South Park © Matt & Trey.

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After school, I make my way to Craig's house again. I feel like I'm here a lot lately. "Hey," I grin when he opens the door. "Your mom's not home?"

"She's at work now," he says, letting me in.

"Did you tell her?" I ask once we settle in the living room.

"Yeah," he admits. "When Craig and Token left, she came upstairs."

"How'd it go?"

"She cried," he mumbles.

"She cried?"

He nods, "But I don't think she was angry at me… She hugged me and she said sorry."

"Why did she apologize?" I ask.

"She said she was sorry she didn't know I was struggling," he murmurs. "She said she was sorry she didn't notice a thing for so damn long."

"Oh," I say softly. "Most parents like to believe that their kids are perfect and they deny it with every fibre of their being when there is something wrong with them – no matter how damn obvious it is." I'm kind of glad mine aren't like that, even if it gets annoying sometimes.

"She'll tell my dad."

"Are you worried?"

He shrugs. He probably is worried. Hell, I'd be worried, too.

"Hey," I decide to change the subject since I know he isn't going to say anymore, "instead of just letting me draw on you, you should let me draw you."

"Why?" he asks.

"Because you're a handsome dude and I like drawing pretty things."

He grimaces. "I'm not."

"Yeah, you are," I insist.

"Whatever."

I just smile, wiggling my eyebrows at him before leaning forward and kissing him. He's certainly not as rigid as he used to be.

"AHEM!" a young female voice suddenly interrupts.

We break apart and Craig pushes me away. Ruby is standing in the entrance with crossed arms. "When did you get home?" he asks his sister.

"Just now… You were probably too preoccupied to hear me open the door," she says, giving me a sour glance.

"We'll go upstairs," Craig says.

"Don't bother," Ruby mumbles, tossing her schoolbag on the floor. "I'm going out," she says before slamming the door.

"It's not you," I say before the thought can pop into his mind.

"What?"

"She hates me," I laugh.

"Why?"

"She thinks I'm a big whore."

"You are."

I roll my eyes. "Maybe she thinks you deserve better than me. According to most people, I'm trash from the gutter."

"I don't think Ruby gives a shit what I do with my life."

"She's your sister. I'm sure she cares. She probably just has a hard time showing it."

He shrugs. "Either way, I'm eighteen. I'm a fucking adult. The last person I need making decisions for me is my little sister."

"I guess so," I laugh. "I used to be really overprotective of Karen. I was so fucking scared something bad would happen to her. Nothing ever did… but the possibility was enough to scare me shitless. It's a shitty world we live in, but you can't protect people forever. They learn. She knows that now… She knows the world is full of blood and shit and piss and whatever else. So sometimes she tries to make my decisions for me. Sometimes I let her. I mean, I don't mind when she tries to take care of me."

"Heavy," Craig murmurs. He's silent for a moment, but I can tell he's thoughtful. "If we didn't have this sort of friends-with-benefits thing, would you still hang around me?"

"Craig, I'd still want to be your friend, even if we didn't have the kind of relationship that we do," I assure him. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know."

"Well," I shrug, "It doesn't matter."

"Why didn't you try and screw around with Kyle before?"

"I don't know," I say again. "Kyle is Kyle… It would be so fucking weird. I've known him since we were babies and to start that kind of relationship with him would probably change our friendship dramatically."

"You think?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I didn't want to take that chance."

Craig just nods along to what I tell him.

"You're different," I note offhandedly. "You talk a little more now. I mean, I would definitely not call you affectionate, but you're not as distant as I once thought you were. You're a little more open… to me, at least."

"I don't usually like touching," Craig admits. "I never have. People think that makes me cold… and maybe I am cold, but I can't help it. It's just the way I am."

"I know, Craig. It's not a bad thing," I assure him.

"I think that if they're so quick to judge, that makes them the cold ones."

"Yeah…" I agree softly. "Is there any particular reason why you don't like touching?"

"No. Some people just aren't fond of it," he says, pausing, "but when I was fifteen, one of my dad's friends but his hand on my thigh and touched my crotch."

"Ew," I cringe. "Sorry that happened…"

"That's life, I guess," he shrugs it off. "The bastard was so drunk, I doubt he even knew I was a teenaged boy. He probably mistook me for his wife."

"No, dude," I say. "That shit shouldn't happen. Did you tell your parents?"

"No. They wouldn't have believed me." He lightly shrugs his shoulders. "Sometimes there's no justice."

I let out a sigh. "When I was a kid, my scout leader took naked pictures of me. He got arrested, fortunately. In a sad and awful way, it was funny… Our parents got our old scout leader fired because he was gay. They were scared he was going to make us all gay, too. They didn't want us to have a gay role model. They wanted us to be boyish boys. The creep ended up being a straight, military type."

Craig frowns. "Do you ever think about it?"

"Honestly? No," I admit. "I guess I've experienced so much messed up, violent shit, that this doesn't even make the top ten."

"Oh."

I guess it's different for Craig. Craig's life thus far has been far less exciting than mine. He likes it that way. Nice and boring. "Either way," I shrug, "I think it was a hard lesson learned for our parents. They have to live with those consequences. You can't be judgemental."

"Yeah," he says again. "I know."

"You know how I slept with a teacher?" I mention.

"Yes."

