South Park © Matt & Trey

I watched this week's episode drunk and it fucked me up so hard. But I loved it hahaha. I like when they use real actors to portray the kiddies.

And with that, everything changes. I don't know why. I think it's sad but it's like Craig needed me to hurt him. He hasn't pushed me away since he broke down. In fact, it's quite the opposite. He's been almost… clingy? Not that I mind.

After all that's happened I still want to fuck him. No… I don't want to fuck him. I want to make him feel good. I want to please him in the sheets. Make love and all that gay shit.

But instead, we're here at a party. It's loud. The sounds of laughter are ringing in my ears. All these happy sounds…

Craig looks amiss amongst the crowd of smiling people. He looks exhausted as ever as he stands by Jason's side. I decide to approach them. I won't let Jason continue to screw with him.

"Hey," I cut in. "What's going on?"

"Jason owes me something from a little while ago," Craig says angrily. "He won't pay up."

"Drugs?" I assume with a sigh.

Craig sniffs, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He probably has the worst case of nasal drips. Jason throws an arm around him and says, "I gave you your drugs, Craig. It's not my fault they're already gone. Pace yourself, junky."

"I fucking ruined myself for you," Craig says shakily.

Jason chuckles. "Yeah, that was funny. You were fucked out of your mind."

"That wasn't funny, Jason!" Craig screams, voice cracking. "It's… It's rape! You're ruining me!"

And just like that the room falls silent. No more laughing. No more talking. No more singing along to the upbeat dance music. Everyone just stands still and stares at the volatile mess that is Craig Tucker.

"You liked it," Jason says in a low growl. "Everyone that saw you can back me up. You fucking liked it. The fact that you weren't sober doesn't change that."

Craig doesn't hover. With that, he is gone. As is my right and duty, I follow him.

"You're not ruined," I tell him quietly. "Jason is a piece of shit for doing what he did and everyone who saw it and didn't do anything is just as shitty. Me, included. I'm really fucking sorry, Craig."

He doesn't respond to that. "Hey…" he murmurs. When I think he's about to tell me to leave him alone, he says the opposite. "Can I stay at your place tonight?"

I offer him a smile and tell him, "Of course."

The walk is silent apart from the music that can still be heard as we make our way down the road. We stroll past Craig's house without a word. I can't help but wonder what his parents are like. He doesn't talk about them much. I wonder if they care about him… if they care that he wants to die… if they care that he's out of control and only getting worse.

It doesn't take us much longer to get to my place. I swing open the door and announce, "I'm home!" only to be greeted with complete silence. I let out a snort and say, "Naturally…"

"Are your parents gone a lot?" Craig asks me.

"Yeah," I admit. "So are Kevin and Karen. I think Karen hates being here and Kevin bounces around a lot." A pause. "What are your parents like?"

He shrugs. "Thomas is fine… so is Laura."

"Why do you call your parents by their first names?" I wonder. I've heard him do it a few times. "If I did that my parents would skin me and tell me not to be so damn disrespectful."

"I'm adopted," Craig states flatly. "Ever since I found out, it's been weird calling them Mom and Dad."

"What?" I ask stupidly.

"I'm adopted, idiot," he reiterates. "They aren't my real parents. My real parents fucked off and left me when I was two. I thought everyone knew… A blond and a fuckin' ginger can't have a black haired kid. Y'know what the most fucked up part is? They never told me. I learned about it in science class a few years ago when we were learning about genetics and shit. I went home and I confronted them and they admitted it."

"Shit," I deadpan. "Does it bother you?"

He looks thoughtful for a minute before shaking his head. "I don't really care. I used to, but know I can't be fucked."

"I see," I murmur, but I have a feeling he's lying.

We go upstairs and move into my room. It's nothing special, but it's my sanctuary. I head straight to my closet and try and find Craig something to wear. I pull out a clean t-shirt and a clean pair of sweatpants. I'm an inch taller than him, but these will fit him just fine. When I turn around, he's standing in the center of the room, looking like he's surveying the area.

"Here," I say, handing him the change of clothes.

He murmurs a quiet, "Thanks," and then reaches for the button on his jeans.

I turn away again and grab myself some pajamas, briskly changing into them. When I'm done, Craig is dressed. He has his arms wrapped around himself in what looks like an unconscious gesture. "You okay?" I ask him.

He nods. "Fine…" A pause. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because I want to," I say simply. "You deserve a friend who isn't going to sit back and watch you fuck yourself over."

He lets out a cut laugh before murmuring the name, "Jason…"

"He's a terrible person," I say surely and Craig doesn't deny it. He nods his head lazily. I kill the lights and instead turn on the dim lamp that sits next to my mattress on the floor. After stretching out my limbs, I sit down. "Gonna join me?" I offer.

