Okay, writing this Author's note now, even though I'm gonna type this chapter next time I get on word. To tired to do it now.

For Tweak again. It's also been decided by my South Park loving friend (Tweak/Sparkle) That I'm Christophe 0.0 A strange turn of events, but whatever XD This is also for my beta. Love ya, Swan. But not like that, in a best friend kinda way. Also for you lovely reviewers, love you all.

Names for the Goths borrowed from other fanfics. I've seen them a lot, but if you don't want me using them, say something. If you made up the names, that is.

Disclaimer: I own some arm warmers and black hair dye, but that's it. South Park ish not mine.

Category: South Park

Genre: Angst

Rating: High T

Pairing(s): CuRed (Curly goth x Red goth), Slight Ike x Kindergoth

Summary: Breakups never end particularly well, but you can't get worse than this.

~~~~ The older I get- Skillet ~~~~

The walls between you and I

Always pushing us apart

It was routine. The four Goths sat behind the school, dead quiet.

Henrietta was reading a Stephen King novel and idly puffing on a cigarette.

The kindergoth, though he wasn't in kindergarten any more, Georgie, was slumped down, staring blankly into space.

Evan, the curly goth, was smoking an almost gone cigarette as he stared into space.

Dylan, the red goth, was seated next to him. But Dylan looked just as far away and distracted as the taller nonconformist.

The goth couple had been distant lately, worrying Henrietta and intriguing Georgie. Neither would say anything about it.

Nothing left but scars fight after fight

The space between our calm and rage

Started growing shorter,

Disappearing slowly day after day

It was a few days later when it happened. Dylan and Evan were the first to the group's usual place, and so they sat boredly waiting for the other two Goths.

They didn't know what started the fight, but it went from the two sitting boredly, smoking their cigarettes in silence, to dead anger. Angry words were exchanged. Threats made.

"Nazi conformist cheerleader." Dylan hissed, glaring.

Evan smacked him. The force of the blow sent the black and red haired teen sprawling on the pavement. He was bleeding from a long gash, wrist to elbow, made by the bits of smashed beer bottles scattered on the ground.

"Dy-" The red goth cut Evan off.

"Just leave me alone." Dylan muttered, clutching his badly bleeding arm and jogging away quickly.

Henrietta later informed Evan that Dylan was hospitalized from blood loss.

I was sitting there waiting in my room for you

You were waiting for me too

And it makes me wonder

The older I get

Will I get over it?

Dylan sat silently in the hospital room, head turned to stare blankly out the window. It overlooked dark woods, and for that he was grateful. All the lights were off, except the lights on the machines hooked up to him. His parents had left a little while ago. Dylan didn't bother looking when he heard someone enter the room.

"It's over, Evan." He said softly, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Will you get over it?" Evan whispered, leaving without another word.

It's been way to long for the times we missed

I didn't know then it would hurt like this but I think

Three months later, Dylan's arm was healed. He was still hurt though. He missed Evan, he really did. Evan's last words to him at the hospital echoed in his head and he sighed loudly, slumping over and putting his head in his hands.

The older I get

Maybe I'll get over it

It's been way to long for the times we missed

I can't believe it still hurts like this

Evan took a deep drag on his cigarette. He was even more distant than before. Henrietta and Georgie guessed it was Dylan breaking up with him. Henrietta's cell phone vibrated and she walked a little ways away from Georgie and Evan.

"Henrietta?" the voice was soft.

"Yes, Dylan?" she answered, toning down her normal indifference for Dylan's sake.

"Is it conformist that this hurts?" she could barely hear him.

"No Dylan, it's not conformist."

The time between those cutting words

Built up our defenses

Never made no sense it just made me hurt

"I'm leaving." Evan sighed, getting up with a flourish of his trench coat, walking away in silence. He only cried when he was alone. Crying was conformist, but he seemed to be breaking a lot of rules lately.

Do you believe that time heals all wounds?

It started getting better

But it's easy not to fight when I'm not with you

Dylan's arm was healed, the stitches gone. He returned to school, wearing long sleeved shirts. Not just because that was normal, but to hide the puckered, white scar running down his forearm.

He had been feeling better, debating when exactly it would be best to return to his friends. He didn't really know.

What was I waiting for

I should've weathered the storm

I need to say so bad

What were you waiting for

I should've taken less and given you more

Evan's head was cradled in his hands as he sat in his room. Two streets over, Dylan mirrored the pose, seated on his own bed.

"Hello?" Evan picked up his ringing cell phone.

"I'm sorry, Evan. You're not a conformist. I still… I still feel for you more deeply than anyone else." Dylan hung up.

I should've weathered the storm

I need to say so bad

"I… I love you, Evan. But that's too conformist to say." The red goth smiled softly, a sickening and twisted form of something that meant happiness. He sighed and picked up the loaded handgun.

"This is so conformist." And then there was a shot, the thump of dead weight hitting the ground, and silence.

What were you waiting for

This could have been the best we ever had

I'm just getting older

"In other news, a South Park teen committed suicide today. Dylan Woods was only seventeen years old…" the news reporter droned on, but the three Goths sat there in silent horror. They bolted from Henrietta's room, crowding in the living room, staring at the photo of their long time friend.

I'm not getting over you I'm trying to

I wish it didn't hurt like this

Evan stared at the coffin. A closed coffin service, seeing as Dylan had blown his brains out. Not exactly something a mortician could fix to look normal enough for an open service. Dylan's parents were sobbing heavily. Henrietta was trying to keep from crying. Georgie had mentally shut himself down, clinging to his Canadian boyfriend.

Evan stood alone, staring at the black, polished coffin as it was lowered to the ground and covered.

"You didn't get over it, did you?"

It's been way to long for the times we missed

I can't believe it still hurts like this

~~~~ End ~~~~

Angsty goodness ^^ I'm depressed today, so I finished this depressing drabble. I don't approve of teen suicide, or any suicide, and just used it as a plot device. If you're thinking of committing suicide, please find psychiatric help.

Demi's done being serious now. I liked this one… me and my morbid sense of humor XD