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

A/N:

Thank you Zakuyoe,Ahm,Daughter Deception, and Rainbow-man:D LOVE YA!

Welllll and here we have another weird one. I was going to do a different idea first, but that one needs to be written better. This one is another one of those I like to write, so if you've been keeping up with the 100 list, then you should know what to expect… x3

WHOOHOO! NUMBAH 25! Do you know what that means? That means we only have 75 more to go! KICK ASS! Thank you everyone for reviewing and checking it out. I appreciate it all very much.

Title: The K Squared 100

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

Category: South Park

Genre: General/Romance

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

Theme 25: Fierce

They tell me I'm wrong. They say I don't know what I'm doing. But they've got it all turned around. They see my bruises but funny enough they never seem to notice yours. It's a sick world, ain't it, a sick sick world, but all I know is I can't wait to see you come in at night, seven o'clock and breathing whiskey into the apartment air, with that scowl on your face that seems to be a permanent addition these days. It's been a while since I've seen you wear anything else on it other than blood, but I'm sure I'm no better myself. I'm sure I've lost most of my facial expressions somewhere along the way, but it doesn't matter as much as it should. It's like I'm on this wave, this giant monster of a wave cresting and cresting and it's just never coming down, and I can't seem to come down from this high that I get from you, and you can't either, I know it, you come in and you're piss drunk and you're just ready to try and tear me apart and sometimes you nearly do and those nights, those are the best nights, the best, amazing nights ever, even if neither one of us can move too well in the morning afterwards.

Funny, isn't it, how it all started? It was just a slap first, and then a few punches wound their way in and then, and then the days started coming where you just wouldn't stop rushing me and I just couldn't stop boxing your ears till you had twin lines of red, red blood going down your neck and staining your jacket and your shirt and making you look so heavenly horrible, and then you said the words, with that smart ass half grin half scowl that you were already starting to wear, and you said them, said "You know, blood makes good lube, as long as its fresh" and you've always been so sarcastically offensively pornographic but suddenly everything just seemed to fall into place, and everything made sense from then on, right then, and that's really when I realized that nothing ever had before.

And now we're here, years behind us and people trying to talk us apart left and right just because they don't think it's healthy, the way we're going, and maybe some ways it's not, but I wouldn't change a thing, not even if I ended up in the ER again, I wouldn't change a thing. And I've got people telling me I don't see the wrong in it because I'm so used to it, and it doesn't seem to matter to them that I never saw the wrong in it, if there is a wrong in this, I've always gotten this rush through my brain each time I felt that pain and knew that I was giving back just as much, and just as good, but only with you, and maybe that's it, maybe that's the reason that makes it all so right, because I know I'm the only person you'll let lick the blood off your lips and you know that you're the only person I'd let lick the blood off of mine.

We got something they don't see, here, between us, we got something that they'll never be able to see. It's hard enough to see it ourselves, ain't it? But we've ruined our whole lives for it, and honestly I don't know just how happy you are with that fact but I know I wouldn't trade all the Masters at Harvard that God could send me for this, they're not worth half a minute of being in your company, just being right next to you and feeling you breathing next to me, it's worth more than anything in this world.

You're coming in through the door now, later than usual and more soused as well, which I don't mind, I'll just watch you as you fumble with the lock like you usually do, sitting here on the half-broken duct taped chair that's the only thing we have left from the earlier days, sitting here with my arms crossed on the chair back, watching you throw your jacket on the floor and run your hand through the hair you'd cut short yourself, all ragged and choppy because you can't really hold either the scissors or the mirror straight after five bottles of beer, but you did it anyway. You stink like motor oil and sweat and heavy cigarette smoke and alcohol but it's almost exotic on you, like you were born to smell like that and I shift on the chair because it's just so you it's impossible, really impossible, and it's just one of those things about you that's keeping me up on this high-cresting wave. I'm grinning now, but maybe more on the inside than the outside, because you take one look at me and growl something just barely understandable, your words heavy with red-necked hick accent, hailing back to those better days when hicks were cattle ranchers and not drunks that occasionally crashed their pickups into convenience stores and I say something back that I don't even remember saying a few seconds later, but it's one of those things I know could set you off, and it does.

I'm seeing stars before I even move, and what I think is my vision going black is actually the apartment floor and my shadow and there's the heavy taste of metal in my mouth but I barely get the chance to taste it and then your hands got me by my shirt and you're hauling me back on my feet. I twist around to look you in the face, you with your hands on my arms as if you're trying to twist them off of me and I'm looking in your eyes now, deep past the drunken haze that's clouding them, but all I see past it is a deep, deep calm colored by emotions that are a whole one-eighty from what you have going on outside and I'm grinning inside again because I know they're wrong, I know they're all wrong, and I get my fingers in your hair, and that's not easy, and yank back as hard as I could to get you to stop shooting your mouth off at me and I kiss you, hard and rough, and push your face into mine to make you kiss me back, and you do, even with your fingers digging holes into my arms, you're kissing me back and I'm bursting inside I'm getting so high I can't see the bottom anymore. I can taste the whiskey mixed with the ashtray flavor of your cigarettes and I bite your tongue when you shove it in my mouth, bite it hard and taste copper mix in with the whiskey and the smoke and you push me back, I'm stumbling over the fallen chair and landing hard on the floor, and I'm laughing as you straddle me, laughing as my fist meets your face so hard you nearly fall off of me, I'm laughing because you have that look in your eyes, and the bones of my arm are creaking painfully as you twist it in on itself, and I can see that it's going to be another amazing night.