I lied a couple days ago about two posts in one day, my friend Hailey got me RPing Craistophe (Craig/Christophe) and then I started drawing and time flew out the window. SO SORRY! D: I shalt not lie any longer.

Moving on, drama llama is in the house, guys! Things get heated up, so get your #1 foam fingers and choose a team! Which teams? You'll find out, but I think you can guess.

Warning: This chapter contains lots of swearing and gay and violence and has a lot less dialogue than just writing so it might get boring. You've been warned!

Lyrics!

Will I ever get to where I'm going
If I do will I know when I'm there
If the wind blew me in the right direction. Yeah
Would I even care
I would.

-Incubus, Nowhere Fast

What do you do when someone collapses in a heap of sick, crying, Jewish sadness right in front of you? 'Cause Craig didn't know, but it happened. With nothing much in mind to do, he did what he could think of: take Kyle home to his own house, even if it meant ditching school, and comfort him as much as an emotionally-challenged teenager could. It wasn't all that much, but it seemed to cheer Kyle up. He tried not stressing over the fact that the house was filled with Stars of David. After listening to Kyle for a while, he finally spoke.

"You sound like you have a lot on your shoulders. You should really talk about this to more people." Craig didn't consider the internet as 'people', really, which was the only help it sounded like Kyle was receiving outside of Stan. He said one thing, and now he was out of advice for that topic. Next?

"You're right...this is helping, though..."

"It is?"

"Well, yeah. I guess." To Kyle's declaration, Craig gave a floored look. He helped someone?

"Oh, well...good...then. I wouldn't want to be speaking to someone who didn't care." He pretended like he knew that he'd just helped him.

"I feel like that with Stan..."

"You should punch him." Craig's reflex-of-an-answer came out before he could cover his mouth, and he just looked at Kyle like the boy had killed all his dreams. This got a laugh in return.

"Craig!"

"Sorry."

"Whatever!" Kyle punched Craig on the arm lightly. "Thanks, Craig. You know, you're pretty nice-"

"No I'm not, don't go telling people I'm a therapist or something!" The very slightest look of worry crossed Craig's face when he stood in defense, making Kyle sputter out another titter. "What?"

"Nothing, you're making me laugh!"

"I hope so, friends are supposed to do that. But I wasn't being funny."

"Huh?"

"Well, I don't think I was being funny..."

"No, the other thing. We're friends?"

"I thought so..." Craig looked at the floor, embarrassment heating up not only his neck and ears but just about his whole body.

"You do?"

"What, you think I tell strangers that I like the gym teacher?"

"So cute..."

"Ah, yes... but any ways, yeah, I'd say we're friends."

"Yeah, I'd say so too." It felt like admitting your love for someone. "Thanks for everything, Craig."

"No prob."

Stan was fuming with anger, and no one could figure out why. He barreled though halls, gave grunts as responses, and didn't look at people in the eye. Eventually, Wendy stopped him at his locker after school.

"Stan," she wore a frown, but Stan's topped it. "What's wrong with you? You're too uptight today."

"Kyle," Stan hissed. "He's being a fucking prick. He acts like we're dating and gets his fucking thong screwed up his ass just 'cause I don't tell him that I came to school without him."

"Ugh, what a fag."

"No fucking kidding! Then he storms out of the school with his new faggy friend Craig Tucker. Why the hell should I pick him up? He isn't my responsibility. It's just a fucking ride to school, and he's acting like the world's going to come to a fucking halt! I'm getting pretty fucking sick of his shit!"

"I would be, too." Wendy stepped back to allow Stan room to close his locker, and he let out a sigh. One of those sighs that declares that whatever funk you were in has passed.

"Wendy, how do you make me so happy so quickly?"

"It's a girl thing." Wendy grabbed the collar of Stan's jacket, pulling him down into a quick kiss. "Come on, let's go to your place, okay? You need some cool-down time."

"Talk about it."

At first, Kyle accepted the face that Stan talked to him a lot less in the past couple weeks. In fact, not at all. He'd talk to him only when it was required in school, and he sounded very away, like his body was there but his mind was running out in the hallways screaming Hallelujah. But it got worse.

It got to the point where they were so lost from each other that they'd developed new rings of friends; at least this was the case for Stan. Kyle just had Craig. Tweek, Jimmy, and Clyde had all come to grow on him, but he still talked to Craig the most. Stan was now hanging out with bad people: jocks, druggies, alcoholics, party-goers, et cetera. Stan himself was getting drunk on weekend, having an affair with Bebe behind Wendy's back, and Kyle was pretty sure he saw him get high behind a Jewel Osco the other day. It was worrying Kyle greatly, but it wasn't as if he could tell Stan to stop. Stan wouldn't even talk to him for projects any more. He requested a different partner and claimed that distractions were stopping him from his work.

Things were looking better in other aspects, though! He and Craig had gotten fairly close, and they were on FaceBook every night, talking. They went out around town and even to the city sometimes on weekends and lingered in the bandroom to talk or play together after class had ended. With summer approaching, everyone was itching for vacations and short clothes, so the two had gone shopping a couple times and planned out fake vacation spots.

Kyle had also gotten better about his medications, diet, and exercising habits. He looked healthier, but he was losing weight very fast. Even with medications, he was getting sicker, and the doctors weren't trying to keep up. They expected him to be dead about a year ago, but Kyle clung onto life, so they didn't bother. His medications had been the same for almost six months, and one of them canceled out another and gave him terrible side effects. For Stan's sake, though they didn't talk, he took them any ways.

