Expo '86

by Vcorrigan

Enter the psyche of society's base, add in numerous illegal substances, and you've got the expo of the century. Because neither can admit their faults, their feelings, the one thing that matters may be lost through their projections onto others. Tweek/Craig

7. 2 1 Tangled

2.1 Tangled Skein, Omitted Links

tan·gled v.

1. To mix together or intertwine in a confused mass, snarl.
2. To involve in hampering or awkward complications; entangle.
3. To catch and hold in or as it in a net; entrap.

It's a two-sided coin, the publicized relationship dangled out for those willing to snoop. A complete love/hate struggle and internal turmoil, shifting the sands of Time and Fate. But that is the key, that is what's oh-so wrong, for the personified varients should never be tampered with. One choice, one mind, interlocked by twisted fantasies.

---

The fifth grade flashed by in a blur, pictures accompanying strong memories. The whole year seemed nonexistant, a dizzying bout of colour and noises, only able to be identified by the reoccurring memories. It was a sick game his Self was playing in the chaos of being in control, and one that could not possibly be won.

A birthday party. Brightly coloured balloons, confetti showering the air, laughter and games. Gag gifts and real presents, delighted smiles, movies and burnt popcorn. Hide-and-go-seek, tag played in the streets with bust of shrilling laughter and yelling "safe, safe!". But no Craig.

Halloween night, mischief played as the sun set. Treats and sweets, grinning neighbors and children's foul. A vampire frolicking around, black curly hair now adorning a single white strip, playing tricks on younger kids and stealing his weight in candy. A werewolf growling and howling, stomping feet and slashing claws, flashing blue eyes, and a fight to the pretend death. A bat standing near, fake blood scattering the streets as the two friends fought. But no Craig.

Holiday tidings, windows decorated with flashing technicolour lights, one illuminating with a Menorah. Cheerful caroling at twilight, light falls of snow glittering through the night. Bitter winds, kitty-eared hats and town bells singing in the mountain air. A gift written in French, a call from an accented voice. Mocha-mint coffee by the fire as claymation Christmas specials dominated the television. But no Craig.

Spring birds chattering as flowers bloomed, alerting allergies to the attacks to come. Twin girls shrieking and dancing in frilly dresses, an artist scowling and hiding. A redhead bringing chills and thrills, sheep trotting in pastures, laughter and games through corn fields. But no Craig.

A heat wave drying up the earth, bringing scorching humidity to the mountain town. Swimming in an inside pool, a mother bringing snacks to a son and his friends. Rumours and tales, gossip and red cheeks, splashing in embarrassment turning to an all-out war. Camping under moonlight by a glistening pond, cicadas lulling young minds to a restful sleep. But no Craig.

Had he not have accepted the offer, had he have thought about the consequences the Bat King laid out, the year would be complete instead of fragmented bits and pieces.

When Damien had learned of Curson's whereabouts, he'd just tilted his head and spoke in that rattled, velvety syllabus language Tweek had heard in his mind on several occasions. Warmth and amusement had filled him before his mouth and body wasn't his own, and a purring, bemused voice answered in the same guttural language.

Then a sickening, lurching feeling of being torn in two happened as the body sank through the line of Earth and Hell, switching planes of existence, being remade in the Damned realm. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but not painful, the body was just very aware of everything as organs were reconstructed, which led to the nauseous, sickening tipsy-turning sensation. It was over in seconds as his feet landed on marble, a shudder running through his body as the climate became intensely heated, but not enough to dehydrate a person.

Looking around, a person wouldn't believe they were in Hell. A large, Victorian styled manor house sat in the middle of the plot, gated by iron, as steep rocky cliffs domed around the house, and the Hall sitting in a valley of magma down the way. Marble led around a stone fountain spewing thinned blood, to stairs leading up to the huge oaken doors leading inside the house. The brink of night and evening, something a bit more muted and grey to be twilight, cast long, twisted shadows over stone and Hellian plants, beautiful in their own right but poisonous all the same.

Damien walked with a ground-eating stride to his left, a bit in front as if warding any of the demons off that had slithered out of the shadows to watch with beady, flaming eyes, bloodlust written across their faces. Tweek edged to the right, hands going up to grab the wrist of the body standing there, but was surprised. Looking up he saw crimson eyes staring down at him, blankness in the stony face he knew so well. Curson shook off his grip, wrapping clawed fingers around his hand and smiled, the pointed, carnivorous teeth drawing some sick sense of comfort. But his words floated back to him as they passed Hellians of all sizes and shapes, Because Satan fears me. Noticing how those demons backed off, catching sight of the much more human looking one, it must have been true, he figured as Damien led them inside the manor and shouted out orders, voice echoing in command.

"Where the fuck is Asodemy? Get him out here now!"

Feeling Curson tense at the mentioned name, he looked up, expecting to see some sort of emotion, but only found a slight frown, baring the tips of his pointed teeth.

"Who—"

"What is it you'd like, puppy?" a cultured, high-pitched voice asked from the grand stairs leading to the upper floors. Taking two at a time was a human, except not. Golden-brown swirling with mottled greys and muted orange told more of the race then the long membranous wings folded behind him, tail slashing the air, feet and hands that ended in sheathed claws, pointed fanning ears, solid gold eyes cut in half by vertically slit pupils, or short nose that curved upward to resemble a panther. The liquid, predatory way he moved, as if he had more bones then a normal human, also called this male out as a pure-blooded Hellian demon.

"I'd like you to use any sort of restraint possible, and call out my father, Lord Asmodeus," Damien hissed, emphasizing his title with a snarl. Asodemy bowed at the waist, eyes flicking to Curson and coiled, but didn't stop his stride until he was standing in front of Damien.

"My apologies Young Lord. You're father is in the Hall and wishes to speak there about this…inconvenience."

Damien's eyes flashed red for a second as he growled curses, pacing, the air around him crackling like static. "Fine, you'll escort our guest then." With a final curse he sunk into the ground, disappearing, Tweek knowing he was probably going back to Earth to cause chaos.

