South Park © Matt & Trey.

Thanks for reviewing :) I've got another chapter fic to post directly after I'm done posting this one. I've been writing like crazy lately.


I'm currently standing in the park with Craig and Kenny, trying to get those stupid fucking photos from him. Unfortunately, Kenny doesn't seem to be in a giving mood.

"Come on!" I growl impatiently, trying to refrain from using physical force.

Kenny ignores me. Instead he looks at Craig, pointing to his groin and taunting, "I'll give them to you if you suck me off. C'mon, Craig. Show Clyde what a good boy you are. I bet he's dying to see you put that dirty mouth of yours to work."

Craig doesn't react at all. I gotta give him props for it.

"Shut the fuck up," I seethe. "I swear to God if you show anyone else these pictures –"

Kenny laughs. "Oops, too late," he says to me before glancing at Craig and carelessly apologizing with, "Sorry, babe. I couldn't help myself."

I grit my teeth. "You're so fucking sick!"

"What are you going to do?" he asks tauntingly. "Hit me? Come on! Do it! Fuck me up, Clyde! Fuck me up like everyone else fucks me up!"

It's unsettling, but I don't respond. I can't. Instead, I accept his challenge and punch him in the face as hard as I can. Just once. Craig shouts at me to stop before I can do it again. So, I release Kenny. He'll have a bruise, but I don't feel bad about it. Before I let him go, I reach into his pocket and grab his cellphone. Then I grab Craig and we leave Kenny stunned and silent.

When we reach the main road, Craig sniffles, taking the phone from me. He erases the photos before breaking the phone and crushing the memory card for good measure.

"How do you feel?" I ask him, staring down at the broken electronic lying on the snow.

"Kind of shitty," he admits with a shrug. "I don't know."

I look at him piteously, unable to wipe the sympathy from my gaze.

"Don't look at me like that!" Craig snaps, pushing me away from him.

I hold up my hands and take a step back. "All right. I'm sorry."

He gives me a look of distastes before wandering off. I follow him, but I keep my distance.

"What now?" he asks out of the blue, staring straight ahead.

"What do you mean?"

"What do I do?"

I let out a quiet breath. "I don't know, Craig… It's up to you."

"I'm bad at making decisions," he states. "You know it and I know it. My decisions always get me in trouble and then shitty things happen. I get myself into stuff my ass can't handle. It's my fault isn't it?"

"No," I tell him, wishing he'd stop blaming himself for everything that comes his way. It isn't like he brought it all on. Sometimes shit just happens.


Craig is once again working hard to push away all the people in his life. He's moody. He's tired. He's mean. He's lashing out at everyone. They leave his side willingly.

During my next shift at work, Bebe and Red come to visit.

"You've been MIA," Bebe accuses.

"You guys have been MIA, too," I point out, silently hinting for answers. "I've been with Craig."

"Craig is so cranky lately…" Bebe murmurs, frowning. "I feel like everything I say is going to set him off. I don't want to make things worse."

Red nods along with her and adds, "He's hard to be around."

I let out a sigh. "He was hurt bad. Just let him be sad for a while. He'll be back to normal soon enough."

Bebe lets out a loud scoff. "I wouldn't be so sure, Clyde. For Craig, this is normal. He's mean. He can't regulate his emotions properly. It's always been his weakness. His negative emotions are his most intense emotions. He can't handle shit like this."

I know she's right. I fucking know it… but I still want to fight her on it and insist it's not true. Nonetheless, I simply say, "Yeah…"


After work I make my usual visit to the Tucker residence. It's nearing 9PM, but I know they're all still awake. His entire family are night hawks.

"Where's Craig?" I ask as Laura lets me in.

"In the bathroom," she responds tersely, causing me to feel uneasy. "Clyde, what the fuck is happening to my son?" she whispers sharply, demanding answers. "I feel like I just got him back and now… He's not talking to me anymore. He's pushing everyone away. When I arrived home he was passed out on the floor."

