A/N: Wellll, let's see, where do I even start... Well, I wrote this a year ago. Literally, a year ago. I was going to post it in February for Valentines Day but I couldn't meet the deadline so I just gave up. Once more, it has been a year since I wrote this and reading it back, I have to say... What the hell was wrong with me?

Let me just get this out: I loathe, hate and despise this story with every fiber of my being. Everything about it is awful, and it makes me want to claw my eyes out and cry. But seeing as this is Fanfiction, I figure... whatever. I've read worse. I've certainly favorited worse. So, for those who may be able to find something of worth in this, here's what I've got. I just want it out of my files, okay? *Cries into cornflakes* I WORKED TOO LONG ON IT TO JUST DELETE IT.

It is not finished, and I will be parting it up because I think it reads better that way. One chapter a week. Every Friday. How's that sound? If people take enough interest, I might even finish up the last crappy little chapter and be done with it. :P But... I don't really want to. xD

Whatevs. File clearing.

For the record, I don't ship Brainy with Astrid anymore, or with anyone, tbh. Not really. xD You guys are welcome to if you like it, but I just... Idk. I have my reasons for it but I won't bore you. xD IT'S BECAUSE HE'S GAY, CRAIG B CONFIRMED—No, no xDDD They're just kinda long, and this A/N is already long as is, so xD

I wrote the disclaimer a year ago, too, and don't really wanna change it... Reading it back's kinda funny. xD The poem mentioned in the disclaimer I never got around to putting in the story, so don't expect to ever actually see it... I just don't want to delete that part of the disclaimer. xD Posterity, yo.

NOW GO READ.

Disclaimer: Yeeeaaah, I don't own crap. "HA!" isn't anywhere near mine, and neither is Peapod Kid's "real" name, Pearce Podalecki. I got it from the story "The Heart Never Lies" (READ IT), thought it was genius. Also, there is a joke in here that I may have written with another joke I read off of twitter in mind. I don't know where it came from, but in the spirit of being a creator, not a copier, I elaborated on the joke, " 'Oh, you're British, so do you have tea with the queen?' 'Do you have McNuggets with Obama?' " or something along those lines. But I do own Astrid. She is of my creation. And about equally a pain in my butt to write out as Brainy. I curse the day I pulled that lever! *Shakes fist to the sky* Oh, I also own the poem near the end there. I wrote that, so no stealy. xP Lol, but you won't be seeing that for a while. Pack a lunch, mules. :P xD

Watching

People fascinate me. With how they act and deal with certain situations in their lives. I just find it an all around interesting display they put on. They don't even realize how they look to the outside world. They're much too occupied with their own foolish problems and lives, and are otherwise blind to the obvious in most cases. It really can be quite pathetic at times.

That's why I love watching people. I've never been much of a talker, but that doesn't mean I don't exist. That I'm not still here. I see everything that goes on around me. And I won't lie. Most of the time, it's absolutely hilarious. If people paid me more attention, they might notice. The spark of insidiousness in my eye, the smile barely visible against my heavily breathing lips, the way my eyes shift around the room. It's like I'm in my own personal soap opera, and I'm just one of the generic background characters that always seems to be randomly present in the room. And I really must admit, I love it.

I'll never be the main character in this twisted story we call life. I'll never be the leading man or the dashing prince or 'Mr. Right.' But that doesn't concern me, nor will it ever. I'm more than content to be invisible to the rest of the group. It allows me so much better of a vantage point. And with how crazy my dear friends can be all the time, I'll need it.

I wouldn't exactly call myself a Rhonda Lloyd-type ephishianado or anything of the sort, because I do not use my extensive knowledge on my classmates to cause trouble or spread gossip, but I do make the extra effort to know what's going on at all times. Simply because I find it entertaining, and these are my friends.

In the last few years, much has changed. Particularly with me. With recent changes to the social diameter of our 'gang,' if you will, I've had to make adjustments to my routine… many adjustments.

