Disclaimer: South Park and all characters in it are copyright Matt Stone and Trey Parker, not me.

A/N:

Just so you know, I had better things to do.

Instead, I'm giving you this.

Writing Craig is getting harder, in a good way. Writing a three way relationship is getting even harder than it was, because now it's getting to be a three way relationship. With three people. In one relationship. Cue ripping hair out now.

But it's working, somehow. Things still might seem… strange. It's a working thing,

Oh, and remember that one chapter, where Craig and Clyde were talking on the ridge? MMmmyep… I like going back to touch on little specifics.

THANKS TO:
Lar-Lar

Lilzenium

Des Beasty

I LOVE YOU WITH THE POWER OF A THOUSAND SUNS or something. You understand, right?

PIMPAGE: Sam-Sam-Samedi. Just pick something and read it. AMAZING. Writing like that gives me hope, for something. Much hope.

SELF PIMPAGE: Hey, you? Got time after you finish reading this? Go read PINK, yes, that's the title, Pink. Go read it. It's by me. And it's Stan-centric, and full of, um, thought-and-analysis provoking stuff. Please. And review. Please. I'm not too proud to beg, really.


Title: A Neapolitan Love Story

Author: Zoshi the Confused
Rating: Ranging, mostly PG-PG13

Category: South Park

Genre: General

May contain: Shounen-Ai/Boy Love, Violence, Adult Situations, Swearing


The door to the porch opened, and footsteps headed across the wooden decks to where Craig sat hunched on the first step. He shuddered slightly, pulling in on himself as the person sat down next to him. A hand touched his hair softly, stroking gently, but he couldn't get himself to relax to that caring touch.

"I-It's my f-f-fault, isn't i-it?" He shook again, knowing well enough that it wasn't from the cold. A soft sigh came from the person next to him, and the hand dropped to his shoulder and pulled him close.

"Craig, Honey, this is not your fault," His mother said softly, gently stroking his face with her other hand. "This isn't anyone's fault."

"It is," Craig said, voice wavering. "It's my fault."

"Craig, no," His mother's voice shook slightly, and she pulled him closer, hand rubbing his shoulder. "No."

"I-if I wasn't so… so…" He shook; if he wasn't so what? If he wasn't so everything, he thought. If he just wasn't, at all. Maybe then things would be different.

"This happens sometimes, Craig, and you can't blame yourself for it." His mother kissed his cheek softly, "Sometimes things happen, and you just can't find a reason for it."

"What… what's going to happen to… us?" Craig turned to her, voice desperate.

"We'll see, honey," She smiled at him softly, "We'll see."

"He doesn't want me…" Craig said, voice just barely above a whisper. His mother's smile faltered, but she didn't say a word, and he leaned against her shoulder, shuddering again. Of course, who would want him anyways? He wasn't all that great a person, no, he wasn't great at all. He wasn't even a good person.

His mother wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. He felt warmed, finally, by her presence. Felt cared for. He didn't feel anyone should be caring about him, it seemed like such a waste, but he wasn't so apathetic that he'd reject it when it was offered. He felt so cold, and it seemed that only his mother's touch was keeping him from freezing completely. They sat there in silence for a long moment before another fear bubbled up within him. He trembled, unconsciously pushing closer to his mother, wanting to feel that comfort just a bit longer, just in case. Just in case.

"M…Mom?" He asked tentatively, staring at some spot on the ground before them, unwilling to look at her. "I… I have to tell you something…"

"Hm? What is it honey?" His mother asked softly. He started to speak, stopped, cut himself off with a low whimper. She recognized his hesitation, rubbed his back gently and waited patiently.

"Mom… I…" He stopped again, licking his suddenly dry lips. His fingers clenched in the fabric of his shirt where he'd wrapped his arms around himself. He shuddered again, uncertain, before finally breathing out, "I'm gay."

