - ther-thermos and p-poured it over my head... A-and then pushed me - ngh - against a l-locker..."

"Shit, Tweek, we have to get you into some dry clothes," I said, standing up and bringing him with me. He normally kept scolding hot coffee in his thermos so I was surprised to see that there were no visible burns on him, which was a good sign after all.

"I-I don't have a-any spare ones," he said, staring at the floor but staying close to me.

"Go home," I told him.

"N-NO!" Tweek's head shot up and he stared at me with huge eyes, "M-my parents would k-kill me- GAH! - if they f-found out I left sch-school - ERK! - and went h-home!!"

I stared at him before sighing, "Fine, come to my house then. No one should be home."

"B-but what if this is some crazy scheme and you're really luring me in so you can murder me and s-stuff my body into a box and send m-me off to get experimented on!!! ARGH! I don't w-want anyone to t-touch me when I-I'm dead - UGH! Too much pressure!" his hands moved back to his hair and he tugged on it roughly.

"Tweek, shut up," I told him, grabbing his wrists and pulling them away from his hair. Then I turned around and dragged him to my house despite the occasional protests.

■ ■ ■

I swear this kid doesn't eat anything. All of my shirts looked too big for him and I guess that might have something to do with the fact that I always bought clothes with the purpose of them being somewhat baggy but that's not the point right now. I never paid much attention to his body build until now; he was super scrawny and awkward looking. I wouldn't be surprised if the only calories he consumed were from the coffee he drank. Did he even eat breakfast? I figured it would be best to steer away from that subject, though.

"Here, this should fit you," I finally said, tossing a black long-sleeved shirt in his direction. The article of clothing was a scoop neck with a two horizontal white stripes on both arms. It was a shirt that fit perfectly to my form but I bought tops too big for a reason. He nodded and scurried into my bathroom.

I was thankful that he didn't get any coffee on his pants since I didn't have a good choice of bottoms that wouldn't fall to his ankles. So I sat on my bed and stared out the window. I hadn't realized how weird this was until now. Tweek Tweak - a guy that hates my guts for a good reason - was in my house.

And we were talking like normal people!

Soon the door to my room creaked open and in came a disheveled looking blonde spaz. He was holding his green button up shirt and was uncomfortably shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"I'll wash that for you," I said, standing up an walking over. I took the shirt away from him and told him that I'd be right back. I through the shirt into the washer and turned it on. Then I turned on my feet and went back into the room where I saw Tweek sitting on my bed and staring into his lap.

I took this time to actually look at him. The shirt I had lent him was a little too big for the boy, so it hung off his shoulders in creases and folds. Still, it looked downright adorable on him.

A sudden urge to just hug him overcame my body and I tried my best to ignore it.

"Who were those seniors?" I asked, sitting down next to him and leaning up against the wall that my bed was pressed up against.

"I-I don't... kn-know..." He responded, not looking at me.

"Liar," I mumbled, glancing away.

There was a fairly long silence before I got a reply, "The-the same group o-of guys that you - URGH - tr-tried to fit in with..."

My entire body tensed up and I stared at him with a small frown. That couldn't be right.. Who am I kidding, of course it's true. They were a group of assholes who manipulated others for fun. I know from firsthand experience.

"They won't bother you again," I informed him. There was no way in hell I'd let them hurt him again.

I could feel the bed shaking in sync with his twitches, "H-how can you be s-so - ERK! - sure?!"

Slowly, I lifted my gaze to meet his own, "Trust me."

"That's not as easy a-as it sounds," he told me.

"I know," I sighed and looked away. I was met with another long silence. Silence, silence, and more silence. Finally, his voice sliced through the thickening atmosphere.

"Cr-Craig?" He fidgeted.

"What is it?" I asked, not daring to look toward him.

Hesitance, then a short "GAH!" and more silence.

I couldn't take it anymore, "Spit it out."

"A-are you - ERK - free tonight?" I turned to him in shock, wondering what he had in mind. He wasn't planning some sort of revenge on me was he? Wow, Craig, get a hold of yourself. You're not the paranoid type.

I nodded my head, urging him to continue on with whatever it was he wanted to say to me.

"L-let's go to Stark's Pond."