./Breathing for Soap, Chapter 2 – Aching

A/N: Herpa lerpa. The fact that this is fanfiction means that I don't own South Park, ja? Ja.

I WOULD, however, love to be owned by something as magnificently sexy as Craig Tucker.

I listened to Fame by Drop Dead, Gorgeous while I wrote this because it was stuck in my head c:

And then the next time I listened to Graveyard Dancing by DRUGS because they are godly. ?

Recap: Craig Tucker struggles with the fact that his best friend in the entire world is returning to South Park after five long years of being apart. Also, he takes showers longer than mine. :B

It took too long for me to steel myself enough to dry off. My mind was fuzzed over so badly that I could barely even recognize my own fucking face in the mirror. I let out an angry huff and gave my cheeks a few quick slaps with both hands simultaneously.

"Snap out of it, goddamnit..!"

I didn't care that the clothes I pulled on were the dirty ones from yesterday. It wasn't as if I'd done anything in them; Sunday was Craig Tucker's fucking chill day. It was a day of watching the same episodes of Red Racer that had graced the television for years, not of going out and doing stupid shit. If anyone felt the need to drag me somewhere, they would do it on one of the other six days of the week, or they wouldn't do it at all.

The comfort that slipped through my veins when I brought out my chullo was a welcome relief. That thing held memories, I suppose, but what made me love it was the fact that it was unchanging. It was the one constant thing in my life. Nobody touched the hat because they'd find themselves missing blood if they did. It needed to stay... uncontaminated. If someone else had the privilege of touching it, then they could leave their memories with it, too. And if that person left... I wouldn't be able to handle wearing my hat any more. I wouldn't.

I didn't look at the mirror before I clomped down the stairs, uncaring of the noise my high-tops made against them; I didn't want to. I didn't want to risk confirming that my inner shittiness was reflected there.

I didn't want to eat, either, and I didn't want to drive the goddamn car, because the roads were icy as shit. Couple that with my state of mind, and you've got a wreck waiting to happen.

...Probably a few dead pedestrians, too.

So I walked. I watched my laces flop about as music blasted from my headphones and inhaled the scent of my favorite detergent from the straps of my backpack. Maybe Mom had decided to take her head out of her ass for once and actually do something nice for her only son.

"Nah," I said aloud. Even considering something like that was ridiculous. After all, my mom was pretty hot, but she was a complete asshat.

The thoughts of her had served to push thoughts of Tweek from my mind, but my subconscious must have still been focused on him, because I had walked to his old house.

Suddenly, I didn't give a fuck that it was only six thirty in the morning. All I could do was run up to the door and ring the bell, my heart thumping and my eyes swimming. I hissed his name under my breath like it was the only thing tying me to life any longer. The screaming in my ears did nothing to keep me from picking up the little gasps from the other side of the door.

It swung open, and I fell on him. The tiny kid staggered backwards with a shriek. He must have been struggling to support my weight; I had around eight inches on him, and a good sixty pounds, too, if the narrowness of his frame had anything to say about it. He was like a slightly elongated version of the child I had known so many years ago... So coffee really does stunt your growth.

I could say nothing, and I couldn't budge, even when my iPod fell to the floor. Cold air swirled about us, carrying snowflakes in onto Tweek's carpet. Slowly, slowly, his knees buckled, and I made no move to stop us from going down. We collapsed in a heap onto the floor, and I could feel his heart beating erratically where the skin of our hips had crashed together in out landing. He was heaving beneath me; I lifted my head and shoulders up enough to see that he was crying.

His eyes flashed up to meet mine, and I was stricken by the size of them. Wide and tall, and accented by perfectly curly lashes... I found myself unable to look away. I was captivated by him, even then.

"C-C-Craig..." he whispered.

Then he started bawling again.

I was able to compose myself enough to lift us both from the doorway. He was a doll in my arms, flopping about with absolutely no resistance. With a grunt, I pushed my back against his door to shut it. This left Tweek slumped into my chest, clinging to the front of my hoodie with bony fists. He had managed to quiet his noises to a soft, broken keening, and I still had not said a word.

Not "I missed you." Not "what the fuck, you were gone for such a long time." Not "why the hell didn't you ever text me?" Not "I'm glad you're back." Just silence. Just Craig.

