South Park © Matt & Trey.

The most important chapter. Loljk. I just love being mean to Craig ~

Kenny's POV


If I don't own my title as a slut, then what do I have left? A month is going to be hard, but I'm trying. I haven't been getting drunk and I haven't been sleeping around. It's only been a week and Craig has been distancing himself with ease, so it seems. As much as I'd like to be all Zen about this, it's hard.

"What the hell's wrong with you lately?" Eric raises an eyebrow. "You're moodier than a chick on the rag."

I roll my eyes. "Fuckin' dick…"

I spend the majority of the day doing homework, while Eric procrastinates by loitering around the dorm. I feel like Kyle, getting a head start on my studies like some sort of keener. I'll be glad for it later on and I can rub it in Eric's face when he starts whining about assignments.

I leave the room to grab lunch and again to grab supper. I meet the guys briefly during both those times and Kyle says he's proud I'm taking school seriously. I'm pretty proud of myself, too. I guess now is the time to button down. I can't keep fucking up my relationships and my academics.

After returning from supper, I return to the dorm, not bothering to shut the door. I sit back down on my bed and immediately begin typing on my laptop. I don't mind writing assignments and essays, but I always get Kyle to read them over to make sure they aren't shit before I hand them in.

A short while later I hear footsteps. I look up and I see a familiar figure walk past my dorm's opened door. "Craig?" I say his name, but he keeps walking. There's something strange about the way he's walking, so I choose to follow him. "Craig!" I call again. He stops, but doesn't turn around. "What's up?" I ask, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to look at me. He's expressionless and it feels like he isn't looking at me, but through me and seeing nothing at all.

"What?" he asks dumbly, squinting. There's something strange about the tone of his voice.

"I asked you what's up," I repeat slowly.

"What are you trying to tell me?" he asks. Before I can answer, he turns around and begins walking again, nearing the door.

"Craig, you're not wearing shoes!" I call, following after him once more. He doesn't stop moving. I follow him all the way outside, to the field behind the school. The wind is blowing right through his t-shirt and pajama pants. He looks up at the sky and starts asking me what it means and where he can find it. "I don't know what you're going on about," I tell him. "Are you high?"

"High," he murmurs the word, not quite answering the question but I have my answer nonetheless.

"What the fuck are you on?" I ask. "You're kind of scaring me…"

He falls onto his knees and grabs handfuls of grass, tearing it out of the ground until the mud starts to show. He continues to dig a small hole. I watch as he does this and once he's finished, I say. "Craig, let's go inside."

"Don't!" he shouts.

"What?" I frown, taken aback. Craig never raises his voice.

"Don't," he repeats, whispering it this time. He stands up and begins to wander further into the field, but I grab his wrist. "Please, don't…"

"Come on," I say, dragging him back inside. I take him to my room, where I help him to wash his hands. As I do so, he stares at himself in the mirror and starts to hyperventilate. "Craig –" I start, only to be cut off.

"WHO IS CRAIG?" he screams, turning around and pounding on the door as if he doesn't remember how to open it so I do it for him. He pushes me onto the floor and shuts the door behind me.

"Fuck," I mumble to myself, beginning to stress out. He must've taken some really potent shit. I stand up and press my ear to the door. I hear the rustle of clothing before the sound of urination. I take a step back and let him take care of things. A minute later, the door opens and Craig is wide-eyed, not wearing a stitch of clothing. "Craig?" I whisper.

"Stop calling me that!" he yells angrily. He walks past me, raising both of his hands and beginning to pull on his hair. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," he mumbles, repeating it like some sort of mantra. I glance inside the bathroom and see his clothing on the ground. I bend down, picking them up and taking them to him but he doesn't seem to want to put them back on. I shut my dorm door before anyone can see him and I find myself really fucking thankful I found him before anyone else did. He'd never recover from that humiliation. Red's birthday fuck was enough for a lifetime.

