Rowley didn't actually see it happen, but in middle school news got around. He'd been walking down the hall between classes when he heard a commotion. Kids yelling, lockers slamming, and the sound of someone running away. Normally he'd have met up with Greg and they'd walk together, but his friend said he was trying to climb the popularity list and being seen with Rowley 'in excess' wasn't a good idea.
He was kinda morbidly curious about the whole commotion, so he rushed to Chirag who was standing worriedly by his locker. "What's going on?"
Chirag looked at him apprehensively, like he really didn't want to explain. He acted like he didn't want to gossip on account of everyone spreading the rumor he was invisible that one time, but Rowley knew he couldn't resist. "Those eighth graders just beat up Greg Heffley!"
Rowley reeled back, mouth agape. "Beat him up?"
Chirag tsked, backtracking. "Well, shoved him up against a locker, but they may as well have beat him up! Mr. Beardo had to pull that guy off of him!"
Their social studies teacher did look to be scolding a group of huge kids. As in, geez Louise, these guys should've been in their junior year of college by now. They rolled their eyes at the teacher, clearly learning nothing from whatever punishment they were being given. Mr. Beardo gestured with his right hand, and hold on- was his other hand holding—?
There was no mistaking it. The brightly-colored notebook was Greg's diary. Uh, journal. Clearly those giants must have taken it from him. His friend was already kinda touchy about the journal, especially since his mom only bought him ones that said 'DIARY' on them in all caps. He always kept it well-hidden in his backpack, though, so nothing like this had ever happened before.
Rowley kinda felt guilty about the whole thing. Maybe if he'd been with his friend during passing period they might've thought twice about pulling something like that. Probably not, considering the main guy looked like he used a lawn mower to shave in the morning, but Rowley's dad said he was blossoming into a very strong young man. And Greg honestly looked like he weighed sixty-five pounds soaking wet, though he'd never say so. Both because they were best friends and Greg might break his arm again if he did.
Rowley approached Mr. Beardo tentatively, hoping to stay unnoticed by the eighth graders. The man paused his scolding as he was tapped on the shoulder politely. "What is it, Jefferson?"
Luckily for him, teachers generally liked Rowley. He was punctual to class and always tried his best to answer questions, which put him head and shoulders above the rest of his peers who didn't even pay attention. Greg on the other hand had to deal with most of his teachers having known Rodrick before, and that was not exactly a good first impression. Also, they didn't really get his unique sense of humor.
"Excuse me, sir, but that book belongs to my friend, Greg." He began. Everyone already knew they were friends; they did everything together, but since they didn't have the same social studies period he wasn't sure if this teacher knew.
At the break in being yelled at, the eighth graders mumbled something to each other, chuckling. Rowley continued. "Could I please give it back to him?"
Mr. Beardo seemed like he didn't care what happened, as long as everything was taken care of. He handed over the book immediately. That made sense to Rowley; teachers complained a lot about not being paid enough to care.
He took the book and turned to walk away when the biggest kid yelled after him in a mocking tone. "Please, sir, can I give my sissy friend his diary back?"
A few people in the hallway snickered, and Rowley decided to just ignore it. He needed to find Greg, anyway, and passing period was almost over. It seemed like he'd run down the east hallway, so Rowley followed in the general direction. Unfortunately, he hadn't left a trail of any sort for him to follow. He checked all the classrooms along the way, but once he reached the end of the hallway it was clear his friend must've run into the bathroom.
Rowley pushed the door open timidly and his suspicions were confirmed. But when he saw his friend he wished he was wrong. Greg stood bracing himself with his hands against the sink, and he was breathing really quickly. His eyes were screwed shut and it didn't look like he'd noticed the door opening.
Luckily, absolutely nobody used the second floor bathrooms on account of none of the stalls having doors. Still, though, someone could come in at any moment, and besides that, Greg was really worrying him. He looked like he was shaking. Rowley had only ever seen people breathe like that after, like, running a relay in gym. Or on one of those soap operas where everyone is dying all the time.
"Uh, Greg?" He called out.
Greg jolted up, looking at Rowley through the mirror. "Rowl…ey? What are… you…?"
