Craig removed his chullo from his head, throwing it to the floor.

Shallow breaths escaped Tweek's quivering lips as Craig placed his hands on the back of his neck. It was the most gentle thing Craig had done to him since... well, probably ever. Tweek felt sick to his stomach. He was nervous. He didn't know what Craig was going to do. The shivering boy wet his lips, keeping his gaze away from the only person who could make him like this.

The two boys were sitting on Tweek's bed, criss cross applesauce, facing each other. Craig's warm hands were shaking, and it made the blond hairs on the back of Tweek's neck stand on end.

Honestly, the sexual tension was unbearable.

"Look at me," Craig commanded hoarsely. Weakly.

Instead of looking at him, the mere sound of his voice made Tweek's eyes close tightly. He didn't want to cry again. God, he felt like such a pussy. He hung his head, trying to keep from looking at Craig. The hands on the back of his neck began to migrate to his shoulders, rubbing in what was probably supposed to be a comforting way, but this was Craig.

The same Craig that had hit him countless times.

Tweek tried desperately to calm himself. His heart was beating erratically; he needed a fix. "C-Craig," Tweek began, still not daring to look up at him. "I... I need ... ack, can you give me a minute?"

"No," Craig answered almost too quickly, his grip on the small boy's shoulders tightening. He knew damn well what Tweek wanted to do, and he wasn't about to let him do it. He tried not to lose his temper as Tweek spoke up again.

"I just need to shoot up a little, really fast, or I'm gonna have a seizure or something—" Tweek squeaked, trying to be a little humorous.

"No, you don't. What you need to do is sit here and talk to me. We need to be with each other right now." It sounded so stupid of him to say. He didn't say things like that. Ever. He hoped that Tweek didn't take it as some sort of romantic comment.

Even if he did love Tweek more than he'd ever love anything else. Even if he was so in love with him that he consumed his every thought.

He loved Tweek.

"...I hate you, Tweek."

"I know."

Before Tweek could try to say how sorry he was, yet again, Craig's lips met his in the softest kiss the two had shared since the very first time they had kissed.

Of course, Tweek started crying. His shoulders quaked and he allowed quiet sobs to come forth as the older boy's tongue slipped through the part in his lips, and into his mouth. Their mouths moved in perfect time with each other, used to one another's style of kissing. Craig slid his tongue against Tweek's, their hot breathing becoming labored.

It felt like the way it used to feel, back when they were happy. When they were nothing more than sixteen year old boys that thought they knew what love was.

Apparently, neither of them knew the first thing about love. Not if it came to this.

The soft kiss became rougher with each passing second, and each sweep of tongue. Tweek took Craig's tongue ring in between his teeth, tugging him forward. Craig grabbed both sides of Tweek's face and their lips connected with bruising force.

Tweek gasped against Craig's mouth, instinctively crawling over to straddle his lap. Strong hands moved down to the small of Tweek's back, pressing closer to him. Tweek tried to adjust himself on Craig's lap, but he was pulled back down against him.

Tweek was almost overwhelmed at what Craig was doing to him; sucking and biting at his neck, and groping his ass as if he would never get to again. Though, his actions weren't the same as they used to be. They were different; malicious, almost. But, those wonderful hands rubbed Tweek's inner thighs, drawing a soft moan from the small boy.

"Nn, Craig," His voice was soft and he knew that both of their intentions were anything but innocent. "Don't stop," he breathed.

"This doesn't change things between us," Craig snapped. "I still fucking hate you. I still want you dead. Doesn't mean you aren't a good fuck."

The words hurt. It was literally painful for him to hear Craig say that. Tweek almost flinched at them.

"…Just don't talk to me," Tweek rasped.

Craig stilled their current activities to stare at the boy on top of him. "What did you just fucking say?"

"Don't t-talk to me, Craig." Tweek felt like he was going to throw up. He let his head fall, as not to look at the only person he'd ever cared about.

