A/N: Heeeeey, guys. Okay so this took me too long, I know. And it's so not good enough for the length of time I was gone, I know that too. I really have no excuse this time except to say that I've kind of...been losing myself in the world of WWE, and...well, Butters was giving me a lot of trouble this time. So I know it's kind of sucktastical, and if there's any of you out there who are still reading, I hope you can have a little bit of faith in me and I promise I'll try my best to not take a million hours next time. {Nine left.}

Thank you to these amazing people who reviewed from forever ago: Fetteranton, Lar-Lar, whoppers-maltesers, frizzy . writings, Mootycakes, things we said today, Lucas Kane, CITYxoLIGHTS, XsilverXserenade2, and KimLoveMe.

Dear Eric,

It's me, Butters. Kenny said he would get this to you. That was real nice of him. He seems to care a lot that I miss you so much. Stan and Clyde (they're here too, in Heaven, but Kenny said he told you that already) and I don't really talk much. Stan misses Kyle a whole lot, I think. He doesn't do very much except sit and look sad. I wish there was something I could do for him, to make him feel better. But I don't know if there's anything I could say. And Clyde doesn't seem to be around us long enough to talk to him. He keeps going for walks around Heaven. He says it's because he gets restless, but he always looks so tired and sad, kind of like how I think I must look most of the time. I know I sure don't feel good. I miss you. I don't like that I'm here and you're not.

I cried a lot, when I first got here. I just didn't want it to be real. I miss you so much, Eric. It's not the same, being without you. I feel so alone, all the time, like some part of me that should be here isn't where it should be. I just feel so wrong...

I stared down at the notebook I had in my lap, up at the computers across the cloud from me, and back down at my notebook. That didn't sound right, what I'd just written. It sounded too sad, and I didn't want to make Eric feel bad about me being so sad. Especially since there was nothing he could do to help me, just like there was nothing I could do to help him. I didn't understand that, why I couldn't just go be with him. In church they'd always said that God was fair, and that He would always do what was right. This sure didn't feel right, being without Eric. It just wasn't fair, darn it! Shouldn't God be able to fix it so it was fair, and just let Eric up here to be with me? He wasn't that bad of a person. He'd used to be pretty mean, even to me back when we were little kids, but he'd been getting so much better. Even the other guys had noticed, as much as they'd kept trying to convince me I shouldn't be with him because he wasn't good for me... I'd heard them talking when they didn't think I was listening to them, and even Craig had said more than once that Eric had changed since he and I had been together.

But – but even if God didn't have the power to get Eric to come here, He should be able to send me down – down there, to Heck, where Eric was. I wouldn't mind being down there; Kenny went there all the time and he seemed all right. All the stories he would tell us about Satan weren't even that scary; they never gave me nightmares or anything. And by the sounds of it most of the people down in Heck were perfectly friendly, they just hadn't been very nice people in their lives. I could live with people like that, they were just like regular people, I thought. Regular people weren't nice all the time. According to Kenny, the only person anybody should really be scared of, or careful of, was Damien, but I'd've known that even if he hadn't made a point of telling all of us. We'd all seen what Damien could do, back in third grade when he'd come to warn us all about Satan coming to take over. He would give me nightmares, but as long as I had Eric with me, nothing like that would matter. Eric would protect me from Damien.

I bit my lip, and reread my letter to him one more time before tearing it out of the notebook and folding it up into a little square. I put it down on the cloud beside me, on top of two other folded squares of paper. I'd been trying to write Eric this letter for what felt like forever. I just couldn't get it to sound the way I wanted it to. I didn't want to sound too unhappy and make him feel bad, but I didn't want to lie to him either and pretend I was happy. He'd know I was lying anyway, probably; he knew me better than anybody. But if he didn't, and if I sounded like I was having a great time up here, I was worried that he would think that meant that I didn't need him, or miss him, but I did, and I wanted him to know that, but every time I started to try to tell him, it all sounded wrong. I slid the notebook and pen off my lap and rested my head in my hands. Being without him was so hard... I'd never felt this bad before, not even in the middle of getting a talking-to from my dad. It was like every little bit of happy I had ever known was just gone, and there was a big empty hole inside me where Eric should be. My eyes filled up with tears again and I felt my hands start to shake. It just wasn't fair.

