South Park © Matt & Trey.

School is coming to an end and I've started working on a new south park fic. This time it's k2 again! My otp~ I've been having k2 withdrawal since finishing Cursed eheheh.

r&r !

Kenny's POV

I'll tell Craig I love him. I'll tell him, and he'll probably respond awkwardly, or dismiss my admission altogether, but I don't care about that... Well, I guess I do care, because I can't sleep and I'm crying in Stan's bathroom but since no one else is here I'll just keep pretending I'm not.

Hell, I've been crying a lot lately and it's annoying. It's as if that time back in Craig's room something in my mind just snapped and now I just can't stop.

"Kenny?" I hear a knock at the door, "Are you in there?"

Ah, fuck. Not now, Kyle...

"Yeah," I call, trying to make my voice sound even.

"Let me in," he says.

I turn the lights off before opening the door.

"Can't a guy shit in peace?" I joke.

He doesn't laugh, instead he frowns, "You weren't taking a crap, dude, you're crying… And most people don't do both unless they are Eric Cartman after eating chipotle."

I make a face, "Tsk, man… Fuckin' gross."

He cracks a small, tired sort of half-smile.

"Ugh," I groan. "Sometimes I really hate him…"

"Cartman?"

"No, Craig," I say bitterly.

"It's said that the line between love and hate is fine," Kyle offers, wrapping his arms around me and rubbing my back.

"I guess so," I grit, briefly resting my chin on his shoulder.

"You know," he says, letting go of me and looking me in the eye, "When you're upset, you should tell us."

I force a look of apathy, shrugging, "Dude, none of you were around."

"I know… I'm sorry, but we are all here now?"

"Yeah, but you are also busy dealing with your own love-problems."

"Yeah," he sighs, "But things are okay now."

"He chose you," I say.

Kyle nods. "You completely disregarded your own problems when you feel like someone needs you. You always do that… Ever since we were little kids."

"That's what friends are for," I shrug.

He shakes his head, "It's supposed to go both ways. I guess we were being pretty shitty friends. We didn't even realize you were sad."

"I'm not sad," I laugh, "I'm fairly content… I guess some stuff in my life makes me pretty fucking miserable, but all-in-all I'm okay."

I'm okay...

Am I?

Kyle looks apologetic, and I can tell he doesn't believe me. "Okay, well that's good at least."

"Ugh," I wipe my eyes, "Why does crying make people so damn tired?"

Kyle tilts his head to the side, "Well, people tend to cry due to something stressful, which causes the tears. Stress isn't healthy, and crying is like a release for all this stress and emotion you may be feeling. It's an emotional workout, and not only that, but the body is also working to help relieve you of this stress. Your tear-ducts are working, and you're facial muscles are moving. There's an old saying: 'it takes more muscles to frown than to smile' and it is true. I don't know about you, but when I cry I am certainly not smiling."

Trust Kyle to actually have the answer to a question like that.

"I guess so…" I frown. "Do you think it's too late to call Craig?"

"It's around 3AM," he shrugs, "He might still be awake…"

To be honest, I want to get it over with. So I pull out my crappy cell phone and dial his number.

Knowing Craig, he's probably still awake. He's probably drunk, maybe on his way home from a party or something.

"Yeah?" comes his nasally voice.

"Hey, it's me," I say.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Are you home?"

"Yeah."

"Can I come over?"

"I guess…" he says, "I'll meet you half way."

"You don't need to do that."

"Yeah, I do. I need some fresh air."

"Are you drunk?"

"Sobering up."

"Did you puke?"

"No, only you do that."

I roll my eyes even though he can't see it. So far, I haven't puked tonight. Hopefully it'll stay that way. "Okay, I'll see you in a bit," I say before hanging up and pocketing my phone.

"So you're going to see him?"

"Yeah," I nod.

"Good luck," he says, giving me a small smile

"Thanks," I smile back, "With Craig Tucker… I'm sure I'll be needing it."

"Also," Kyle starts, "Don't worry about Stan, Cartman, or I anymore. We've all begun to deal with our problems. It's your turn now."

"Okay, I'll try."

Kyle walks with me to the door. I apologize for fucking up the night. I thought that, for once, we'd make it through without anyone crying or puking. For once, Stan wasn't the one who ended up in tears.

Naturally, Kyle insists that it's all fine and tells me he'll be here for me. I thank him, he waves, and then I leave.