He starts sobbing, rubbing his hands up and down his face. I approach him slowly and carefully. "Hey," I whisper, deciding not to call him by name this time because it doesn't seem to be doing any good. He sinks to his knees and stares at the ground, continuing to cry loudly. I'm really taken aback because when Craig cries, he doesn't cry like this. He cries quietly. He stifles himself as best as he can, but he's not doing that now. Instead, he's crying the way a child might – completely unrestrained.

Before I can attempt to comfort him, Eric walks in and gives me the strangest look. "Get out," I whisper, knowing that it probably wouldn't do any good to have someone like him in the room.

But naturally, Eric doesn't do as he's told. Instead, he saunters inside, shutting the door behind him. "So," he sings, "what do we have here?"

"I'm trip sitting for Craig," I say.

"What'd he take?"

"I have no fucking clue," I admit.

Eric kneels down and grins at Craig. "Hey, buddy," he says in a less than sincere tone. "How're you doing?"

Craig's wet eyes widen and he suddenly brings a fist up and hurls it into Eric's face.

"You little homo!" Eric angrily shouts.

"Stop," I say, irritated beyond belief. "Just go, Eric. You can come back tomorrow. Go sleep in Craig's bed tonight. Tell Clyde he's tripping balls and I'm taking care of him, so not to worry. Only tell Clyde. No one else needs to know about this."

"Whatever," Eric snaps, turning around and leaving. He slams the door and Craig nearly jumps out of his skin. He starts shaking.

"Craig?"

"No," he murmurs.

A moment later, the door swings open again and Clyde comes in. "Jesus fucking Christ," I mumble.

"Craig?" Clyde says his best friend's name, taking in his awful state with a sad look. "Shit, what the hell happened?"

"Bad trip," I tell him. "Didn't Eric give you the fucking memo?"

"All he said is that I should go to your room."

"Naturally," I spit. He always needs to stir the fucking pot.

"My God," he whispers, kneeling down in front of Craig. "Hey… Craig?"

"No," Craig says again.

"Look, dude," I start. "I'm taking care of him, so you can take it easy. I've been through this kind of thing a few times, so I know what to expect."

Clyde nods sadly. "Lemme know how he is tomorrow, 'kay?"

"I will," I assure him.

Clyde turns to leave, closing the door softly behind him. This time, I lock it. When I turn to Craig, he is still shaking and then he throws up on the floor. "Oh, God," I mutter. I run into the bathroom and dampen a cloth, wiping Craig's chin off. I help him stand and escort him to the bed, forcing him to lie down. I clean the vomit off the floor before spraying it with anti-bacterial wash and when I turn around, Craig is flailing on my bed. "Hey, hey," I say quietly, putting a hand on his chest.

He stops and takes a calm breath. He shuts his eyes for a brief moment and when he opens them, they're wide. He stares up at the ceiling and looks frightened, though I don't understand what he is seeing. He rolls onto his side, as if he's trying to mentally escape, and starts crying again. He shoves his face into the pillow and continues wailing hysterically. I let out a sigh and lie down next to him. I wrap an arm around him and he shudders. "You're going to be fine," I say. "You're going to be fine."

"Where is he?" Craig chokes out the question in between violent sobbing.

"Who?" I ask gently.

"Kenny!" he shouts, as if the answer shout be obvious. "I made him go away, but he should be here! I need him…"

And I don't know why, but that makes me heart sink. "I am here," I say quietly.

"Kenny?"

"Yeah, Kenny."

He rolls around and looks at me. "Then who's Craig?" he asks.

"Someone I love," I tell him. "He's beautiful, in and out." I decide to keep talking, hoping that it'll somehow help. Maybe it'll be a comforting distraction, or maybe hearing about himself will help him snap back to reality. "He has braces. He thinks they're dumb, but I like them. He has pale skin and black hair, kind of a Snow White thing going on," I snicker. "We used to fight a lot. We get along these days, though. Well, for the most part. I hurt him – hit him and said some nasty things. Understandably, he's angry at me right now, so he said I need to give him space. I've been trying."

His eyes are red and his face is flushed. He looks sick and I just watched him puke before cleaning it up, but he is still fucking beautiful. I don't know how long he stays like this, just looking at me and listening to my dumb words, but I feel relieved that he's no longer crying. Eventually, he closes his eyes and his breathing evens.

