South Park © Matt & Trey.

Craig sits up, getting off of the bed and walking towards Stripe's cage. "What're you doing?" I ask.

"Holding him," he says, opening the roof part and allowing the guinea pig to crawl into his hand before lifting him out. He has a smile on his face as Stripe sits in his palm. It's a small smile, but it's there nonetheless and for some damn reason, part of me is wishing I could get him to smile like that. Wouldn't that be something crazy? God, I sound like such a gay homo.

"You're smiling," I point out before I can stop myself.

He pauses, looking over at me. "Am I not allowed to?"

"No, I've just never seen you smile before," I comment.

He stares back down at Stripe. "Do you have pets?" he asks, carefully petting the little furry head.

"Kind of," I shrug. "There are a lot of stray cats in the poor part of town… they come and go, but they chase away the mice and eat the bugs."

Craig only nods in response.

"Why do you like animals so much?"

"Don't you?"

"Well, sure," I shrug again. "Everyone likes animals."

"Exactly."

"Okay, yeah… but I mean," I start, "it looks like you love animals more than people."

"A while ago you asked me about my future," he mentions. "I brushed you off." A pause. "I want to be a veterinarian."

I smile at that. "It suits you."

"I don't like people much," he admits. "Animals make better don't have annoying opinions. They don't say stupid things. They're so simple. As long as you treat them well, they'll do the same to you. Unless they're scared, of course… but it's in their nature. They act on instinct. People are different. People are the opposite. They're the worst thing in the world. They're the reason this damn planet is gonna die."

"Do you care?" I wonder.

"No." Another pauses. "I'm just recognizing the world for what it is."

"Dude, you're so disconnected," I notice.

"The only way you can get through life is to stay disconnected," he murmurs.

"God," I say. "The world you see sounds fucking miserable."

"Well, what kind of world do you see?" he asks.

I contemplate it for a moment. "I see the bad, but I also see the good. I mean, yeah, there's a lot of shit, but if it's all you think about it can really bring you down."

"I can't see any good."

"I know. You need to look for the good, because sometimes it hides."

"Right…" He sounds unconvinced, but I suppose it's something he'll have to figure out on his own. There are lessons that can't be taught.

"So, what are you doing this weekend?" I ask.

"Token is having a get together…" Craig pauses. "He says it's a small get together, but I know he's just saying that to get me to come."

"Yeah," I laugh. "At Token's house? It'll probably be a fuckin' huge party."

"Exactly."

"Token mentioned it to me earlier. It should be good," I say. "Are you going?"

"I'm not sure."

"You should."

"Why?" he asks, putting Stripe back in his cage. "So I can make an ass out of myself some more?"

"You never made an ass of yourself."

"Right…" He turns to face me and looks searchingly.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Out of every damn girl you could choose to sleep with… who would have been more than glad to sleep with you… why'd you pick me? I'm male."

He's not gonna let this go. "I've always wanted to fuck a dude," I admit with what probably looks like a very lewd smile. "You're attractive and it just kind of worked out… And girls definitely don't like me as much as you think. Most of them actually hate me."

"Why?" he pries.

"Too many bad breakups, I guess. Then they talk amongst themselves and now I have a bad reputation."

He frowns. "So, what does that make me, then? Some sort of distraction?"

"Nah," I deny, though… maybe that's what he is? God, it sounds awful even when I admit it in my head.

"And you want to do it again?" he asks, seeming slightly rigid. "Even though you're straight and I'm not a girl?"

I nod. "I mean, it's no big deal… Don't read too into it. Friends do this kind of shit all the time."

"Are we even friends?" he asks.

"Of course."

I stand up and walk towards him so we're standing face to face. "So, what do you say?"

He simply sighs, remaining silent. When he doesn't tell me to back off, I move forward and touch my mouth against his. I open a lid as his lips part slowly and I watch him close his eyes before doing the same once more.

"Hey," I pause as we break apart. "You have your tongue pierced."

"Yup."

"I didn't know that." I guess I hadn't really paid attention to his mouth much until recently.

"Well, why would you?"

I just shrug, leaning forward and kissing him again. It escalates from here, but it's different than last time, and I don't know why. Maybe it's because we're both sober and we both know exactly what we're doing. Maybe we're no longer thinking of the consequences. Well, I don't know about Craig, but I'm not.

Both our movements are rushed, kind of desperate… It's like we need this and maybe we do, but for different reasons. Then again, maybe we're both looking for the same thing, whatever that may be.