Craig laughed bitterly and jerked Tweek up by his arm. His fucked up arm, at that. "You don't want me to talk to you," he spat, mocking him. He let out another low chuckle and pressed his forehead to Tweek's. "I'm going to make your life a living hell. You think AIDS will kill you? Let's see if you don't kill your fucking self first, by the time I'm done with you."

Tweek was thrown to the floor, feeling his neck bend in a way that he didn't think was natural.

He coughed, looked up, and Craig was gone.

Tweek cried the whole night.

"Really, dude? You're stupid as fuck," Kyle laughed, punching his best friend in the shoulder.

Stan sighed through his teeth and shut his locker. "Thanks, dick. Seriously. He's such a fucking douche, I really can't stand him. I'm just glad he hasn't been here."

Kyle nodded, some of his red curls falling into his face. "It's weird though, cause you know who else hasn't been here?"

Stan cocked his head, curious. "Who?"

"Tweek. Kinda weird, huh?"

The taller boy shrugged, shoving his calculus book into his bag. "Leave them to whatever it is they're doing. I'm sure it's no coincidence, but I really don't care, dude." He flipped his hair out of his face. It was getting sort of long.

Kyle smirked. He thought it was hilarious how much Stan hated Craig. Pretty much everyone outside of Craig's little clique hated him, but Stan's hatred was deeper than that. It was sort of creepy, considering the fact that Stan was usually a really laid back, neutral person.

The two left the school together, but Stan stopped at the door outside of South Park High. Kyle turned around when he noticed that the other boy wasn't walking along with him. He groaned.

"Dude, really? Again?"

"I'm sorry… She really wants to hang out, man. I can't say no to her. …You know?" Stan wore a sympathetic look, but Kyle continued to stare at him blankly.

He rolled his eyes. He figured that he should probably be used to Wendy coming first. "Whatever, dude. Wendy has you fucking whipped."

Stan looked around, making sure no one was around, before stepping closer to his super best friend. "You know I wish I could hang out with you, instead. You know I do."

"That doesn't make a bit of difference. It's not like you don't wanna hang out with her."

"Kyle."

Kyle glanced from side to side, and chewed his lip before leaning up and quickly pressing his mouth to Stan's. He smiled, his lips curving up perfectly.

Stan licked his lips and checked for any audience they might have had, before leaning down and kissing Kyle again, his hands wandering to that ass that won "best butt" for the senior mock awards. Kyle surpressed a laugh and shoved Stan away.

"Quit it, someone's gonna see us. Go fuck your girlfriend. I'll see you later."

Stan playfully pouted, and Kyle pressed his hand the other boy's face. "Bye."

"Love you."

"I love you too."

Stan watched as Kyle walked away, smiling stupidly. He leaned against the brick wall, shoving his hands into his pockets. He observed quietly as people started to depart from the school.

Kenny and Butters were walking together, waving Kyle over to them. Bebe was latched onto Token's arm, perky breasts bouncing with each step. Clyde was tagging along behind them with Red. Jimmy was hobbling out of the school, while Kevin held the door open for him. The group of goth kids quietly acknowledged Stan with nods of their heads and puffs of cigarette smoke in his general direction.

…And there was Cartman, antagonizing Wendy. Who was angrily approaching. It was clear that she was ignoring whatever he was saying, but she was pissed, and it was obvious.

"Hey babe, hey Cartman—" Stan began nervously. Wendy was pissed. And when Wendy was pissed, Stan was more "whipped," as Kyle put it, than usual.

"Get this mother fucker away from me," Wendy snapped.

"Pussy feminist bitch, you're gonna make your boyfriend get rid of me?" Cartman laughed, throwing his head back. "Stupid bitch."

"Cartman, don't call my girlfriend a bitch," Stan said routinely, wrapping an arm around Wendy's shoulder. They walked away from Eric, who was still laughing hysterically.

"What did he do this time? I thought you guys were cool. Didn't you just take him to school this morning?"