I let out a sigh. "It was… Well, I didn't initiate it. She did. She told me I was failing and I started freaking out. She propositioned me and I mean… What else was I supposed to do? I was trapped. It's not like anyone would have believed me if I went to the principal. With my track record… they would probably suspend me for making up a lie like that. I was fucked either way, so I accepted the easy way out."

"Kenny?" he says my first name.

I shake my head. "Let me finish… Please?"

"Fine."

"So, it happened. It only happened once and she raised my grade from an F to an A, but still… God, I couldn't even look at her after that. I began ditching again and Kyle did most of my assignments for me. Apparently something like this happened to Ike before," I clear my throat. "Just because she was pretty, it didn't change the fact that she was a teacher. Honestly, that is such a turn off for me. When I think of teachers… I think of people like Ms. Choksondik and Mr. Garrison. Not cool."

"So… she –"

"Don't," I laugh. "I know what you are going to say. It wasn't like that. It was my choice."

"You hardly had a choice…" he says. "Don't you want justice? What she did is illegal."

"You were right. Sometimes, there isn't justice."

"Yeah… Sorry."

I just smile. I feel like it's the first time he's said that to me. It feels good to be honest with him. "Don't worry about it," I say. "Now, enough of the sad stuff."

He stares at me for a moment before moving forward and pressing his lips to mine in a brief, yet tender manner. "That all I get?" I ask jokingly before pulling him into another kiss, catching his bottom lip between my teeth. He lets out a soft and quiet moan as my hand slips beneath his shirt. "Is this okay?" I pause before going any further.

"Of course," he says.

I reach for the top of his t-shirt before tugging it below his shoulder and moving my lips to brush against his neck. I hear his breath hitch as I bite down, determined to make a mark.

"We should go upstairs," he whispers, voice strained. "My mom'd smack me if we stained this sofa."

"Okay," I say, kissing the bite mark before drawing back.

He stands up and makes his way up the stairs. I follow after him and eagerly begin to undress once the door is shut. Craig does the same before lying on the bed. I kneel between his legs, staring down at him. He can't hide when we're seeing eye-to-eye like this. He's completely exposed.

I let out a long moan as I slowly bury myself into the familiar, inviting heat, watching Craig the entire time.

I fuck him hard because he asks me to. He falls asleep afterward, and I feel inspired. I throw on my clothing and quietly wander downstairs to fetch my sketchbook from my bag. When I return upstairs, I sit on Craig's bed and open to a new page, touching the pencil to the paper.

He's lying on his side. His hair is messy. It's usually fairly tidy, but right now it's stuck up at odd angles. Bed hair… or, 'I just got laid' hair. I can see that little bird on his shoulder, and after spending so much time with him I'm beginning to get why he wanted it there. I'm beginning to understand what it means to him. Freedom. Freedom is something we're all seeking. I guess Craig is no different. He's human. Just like me. Just like every other sad fucking soul on this shitty planet. I think I'm beginning to see the softer side of Craig Tucker. Maybe that makes me special.

I stare down at him. His lips are parted as quiet, even breaths escape. He'd probably think I was fucking creepy as shit if he caught me staring at him like this, but God, he looks perfect, even with the scars… I guess this is my idea of perfection. Funny, I suppose perfection does exist. Perhaps Craig was right about that.

This picture is going to be perfect, too. I've never really drawn a portrait before, and I want Craig to be my first.

He remains asleep and unmoving for a while before finally stirring. I glance at the digital clock on his nightstand before setting my sketchbook down.

It's 6:33 PM.

"Craig?" I whisper.

Slowly he opens his eyes and carefully, he sits up.

"Did I hurt you?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he shrugs apathetically. "I asked for it, remember?"

"Why, though?"

"You know," he says tartly, "it's possible that I just like it a bit rough."

"Well, vanilla is a boring flavour," I smirk. Vanilla sex is even worse.

He rolls his eyes at me.

"Really, though, you're full of surprises," I chuckle, leaning forward and pecking him on the lips. I like that he's finally comfortable enough to tell me what he wants. "I drew something while you were asleep."

"Did you?" he asks, not sounding at all interested.

Nonetheless, I nod, reaching forward and grabbing my sketchbook off the nightstand. "One sec, lemme find it," I murmur, flipping to my most recent page. Once I find the picture, I hold it up for Craig to see. He stares at it for what feels like a long time, not saying a word. Maybe he doesn't like it…? "Well, what do you think?" I ask. "It's you."

"I don't look like this," he says.

"Yes, you do," I snort. "You look exactly like this. It's a pretty good drawing, if I do say so myself. This is probably the best thing I've ever drawn."

He takes the sketchbook from me and stares down at the paper. "Do I really look like this?" he asks airily.

"Yeah, you do."

"I like it…" he says quietly. "Can I keep it?"

"Of course," I smile, taking the sketchbook back and carefully ripping the page out of the coils. "Here," I hand it to him.

He takes it, staring at it again. "I'll put it somewhere," he says.

"Cool," I grin.

"Nice hickey, fag," Eric snorts at Craig the following day. "Present from the poor boy, I'm assuming?"

"Shut up," I hiss at him.

Craig doesn't say a word. He just lifts up his hand and raises his middle finger, giving Eric a big FUCK YOU.