Hay guys :D did you miss me? of course not, because of how quick i uploaded this! people who watch orpheus, i am so so sorry. i will get my ass in gear eventually. people who don't... read on i guess :/

enjoy!

a/n


Chapter Two: Sometimes I Like to Cry in the Rain

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It started out as a feeling / which then turned into a hope / which then turned into a quiet though / which then turned into a quiet word / and then that word grew louder and louder / till it was a battle cry…

-Regina Spektor, 'The Call'

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It was raining.

Of course it was.

Token shifted on the ornate step he was lounging on, trying to find sunlight. Some color would be nice. Everything was a dull shade of gray, brown, or green now. Mold on more moldy mold. Would it kill the world to put in some red or orange? Or at least some mahogany or purple. He would even settle for the white of snow at this point.

Clyde sniggered beside him. The sound gurgled and grated on Token's nerves. He twitched.

"Look at that." Clyde's malicious voice sounded by his ear. An arm extended into his apathetic view, pointing through the shifting rain. "Freak."

Token glanced over to see who Clyde's latest victim was.

"A little young for your attention, don't ya think?" He sighed, waving a tired hand.

A small figure perched on the edge of a picnic table, seemingly examining the cloudy sky. Slightly weird, yes, but no big deal.

"No, no, he's just small. He's in one of my classes. I think he even has English with you." Clyde told him excitedly. Token glanced over again. Yes, he was vaguely familiar. Token dredged his memory for some clue as to his name. Tweek – something, right? He could recall something to do with sumo wrestling.

He didn't think about that to hard.

"Whatever." Token looked away, feeling tired. He was in no mood for Clyde's games. Not that he was ever in the mood for them.

"I dare you…" Clyde trailed off as he examined the poor boy. "I dare you to shove him into that puddle."

Token couldn't hold back a snort.

"Just a little elementary school, Clyde." He tried to joke. Actually, puddle-shoving was fairly sophisticated for Clyde. Sometimes it surprised Token that the moron could think in complex sentences. Usually the dare was the equivalent of 'beat up that kid and get away with it'.

"Whatever." Clyde scowled. "You scared?"

"No." Token looked up sharply, angry. He always forgot how easily Clyde could press his buttons and get him to do anything.

"Riiiiigght. You chicken? You scared of a little kid? Pussy." Clyde laughed, a hard, angry sound.

"Shut up." Token glared at Clyde, pulse pounding in his ears. He knew what was coming, knew exactly which thing Clyde was going to use against him, but that didn't help. If anything, it made him angrier.

"Or maybe…" Clyde's voice went dangerously soft and cunning. "Maybe you won't push him for a different reason. You like yourself a little boytoy? Want the little cocksucker? Faggot."

Red heat exploded behind Token's eyes. He shoved Clyde away from him and glared.

"Shut the fuck up. I'll go push the kid in the motherfucking puddle."


It was raining.

He was sitting in it, of course. No one was around to judge him. Of course, there were the people on the roofed steps, but no one else was insane enough to be out in the rain.

He tilted his head to the sky. The drops got in his eyes and fell on his tongue when he stuck it out. They tasted cool and sweet. He wondered when South Park had last gotten rain. It seemed all he could bring to mind was smooth expanses of snow. He liked this grayness though. It was easy to fade into, felt smoother than the sharp snow white.

A footstep scuffed on the ground behind him.

Tweek flinched and tensed, though he didn't turn to look. Sometimes that was all it took to provoke them to action. If he didn't move they usually just tossed off an insult and left.

For a silent moment he savored the hope they would leave him alone.

Impact.

A long second of teetering on the brink.

Falling.

He toppled towards the wet asphalt, trying lethargically to break his fall. He wasn't quick enough, slamming into the ground side first and rolling over onto his stomach. The jarring impact shook loose a whimper of anguish.

Cold water soaked his pants and shirt. Slowly, painfully, he turned over and looked up to find who had shoved him.

Token glared down at him.

A boy Tweek vaguely recognized crowded behind him, hooting and dancing around like a monkey that had thrown a particularly large ball of poop. Tweek didn't, couldn't pay him any attention. He wasn't the immediate threat.

The immediate threat was Token. Token, glaring down at him. Token, wiping his hands on his jeans as if he had touched something contaminated.

"Lookit, the lil' baby gonna cry?" The familiar boy – Clyde, he remembered – called raucously. Tweek still couldn't pay attention.

Why? He asked silently, staring at Token. Why do you hate me? Am I really that disgusting?