A black hole opened somewhere in his stomach; he wasn't sure where he was looking anymore, or what at. He was detached, far away, gaining speed in some sort of zero-gravity fall, which didn't make sense, but his head told him one thing and his insides told him something else, and he wasn't sure if anything made sense anymore. Light was supposed to be bright, but instead it was dark, and he was either falling into it or out of it, or maybe somehow around it, but it didn't matter, because he had to come back down – or up – or in or out – because he needed to hear her response, he needed the look on her face, he needed that last blow that would tell him that he was indeed lost and gone.

"Craig," She touched his face, but he didn't want to move at her touch, didn't want to look although he desperately needed to. "Craig, look at me."
She placed both hands on either side of his face, forced him to raise his head, look her in the eyes. He was looking everywhere, everywhere but at her, but her gaze was too strong, and he found himself looking his mother in the eyes finally. They shone in the darkness, and she smiled softly, and suddenly she didn't look so worn, so weary.

"Craig, honey… I love you," She stroked his face gently, "I love you, and I will never, ever, tell you to be anything than who you are. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being true to yourself. Do you understand?"

Craig whimpered softly; he wasn't sure he did. He wasn't sure it was making sense, but he thought it would make sense in time. It was stupid, he knew. It was the simplest thing in the world, her words, her meaning, but the dark thing gnawing at him wasn't letting it get through to him.

"Honey, you have to be yourself," His mother pulled him close again, kissing his forehead. "You have to be yourself, and never let anyone tell you otherwise. You can fool others, Craig. You can lie to them. But don't ever, ever, try to fool yourself."

Craig nodded jerkily, wrapped his arms around his mother and pulled close, drinking in the warmth of motherly love that seemed to so effortlessly chase away the darkness.

"I'm sorry I had to pull you away from your friends, honey," She said with a sigh, stroking his hair. He closed his eyes, shuddering softly. Oh God. Kyle and Kenny. What if everything went to hell? What if there was moving involved? What would he do? What would they do?

"M-om," He started, voice breaking. He stopped; he couldn't. That was selfish, wasn't it? That was wrong.

"Craig, honey?" She asked gently, patting his back. "Would you want to go back? Spend the night, maybe?"

He pulled away slightly, looked at her in shock. She smiled at him, and there was something, something in her eyes. He wondered if she knew, now; if maybe she was figuring things out. He was happy she didn't say anything. He hoped she wouldn't.

"Maybe you can de-stress, hm? Play some games or go get in trouble somewhere…" She chuckled softly, touching his face gently, then patted his cheek. "Go ahead, honey. And try not to worry about anything, okay?"

"O-okay," He stood up shakily, stared down at her for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" She laughed slightly, clapping him on the leg. "Now go, have fun."

"All right… Night, mom," He tried to grin, but it felt strained. She smiled softly, a bit sadly.

"Good Night, Craig," She got up herself, give him a kiss on the cheek. She smiled then, almost normally, and raised an eyebrow. "And when are you finally going to bring these friends over so I can meet them properly?"

"Someday," He answered, clearing his throat slightly, and trying not to look guilty. His mother smiled, patted his shoulder, and he started off, turning only at the gate to wave at her. She waved back, and he headed out into the streets.

Motherly love was like a bubble, while it lasted. Nothing got through it, nothing could get to him, but just like a bubble that slowly lost its air, this bubble lost its influence the farther from home he got. By the time he'd reached the train tracks, he was shaking again, arms twitching as he wrapped them around his midsection. He didn't know how time had passed since he'd left; he didn't know what time it was at all. He wasn't sure if either one of them was going to be there, since Kenny only spent as much time as he needed to at his house, preferring either his friends houses or wandering around half the night on the empty streets. Craig climbed the front steps shakily, stopping at the front door. The TV was blasting loud, so he was pretty sure the guys weren't in the living room anymore, but he had no idea if they were anywhere in the house at all. He decided to risk it and pushed the wooden door open.

Walking in as carefully as he could, he pushed the door closed slowly, wincing as the hinges squeaked. He looked into the living room to see Stuart snoring away on the couch, feet propped up on the cinderblock and plywood construction that passed as a coffee table, a beer bottle dangling precariously in his limp fingers. Crossing the room as quietly as he could, and nearly jumping out of his skin when the bottle dropped onto the floor with a loud thump, Craig finally managed to reach the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Heading down the corridor, he reached Kenny's door. Looking around warily, he pushed on the door. Opening it slightly, he slipped inside and leaned back against it to close it.