He approaches slowly and cautiously, as if he's gaging my movements. He sits on my lap and stares at me with a blank look. I want to reach forward and hug him, but I won't. I need him to make the first move. I don't want to force anything onto him. I guess that's a stupid thing to say after I beat him up… "Hey," I start quietly. "How are you comfortable being so close to someone who kicked the shit out of you?"

"Shut up," he whispers. I guess it's something he doesn't want to think about, but perhaps, for Craig, it's always been like this. He accepts abuse.

"You got a hard on for trash or something?" I ask.

"Probably," he admits softly. He hooks his feet around my waist and his arms around my neck, pressing his face into my shoulder. I rub my hands up and down his back. For a few minutes we sit like this in complete silence and it feels nice. It feels nice to be touching him like this. I feel like I can keep him safe if he's nearby. "Kenny…?" he says my first name in a slow, questioning tone.

"What's up?" I ask, still rubbing his back.

"Let's have sex," he suggests nonchalantly and I feel my dick start to harden in my pants at the mere suggestion of it.

"Craig…" I start, but he cuts me off.

"You want to… I want to…" he murmurs. He lifts his head and stares at me with another unreadable expression before moving forward and touching his mouth to mine. His lips part and our tongues clash. When we separate, he lets go of me and removes his t-shirt. "It's fine if we do this," he decides, leaning backwards and lying on the mattress. I hover over him. I don't ask him if he's sure of any of that shit. I know he'd only berate me for it. So instead, I reach for the hem of the pants he just put on, pulling them down along with his shorts. I touch the smooth pale skin on his stomach and thighs. He feels warm beneath my fingers.

He really does have a beautiful body. I feel like I can appreciate it more now since he's not on display. It's just us here. I'm slow and careful, but he won't look at me. I don't know why.

"Craig," I whisper his name when my dick is halfway in. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he says hoarsely, staring off into empty space before closing his eyes.

The following day, Craig is gone before I even wake up. No note, no text. I let it slide this time. I'll go find him later on. Instead, I go to Kyle's and get to do a little research for me. He's good at this kind of shit – hacking and whatnot. I sit in his room and wait while he clicks away on his laptop and soon enough he says, "Here we are."

"You found Craig's birth parents?" I ask, surprised at how little time it took him.

"Yeah," he responds. "The adoption agency only has their names and last known address… but it's in Denver." He pauses and opens his desk drawer, grabbing paper and a pencil. He writes down the address and hands it to me.

"Thanks," I murmur, pocketing it. I lean closer to the screen, squinting. "What the hell kind of names are they…?"

"Armenian," Kyle informs me. "Perhaps they were immigrants."

"Hm," I muse. "Craig doesn't seem to know anything about them. He might just want to go on pretending they don't exist… but I'm still going to bring it up."

Kyle simply nods, closing his laptop. "You like Craig, huh?" he asks.

I can't help but smile – though with bitter sentiment. "Yeah," I admit. "I really do…"

"He's a really messed up guy," Kyle adds. "I mean… I know most people are a little messed up. Even I'm a little messed up… but Craig… He's like…" he trails off. "There are a lot of fucked up rumors going around about him. People are saying Jason drugged and raped him in front of a bunch of people and no one did anything."

I can't help but cringe at that. "I know," I say with a sigh. "I was there."

Kyle grimaces at that. "That's seriously fucked up... He should get Jason arrested."

"He'd never go for it," I mumble, wishing he would.

"Well," Kyle murmurs, "Good luck."

I nod my head and decide to change the subject. "Speaking of romance… Eric is into you. He has been for a long fucking time."

Kyle doesn't look surprised. After a brief pause, he says, "I know… I mean… I always had a feeling. He's easier to be around these days. I mean… we spend a lot more time together now. Stan is always busy with Wendy, which is fine, I suppose. He's happy. Eric was there for me when Stan decided to grow absent. He didn't give me enough time to feel lonely. If I wanted to, I could lean forward and kiss him and then he'd know how I feel. He'll never get the words out. I feel bad for keeping him on a string, but I'm not yet sure what I want."

"It's fine to take your time," I tell him. "It's not like Eric is going to be confessing anytime soon. He's kind of awkward about that kind of shit. That's why he's such an asshole."

Kyle chuckles. "Yeah, that much has stayed the same."

After visiting Kyle, I go to the Tucker residence. Thomas opens the door and greets me with a, "Hello."

"Hello," I return, smile in place. "Is Craig in?"

"In his bedroom," Thomas says, allowing me inside. I take off my shoes and he walks me upstairs, adding, "He might be asleep."

"This time of day?" I ask.

Thomas gives me an unreadable look and says, "He sleeps a lot."

Oh," I respond softly.