For a second Token stared back at him and he wondered almost idly if he had spoken his thoughts aloud. But no.

"You gonna stare deep into his eyes all day?" Clyde called when his previous comment had garnered him the attention he deserved, which was none.

"Leave the fag where it belongs." Token sneered down at him before turning on his heel and stalking away. Clyde followed, whispering crude commentary in Token's ear and sending Tweek a terrifying backwards glance.

Tweek looked longingly at the people behind the windows for a second. Not one even glanced in his direction.

Tweek stayed frozen in the water, desolation paralyzing his limbs. Rain dripped in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.


It was raining.

The thick drops hit the glass windows and slid down next to Bebe's ear. If she turned her head just so a reflection of what was outside shone in Stan's mirrored sunglasses. Why he was wearing sunglasses on such a miserable day was beyond her, of course.

The world was even more gray than normal in the lenses. But it was easy enough to see the boy in the puddle.

She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn't seeing things again.

There was a boy sitting in a puddle.

Several large picnic tables framed him, dwarfing his figure. His things, a few binders and damp notebooks, sat on the one closest to him, loose pieces of notebook paper slowly melting in the drizzle.

His head was turned away from her, but the way his shoulders slumped and his hands fell by his sides spelled his sadness easily enough. He was so small, too. And soaking wet, his clothes plastered to his body, his blond hair shading his face further.

"Bebe! Are you even listening?" Wendy snapped in her ear.

"What?" Bebe flinched dramatically. "What'd I miss?"

Kenny snickered, surreptitiously moving closer to Stan. He grinned and, when he thought no one was looking, hugged Kenny tighter. His head shifted and Bebe lost her view of the boy in the puddle.

She considered turning and looking for him, checking that he wasn't just a figment of her fucked-over imagination. But then Wendy snapped her fingers in Bebe's face and she forgot about the boy.


It was raining.

Craig dashed through it, ragged breathing not enough to drown out the hate-filled shouts behind him.

"Just wait, fag! You're dead when we catch you!"

"Right." Craig muttered to himself, though his panting destroyed the sarcastic edge. He wasn't scared of those losers. Their speed was no match for his adrenaline powered feet. Skidding into the wall next to the door, he wrenched it open, flipping off his pursuers as he slipped inside.

He was safer here. After the first time, when he had come home looking a little like a Picasso painting, his parents had shaken themselves out of their self-absorbency long enough to put the hanging threat of a lawsuit over Mr. Mackey's head.

If a teacher saw them attacking him, they had to help. They couldn't just turn away, or laugh and toss in an insult of their own. Not again.

Craig leaned against the concrete wall next to a bank of lockers, trying to catch his breath. It really was exercise, being chased around the school by homophobes. He counted himself lucky they hadn't been Clyde or Cartman this time and didn't have the muscle power to catch him outside. He had no protection at all out there.

Drops of rain trickled down the glass window across from him. He tracked them automatically with his eyes. The locker's metal hinges were freezing against his cheek.

At last he stirred. Lunch was halfway over and he hadn't even eaten anything.

He meandered over to his usual lunch table, sliding in between Wendy and an irate Bebe. Stan and Kenny were cuddling like the fags they were across from him. Not that Craig could really insult them for it, not when he was in the same general boat. People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.

These where his friends now. How the world turned.

"They get you?" Bebe asked, abandoning her argument with Wendy to acknowledge Craig. She got an ironic stare and a lifted finger for it.

"Not this time." He shrugged, turning his favorite finger on the rest of the lunchroom on principal. He knew those people. They would try to eat him given half a chance.

He was still tired from his run. Fear took a lot out of you. Setting his head down on the cool tabletop, he cautiously relaxed.

Ten minutes later the bell rang. Craig got up with the group and gathered his stuff. Bebe was staring confusedly out the window.

"What're you looking at?" Craig asked, following her line of sight out to the asphalt-covered front of the school. There was a small selection of picnic tables huddled in the middle. A puddle big enough to qualify as a small pond shone next to the leftmost table. A piece of soggy notebook paper floated in it.

"Nothing." Bebe shook herself and grabbed her bag. Craig shrugged at her insanity and followed her farther into the belly of the school.


a/n

trust me, Tweek is a lot more fucked up than he seems. so are Craig and Bebe. not Kenny and Stan though, i thought id give them a bit of a break. Mary's also pretty sane. but we'll see.

make the best of the intro you guys, it goes downhill from here :D