Asodemy's gaze traveled up and down Curson, eyes swirling as he placed hands on his hips, and finally looked at Tweek. The blonde stilled under the scrutiny, stepping closer to the Bat King as he shirked. Curson's gaze didn't bother him, he knew it too well to be unnerved, but this unknown demon, eyes holding the weight of ages and knowledge was too much, especially now when he was still reeling with the fact he was in Hell to begin with.

"So you have been reduced to being Damien's bitch-boy," Curson's smug, purring voice finally asked, splitting the silence. Tweek felt the demon's gaze lift and fall onto the bat thingit. "A High King of Hell with seventy-two legions under his control and the entire second circle of Hell. And yet, here you are bowing to the little prince. Have you lost all decency since I have been gone?"

"Hell has changed, grown, just like Earth has. I know when to fight—and I know when to serve."

By then a hostel tension had formed between them, crackling the air with restrained power. Neither moved as Tweek slid behind the Bat king, squeezing his hand hard enough to turn his knuckles white. "You were not made to serve, to be the puppy's nanny. You were made to command and have others serve you. I did not put you through the paces for hundreds of years for you to come out of it kissing the Hell-pup's ass."

Asodemy stepped forward, wings flaring to their full expanse behind him, sheathed claws sliding from the skin as bones shifted, tips glistening in what Tweek could only assume was poison. "So you expect me to kiss your ass, after all the years you've been safely hidden away. You expect everything to be how it was, is that correct? Well I'm afraid to inform you that I'm now at a higher position you ever were."

Tweek looked upward at Curson, wondering what he was going to do to that insult. He just cocked his head, a slow, arrogant smile spreading over his lips, Asodemy's gasping breath drawing Tweek's attention. The demon was floating a meter off the ground, face turning an unhealthy shade of purple as a phantom hand strangled him. "You might have the higher position, but do not fail to remember who Satan is frightened of, and why he is."

"If you want to stay alive, I'd suggest letting Asodemy down, old son," a silky, cultured voice said, deep and commanding. Curson just snorted, lowering the demon until his feet touched the ground, but the phantom hand didn't leave. The blonde looked around the Bat King's leg, watching a goat-like thing walk down the stairs this time, normal looking hands on his hips. He looked human enough in body-structure, but the white skin, solid black eyes, pointed ears swiveling, feet that turned in delicate hooves, imp-like tail, and reptilian wings shimmering translucently told differently. But he was not Hellian Tweek could tell that much by the gentle glow that ebbed around him, he was something in between angel and demon.

"Well, well, well, it is good to see at least one of you still has his balls intact. You always were the more sensible one, Sammael."

Tweek shuddered, recognizing the name associated with the High King of Hell. Sammael was the fallen angel of death, not a true Hellian because he still worked as God's executioner, but not accepted into the circle of Heaven. He was the snake that had tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden, and was known to be his own entity.

With a flip of his wrist, Asodemy landed on the floor, hands on his knees as he gasped for breath. Sammael frowned as he spotted Tweek, but his gaze wasn't nearly as cutting as the other's had been—it was just deadlier. "More sensible, or the one you feared more?"

"Feared?" an amused snort, crossed between a laugh. "Do not forget I trained you just like I did Asodemy. I made you, and I could break you just as well."

A slow, sleepy smile crossed Sammael's face as he took a step forward, hand reaching out to Tweek, tendrils of blue unwrapping from around his hand. With a snarl Curson shifted his weight, putting himself in front of Sammael, eyes narrowed but no defensive stance taken. "You can't have him."

Tweek buried his face in Curson's pants, wanting it all to go away, wanting to be back in his room, under the safety of the sheets. Even with the protective edge in the Bat King's voice, it didn't make him feel any better about being in Hell.

"And neither can you," Sammael said carefully, taking the step back so he would ease down. "Want to be a good boy and walk without restraints to the Hall, or are you going to fight me for it?"

Curson shrugged as he turned, knelt and picked Tweek up. The blonde squeaked in surprise before clinging to the oddly warm body, and stuffed his face into the crook of his neck. A clawed hand held him on the hip as the other ran soothing circles across his back. Without waiting he stamped out the door, the two Hellians flanking him on either side.

His mind reeled. Curson was being nice, why? There had to be some alternative motive to his pleasantness. Or was it because they were on a different playing board he felt like it was his responsibility to keep the boy alive in the midst of Hell's teeth and claws? He wasn't sure, didn't really want to know, because he felt that if he did it would ruin this feeling of security. But what were they doing here, what was he doing here? Surely it had to go against some sort of rules and protocol, right? And how were these three related, why did the other two stand down to Curson?

Seeming to read his mind, the bat thingit shifted his weight, the hand running circles falling to his side. "I am older then they are, I was in the first battle front on Purgatory's ground in the wars against God. Asodemy was a young pup in the first wave and siege, so I was given the task to train him as a general for a second wave if it ever happened. On the contrary, Sammy did not fight in the wars as he was a good little angel of plight, but happened to be kicked out of Heaven after a rather large mistake on his part.

"The warfare ended when it was quite obvious we were accomplishing nothing against those we had worked with before. But the two were intimidated by Lucifer's backbone as he began to sculpt the system of Hell, and came to me. Lucifer was at first hesitant to allow my small reign over them, but decided that it would take all of Hell to take me out. In short, the two puppies eavesdropping behind us and I were quite the force to be reckoned with."

Tweek glanced over Curson's shoulder, watching the two and shuddered, suddenly cold despite the pulsing heat ebbing from the domed cavern's walls. It was only then he noticed that the Lord of all things nasty had no wings like the other two, although in his subconscious he always did.

"You don't have wings," he squeaked, terribly insecure in his surroundings. A throaty chuckle and snort answered him.

