South Park © Matt & Trey.

New SP chapter fic finally. All Clyde's POV, per usual.

Warnings: noncon, abuse, suicide, drugs
Side pairings: Kenny/Craig, Wendy/Stan, Token/Nichole, Bebe/Kyle

For better or for worse, it all starts when you're born.

For my best friend, I feel like it was worse. I feel like everything about him is worse.

My best friend's name is Craig Tucker. His birthday is January 25th and he's an Aquarius. Everything about his star sign is wrong. He's not into humanitarian efforts. He's not friendly. He's not well-liked. He's not particularly smart or suave or well-mannered. The worst thing about him is his personality. The only good thing about him is the way he looks. That's probably why people tolerate him. He's a few inches shorter than me, plus slimmer and a lot paler. He has a bit of a Snow White thing going on, but he'd kick my ass if I said that out loud. He has thick, black hair, very blue eyes and a mole below his eye that Bebe calls a "beauty mark".

Once when we were at the mall a woman came up to us and asked Craig if he'd be interested in modelling. Naturally, he didn't bother dignifying that question with a response. He just walked away. I thought it was laughable – Craig, a model? Ha, that's a good one.

He's really good looking but he's a virgin. It's because he hates people and doesn't want to get near them. Unable to stifle my curiosity, I once asked him if he felt sexual attraction at all. He said he does, but he ignores it and sees masturbation as a chore to take care of his body. It's just something that needs to be done.

The only time I see him smile is when he's bullying other kids. He's mean to his parents, he's mean to his sister, he's mean to cops, teachers, friends. He's even mean to me. He treats everyone like they are the gum under his shoes or the dirt beneath his finger nails. He's a misanthropic asshole who has no heart.

Or, at least that's what I thought. That's what I spent years and years thinking and in a split second with just a few words he managed to change it all.

I screwed up last night when the two of us were sitting around at Stark's pond. It was late. We were sweating and half naked, trying to cool in the late summer wind. Everything was fine, quiet even, until, out of the blue, he tells me he has nothing to live for. All I could say was, "Fuck, do we really have to do this right now?" Because it was ruining my buzz and I didn't care that he felt sad. I'm sober now, and I do care, but it's too late. He's pissed. Craig fucking Tucker decided to confess something to me and I brushed him off.

I still remember the look of shock on his face when I said that. Craig isn't one for emotions, but I could read him easily. Part of me thought he was going to start crying, which is completely outrageous. I have a soft spot for crybabies because I, myself, am a huge crybaby. But he didn't cry. Nonetheless, everything about it was wrong. Part of me thought it might've been a joke. I've been Craig's friend since we were put in third grade together and I've never seen him cry in my life. Not even once.

One thing I do know is that Craig holds a very mean grudge and he does so effortlessly. He went home without saying another damn word to me. I don't think he's ever going to forgive me for this.

It's exam week now. High school will be over very soon. Many of our friends have grandiose plans, but not me. I work at the book depository. I'll probably work there forever. It's not a bad job. It's just kind of boring. Craig works at the pet shop. He'll probably work there forever, too. Animals are the only thing he seems to have a soft spot for. I think he likes them because they're not people.

We're all in the library now. Kyle Broflovski is cramming while Stan Marsh tries to keep up. Bebe Stevens is gossiping, not paying much attention to academics. Token Black is studious as ever while his girlfriend, Nichole, works on her cue cards. Kevin Stoley is rewriting his notes. Kenny McCormick is procrastinating while Eric Cartman joins him and Wendy Testaburger tries to keep them focused. Tweek Tweak is nowhere in sight. Typical.

Things changed in high school. Me and Bebe finally broke up and she started to date Kyle. They're still together. I think they make a much better couple than she and I did. There is chemistry. Stan and Wendy are still together. Of course. I doubt they'll ever break up, though they have a lot of dramatic fights. They're famous for it.

"I have Home Ec first," Kenny says out of the blue.

Cartman snorts and laughs. "Fag," he insults.

Wendy crosses her arms, giving him the stink eye. "I take Shop," she points out. "What does that make me?"

"Uh…" Cartman trails off, caught in his own trap. "Not a dyke…"

"What a save," she murmurs sarcastically, looking far from impressed. "You shouldn't use that word, you know."

By now, Cartman knows not to fight with Wendy – especially not when it comes to social justice. "So, uh," he scrambles to change the subject. "What the fuck do you do for a Home Ec exam?"

"It's basically a cook off," Kenny says with a snort.

"Useless tit," Cartman drones. "While you're busy baking cookies, the rest of us have to write real exams. That doesn't seem fair."

Kenny rolls his eyes. "Shut up, you fat shit. Home Ec isn't my only exam. Besides, cooking takes skill. It's an art!"

Honestly, I'm not fond of Kenny. I feel bad for him, sure, but I still don't like him. He's kind of sneaky and he strikes me as someone you can't really trust. I don't like that about him. Other people like him, but for the wrong reasons. Kind of like Craig. They like Craig because he's pretty. They like Kenny because his dad beats him and they think it'd be insensitive not to like him. I don't really know where I stand, but I doubt Kenny would like the idea of being on the receiving end of piteous affection. Then again, maybe he would. He strikes me as manipulative.

I ignore their back and forth and try to concentrate on my own studying. I stare down at the text book laid out in front of me, but nothing I read will sink in. I still can't stop thinking about Craig. He's not here. He'll probably show up last minute and pass all his classes with D's. That's what he's done every other year. He probably won't break that streak.