Rowley gulped. "Greg, hey, uh. Are you okay?"
Greg scowled at him, and his breathing sounded more like wheezing now. Rowley decided he had to risk getting another broken arm, or losing all his Good Boy Points, or whatever his friend would do to him for 'being emotional.'
He had to make sure Greg wasn't having, like, an asthma attack or something. He was 99% sure he didn't have asthma, because Greg always seemed jealous when someone got out of gym class for having it, but maybe it was something you could develop later in life.
"Uh, buddy?" He approached the other cautiously. "Can you, like, breathe?"
Greg still looked annoyed at him, as if the question was an insult. But he gulped down a few relatively deep breaths and responded. "Don't be an… idiot, Rowley."
Well, that sounded more like his friend. Hopefully that meant he'd be okay. Rowley closed the distance between them, holding out the book. "...Okay. I, uh, I got your journal back."
Greg's eyes widened, and he let out what could only be described as a cry. Rowley's eyes widened and he laid a hand on his shoulder, only for his friend's knees to buckle as he fell into him. Like he'd said, Greg was really light, but he still hadn't been expecting it. They both tumbled to the ground in a heap, and Rowley tried his best to break their fall.
"Woah—!" He yelped. Any progress made on breathing normally was undone and then some, and Greg seemed to be shaking even harder. He leaned away from him, curling in on himself.
"Greg? Greg." Rowley was officially freaked out. If his friend were thinking clearly he'd be disgusted that they were now sprawled on the bathroom floor.
Greg was now entirely unresponsive, panting as he seemed to grow even more worked up. Rowley was completely out of his wheelhouse. He decided to try and copy what the other character would typically do in a soap opera when this happened: he reached over, grabbed Greg by the shoulder, and shook him. "Greg, you gotta snap out of it!"
His friend tried to pry himself away, but it was better than not even responding. "They-they took… my…"
He gestured at the book, which had landed open in the commotion. Rowley nodded to show he knew, then quickly reached over and closed it without looking. Even though Greg claimed everyone would read them when he was famous, he actually got really mad when anyone read them now.
Greg gulped down more air and continued. "...in front of- of… everyone. Holly… Holly Hills was laughing!"
"Oh…" Rowley didn't know how to respond. Greg was really into the whole popularity chain at their school. He'd tried to show Rowley one of the infamous 'Burn Books' on the bus one time, but Rowley honestly didn't get it. Sure, he wanted people to like him. Who didn't? But his parents told him all the time that he was an awesome, friendly kid, and he didn't need some random kids he barely knew ranking him on a list for him to know he was a good person.
Greg, on the other hand, took it really far. Especially recently. Now that Rowley thought about it, it made sense he'd get so worked up over something like this. It was seen as embarrassing to get picked on, for some reason. Of course, it always made more sense to him that the bullies were the ones who should feel embarrassed they had to resort to pushing people around. Especially getting physical about it, and especially for getting physical with someone like, a third of their size.
Overall, Rowley wasn't sure if he was more upset with the eighth graders for doing the bullying, or Holly Hills and the others for laughing along with it. Something about Greg putting so much of his self-worth in how that girl thought of him made Rowley's stomach churn.
Suddenly, the late bell rang, and he was surprised it hadn't already. Greg wheezed in another shallow breath, and reached up a hand to grasp at his throat. Tears were forced from his eyes as he shut them, but it looked like they were more from not being able to breathe than being sad.
"Greg?" Rowley himself was kind of panicking now. He had no idea what to do. "I'm- It'll be okay. I'm gonna go get the nurse, okay?"
"No, please." Greg pleaded, and no, he was actually crying.
Rowley didn't know what else to do; he wrapped his arms around his friend and held him tightly.
As he expected, Greg tried unsuccessfully to push him away for several seconds before seeming to accept that he was getting nowhere. Rowley wasn't any better in gym class than his friend, but he could easily overpower him by size alone. That sounded bad, but this was for his own good. Greg stilled defeatedly, his frame racked with sobs interrupted by wheezing that was way too quick.
