Author's Note: I'm sorry for not updating in awhile uwu I sort of forgot about it.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Stebbins considered leaving right away and just walking away. He wondered if his mother was worrying about him at home, or if his father had left yet.
Barkovitch was glaring down at him from on top of the bed and Stebbins was honestly surprised that he hadn't told him to get the fuck out of the house yet. It seemed like a perfectly logical thing to do, he thought. Seeing as they weren't best friends or anything.
"Gary, uh, friend of Gary, you slept a bit late. You should probably be going." Barkovitch's mother came in, trying to look as welcoming as she could.
"He's not my friend," Barkovitch muttered.
"Oh, are you-"
"Fuck, no!" Barkovitch practically screeched. His cheeks had turned a dark red color.
"Language. Well, whatever he is, both of you should get some breakfast and get to school."
Barkovitch scowled at his mother and made a point of storming out of the room. Stebbins shrugged at Barkovitch's mother and followed him out of the door.
Barkovitch had grabbed an apple and was eating it messily. He was already halfway out the door, despite the fact that his hair was uncombed and he was still eating. "Shouldn't you finish eating?"
"Who the fuck cares."
Stebbins smiled at the dark-haired boy. "Aren't you in a charming mood today?"
"Fuck off." Barkovitch went out and slammed the door.
His blonde companion followed him out the door and closed it in a considerably calmer way. He fell into step beside him, still wearing that charming, annoying smile. "So, Barkovitch, if you never do your homework, then how do you get through classes?"
"Pearson from my advisoyr is smart and I have money," Barkovitch said between bites of apple.
"Cheating off someone else? Really, I would have expected better from you." Stebbins' tone was dripping with obvious sarcasm.
"Well, don't. You aren't getting anything better from me," Barkovitch growled, quickening his pace so as to get ahead of Stebbins, who caught up quickly enough.
"Oh, really, Barkovitch, why are you trying to get away from me?" Stebbins grabbed onto the other boy's arm, causing him to stumble forward.
"What was that for, you fucktard?!"
"I'm making sure I don't lose you."
"Well, get lost." Barkovitch attempted to wriggle his arm out of the other's grip. Stebbins looked like all his clothes were too big for him, he had a scarf draped around his shoulders that he hadn't noticed last night, and the scarf practically looked like a shawl. That must have meant he was pretty fucking skinny, so how was he so goddamn strong?!
"Get lost with me."
"What are you implying? I'm not even fucking sure anymore."
"As I've said many times, my words are up for interpretation." Stebbins smiled charmingly and Barkovitch gave a loud, exasperated sigh and gave up on trying to get Stebbins to let go or go away.
They walked in somewhat uncomfortable silence for awhile, Stebbins humming softly to himself. It'd come to the point where he himself didn't even quite understand what the things he said meant any more than Barkovitch. He was...happy. He knew that. Beneath his prickly, angry exterior, Barkovitch was a good guy. He'd let Stebbins sleep in his house on a moment's notice just because of the suggestion of danger, and Stebbins hadn't even had to ask.
Stebbins had to notice the fact that Barkovitch wasn't unattractive in the least. It was just a thing that people noticed, right? You judge people you don't even know as attractive or unattractive. It didn't mean anything that he was studying the bone structure of Barkovitch's face and the way his mouth twitched up into a smirk at some thought he'd had.
He was nice-looking. That was all. What with his olive skin and angry dark eyes. He was attractive in a very angry way. This was fairly normal for Stebbins, actually. He liked to pay attention to the details of a person, and that was perhaps why he had so few friends.
It wasn't as though he was in love with Barkovitch. They hadn't known each other for long. He just liked the company of another human being. Human beings, naturally, are pack animals, right?
"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" Barkovitch said, scowling.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm sort of fucking bug under a microscope. It gives me the creeps."
"I apologize."
"You know, I don't really want to be seen with you in public. No offense or anything..." Barkovitch paused. "But you probably make me even more of a goddamn target than I already am."
Stebbins took a moment to consider this. Both of them were targets, really. In a metaphorical sense, if two targets were put together, then perhaps they could deflect arrows? "But can't targets stick together?" Stebbins looked quizzically at him, trying to hide the fact that he was somewhat hurt.
"No." Barkovitch realized they were approaching the school. "Listen, you little shit. Our friendship, if you can call it that, ends now. I was too nice to you. Go read a book by yourself or something." Stebbins was about to grab him and pull him back, but Barkovitch bolted for the door, leaving Stebbins alone on the sidewalk in the cold November air.
Barkovitch slammed the door behind him, perhaps just for effect, and stormed down the hallway to his locker. He made a point of not looking at anything other than the ground, perhaps out of embarrassment.
That wasn't a bad thing he had done, was it? He was protecting Stebbins, in a way. Hanging around people like him made you immediately a reject. And it was the same vice versa. Stebbins was the weird kid, the one who would probably end up in an asylum by the time he was twenty. Barkovitch was the antisocial one who'd never get married and end up as an accountant.
It was better to have no friends at all than one that would make you even more of a target. After all, he'd gotten on just fine without friends since he was five. The only person he could've even considered a friend was a boy named Hamish who'd hung out with him twice when he was seven.
Wow, that is pretty fucking sad. Barkovitch pushed his locker shut, making it give off a loud, metallic sound.
"Barkovitch?"
"Fuck off."
"Care to walk to advisory with me, Barkovitch?" He was almost completely convinced that it was some slightly confused girl who was afraid of getting beaten up. He turned around to see Stebbins leaning against his locker, smiling in that dumb, condescending way.
"I told you, I'm not going anywhere with you." He started down the hallway, but Stebbins jogged after him, smiling all the while. "Please fuck off, Stebbins."
"I'm sorry, but no."
"Why?"
"Because I'm returning a favor you did for me."
"What?" Barkovitch glanced irritably back at him.
"You need someone, Barkovitch. You won't admit it, but you let me stay the night because you wanted, for once, for somebody to voluntarily be with you. All of your whole, sick life, all you've really wanted is friends. And you don't know how best to make them, so you pretend you don't want them."
Barkovitch grabbed Stebbins by the stupid, purple scarf that was around his neck and slammed him against the wall. "You shut your fucking mouth, freak!"
Stebbins' voice was breathless and hoarse from the impact, but his face twisted into a smirk. "You don't want to admit that I'm right, do you?"
Barkovitch's face was so close to Stebbins' that he could feel Barkovitch's breath on his skin. "Alright, listen up. You and I aren't friends. Fuck, we aren't even companions or anything. Leave. Me. Alone."
Barkovitch dropped Stebbins, and then realized that he was holding part of Stebbins' scarf in his hand. He'd ripped it. The two boys stared at each other for a few minutes. Stebbins glared up at him, then brushed himself off and promptly got up. He took a look at his ruined scarf, then flashed Barkovitch a smile and walked off.
What the fuck was wrong with that boy, Barkovitch thought. He could hear his voice in his head, repeating that sentence about his whole, sick, friendless life. Maybe Stebbins was right. Maybe the reason he'd hated what he said was because he was right.
No, that was wrong. He was Gary Barkovitch and he didn't need anyone.
ah, I enjoyed writing this chapter.