"Craig?"

Kyle's voice surprised him, and he looked up to see both the red head and blonde sitting on the mattress that constituted the blonde's bed, cards in hands and tossed around on the bed sheets between them. They were both giving him questioning looks, and his throat caught at the concern he saw in their eyes. Without a word in response he shuffled over to the mattress, dropping onto the head of it behind where Kenny was sitting, and curling up to bury his face in his arms. He felt the mattress shift, and someone touched his head gently.

"Hey, Craig, dude, what's wrong?" Kenny asked, and Craig knew it was his hand on his head. He uncovered his face just enough to look up at the blonde. Kyle was next to him, and they were both looking at him with worried expressions.

"Can I stay the night?" Craig asked softly, worried his voice might break if he tried to speak any louder. Kenny looked surprised, but nodded quickly.

"Sure," The blonde ruffled his hair slightly, biting his lip, and glanced sideways at Kyle.

"Do you want to talk?" Kyle asked gently, laying a hand on Craig's side.

He shuddered softly, but not from fear. He was starting to feel warm again, their touches were soothing, calming. He looked away from them, down at the threadbare fabric of Kenny's sheets, swallowed thickly, and hoped to high heaven his voice would stay steady.

"My p-parents," Craig grimaced at the stutter, fingers clenching in the sheets, "They're… getting a divorce."

"Shit…" Kenny's voice was barely a whisper, barely a breath. Craig could feel Kyle's hand clench spasmodically against his side.

"God, Craig… I'm sorry…" Kyle whispered, gently rubbing his side, and he shuddered, closing his eyes. He pressed his face into his arms; he didn't want to see anything. There was shifting on the bed, he could feel them moving, and then Kenny was laying on the mattress, perpendicular to him. The blonde stroked his hair gently, every now and then pressing a soft kiss to his head between whispered words of comfort. Craig couldn't feel Kyle's presence, at least not anywhere close, but then the red head started speaking form the other end of the bed.

"Mom? It's going good, Mom. Yeah… I just wanted to ask, this project we're doing? Well, it's going really well and… yeah… well, I thought we could just finish it tonight… yeah, tomorrow's Saturday so… Yes. Yes, I ate dinner. No. It wasn't McDonalds. MOM… Yes? All right… Yeah, good night."

The mattress shifted again, and Craig could feel Kyle shift close to him, his hand touching against his side again. He buried his face deeper, shifting so he could press it against the sheets. The stale scent of cigarettes and dollar store detergent was comforting. He thought he could relax, because Kenny had rested his head against his, his arm laying across Craig's neck, and Kyle had curled up as close to Craig as he could get, almost laying on him, and wrapped his arms around his body.

Craig wanted to relax. He wanted to let go. A twinge was starting at the back of his neck; he could feel himself twitching slightly no matter how hard he was trying to control it. His face was wet; tears were running down it unbidden, and he knew was starting to sob. He knew why this was happening, he should have been expecting it. He should have known. It was his fault, after all, and his mom and sister just happened to be innocent bystanders. He should have known.

He pushed up from the bed, twisting around. Kenny stared up at Craig, puzzled, and Kyle had ended up falling over onto his legs. He wiped his face and nose with his sleeve, trying not to sniffle.

"I mean, I know I'm off. I know I have p-problems…" Craig moved his hand into his hair, gripping it tightly, painfully, trying to keep from crying. Kyle sat up, reached over to gently untangle his fingers from his hair.

"Craig, everyone has problems," The redhead said, lowering Craig's hand away from his face.

"But I have real problems," Craig brought his knees up to his chest, and he tried to bring his arms in closer but Kyle wouldn't let go of his hand. He could feel Kenny sitting up behind him.

"And you think you're the reasons your parents are breaking up?" Kenny asked, moving around to look at Craig head-on. He looked at him for a long moment before reaching out to brush a tear off of his cheek. "You're not the reason they're breaking up, Craig."