"He's such an asshole, Stan! He fucking came up to me and 'apologized' to me for all of those times he's been a dick factory, and told me he'd write my essay. I know he's a good writer, Stan! He's an amazing writer! So I let him—"

"Wendy, seriou—"

"LET ME FINISH! So I let him, figuring that I could trust him. Seeing as how we've been friendly to each other lately. And he came back today, and you know what he did? He handed me a paper that said 'JK CUNT.' Like, really? I know he's an asshole, but really?"

Stan was bored of the story, but he still smiled at his girlfriend. "Wendy. It's Cartman."

He was pretty unsure of exactly how friendly Cartman could possibly be. For as long as Stan had known him, he'd been a manipulative, self-centered asshole. He didn't think that would change, but something about Wendy made him tone down his assholery by at least twenty percent. He was sort of jealous of their friendship for a while, but it faded with time.

"I hate that asshole more than you hate Craig."

Stan laughed, hugging Wendy to him closer. "I doubt that, babe."

"Bye, Butters," Kenny waved. When Butters told Kenny that he had to be home for "family time," he figured that he would walk home with Kyle.

The two boys walked side by side, in step with each other. Their shoes crunched against the frozen mess of a sidewalk. They were silent for a while, but it was a comfortable and mutual silence. Until Kenny spoke up, that is.

"I'm kinda worried about Tweek. I think Craig did something to him," the blond said to no one in particular, his mouth twisting into a concerned frown. He was obviously in serious mode.

Kyle turned to his friend. "Really? I thought that maybe they were just skipping school and fucking or something."

Kenny shook his head and kept his gaze on the sidewalk. "No, dude. The last time I talked to Craig, he knocked me out. Because I said something about Tweek. I think."

"Woah dude, he knocked you out? Why the hell didn't you say something?"

The blonde shrugged. "Didn't seem relevant or necessary, I guess. But really, I think we should check on Tweek. Maybe Craig too."

Kyle grimaced, making a strained looking face. "No thanks. Craig isn't exactly a big fan of me."

"Oh, right, because you're screwing Stan."

Kyle's face colored and his eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not."

"Yeah, and I'm not screwing Butters," Kenny drawled sarcastically.

Kyle fell silent, feeling kinda weird that Kenny would bring any of that up.

"Why Butters?" Kyle suddenly asked. "Not to be an ass, but just… Why him? I thought you were tearin' pussy up, anyways. Butters does have a dick, you know. Contrary to popular belief."

Kenny chuckled and tightened the strings on his parka when the wind started blow harder. "I know. Kinda weird, huh? Probably because he's so fuckin' girly, he could be a chick. I dunno. He's a good lay though."

"I really never would have guessed," Kyle said with a laugh. "Innocent little Butters..."

"Yeah. You and him are the only two boys that I've ever wanted to fuck," Kenny mused.

"Yeah— Wait, what?" Kyle's head snapped in Kenny's direction, but said boy just began walking slower as they got closer to Tweek's house.

"Do you think that we should go see him?" Kenny asked, leaving Kyle pretty confused. How could he just change the subject so quickly after saying something like that?

"Jesus, Kenny, wait, I—"

Kenny ignored Kyle's protests.

"Fuck it, let's go. He probably needs someone to talk to, anyhow." Kenny tugged on the green sleeve of Kyle's sweater, leading him up the ledge to Tweek's doorstep. He let himself in, not bothering to greet Mr. or Mrs. Tweak as he dragged the redhead behind him.

"Ken, you can't just do that! That's rude!" Kyle shrieked, gesturing towards Tweek's parents who looked sort of confused, considering the situation at hand. Kenny shot a look at the red head that told him to shut up. And he did, when he was grabbed by the sleeve of his shirt again, and pulled up the stairs.

The stairway hall was weird. Kyle was so used to seeing family photos and school pictures hung up along that area. Instead, the Tweaks hung up awards that their coffee shop had received. Which were… most likely countless.

It was common knowledge that the Tweaks didn't really take care of (or care for, at all, really) their son. Tweek's parents reminded him constantly that he was an accident, and if he didn't do as they said, they had no problem throwing him out.

In fact, the older Tweek got, the less his parents seemed to give a shit.

