---Craig's pov---

I stared down at him as he held onto my hoodie.

"I-I don't feel s-so great..." I hear him mutter under his breath.

I chuckle slightly at that, "You hit your head pretty hard, huh? You're such a spaz."

He shakes his head slightly.

He pulls away from me and stares at my hoodie.

"S-Sorry..." He mutters awkwardly, wiping the blood off of his lips, "I-I got b-blood on your j-jacket..."

I look and see the splotch of blood on the front of my hoodie, "Oh... It's fine."

He nodded. Then, we stood there awkwardly for a minute.

"Do you want to go inside and get fixed up...?" I ask. Why would I want this spaz in my house?

He shook his head, and continued staring down at his shoes.

This is awkward.

"Uh... S-sorry..." He mutters. Then, he turns around and runs away. That was one of the most awkward situations I've ever been in.

What's wrong with that kid, anyway?

Whatever.

I turn and start to head back into my house, when I kick something.

I looked down to see his bag.