He clawed himself up higher, pressing a wet cheek to the bared skin of my neck. It felt like he was trying to worm himself into my ribcage, or something... I realized that he must have been freezing, and unzipped my jacket to pull him into it. He reached up to slide his arms into the spare space in my sleeves, which tugged us even closer together. I hummed into his hair until he slithered to the floor in order to lead me upstairs by the front of my shirt.

His house was exactly the same, from the green shag carpet to the uneven underwear drawer. It even fucking smelled the same in there, despite the fact that the Tweaks could have been back for no more than a few days. The only difference that I could spot was actually a rather large one: boxes were piled up all over the place, some full, some empty. Tweek rifled through one of them now, while I sat on his bed, watching. He was plunged elbow-deep in the thing, but when he withdrew, toting a black thermal shirt, I nearly died.

"...Arms!" I choked, automatically moving to grab his wrists and inspect him closer. I lifted him once more, and his thighs settled on either side of my hips like they were made to fit there, but that thought was barely of consequence at the time. I was too overcome with shock from what I thought I had seen on his arms. My mind hadn't been playing tricks on me, after all: the skin was soft, smooth, completely hairless... and riddled with cuts. Fresh ones, scabbed ones, scars; they covered his arms so absolutely that there might not have been any unmarred skin at all. I stared at it, mesmerized, and thoughtlessly revealed my own forearm. What I assumed to be his newest cuts had opened up, and blood had begun to well from them. On impulse, I pressed my wounds to his. They matched up perfectly.

Our lives ran down from our wrists, mixing, becoming one, and I was driven to whisper one thing to him.

"...I love you."

But I kept it to myself.

Eventually, I released him, making a disgusted sound in the back of my throat. He whimpered, shrinking away from me like a beaten dog to tug the thermal over his head. The sleeves covered only about three quarters of the damage; he wrapped his hands around his wrists in a vain attempt to hide the rest away.

"D-downstairs," he suggested weakly, twitching.
"Sweatshirt," I demanded. He had no option but to obey, because I stood between him and the staircase.

In the kitchen, he busied himself with filling a wide thermos with black coffee. I noticed that he slipped a pair of pills in it; they fizzled into nothing under our combined gazes.

I turned to him, cocking an eyebrow. "What are those?"

"ADD d-doesn't go away."

"Eh. Good enough for me." He had to know that I cared, though, right? Right?

"...I know." For some reason, he smiled at that.

I shrugged and followed him back out to the entryway, supervising the fastening of his boots. At least his choice of footwear was logical; I couldn't say the same about myself.

"I-I can finally l-lace them by myself, Craig!" he cried proudly, barely blushing. I nodded and gave his hair an affectionate tousle. Soft... My heart protested again.

Woahh. Easy, boy.

Together, we braved the cold, content to leave each other to our thoughts. I didn't expect him to make a move for the garage; driving would undoubtedly be too much pressure, and walking was going to have to be good for today, regardless. No cars for uneasy Craigs.

As we walked, I realized that it was a miracle that it was actually him who had opened the door. It could have been anybody – five years is an awful long time to be away from a place. They could have moved into any house in the fucking city, but it had been their old one.

"W-we never sold it," the blonde squeaked, reading my thoughts. "A-and we couldn't afford to r-rent the apartment in N-N-Nebraska after D-dad got l-l-laid off, s-so we h-had to move back here. I was so f-fucking scared, man, I thought that there'd be gnomes in my c-closet! And they would have grown v-vicious from feeding off of the D-Dumpsters behind C-City Wok, a-and they would have eaten my braghbrains, dude! And then they'd suck the marrow f-from my bones and leave the empty husks in the D-Dumpster! And then the g-government would get involved, because they would blame it on L-L-Lu K-Kim, and people sucking out other p-people's bone marrow is f-fucked UP, man!"

"That is pretty fucked up," I admitted, giving his arm a friendly punch.

Just like that, we had fallen back into step. Those years of endless emotional night may very well not have passed at all. Looking at us, we were just best friends walking to school in clothing that made little sense for the weather. It was... surreal to have this slight boy by my side again, but I wouldn't have traded it for anything, no matter how gay that sounds. He was the piece that had been missing from my life. The void he had left in me was what I had been trying to fill with the blood that I drew with my knife.