He opens his son's bedroom door and it's dark. Inside, Craig is just a lump in the middle of his bed. "Craig," Thomas says his name.

"Go," Craig moans, burrowing deeper beneath his blankets.

"You have a guest," his father tells him.

Craig lets out a loud sigh and sits up. "Oh…" he says when he spots me.

"Hey," I hold up a hand. "Sorry to just drop by like this."

"It's fine," he says. He doesn't look upset to see me, so I'll take it as a good sign.

I thank Thomas before walking into Craig's room. When I hear the door shut, I climb into bed with him. "Are you depressed?" I ask tactlessly.

He gives me a perturbed look. "No…? Why?"

"Sorry," I say, leaning against one of his pillows. "Your father said you slept a lot, so I just wondered… Plus, Clyde mentioned you take pills."

"Sometimes," he corrects.

"Y'know, some illnesses just get worse without medication," I remind him.

He makes a face at me. "This is none of your damn business."

"So, what do you take?" I pry, making it my business.

"A mood stabilizer," he mutters, lying back down.

"Ah," I whisper, lying down with him. That's some serious shit.

"I take it sporadically," he admits. "I'm not supposed to because it fucks me up, but I like cocaine more. If you take cocaine while on lithium, it doesn't feel as good."

"I see…" I murmur grimly.

"You probably think I'm really stupid, hm?" he asks, shifting closer until our noses are nearly touching.

"No," I promise, putting a hand on his waist and letting it slip beneath his shirt. "I guess I just don't understand… but I want to. I like it when you talk to me."

"I still think it's strange," he admits vaguely. "You took an interest in me seemingly out of nowhere. Why is that?"

"I like you. I've always wanted to get to know you." It's a vague sentiment.

"Why now, though?" he pries further. "I don't mean to sound insecure… but I want to know if this is real or if it's just another game."

"It's not," I swear.

"People like to play with me," he says offhandedly. "I guess I make it easy."

I lean forward and peck him on the lips. "Don't think about things like that," I tell him softly. "I'm not playing with you and this is definitely not a game. Truth is, I had a dream about you. That's why I approached you."

"A dream?" he asks. "Like, what? A dirty dream?"

Of course his mind would go there. "No," I say with a short laugh. "It was… a sad dream, actually. I watched you die."

"How did I die?" he asks.

"You took a hammer to the head," I admit to him. Christ, this conversation is getting macabre. I want to change the subject, but I know Craig wouldn't let me.

He's quiet for a moment until wondering, "Are you worried it'll happen?"

"Yeah," I admit. "Would you believe me if I told you my dreams came true before?"

"Maybe," he says, "and if I didn't, I'd still humor you."

I can't help but smile at that. "Fair enough," I decide.

"So, tell me about it," he requests.

And I do. I tell him from start to finish every gory detail of that dream. I tell him about the creepy, old hick. I tell him about Skeeter leaving them alone. I tell him about the sex and then what came next. I tell him about his gruesome death. I tell him how he got found. I tell him about his parents falling apart. The entire time, Craig looks thoughtful. "So, yeah…" I finish.

"Oh, wow," he says airily. "So, that's my future."

"Yeah," I whisper, hoping this will change things and hoping he actually believes me.

It's like he shattered a mirror but instead of seven years of bad fortune he got an eternity.

I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing. It's noon, much to my dismay.

I grab my phone and stare at the caller ID. "Craig?" I answer.

"They're fighting again," comes Craig's familiar voice and hell, it's relieving to hear. "They're so fucking loud and I really need to smoke but I don't want to light up while they're screaming at one another. Thomas would throw a fit if he smelled anything and then they'd both gang up on me."

Fuck, I wish my parents fought like that. It'd be a welcome relief for a kid like me, who is too used to physical violence. But Craig isn't used to it, so for him this is really bad and I guess I should be sensitive. "Want me to come over?" I offer.

"No," he says.

"Do you want to come over?"

"No," he says again.

"What do you want, then?" I ask. "If I'm able to, I'll give it to you."

"Just, like… talk," he requests. "You're good at that."

"All right," I say softly. I think for a minute, trying to figure out what it is I'm supposed to be talking about. Fuck it. "Craig," I say his name. "What does this make us?"

"I don't know," he whispers.

I change the subject after that, talking lightly about some weird porn I saw recently.

Tomorrow night, I'm at Craig's. He lets me in and I wait in the lobby as he grabs a sweater from upstairs.

I can hear voices coming from the living room, so I decide to poke my head in. First face I see is Skeeter's. The award for the world's worst uncle goes to him. I still can't forget how he sat around and watched his brother's son get groped by some ugly redneck. If Thomas knew, I can't help but wonder what he would do.