"Jesus Christ," I whisper to myself. My mouth feels dry and there's a lump growing in my throat. I swallow it once, but it comes back and my eyes begin water. A few years escape, but I brush them away.

What a night. I pull him close before finally closing my eyes.


The following morning, I wake up and Craig is shaking in his sleep. I don't dare move. I don't want to wake him too soon, in case he feels unpleasant aftereffects of the bad trip. I don't know what time it is, but it's probably late. I guess we won't be going to class today.

Soon, Craig stirs. I say his name, hoping to God he'll answer to it this time. "Mm?" he murmurs groggily, opening his eyes and staring at me.

Good enough. "You okay?" I ask.

He sits up rather suddenly and says, "Kenny?" He reaches for a blanket, covering himself with it. His hair is stuck up in odd angles and he has bags under his eyes.

I smile sheepishly. "Yeah, hi." I stand and fill him a cup of tap water. His mouth probably tastes like shit right about now. He gladly takes it and drinks.

"What time is it?" he asks, putting the empty cup on the nightstand.

I look over at the digital clock. "It's almost two," I say.

"Shit," he mumbles.

"Do you remember last night?" I ask. "You were fucked off your ass."

"Yes," he says solemnly. "It was messy."

"You scared the shit out of me, you know."

"It wasn't my intention."

"What the hell were you doing, anyway?" I ask.

"Shrooms," he murmurs so quietly I barely make out the word.

I shake my head at him. "Dude, those can really fuck you up."

"So I've noticed," he says dryly. "I've done them before… but this has never fucking happened to me."

"You need to be in a good state of mind to do that shit. Clearly, you weren't."

"Fuck," he sighs.

I sit back down on the bed. "Can you tell me what you were seeing last night?" I ask. "Whatever it was, it sounded horrifying. I mean, I wasn't seeing what you were seeing, but I still got scared. You really fucking scared me. I thought you were going to go mental and never recover."

"I thought so, too," he admits. "I couldn't remember my name, but when you called me Craig I remember thinking that that definitely wasn't my name. I don't know why, but it made sense in my head. Just like digging the holes. I don't really know what I was searching for. I think I was trying to search for my name. I don't know why I thought I'd find it in the ground. You took me inside and I remember thinking I'd never find my name and I felt sombre."

"Sorry," I murmur an apology, unsure of what else to say.

Craig just shakes his head before continuing, "When I saw myself in the mirror in your bathroom, my skin started melting off my bones. When I saw you in the mirror, you had horns and a twisted expression. You looked like Satan and I thought maybe the mirror was showing me the future and I thought you were trying to kill me by melting me with hellfire. I forgot how to open the door, which I thought was a portal, but then you opened it. So, I pushed you and locked myself in the bathroom. I looked at myself again and I wasn't melting anymore. Then I thought the fibres in my clothing were like cells and that they were going to come alive and start suffocating and binding me if I kept them on, so I took them off. After that, I had to pee. It was the best piss I ever took." He lets out a sad chuckle, rubbing his temples.

"What happened after?" I ask quietly. "You started crying when you left the bathroom."

"Yeah," Craig murmurs. "I started thinking about the meaning of life and I convinced myself that life had no meaning and it made me upset. I thought that we were just a game the Gods were playing or something and I felt completely hopeless and helpless. The realization that I was just a spectacle, some source of entertainment… it made me flip shit. It kind of reminded me of the time I slept with Red and everyone was coming in and out of the room. I lot of people witnessed me lose my virginity… I don't know why I remebered that but I couldn't remember my own name."

"I'm really sorry," I say sincerely because I know it's partially my own fault. If I got him that drunk I should have at least kept an eye on him.

"Then Eric came in, right?" he asks. "I punched him in the face because he looked like a goat and I didn't understand what a goat was doing in here."

If this wasn't such a serious thing, I might've laughed. "Why a goat?"

"I have no fucking idea."