"You heard Damien's tale of that, all of the Grigori's wings were cut off and carved into the shoulder blades. Your Self finds it more appealing that the Bat King would have wings like those he reigns over, though."

"Oh."

By then they'd reached the shadow of the Hall, a great black stone building carved into the cliffs, dominating the desolate valley like a Cathedral of death. Pointed towers reached out of sight, implike gargoyles mounted high above the grandeur doors, eyes of pestilence watching everything in sight, guarding. Around the arched doors were carvings of the same imps fornicating, dragging woman down to Death as disease spread over children. At the sight Tweek felt his stomach lurch and drew his eyes away, biting his lip hard enough to taste blood. This was the cruel, vicious Hell of stories he knew, each layer of devils representing Dante's circles of Hell. Behind the doors would be the one that had implored Hell to be created, that had waged bloodshed upon the Creator.

Before Tweek could protest admittance into the building, the doors swung open, grating on the marble floors, iron of hinges squeaking their own protest to being used. Stagnant, static-filled air washed around him, skin tingling where it touched, and he knew he'd have to look eventually. But not until he had to.

"Put him down!" a thunderous voice boomed, echoing throughout the vaulted ceilings, power laced in the words. The walls seemed to shake, backing up the command of the speaker. Tweek jumped and whipped toward the voice, spotting the huge form of Satan sitting in a throne made of yellowed bones, clawed hands grasping the arms hard enough to chip fragments off, bony knees crossed as the muscular legs tapered into delicate hooves. Golden eyes narrowed, a tick starting in the clenched jaw, pointed ears twitching occasionally. Even knowing this leader of Hell was a flaming homosexual, seeing him there among his glory, Tweek couldn't help but feel frightened, blood draining from his face at an incredible speed.

Curson just cocked his head, clawed hands tightening on the blonde. "Where are your manners? You were supposed to ask how well I have been in the Godforsaken realm of Eden."

Satan's eyes narrowed further, flicking to the two that had flanked him as they stepped away on either side, moving closer to the throne, but didn't hurry. "Don't forget your oath to me, Curson."

"It was broken when you evicted me from Hell, High Lord, you have no say over my life and actions."

"Yet here you are. Put him down."

"And if I refuse, High Lord?"

A glare, narrowed eyes—and finally a defeated, angry sigh. Satan pinched the bridge of his nose, smoothing out the wrinkles between his brows. "Jesus fucking H Christ, stop being such an incredulous stubborn bitch and let the boy go. Do you really think I'm going to be a dick and kill him? He's a goddamned playmate of Damien, and I've met his mother on several occasions, and do not want to face her wrath."

Curson snorted as he knelt down, gently but firmly unwrapping the shaking Tweek's arms from around his neck, fingers entwining in his messy hair, reminding him of his Mom's touch. Chocolate eyes drifted up to the Bat King, wondering why he felt so protected with the thing that had scared him shitless in more situations then one.

"You would rather deal with my wrath then his sweetness'? I thought after your little pigfucking Saddam died you got pissed, not turned into a pussy."

Huffing off the unpleasant reminder of his ex-lover, Satan steepled his fingers over his lips, feigning a bored look as Asodemy took up post on his left, Sammael remaining between the two. "You're here for a reason. What made you come out of hiding?"

"Personal reasons."

"Why dally in the affairs of a nine year old? What is so special about him?" Tweek's heart raced as he shirked from Curson's gaze as it fell on him for a split second before:

"Personal reasons."

"Yeah, you're a fucking homosexual pedophile. Like your boys submissive, don't you? Like it when they scream your name, huh?" Asodemy's tittering, sugar sweet voice asked, poison laced in the words with bitter hate. Startled by the accusation, the blonde looked over to the fuming Hellian, coiled in on himself, wings flared behind him as if waiting for a reason to attack.

"Still pissed off that I did not show you a good time before leaving, that you did not taste Hell's Whore?" Curson purred, amusement thick in his coated accent. A snarl of rage erupted before the aircurrents changed, wings flaring and lifting the demon from the marble, swinging low with unsheathed claws drawn in an offensive manner. Realizing Asodemy was aiming at him rather then the bat thingit, Tweek squealed in fright, frozen in his place. He shut his eyes, diving down into his Self, reasoning that shattering his sanity was a better death then being torn open. However, he didn't even reach the Breakdown point before something slammed him upward, back into Awareness.

And there was deafening silence in the woozy haze.

Eyes adjusting in slow stages he looked around, almost afraid of someone jumping out of a time-space continuim shouting, 'Haha, gotcha' and poking his eyes out. Shuddering at the thought he glanced around, noticing first the bemused Satan, then the lack of Asodemy.

"It seems the ring works just fine, I'd say that shows just how well your oath stands, hm?" the red beast of Hell asked, lips twitching in an attempt to keep from laughing. A low moan of agony drew Tweek's gaze to Curson, keeled over on his knees, forehead pressed firmly to the cold marble, spiked tail wrapped around his legs.

"You…cocklicking…bastard," he said, voice strained. Satan only laughed, relishing in the physical pain he could cause the Bat King without having to worry that he'd end up dying for it. And of course, it was gleeful revenge to what he'd caused Satan years ago.

"Maybe, but don't fail to forget how many lollipops you've licked," Satan said, reaching a clawed hand out toward the cringing Tweek. "Come here."

Without much choice, the blonde reluctantly slid toward the Devil, jittering increasing until his body was vibrating, breathing hitched to each convulsive twitch. Satan was a father, so he had to have some compassion to children, right? Comforted by his delusion, Tweek reached a shaking hand out, wrapping around Satan's index finger, a warm, tingling sensation sweeping through his body, instantly calming him into a content, euphoria-like state. He slid down to sit on one of the broad stairs leading up to the throne, legs like jelly as he purred.

"You've fucked with his mind, made him you, so why isn't he getting the pain aspect you are inclined to?" Satan asked, directing his curiosity to the groaning form of Curson. The bat thingit raised his head enough that the muffled words could be understood, but otherwise didn't move.