Nonetheless, as I wait for Craig I decide to move into the room and greet everyone. "Hi," I say as I'm greeted by a sporadic murmur of hellos. I nearly choke on my own spit when I see Craig's potential murderer sitting in the corner of the room with a beer can in his hand.

Fortunately, Craig arrives before I can open my big mouth and say something stupid. He puts a hand on my shoulder and nods for me to follow him out. We slip on our shoes and leave through the front door.

Once we're gone, I decide to ask questions. "Who was the man in there with the moustache?" I whisper weakly.

"Carl Denkins…?" Craig asks. "He owns a farm on the outskirts of town."

"Avoid him," I say pleadingly. "If you don't, he'll kill you."

Craig looks taken aback. "He… What?"

"He'll kill you," I say sternly. "He'll kill you and he'll dump your body. Please, Craig. Trust me. You don't want to experience what he has in store for you."

He scoffs lightly before letting out a chuckle. "Right… okay. Is this about your dream or whatever?"

"Yes," I say in a firm tone and it makes me realize he probably didn't believe me. I put an arm around him and keep him close, feeling wary. There's no way in hell I'll be leaving him alone any time soon. It's quiet again and I can hear Craig sniffling. "What's wrong?" I immediately ask.

"I'm not crying," he says pointedly. "I have drips."

"Oh," I mutter. From all the cocaine. "Y'know…" I murmur, "You should –"

"Stop," he interrupts airily, cutting me of. "I should stop, right? I should stop because you care and this is hard on you because it's hard on me. I deserve better, right? I'm so fucking sick of hearing people say that… I can't stand it. They have no fucking idea…"

"You're not a bad person, Craig," I tell him sincerely.

He lets out a cut laugh. "Yeah, I am," he says, shaking me off and turning away. "I mean… I must be. I was abandoned."

"You were a fucking baby…" I reason softly. He has his back turned to me, but I can see his shoulders shaking.

He lets out another bitter laugh. "Well, maybe my parents had dreams like yours. Maybe they could tell my future too and they didn't like what they saw so they got out while they still could."

"No," I tell him surely. "That's not what happened." He sniffs again and I offer, "I can take you to a hospital."

"Oh, yes, please," he says cynically. "Take me where I can be unconscious and naked."

I don't push. Instead, I just relent. I throw my arm around him again and we continue walking. Hell, I'm really falling for him. How unconventional.

"Let me take you out," I request.

He shrugs his shoulders. "Maybe," he murmurs. "I'll think about it."

We end up walking to my house. There isn't much to do, so we go to my room and settle on my mattress. I bring my hands up and stretch, causing him to flinch away. I give him a strange look and he immediately apologizes. "Dude, I wasn't gonna hit you…" I say.

"Sorry," he apologizes again.

I wave dismissively, telling him it's fine. "So, want to watch a movie?"

"No," he murmurs.

"Want to… uh…" I pause. "Take a nap?" I let out a short laugh. "Sorry, there's not much to do here."

"I'm going to the bathroom," he decides, standing up.

"Want me to come?" I ask.

He gives me a dull look. "No. I think I can manage to pee on my own."

I lean against my pillow and watch him leave the room. I wish I could make him smile… or laugh… But all I seem to do is bore him.

He returns a few minutes later and stares at me, arms crossed as he leans in the doorway. He does this for many long moments and it makes me feel like I'm being judged until, out of the blue, he asks, "Why do you like me?"

"Come here and I'll tell you," I say, holding out my arms.

He flicks the lights off and approaches me slowly, sitting on my lap and leaning into me just like last time. I hold him close and I can't help but feel like we fit together perfectly. "No one's ever liked me like this before," he confesses. "I don't know whether I should believe that you're being sincere or if I should maybe doubt you."

I run my hands up his back and through his hair. Everything he's saying makes me want to sigh, but I don't. "I genuinely like you," I tell him. "I mean… yeah, I've always thought you were a really attractive guy. They were thoughts from afar though. I never really got to know you… but now I have and I'm glad. You look sweet when you smile. I want to make you smile. I want to make you laugh… and be happy. You deserve to be happy."

"Do I…?" he wonders quietly.

"You're a good person," I promise. "You're just a little lost right now. It's fine. Life is… a pretty tiresome journey. It's okay to get a little lost sometimes. You'll find your way. I mean, that's what life is all about when you think about it." And I guess it's fucking sad that sometimes there are people who never find their way. They give up. I don't want Craig's life to end on such a bitter note.

He makes a soft, noncommittal sound before slumping against me. I lie down, bringing him with me. He sniffles again and I find myself wondering if he is high right now. Maybe that's what his bathroom break was for. Nonetheless, I can't bring myself to ask. I just want to believe he's sober and we're sharing this moment together and everything is fine. So, we just lie here together and soon he falls asleep. I watch him drool in my arms, smiling slightly because everything he does is cute as hell.