A/N: Okay, really super quick note before I'm late to psychologyyyy. Here's chapter one... Same warnings as before apply. That's it rly... Toodles~

Sunday night is great. I have this really fucking weird bedtime routine, especially for Sunday night.

I put off everything that has to be ready for Monday. That's shit like homework, things I've borrowed that I gotta find somewhere to give back, you get the picture.

Then I start putting off actually going to bed. I don't get undressed. I don't brush my teeth. I don't really do anything other than sit around my room, thinking of ways to put off sleep.

I go and wash my hands about ten times.

No, seriously.

I take whatever pills are left over from the weekend. This keeps me up for another five hours, mostly. It also causes me to wash my hands another ten times, coz man, when you're this high, the handwash smells even cooler!

I fall asleep about 3 hours before I'm supposed to be up for school. I oversleep. Every single time.

This particular Monday morning, I woke up at about 12. I walked into school, three hours late, at a leisurely pace.

I was going to sit next to Kyle and Stan upon entering the lunch hall. But unfortunately for me, they fell silent and gave me that "you're intruding" look. So I just scooted over and found myself a seat by Clyde.

I listened to them talking about a movie I hadn't seen yet. I waited for the bell to ring. I had English once lunch was over.

Stan caught up with me on my way to my class. "Why bother coming in at all if you're gonna leave it so late?" Stan always asks me dumb questions like this on Monday afternoon when I bring my sorry ass in. I always give him a stupid answer like:

"I wanted to see your sexy self, obviously. You know I can't bear to be parted from you."

"Oh, well other than that, of course." I take my seat, and at this point Stan might talk to me about stuff I don't remember from the weekend, or ask me about what he missed this weekend when he was too busy getting some. He doesn't appreciate that observation too much, which makes me wonder if Wendy isn't all that.

Or maybe it's Stan.

Or maybe I just can't help but pick them apart. Partly because Kyle bitches to me about everything that's wrong with Wendy. Partly because there's a part of me that bitches about everything that's wrong with Stan.

It's just a cycle of petty jealousy. This sort of domino effect only happens though, when your favourite person doesn't hold you in the same respect.

That's a pretty awesome theory, I think. Maybe I could do social experiments or some shit.

*

Everyone's at Stan's place after school. That's coz we're "studying".

It just so happens that Stan's got a new game that we all want to play, on the day we were gonna have a study day.

Stan's Mom isn't stupid enough to believe something like that, so it's kind of lucky for Stan that she's not supposed to be home til late. He acts cool like it all just sort of worked out on accident. I doubt it. But that's the sort of stuff I keep to myself, so I don't sound like a complete ass.

I think that if people could read my thoughts, they'd think I didn't actually like Stan. Y'know coz of the whole petty jealous theory. But it's not that. I mean, I get along with him fine. I just think like I hate him sometimes, even though I don't.

I'm thinking about that right when he's asking me a question.

"Hello?"

I blinked a couple times. Am I back on Earth now? "Shit, yea? Sorry, I was like..."

"Yea, somewhere else." He laughed a bit, the way he always does when I get caught off guard by someone intruding my thinking space. "I was asking if you wanted a drink." I told him orange juice.

I sort of drifted in and out of focus for the rest of the night. Maybe you'd get a response. Maybe not.

I noticed that Kyle kept giving me this weird look. Kinda nervous. Like he was trying to act normal, but wasn't very good at it. I don't know what his problem was.

I was cool. I was great. I was fantastic, thank you very much. But seriously, staring at me like that kinda puts me on edge.

It was pretty late. I should start walking home. "I'll walk with you." I turned to Kyle, who was already getting his stuff together. I shrugged and waited for him.

I walked to the end of Stan's street with him. He stayed quiet, like he was expecting something. "Why did you stop?" He asked me.

"Because, dude. You live in the opposite direction to me." I waited for him to respond. He almost didn't get it for a second, before quickly answering:

"Oh, yea, I know. I just meant like... I'd walk with you to here." He looks a little bit frustrated with himself at this point. I shot him a small smile.

"Are you okay?" He thought about it for a second, shrugged and answered.

"Yea. I'm fine, I guess. Are you?"

"Yea." No. No, I'm not, coz you won't just admit that you want to know why I got all gay on your ass. He smiled back at me. I waved a little, shoved my hands in my pockets, and left.

I got over it.

But everytime I brought it up again in my head, I'd start feeling all pissed off and hard done by. Why couldn't he just ask anyway? How come I had to bring it up? I'm not bringing it up! He can talk to me about it.

I became increasingly aware that these thought processes weren't really helping anything. Wanting Kyle to bring it up first was a stupid idea, considering that I was the one going crazy about it. But I just couldn't bring myself to say something. Maybe it was pride. But mostly, it was the overwhelming instinct that told me he'd probably just shrug it off.

So what now? Plan B, I guess. I hadn't even considered a Plan B up until this point.