This was all good, but Kyle wasn't completely sure he liked the fade into another lifestyle. Stan had become a nuisance to try and be friends with, but he was still loyal to him like a dog. He did everything Stan would've expected of him, despite hypocrisy. He didn't drink, do drugs, he did his homework, took his pills, ate, exercised...he was being good. Stan was not. It was okay though, he'd do any thing to get Stan back. He missed him so much it hurt sometimes; a literal pain sunk him into wherever he sat or stood.

It hurt him to know that Stan didn't care, too. Stan was avoiding him like a plague, and it was a bit of a depressant for Kyle. To make matters worse, Craig apparently trusted him so much that he shared two very startling experiences with Kyle in a simple game of truth or dare that Kyle wished he hadn't. He liked Craig, but he wasn't ready for promises or devotions.

"I've been 'in the closet' since somewhere around 8th grade. I still kinda deny the fact that I'd rather stare at a magazine with guys in panties than Playboy." Craig had mumbled that night. It was a Saturday, so he'd been staying over. Later on, Kyle asked if Craig had any illnesses of his own. He didn't know the difference between 'disease', 'sickness', and 'illness', to be honest, so he used the generic word. Craig's answer baffled him into a complete stop of all thoughts. "Depression," Craig said bluntly. "I was actually hospitalized for suicide attempts my Freshman year."

What can you say to that?

Kyle managed to make it through that night emotionally-unscathed, and was doing just fine now. The information given was a slight burden, but he reminded himself that this meant that the most quiet and secretive kid in school trusted him in saying that.

"Kyle?" The teacher's voice pulled Kyle out of his daydream.

"Huh? Oh, wha?"

"Do you know what we're talking about?"

"Oh, uh, no, ma'am. Sorry." Kyle looked at the paper on his desk, lacking notes from the lesson, then scribbled on it. The day went on slowly, but when the final period of the day came and went, it freaked him out. Stan wasn't there that day, even if he was present for their first two classes.

The next day, Stan wasn't even in those classes. In fact, the only class Stan was in was band. Kyle had to know what was going on, so he came to Stan's band locker before even Stan got there.

"Stan," He put a hand on the locker so Stan couldn't open it. Stan just shoved it off, glaring now. "Please, God, what's wrong? You haven't talked to me in day-"

"Do I always have to talk just to you?"

"No, but you don't have to ignore me! You switched your schedule, too?"

"I couldn't concentrate." Stan pulled the saxophone case out, slamming the locker shut and giving the redhead a hard look. "There was a distraction." Craig had walked in just about then, and paused mid-step when he saw Stan looking angrily at Kyle. He didn't want to intervene just yet, but he was prepared to.

"Stan, no, don't do this...!"

"Do what? Live my life how I want? You're not the only person here, Kyle! I want to go live up my senior year, and you for some reason can't accept that. So fine, I just have to change it! I've given my life up for you for two years, Kyle. Two years! Most people can't give up two seconds. And you're being a total brat about me wanting a weekend off! Then you blew it up into some cluster-fuck. So fuck off, faggot!" Stan shoved Kyle, who was shell-shocked, out of his way with a hard push to his chest.

"...You don't mean it..."

"I do! Get out of my face, you little turd!" Stan sadly picked up on his sister's way of talking. "I have music to play, and 'stupid fuckin' Jews' aren't on my agenda of things to acknowledge today."

"Hey!" Craig ran to stand by Kyle's side. Kyle couldn't move, he was simply too shaken to do much any thing other than breathe and look at Stan. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"What's yours? He's just going to use you like the little fag he is, then ditch you and blame his life's problems on you once you decide to take a break for once in your life!"

"He didn't blame it on you, shithead!"

"Guys, stop." Kyle forced himself to say the words, but they came out without air and were flat. Stan had already dropped his case, as well, and pushed up his sleeves, storming over to Craig who stood with his head held high. He wasn't tall, but he looked scary enough.

"You have no fucking idea," Stan reeled an arm back, his look heated enough to put the bandroom up 100 degrees. "What the hell I've done for this shit!" The fist was thrown with all his weight in it at Craig's stomach.

Pain flashed over Craig's face and his pupils shrunk rather dramatically. He looked like he might be sick, and the repulsive cough that came from him accompanied by stumbling back against the timpani made half the collecting crowd cringe. In a second's notice, Craig sprung back up to his feet and went to attack Stan, but Stan ducked and swung his leg out, tripping Craig. Craig's face hit the cold floor, hard, and he shrieked out in pain, rolling onto his back.

"Fuck you, I don't have to know what happened to know you're being a douchebag!" Craig maneuvered his legs around Stan's, bringing him down so he could roll on top of him, pin him down, and throw blind, anger-fueled punches at him. Kyle's prays to God that this would stop couldn't be heard through the cheering and murmurs of terror from the throng.

Eventually, Craig fell, not being suited for fighting. It was then that he heard Kyle's sobbing, but only for a second before all feeling slipped his consciousness.

Emooooooo. D: Sorry, guys! Cliffhanger. XD Story ends soon! Get yo tissue boxes! And trashcans, maing, emoness will not stop.

Read and review! Muchas gracias a vosotros quien hacéis ya! :D (lolbadspanish) I just...I love you guys! You're so supportive!

Tell me if I have any errors. My read-through was very sloppy.