"Shielding him…"

"What is it about this boy you like so much?"

A laugh, cut off by a hissed breath and moan. "…personal reasons…"

Not wanting to argue further then that he turned his gaze down to the sedated Tweak boy, curled at his feet and humming a nursery rhyme under his breath. "Tweek, do you want Curson in you?"

It took a moment before the coffee-addict realized he was being addressed, so unused to the fluttering, calm feeling. He looked up at the beast with a lopsided smile, trying to gather his wits about him and shook his head. "No, he's—he's bad. He's tried to kill me, and he scares me, and he's mean, and I don't want him in me. I want to be me, not him, me!"

Satan didn't know what was worse, the babbling blonde that seemed almost drunk the way he slurred his words, or the mumbled curses between groans of pain from Curson. But this was why he had allowed himself to be found, to be stripped from the boy—the Devil just couldn't figure out the reason why.

"You can get rid of me…mentally, you can have your Self…but the consequences will be grave...and you will never escape me physically..."

Tweek squealed, looking up at Satan with wide eyes. "Oh my God, he's going to kill me in my mind if I keep him! But if I don't he's still going to kill me! Oh God, oh God, oh Jesus Christ, Mother Mary, and Joseph."

"He won't kill you," Satan said in a soft voice, patting the boy awkwardly on the head. "He's going to stay here in pain. You agree he's in pain?" A nod, and a pleased smile. "Then there's nothing to worry about."

Tweek considered the possibility of having his mind to himself, no nagging voice speaking riddles, no caged level of his psyche and mental attacks. Nothing that would prevent him from being a normal child again with friends and schoolwork. Beaming up at Satan he just nodded.

It had been a year ago since he'd woken up in his bed, feeling relaxed, free from mental strain and leashes. A slow descent into his Self would show no signs of the Fallen Angel, no trace of his warm, almost welcoming presence. And it was wonderful, having a life to himself again, knowing that he was the kid he had been before the Bat King took over. Dreams were uninhibited and sweet, paranoia was reigned to the Underpants Gnomes, gremlins and rabid dust bunnies under his bed, mirrors were just reflecting glass.

But he was nervous still as autumn approached, along with the sixth grade. Because now instead of being the "different" child he had been with drugs that effect the way he perceived things, he was now being enrolled into public school once more.

---

It was a decision Eavan strongly enforced upon the doctors at the Denver Psychological Association Centre. Without Christophe as a playmate, her son needed the social interactions with other kids. Even with Token and Clyde visiting after school hours, it wasn't enough socialism for a growing preteen, unless they wanted him to turn into a hermit. Having noticed his improvement over hallucinations, although now memory lapse was a problem, Dr. Rizzo had begrudgingly accepted the proposal to allow Tweek back into the public schooling system.

Sleep hadn't been an option. He'd sat up all night, making sure his backpack was chuck-full of supplies, considering the outfit he'd wear, thinking over how he'd greet the children he hadn't spoken to in almost two years. Would they accept him back among the throng, or would they push him away, believing he was still a clinically insane patient? His mind whirled with such thoughts, each minute ticking passed making him more nervous. By the time the alarm blared that the boy should be awake, his nerves were shot, stomach turning in on itself as adrenaline scored through his body.

"Oh Jesus!" Tweek shouted as he burst from the bed, tangled in the sheets and fell unceremoniously to the floor. In the mess the clock had gotten caught as well, tipping from the nightstand and slamming to the floor, the piece of technology cutting off instantly. "I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go!"

The door opened, a crack of light flooding into the room as Eavan poked her bed-tousled head into the doorway, a tired, lopsided smile passing her lips as she saw her son sprawled on the floor, fighting the sheets. "Good morning, luv, hurry up and go get a shower before breakfast is ready."

"Y—yes Mom," he squeaked, watching her disappear from sight with a sigh. It was now or never, and time was slowly fading out to when he'd have to leave for the bus. The prospect was displeasing, as his stomach reminded him by being washed with another wave of butterflies.

Untangling from the sheets he got up, kicking them toward the bed and tramped out of the room into the bathroom, grabbing a towel on the way. It took a good ten minutes to get the taps set at a temperature that didn't scald, and longer for him to feel comfortable that the tub wouldn't be cold when he stepped in. As the warm water washed over his body he sighed, content as all tension about the first day of sixth grade flowed down the drain along with coconut scented shampoo fizz.

How was he going to react to seeing Craig? Or better yet, how was Craig going to react to seeing him? He hadn't forgotten that day during the summer, the hate-filled looks, bitter accusations that he wasn't himself. Going to school with him, how would Nommel be able to handle it? Would he admit to himself how wrong he had been, accept Tweek back into the circle of friends he'd grown up with? And would he be able to fight Craig in a battle of wits and sharp-tongues if he needed without Clyde and Token being put up against either of them?

He wasn't sure, the only thing he was sure about at that moment was the fact he smelled like an assortment of tropical fruits.

Getting out he hurriedly dried off, shivering at the cold as the steam dispersed. He towel-dried his hair, not caring about brushing it at the moment as he opened the door, peaking around the corners to make sure no news paper journalist were waiting with cameras and made a mad dash to his room, throwing on the light switch and kicked the door closed. Still he went around, looking under the bed, in the closet, in the vents before he walked to the dresser and dropped the towel.

Even though he'd had all night in thought of an outfit, Tweek still bumbled, wanting something impressive to draw people away from the curiosity of his being crazy. By the time he was satisfyingly dressed, the sun had crest the horizon, casting a muted grey, pastel look over the town. Even as it rose, time trickling away, he didn't move from his spot in front of the mirror making sure his primping hadn't been in vain.

Over the course of the year, his hair had grown out, adding enough weight so it didn't poke out in quite the disarray it had, but still remained to spike against efforts in the back. The sides curled inward to his face, framing the pale skin and clear, chocolate eyes with honey-blonde locks, giving him an innocent, almost angelic look, had it not have been for the muscle spasms around his left eye, or the dark circles that clearly gave away his lack of slumber.