To start, since we all hit the life-changing stage of preteen (or twelve, if you will), my friends have been pairing off like love bugs. Every one of the pairings has had me moderately unsurprised, as I have been watching these people for years and predicted early on who would most likely end up with who, but there were one or two that made my eyes widen for a second or two. Although all the signs had been there since early on, I hadn't thought they'd come together this soon. Not until sometime around the age of sixteen or seventeen as perhaps a drunken make out session at a party, but at twelve? I had to admit, I was impressed.

Rhonda and Curly were the most shocking to me. Curly had been pursuing Rhonda voraciously for many years, but Rhonda had been rejecting him for just as long, in a possibly even more excitable manner than what was originally demonstrated in his advances. Their relationship was very touch-and-go. There was just as likely a chance that they'd end up together as there was they would not. For a while, back at the beginning of the fourth grade when Rhonda had been showing interest in Harold, I'd thought Curly's boisterous adoration was just as doomed as my—… I thought it was doomed.

He was persistent, though… I always admired that of him. He didn't let the signs get him down. He was one of the reasons I'd decided to pursue my own heart's desires at one point… but I'd regretted it. I still to this day don't know how Curly managed to keep it up for so long, when so much was against him. I suppose it was because Curly knew his love was meant to be. That was always a comfort I found myself lacking…

But as it would turn out, Rhonda's crush on Harold had been brief, and for no more reason than that he was the oldest in the class and supposedly 'mature'… She was sorely disappointed later on, though, and did everything she could to cover up her little 'mistake.' I'd heard her pledge later on that she would not be having any more casualties to her reputation. Which I thought to be yet another strike against Curly's chances.

After all, Curly was and always had been a geek. I knew because I was inevitably classified as such as well. You can't have glasses, asthma, and allergies without being a geek, apparently. Not to mention my high academic prowess, though that was kept relatively quiet. I'd been offered awards before, but I always forfeited. I didn't want the attention. Curly, however, was a geek in a different sort. He wore glasses, had a bowl cut, had always been short, and it was to my understanding that he also had some allergies to certain plants and gerbils (oddly enough). But for the most part, it was simply because of how… different, he was. He was, kindly put, a freak… No, honestly, that truly is as kindly as it can be put. He'd always been excitable, his sanity always in question, and sometimes I'd heard jokes before that he wore glasses that thick and difficult to see-through so people couldn't see his eyes violently twitching on a regular basis. Though I have always considered Curly a good friend of mine, I wouldn't be surprised to find that the rumors were true. He is very… eccentric.

When it came to Rhonda, the self-proclaimed most popular girl in school, dating a geek-ridden lunatic would be about as horrifically self-destructive as a nuclear bomb to Washington DC.

Logically, to me, it had always made more sense for her to end up with Harold. Simply because she was a popular girl, and he was a bully. I could easily see Harold becoming the quarter back for our football team in High School, with the help of Rhonda, his style and hygiene increasing, thanks to Rhonda, and his overall popularity going through the roof, thanks to Rhonda. The idea worried me, though. Harold had shown a willingness to change before, and I knew Rhonda would take advantage of that. But the changes wouldn't necessarily be for the better. He had and always would be a loud brute with a simple intellect (not low, mind you, but simply designed), and who knew what popularity and the encouragement to be a loud brute would do to him. And Rhonda? She would never change. She'd proven that. She had the ability to adapt, and as a future businesswoman, she would need that, but at the end of the day, she would still be the same self-indulgent, proud heiress she'd always been. She would never change. This was why the idea of Harold and Rhonda together worried me, but logically, it was what I found to be most likely. After all, it made much more sense than Rhonda suddenly finding herself to be deeply in love with an insane, nerdy, overly-excitable geek.

Yet they'd made it together. I was pleasantly surprised. Some part of me had always hoped they would end up together, but that hope had been forgotten and washed away with the pairing off of two other friends of mine. Because someone as crazy and geeky as Curly ending up with the most popular girl in our class gave me hope that perhaps I could do the same… But I could no longer hope for such things. Now all I could do was simply be happy my friend had finally gotten what he'd always wanted. And I was. Very.