"What's up, dude?" Token asks me, looking up from his study notes for the first time all day. "You look distracted."

"Craig," is all I say.

Token rolls his eyes as I give him the answer he probably expected. "What did he do now?"

"Er, nothing, actually," I start. "This time it was me. I fucked up. Badly." I keep my voice low as everyone else continues to converse mindlessly.

Token leans closer. "What happened?" he asks.

"Me and Craig were kind of drinking a bit last night," I start, hoping Token isn't judging me for drinking the night before an exam. "Anyway, Craig wanted to talk about his feelings for, like, the first time ever… and I totally shut him down. Now he hates me."

Token looks thoughtful, nodding his head sagely. "You don't think he'll get over it?"

I shake my head. "It takes a lot for Craig to open up. He's never done it before. I bet the last thing he needed was for me to brush him off like that. Now he'll probably never try to open up again because I decided to be a tool."

Token sighs and says, "Okay, look, try not to think about it. Craig is… Well, to be blunt, he's a horrible person. He can't expect others to be at his beck and call when he's finally ready to stop fucking around."

No sympathy from Token.

I force a smile. "Dude, it's not like that… He's… He's not as bad as you think."

Bebe cuts in with a sharp cackle. I guess she was eavesdropping. "Oh, honey. You're blinded by all the love you have for him, but he's fucking evil. He's mean for no reason. He gets his kicks that way. Sometimes he'll manage to insult everyone in the room within moments of entering it."

"Maybe those are his bad days," I attempt to justify his behaviour, though I know there's nothing I can say.

Bebe laughs some more and rubs my arm. "If you insist, sweetie."

My first exam is for my Sociology elective. Craig is in that class, too. Just as I suspected, he shows up mere seconds before the exam starts and he's still in his pajamas. He's one of the first to finish but I have a feeling it's not because he knows the material, it's just because he doesn't care. He does enough to pass and then he quits.

When I see him get up, I start rushing and scribbling down bullshit answers. Then I follow him. I find him clearing out his locker, shoving junk into his backpack. When he sees me, his typical frown deepens and he quickens his pace.

"Dude…" I sigh. "Just talk to me."

"I thought I tried to," he retorts bitterly, refusing to even look at me. "But you wouldn't listen. God, men are all assholes. I fucking hate them all."

"You're a man," I point out before I can stop myself.

I don't know where his hatred comes from, but it's fucking fiery. He hates men. He doesn't particularly like women, either, but at least he doesn't see them as the embodiment of all evil. I think he just sees them as weak. I don't know where that kind of thinking comes from… especially since his mother is a feminist. It doesn't really match up. I thought she would have raised Craig that way. Then again, perhaps she tried. I don't really know why Craig thinks the things he thinks.

"And I'm an asshole," he states.

Well, at least he knows it…

He finishes emptying his locker and he tries to zip his bag up, but there's too much shit inside. With a frustrated hiss, he starts throwing old papers onto the floor to make room. When he can finally zip his bag up, he tosses it over his shoulder and turns away from me.

I follow him down the hallway and finally speak again. "I'm sorry," I say with as much sincerity I can muster.

"Don't care," he answers flatly, walking down the hallway.

"Talk to me," I plead.

"No."

"Yes!"

"No."

"Yes!" I try again and again.

Soon we exit the school grounds and only then does he decide to talk. He stops in his tracks and stares at me. "Y'know," he starts hoarsely, "I'm unhappy."

"What?" I croak.

"I'm unhappy!" he shouts, enunciating. "I've been unhappy for as long as I can remember! I'm struggling and it hurts to fucking get out of bed every morning! For once in my life, I decided to open up and tell someone. I chose you. I chose you! I thought you'd listen! I thought you'd understand! But no. You didn't want to. I was getting you down. I'm sad and all you could do was tell me how much you didn't want to help me. So, fuck you, Clyde! You don't know how fucking hard it was for me to get the words out! I thought I was going to fucking choke on them, but I didn't… I got them out… only to have it thrown in my face. You didn't just disrespect me, you embarrassed me!"

"Craig, wait –" I plead, but he cuts me off.

"NO! I'm never going to forgive you!" he growls.

I've never seen him this angry before. I think I definitely fucked up beyond repair, but I can't bear the thought of losing a friend like this – especially not Craig. Sure, he's mean… but I feel like I need him. I need him and maybe it's all for selfish reasons. He's always been the most constant thing in my life, always there and never changing.

But I guess I'm a shitty friend. I never really knew him at all. I never knew he was suffering.

"Never?" I ask weakly. It's all I can manage to force out.

"Never!" he insists sharply before spinning around on his heel and leaving the school grounds. I don't hesitate to follow him, trying to talk some sense into him the entire time but he won't have any of it.

He keeps screaming at me to shut up. He raises his arms and clasps his hands over his ears, refusing to listen. Still, I keep following.

I suppose this is my fault. It doesn't matter that I was drunk off my ass. I should have still been a decent friend and listened to him.

I follow him out into the street and he's still ignoring me and I'm still trying to get his attention. In the middle of the road, he turns around and demands, "Stop following me, you asshole!"

"Craig –"

"No! I fucking hate you! Get it? I HATE YOU!"

The rest happens in slow motion: Craig turns away from me and neither of us sees the truck until it's too late.

Crash.