Craig's first thought upon waking up the following morning, was less of a thought, and more of a realization that his neck was broken. He pulled his torso from the grainy floor of the shower and snapped his elbows, (hypersensitivity of the joints ran in the family) and groaned in agonizing discomfort. Tweek's terrified screaming upon removal from the shower had left Craig all but pasted to the inside of the bathroom in anger towards the spaz, although he had to admit, the kid had determination. Even after the water had run from boiling to frigid, (his wish for an ice-cold shower evaporated after a grand total of roughly 3 seconds) He could still hear the insomniac's agonizing wails. Trying his best to completely avoid the situation he had ignorantly caused, he decided to park his skinny ass in the cramped shower for the night, forgetting completely the meeting he was supposed to be having with his new psychiatrist the following morning. Now that morning had come, the memory came rushing back along with the pain in his now-stiff neck. Although he had originally fallen asleep sitting up with his knees to his chin, he somehow wound up in the fetal position with his head awkwardly shoved in the bottom of the corner. He flung his neck hard to either side, listening to the loud cracks informing him that his head was quite literally in the right place, before standing and pulling his arms behind him and leaning back, waiting for the rest of his body to loudly snap into position. Craig didn't bother attempting to brush out his short, black hair or put on some cleaner clothes before unlocking the door and striding out of the bathroom and into the hallway as quickly as he could to avoid the angry shouts of a very frazzled Tweek, not bothering to stop and turn around when he heard nothing at all.

After patiently waiting at the front desk for the room number he was supposed to find, He was off down another hallway on the opposite end of the building. He was supposed to find a man named 'Dr Fletcher.' He seemed easygoing enough, claiming that Craig could show up whenever he woke up as long as it was before eleven. It didn't take too long to find the door leading to his office, as it was covered in crudely-drawn doodles of childish things in vibrant crayon and stuck out like a sore thumb.

He must have kids.

Craig knocked sharply on the glass, obscured completely by pieces of paper on the opposite side.

"Just a minute!"

A gruff but friendly voice called from inside. Craig could make out the quick shuffling of papers and opening and closing of a metal drawer before footsteps found their way to the door.

"You must be Craig Tucker. I've heard quite a lot about you, come on in."

The office seemed normal enough; scratchy gray carpet, light brown walls, computer and medication bottles strewn around. However, the entirety of the small room was coated in the same drawings Craig had noticed on the door.

"Have a seat Craig."

After being seated, Craig was surprised to find a stack of papers being shoved in his unsuspecting face.

"What's all this?"

"This is your file. I spent all of last night looking through it. I'm sure you've heard the reason behind placing you in a room with Mr. Tweak here?"

Craig's brows furrowed.

"What's that kid's real name?"

Dr. Fletcher chuckled and uncrossed his knees, running his fingers through his gray beard.

"His name is actually, Tweek Tweak. Quite interesting if you ask me."

"You're kidding."

Craig chose to believe that Dr. Fletcher was keeping the truth from him, 'patient confidentiality' or some shit.

"The reason why you're placed with him, since you never answered my question, is due to a similarity in symptoms and past traumas. Quite shockingly similar, actually."

So much for 'patient confidentiality.'

"No way. No fucking way in hell."

Craig was nothing like that fucking freak, hallucinations aside. No one would dare tell him otherwise.

"I probably shouldn't have let you know that, in all honesty. But I'm sure it couldn't hurt. Gimme a promise you won't do anything drastic with that deadly information?"

The doctor sent Craig a lopsided grin, the smallest hint of an apology in his eyes. He seemed to be kind, but hopelessly forgetful. That was the impression Craig was struck with, at least. He felt comfortable at least, with his sarcastic manner.

"I won't. But what does that have to do with me, exactly?"

Instead of answering the question, Fletcher responded with one of his own.

"Could you tell me what the symptoms you are suffering from are? Just to hear it one more time."

"Uh. Visual, tactile, and auditory hallucinations, irritability, trouble sleeping, delusions, trouble knowing if I'm dreaming or not I guess. Lack of appetite, social isolation, disorientation, chronic vertigo…I guess that's about it. This is what I've heard from other people. I don't think they're hallucinations."

