It was all a blur, but Francis Bonnefoy saw star football player Alfred F. Jones get raped.

Yet he didn't do anything to help.

In an alleyway, behind apartments. It was a quicker way to get to your home.

Francis himself was walking home,and he saw Alfred dart behind the buildings. Curiosity spiked, Francis followed him. Alfred didn't act shifty or anything, but he still was worried.

That's when a body jumped onto Alfred. Clothes ripped and Alfred's backpack was slung across into a trashcan.

What could he do? He simply ran away when it finished up, and guilt filled him up. He should of done something.

Something.

Something.

Something.

SOMETHING.

2 weeks later-

Alfred didn't go to school for two weeks. Francis at first worried if Alfred was sick, or truly hurt, but when Alfred came back he was chipper. Happy. Joyful.

Francis watched Alfred across the cafeteria laugh loudly as he took a swig of his coke. However, Francis noticed a long cut across his cheek. Francis for a moment thought he imagined it.

Someone nudged Francis and he turned and saw Antonio, a boy who was his "friend", look at him worried.

Francis didn't have friends. Nobody liked him. Phrases like fag, or any other slurs were thrown at him daily. The only two people that bothered to talk to him was a popular spainyard named Antonio and his best friend Gilbert, and a shy boy who was barely noticed named Matthew.

"Are you...okay?" He asked. Antonio had a real strong Spanish accent. He recently moved from Spain last year, actually. Sometimes his English lacked.

Francis rested his cheek in his calm, looking at Alfred out of the corner of his eye, and then looked at Antonio, and nodded. "Yes. Thank you for worrying though, Mon Cheri."

Antonio looked at Alfred and said, "You looked at Alfred," he observed. "Weird how he was missing for two weeks, and then came back, no explanation and joyful as ever, huh?"

Guilt washed over Francis and covered his face up, suddenly feeling sick the image of what happened two weeks ago playing in his brain like a movie. He moaned.

"Are you sure? You don't look well." Antonio rubbed Francis' back. Even though they weren't close friends, he was caring.

Francis ran a hand through his long blonde hair and nodded. "Of course," he took Antonio's off his back. "Just...remembering something."

Before Antonio replied, an annoyed Italian named Lovino Vargas stomped up behind Antonio and flicked the back of his head. Antonio turned around and started happily chatting to Lovino, completely forgetting about Francis.

"Bastardo, I am out of lunch money and I am hungry. Give me food!" Demanded Lovino. Antonio nodded happily and gave Lovino the rest of his sandwich.

Lovino was about to eat his sandwich when he noticed Francis. "Oi, what's the French bastard here for? Shoo!" He waved Francis off, and went to eating.

Francis glared sharply at Lovino, but sighed and grabbed his bag and slumped out of the cafeteria.

However, as he left he noticed Alfred wasn't eating hamburgers. Just sipping at his coke.

Alfred must've noticed his stares because he stared right back at Francis, eyebrows raising as if saying, "Who are YOU staring at?"

Francis shook his head and left the cafeteria and walked down the empty hallway silently and slipped in the girl's bathroom.

The girls liked him. The popular girls didn't pick on him, unlike the guys. They loved to do his hair, apply makeup, and put him in dresses.

100% was Francis a boy, but he absolutely loved dressing up as a girl, and sometimes felt like a girl, but he was mentally and physically a boy.

Michelle, a tan skinned girl from Seychelles was washing her hands but stopped when she saw Francis. She smiled broadly at him. "Hey Francis!" She greeted and dried her hands off.

"Bonjour," he greeted with a soft smile and leaned against the wall and took a cigarette out of his bag. A habit he picked up on in middle school.

Middle School, 7th grade to be specific, was when he started to get bullied. He had no coping mechanism, and he wasn't going to be whiny and slice his flesh open.

Others did that enough to him already.

So he picked up a pack of cigars from a random kid at his school, and that's what started the habit.

Michelle grimaced. "Why must you insist on smoking?" She complained and slung her bag over her shoulders. "I'm going to skip school. Come with?"

In school, Michelle was a sweetheart cheerleader, but outside she had piercings and she actually had tattoos that were covered up with makeup in school.

Francis put the cigarette out and flushed it down a toilet. "Sure," he answered and followed Michelle out the backdoor.

Teachers pretty much...what do you call it? Sucked? Yes, sucked, at the school.

They walked into the courtyard and they stared at all the flowers and shrubs.

The courtyard was their home away from home.

Michelle flopped down on a bench and Francis sat down beside her.