"How the fuck do you know?" Craig snapped, tearing his hand out of Kyle's grip and wrapping his arms around his knees. He looked away from both of them, staring at the wall across from him.

"Maybe you have problems, Craig, because they had problems first? Did you ever think of that?" Kenny asked, maybe a bit more harshly then he should have. Craig shuddered slightly, pressing his mouth against his knees. Kyle sighed softly, rubbing Craig's arm gently.

"You can't put the blame on yourself, Craig," The redhead said, voice soothing. "You can't blame yourself for something you had no control over."

Craig shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. He wasn't sure he could do that. He wasn't sure they were right.

He was suddenly jerked, and looked up to see Kenny pulling at the covers they were all sitting on.

"Kenny, what are you doing?" Kyle asked, nearly falling over as Kenny pulled on the covers again.

"All right, shoes off," Kenny said, finally having gotten the covers off of them. He was met with two puzzled glances, and no movement. "Come on, as sad is it sounds, we're not gonna get anywhere talking."

"So…" Kyle started, looking at the bed curiously. Craig looked at Kenny as the blonde crossed the room to hit the light switch. They were swamped in darkness suddenly, but after a moment his eyes had adjusted to the dim light that reached the room from the streetlamp outside. Kenny was heading back towards the mattress, trying not to stumble over the different things he'd left tossed around his room.

"So, we're going to get to bed, go to sleep, and hope that tomorrow we'll wake up thinking clearer," The blonde said, falling onto the mattress next to Craig and kicking off his shoes. Craig looked at him for a moment, then turned to Kyle. The redhead had a slightly bemused expression on his face, but he turned to Craig and grinned softly.

"He's got a good idea…" Kyle said, shrugging, and started untying his own shoes.

Craig looked down at his own shoes, not uncertain, just not wanting to move. He reached out and tugged at a shoe string half-heartedly. He was tired, he realized, but he didn't think he'd be able to sleep. He wasn't sure he wanted to sleep, but he wasn't sure what he wanted, at all. He didn't know what he was doing there, anyways. Why he was burdening them as well.

His fingers were brushed away suddenly, and Kenny untied his shoes.

"There, better?" The blonde asked, grinning up at him. Craig didn't reply, but pulled his shoes off and tossed them aside. He slid his legs under the covers, laying down as well he could without taking up too much of the mattress. It was a squeeze with three teenage boys on it, but they seemed to be managing well. At least, Craig hoped they were managing well; he was in the middle after all, and for all he knew either Kenny or Kyle was hanging half-way off the mattress. It was a little awkward; somehow even on that narrow mattress they were finding ways not to touch each other more than they had to. Craig wasn't sure just how much he should move so he wouldn't make one of the others uncomfortable. He wasn't sure just how the hell they were going to get to sleep like that, too.

"You know, it looks wider when it's empty," Kyle spoke up from Craig's left. Craig turned to see the redhead looking up at the ceiling with a slightly thoughtful expression.

"Well, sorry, I'll fix that once the dump gets a new shipment," Kenny replied, shifting onto his side.

"You did not get your mattress from the dump," Kyle sighed, but there was a slight look of distaste on his face.

"Amazing what a good airing out can do, huh?" Kenny replied nonchalantly, and Kyle sat up suddenly.

"Shut up." The redhead looked uneasily at the blonde.

"God, I'm joking," Kenny sighed loudly, but looked like he was holding back a laugh.

Craig found himself grinning despite himself, and raised an arm to wipe off his face again. Remembering the look on Kyle's face, he found himself chuckling as well, and tried to muffle it with his sleeve. The redhead shot him an annoyed glance, looking slightly embarrassed, and dropped with a huff back onto the mattress. Kenny really started laughing then, a quiet laughter first that grew once Craig found he couldn't hold back either.