It's fairly cool outside, but nothing compared to our long winters so I can't complain. You can tell summer is starting to leave.

When I spot Craig, he's smoking a cigarette. He's wearing plaid pyjama pants, a large sweater, and boots. His hair is sticking up from beneath his blue hat and he looks messy, but still perfect. I was lying grossly when I said he was ugly. Craig Tucker could be described as being many negative things, but ugly definitely isn't one of them, even with slightly crooked teeth. In a way, they're endearing.

I don't say anything when we're face-to-face, I just wrap my arms around him and press my face into his shoulder.

He doesn't push my away, he just pats my back slowly with the hand that isn't holding the cigarette.

"Rough night?" he asks.

"Not really," I say, "It was nice… Being with them all again like that was nice. It felt like we were young again."

"That's good…" he mumbles. "Hey, what's wrong with you? You're shaking."

"It's cold outside, retard."

He's probably rolling his eyes at me right about now.

"Craig?" I ask, pulling away.

"Mm?"

"I meant it when I said I loved you. I know that in its context, it sounded like a joke… but it wasn't a joke. I'm serious. I… I really love you." I probably sound desperate. Shit, I guess I kind of am. I need him to understand that I'm not joking around this time.

He's silent for a long time until finally saying, "Oh."

I laugh, even though it isn't funny. "Is that all you have to say?"

He just stares at me. I can't quite read the expression on his face, but whatever it is, I know it's not the one I want it to be.

I knew it would happen like this, but at least it's over now.

I begin to turn away, but he grabs my arm.

"Sorry," he says.

I force a smile, "Don't be. This isn't your fault. It's literally all mine."

"Come on," he lowers his grip to my wrist, "We should talk about this…"

"We don't –" I start to protest, but he drags me with him. He tosses the cigarette and wraps his hand around mine, shoving them both in his pocket.

"You're holding my hand," I state.

"So you can't run away."

Of course he'd have an excuse like that ready.

I guess I run away from a lot of things. Maybe that's what I'm doing when I'm busy saying I'm happy, I'm okay, I'm fine.

The walk to his place was silent and mildly uncomfortable. His expression didn't change once. I often found myself looking over just to see if it would.

"What did you do tonight anyway?" I question after we've settled on his bed.

"Went to Bebe's with Clyde, Token, and Nichole," he mumbles back.

"Ah, how are they all doing?"

"They're fine."

"That's good…"

"Why don't you hate me?" he asks suddenly.

"Because I love you."

I guess the more I say it, the easier comes out.

"Tch… that isn't what I mean," he says.

"I know," I laugh. "I don't resent you for loving someone who isn't me… I used to, but not anymore. It was stupid of me."

I think it's something I've gotten used to. Besides, I can't be angry at something that fits together so perfectly. Craig and Tweek… I'm not surprised in the least and never before have I met two people more dependent on each other for survival. If they don't make up they're just going to continue to waste away until there's nothing left of either of them. I hope for both of their sake they find balance with each other soon.

"How long have you felt like this?" Craig asks in an uncharacteristically gentle voice.

"Heh," I force a smile, "Trust me when I say a really long time."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" he turns his head to look at me.

"Because, no matter how much I hoped, I knew you couldn't return it. What would be the point?"

Craig frowns, his eyebrows drawing together, "How do you know that, though?"

"Because you're into Tweek."

"Tweek is sick," he says, "I don't know if he'll ever get better. He might not. Plus, I've spoken to him about this sort of thing before. He has told me more than once that he doesn't see himself ever being with someone. He doesn't think he could handle the pressure of it…"

"That may change... And besides," I shake my head, "I don't want to be second best."

"That hasn't stopped you before…"

"Craig, not cool," I scowl.

"Okay, sorry," he holds up his hand, "Give me some time."

"It's okay, Craig, you can't just stop loving the person you love."

"I could learn to love you?"

"It means a lot to me that you're actually willing to try… But even if you could, I wouldn't want you to."

"I didn't think you would."

"I love you," I mumble, my voice sounding wet.

"Yeah… I know that now," he says humbly, staring up at the ceiling.

"I love you," I repeat.

"Yeah," he says again, and then, "I'm sorry."

I let out a breath and wipe my nose on his blanket.

"Gross, dude," he says.

I just laugh, though it sounds hollow, even to my own ears.