And though it's unlike the first time, he still won't look at me. That much is the same. I guess I have no right to ask him to.

When it's over, I let myself out. I can tell he doesn't really want me to stick around. When I reach the end of the staircase, Ruby is sitting alone on the sofa. "Hey…" I say, forcing a happy face. "Where'd all your little friends go?"

"My little friends went home," she says tartly.

Moody little shit. "Oh," I murmur.

"Your sister called," she starts. "I was going to invite her over, but then I thought it probably wouldn't be a good idea."

"Oh, why not?" I frown.

"Because then she'd be forced to see you at your worst," she bites out accusingly.

"My worst?" I ask.

"Did you have fun?" she questions in a cold voice.

"What?"

"I said," she grits, "Did you have fun?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you have fun fucking my brother?" she asks in that same, angry way.

I let out a breath. "Look, Ruby –"

"If you hurt my brother, I'll hurt you," she tersely warns. "And if you tell him I said that, I'll hurt you worse."

Tough love from Ruby fuckin' Gloom. "Right, deal," I mumble before leaving. I wonder if Craig is aware that Ruby knows… God damn it. Scary kid.

When I return home, my parents are fighting and Karen is yelling at them in a sad attempt to get them to stop. Fed up, I intervene only to be served a knuckle sandwich by my old man. "Fuck!" I shout, nursing my soon-to-be-bruise.

"Don't stick yer nose where it don't belong!" Dad warns me, shaking a recently emptied beer bottle in my direction.

"Stuart!" my mom shouts angrily. "Don't hit yer son, you god damn drunk!"

I can't help but laugh out loud as I leave the room – mainly to ensure I don't cry instead. This is so fucking typical. I try to fix things, but I just make it worse and the fight ends up being all about me. It always happens like this – In a matter of hours I'll be lying in my bed, half awake and my Dad will walk into my room. He'll finally be sober. He'll think I'm asleep and he'll think I won't hear him say it, but I always do. "I'm sorry," he'll murmur, and he'll place a rough hand on my cheek, but I don't move. I pretend not to notice because, after all, I'm supposed to be asleep. If he knew I was awake, he'd probably stop altogether. He wouldn't come back. He's that kind of man. Proud, in ways. Too proud to admit his mistakes because there is so many of them. Pride is a curse worse than mine. I'll stick to dying.

The following morning, I walk to school with Kyle. "What happened?" he asks, referring to my bruise.

"My dad is a retard," I say vaguely, knowing he'll understand.

"Oh…" he frowns, looking solemn.

"Anyway," I shrug. "Craig found out I told his little secret. Eric heard us and made a scene."

Kyle rolls his eyes. "Typical fat ass…. He probably followed us like the stalker he is. Was Craig angry?"

"No," I admit and knowing that makes me feel even worse about it all.

"Well, that's good," he offers. "It was bound to happen. Secrets are hard to keep, especially when one knows as much as you do."

"Yes. I know many, many secrets," I wink.

"Oh, yeah?" His interest is peaked. "Care to explain?"

"Nope," I sing.

"Oh, come on," Kyle nags. "Who would I tell?"

"Heh… Okay, I have a fun one," I start. "Do you know how the girls make lists?" He nods, probably recalling the time he was wrongly graced with the title of ugliest boy. "Well," I continue. "They made one… listing what boys they think have the biggest dicks versus boys who they think have the smallest."

"Oh, my God," Kyle laughs. "Are you kidding?"

"No, I'm a hundred percent serious," I chuckle. "They have so many lists… about pretty much everything you can imagine."

"Wow," he snorts.

"So, guess who was number one?" I smirk.

He rolls his eyes. "Was it you?" he asks dryly.

"No, no," I snicker. "It was you."

Kyle's jaw drops and he starts laughing all over again. "No way… Oh, my God!" he covers his mouth in an attempt to suppress giggles. "How would they even compose a list like that and why?"

I shrug. "I'm not sure what sort of logic they're using. Maybe it's because you don't really try and compensate for anything. You're a nice guy and unlike a lot of us, you're pretty respectful."

"What number was Stan?"

"Like… four or something, but there was probably a bias since Wendy probably sees his dick on a regular basis."

Kyle shakes his head in disbelief over the entire thing.

"Eric was last," I announce.

"Probably because he's fat," Kyle snorts.

"I made the bottom five and it's not because I have a small dick, it's because the girls on the committee hate me!" I wrinkle my nose.

"Why?" he asks, still trying to stifle laughter.

"Because I've hooked up with a bunch of them," I admit shamelessly.