I didn't think that his return would do anything for that unfortunate habit, though. At school, Kenny didn't see it, either. He made it his business to check me every fucking day, and what he saw that morning made him frantic.

"Oh, shit, dude, you cut again? You need to fucking stop..." His voice was a coo. A fucking coo. My parents never even cooed at me; I didn't need this underfed asshole to make up for that, and I sure as hell didn't need his pity.

"Says Mr. Daily fucking Suicide! I don't need this bull now, dude. Suck me."

The fucking pervert took the bait. Anything was better than trying to sit through both his and the teacher's lectures, believe me.

"I know how to do that~," he promised, running a hand up my thigh. I slapped it down with my own, holding it there, squeezing until his knuckles popped.

"Ah-ah-ah," I chided, grinning in spite of myself as he jerked down toward his hand, wincing. "Not so fast, loverboy."

"I have weed!" he gasped, pleading with his eyes. Blue.

"I just so happen to enjoy that... How much?"

"Enough!"

"For?"

"Three or four, if you're not a greedy little fuck!"

I let him go, satisfied. He nursed his fingers with an injured expression, flexing them until he was sure that nothing had been broken. Hey, I'm not that big of an asshole unless it's deserved.

"I'll bring the company," I declared, thinking of a certain blonde and just how nice another set of lips felt when I was high.

"Newbies are always fun." He winked seductively, knowingly, and my stomach clenched.

Fuck you, McCormick. Nobody – and I repeat: NOBODY – has the right to be as insightful as you. Couldn't you just focus your attention on someone else for a change? Irritable ol' Craigy is just about ready to burst your balls, and you don't need the beginnings of a sixth sense to figure that shit out.

But I just wasn't in the mood to kick the shit out of him, even though he refused to wipe that cocky-ass grin off of his face. I was pretty sure that the teacher was done babbling about poets or whatever the fuck it was, and so I got ready to go sleep in second period.

Today was going to be fucking long.

The first thing that I did when I got into the cafeteria for lunch was to hunt Tweek down. I hadn't seen him in class once, and that faggy tic that had developed in my heart was raw with worry. Things hadn't been exactly wonderful for him before he moved...

Luckily, his bright yellow hair stood out from the crowd, and if it hadn't, the outbursts of "sweet baby Jesus!" would have done the trick. Grinning, I made my way over to him and snatched the thermos from his hands.

"Gah!" Tweek spun around, eyes wide, and threw himself flat against the wall. I snickered as I watched recognition play across his face and greeted him with a little wave. "Craig, don't p-pull shit!"

"Who's pulling shit? I was just getting myself some coffee," I deadpanned, unscrewing the cap from his thermos and taking a swig. It was cold and bitter, and I had to fight to keep my nose from curling in disgust.

"...W-what if I spit in that?"

I shrugged and took a place in line. I couldn't tell what was for lunch, but it smelled fucking great, for once. Maybe the crotchety old chef had died...

"Or w-what if it was p-piss instead of c-c-coffee? Or liquefied brains?"

"That sounds fucking delicious. Where do I get some?"

Tweek stared at me, dumbfounded. His shoulders shook, and he held his hands close to his chest – the perfect height for picking at the collar of his shirt, should the need arise. He looked like he was about to do it then; I intervened, grabbing his wrists and yanking them down to his waist, then turning to move with the line as if nothing had happened.

We were silent for a moment... Or as silent as things get with a guy like him, at least. There were still the occasional whimpers. Admittedly, they were getting to me. I wanted to know if it was me he was thinking about, if he had been preoccupied with thoughts of me during class as I had been preoccupied with thoughts of him...

It was steak and potatoes for lunch, and they were making my stomach growl like a fucking bear. My mouth watered as the scent of them wafted up to me, and I wanted to rub my face around in them as we moved to my customary lunch table. Kenny and Clyde were there already; Token was out.

"Stupid asshole probably skipped to go fucking hang-gliding," I muttered as we sat down. I pulled my twitchy blonde tight against my side, soliciting a shriek. The other blonde laughed in that self-sufficient way of his, the laugh that he used when he understood more than he was letting on. I shot him a glare, but did nothing else. Clyde hadn't even noticed that Tweek was there; he was too busy being amazed by my meal.

