CHAPTER 11 - In which a Cat is most veritably let out of a Bag

Craig Tucker, somehow, had become known as one of the most level-headed kids in town. His depression was bad, that much was true, but unlike Clyde, he didn't smoke pot, and unlike Stan, he didn't drink, and unlike Bridon, he didn't need therapy. He took his Celexa and he was OK 98% of the time. And Tweek more than helped too.

Still, the endless advisory roles he had ended up taking on a decidedly bitter feel. He had to give advice to Clyde on when Bebe broke up with him again; to Kenny on the twenty-five possible titles for Kenny's EP he was sending into studios in Denver (he hadn't heard back yet, last time he checked); even to Kyle on how to wear his hair. And it all seemed pointless.

So, when Stan showed up at the door, seemingly the last person in the town who hadn't yet sought his oracular wisdom, he just sighed.

He immediately regretted it, because he saw Stan's puffy eyes and runny nose and instead chose his more characteristic greeting of flipping him off. Stan chuckled a little, and didn't wait for an invite to come in. Craig couldn't smell alcohol. Shit, this must be bad.

"What can I do for you, Marsh?"

"I need some advice."

Craig rolled his eyes, but continued, "Anything. It seems to be what I'm good for."

"You're good for a lot more than that," Stan snapped back, before his face creased. Craig didn't know where the compliment came from, and Stan didn't really either. It's just anyone was better in his eyes at the moment than

"Kenny McCormick is an asshole," Stan went on, before plopping himself down on the Tuckers' family sofa. Like most of the adults in South Park, the Tuckers were at some potluck at the Blacks' house, and so (save from Token and by proxy Nichole) the kids were (like too often in this stupid town) free to do what they wanted. Stan legitimately thought most of them didn't have jobs anymore.

"What's new?" Craig retorted, before this time his face contorted - it was an empty comeback and one that didn't bear too much resemblance to reality. "Wait, what? Kenny?"

"He's an asshole", Stan repeated.

"Dude, the way you seem to be at the moment, you'll be seeing everything as an asshole. Literally," he emphasised, as if his point wasn't clear enough already.

"Fuck off, Craig, just because you have some nut-candy to tide you over."

Craig just flipped him off again. "You came over for help, knobface, you want it?"

Stan paused, then sighed. "I'm sorry dude, I'm just really under a lot of pressure."

"As always."

"Everyone's saying that to me."

"Then you should listen."

Stan didn't think for too long about that. "Not even school stuff. Just. Personal stuff." He paused. "Inter- - interpersonal stuff."

Craig's eyebrows arched. "Oh?"

Stan paused. He couldn't make it sound like he had it for Kenny, because A) that couldn't be further from the truth and B) he would in essence come out to Craig, and though he was sure Craig wouldn't be judgmental on the one hand (what kind of fucked-up gay dude would be like that, he thought, except he knew were he in Craig's shoes, he'd probably be like that), he also wasn't even comfortable with Bridon and Calvin knowing, and so telling anyone as close to the rest of his circle as Craig would sit about as easy as a three-day old burrito from Casa Bonita.

"Kenny... Kenny likes who I like."

"Oh."

"And I watched him go up to ... this person and serenade ... them with a guitar and I felt sick and I need your advice."

"Does Kenny know you like him?"

"No, I don't think so, I've only told one person, and he wouldn't tell Kenny."

"Does he know you like him?"

"No, I don't -" Stan stopped. "What do you mean, him?"

"Kenny's gay, Stan."

"No, he's pan."

"He came out again last month, dude, he said he was only into guys now."

At that, Stan panicked. He'd done it, he'd done it, he'd gone and fucking outed himself in front of Craig Fucking Fucker and he had time and he could have saved it, said it was a mistake, Kenny couldn't have been into the guy shit the girl he was into if he was gay, but he'd agreed, subconsciously he'd agreed, and now Craig was going to know, and so he'd tell Tweek, and then one of them probably Tweek, Tweek couldn't control himself fuck now I can't either Tweek would tell one of the guys and then Kyle would find out and everything would be fucking ruined and

"STAN!" Craig hollered, and Stan jumped and coughed and hiccoughed and choked and started ticcing. "Fucking hell," Craig muttered as he went to console Stan; Stan meanwhile was busy trying to remember how to breathe nope get away from me Craig I don't need this and darted up and went across the room.

"Stan, please, I can help, I'm used to this."

"Used t-t-to what-t-t-t?" Stan bit back, starting to hyperventilate and with freshly wet cheeks. "A sh-sh-shhhhhhhaking f-f-ffffffaggot-t-t in your fffront-t-t-t-t rrrrrooooooom?" Fuck, he hated the stammering.

"To put it bluntly, yes!". Craig locked the door from the inside, which to be honest didn't feel like the most comforting thing to do to a quivering ball of anxious mess.

"Sit down and breathe, Stan," Craig continued, bringing his arm around his house guest and guiding him back to the couch. "7, 9, 11. If you forget to breathe, stop it and just manage it how you can, but try in for seven, hold for 9, out for 11. Or start with 3, 5, 7 if your breathing is too fast now."

Stan hated how patronising Craig had to be to help him, and despite himself it worked. Twenty minutes later, and the two had in front of them some (thankfully meth-free) coffee, Stan again dabbing his eyes.

"It's OK to be gay." Craig offered. Stan glared back at him, before his eyes softened and the sides of his mouth curled slightly. They shared a silent minute or two, before Stan asked up: "What do I do about Kenny?"

"You don't want him to know?"

"No."

"Then ask him from his point of view. Ask him if he's trying to 'get lucky' with whoever it is or whatever. You know, play it off as a joke."

"And what if he says yes?"

"Win the guy's heart yourself."

"What if Kyle's not gay?"

Craig looked over and his eyebrows arched again.

Shit.