"Shut up," Kyle snapped, but he didn't sound convincing, and when he spoke again it was bubbling with laughter. "You guys are such fucking asses…"

Then he broke into laughter as well, and for a long moment Craig couldn't catch his breath. Something was breaking away; it was like nothing mattered anymore, and not in that bleak sense this time. Laughter faded into chuckles, and chuckles faded into a comfortable silence. Craig found himself grinning softly into the darkness, wondering just how damn lucky he had to be to be there at that moment. He'd never thought they'd get anywhere close to where they were now, and where they were wasn't very far at all. With a soft sigh he reached out, wrapping an arm around each one of them and pulling them closer. Kenny didn't wait long before wrapping his own arms around him, head resting on his shoulder. On his other side Kyle shifted slightly, Craig could feel him press a soft kiss against his cheek, snaking an arm behind his neck to get comfortable before finally resting his head on the pillow next to Craig's.

There was so much he wanted to tell them, so much he wanted to say, but not tonight. He wasn't sure he could put it into words tonight, he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to, but he knew he'd try. He'd find the moment, but for now, just being there with them was enough.

****

"I just, you know… I feel like an ass…" Clyde sighed, tossing a rock out off of the ridge they were sitting on. Craig looked over at him from his seat by the small tree.

"Why?" He asked, pausing with his hands half-full of soil. The brown haired boy turned to look at him, grinning uneasily.

"I just… kept saying it was gonna be all right… and stuff…" Clyde shrugged, bouncing another rock in his palm.

"Everyone did," Craig said, patting the soil into place around the base of the tree. "You were actually doing it to try and make me feel better, and not just trying to avoid talking about it."

He took another handful of soil out of the small bag next to him and patted it down around the base of the tree. It was mixed with fertilizer and peat moss and guinea pig food.

"You okay, dude?" Clyde asked after a moment, and Craig shrugged.

"I dunno…" He wiped his forehead with his arm, and looked over his work. Seemed good, he thought, but frowned when he looked at little metal plaque nailed to the tree. The tree had grown too close to it, again. He reached out and rubbed it with the back of his hand to clean it but only ended up getting it dirtier. He grimaced, and sighed. "You know, it hit me. It just didn't, hit me. I don't think it'll make sense, like, for a few years. Or something."

Clyde nodded; he didn't understand, but Craig appreciated the effort. Funny, he didn't remember appreciating that effort before. He looked over at the brunette, biting his lip thoughtfully.

"Clyde?" He asked, looking down at the bag of soil and the little garden spade on the ground next to him.

"Yeah?" Clyde asked, his voice just slightly distant. Craig knew the divorce was bothering the brown haired boy almost as much as it bothered him, if in a different way. Hell, they'd grown up together, and if they didn't exactly act close-as-brothers, that didn't meant they didn't react when something happened to one of them.

"You think… I can stay at your house, sometimes? I mean, just for a bit, or something…" Craig looked at him, "I mean… fuck, if it's all right, right?"
"Craig." Clyde almost looked confused. "Why are you even asking?"

"Because…" Craig paused, realizing he didn't have an answer. He frowned, and tossed the spade in Clyde's direction. "Because that's what normal people do, stupid."

"Oh, we're normal now, are we?" Clyde laughed, leaning away from the spade's path. Craig flipped him off, and the other boy laughed harder, falling over onto his back.

"Shut up Clyde," Craig huffed, wrapping up the bag of soil, but he was grinning. He looked at the plaque on the tree again. "Dammit, I need to loosen this again."

"Do it tomorrow," Clyde said, walking over with the spade. "We'll make it a… a thing. Bring the guys up, get some pizza or something. Share fond memories."

Craig looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow.

"Share fond memories?" He asked, and Clyde shrugged, grinning. "You're such a fag."

"You're one to talk," Clyde answered back, giving him a shove. Craig shoved him back just as well, laughing as he nearly fell backward. Standing up, he took the spade from the brown haired boy and started down the trail that led off the ridge.

"C'mon Clyde, I don't wanna be late for dinner," He called back, and heard Clyde hurrying after him.

"Dinner?" The brunette asked, and Craig rolled his eyes.

"Yes, dinner. Your mom said she was making lasagna, and I am not going to miss out on lasagna."

"Pfft, of course."