"Dude, that looks amazing! Last time my mom cooked steak, she burnt the damned things to a crisp. I couldn't even chew them," Clyde pouted, reaching to grab to fork from my hand. I shoved the bite into my mouth quickly and made a show of chewing it, half-lidding my eyes and even moaning for show. For a second, I thought he was going to snatch the rest of it from my tray in revenge, but he just pushed himself up from his seat.

"...Bitch. Gonna go get one of them things, man, before I die of starvation."

"Like that's ever going to happen, tubby," Kenny interjected, stretching immensely. "I'm eating it on you, just to prove a point."

"Mmm-mm!" Clyde whined, pushing him. "And if you think I'm getting you one, you'd better be fucking coming along for the ride!"

"Yeah, okay, I get it. You don't want everyone to think you're being a fatass and eating two servings yourself."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with double servings! I am a growing boy, and I need my nourishment!"

"If getting your nourishment means eating all of the snacks in the house when you get home from school every day..."

"Oh, you watch it, McCormick!"

Their banter faded as they walked away. That left only Tweek and I at the round table... I found myself noting every little twitch he made against my skin as I continued to shovel bite after bite into my mouth.

Emotional turmoil makes me ravenous...

"...H-how do you eat that?" He wasn't twitching any more.

I paused to give him a sidelong glance. "Whadyu mean?"

"How d-do you do it?"

This time I really stopped, turning my torso to look at him directly. He was just sitting there, shivering, clinging onto the thermos I had returned to him for dear life. The fingers of one hand kept flicking up to caress the disaster of his wrists. His cuts peered out from the safety of his sleeves, baring Tweek's pain to the world. I gently tugged his sleeves down over them and sighed deeply. He hadn't once made a move to get anything to eat. I shuffled the conversation a bit so that it focused on him instead of me.

"Aren't you hungry?"

He mumbled something dismissive, turning his face away from me. I grabbed his chin and turned him back to me; he was blushing ans refusing to meet my eyes.

"Don't you, like, eat or anything?"

"Black coffee," he responded immediately.

"...Dude."

"I... I'll get all f-fat, cuz they p-put addictive chemicals in that shit, man! A-and then you won't be able to pick me up and c-carry me a-any more..."

"Don't do that shit for me."

Stern Momma!Craig came out then. I waggled a finger at Tweek like I had done to Kenny that morning, then cut an insultingly small piece out of my steak and held it out for him. "Ahhh."

Tweek resisted the prompt, leaning away from me. He seemed genuinely disgusted, and for that I was genuinely worried. I pressed the fork against his mouth, but it was no use: his lips were pressed together tightly. Even the barest touch of the meat made him heave, like he was going to retch.

I felt my eyebrows knit together as I looked over him. I was noticing things that I had not noticed before: how taut his skin really was over his bones. How visible his ribs were – even through his shirt, I could count them. The depth that his eyes had sunk into his face, and the darkness of the circles around them. How sections of his hair were frazzled and damaged from his ripping at it. How blood had darkened the black cloth over his arms, made it cling to the skin like wet paper.

How his eyes shone as he fought to keep them away from me. How strikingly his collar bone stood out...

I wanted to kiss this fragile thing, to have my arms around him, to whisk him away from all the suffering he had to endure. I wanted to shield him, to protect him, to wrap him in light... But mostly I wanted him to feel the love that I held for him, and be healed.

The sound of Kenny and Clyde's back-and-forth broke the spell, if only for a moment.

Kenny was politely interested, now that he had his own food. "What, baby bein' fussy, Momma?"

Blinking to clear any traces of fag thoughts in my eyes, I played along. "Yeah. Got any cure for that, Daddy?"

He rubbed his chin. "Hmmm..."

"Shove it up his ass!" Clyde cut in happily.

Even Tweek gave a little giggle at that. I shot him something meaningful and, ever so grudgingly, he ate the morsel that I held out. He would take no more, though, and I wasn't pushing. Progress was progress. I didn't know how he had behaved when I wasn't there, and I was still fucking hungry, anyway. I munched away on the rest of my steak, smiling with one side of my mouth when Tweek snuck some mashed potatoes when he thought I wasn't watching.

