Craig always spent his Fridays with Clyde. It had been that way since he could remember. Every Friday, Craig would go home with him and spend the night. When he was younger, it was a treat, something to look forward to every week – he was sixteen years old now and it still was. Craig was allowed a glimpse at a normal family and he got to sit down for a real meal with parents who really cared. It was a nice change.

When he was ten, he used to wait in the school parking lot for him. He would wait and wait, little fifth-grade feet slung over the curb, Red Racer lunchbox in hand, for the Donovans to pick him up from school. If Clyde had football practice, he waited. If they forgot him, he waited. Every Friday.

Mrs. Donovan would pull up to the curb, sometimes with Clyde already in the car, sometimes not; and that was Craig's favorite, when he had those few moments of undivided attention from a parent who cared. In elementary school, he would climb into the car, see her smile at him, and he knew. She would ask little things –how was your day at school, Craig? or, how's Stripe doing? – and he knew that this was what it felt like to be loved unconditionally, even if it was for a few fleeing minutes, for a few sentences. Every Friday.

It wasn't something he needed to survive, but he enjoyed it, and he wouldn't miss it for the world.

Saturday mornings were usually spent at the Donovan's, eating homemade chocolate chip pancakes and watching cartoons; Craig and Clyde did this even as they grew older, even as teenagers, and they sat in their pajamas on the couch, eating breakfast in front of the television. This Saturday, though, he exchanged Red Racer pajama pants for a jeans and a coat, pulled his hat over mussy black hair, and left early to meet Kenny at the park.

They met around noon. Kenny had brought a trashed old stroller and he pushed it around with some sort of dignified pride that Craig couldn't imagine ever deriving from something so destroyed. But there he was, strolling around, proudly displaying his dirty baby doll and beaten-down toy stroller like it was his pride and joy.

"Ever think you're taking this too seriously?" Craig remarked.

"Impossible, Tucker."

"I don't think you get extra credit for actually convincing yourself that it's a real baby."

Kenny had stopped suddenly, as if he'd forgotten altogether why he was here, and then he smiled like a kid and kindly asked Craig to just shut the fuck up and walk with him, for the love of God.

And they walked like that for a while, in silence, the wheels of the stroller making steady noise on the sidewalk, faltering slightly on bumps and cracks in the cement. Kenny would glance down at the doll every once in the while, give it a loving look, and Craig would sneer but he didn't speak.

They eventually sat down at a bench, where they stayed in the quiet. Kenny put his hand on Craig's, and Craig turned to speak, but before he could say anything, the hand darted away and Kenny spoke quickly, almost nervously, to fill in the emptiness.

"You lucky bitch," Kenny said to the doll, leaning back on the bench as if nothing had happened. "I never got any of this stuff when I was a kid."

"Me neither," Craig half-muttered, trying to wrap his mind around what the purpose of this outing was. If this was what Kenny had meant by 'parent stuff' he was confused. "You mean most kids are supposed to?"

Kenny laughed a cold laugh in a tone that called Craig a fool, and he said, "We're so fucked up. My parents never did any of this. Shit, they didn't even try."

Craig exhaled a long "oooh," a mark of a great discovery. "That's why you wanted to do this dumb shit?" It was a strange coping mechanism, he supposed, but so was stalking people from your window, so he didn't say anything more on it.

"It's not dumb, I didn't get it and look at me." He gave Craig a look that said, And you didn't get it either, did you? It was probably the most polite way to call his family dysfunctional. Craig couldn't mind, though. It was true, his family wasn't near right.

"I guess," he admitted, "my family just fucked me up in a different way."

Craig was met with understanding eyes. Kenny could read people well, and those eyes of his saw right through him and his front. Craig wasn't empty, not really. He was a terrified little kid, just like the rest of South Park. He had his fears, his nightmares; he worried over little things sometimes, late at night, and he didn't understand a thing but he tried relentlessly to. That's why he had that damned camera of his, to people watch, to figure things out. He studied people, goddamn it, he studied them like textbooks, like the Bible, like his life depended on it, and he never learned a thing and he hated it and he was so, so afraid.

He wondered if Kenny knew. He looked like he knew. Craig was afraid that it all showed on his face; all the things he wouldn't say, couldn't say, Craig was afraid Kenny heard anyway.

– I'm so scared sometimes –

Craig stared into the big blue eyes, eyes that had probably seen too much. Kenny cocked his head like he was waiting for Craig to say something, but the both of them knew there was nothing to be said.

