"We give you rare privileges and yet you act like an animal."

"Yep."

"We offered you kindness and you respond with this behavior."

"What was I supposed to do?!" Mike yelled loudly to the Harvard professor. The students surrounding the four boys-the two bullies, the Fitzgerald guy, and Mike-looked on, waiting for something dramatic to happen. Mike wasn't paying attention to anyone but the old man in front of him, though. "You know very well how I react to this behavior! You can't sit there and lecture me about behaving like an animal when these stupid creatures were hurting this poor guy! That student did nothing to aggravate them, and they treat him like dirt. So yeah, I put them in their place. If you expect better behavior from me, I expect better behavior from your students."

"Michael Schmidt!" A female professor barked.

"That's my name!" Mike yelled back at her.

"I don't want you putting another step on campus." The old professor ordered.

"All the better! I don't want to look at those two jerks." Mike shot a glare at the bullies and they cringed, massaging their bruises and breaks. Mike then directed the look to the Fitzgerald guy, who was standing just behind him, eyes wide, as if he didn't know what to say.

"They bother you again, let me know."

The guy nodded slightly. He looked suspicious and relieved at the same time. "O-okay."

Mike stormed off campus, mourning the only place he'd ever looked forward to.

Mike kicked the dresser when he walked into his apartment. The glass cup that was standing upon it toppled and fell to the ground with a loud shatter. He didn't even flinch; Wouldn't be the first time he replaced that cup. But it wasn't rue that caused his actions this time; it was frustration.

Now where was he going to get food? He couldn't exactly ask the neighbors for cup of sugar when he wanted it; instead he'd get a beating or some other form of unpleasant harassment. He was kicked off the campus and he couldn't afford a grocery list... Mike bit back a shout of stress, trying not to think about how much worse his life was sucking. How on earth could someone's life suck so much?

Because it's mine.

At least that Fitzgerald guy knew that Mike was on his side. For now. If this all turned out against his favor he himself would beat that kid up. He just cost Mike his food for the rest of the year.

He stumbled into his closet of a room and flopped onto his bed. It was the middle of the afternoon, but his apartment didn't have windows so it wasn't as if sunlight would keep him awake anyway. His stress and that fight wore him out.

He stared at the wall of the dark room, trying to clear his mind, but if there was anything Mike was bad at above everything else, it was forgetting.

He returned to Freddy's at twelve on the dot, not keen on conversing with other employees. Everyone was gone when he arrived; it was one of the first nights he showed up at the restaurant without Amy still there to talk to him. Thinking about her made his heart hurt.

He turned on the light and nearly jumped out of his skin seeing Freddy almost two inches away from him.

"Hi, Mike!" He greeted. "Didn't think you'd come to work!"

Mike wasn't in the mood for Freddy's excitement. He pushed Freddy back a few paces, muttering something about personal space. "How else am I going to get paid?"

"Guess you're right." Freddy shrugged. This was also the first night Freddy wasn't stalking him constantly, trying to murder him. The sudden change was just plain weird. Mike didn't think it was just his depression that was stopping them from tearing him apart; However, he said nothing about this concern. After all, he wasn't complaining.

"What do you guys do for fun around here?" Mike asked, scanning the dull interior of the closed pizzeria. Without people to run the place, there really wasn't much to do. Mike pointed this out to Freddy, and was surprised by the sly look on his face.

"But you forget," He giggled. "We do run the place. Up for some arcade games?"

While participating in a Pac-Man contest against Bonnie, Mike told Chica what had happened at the Harvard College. It wasn't as if he wanted to tell her in the first place, but Chica had this way of getting what she wanted when she wanted it. She listened intently when he explained his emotions and the outcome of his actions.

"Getting easily aggravated is normal for depression, but it does serve as a problem," Chica agreed. "The best you can do is apologize to that professor, but I understand if you're not willing to return. Just remember that employees eat free here. There's one problem solved."

"Great. Thanks for that; I wouldn't have been able to afford anything else."

"As for that guy you defended? There's not one person in the world who doesn't deserve to be protected. You did the right thing."

"Thanks." Mike replied. Deep down, that didn't feel entirely true. Not in the student's case, but his own. He hid this thought behind a smile to Chica in the hopes she wouldn't bring it up again. She didn't. Instead, she brought up something worse.

"How about Amy? Have you had any contact with her since, well, it happened?"

"No. Definitely not."

"It wouldn't be the best idea to avoid her the rest of your life, you know. The best way to heal is to understand the person who hurt you. Some time and distance from her might help with the pain but you can't stay away from her forever."

"Yes I can."

"Mike..." She sighed, but said nothing more.