I wince at that. "Shit… Is he still unconscious?"

She lets out a soft sigh. "Yes. I put a blanket over him and left him there. I was going to wait for Thomas to get back so he could carry Craig to his room, but…" she trails off and stares at me. "He won't be getting home until later. Would you do it?"

I force a smile. "Yeah, sure."

So, I make my way upstairs, but before I can open the bathroom door Ruby appears from her bedroom. I hold up my hand and wave at her. I prepare myself for a mouthful of sass, but it doesn't come. Instead, she sighs and is soft spoken as she says, "I want to help him, but I can't."

"I know," I sympathize before pushing open the door. It creaks, revealing Craig. He's lying on the floor in a lump, bare shoulders peeking from beneath a wool blanket. With a sigh, I bend down and begin to pick him up.

"Stop…" he whines drunkenly, pushing me away. He opens bleary eyes, looking at me accusingly.

"You're awake…" I state, pausing.

With drunken, sloppy movements he struggles to push himself into a sitting position. He lets out a pained moan, rubbing his palms over his face.

"Craig?" Ruby asks from her spot in the hallway. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he responds. "Go away."

And she does.

I let out a sigh, watching her leave before returning my attention to Craig. "You can't keep pushing people away, dude," I say, sitting down with him. "I know it hurts, but we can offer you support if you let us."

He doesn't say anything for a moment. He closes his eyes, rubbing his forehead. "Ugh…" he groans. "I can't stop thinking about it… the pictures…" He pauses, staring at me. "How many people do you think saw them?"

"I don't know," I murmur.

"Who do you think saw them?" he asks. "And why?

"Craig, I really don't know," I tell him. "I wish I did. I wish I had all the answers you're looking for, but I don't have any." I stand up and offer him my hand. "Come on, let's get you into bed. You should sleep this off."

He clutches the blanket before taking my hand. I help him up and he stumbles almost immediately, sitting back on the floor. "I give up," he decides. "Carry me."

I bend down and pick him up easily. He doesn't weigh much. We move across the hallway and I set him down in the center of his bedroom before shutting the door.

I move towards his dresser and open the second drawer, where he keeps his pyjamas. I grab him a pair of plaid pants and a navy t-shirt. "Here," I say, handing them to him.

He tries to sit on his bed, but he misses and lands on the floor. "Fuck!" he snaps at himself, sitting up and hitting himself in the head.

"Don't," I tell him, tossing his clothes on the mattress and grabbing his wrists before he can do it again. "Fucking stop!" I snap.

His jaw tightens and he breaks eye contact, glancing away. I help pour him into his clothes and once he's modest I feel like I can look at him again. I watch as he crawls onto his bed, sitting up straight against the headboard. He puts the tip of his thumb in his mouth and he still remains silent.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Thinking," he murmurs vaguely.

"About…?" I urge.

"How I'm going to kill Kenny," he says.

I raise an eyebrow at that, closing the door to his bedroom. "What the fuck do you mean by that?"

"I'm going to kill him," Craig says decidedly. "I'm seriously going to do it."

"No, you're not," I respond knowingly.

"Yeah, I am," he insists.

"No, you're not," I say again.

"No…" he relents. "I couldn't…" He pushes his hands through his hair, sniffling. "God, this sucks…"

I sit down next to him, unsure what else to say. "Yeah…"

"Sometimes I don't even know what hurts," he confesses quietly. "And all I can do is whine nonstop because I can't figure it out… I feel like I can't even blame Kenny because I've been feeling low for a while. I latched onto him quickly. I guess I was desperately seeking an identity and I felt like he'd give me one. In a way, he did… but it wasn't the identity I was looking for."

"I'm really sorry, Craig…" I whisper.

"Clyde…" he murmurs weakly, letting out soft sobbing sounds.

"What is it, Craig?" I ask, but he doesn't respond. He just keeps saying my name.

I reach for his hand and hold it in mine, but I don't say anything else.