When the bell rang, signaling dismissal from lunch, I pulled Tweek to the side and held him against the same wall that he had pressed himself upon before. "After school, you, Kenny and I are gonna do something amazing."

"T-too much pressure, man!"

I smirked. "Nah, not once we're done."

Kenny and I got sick of fidgeting in shop class real fast. Fifteen minutes into it and I was already itching to go.

"Let's just fucking ditch already, man!" I breathed to him, fixing my gaze ahead to seem less conspicuous. "It's not like anything is gonna happen in this class, anyway. Where d'you have the stuff?"

"In my car, duh." He made a face like that was the most obvious thing in the world. "Are you really that distracted by your long-lost loverboy?"

"No way, dude! How am I supposed to know where you keep your drug stash?"

...It's hard to yell and whisper at the same time. Try it.

I could tell that Kenny wasn't buying my shit. "You like him and you know it, you mother hen, you." He held a hand up when he saw that I was going to interrupt. "But whatever! Just wait... eh... fifteen more minutes, and then we'll go fetch the kid."

I had to accept those terms; he was the one with the weed. What I didn't have to do was pay attention to our fat fuck of a teacher. From the looks of him, he could easily have been, like, Cartman's uncle, or something. I flipped him off – what, the first bird of the day? God damn! - and focused on the music blaring from my headphones. In my mindlessness, I scrawled the name of the song on the desk top: Mr. Owl Ate my Metal Worm.

"Wait a minute," I grumbled to myself, dragging a fingertip along the messy letters. "M-r O-w-l A-t-e m-y... It's a palindrome."

Kenny grinned at the less-than-impressive speed of my discovery. "Good job, genius."

"Yeah, whatever. One in-class epiphany is enough for today; let's beat shit."

We got up and just left, as easily as anything. The teacher didn't even look up; he was probably jerking at his desk.

I realized belatedly that I didn't know what class Tweek had, but being free was better than rotting in the classroom for any longer. I flipped off a few kids who were watching us out of a window – I had forgotten how sweet that shit was. I laughed at the temptation to kiss my middle fingers.

Kenny and I bummed around in the corner by the gym that kids like to use for smoking. Of course, we were both too fucking brilliant to do the weed there, but cigarettes are good, too. We passed my last one back and forth until students started to flow from the doors of the school, pleasantly silent. I'd figured that we'd just mull around until we happened upon Tweek.

It's lucky that we headed in the direction that we did, though, or else shit would've gotten messy. We rounded the corner in time to see my spazz backing away from a pissed-off senior. Ugh, why did the fucking seniors always have to go and poke their noses in where they didn't belong? It made me mad, and Craig Tucker has a Bruce Banner side as well as a motherly side.

"You think you can just show up and pretend like we don't all fucking hate you? You think you can just waltz back in and be best fucking friends with everybody? I'll show you what happens when you try to pull shit on my girlfriend, you fucking freak!"

He didn't get the throw the fucking punch that he drew back for, oh no. I took his fist in my own and wrapped an elbow around his neck as I pulled back on it. He grunted in surprise

"You're not going to lay a fucking finger on him, understand?" I hissed into his ear, my voice gravel. I felt him gulp. He got a swift kick to the back of the calf as Tweek skittered away toward Kenny, who held out his arms urgently, waving. I gave the guy another kick – this time to the ribs – as I pushed him away from me, disgusted. "I'm the one running this show, faggot."

I was winding up to throw my own punch when Kenny grabbed my shoulder, sheltering Tweek in the crook of his other arm. "Look, dude, chill the fuck out! We'll go right now..."

Seeing the way that Tweek was shaking drained the rage from my bloodstream almost instantly. I sighed hugely, letting my shoulders relax. I hadn't realized how tense I'd become in just that short minute...

Kenny lead the way to his car swiftly, glancing back every once in a while, probably checking for potential supervision, or to see if the senior was following us.

"Coast is clear. Operation Get High is a go!"

"...Couldn't it at least have a less faggy name?" I whined, my teeth still on edge. Tweek was keeping on his human vibrator impression and yanking on my sleeve with all of his might. Whether that was because he was frightened of the bully or because our operation seemed sketchy, I'll probably never know.

"No way, dude. My grass, my code name."

/I based their speech patterns off of my own O 3O;;

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Where do you want the hook ups to happen? Hmmm~?