"Greg, please can you try to breathe, like, more normal?" This was the most upset Rowley had ever seen him, but it'd be a thousand times worse if the bullies saw Greg have to be carried to the nurse because he'd passed out or something. Rowley had seen that happen to a kid he knew in Ohio because he ate a peanut accidentally, and the bullying had gotten so bad that he'd had to switch schools.
Greg didn't acknowledge his plea. Instead, though, he leaned into the embrace, letting his friend's arms wrap around him. Rowley froze at this. His best friend, the Greg Heffley, was allowing him to comfort him?
It was so wildly out-of-character that Rowley could only believe it was happening in such a frantic state. The Heffleys were never a very touchy-feely family. Sure, Greg and Rodrick had their moments, and despite Greg's claims to hate him sometimes, they clearly loved each other. And Mrs. Heffley was really nice, but Rowley had never seen any of them hug each other. Okay, he was sure he'd seen Manny hug his mom before, but he was mainly thinking of Greg right now.
His friend always seemed weirded out by how close Rowley was with his family. He remembered during their first sleepover when he'd had a nightmare, of course he'd run to his parents for comfort. They'd let him sleep in their bed with them, and in the morning Greg had acted like it was the craziest thing he'd ever witnessed. Even then, though, Rowley hadn't been nearly as worked up as Greg was now when he'd gone to his parents' room.
If Rowley were having this sort of… reaction. Episode? Attack, he wanted to say as he heard Greg struggle to get a breath down. If Rowley was this upset at school he would've gone to the nurse and asked to use the phone to call his parents. Or at least went to see the guidance counselor. Meanwhile, Greg's first instinct was to hide alone in the bathroom and hope not to be found.
Rowley tried to remember what his parents usually did when he had those nightmares. He found himself tracing circles in his friend's back, mumbling vague affirmations that he hoped were helping, but probably ended up being mostly unheard.
"It'll be okay, buddy… I won't let them lay a hand on you again…" He found himself promising.
Eventually, Greg's breathing leveled out, and he stopped shaking. Rowley waited for several minutes after it seemed to cease to let out the breath he'd been holding- he couldn't be sure it was really over. After a while, though, Greg pulled away, avoiding his gaze.
He honestly looked like a mess. It would be obvious to anyone he'd been crying, and he definitely wouldn't be keen on going to his next class. Especially since they were both going to be really late, and he'd immediately become the center of attention when he walked in. Rowley himself was pretty worried about being late- he knew that eventually the office would send someone looking for them. Luckily for them both, it was the last period of the day. Rowley had an idea, but he had to make sure his friend was actually okay first.
"Do you feel any, uh, better?" He tried to get the other to meet his eye, but he seemed more occupied by a loose thread on his shoe.
Greg let out a shaky breath before responding, and Rowley was just glad he could breathe again. "...Yeah. Sorry."
Rowley's eyebrows shot up. "Sorry? For what?"
Greg finally looked at him, and he looked a little more like himself. In that it kinda looked like he wanted to call Rowley stupid again. "That was, like, really weird and kinda lame."
Rowley was shaking his head before his friend was even finished talking. "No! No. Listen, did that guy…"
For the first time since entering he actually examined Greg, having been distracted earlier by his panicked state. "...did that guy, like, hurt you?"
Greg had the nerve to scoff at this, shaking his head. "No. I mean, only socially. I don't know what's wrong with me."
"There's nothing wrong with you." Maybe you just care a little bit too much what people think of you, he wanted to add. "Listen, it's only a few minutes until the bell rings. If we start walking down now we can get the good seats on the bus and won't have to see anyone else again."
"You think none of the teachers are gonna stop us just waltzing through the halls without a pass?" Greg doubted.
Rowley smiled. "They all like me! If any actually do try to get us in trouble, we can just say I have a tummy ache."
"A stomach ache." Greg rolled his eyes.
"Same difference!"
"It's not, though…" Greg said, then seemed to hesitate. "...Thanks, Rowley."
Rowley couldn't help his grin. "Any time!"
He hoped the next time, though, Greg would feel safe in actually coming to him for help. Or, actually, he hoped he was there to stop the eighth-graders before they took the dia-journal, journal. As a matter of fact, he'd promised no one would bother his friend again. And that was a promise he was going to keep.