Fletcher nodded, scribbling on a nearby notepad.

"Well, this is just to get the idea in your head, and by no means a diagnosis, but the things you're complaining of and that others have noticed in you, do match up pretty well with a specific illness that Mr. Tweak himself is dealing with."

Craig's stomach flipped over on itself in a rush of nausea.

"Have you ever heard of schizophrenia?"

o0o

The rest of the meeting had been a blur, Craig's mind in a daze. He barely managed to snap out of it as Kenny smacked his shoulder.

"Dude you look like you're gonna barf or something."

" I feel like it." Craig muttered, mostly to himself, as he pushed his lunch tray aside and set his forehead on the table.

"Are you gonna finish that?"

He sat across from Clyde, Stan and Kyle. He originally had wanted to eat lunch alone, but Kenny parked his scrawny ass next to his own, and motioned over half the fucking gang. As much as Craig dis-hated Kenny, he felt familiar bubbles of contempt in the pit of his stomach directed at the blond's extroverted attitude. He didn't complain however, making a scene and drawing attention to himself just wasn't in his nature. So he glanced behind him, at the other side of the cafeteria where the girls ward had lunch. He was met with the glare of a tall, androgynous girl with short black hair. He flipped her the bird. She held his gaze and mirrored his actions, before turning to wrap her arm around the skinnier blonde girl next to her. The blonde had her knees up to her chin, tugging on strands of her long, messy hair. She nuzzled into the neck of the noirette.

"What are you staring at bro. Your neck is doing this weird owl sort of thing right now it's freakin' me out."

"Clyde shut up…"

Stan mumbled, half-heartedly elbowing said boy in the ribs while holding down a staring contest with his untouched salad. Kenny was slowly sneaking food from Kyle's tray, as the ginger was too preoccupied with staring at Stan.

"Are all the girls lesbians or something?"

Craig always found himself asking these things without thinking through it. He didn't care if he offended anyone, he never did. But Clyde, unused to Craig's bluntness, snorted into his burrito.

"I dunno. We aren't supposed to speak with them."

Kyle answered, smacking Kenny's hand away from his potatoes.

"They all look either emo, or male."

Craig stated, popping a potato chip in his mouth.

"Except for that little blonde girl."

"I hope she's not a lesbian. She's pretty fucking cute."

Kenny said, smiling as he bit his lip and glanced over his shoulder.

Kyle smirked and poked at Kenny's chest with a long finger.

"What is it with you and twitchy blondes anyway? You seem to think Tweek is pretty adorable too."

"He is!"

Kenny insisted, tugging at the collar of his black t-shirt. At this point, Craig had drifted out of conversation and was beginning to zone out, barely noticing the table a few feet away where Leo, Eric and Token had been greeted by a nervous looking sociopath.

"Dude, what's Tweek doing down here."

Stan had completely turned his seat around, facing the table now being approached by a very exuberant Clyde. The very same Clyde who smacked his hand on the boy's shoulder and was leading him…Oh fuck no.

Craig stood up, tray in hand and started walking towards the trash bin, away from that mop-headed creep.

Jesus Christ, why does this shit always happen to me.

No sooner had he dumped his tray, than he felt a cold hand on his shoulder. Craig jumped and spun around, now face-to-neck with the exact person he was trying to avoid. He tried to abscond, but was blocked by a bony arm.

"C-Calm down! I j-j-just wanted to s-say sorry."

Tweek's brown eyes glittered with sadness, his toes knocking into each other in nervousness.

"Is that the whole reason you came down here?"

Craig raised an eyebrow at him, refusing to be phased by the boy's emotional freedom once again.

"Well, th-that…and I wanted to ask y-y-you if m-maybe you'd s-skip group to color with m-me again? I know you're going t-t-to say n-no, but I thought I sh-should ask. Maybe."