"Ah," I say. "He got really fucking pissed off at you for that. He'll probably have a bruise and when people ask about it he'll lie about it."

"Yeah," Craig snorts. "Probably for the best. I don't really want people knowing about what went on last night."

"No shit," I say sympathetically. "What happened after Eric left, then?"

"There was a bang and I got so scared I felt physically sick. Clyde came in and said my name, but I was still convinced I wasn't Craig. I was still scared from when that fat idiot slammed the door and I thought if I threw up I'd be throwing away my fear. So, I puked and you made me lie down. I remember sinking into the mattress and feeling like I was drowning. So I was flailing and I felt you put a hand on my chest to try and get me to stop, so I did and I realized I wasn't drowning. I calmed down a notch, but then I looked up at the ceiling and kept seeing shapes moving and I thought it was some sort of creature trying to escape the confines of the building structure. I think I started crying again. I remember you putting an arm around me and that's when I finally found out who you were because every time I looked at you, you were something different. There was always something wrong with you. In my head I just couldn't place you and when you brought me back inside you looked like the fucking devil… You said your name and then you finally started looking like yourself. I think I felt relieved. I forgot that I was supposed to be angry at you and I just felt inexplicably relieved. I felt safe enough to breath. I remembered you saying Craig a bunch of times, so I asked who he was. I listened to you and I slowly began to connect again. Things started coming back to normal and I remembered Craig was me, even though in the beginning of the night I denied it. It's probably because I was so fucked I wasn't acting at all like myself."

"Yeah, trippy..." I whisper. "You fell asleep shortly after that."

"You stayed with me the whole time?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say once more. "Are you angry again, now that you're sober?"

"No," he admits. "I should be, though, right?"

"Probably," I say, "but I'm glad you're not. Does this mean we can talk again?"

"I did miss you, you know. It didn't take that long… Last night, I can remember that, amidst all the fucked up things I was seeing, I really wanted you to be there to tell me it'd be fine and it would stop soon and I'd be okay. You weren't, but then you were." He pauses. "So, yeah, I guess we can talk again." He smiles faintly, still looking thoroughly tired. He lies back down and closes his eyes.

"How do you feel now?" I ask.

"Like shit."

"Then just sleep," I tell him. "I'll tell Clyde you're fine if I see him."

"Okay," he murmurs.

"Feel better," I say. I go take a shower, washing myself and trying to forget about how awful last night made me feel. I guess I'm stupidly selfish for thinking about it like that. Craig probably feels a hundred times worse about it, but that doesn't really ease my anxiety. If he ever thinks about doing shrooms again, I'll slap him. I swear. After washing, I dry off and put on a pair of shorts and plain a t-shirt before leaving the bathroom. Craig is fast asleep in my bed, so I decide to go and tell Clyde he's alive and stuff.


Naturally, since I told Eric to keep Craig's bad trip a secret, everyone knows. "Is Craig all right?" Kyle and Stan ask once I step foot in the common room.

"Yes, he's fine," I sigh. "Where's Clyde?"

"He's in class," Kyle informs me. "He'll be out in fifteen minutes."

"Great," I say before taking a seat on a nearby chair.

"Rough night?" Stan asks.

"Long and scary, that's for sure." I felt like I was watching someone descend into insanity. I guess that isn't far from it. For hours, Craig lost grip on reality. He started seeing things that weren't there and believing things that weren't true. His senses were mixed up. That's what drugs can do. I can't imagine it personally, but I've seen this kind of thing before. My brother, Kevin, he loves the drugs. Shrooms are one of his favourites and I've seen him have a few bad trips, though they were nothing extreme in comparison to what I witnessed Craig go through last night.

I wave when I see Clyde strolling down the hallway. When he spots me, he starts running. "How's Craig?" he asks.

"Fine," I smile. "He's sleeping it off."

"Shit," Clyde sighs. "He looked horrible."

"He puked as soon as you left," I say. "He started coming down a little while later and then he fell asleep."

"Thank God," he mumbles. 'Hell, you're a good fuckin' person for taking care of him like that."

