This is kind of just a filler chapter to pass some time and give you some insight into Firkle's home life. Also it's really short but there will be more Ike in the next chapter don't worry and it will be much longer! (Half way written and its already longer than this chapter)

I only briefly scanned through this so I do apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes.

I'm going to try get as much of this fic done as possible before I add to UE&R, I've already written some for it and just need to type it up as I said so hopefully it won't be too long.

Once again sorry for the long note!

The drive home was awkward to say the least. Michael was visibly fuming over Henrietta and Pete made it worse by bringing it up when he got in the car. Firkle almost thought Michael was going to make Pete walk home when he saw the glare he shot in his direction.

A heavy silence preceded that which only got heavier when they arrived at Pete's and he left Firkle alone, luckily he wasn't killed before they made it to his house. He didn't bother saying thank you when he got out.

Firkle was half-way up the stairs when he heard the honey coated voice of his mother. "Firkle sweetie, is that you? How was school today?" she called from the kitchen. Firkle groaned and halted his ascent.

"It was fine mum!" he called back monotonously as he did every day.

"Oh good, I hope you didn't talk back to any of your teachers!" she replied sarcastically, as she did every day.

He rolled his eyes and smiled, "Nope, everything was fine mum!" he lied, continuing his path to his room, knowing the conversation would end there like it always did.

Entering his room, he put his bag precisely in it's place on the shelf within his closet, then took off his shoes and lined them up beside the rest which were neatly beneath the shelf.

Finally, he collapsed exhausted on his bed and leaned against the headboard as he dragged his laptop onto his lap.

Haven't played in a while…

After typing in his password he opened a folder he had concealed and examined its contents.

Guess I'll play Call Of Duty for now

He opened the game and exhaled as it loaded, releasing some stress that had built from the week. He kept his games hidden because Michael once called him a conformist for playing them. Since then, regardless of whether he was serious or not at the time, Firkle kept it a secret that he still played.

An hour later Firkle was sitting upright focusing intently on the screen, "Ugh fuck!" he groaned as he was killed again by the same player. "How the fuck are they so good?!" he complained.

He was normally great at this game, he always finished in the top three and more often than not came first. But today he wasn't even in the top five.

It's like every time I revive they're right fucking there, waiting to kill me! I don't even get chance to kill anyone!

He began chewing his lip when he found the person who kept killing him and started following them, waiting for the perfect moment to shoot.

A grin was slowly spreading across his features, "Got you…" he mumbled as he aimed his gun. Suddenly his bedroom door opened, "Hey Firkle-" he slammed his laptop shut and turned to shoot daggers at the intruder. Henrietta stood there looking partially shocked and confused, "Er sorry were you about to jack off or something?" she asked with a laugh.

Firkle rolled his eyes at her crudeness, "No I wasn't going to fucking 'jack off' now what do you want?" he bit rudely, highly annoyed that he didn't get to kill his new nemesis.

Henrietta scoffed and raised her eyebrows as she put her hands on her hips, "Is that how you speak to me Firkle?" she scolded before walking over to him.

He sighed, "Sorry, I was… playing a game and someone annoyed me…" he mumbled as an apology.

Fucking prick I'll get him next time.

"Ok you're forgiven" she decided, taking a seat at the foot of his bed, "And to answer your question, I'm just here to talk", Firkle rose an eyebrow as he suspicious behaviour. "So what were you doing at lunch?" she asked casually.

Firkle put his laptop on his bedside table, "I really did go for a piss" he stated, Henrietta continued to stare at him expectantly so he sighed, "Afterwards, the weird kid I was telling you about came in and wouldn't shut up trying to talk to me" he explained with a shrug.

"Oh so you left to go hang out with him? What, are you like friends now or something?" she laughed causing Firkle to glare at her.

"We're not fucking friends he's just a conformist stalker freak" he defended, "He followed me into the bathroom, the fucker", he then remembered what occurred in the bathroom and willed his cheeks not to colour. "Anyway, what did Raven want?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

Henrietta wanted to hear more about what happened in the bathroom but the tell-tale signs of a blush gave her the information she needed. "He was just asking for advice on something. It was pretty boring actually" she said nonchalantly, Firkle nodded in understanding. "So what are you doing tonight?" she asked while examining the nails she painted earlier to make sure he hadn't ruined the polish.

Firkle shrugged, "Nothing planned, probably just music, gaming, drawing, writing, the usual" he said. Henrietta was the only one who knew about his gaming hobby, she was the one he trusted most in the group, probably because Pete and Michael got bored a lot and amused themselves by picking on him.

Henrietta hummed in response, "I'd invite you over again but I'm babysitting Brad tonight" Firkle stuck his tongue out in disgust, "Yeah I figured that would be you reaction" she chuckled. The reason Firkle didn't particularly like hanging out when she had to babysit was because she was too nice, she always invited him to watch films with them so he wasn't alone.

"I'm pretty tired today anyway" He said as Henrietta stood and got ready to go.

"I'll leave you to your game then, kick the shit out of that guy who annoyed you" she giggled as she left.

Firkle smiled and grabbed his laptop, "I'll get you this time fucker".

It was around 1am now and Firkle was sitting cross legged on his bed with a notebook in his lap writing poetry. He'd got changed into something more comfortable that he wouldn't be caught dead wearing outside, he had on a blue vest and some plain black joggers. The vibration of his phone pulled his focus away from his writing.

Bitch: Everyone's coming to mine tomorrow night, you in? Xxx

A smile spread across Firkle's face, obviously he would go.

You: Alcohol?

Bitch: Maybe, but you don't have to drink, just ignore those dicks xxx

Firkle didn't mind drinking, it was usually really fun, the problem was that he never knew how much was too much and he usually made a fool of himself somehow because he got drunk. When he didn't drink Pete and Michael usually called him a pussy or something similar.

You: Of course I'll come, it isn't even a question

Bitch: Sweet, I'll tell Michael to pick you up on his way over :) xxx

Firkle plugged his phone in and put it on his bedside table.

He wrote poetry till he fell asleep.