"And you used to talk about your so called ten inch dick all the damn time when we were kids," he adds. "Overcompensation, perhaps?"

Okay, so maybe it's not quite that big, but I swear it's a good size! "They also think I'm a pig," I finish, pouting. "So lame."

"It's okay, Kenny," Kyle pats my shoulder in a patronizing manner. "We know you're cock is a beast."

I roll my eyes at him. "Anyway!" I decide to change the subject.

"Yes," he says. "Did you speak to Craig yet?"

"Kind of… It was weird. He invited me over and we hung out a bit," I tell him. "I've never been to his place before. His room is very… Craig. It's totally plain and boring… but there's probably all kinds of shit hidden around where it can't be seen."

"Oh," Kyle chuckles. "Did you guys come to an agreement on what sort of arrangement you want?"

"Kind of," I say again. "I mean… we didn't actually say it in words… we just kind of… fucked again."

"Oh," he pauses. "Well… that's okay, right?"

"I think so," I shrug. "It's kind of obvious Craig has a hard time saying what he wants."

"Lots of people do."

Craig looks tired when I spot him during the last half of lunch break him. He stomps right past me and into the boy's washroom. I follow after him, opening the door. He's leaning over a sink, staring at himself in the mirror.

"Hey…" I say softly, noting the mark on his cheek. "You okay?"

He takes a breath. "I'm fine."

"What happened to your face?"

"Your friend Eric decided to start shit," he says, looking in the mirror and poking the bruise. "I punched him."

I frown. "And he got you back?"

"Yeah… We both got fucking detention after classes for fighting on school grounds," he mutters. "Christ, I look like a dumbass."

"Well," I say, pointing to my own black and purple mark, "I've got a bruise, too. We can be twins."

"Right," he snorts. "What's yours from?"

"It was a present from my daddy," I say in a joking tone, though I'm a hundred percent serious.

"Oh," he says.

"Yeah…" I shrug. "Anyway, apart from all that shit, how're you?"

"I woke up this morning and Stripe was dead in his cage."

"I'm sorry," I sympathize. I know how much Craig liked that little guinea pig. I saw it firsthand just the other day. It was one of the only things he outwardly showed his soft spot for. He was probably ready to hit the first person to piss him off and that happened to be Eric. Not that he didn't deserve it. I'm sure he did.

"It happens… He was old, for a guinea pig," he explains. "Wanna come with me to get another?"

"Yeah, sure," I say, surprised he's asking me. "Don't you usually bring Clyde?"

"I'm asking you this time."

"Okay," I relent, knowing he probably isn't going to say why he's picking me. I won't complain. I know it probably means something. "Want to skip out on last class?"

"Yeah," he says. "Detention, too."

"Won't you get a double detention if you skip?"

"No. I'm in there enough. They don't even bother keeping track of me anymore."

"Jeez," I chuckle.

He turns away from the mirror and I take note of his overall appearance. "Dude, have you showered today?" I ask. "You look…" I sagely trail off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

"No, I slept in."

"Well, come on," I say, gesturing for him to follow me. "You can shower in the locker rooms before we leave. I'll keep watch."

"Fine…" he relents.

"Heh…" I snicker. "Sometimes when our bills aren't paid I come to school early and shower in there so I can have hot water."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," I laugh. What a sad truth.

I watch him wash his hair like some sort of creepy voyeur. "Stop looking at me," he commands.

"How do you know I'm looking?" I ask. "You don't even have your eyes open."

"I can tell you are and it's weird."

"Why? It's nothing I haven't seen and thoroughly explored before," I say in a suggestive tone. Well, perhaps I haven't explored him as thoroughly as I would like to. I'd totally eat that ass.

He wipes the shampoo out of his eyes and gives me a dry look.

I just smile. "Take it as a compliment," I wiggle my brows. "It means I like what I see."

"You sound gay."

"Well," I snort, "this isn't exactly the most heterosexual situation," I remind him. "I also like seeing my art on you."

He shuts his eyes and ducks his head under the shower nozzle.

It's true. I've given out countless tattoos, but for the most part, I never get to see them after they're finished. Craig's the first friend who let me draw on his skin with permanent ink. Whether it is the simple words on his forearm, or the little bird on his back… I think it's pretty damn special.

He finishes rinsing his hair before turning the taps off. I toss him a towel and he dries off quickly, throwing his clothes back on.

"We ready?" I ask, throwing my book bag over my shoulders.

"Mhm," he murmurs, doing the same with his bag.