After forcing him to sip on a glass of water, he begins to sober up slowly. He crashes around 1AM, welcoming a bad headache. Around 4AM, he wakes up and stumbles out of the room. I get up and follow him across the hall and into the bathroom. He doesn't quite make it to the toilet, so he starts puking in the sink instead.

I rub his back and he lets out pained moans and groans.


I stay with Craig for the next few days in between work. He quit his job. He said he couldn't handle it anymore. I guess I don't blame him for that. Rumors are still floating around about him. I don't know who started them, but if I find out they're dead meat. I'm not sure if I should believe Kenny when he says it wasn't him… Then again, if he did cause Craig more grief he'd probably want to take credit for it.

On the weekend, I end up convincing him to go on a walk with me. He needs fresh air. It's just not healthy to stay locked in your bedroom all day and all night.

We end up spotting Jason, who looks like he's on his way to work. I watch him and Craig exchange awkward greetings before cutting in with, "Have you heard any rumors about Craig lately?"

"Shit," Jason says with a wince. "Yeah… That was me…"

Craig gapes at him. "What?"

"It was an accident!" Jason protests quickly. "I just… I felt weird about the whole thing, so I ended up telling people. I didn't want anyone to find out and start calling me a homo. So… I said you tried to hook up."

Craig grits his teeth together. "You're an asshole."

"I know!" Jason exclaims.

"Whatever," Craig mutters before walking away.

"How would people have figured out you almost fucked Craig?" I ask Jason dully.

"I don't know!" he shouts. "I was paranoid!"

I roll my eyes at him before following after Craig. All I do is follow Craig. I don't know why. I feel scared leaving him alone. I'm worried he'll do something stupid.

I trail after him down the main road. I want to ask him if he's okay, but he's probably not. It'd be a stupid question.

"Craig –" I say his name, but he cuts me off.

"I'm fine!" he shouts, picking up his pace. Once we near his house he slips on a patch of ice and falls backwards. Not one for grace lately, that's for damn sure.

I help him up and say, "No, you're not fine."

"IT DOESN'T MATTER, IT DOESN'T MATTER, IT DOESN'T MATTER!" he screams frantically. He's probably trying pretty damn hard to convince himself of it.

"If it matters to you, then it matters," I tell him.

He looks at me with glassy eyes before turning away and walking up his driveway. He's more cautious. Inside, he throws off his boots and coat, discarding them on the floor. He's angry. He's overwhelmed. He circles the house in a daze, eyebrows drawn together. It's like he doesn't know what he wants to do. He turns into the kitchen and reaches for the back door, opening it and stepping onto the patio.

"Stop!" I shout at him. "You're going to freeze to death!"

"It doesn't matter!" he calls, voice breaking.

"Yes, it fucking does!" I snap. Hesitantly, I step outside after him. I grab him by the waist and drag him back inside. When I release him, he continues wandering around the house like nothing happened.

I follow him for what feels like hours. Eventually, he makes his way into his room and falls asleep. I take his damp socks off and drape the duvet over him. He starts mumbling. I debate on waking him up, but I don't. I just sit on the edge of his bed and listen.


Token, Nichole and Kevin come back mid-month. I invite them all over and fill them in on all the crap that's been going on since they left.

"Shit," Token deadpans.

"Damn," Kevin states.

"How sad," Nichole offers.

"Yeah…" I murmur. "He's not taking it well, as you can probably assume. A lot of his old personality is coming back."

"Not surprising," Kevin says. "The memory loss probably helped him supress his more extreme personality traits, but being faced with something this shitty brought them back. This is a pretty big deal, so he'll be really volatile."

Nichole nods her head sadly, looking incredibly sympathetic. "It's unfortunate… He was easier to be around. Perhaps that sounds cruel and selfish, but it's true. There was something kinder about him."

"Hey…" I protest. "He's still kind."

They all exchange doubtful glances with one another.

"Bebe has said it to you before, but you're blind when it comes to Craig," Nichole points out. "Even at times when he was so unbelievably cruel, you were still making up excuses to justify his animosity."