Kyle followed close behind Kenny, who opened Tweek's door slowly and cautiously. Who knew what could happen if they startled him or interrupted something?

"Tweek…?"

Kyle had to force himself not to yell obscenities at what he saw. Tweek's room was completely dark, and the one window he had was boarded off. All over the floor were papers, pictures, and … syringes?

"Jesus Christ…" Kyle whispered. He looked over at Kenny, who was leaning over a lump under the covers on the bed. His hand inched forward slowly, resting on a shoulder that was presumably Tweek's. The lump turned over, and Tweek peered from underneath the blue blanket. His bloodshot eyes widened at first in shock, but shrank to slits again in realization that it was just Kenny and Kyle. Not Craig. Thank God.

"Tweek, dude, what's going on? Are you okay?" Kenny shook Tweek's shoulder a little bit, trying to get him to wake up and talk.

"Go away," Tweek managed to murmur weakly.

"Dude," Kyle moved closer to the bed and kneeled down so he could pet Tweek's blond mess of hair. He wasn't even shaking. It seemed like he was almost… calm. Which was when Kyle registered that something was really wrong.

"We're here to help you. Is everything okay? Where's Craig?"

"Urk! No! Don't, just stop!" Tweek sprang up out of the bed, clad in only a pair of boxer shorts with marijuana leaf designs on them. Kenny assumed that they were Craig's. "Just go, man! Fff-fuck, just go! Both of you!" He extended his skinny arms, struggling to try and push the two boys out of his room. (To no avail.)

His body was littered with violet bruises and cuts and scabs. More than the average human being. His left arm though, was the worst.

Kyle stared at it long and hard, and his eyes moved around the room, at all of the needles on the ground. Kyle's hands began to shake as he began to piece together what was going on. His head hurt.

He knew that Tweek did marijuana. Because, really, who didn't? And he assumed that he was cracked out and sniffed the rock, because… well, look at him. But... the big H?

"Tweek… you… are you shooting drugs, dude?"

Tweek was shaking again, and fell to his knees. His eyes were swollen and red. "Y-you guys gotta get outta here, man. Urk! Please!"

Kyle wouldn't have been shocked at all if his parents didn't know their son was doing heroin. Hell, he wouldn't have been shocked if they didn't know he was even in his room for three days straight, at all.

"How long has this been going on?" Kenny asked, moving to wrap his arm around Tweek. The two sat on the floor, and Tweek clung to him, breathless. Kenny rubbed his back and kissed the top of his head. "Hey, relax… We're here for you, dude."

Kyle walked around the room, poking at the shit all over the ground with the toe of his shoe. It was weird listening to Kenny being comforting. He knew that Kenny was the most caring person he'd ever meet, but he had never actually seen him in action. Kyle trudged over and sat down awkwardly next to the two blond boys that were currently holding onto each other. Tweek was talking quietly to Kenny.

"Gah, Craig sent you, d-didn't he…?"

"No, I haven't talked to Craig. I swear," Kenny replied, voice low.

"Are you guys fighting?" Kyle asked dumbly.

"He hates me," Tweek croaked. His hands found his hair, thin fingers winding into it and pulling. "He really d-does, this time, urgh! He's f-for real, FUCK!"

Tweek let out a strained noise and began to go into some sort of psychotic fit. His teeth clenched together tight, and his entire body convulsed.

"He's having a seizure, dude!" Kyle panicked.

"No," Kenny answered, too calmly. "I think he's going through withdrawal." He looked at Kyle with a twisted expression, holding onto Tweek tightly as his tiny frame tensed and shook.

Kyle watched Tweek in fascinated horror, his mouth forming into a thin line.

"Kenny, we really need to fucking do something."

A/N: Oh my God, I hate this chapter so much LOL. I like the beginning, but from there it's like... no. Haha. Maybe because I'm sorta stoned. BUT THAT'S OKAY. I might edit it a bit later, but it was just a really shitty chapter to write. Hopefully my next update will be faster. Thanks, reviewers! ;)