The outfit wasn't fancy or over the top, it just held a certain air as if he'd tried for something out of the norm. A long sleeved yellow, white, and brown striped shirt was thrown on first to keep the autumn wind's bite to a minimal, cuffs hiding his hands. Over it was a plain olive-green shirt with a coffee cup patched onto the sleeves, the buttons undone at the collar. The pants were typical boy-shorts, frayed just below the knees, showing off stickly, pale legs and vomit-coloured Converse laced in rainbows.

Petting his hair down in an attempt to get the sides from fluffing, he sighed with a faint smile and trotted out of the room, flipping off the switch and shut the door with a loud thud. Tiptoeing to the stairs he checked each one with a bit of weight before taking any, in his old paranoid-Tweek accustomed self. He turned to the lighted kitchen, hunger quickly dying as that nervous, anxiety feeling coursed through his veins, tightening his stomach into a hard knot.

"Morning luv, hungry?" Eaven asked as she busied herself with buttering toast, humming an Irish folk song, under her breath, sipping coffee as she did. He shook his head vigourously, clacking his knuckles together like Butters usually did.

"N—nah. Can I just have coffee?" he asked a bit uncertain, looking up to his mother, Eavan waved the hand not holding the knife toward the kitchen table, decorated with a flower centre piece, and holding a smiley-face mug, steaming with the smell of white-chocolate caffeine. He waddled over to it, plopping down in a chair and reached for the warm cup, sighing contently as he took a sip.

"Nervous are you?" his mother asked as she sat down at the table as well, nibbling a piece of plain toast with a brow raised in inquisition. Tweek just nodded vigourously, looking down into the depths of his coffee mug, reflecting the doubt in his eyes. "Well don't be, I'm sure the kids will be quite pleased to see you around again."

He smiled, amused at how his mother caught on just as to why he was doubting the public schooling system. The only other person that had ever been able to predict his moods was Craig. He sighed, downing the rest of his drink with a grunt and stretched, ready to face six hours of inquisition.

He went to the door, kissed his mother goodbye, grabbed his bag and walked out into the autumn morning chill. At that moment he hated Christophe for leaving him to his own devices, without the cunning, down-to-earth beliefs of the irritable French boy. Although it was pure loneliness and longing that sparked this hate, knowing that Christophe had adapted to his environment and was doing well, when Tweek obviously was not.

He hummed the Mission Impossible theme under his breath, looking around the desolate streets, wishing a dog or cat would walk out from behind a house to give the neighborhood a more human feel. Or perhaps the irony was just that.

Stepping around the corner of the block, destination the stop sign on Paradise Boulevard and Caramel Lane going north-south where the bus stop was located, he stopped his humming. Already there were the only two kids that ever showed up, Butters and Conner, the latter leaning up against the sign, gabbering his redhead off. His hair was shorter then when Tweek had last seen it, spiked up in the front to show off his pale, freckled forehead. The shirt was bright blue, featuring OK Go, pants green cargo, frayed ends nearly covering all of the black DCs. A silver chain caught the morning sun, sparkling from the front of his belt to his back pocket, where Tweek assumed was a wallet.

The other was missing his trademark turquoise jacket, assumable with so many stains he couldn't go out of the house with it on. Instead he wore a deep green long-sleeved shirt with a unicorn and rainbow done on the front, brown pants, and bright aqua shoes. His hair wasn't as shockingly blonde, paler, and a tad longer, though it still stuck up in all the right places to give him the poofball appearance. His knuckles clacked together, loud in the thin mountain air before a giggle escaped him at something the redhead had said.

"Hey guys," he squeaked as they turned to him, eyes wide with surprise. Conner's grey eyes looked him up and down as a wide grin plastered to his face, showing off Crest bleached teeth.

"Holy fuck! Tweek, whoa dude, we thought you moved to Canada or something! God do you look molesterable, I mean the hair, and you're tall!" Conner took a breath, calming himself as he reverted to his sly, cocky self. "If you were a chick, I'd bone you right here and now."

"Oh Jesus!" Tweek said, throwing his hands up in front of his face as a slight tremour went through his body, but behind his hands he smiled. Sure, the sexual connotation wasn't something he enjoyed, but it was a compliment nonetheless.

"Hey, that's not nice," Butters said, shoving Conner playfully. "An' Dad said I can't watch that stuff without getting grounded."

Conner shoved the blonde back, into the stop sign and stepped up to him, close enough that their bodies touched. Tweek grinned, noticing that the Stotch boy had hardly grown, while Conner towered over him by nearly a foot, give or take.

"Always do what your Daddy says? So, if I fucked you against this stop sign, he'd ground you? Hm, choices choices."

Butters' eyes widened as he clacked his knuckles and laughed nervously, flicking his gaze between Conner and the other blonde. "Wh—what? No, I mean yes he would! But no you wouldn't…would you? I mean…Tweek, help me!"

The Tweak boy grinned at the flustered, embarrassed, horrified Butters that was turning a steady shade of pink the closer Conner's face inched to his own. Deciding he'd better help, he laced his index and middle fingers into the back loop of the redhead's pants and pulled, offsetting his balance and yanking him away from a near-hyperventilated Leopald. Conner scowled as he picked up his bag, spotting the mustard-yellow bus as it approached at speeds above average.

"You always ruin my fun, Tweeky," the redhead said, flashing him an indescribable look as the bus screeched to a halt, doors flying open to reveal a rotund Mexican. "Hey Mr. Alveraz, what's up homie?"

"Qui?"

Butters just nodded his acknowledgement to the busdriver as he got on after Conner, shuffling down the aisle to sit by Dougie. As Tweek climbed on, unsure and withdrawn into himself, he offered the driver a smile and looked around as tense silence followed his appearance, all eyes on him. He glanced around at the kids he'd known all his life, sitting where they always sat, most of the girls with fashionable new hairstyles and outfits, the boys just as messy in style, granted several normally included hats were gone.