"Hey... Butters?"

Sniffling, I lifted my head and blinked, making the tears fall, to see Clyde standing above me, holding a paper bag with both hands. It didn't really look like he was looking at me, more like he was looking at the ground near me, but I understood. I had a hard time looking everybody in the eyes too; it just made me even sadder to really see how upset they were.

"H – hey there, Clyde," I mumbled, wiping my eyes with my shirt and staring at his shoes so I didn't have to look at his face. They were real nice shoes, nicer than any shoes I'd ever had. I glanced down at the ones I was wearing, just plain white sneakers. Clyde's were black with rainbow laces, and they even had his name on them. He was so lucky that his dad owned a shoe store; he probably got discounts on everything. At least...he probably had gotten discounts on everything, until...

I shut my eyes tightly and tried my hardest not to let myself start really crying. My whole body was shaking now, not just my hands. It had just hit me that Clyde probably wouldn't ever get special treatment when it came to shoes ever again. Just thinking about that made me really sad. Clyde loved shoes...

"Um, I got – " Clyde started to say, then coughed, a really dry painful –sounding cough that made my throat hurt. "I got tacos," he said, and I heard the rustling of the paper bag. "I brought Stan and Kenny some, and I just thought... Maybe, you might want some too."

"Oh," I said with another sniffle. "J – jeez, Clyde, that was nice of you." It really was. Clyde and I—none of the other guys and I—had ever really been friends. Except Eric. And, well, Eric and I, we were more than just – just friends. But everyone else, they all had each other for friends. The only person who might count as a sort-of friend was Kenny, but even then he'd mostly hung out with Kyle or Stan, or Clyde. I'd just never expected anybody other than Eric to even, well, to even really remember that I existed.

Clyde kind of shrugged, with one shoulder. "Everybody needs to eat," he mumbled. "They're good tacos, too, I promise." He held the bag out to me with one hand, and pushed his hair out of his eyes with the other. "Mitch Hedberg, that comedian Craig really likes? He made them."

Mitch Hedberg. I had to think for a few seconds, but I remembered him. One of the times we had all been hanging out together—I think it was Kenny's birthday—Craig had brought over a Mitch Hedberg DVD. Eric hadn't liked it very much. He said it was stupid comedy that didn't really make sense, but I'd thought it was funny. "I didn't know he made tacos too."

"Me neither. I talked to him while I was there." Clyde said. "And he said he started running Taco Loco—that's what the place is called—like a month after he got here, because he was hungry and couldn't find a decent taco to—" He coughed. "To save his life."

"Well – well, thank you," I said, just to break the weird sudden silence. I reached up and took the paper bag, setting it down in front of me, but I didn't open it right away. I just started crumpling and uncrumpling the top of the bag, not sure what to do.

"Yeah. No problem." Clyde kicked at the ground with one of his really nice shoes. "I guess I'm gonna—"

"Y – you wanna stay and – talk?" I bit my lip, looking up at Clyde's forehead, still avoiding his eyes. I wasn't sure why I'd asked him that. I hadn't ever really talked to Clyde, not without other people there. But I just, there had been something in the way he had been standing there and the way he had been acting that made it seem like there was something on his mind. And, well, I just thought that since we were both – both here, and talking to someone about things that were bothering me usually made me feel better, maybe I could help Clyde, somehow. Maybe I could make him a little bit less sad.

"Actually..." Clyde slowly sat down on the ground across from me, and starting untying and retying his shoelaces. "I kind of... You really wouldn't mind talking?"

"W – well, jeez, of course not," I said, uncrumpling the paper bag and pulling out a wrapped taco. "Everyone needs someone to talk to sometimes." I pushed the bag over in Clyde's direction, just in case he wanted one too, but he shook his head no.

"Thanks, Butters." His voice was so quiet, but I could hear how sad he was, especially when he said my name. I didn't know what to do. If Eric ever sounded that sad, I would hug him, because I knew that he liked that. But that was different, he was Eric. This was Clyde, and I wasn't sure how he would react to a hug. I'd never seen him hug anybody. I was still trying to think of something helpful to say when he looked up from his shoes and said, "When did – How did you know you were... You know. That you liked him? Cartman."