Craig had barely noticed how Tweek's height matched his own, the boy curled in on himself in fear and anticipation. He looked so frightened it was almost sad, how he braved the terror of briefly socializing just to ask his hateful roommate to color with him. Something in Craig's chest twisted, making him feel extremely uncomfortable. He very slowly nodded, watching Tweek's eyes grow wide in shock. He then felt himself being unwillingly pulled away by his hand, leaving the rest of the table to stare, open mouthed, as the two boys fled the cafeteria.

o0o

Tweek was smiling, wide as can be, the entire time he was pulling a dazed and confused Craig up the stairways and down the halls. He didn't want to take the elevator, "Too many risks." Once they arrived at the door to their room, Tweek opened the door for Craig, holding his arm out and bowing like a gentleman, despite the cheeky, ragged-toothed grin spread across his skinny face.

Craig punched him in the gut on the way in.

"I r-really am sorry about l-last night."

Tweek stated, rubbing his stomach like he was expecting a child.

"Why would you be sorry?"

Craig inquired. He wasn't stupid, he knew that Tweek couldn't control his fears. He didn't have much reason to apologize. If anyone did, it was Craig. But he wasn't about to stoop to that level. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to be here. Honestly, he couldn't even recall what was going through his head when he agreed to come back to the room anyway, although he was getting used to the idea that being around Tweek made him agree to things that he wouldn't under any other circumstances. Maybe Kenny was right. Maybe the kid was just a little bit cute. In a strictly pitiful way, of course.

"Because I annoyed you, a-and you got involved in m-my personal shit and I d-don't wanna drive you away and I'm s-s-sorry."

"It's fine dude just…stay out of the shower I guess. I need that."

"You d-don't look like use it much."

Tweek grinned happily, reaching under his mattress for his sketchbook and crayons. This time, he produced a few coloring pages as well. Craig socked him in the arm, producing a sideways smile.

"Y-You know, I've heard that when a boy punches a g-girl a lot, it means he likes her."

Craig punched him in the shoulder.

"You're r-really bad at this flirting thing, you know."

Craig cocked his eyebrow

"Don't you have to actually like someone in order to flirt with them?"

Tweek shrugged, beginning to color in a fish on the printed paper in front of him.

"W-Well I like y-you."

Craig's stomach did an involuntary flip.

"How?"

Tweek smiled softly before looking up at Craig.

"W-Well you're the only p-person that's ever told me off, a-and didn't t-treat me like something that n-needed to be taken care of…and you have p-pretty eyes."

Craig felt his face heat up as he watched the scrawny boy in front of him hide his embarrassed face in his crossed elbows, hands on his shoulders. A minute passed before Craig slowly picked up a maroon crayon and began to color in the designs on his previously untouched paper.

"You have pretty eyes too."

Tweek's head shot up from his arms, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. He smiled a little, finally gaining the courage to go back to his coloring. Craig's body felt light, his mind empty of hateful thoughts if only for a few blissful moments, disturbed by a light poke to his nose. He followed the line of the finger to look Tweek in the eye, his head tilted in confusion.

"Why d-don't you ever smile?"

Craig shrugged.

"I guess I never really had a reason to."

"What w-was your home l-like?"

Craig paused in thought, before answering carefully.

"My mother was a spineless, ignorant bitch, and my father was an alcoholic asshole. I guess it was pretty shittastical, but they didn't care about me enough to notice all the shit I smoked in my room."

Tweek laughed. Craig wished he didn't notice how innocent his smile was, and how badly it made him want to make Tweek laugh again.

"Y-you didn't have m-many close friends, d-did you."

"Nope. Just my pipe and my guinea pig."

Tweek laughed again. Craig's chest fluttered.

"You don't s-seem like the f-fuzzy animal t-type."

"You would think so, huh."

"H-Hey! You're smiling!"

Craig reached up a hand to poke at his face. Sure enough, a wide smile lay plastered under his nose. He dropped his hand, smile spreading into a full-blown grin.

"C-Craig?"

Tweek suddenly dropped his crayon, moving his knees apart until he sat cross-legged. Craig looked up at him.

"C-c-can I hold y-your hand?"