– Jesus Christ you're pretty –

It took him a second to figure who had kissed who.

– well I hope to God it wasn't me –

It was over before Craig could even begin to think about it, and the next thing he saw was Kenny's face, bright and grinning.

– wait wait wait what are you grinning at what did I do –

With a second to spare, Craig forbade himself from reacting to anything that had just happened. The expression on his face was probably one of complete bewilderment, and speaking or doing anything at all wouldn't help his situation.

– if only my head would stop spinning then I could –

He didn't move, didn't breathe, only stared on, cold eyes squinted, like the answer was in front of him, like if he looked hard and close enough, he would understand.

– figure this out maybe –

Wheels were trying to turn, his mind scrambling to come to some kind of a conclusion, but his wits were at a halt.

– I don't fucking get you I really don't get you –

Craig was a quiet person, and this was why: words always seemed to fail him. He couldn't find anything useful, anything important to say about most things, so he stayed quiet. In times like these, he knew, speaking was the last thing he should do. He was never good with words, what with his simple vocabulary and nasally voice that never seemed to change tone. More than often, he didn't allow himself to speak, he didn't find it wise, but something pushed itself past that filter and through his lips, "Why did you do that?"

Kenny shrugged, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "'Cause I wanted to."

That was such a stupid and perfectly logical reason to do something.

Craig had kissed plenty of times before; he'd done much more than that. But he'd never kissed someone for the sake of the gesture and the sentimental value attached to it – only for the purpose of raw, selfish pleasure. He'd kissed drunken girls at parties for an easy one night stand; he'd kissed people for free drinks at a bar he'd snuck into; but he'd never kissed his mother goodnight, never kissed his sister when she was crying over a boy who'd been careless with her heart.

They didn't speak of the kiss again that day (just the thought of it made Craig uncomfortable) and it was dark when Kenny walked Craig to his house, still pushing that old stroller. It wasn't hard to keep conversation with Kenny, he found; the both of them spoke what was on their mind, bouncing topics off of each other, until they found something that kept them interested.

Occasionally, Kenny's glance would flicker out past by driveways, into the street. It wasn't busy; South Park wasn't a busy town, necessarily, but a car would pass and Kenny always seemed to flinch at it. When he turned back to Craig, his eyes were wide and urgent.

They were turning the corner to Craig's street when Kenny said, "So you're into photography, right?"

"How did you know that?" Craig had been in the elective at school, sure, and he'd been the proud producer of a show back in elementary school, but he'd never openly told anyone about the extent of his hobby. He may have tried to bring it up around his friends, but they pushed it off, and he didn't care to tell anyone else.

"I see you with that camera all the damn time, spying on people out of your window."

"Oh," Craig deadpanned. "Yeah, I do that."

They started to walk up his driveway, onto his front porch, where they both stopped to continue talking.

"You're a creep."

"I don't mean to be."

"It's okay. It's kind of cool, actually,"

"You think so?" Craig asked, and he was met with another question:

"Can you show me sometime?"

"Okay," he said, absent-mindedly. He'd never, ever showed anyone, and it was a little frightening to think about, but Kenny seemed like someone he could trust and – what did he have to lose?

Finally, Kenny shrugged, parked the stroller right next to Craig, and turned to walk back down his driveway. He stopped just before the road, turned backwards and shouted something – "Night, Fucker!" – before shoving his hands into the pockets of his parka and taking a step back into the street. A pair of lights illuminated the entire street (the dashed yellow lines trailed down the asphalt, his neighbor's houses, the orange-clad blonde boy standing in the street) and he turned to look at the car, shuffled his feet at just the perfect time, threw his arms into the air.

Kenny stumbled forward as the driver slammed on its breaks, honked, and sped off down the road.

Craig could have sworn, for a second, he felt his heart stop. But just like that, Kenny composed himself, waved a hand in the air, and disappeared into the dark.

A/N: i just wanted to make a quick thank you note for everyone that has reviewed, favorited, followed, or just read this. i'm pretty surprised by the response i've gotten, so thank you all so much! it means a lot to me that people are taking the time to read my writing.

on another note, i have no idea where this fic is going and it's a little scary. i just made a tumblr for all of my writing and ranting and stuff so if you want, go and follow me. my username is honkforcanada. as a final note i'd like to point out HOW HORRIBLE I AM AT NAMING CHAPTERS okay