"In portraiture, getting a decent sketch down first is vital".

The flamboyant man at the front of the class demonstrated his statement by drawing out a circle with a cross through it on the white board. He carried on talking about basic stuff I already knew so I found myself spacing out as I lazily sketched out the beginning of a face like the teacher requested. Glancing around, every other student was bored as well. I scoffed, that's substitute teachers for you.

He spent so long on getting the right shape and sketching the cross in the right place. At least I can go home after this. Yawning, without thinking I sketched out facial features. Narrow, sharp eyes. Strong jawline. Neatly gelled back hair. High cheekbones. Pale lips. The portrait wasn't smiling.

I knew exactly who I sketched in my book. Inwardly I cringed at my creepy clique-ness. The sound of the bell rang in my ears and I slammed my book shut, mildly disgusted with myself.

Walking out, shoving my sketchbook into my bag and putting my headphones in, I put the portrait to the back on my mind. Its not that I hate him or anything. I just hate drawing people I know, it makes me feel like a stalker.

I spent the rest of the night playing video games and listening to music, not thinking about the portrait again.

The following morning I went through my usual routine, get up, dress myself, breakfast, teeth, hair and walk to school with Clyde. As I walked with him he must of noticed how I wasn't as talkative and sarcastic today since he questioned my wellbeing, "Is there something up, Tweek?".

I shifted my eyes to look at him, he had his usual stylishly messy brown locks and cheeky grin. There's no wonder why he's a well known ladies man at south park high. "Its nothing".

"Dude, I've known you for about fourteen years. I know when something's up".

I shrugged, knowing I've been rumbled. "You know that Gregory guy?".

He frowned a little and nodded. "Yeah, he used to be a mercenary with that Chris kid".

Thinking for a minute about my next words, I scuffed my feet in the snow and huffed "he never smiles, I need to know why".

Clyde chuckled and shook his head "I know that you've always wanted to be a detective but this is a bit far. Yes he never smiles but who cares? He's a stuck up asshole. If there was something seriously wrong he would do something about it, he's a smart guy".

I scowled at the ground, he's one hundred percent right but I just really want to know why. "Clyde, I can't explain. I just need to know. I fucking have to know. I don't know why but I do".

He rolled his eyes at me "even if you do find out, what will you do. Help him?".

The brunette paused for a moment and them started to grin that cheeky grin. "Oh my god. You're into him!".

I turned to him, frowning at his stupid goofy expression. "What?!".

Clyde laughed loudly " You so like him! Don't look so discouraged I'm sure he likes you too, cutie Tweeky".

He tussled my hair playfully "oh Tweeky. You two would be soooo cute together. You so want his D".

I scowled harder, barking at him "shut up, Clyde!. I don't like him!".

For no apparent reason I recalled smoking outside the fire escape with him yesterday. It was the first time we've talked in a while but its not like we was friends before anyway. Its just as I left...

My thoughts were interrupted by Clyde. "Suuree you don't, Tweek".

I scoffed and realised I was blushing lightly.

"You're not going to get anywhere though, he doesn't like to interact with other people. You'd need a reason to talk to him".

I frowned again, Clyde has certainly changed his tune. As we approached the school he turned to me and winked "I'll look into it for you, Tweeky".

I can help but wonder what he's scheming.

The first two lessons passed as they have been for the past three weeks, mulling over the same set of questions in my head. By third lesson I grew tired of my questions and decided that Clyde was right, I should actually do something.

As Mr garrison carried on with what he was teaching yesterday, I racked my brain for any ideas on what I could possibly do but I didn't have to think about it for long. Clyde, who was sat behind me, jabbed me in the back. "Hey Tweek'.

I turned to face him. Garrison was now talking about all his ex boyfriends so he's too distracted to notice us talking at the back. "What is it Clyde?".

He grinned at me once again and chuckled "I have your solution, milady".

Exhaling hard, I ignored his idiocy and furrowed my brow "what are you talking about?".

Smirking, he handed me a small black book with a fake silver lock on it. "What is this?".

I looked up to meet his gaze. "What do you think? You have a reason to talk to him now. Just go to his house after school and say he dropped his notebook and you picked it up".

My eyes widened "Clyde. You stole his book?".

He shrugged with his usual cheeky grin "yep. Kind of five finger discounts, right here".

I shook my head "he's going to know it was you. He'll come for you".

"Shut up, no he won't". He furrowed his brow, pulling an overly dramatic face and sniffing as if he's about to cry "Just. Just go get your man."

He flung a hand to his head dramatically, resting the back of it against his forehead. I smirked and grumbled at his goofiness, Clyde always knew how to make me laugh.

"Alright. Alright. I'll do it."

Glancing around the room, Garrison was still gossiping about men but on a couple of desks across, Gregory looked up. Looking at me first, then at his notebook in my hand. Fuck. I considered running but that wouldn't be a smart idea so I turned back to the maths questions in front of me and ignored him. Which was quite tricky with those ice blue eyes burning into the side of my head.

As soon as the bell rang for lunch, I was gone. There was no point staying in school so I went home, my parents would be at work so I'd have the house to myself. I'll give him the book back later when I knew he'd be home, hopefully he hasn't figured out what's going on. Hopefully.

I procrastinated for a while, sipping coffee and daydreaming, mostly about what could be in the notebook. I don't really want to invade his privacy but it may give me an insight to solving the case. Solving my questions, I correct my thoughts. Sometimes I forget that I'm not a detective, I get so carried away with pretending that I am. The book is probably just what I'd typically expect to find, notes from lessons, important dates and knowing him, it's probably incredibly neat. I roll off my couch, reaching for the notebook on the coffee table. Flicking it open, I discover that I was right. It had notes for lessons, Christophe's new phone number, dates of exams. Typical. A straight A student's notebook.

Out of boredom, I flipped to the back of the book hopping to find some more personal notes, his thoughts, that kind of thing but to my surprise I found lyrics to a song. Its was only a few lines but I knew the song so it was easy to narrow it down to Map of the problematique by Muse. The words are dark, as if he wrote over them a good few times until the ink bled through the other side of the page.

Loneliness be over

When will this loneliness be over

Life will flash before my eyes

So scattered and lost

I want to touch the other side

And no one thinks they are to blame

Why can't we see

That when we bleed we bleed the same