"How did I know?" I blinked. I hadn't been expecting that question, but, just like with Kyle in his kitchen that day, I knew I had to answer it seriously. I bit my lip and tried to think. "W – well, I'm not real sure how to explain it, but it was l – like, all of a sudden one day, just being around him made me feel, well, good. Even – even when he would call me names, part of me was just – just happy that he was noticing me at all, you know?"

Clyde nodded slowly, chewing on one of his nails again.

"And I'd get this – this feeling, in my stomach, like..." I looked up, trying to find the right words. "Kind of like being afraid, but kind of – of excited at the same time, and all I wanted to do was be close to him..."

"You didn't like..." Clyde hesitated, twisting one of his shoelaces around his finger. "Like... It didn't like, freak you out and make you want to try to like...ignore it?"

"No," I said, confused. "Why would it?"

"Because he was... Because he was Cartman." Clyde's words came out so loud he was almost yelling at me, and I jumped. He'd been being so quiet, the sudden increase in volume scared me. But it hadn't scared me enough that I hadn't registered what his words were, and I was just sick and tired of my feelings for Eric being called into question.

"Listen," I started angrily, but Clyde cut me off, and I suddenly realized that while he was being loud, he didn't really seem to be mad at me. Looking more closely at him, he looked more like he was about to start crying than anything else.

"He was a guy. Weren't you afraid of getting made fun of forever? Weren't you—" His voice cracked, and he started coughing.

"I didn't s – say I wasn't afraid," I stuttered. "But – but I was more afraid of what m – my parents would do when they found out than what E – Eric would say. I c – couldn't not try."

"You weren't even afraid of what might happen if you told him and he just got freaked out, and then you had to see him every day and know that you would never be able to be friends with him again, because it would be too awkward, and then you would lose him completely, and he'd never even just hang around you to rip on you or anything and you would end up alone because he would go and find himself somebody else and you would have to watch them being together and know that no matter what he'll never look at you the way he looks at Tweek?" Somewhere in the middle of Clyde's jumbled speech, he'd started to cry. Really cry. He pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands and covered his face with them.

I couldn't do anything except just stare at him for a minute. I knew I should try to say something to him, but I was confused again. I didn't understand what he'd been saying. I'd heard him, all right, but I just didn't understand. What did Tweek have to do with Eric? What did anything about me and Eric have to do with Tweek? I couldn't figure it out. And what was that other thing Clyde had said? "...and then you had to see him every day and know that you would never be able to be friends with him again." I had never been friends with Eric before – before that day; the only time Eric would ever talk to me would be to make fun of me. Nothing Clyde had said made any sense. I watched him, as he sat across from me, and I could see tears falling through the cracks between his fingers. Poor guy... I guess he'd been more upset than I'd even thought. He must really miss Token.

Except, now that I thought about it, Clyde hadn't said very much about Token. He hadn't said very much in general, really—at least not around me—but when he did talk, it was usually about... About Craig.

"Oh..." I whispered, being as quiet as I could so Clyde wouldn't hear me. "Hamburgers."

Now I really didn't know what to do. Jeez, poor Clyde, I'd had no idea he felt that way, not just about Craig, but at all. I wondered how long he'd known that he had a crush on Craig. It sure seemed like it had been a long time, the way he'd just exploded like that. It was like he'd been trying to hide it, maybe even from himself. Or – or maybe he hadn't known for a long time... I bit my lip again and started twisting one of my shoelaces around my finger while I thought. That sounded – somehow that sounded more like Clyde, to me. It would explain why he'd asked me how I knew I liked Eric, if he'd just realized that he was thinking about Craig in a different way and he wanted to know why it was happening without coming right out and asking. It was like a way for him to make sure what he was feeling really meant what he thought it might. So he'd asked me, and he must have – oh, no, something I'd said must have really hit home with him, and now he must be feeling even worse.

I scooted forward, until I was right in front of Clyde. I had to fix this somehow. It was my fault he felt like this right now, even if I hadn't meant for anything I'd said to make him feel so bad. "Clyde?" I said, feeling my heart start to beat a little faster. I was nervous; I didn't want him to be mad at me. "I – well, I'm s – sorry, I didn't – didn't mean to make you cry."

