So this is an idea resulting from a physcology class, insomnia, depression and/or suicidal thoughts, and my brain being an idiot at 2 am.

So in physc this week, we did a thing revolving around suicidal thoughts and depression. One thing that causes said other things is failure. And to put it kindly, Kowalski has quite marvelously failed to make an invention that has not ended in chaos. So when people love doing a thing, like Kowalski loves doing science, if they fail a lot at the thing, then they could get a shit ton of depression, which is a fun time for all. And keep in mind that it could be a small whisp of depression that could turn into anything. I'm sorry for the bad explanation but I'm failing the class so….

Anyways, this fic revolves around Kowalski getting depressed by the aforementioned way and then he gets worse and shit goes down and yeah. IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED BY THIS STUFF THEN GO READ SOME FLUFF AND GET HOT CHOCOLATE AND A BLANKET. This is an AU in which everyone are humans and this takes place in a high school, but the penguins are all living together anyways.

So I hope you enjoy. I must apologize for the shitty writing that's about to go down.

Kowalski POV

It started out as just a thought. If I couldn't build a simple invention, then what could I do? I was a man of science; it was the only skill that I considered to have that the others didn't. Skipper had a commanding, can-do attitude; Private was cute and cuddly; Rico was a fucking suitcase. They all were consistent in their unique strengths.

And then there was me. I was supposed to be smart; to invent things; to have a perfect grip on science. But I've noticed that I've been failing in that aspect. I had spent the summer before my junior year locked away in my lab, trying to make something that wouldn't destroy the world. So far I had zip and school was starting tommorow.

I was a fucking failure. That's all.

As I mentioned before, science was my unique thing, the thing that I always succeed at. And if I failed at that, then I hypothetically will fail at everything… Which doesn't really surprise me, honestly.

Shaking myself from these thoughts, I walk into the bedroom, seeing my team all sleeping soundly. No, not just my team, my friends and family. We have all lived together for such a long time, I can't even remember.

As I lay in my bunk, my thoughts returned.

I wasn't wrong was my last thought before I drifted off into the void.

General POV

In the so-called "Penguin's" household, it was Skipper who woke first. At first, he thought it was a normal day. But something was nagging the back of his mind. And then, with a silent -fuck-, he remembered. Today was the first day of his senior year. As of today, he was at the top, the big man in their dinky little high school. Rico would be a junior, along with Kowalski, whereas Private, the youngest, would be a sophomore.

This "family" was highly unusual. It consisted of four teenage males. The first and oldest, Skipper, was an eighteen year old of average height and a muscular structure. He had blue eyes and a brown buzz cut that was a little long, but still stood up, making his hair flat on the top. The leader of the group, Skipper came from a military family with a high standing. Originally, he had bought a small house and had intended to live there alone, until he had found Rico.

Rico had shown up in the neighborhood, cold and hungry, with a bag and a bleeding cut on his cheek. Skipper had, of course, taken him inside and gave him food and a place to sleep. Rico told him all about his abusive parents, destructive tendencies and how he had to run away from his home. So that's how Skipper got a roommate. Now, three years later, at seventeen, Rico was taller with as much muscle mass as Skipper, and a black mohawk to top it off.

A month after Rico came into Skipper's life, they found Kowalski. The duo was surveying the neighborhood when they saw a tall, skinny kid passed out on the side of the road. When Kowalski regained consciousness, he only said that he appreciated their kindness. Somehow, he was talked into living with the other two. At that time, Kowalski had been short. Now he was 16, tall and skinny, with a disappointing amount of muscle, but with longish, rust-colored hair,

Private was the only one who hadn't shown up on the doorstep, so to speak. Through unknown military antics, he ended up knocking on their door with a suitcase, talking of tea and doilies and sporting blonde, curly hair and big blue eyes. He still continued this behavior, even at the age of fifteen.

Technically, these boys weren't supposed to be living together without an adult, but Skipper had pulled some strings within the government, and they got by, so they were fine. The house that they lived in had a kitchen with a table in it for eating, a bedroom with bunk beds, a bathroom, a lab and a couple other classified rooms.

