I don't understand why he never smiles. Well, he does smile but its never because he's happy. He always smirks arrogantly because he's made Stan look like an idiot or he's used his charm to manipulate someone to do what he wants but never because he's happy. He's just so narcissistic.

I absentmindedly twirl the end of my pencil in my mouth, muling over these questions in my head.
"Tweek! Are you paying attention?!".
Mr garrison slams his hands down on his desk, glaring at me over the top of his glasses. I take my pencil out of my mouth and grumble my words lazily "yeah, yeah. Macbeth seeing the ghost of Duncan was a sign of his subconscious showing guilt".
Finally making eye contact with him, I could see his face form into a scowl. "This is maths class! Not literature!"".
I few other students snickered but I shrugged it off and decided to reside back to my thoughts. My paranoia and anxieties have improved a lot after I cut back on my caffeine intake two years ago so these days I'm pretty laid back. Not many things bother me that much anymore...with the exception of him. Why doesn't he ever fucking smile? It could be any number of things, how Wendy treated him, his only friend moved back to France, maybe something happened outside of his social life. I couldn't imagine it being something wrong at home, his parents are quite wealthy and he's an only child so they spoil him. The bell finally rings for the end of class and I flinch, startled. Gathering my books I quickly leave for my next class, luckily I left quick enough before garrison called me back

I swapped my maths book for my sketch book in my locker, I smile to myself, knowing I got art class next. I like art, I can think clearly in art. Looking up the hallway towards my next class, there's not many people crowed in the corridor so I don't have to walk a different way to art. Being short I kinda have to avoid large crowds otherwise I'll get trampled.
Strolling up to art, happy that I walk somewhere without getting pushed or stood on, out the corner of my eye I can see Gregory glancing around before leaving through the fire exit. I bite my tongue, debating whether to follow him or forget it and go to art. Rolling my eyes and sighing, I shove my books in my bag and leave out the fire exit too.

The cold air hits me hard and I breathe in sharply only to confronted with the strong smell of smoke. Shutting the door behind me, I swivel my head to see Gregory sat on concrete steps leading from the porch of the fire exit to the soft snow on the ground. Only now do I notice the cigarette in his hand and the suspicious looking flask of tea on the step next to him. He lifts the cigarette to his pale lips and takes another drag, I'm confronted by the harsh smoke again as he exhales and the grey cloud passes through his lips. Either he hasn't noticed me standing behind him(which is plausible considering my height) or he doesn't care. Its most likely the latter. I take my own cigarette from my pocket and rest it between my lips, sitting down beside him. I can feel his ice cold glare burning through the side of my head. Another question I have yet to answer runs through my mind, why does he purposely isolate himself from everyone?
I turn my head to meet his gaze, taking my cigarette away from my lips "do you have a lighter?".
I raise an eyebrow, hoping he's not going to ignore me. Just as I conclude he's not going to respond. He does, bringing the cigarette to his lips once again "yes".

He turns his head away from me and continues to gaze across the icy football field. I wait for him to pass me a lighter but realise he's being a sarcastic asshole. Sucking my teeth in annoyance, I stand to leave but to my surprise I'm pulled back down. I can feel his tight grip on my arm as he forces a silver lighter into my hand. "I was kidding, Tweek. There was no need to be so cold about it.".
I light my cigarette and pass the lighter back, snorting "that's ironic coming from you".
Absent of all emotion, he raises his head a little. I'm guessing he's agreeing with me...I think..
"I never thought you were the type to skip class".
I watch him put his cigarette out in the snow as I wait for a response that I probably won't get. "You never struck me as the type to skip class either".
He doesn't even look in my direction, just stares across the pitch and lifts that suspicious flask to his mouth. I know it's tea but it can't be just tea. Whatever it is, it smells strong.
He must of caught me watching him because he passes the flask to me, a little less hostile than he did with the lighter. "What's in here?".

I lift it to my face a smell it, which kind of answered my question. It smells strongly of whiskey.
This time he actually looks at me as he speaks.
"Jack Daniels whiskey".
I remove the burnt out cigarette from my lips and flick it into the snow before taking a sip, then a drink of it.
"Don't drink all of it, pint size!"
He barks, snatching it back. Guess we're back to the hostility.
A smirk forms across my face as a snicker to myself "did you just call me pint size?".
He sips the tea and whiskey, not dignifying me with a response. I glance at the time on my phone, half of the lesson has passed. Deciding I better show up for the last thirty minutes of art class, I stood up to leave. "Well, it was nice having a smoke with you, Gregory".
He looks up to me "I guess so..".

I glance back one last time before going back inside, since its near the end of the day, the sky has turned a various amount of shades of blue and orange. Casting shadows across the far field. His ice blue eyes meet my green ones, the light had cast over his face too. Illuminating his high cheek bones and sharp features. I can't help but smile, he looked quite handsome. He never smiled back at me though.