"Hey." Craig greets stoically as I emerge through the door. It's not as crowded as the last party, and I know most of everyone here. I nod at him, chancing a smile but rolling my eyes when he just slides past me to close the door and walks off.

I look around. Craig's house is fair sized, and there's about room for 50 people in the downstairs bit, alone. I wonder if people have already started screwing in Mrs and Mr Tucker's bed, yet. I sneak a look at Stan, who's lone in the corner. Well, at least he came. I eye up his beer.

"Hi, Chlo." Butters pops out of freaking nowhere and I nod, hand patting his back awkwardly as he hugs me. Oh yeah, I'm supposed to help him find a guy as well.

I grab a drink from the table and gulp it down, not even bothering to find out whether it's been vomited in or whatever.

A while later, I've set up Butters to chat to some random guy, whilst Token and Clyde play video games. It all makes my head hurt from this work, I swear.

My eyes wander over to where Craig is standing, not before making a cautious glance towards Stan, and I frown as I see Tweek is missing. He sees me, and flips me off, but comes over anyway, just as I put down the drink and smooth down my hair.

"What're you staring at." It's barely a question.

"You. Where's Tweek?"

"We broke up."

My jaw drops, but I try to look stoic. It's not as easy as Craig makes it seem. They broke up? After Craig got on a table and proclaimed his love? After Tweek sobbed about missing him? They broke up, just like that? Again? Fantastic.

"Why?"

Craig rolls his eyes at me and scoffs. "Chloe, wake up. I fucked someone else. He's hardly going to trust me so easily again, is he? Even if I did tell everyone we're fags." His eyes go downcast, a hint of a forced smirk on his face. "I used to be the only one who could calm him down. Not now." He looks up to stare at me.

"We might look fine to you, and we may still look like we're dating…But that's not right. We're not technically broken up, but we're never going to be the same. If you looked a little closer, you would realise that." He points a finger over to the corner, and I spot a slightly ajar closet door down the hallway.

"He's already making out with Red, no doubt." Craig chuckles, arms crossing. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but I can't. I can't be positive. Craig and Tweek…It's impossible getting them together. It's all impossible. It's like God is just flipping me off here and now. I look over to where Butters is kissing that some guy, and I shake my head lightly. He's meant to be with Kenny. I'm not helping anyone – I'm screwing them over.

I catch a glance over towards Stan again, and see he's no longer there. I try to dismiss the pangs in my stomach, and turn back to Craig, when a hand encircles around my wrist and I turn around, eyes widened automatically.

"Come on." He mutters and pulls me away before I have the chance to comply. Not that I would have said no. I can't even think straight, whether from the fact the love of my…past life is touching me, talking to me, finally, or the alcohol. He pushes me into a room, not as roughly as he could have. I detect some alcohol in his breath, and it makes me frown. I hated the time we weren't friends, all those years ago, when he got wasted all the time and obsessed with alien conspiracies. I didn't stay by him, but, whatever, I am now.

"Stan?" I say meekly when he's just silent, staring at the ground like he's thinking about algebra shit. He just looks deep in thought, for a drunk person. Does he know it's me? Is he unsure? Is he going to bleeding murder me for –

His lips cram into mine, and I moan slightly, my hands immediately gripping his shoulders, keeping him at a close distance, as always. I make the first move, parting my lips to let him in. His hands go up into my hair and my head spins. This is right, this is right, it's Stan and I…We're back together…

But we're not. I'm dead. This, my body, it's not mine. I'm just a soul grabbing at an empty pot of gold. My eyes water, helped by the hormone increase and toxins, and when the first drip gets onto his cheeks, he pulls away, blue eyes searching my face.

"I'm so glad you're back, Kyle. Don't cry." A smile slips onto my face as I take in his words. He knows it's me. He knows it's me. His fingers trace along my jaw, then the side of my face, then the curve of my ear as he pushes my hair back. He kisses me again, and I kiss back.

But I should have known by now, South Park is infamous for mishappenings.