Author's Note: i should be doing my homework but instead i wrote this. lucky for you. or not.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine except for the dumb plot.

Stebbins sat through advisory with minimal trouble. He had no interest in listening to his peers talk about their personal lives or do their forgotten homework of last night, and especially not today.

He was angry about his scarf, that was sure. That thing had cost about thirty dollars, and he'd bought it with saved money. So, naturally, he'd be upset that Barkovitch had just ripped it in two. Perhaps there was some symbolism in the fact that Barkovitch had just ripped one of his favorite possessions in half.

Meanwhile, Barkovitch had sat down in his first class early. It was just him, alone in a room with a bunch of empty desks. There was something so unnerving about empty desks. He wasn't sure what it was, it was just...it felt as though everybody had left him.

He almost laughed at himself for having such a stupid fear. Why should he care if everybody leaves? "I'm better off alone."
He could practically hear Stebbins' smug voice in his head. Maybe if you say it enough times, you'll believe it. What a laugh.
Ah, shit, was he losing his mind now? If this is what making friends is like, I sure as fuck don't want it. Or maybe it's the freak. That fucking freak's just messing with my head.

It was those goddamn empty desks. And the dark room. That's all. Barkovitch took a deep breath and tried to focus on something other than the stupid room with its stupid desks and its stupid lack of light.

As if to save him, a teacher then entered, flipping on the light switch. Barkovitch breathed a sigh of relief and said an unimportant hello to the teacher. He didn't even know whether he'd been greeted or not, it just seemed polite. Fuck politeness. Barkovitch didn't even care about school anyways.

Classes were a blur. It was just the norm, the dull monotony of learning. Or at least, having useless information shoved in his face and calling it learning.

By lunch, Barkovitch had nearly forgotten about Stebbins. He'd just avoid him, that'd work. They'd just go on living and never speak to each other again, and Barkovitch would continue being a loner and Stebbins would continue being a freak. That was just how things worked.

Barkovitch spent most of his way to lunch looking down, which usually kept away most people. A rough shove quickly brought back to reality as he found his face connecting with the ground. "What the fuck was that!"

Collie Parker glared down at him. "Just doin' what you deserve. You've been walking around with that freak Stebbins, haven't you? Yeah, I suppose I expected as much."

"Fuck you."

"Right back at ya." Parker kicked Barkovitch's side, causing him to wince. Usually, people would question how this could happen in the middle of a hallway, but the school had gotten used to things like this. There was violence, and there wasn't a lot anybody could do about it.

Barkovitch could feel his knife in the pocket of his jeans, and was going to reach for it when there was a loud uff! sound from Parker. He looked up, and the sight before him was almost comical.

Stebbins had tackled Parker, the poor weirdo didn't have any idea how to fight, and Parker had started calling Stebbins some rather creative curse words. "What the fuck, Stebbins?! That's..." He didn't bother to finish, since Parker finally got out of Stebbins' headlock and kicked him in the shins, sending him keeling over.

Stebbins didn't cry out, and Parker just looked down at him. "Alright, fucker, it's sorta sweet that you wanted to look out for your little friend, but you're literally the worst fucking fighter I've ever seen."

Stebbins appeared to have lost his breath, and was just panting loudly. Parker rolled his eyes and started to walk away.
Barkovitch got up, despite the fact that one of his legs throbbed a bit from being kicked, and walked over to Stebbins. "What the...you fucking idiot! You could've gotten both your legs broken or something! That's Collie fucking Parker!"

Stebbins still seemed to be out of breath, either that or he was just choosing to be silent. After a few minutes of tense silence between the two, he finally opened his mouth to speak. "I felt that I hadn't fully repaid you."

Barkovitch knelt down and rolled up the leg of Stebbins'-really oddly colored, he had to notice. Who the fuck wears purple pants-pants. A large spot of purple-ish black formed a bruise right below his knee. "Fuck. You were still thinking about that goddamn favor?! That's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard! You..." He trailed off. "I'll try and find some ice. C'mon, can you walk?"

"I suppose so." Barkovitch grabbed the blonde boy's arm and saw him wince.

Just then he had an idea."Hang on, hold still." Stebbins did as he was told and Barkovitch attempted to pick him up. Jesus fucking Christ, how had he ever thought that this was a good idea? Stebbins was light, but still. It probably looked pretty dumb. The guy had taken a pretty bad beating, though, and despite that he was a huge fucking idiot, Barkovitch felt sort of bad.

"You don't need to do this. I can walk, Barkovitch." Barkovitch grunted and Stebbins decided not to question it.

By the time they'd made it to the nurse's office, the amount of weird looks they'd gotten wasn't a number either of them could count, and Barkovitch felt his face reddening. Fuck, this had definitely been a bad idea. He set Stebbins down and went in to go get some ice.

The nurse was a fairly skinny woman who probably didn't have any sort of medical degree. "Do you have any ice? My...uh..." Shit. What do you call it when you're just not friends? He swallowed hard. "Friend. My friend has a pretty big bruise."

"Sure." She smiled at him and after going back into a smaller room came out with some ice. Barkovitch sighed and went back to Stebbins.

"Here's your fucking ice, freak." He leaned down and rolled up Stebbins' pant leg, pressing it against his bruised knee.

"I can do that myself, you know." Stebbins sounded slightly amused. Barkovitch turned red again. He heard someone, he suspected it was Davidson, passing by snicker at them. Shit, this probably looked pretty weird, seeing as his face was pretty close to Stebbins' crotch. He mentally cursed himself for even thinking about that.

"We're not friends," Barkovitch suddenly blurted out.

"What is this, then? Partnership?"

"Sure. Not friendship, though." Barkovitch tried very hard to just look down at the ice he was holding and not at the boy he was talking to.

"You carried me here and now you're trying to ease the pain in my leg with your own hands," Stebbins said drily.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Make me."

"Why do you always say that after I tell you to shut up?"

"It seems that you know my little speaking patterns, too." Stebbins laughed lightly and Barkovitch felt like crawling into a hole and never coming out. He was...embarrassed...by this idea that he could feel at least tolerable around someone.

"Well, I..."

"Oh, you haven't got an excuse."

Barkovitch got up. "I want lunch. I'm fucking starving. Ice your own damn leg." Stebbins followed, pressing the ice against his leg as he walked. He wondered if Barkovitch knew that he was smiling.

(cue the my little pony: friendship is magic theme)