Craig's breath completely stopped-halted in its tracks in his throat. Something fluttered in his hollow chest, and he felt his cheeks flush uncharacteristically as he silently grasped Tweek's large, bony hand in his. Tweek bit the side of his lip, smiling shyly as he grabbed Craig's other hand. Craig let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, exhaling shakily as Tweek slowly leaned forwards, placing the smallest of kisses on the tip of the raven's long nose.

He snapped. In a single moment of flushed anticipation, Craig released his hands from the boy's grip before grabbing the sides of his face and pulling it towards his own, kissing him hard. Tweek let out a muffled shriek, but didn't back away. He instead wound his arms around Craig's neck and pulled him closer, allowing Craig's tongue to trace along the edges of his pointy teeth. He couldn't stop his body from shaking, even as Tweek ran his long fingers through his short hair. Even as Tweek somehow found his way onto Craig's lap. Even as those hands were now running under his shirt, nails digging into Craig's pale skin. Craig couldn't stop the animalistic growl emerging from his throat as the blond pulled his lips from his, only to reattach themselves at his collar bone. He tossed his head back, breath erratic.

"S-So how long have you b-been schizophrenic."

Smooth. Real fucking smooth.

Tweek suddenly lifted his head to look Craig in the eye, his own wide with shock.

"W-What?"

"The…the doctor told me. He said it was why we ended up in the same room. Because I guess I might have it too."

Tweek shot off of Craig's lap, turning away and threading his hands through his hair.

"G-God n-n-no. I'm not c-crazy! I'M NOT CRAZY!"

"T-Tweek! Calm down!"

The boy hunched over and spun around to face Craig, lips slightly swollen. He spoke in a whisper.

"Please don't let them t-tell you you're crazy too. I promise you're not…y-you can see what they can't."

Craig put his hands on Tweek's shaking shoulders, pausing to look him in the face before bringing him in to a tight hug. The blond's eyes began to well up, tears sliding silently down his ashen cheeks before he could stop them. He responded by burying his face in Craig's neck, who began to back up slowly until he was sitting on his bed with Tweek on his lap. Despite his monstrous height, the boy couldn't have weighed more than 100 pounds. He really was quite tiny.

Craig unhooked Tweek's fingers from his unruly hair, petting it down and letting the boy wrap his arms around his waist as he sobbed into Craig's shoulder. He couldn't believe this was happening. After being sexually abused by his father his entire life, Craig had tried his hardest to avoid any kind of romantic attraction towards anyone. Especially freaky looking kids he found in a mental hospital. God this was fucked up, but Tweek clearly needed someone. And if Craig was anything, he was a person to take care of those he had no one else. A shield, for lack of a better word. His only real purpose was to protect others. And as the psychopath in his arms whimpered softly, rage rose in his chest. How could anyone let this poor boy get to the state he was in? He was so kindhearted and…adorable. Yes. Craig could admit it now. His innocent nature and wide eyes left him speechless. What kind of parents would abandon such a child in a place like this? He held the boy tighter, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his nose in Tweek's long, coffee-scented hair. This was beyond crazy. He wasn't going to lie to himself, he felt a strong pull towards this wilted, ignored boy. He couldn't deny it any more. The more he tried, the worse it affected him. He would never admit to anybody how much of himself he saw in Tweek. He felt he was holding his own inner child, comforting the wounded, long abandoned part of himself that used to make him happy. His own abused innocence.

He didn't try to hide the tears falling from his eyes. He kissed the top of Tweek's head gently, momentarily enjoying the smell of coffee before the boy's head shot up and captured Craig's lips in a kiss. Something in his stomach fluttered, only for a second before Tweek pulled away, and his face found a home against a startled Craig's chest.

Craig lifted his thumb and brushed away a few stray tears from the side of the blond's face. It was when both boys found peace searching each other's gaze, that the door flung open, slamming against the wall, revealing a very terrified Clyde. Tweek screamed, flinging himself from Craig's lap, the latter whom scurried to the side of the bed furthest from the door in fear. When Clyde spoke, he was gasping for air.

