---Tweek's pov---

"If you say so," the person says leaning their back against the stall door, "So, what are you doing in here during class?"

Having a panic attack, you?

"W-What are you doing here d-during class?" I ask them in a accusing tone.

I hear them chuckle slightly, "Touché."

I narrow my eyes, "Who are you?" I blurt out before I can think of something else to say instead.

They laugh, "Why don't you open the door and find out, who ever you are," they say.

Instead of doing that, I put the toilet seat down and stand on top of it, barely being able to see over the stall door.

Stan Marsh?

The asshole quarterback?

What's he doing here?

"W-Why are you here?" I ask staring down at him from above the stall.

He looks up slightly, "Oh, hi.... Twitch?" He tried to smile nicely but it came out as forced and fake.

"Are y-you waiting on him a-again?" I ask.

His face turns slightly red, "Why would I be waiting for Kyle in the bathroom?"

"I-I didn't say you were w-waiting for Kyle-"

"Well, I gotta go!" Stan raises his voice above mine to cut me off, "Bye Twitch!"

That was weird.

Or was that just me?