The first voice to squeak something out was Bebe who turned around from her seat by Wendy and glared at Conner. "Hey you asshat, you said he moved to Canada!"

"Whoa, whoa, chicky-poo, calm your ass down, I was mistaken, 'kay?" the redhead said, holding his hands out in defense as Van Gelder hid at his shoulder, not wanting to face the wrath of the crazy blonde girl. As Bebe rolled her eyes and flipped him the bird, the bus erupted in questioning voices, wanting to know what happened, where he'd been, if Conner was indeed an asshat or not. Tweek just ignored them the best he could, moving along the aisle to where he knew he was expected to sit, if he was allowed. Eventually the questions faded out until people were just talking amongst themselves about Tweek's revival, accepting he wasn't about to tell them.

"Hey Tweek," Clyde said from his seat in the back by the window, nodding his head as his eyes lit up in happiness upon seeing the blonde. Clyde had changed over the years, thinning out as he lost some baby fat, but still remained a bit heavier then average. His hair was shaggy, curling a bit at the ends, and otherwise sticking out in the back. He sported a "Go Cows!" shirt under a black jacket, being the die-hard fan he was, and even his Converse were school-spirited.

"Good to see you, buddy," Token said from beside him, feet that had been propped up on the seat next to him falling with a loud thunk. His hair had been trimmed as the curls loosened slightly, just enough to give off a Holister air about him as he flashed bright white teeth in a smile. His polo was deep purple from American Eagle by the logo printed on the breast pocket, the undershirt white, pants faded and distressed in all the right places, although at a glance you knew they'd been bought that way. Tweek smiled at his friend, knowing well Cartman was blacker then Token ever would be.

"Ye—yeah, good to see you two as well," he said, voice shaking as he looked to the inevitable, where he usually sat with Craig. The Nommel boy was looking out the window, hat missing, showing off his long black hair tinged brown as it lightened with age that curled around his face, the back short but still long enough to have that distinctive curl. His black shirt featured a rabbit skull on the sleeves and the word "D.I.E" in pointed white lettering on the front. Around his wrist were multiple bracelets; a miniature handcuff set, leather bondage bands, random jelly bracelets. A studded belt kept his pants secured, the buckle a three-of-a-kind in aces, pants grey and worn. His green eyes flicked to Tweek, looking bored as he turned fully to face the blonde.

"No 'hello Craigers' for me?" he asked, voice just as bland but deeper from when Tweek had heard it last.

"I—you—I mean, you hate me," he whimpered, looking to Clyde and Token for support, that seemed about ready to smack Craig if necessary.

Craig raised a brow, his expression calculating and thoughtful as he analyzed that response, and finally just shrugged, crossing his arms and leaned back against the window. "Who else do you have?"

Tweek startled, stilling at the question, the same question he'd asked Christophe so long ago when he decided to make all wrongs right. Was Craig trying to do the same, smooth out their differences and just live like friends, like they use to? He would have said 'yes' if it hadn't been for something that crossed that sleepy, lazy expression, but then it was true; who did he have?

Resigned to defeat he plopped down next to Craig, the tension that had been on the bus before instantly snapping as the other students resumed their conversations. He scooted to the far edge of the leather seat, until he was half hanging off, but not sitting in the aisle, and looked down at his lap, anywhere but Craig. Since he'd seen Craig that summer day, he'd been carefully plotting out what he would say, do, when he saw his ex-bestfriend again. All his ideas, plans, he couldn't remember.

"Talk to me, Tweekster, we have ten minutes before we get to school, and I'll be damned if I sit here quietly," Craig's purring coy voice said, deeper then when he'd last heard it. The blonde bit his lip and turned to face his friend, looking oh-so comfortable and businesslike in his strategic slouch. "So, how's everything been? Where's your buttbuddy, the French piece of shit?"

That was a low shot. Tweek's brows furrowed, eyes squinting together at the jab, the urge to draw back a fist and slam it into that pretty smirking face almost irresistible. Instead he just leaned forward slightly, a faint smiling crossing his lips. "Around. Where's Stripe been? I heard he had some trouble with the exercise wheel."

His green eyes turned a shade lighter, burning with intensity as he narrowed them, a snarl carved on his lips, a finger pointed in his face. "Don't you fucking bring Stripe into this, you cocksucking sonuvabitch."

Tweek slapped Craig's finger out of his face, clicking his tongue in distaste, offsetting the Nommel boy's anger. He fell back onto the window, arms crossed, huffing. Trying to divert their anger, Token cleared his throat and laughed nervously.

"So, what's up with The Mole? Still talk to him at all?"

Giving Craig one last look, the blonde turned to his other two friends and nodded with a small smile. "Yeah, we talk. On the phone every now and then, but that can be expensive, and we send letters with gifts!" His smile widened as he remembered the last gift Christophe had sent, a desert coffee cup filled with caramel candies, with little orange cats painted around the outside, dancing and singing miou miou miou. "Usually we just email each other, but that can take time 'cause he has to go to his sisters to use the computer."

"I bet you guys are just fuckbuddies and cyber all the time," Craig's cocky voice echoed from behind, mocking. Tweek bit his tongue to keep from saying something nasty at that comment. He only knew what 'cybering' was due to a heated argument with Gregory, who he spoke to for the perks of what he heard from Christophe. Grunting he turned to face his ex-bestfriend, brows furrowed in disdain.

"What the fuck is your problem, Craig, why to you keep bringing up that topic? From what I hear, someone so eager to talk about being gay is himself. Have something to tell us?"

His eyes flashed uncertainty before the mental wall was rebuilt, and Craig snarled a stream of profanities. Before the blonde knew what happened, he was on the sticky floor, back of his head aching from hitting the metal under Token and Clyde's seat. He let out a moan as he rubbed his head, and looked up at Craig, hovering over him with a frown, seeming confused as to how Tweek got onto the floor, but by the sick resignation in his eyes, it was fairly obvious the Nommel child had shoved him. But what Tweek couldn't understand was the self-loathing, hateful look Craig wore mixed with a hollow loneliness.