"You…have to…leave. Code gray…front desk…Kyle…blood…ohmygod…"

With that, the disheveled brunette turned and fled back down the hallway. Tweek turned to Craig, hazel eyes wide in worry.

"I guess we'd better go."

Craig shoved his hands in his pockets and calmly began down the hall, Tweek stepping on his heels. He pretended not the notice the feminine screams and gruff shouting from the next hall over. He began to notice a brown trail following the path they were taking. The noises grew louder as they approached the front desk, where a nurse ushered them along with Token and Leo into the room Craig had his first group meeting in.

The first thing He noticed was Stan, alone in the center of the floor. His left arm hung at a funny angle, shoulder clearly ripped from it's socket. His face was coated in drying blood. A large 'X' was carved into his bare chest. His wrists were sliced open and leaking crimson on the floor…The cause of the trails. The noirette was on his knees, staring blankly towards the door. Leo shrieked, turning tail and fleeing the room immediately, nearly running into a certain dirty-blond-haired miscreant.

"Marsh!"

Kenny raced forwards as fast as he could, sliding onto his knees and wrapping his arms around a blood-coated Stan, clearly not giving anything relevant to a shit about the now-stained blue t-shirt he was wearing.

"Ky…Kyle…"

That was all Stan could manage to say before his throat closed on him. His body shook once, as silent tears ran down his cheeks, fabricating lines through the thick blood.

Watching Stan cry was creepy, to say the least. He held his poker face through the gasps and chokes, his eyes remaining open and expressionless. Kenny held him all the while, slowly rocking forwards and back.

Tweek peeked around Craig's shoulder, biting his lip. He quickly grabbed Craig's hand, squeezing so tight Craig could feel the blood get stuck in his fingers. A heavy silence hung in the air as Eric, the last boy, shoved himself through the doorway and onto a couch, squeaking in protest.

"The fuck happened to you?"

Jesus. And Craig thought he was blunt. Kenny whipped his head around, giving Cartman a glare capable of melting the ice caps. However, the stare-down was broken by a deep scream, and the muffled thump of running feet. In unison, the boys turned to the left wall-made completely out of glass-just in time to spot a certain blood-soaked ginger wrestle out of the grasp of two beefy security guards.

Craig had seen a lot of frightening things in his life. Hell, he's seen all of the 'Saw' movies, and not even that could have prepared him for the sight he was enduring right now.

Kyle's forearm was in his hand. The appendage had been snapped off at the elbow, and was leaking blood, making new trails on the floor. He dodged the security guards with ease, laughing maniacally all the while. His green eyes were opened wide, clearly amused at the feeble attempts to contain him. He giggled like a psychopathic schoolgirl as he ran between the rooms with unimaginable adrenaline-fueled speed, taking great pleasure in smacking the guards with his disembodied hand. It was the probably most inappropriate time…ever…for Tweek to stifle a laugh into the hand that wasn't occupied by Craig's

"Dude…"

Kenny was otherwise speechless, even Cartman couldn't think of a witty remark. Stan, however, threw himself out the door with more speed than Craig thought him to have.

"KYLE! KYLE WHAT DID YO-"

Stan was quickly grabbed by a guard, a hand around his mouth. His dislocated arm snapped loudly against the strain, causing Stan to yelp in pain. Kyle turned, letting his guard down just long enough to be tackled by security, feet slipping on the blood-soaked tiles, begging for traction. Both boys flailed helplessly, screaming out to each other in vain as they were dragged apart. Kyle lost grip on his arm, which fell to the floor with an undignified thump, distracting the guard around him just enough for Kyle to jab him in the jaw with the bone extending from his nubby arm-stump. The man yelled in protest before pulling him through a metal doorframe, screaming out for his best friend. Just before he was out of view from the window, Stan twisted his body hard against the thick arms encasing him. The pressure ripped one of cuts on his chest a few inches longer, blood pouring like a waterfall. He gasped and screamed in pain, before biting the guard's arm. He was thrown to the floor. A loud crack reverberated through the building as his head hit the tiles. The screaming stopped instantly. Then the blood came.