It had been such a complicated process, and their relationship such a sudden and unexpected occurrence. This was one of the many reasons I loved being the shadow in the room. I loved complicated things. I had had a front row seat to everything that had happened, and nothing to distract me from my observations. I had seen the desperate, embarrassed looks from Rhonda. The excited, smug bravado Curly had suddenly had on. Something had happened. I'd known it long before the two hours had passed and a sudden loud, unauthorized proclamation had sounded over the PA system that he'd finally "won Rhonda over" and "true love truly does conquer all." Rhonda had been horrified, but Curly was rather unpredictable, not to mention mentally unstable. She really should have kept a closer eye on him.

Though unlike my fellow classmates, I was probably the only one who knew there was always a method to Curly's madness. Despite popular belief, he never did anything crazy unless first provoked. Once around April Fools Day I'd been sitting next to Curly and I heard him suddenly whispering about Rhonda complaining about the bell being too loud. Next thing I'd known he'd dismantled the bell all together and was laughing maniacally from a ladder he'd somehow managed to steal from the janitor's closet.

So I knew why Curly had made that announcement. He knew Rhonda would try to keep her feelings for him a secret. She wouldn't want her reputation tainted. She'd try to keep it under wraps, destroy it all together, then sweep it under the rug before anyone ever caught a whiff of it. Getting it all out in the open would mean she'd have to learn to adapt and accept it. It really was quite genius.

…Or so I thought that was why he did it, anyway. As I stated previously, Curly is unpredictable. He very well could have just done it because the thought popped into his head.

There was no telling. But Rhonda liked drama… and Curly could certainly bring that. Twenty-four hours a day…

Their getting together had not necessarily had any impact on my own daily tendencies, though, mind you. Although it did cause a rather sudden spike in my social life, as Rhonda suddenly had the urge to host a party every other week or so to celebrate random anniversaries between her and "Thad," as she'd suddenly decided she'd call him. Any excuse to have a party.

Which is actually where I find myself right now. I forget what month we're celebrating this time, but Rhonda's entertaining her guests as usual with Curly on her arm, in an attempt to keep him out of trouble, I'm sure. She pays me no mind as I stand at the back of the room, keeping up a smile just in case so she doesn't feel the need to make sure I'm having a fantastic time.

I'm not really, though. These parties are fun, I suppose, but tonight has been rather uneventful. I'm content to just stand here, thinking about my classmates. Something about the last month or two has made me very thoughtful of my past. I'm not sure what, though.

Perhaps it's Helga and Arnold dancing over at the other end of the room. They look… happy. It makes me feel a bit… or a lot… Oh, it just makes me feel bad.

The two got together years ago, though. Two, to be exact. Really closer to three. And five months. Not that I was counting or anything…

I've been happy for them. I truly have been. I've cut myself off from… from everything. I don't… stalk… I don't write poetry anymore… I don't kiss my pillow… I've thrown out the pictures, burned any small… shrine-like… things… I just exist, and continue to find joy in the simple pleasures of watching. The thing I've always loved. I find solace in silence, comfort in the sounds of my own breathing, enjoyment in quiet, unnoticed observation. I know everything about these people. I have known them my entire life. Sure, I've had a few slip-ups and followed her home once or twice out of habit, just to… just to make sure she's happy. And one or two poems might have come out of it, but I did what I always did with them. I folded them up and hid them under my mattress, with the rest of them.

Sometimes they keep me up at night. Sleeping on my secrets, my obsessive past only a turn of the sheets away. Sometimes I think it would be best to burn them, but it would hurt too much. A little piece of my soul is in every one of them. Destroying them would feel too much like destroying myself.

My wheezing has become considerably heavier so I begrudgingly take out my inhaler and take a puff of it before putting it back in my pocket. I've always had the thing, but it just seemed pointless to use it. Who did I need to talk to? I had no such desire. It was a good excuse not to. And besides, I could say a few words perfectly fine without it if ever required. I did, however, use it to keep quiet sometimes. I used it before class, I used it before when I wanted to keep a low profile when… ahem, stalking, and I used it before sports so I wouldn't die. Nobody ever knew I used it, though. Apparently. I'd had no idea my keeping a low profile was equivalent to everyone thinking I didn't require medication. I'd heard rumors people actually thought I had some kind of mental issues.