"What the fuck, Craig?" Clyde asked, leaning over Token to shove the flipper back away from hovering, and offered a hand, but at that angle it would have been painful to try and take it. So Tweek just sat up on his own and scooted as far away from Craig as possible, leaning against Token's thigh slightly.

"I didn't—I mean I'm—" he stuttered as he fell into the window, ringing his hands nervously, green eyes darting for an escape before they narrowed, and Craig reverted back to himself. "Well, that's what he fucking gets for calling me gay, asshats."

"Yeah, and if everyone that you ever called gay shoved you on the ground, well, you'd never be standing," Token quipped as the bus pulled to a rough halt, slamming the unprepared kids into the seats in front of them. Tweek, on the other hand, landed a few feet away on his back in the aisle, looking up at the arched ceiling as the students moaned in unison. Sitting up he took Clyde's offered hand this time, being pulled to a stand as he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, his other hand running through his golden hair. He ignored the private conversations going on around him as he made his way off the bus with his friends in tow, and looked up to the amber, shoddy paint job of the elementary school.

"It would look cleaner if some of the paint wasn't peeling," he muttered to himself as a group of second graders passed by, giggling to themselves in a helpless manner, making him wonder if he was like that back then.

"Yeah, well they pressure washed it, and didn't take into account paint usually gets blasted off when pressure washed," Clyde's sarcastic tone said from behind him as a warning before an arm was thrown across his shoulders, leading him toward the double doors opening inside the building. Token trotted up next to them, hands in his pockets as he surveyed the younger classmen with a proud sort of smile, and then it was Craig's turn to slide up, sneering as he spotted his younger sister and her friends up ahead.

"Can't wait until next year, dudes, then no little idiot sister wanting to size me up for glitter pens and sparkly crayons," he smirked, raising his middle finger as Tracie glanced back, doggy-ear braids slapping her in the face at the movement. She blew a raspberry, rolling her eyes and skipped up the stairs, disappearing behind the doors. Token smirked and nailed him in the shoulder, hard enough to make Craig wince.

"Hush, it's cute, whether you like it or not."

Before the Nommel boy could say anything sassy, Conner scuttled into their path, a well-endowed Esther standing to his left, looking tired, antsy, and nervous all at once, and a shivering Van Gelder to his right. The redhead raised a hand in greeting before it fell to his hip.

"Hang out with us later, Tweeky?" Conner asked, giving Craig a challenging look. The raven-haired boy narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, placing his body in front of Tweek with his lips pursed.

"Fuck off, Conner, go rape your assholey friends and leave us out of it," he growled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Conner just rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath and grabbed his friends' wrist, dragging them off wherever.

Tweek hid his smile behind his hand, feeling warmth fill his stomach at the knowledge Craig still was possessive and protective. But was it out of sheer habit, or did he still feel that he had to protect the blonde? It didn't matter, he was still satisfied either way.

"Honestly Craig, sometimes I worry about your mental stability, let Tweek hang out with whoever he wants," Token said, suppressing a sigh as he shoved the boys into the building and out of the morning chill. "Really."

Craig waved his hand, obviously not caring as he smoothed his hair out of his face. "Whateva, I'm just trying to save Tweeky from social embarrassment."

Clyde snorted as they turned right, heading for the stairs that would lead them to the sixth grade hallway. "Like you're any more cool then Conner, he's got a fucking cheerleader all over him! That, by far, makes him cooler then you."

Scowling Craig flipped Donovan the finger indignantly and shook his head, not agreeing in the least with that statement. "Esther is the 'off' cheerleader, not quite as peppy as the rest. And anyway, I've got—"

"Red."

Craig came to an abrupt halt, inches from running into the girl. His face turned a deep shade of pink, freckles standing out against the blush as she smiled pink braces and bashfully looked down at the floor. Tweek scooted around Token to see her better and had to grin at how well she was doing. Her straight, long crimson hair brushed against her bare shoulders, highlights illuminating the firey colour. Against the soft cotton off-the-shoulder sweater that was long enough to brush against her knuckles, her hair was a tad exotic, coupled with the crystal aqua eyes she sported that sparkled without a hint of makeup. The jeans were acid-wash and flared, covering her cutesy brown-swirled shoes with sequins stitched to the toes. Although she was still short, she was nearly up to Craig's height, and most likely would have been if her shoes had true soles. Her cheeks were a bit pink, from being flustered or the windchill outside, he didn't know, but she radiated either way.

"Hi Red, I…uh…I…uhhh…Hi."

She put a hand to her mouth, hiding the smile and strained effort not to laugh at his attempts at conversation. She patted his hand awkwardly and sidestepped passed the Nommel. "It's good to see you too Craig—Oh, Tweek!" Red smiled as she looked him over approvingly. "It's a very good morning seeing you back. Well I've gotta run, see you guys in class."

They all stood in amused silence as Craig debated with himself his comment, and settled with a string of profanities. Token laughed, patting him on the back as the grumpy boy slapped him away, to stare dejectedly at the floor.

"Well, I can't say that was very smooth, but A for effort. Why'd you choke up, dude?"

Craig spun on his heel and narrowed his eyes, glaring at the black boy like it was his fault. Finally he threw his hands up in defeat and made a noise like a tea kettle. "I don't know! I mean, I haven't see her in a while but it shouldn't have been like that. It's different," he scoffed, looking down at his feet in a thoughtful look, and glanced up, a finger pointing at Tweek with vengeance. "It's your fault."

"Wh—what?" the blonde stuttered, looking around him but finding no one else, and his stomach sank. "Me?"