"Good morning, Skippah," exclaimed a small boy. Private, originally from England, still carried that adorable British accent even though it's been years since he travelled to America.

"Morning Soldier. How goes it?," replied the older male. "Ready for the school year?"

"Oh boy, am I ever," chirped the younger one, "I can't wait to make so many more friends!" Skipper chuckled. Always the optimist, that Private.

"Ood 'ohh 'ning," grunted Rico. His mohawk was sticking in all directions as a result from the night.

With 3/4 of the team in the kitchen, they whipped up some toast and coffee, getting ready for the hell that would be today. The absence of the genius raised a small concern.

"Where's Kowalski? Doesn't he normally love school," asked Skipper. The other two just shrugged. At that moment, the tall, skinny teen walked in. He looked dead.

"Look alive soldier," barked Skipper. This elicited him a -yep- from the offending teen. Skipper frowned. Something was up with his options man. But of course, he shrugged it off as a factor of recently waking up.

After a quick cup of coffee, the small group headed out towards their future prison.

"Hello silly people! It is I, your king! All hail me," shouted a voice. Skipper groaned. Julien, an exchange student from Madagascar, had narcissistic personality disorder and insisted that everyone called him 'King Julien.' He walked around with his friend Maurice, who acted as a sort of advisor. These two were perpetually followed by a younger boy named Mort, who had an obsession with the so called "King." Tastefully ignoring Julien and co., the friends turned the final corner towards the hell known as high school.

Many people greeted them as they walked past. They saw Marlene, a close friend and Mason and Phil, two twins who were nicknamed the Chimps, for reasons unknown. Phil didn't speak for some reason, but it was okay because Mason spoke for him.

They also saw Bada and Bing, Bert, Joey, Hans, Blowhole and Savio, all people from last year. There were many other students, but Skipper and the gang ignored them.

Walking to each member's locker in turn, they gathered their schedules to examine them and compare classes.

Kowalski had gotten lucky with his classes. They were all easy for someone of his intellect. AP Calculus, AP Physics; child's play. The only setback was that all of his classes contained Hans and/or Blowhole, both of which he detested. He only knew this because the two enemies had purposefully walked by their group, exclaiming loudly that they would be the top of the class. Great, Kowalski thought. Now I have to sit through their shit.

The first three classes passed by and soon enough it was time for lunch, which turned out to be some sort of mystery-meat sandwich. As lunch passed, the team had a vivid conversation regarding the plan for the week. Go to school, go back to their house, train, eat sleep. That was the general gist.

But there was one small problem. He was not able to focus. Ever since the previous night, he has been increasingly upset. About what, he was pretty sure it was the thoughts regarding failure that had started. They kept replaying in his mind. Failure. Worthless. Waste of space. Good for nothing. They wouldn't leave his brain.

Of course he had always had an issue with self deprecation, who didn't? But it had never gotten this bad. The thoughts filled his mind, making it impossible to concentrate. He tried but could never focus on anything.

Two weeks later and the thoughts haven't left. They are getting louder, more frequent. No matter what happened, the teenager couldn't stop thinking them.

-Failure. Worthless. Waste of space. Good for nothing. Useless. Pathetic. Stupid. Why can't you do anything right?-

Even Skipper had said so. "Can you for once invent something that doesn't threaten to kill us?" That had hurt. -Calm down-, he tried to tell himself. -You've made plenty of other inventions that worked before. Like… like..- He couldn't think of one.

-Maybe everyone's right. Hell, even I'm right.-

The rest of the week passed, and Kowalski had invented the Love-u-Lasor, a device devised to make Doris, the love of his life, fall in love with him. It worked until he fucked everything up, as usual. But his incompetence wasn't the only thing this time.

It was what his friends and neighbors said that really hurt.

-What part of 'zip it' eludes you? The zip or the it? Stupid Kowalski. How'd you like to feel my fist denting your smug yap? You pathetic excuse for a soldier. I wish you'd go away. Nobody likes you. Can you leave already. You're a freak. I hate you. Everybody fucking hates you.-

-Me too,- he thought. -Me too.-