I chuckle softly to myself at the notion, a deep, slightly breathy sound. I'm used to it, after all. I am a geek, and having such a status meant I had to bear certain social burdens. I just find it funny, though. Sometimes baffling, but overall amusing. I've been made fun of for my wheezing, my pale complexion and platinum hair that practically blend right in together, and for my prematurely deep voice. I can't really blame them. I am an odd sight, I guess.

I've been alone for a long time now, with no more company than my fellow geeks during recess and the occasional emails from other fellow geeks, but in the last couple months I have made one new friend.

I feel the need to mention so because she's coming in right now. I'm surprised she's late, but it's only by a little while and a few others have still yet to show. Unlike me, she's a social butterfly, so upon arrival she finds herself in a conversation with Rhonda, Curly still welded to her arm, and several other random somebodies. It's surprising, really. I'd have never expected to find myself in such a close friendship with such a person. She's rather excitable at times, which can be unnerving. I take another swig of my inhaler just in case I need to talk myself out of something. She likes to try to make me… do things. Which I am in no mood for tonight.

After a few minutes worth of chatting, she spots me and a grin splits her face as she makes her way over. Rhonda called for a formal event tonight so she's wearing a dress… Not much different from usual. She always looks like she's wearing a dress. I never understood that. I should probably ask sometime… Though Arnold's fascination with kilts never concerned me enough to ask. But then again I'm not particularly close to him. But—Oh, I'm rambling. Forget it.

Her dress is a simple, royal purple that goes just past her knees in a gentle, flowing fabric, and she apparently decided black tights were in order. She's wearing a small black sweater over her sleeves, so I can't see whether they're spaghetti strap or just short, and her shoes are simple black flats. Her hair looks the same as always—light brown curls and waves held back by her usual thick white headband, and two thick tendrils on either side of her face. It looks much more tended to tonight, though. More clean. She really put in an effort to look nice tonight. I can't imagine why, though. Despite Rhonda's claims, these parties are nothing special of any sort. There'll be another one next Friday, on the dot. She knows that.

As she finally makes it all the way over to my secluded shadowy corner, her mouth is open immediately, "Hey, Brainiac. I see you're being your usual social self, yes?" She smirks.

I just force a wheeze at her, hoping she'll buy that I haven't taken my medicine yet so I won't have to respond.

No such luck. "Oh, please, Brainy, you don't really think me that dim, do you? I saw you take your inhaler out as soon as I walked in," she says dryly, her English accent heavy in her sarcasm.

I still wonder sometimes why someone would come to a relatively small and unknown city like Hillwood from someplace as exciting as England. What did we have to offer that was so great that they had to move here in the middle of the school year? I really try not to question it, though. It's none of my business. Besides, Peapod Kid's parents are English, too. Plus there was that famous British fashion designer that came here years ago. So we must have something of intrigue here. I guess small places do have their charms.

And she does seem to have a fascination with small things… like me.

Sighing, I reply wearily, "I don't think you're dumb… I just…"

"Not really in much of a mood for talking?"

I look up to find that her crystally blue eyes are sympathetic and soft, and I have to blink a few times to find a response, "Well, yes." She always seems to know what's wrong. It's something I really like about her. I value silence, and I never have to say more than a few words before she understands what I'm trying to say. She can read me like a book… Or, well, she can read everyone that way. Not just me. She just catches drift of things quickly is all.

She nods in understanding and shifts so she's against the wall next to me, her posture straight. I take an unconscious step to the left to make room for her, but find myself hitting the wall on the other side of my little corner. Her voice breaks me from my slight surprise as she says, "Something wrong I can help with? Or is this just the usual 'I don't like talking and want to be creepy' thing?" She laughs quietly, mindful to keep a low profile in case I do wish to share my troubles. I don't really know if I do, though. Nonetheless, I give her a slight, amused look at her description. The joke is old between us now. We both know I'm a loner.