Clyde said something, but I couldn't hear him because his voice was so muffled by his sleeves. I looked around. There were a lot of people on computer, but I didn't want to bother them. There was nobody near me that could help me. Part of me wished Kenny were here; he and Clyde were at least actually friends. And Kenny was so smart, he would probably know what the right thing to say was. I sure didn't, and I felt bad that I wasn't helping Clyde. That's all I'd wanted when I asked him if he needed to talk, and instead of helping, I'd just made him feel awful. I sighed, and muttered to myself, "Stupid."

Clyde sniffled loudly; it startled me, and I jumped. He lifted his head and moved his hands down a little so all I could see was his forehead and his eyes, and shook his head. "No, Butters..." His voice came out all growly, and he coughed. "You're not stupid. I'm stupid."

"B – but I made you feel so bad," I said, looking down and taking a deep breath. "I j – just wanted to make you feel better, and I didn't do that. It was just because you – you looked so sad, and nobody's really talked to you much since we've been h – here. And, well, I just, I know what it's like to be real sad, and I just thought we s – should all be able to talk to each other about things. I mean, I'm – I'm miserable without Eric, and Stan's miserable without Kyle, and you're—"

"Miserable without Craig." Clyde interrupted me. "I... I like him. Like, I like him." He shook his head again with another sniffle. "That's stupid. And the really stupid part is it took dying for me to figure it out. And now I'm stuck here forever." He covered his eyes again as more tears started to fall. "I can't do this," he mumbled. "I just..."

I wished I had more to offer him, something that would at least make him smile. I reached out and put my hand on Clyde's shoulder, not knowing what else to do. I felt so bad for him, it almost made me cry too. I couldn't even imagine how it must feel to be him right now; he might even feel worse than I did, being without Eric. At least – at least I'd gotten time to be with Eric before... But Clyde, even if we were all still together, Craig was with Tweek, and after everything with Thomas... I looked up, at the sky, and glared at it. Darn it, God wasn't being fair again. I was starting to think that church lied to everyone. They said that good people would end up happy. Well, I thought I was a good person. Clyde sure was a good person, and Stan hadn't ever done anything to hurt anybody. Sure, we could say that we ended up in Heaven at – at the end of the day, but we weren't happy.

"...and then he made him a fruit basket!"

"I know, right? Wasn't that priceless?"

I twisted my head around quickly at the sound of familiar voices. Not very far away I could see Stan and Kenny walking in my and Clyde's direction. I couldn't see them very well, but if I squinted, it looked like Stan was smiling. Well, at least Kenny had been able to make him smile. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, and I looked back at Clyde. He'd lifted his head and was watching Stan and Kenny too. I let go of his shoulder and slid back across the ground to where my notebook and pen were. I didn't think I could write my letter to Eric right now; I wanted to see how everybody on Earth was doing. I hadn't been on a computer in a while.

"Don't – don't tell them, okay?" Clyde said, just as I picked up my notebook.

I hadn't even considered telling Stan and Kenny anything Clyde had said to me. It wasn't my place; he would tell them if he wanted them to know. I wasn't even sure he'd meant to tell me, but either way I wasn't going to just betray his trust like that. "I won't. Promise."

Clyde nodded, just as Stan and Kenny got to us. Kenny immediately picked up the paper bag of tacos. I'd completely forgotten about the tacos.

"Sweet," Kenny said, pulling out a taco and offering the bag to Stan, who shook his head. "How are you guys?"

Clyde shrugged. Standing up, I said, "I'm – I'm okay. I'm going to go on a computer."

"Me too," said Stan quietly, his smile fading. "I want – to see how Kyle's doing."

Kenny dropped down onto the cloud where I'd been sitting, across from Clyde. "I'll hang out with Clyde, then," he said, unwrapping the taco and taking a bite. When he swallowed, he looked at Clyde and said, sounding more serious, "How are you?"

"Come on," I said to Stan, wanting to leave Clyde and Kenny alone, because... Well, just because I felt awkward being within hearing distance of other peoples' serious conversations. Eric had always said he didn't understand that about me. I just liked to give people their privacy, and not accidentally hear something I didn't want to hear. "There's a couple computers over here." We walked a few feet away to where there were two free computers beside each other, and sat down.

I slipped the headphones over my ears and double clicked the Google Earth button. I typed in, Tweek Tweak, hit the Enter button, and waited.