"He's my best friend," I say. "It's hard hearing people shit-talk him…"

"You're too kind, Clyde," she continues. "Compassion isn't a bad thing, but there are times when you'll need to stand up for yourself. You let Craig walk all over you. Just promise that if he grows back into his cruelty… promise that you won't let him use you as a doormat."

"Fine!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up. "Shit… you guys make it sound so much worse than it was."

"It was bad, dude…" Kevin says with a shrug. "Since you were the only one that stuck around, he ripped on you even worse."

"He wanted to push me away," I murmur. "I wouldn't leave, though. He felt like he had to try harder. Still, I'd stick by him. I mean… there were times when he could be nice. He wasn't always a piece of shit."

Kevin scoffs at that. "Yeah, he was. Sorry, Clyde, but Craig had no redeeming qualities. Maybe he was a little softer when we were young kids… but he still acted out. He was always beating smaller kids up. He did that until he no longer could… then it was the attitude. He was mean."

"Okay, okay, okay!" I wave my hands around, letting out a long sigh. "Look… does this mean you guys don't want to see him?"

"No, of course not," Token promises. "We just… We think you deserve to know how we feel. We'll always care about Craig and we all want the best for him… but… we've tried so fucking hard in the past, man. It's never worked out. He's pushed and pushed and pushed me away, shouting expletives the entire time. I got sick of it. I don't want a repeat."

"He slapped me once," Kevin adds. "I mean… maybe he thought I deserved it, but it was still a shitty thing to do nonetheless. You shouldn't hit your fucking friends."

I let out a groan. "Why'd he do that?"

"I made the mistake of asking him if he wanted to talk," Kevin says with a bitter laugh. "Never did that again."

"Craig is like very strong and bitter alcohol," Nichole cuts in. "You need to take him in small doses… especially if his old personality returns. For a while, he was sweet and things were fun… but let's be real, most of us knew that wouldn't last. He'd either get his memory back or something worse would happen. I guess this is worse."

"God," I mumble. "This is just like the conversation I had with Red and Bebe a little while ago. They feel like that, too."

"Craig's a negative guy," Token says simply. "It's hard to be around all that negativity. I don't know how you did it for so many years, man."

"It's been hard at times," I admit, "but I love the fuck out of him, even when he's being insane."

Nichole smalls a small smile. "You're a saint, Clyde."

"Ah, no I'm not," I insist.

"Well, you have the patience of one," she chuckles.

I force a laugh, but I just feel sad. It feels like everyone is going against Craig. I don't want him to feel alone – especially not now… not after everything Kenny did. Craig needs support now more than ever. He needs to be assured that his friends will be there for him.


It's the week before Christmas. I know it's going to suck. Everyone is sad lately. Me, included. I don't want to be the kind of guy who depends on others for happiness, but it's hard to be happy with all this shit going on.

Speaking of shit – Stan pops into the Book Depository on Monday and I can't help but wonder what the fuck he wants.

"Hey…" I greet awkwardly as he approaches the front desk.

"Hey," he echoes.

"Need help finding anything?" I ask him.

"No…"

"So, uh, what's up?"

He shrugs. "Not much… Wendy is back in town."

"Ah, that's right," I recall. "She's in university."

He nods his head. "I was supposed to go, but I backed out at the last minute. So did Kyle. He didn't know what he wanted to do and I didn't want to do anything."

"You work?" I ask.

"At the market," he says unceremoniously. "It sucks, but it's easy money."

"That's cool," I comment and then we fall into an awkward silence.

"So, uh… How's Craig?" Stan asks. He probably doesn't give a rat's ass.

"He's pretty out of it," I say with a shrug. "Kenny is a piece of shit."

"He's been through a lot…" Stan justifies weakly.

"So has Craig," I tell him. "There's no excuse for hurting and humiliating and degrading someone. What Kenny did was beyond wrong. It took planning and the fact that he took so much time to do this is twisted. Nothing Craig ever did to him was planned out like that."