I just shrug slightly and sigh, knowing I owe her a response. I'm still a bit unused to all the talking. No one's ever cared to ask before. I don't know if I'm ready to talk to her about my problematic love life, though. It'd just feel… weird. After all, we have been friends for a while now, she's been to my house and I've been to hers, we've 'hung out'—how could I, after all that, bring up… Helga?

But then again… why shouldn't I? Like I said before, we have become rather close. Maybe it would do me some good to talk about it for once.

Unsurely, my eyes shift a few times before I look at her again, seeing her attentive gaze on me. Her eyes are almost piercing with their gaze, and I know it won't be long before she nudges me again, so if I'm going to do this, now would be a good time. "Okay, well… uh…" I bite the inside of my cheek, contemplating a good way to continue… Finally, I sigh and just go for it. "Astrid, have you ever been in love before?"

Her eyes go wide instantly and I find myself blinking a few times, trying to recover, as if she just lodged a knife through me. Her eyes do that. They're blue, but it's an almost sharp blue. Not like Helga's deep, rich, hypnotic blue but… just so… there. After a few moments I regain my composure and smile a tad sheepishly at her, embarrassed by my own question. She's only twelve, but she's a mature twelve. The possibility is definitely there. I'm sure at some point she's loved someone, or at least had a crush… With how bouncy and all over the place she can be sometimes, she's probably had several.

She suddenly slumps a bit against the wall and giggles oddly, her eyes closed. "Brainy, me? In love? Never! That's an absolutely ridiculous—WHOA!" Apparently she'd slumped a bit too much in her slippery shoes, because suddenly she was on the floor, one shoe half off and one of her curls resting on top of her slightly pointed nose. She blinks several times rapidly in utter shock, her lips in a thin, tight line.

My jaw drops and I instantly drop to the floor next to her, grabbing one of her arms and preparing to pull her up. She jumps at my touch though as if my hands were on fire and throws herself back, raising her voice slightly to say, "N-Now, I can get up just fine myself, thank you!" Instantly disproving that theory, she grabs onto the table cloth of one of the many tables set up about the room and pulls to try to get up, but by doing so ends up pulling half the snacks off of the table entirely and onto the floor with several crashes. Screeching, she grabs the table quickly and pulls herself up, but the mass of white cloth underneath her causes her to slip again and another snack plate to fall that had been teetering on the edge. Sitting on the floor in shock, she just stays there, scared to move again without causing further disaster.

"Uh…" is all I can utter, my mouth agape.

Astrid blinks a few times rapidly, before her voice comes in a squeak, crashing into the silence of the room, "I think I'd like that help now, please."

"Uh, right," I mutter, nervous at all the eyes on me, and move to take her hand. She flinches, probably still in shock at all that just happened, before pulling herself up with my help. Now standing, she dusts off her dress, straightens her headband, and turns to the wide-eyed room, slightly shaking. "Sorry…" Turning to Rhonda then, seeming almost like an afterthought, her expression turns ashamed as she says, "My mom will pay for the food I ruined, and the dishes. My deepest apologies."

Rhonda's response is instant, though, her eyes wide and sympathetic, though slightly haughty, "Oh, Darling, after a display as embarrassing as that? Your family's pride has been punished enough. It's fine. I'm rich, remember? I can more than cover it." She smiles in an attempt to be kind, but it just comes off as slightly smug at being able to state on record she's rich once more in her life.

Curly looks enchanted by her words, though, and comes forward to dramatically proclaim in addition to her speech, "As a new member in our medley, you are allowed a few slip-ups! Don't sweat it, babe."

Eugene rolls himself forward in his wheelchair then, his neck in a brace, laughing cheerfully. "Heck, I make at least one a day. Why, if I hadn't fallen off Arnold's roof this morning when we were doing our project on his pet pigeons, I'd have probably already done that ten minutes ago!" He grins.

Astrid merely stares at him, still shaking. After a second she forces a smile and mutters, "Thank you," before running out of the room. Eyes suddenly turning on me, I feel like a deer in headlights. Oh, crap. I've never been the center of attention before. Offering a wheezy smile, I run out of the room after her.

A/N: Next crapter on Friday. XD See y'all then.