ERROR: 895230 NAME DOES NOT EXIST. An error message popped up with a loud beep. I blinked at the screen. That wasn't right. Tweek existed. I checked the spelling of his name, hit Enter again, and just got the same message. I sat back in my chair, confused, and looked over at Stan's computer just as he whispered, "Oh my God."

"What?" My heart sped up again. That never sounded good. "What's wrong?"

Stan didn't answer me; he just kept staring at his screen. One of his hands was pressing his headphones hard against his ear. I moved my eyes to his computer screen. Kyle was standing beside Token, who was sitting on his hospital bed. They were both staring at the bed across from them, which was empty.

"Isn't that...?" I trailed off as Stan shook his head. He looked like he was going to be sick. I could see Kyle's lips move, but I couldn't hear anything since Stan had the headphones plugged in. I bit my lip, then unplugged my headphones from my computer and plugged them into the extra headphone spot on Stan's.

"...should have watched him!" Token was saying. He sounded angry, but when I squinted at the screen I could see that he was crying.

"We should have known... God, Tweek." Kyle was crying too. I looked from him to Token and back again.

"I can't do this, Kyle. I can't lose every one of my friends." Token's voice was shaking uncontrollably.

I was about to ask Stan what had happened, but before I could get a word out, he closed the screen, ripped the headphones off his ears, and pushed his chair back, still staring at his screen with a horrified look on his face. I looked around helplessly, grateful when I heard Kenny say, "Stan? Stan, what's wrong?"

"Tweek." Stan's voice scared me; he didn't sound like himself at all.

"What about Tweek?" Kenny jumped up from the cloud and came over to us. Clyde followed him slowly, and I wanted to tell him not to come. I wasn't sure what had happened to Tweek, exactly, but he was Clyde's friend, and Clyde was already upset enough...

Stan didn't look like he would be able to say anything else without getting sick, so Kenny leaned over the back of my chair and looked at my computer screen. I heard him inhale sharply, and then he said, "Fuck."

"What happened?" Clyde demanded from right over my head. I slid down in my chair and closed my eyes. Something very, very bad was about to happen. I could feel it. "Name does not exist? What does that mean?"

"Fuck," Kenny said again. "Goddammit."

"He killed himself." Stan said slowly. "Kyle and Token said – they were talking and they said..."

"Fuck," Kenny said a third time. "That... Fuck..."

"He – " I heard Clyde swallow hard. "He – what?"

"Oh, jeez..." I whispered.

"Does that mean we'll see him?" Clyde said, a tiny bit of hope in his voice. "He's – he's Tweek, I mean, he wouldn't – would he?"

"Suicide...isn't..." Kenny paused. I wasn't facing him, but I could tell that whatever he was about to say wasn't something he wanted to say at all. "Suicide isn't a... It doesn't...let you into Heaven."

"That's not fair." I didn't mean to say the words out loud, but – but it wasn't, darn it! None of this was fair, to anybody!

"No," Kenny said angrily. "No, it isn't."

There was silence, except for my heartbeat pounding in my ears, and the sounds of Stan and Clyde both quietly crying. I didn't understand why any of this had been allowed to happen. It wasn't the way anything was ever supposed to be...

"Kenny." I almost recognized the voice that spoke from behind us.

I slid around on the chair so I could see who was there. Jesus was hovering in the air about eight feet away. He was looking at Kenny, and when I looked up, I could see that Kenny was glaring back at him.

"What?" Kenny was so intimidating when he was angry.

"My father has just returned. I told him you wanted to speak to him, and he's waiting for you, at—"

Before Jesus could even finish his sentence, Kenny snapped, "Go tell him I will be there in a minute."

"Very well, my child," Jesus replied, backing up a step. Jeez. Maybe even Jesus was intimidated by angry Kenny. He turned and started walking away, disappearing after a few steps.

"I need to go talk to God," Kenny said to us. "I won't be long, I promise. Just – stay right here. Stay together, okay?" He crouched down in front of Clyde, who had sat down on the ground and was staring down at his feet. "I promise you, all of you, it's going to be okay." Straightening up, he started walking backwards in the same direction Jesus had gone. I was the only one watching him go, so I was the only one who saw him mouth the words, 'Trust me.' at us.

I wished I could.