"I've done it for Kevin before," I shrug. I thought I knew what I was in for, but Craig still ended up surprising me.

We all grab an early supper and once I'm done eating, I head back to my room. Craig is awake by the time I get back. "Hey," I say. "I brought you a sandwich."

"Thanks," he murmurs, sitting up and taking it. He eats slowly with careful bites, as if his stomach is still uneasy.

"Do you still feel sick at all?" I ask.

"Just generally shitty," he says.

"Oh… How long will that last?" I wonder.

"I don't know," he admits. "You hear horror stories about kids getting so fucked up they never fully recover. They either go insane or they're in this permanent state of apathy."

"If you get any more apathetic, I think we're going to have a problem," I say lightly.

"Yeah," he snorts. "What if…" he pauses.

"What if what?" I ask.

"No." He shakes his head. "Never mind."

"Now you have to tell me," I chuckle. "What is it?"

"What if this isn't real," he says slowly. "What if what I was seeing last night was real and drugs make us see the truth?"

"Shut up," I laugh uncomfortably. "I hate that theory. It isn't true."

"What if it is?"

"No. Don't think about it, okay? I don't want this to become some sort of unhealthy obsession. If you ever touch drugs again I'm going to hit you."

"Is that a promise?" he asks perversely.

I just smile at him. "I worry about you."

"You don't have to," he assures me. "After last night, I'd have to hate myself to try that again and I don't hate myself."

"Good," I say quietly. "Good."

Jesus Christ, I'm relieved. I guess something good came out of this fucking messed up situation. Craig is talking to me again and I didn't even have to wait the month. I would've, though. I would've waited the whole month and I would've been good. I think I've learned my lesson. I'm not going to take advantage of him anymore.

"Are we dating again?" I ask.

"If you tell your friends, then sure," he says. "I've decided I'm not fond of secrets."

I let out a groan.

"It shouldn't be so fucking difficult," he continues. "You either want to be with me, or you don't."

"I do…"

"Then tell your friends," he sighs. "It's really not a big fucking deal. They're not going to give a shit. Christ, Kyle's gay and Eric hasn't been screwing with his head."

"It's hard," I say quietly. "You live your life letting people think one thing and then suddenly you're something else. I think everyone knew Kyle was gay. I mean, he acts kind of gay, so it wasn't really a surprise. If I tell people I'm dating a guy, they'll make a big deal out of it."

"So fucking what?" Craig asks once he's done eating. "Don't let them. You're being so fucking dramatic. I didn't know you were such a little bitch."

"Hey!" I protest.

"Where are my clothes?" He glances around.

"Here," I say, fetching them from the table in the corner of the room.

"Turn around," he demands.

"Dude, I've licked your asshole," I snort. "I'm pretty sure we're way past that."

He looks at me with disdain. I just grin and shrug, but I turn around nonetheless. "Okay," he says a minute later. I turn back around and he's wearing the same t-shirt and plaid pajama pants as last night.

"Look…" he starts again, letting out a soft sigh. "We can tell them together if that would make it any easier?"

"Fine, yeah," I say. "Maybe… I don't know…"

He rolls his eyes. "We're doing it today," he tells me with finality. "Otherwise you'll keep trying to put it off and I'll get sick of it."

"Fine," I say again. "I do love you, y'know… I know I don't say it a lot, but…"

"I know that," he whispers. "I love you, too."

I smile a small smile.

"Anyway," he adds, "I'm leaving. I need a shower. I feel repulsive."

I don't say anything else. I watch him go and don't allow myself to think about how the guys are going to react when they find out I'm not as straight as they think. But maybe Craig's right and I'm just overreacting. Maybe they're not going to give a shit. Well, I know Kyle won't. I'm honestly just worried that Eric is going to make a scene because he's insecurely homophobic or that Clyde is going to tell Craig I'm not good enough. Then again, he did tell me he thought I was a good person today, but that might change once he realizes I'm putting it up his best friend's butt. Ah, fuck. I'm not going to think about it until Craig comes back, otherwise I'll give myself a headache.