"I know…" Stan admits in a murmur.

"Why are you here, Stan?" I ask him. "Obviously you didn't come to talk about your girlfriend. Let's get down to it, then."

He lets out a long sigh, glancing away and shoving his hands in his pockets. "Okay…" he starts. "I don't want you to keep beating on Kenny."

I scoff loudly. "I'll stop when he stops. Craig has completely given up. That's what Kenny has reduced him to, yet he keeps coming back for more. Tell him to stay the fuck away."

"Look, I'm sorry about your friend," Stan says impatiently, finally turning to face me. "Craig isn't innocent either, you know. I'm sorry Kenny did what he did. I'm sorry he showed us pictures. I'm sorry he played mind games. I know Craig is in pain, but Kenny is in pain, too. I bet he's in a lot more pain than Craig is."

"There's no comparison!" I shout, mentally berating myself for getting temperamental.

Stan's jaw tightens. "That's not what I meant…"

"Then what, pray tell, did you mean?" I ask dryly.

"Kenny's entire life has been hell," Stan explains tersely. "Craig's constant attacks made it worse."

"You already told me this," I remind him. "What does his dad even do to him? No one will say it. Everyone is always so vague."

Stan stares away again. "It doesn't need to be said. Just imagine the worst thing a parent could do to their child. That's what Stuart does to Kenny. I mean… if a person is tortured enough they're bound to snap. Reason is lost to the wind. He feels like a mistake, so he won't blame his father. He feels like he deserves it. I think Kenny really just hates himself most of all but he tries to numb it and blame Craig instead. He takes his self-hatred out on Craig. He probably sees the similarities as well."

It makes me sick to my stomach, but I'm still so fucking angry.

"Christ," I mutter.

"Mm," Stan muses in agreement. "I remember inviting myself to his house when we were fourteen and I walked in on his dad beating the shit out of him. I remember how fucking terrified and small he was. That scared child is still a huge part of Kenny. I was scared, too. His dad scared the shit out of me. He was always so angry and, to us kids, he looked so big because we were so small. I didn't know what to do, so I ran and just pretended I didn't see it… but I wish I told someone. I wish I told my parents. Now it's too late. If I said something now then Kenny would hate me. He's in a lot of pain and he compensates for it by hurting people and doing stupid, dangerous things."

"Like what?" I pry. I want to understand. I hate Kenny, but I still want to understand him. I want to understand what the fuck possessed him to do such a fucking shitty thing. I want to understand why he is the way he is. I feel like I'm trying to understand something that seems virtually impossible to grasp. In a way, he seems so much like the way Craig used to be.

Stan shrugs. "He talks about sex like he's had it a million times and it's just something trendy to pass the time. Maybe, to him, it is... but it's also more than that. So are his reasons behind it. I don't know who he sleeps with; I just know he sleeps around. Throughout the years, me and Kyle and Cartman have had to rescue him from a lot of bad situations. Sometimes it's like he purposefully searches for danger. He probably doesn't even like the people who are fucking him. He just lets it happen. Lots of old men… Like, I know it sounds fucked up but I think it's because his dad treats him like shit, y'know? It's like… because his dad won't accept him he seeks acceptance in men like his dad. He finds it familiar and, in a gross way, it's comforting to him because he feels like he's in his place."

"Oh," I choke out. "That's so fucking… fucked."

"I guess, in a way, Kenny wanted Craig to know what it was like to be hurt badly by someone you love," Stan continues softly. "He did a lot of things to Craig that were done to him – even the thing with the pictures. Kenny has had photos of him put online by asshole guys a couple times in the past. Kyle had to hack into 4Chan and take them down."

"I thought Kenny hated men," I murmur. "That's what he said."

Stan scoffs out a bitter laugh. "That's the self-hatred his dad engrained in his head talking."

"Kenny and Craig…" I muse offhandedly. "They're a lot alike, even without the things Kenny forced them to have in common."

"They're too alike, by the sounds of it," Stan says.