Before Craig could throw out his twisted logic, Clyde slung an arm around his shoulders and pointed to Tweek's face. "Does he really look like he cares that you just fumbled yourself up, Luffins? I mean, is this a caring face to you? Confused and bewildered, but it doesn't seem like he really gives a damn who you're boning."

"I'm not boning her you sonuvabitch!"

"Tell that to your Mom who happens to hear you scream in ec-sta-sy every night, and just thinks you stubbed your toe very hard for a very looooong time."

"I'll kill you!"

Tweek watched them bicker back and forth, head tilted in question to the side, wondering what the Hell was going on. Seeing his befuddlement, Token grabbed his wrist, dragging him upstairs where he wouldn't be snarled at for explaining. He let go when he realized Tweek could walk on his own, and casually strolled toward where their lockers were placed.

"So…what was that about?" Tweek asked, checking rows of lockers against the sheet of paper he'd received in the mail that told him where his bus stop was, his classroom number, gymclass expectations, all that happy junk.

"You know how Craig use to have a little crush on Red?" Taking the inclination of the blonde's head as a 'yes', he continued. "Well, last year she sort of starting liking him, I guess, girls confuse me. But it doesn't matter, it's Craig, and he likes attention of any kind, especially from girls. So he ended up doing little things to amuse her, and after a while he got up the courage to ask her out in a stuttering, blundering way like he talked to her today. It was cute in a way, because he was going to such extremes and making a fool out of himself in the middle of a math lesson."

Tweek bit back a laugh, able to imagine a thick-skulled Craig standing up in the middle of class, interrupting the teacher to stutter the question out and being publicly humiliated. And if it was Ms. Garrison teaching the class, he could imagine the woman's feminist actions and cheers for Red to say yes. A knot formed in his stomach, though, as he thought about Red saying yes and the two holding hands on the playground, his sheepish, coy Craig smiling that incessantly annoying protective smile.

Wait, his Craig?

Shaking the thought off he stopped by the locker that was his, and attempted the combination with shaking hands. Failing miserably, Token laughed and did it for him, swinging the locker open with a smile and patted the blonde on the back. Jamming things he didn't need into the locker, and the decorative things he brought, he looked over to his passive, waiting friend.

"What about you?"

Token raised a brow and uncrossed his arm with a smile, shrugging. "I'm livin' the bachelor's life. The girls all sort of took Wendy's side last year when I told her her voice was annoying…she's still pissed about that, can you believe it?"

Tweek hid a smile behind his binder and just gave a nod. Wendy took things personally and never forgave you if you screwed up, so it was no wonder Token bore the brunt of the girls' wrath. "And Clyde?"

"I'm still totally dating Bebe, a bit off and on but we still keep coming back to each other," the Donovan's voice said, arising from the stairwell as he trotted over with a broad grin, obviously happy about his achievements.

"Well, have you gotten up 'cause of her?" Craig asked as he followed behind the brunette, slamming Donovan's locker closed and leaning against it, arms crossed, a brow cocked. Clyde gave him a sleepy look, taking a step forward, noses inches apart.

"Oh, don't worry about me, Luffins, from what I hear you're the one that can't get your fireman standing."

Tweek squealed and had to jump out of the way as Clyde stumbled back into the opposite lockers, but his grin remained broad as he just smirked, ignoring the kids that rolled their eyes or stopped to watch. Craig pushed off of the lockers, recrossing his arms as he strode over to Clyde.

"Yeah, and who told you that?"

"Your mom."

"I'll kill you!"

Seeing that Token was rather disinterested by the two—rather, he was studying the flow of fellow sixth graders from the stairs—Tweek settled in by his side, backing down from wanting to help. Afterall, the two were just wrestling around and flipping the bird, what harm would come out of a normal brawl?

Forcing jittering hands into his front pockets, Tweek looked over to Token nonchalantly. "What were they talking about with firemen and such?"

"Erections."

"What!" Tweek squealed, voice pitching higher, causing the surrounding students to cringe against the high note. Token raised a brow against his shocked look and grabbed his elbow, dragging him down the hall toward the classroom.

"Yeah, those two have been at it since last year wanting to know who is the bigger man."

"Why?"

Token flashed bleached teeth in a smug smile. "Well, you know how they do that human growth and development section during school for a week and talk about where babies come from and make you label all the parts?" A nod. "Well, obviously they do that every year until you're out of high school, but it was more in depth than last year. You know, they split the girls and guys up again, and it just lasted longer. We had guest speakers, Big Gay Al came and talked about sexuality and how it's okay to want to bone your friends, Mr. Slave spoke some about whores and stuff, and then this doctor guy from Denver came. He was weird, explained how one of his patients liked his best friend and things like that. It was just a week of gay."

Tweek caught his breath at the mention of the doctor. He couldn't be referring to Dr. Rizzo, right? That would be crazy, why would the doctor come here? He was just overreacting.

"And what does that have to do with erections?" Tweek squeaked, glancing around to make sure no one was eaves dropping on their conversation. How embarrassing that would be.

Token hid his smile as he noticed what the blonde was doing and dropped an arm around his shoulders, dragging him off to the classroom while he spoke. "Well, it's just a proof thing, and a male ego deal. Like, I know Clyde's been there from a rather…awkward sleepover, but no one is quite sure with Craig. He says all the time he's totally been up and about, if you know what I mean, but we're not sure." He stuck his tongue out in concentration and shook his head. "Okay, that's not true, we know he's been up, we jut don't know who he was thinking of."

Tweek nibble his bottom lip as he filed into the class with Token, the only others being a cluster of girls huddled together and chattering under their breaths. They took seats in the back since no seating chart was posted, Tweek in the very corner to view the door and all the windows.

As Token plopped down, shoving his books inside the desk he let out a yawn. "Hell, I hope we don't have to do much today."

"Yeah," Tweek agreed, yawning as well, letting his head dropped to the desk, wishing he'd slept better that night. As soon as his eyes fluttered shut, Craig's voice had him bolted upright and looking toward the door where he was standing, a hand on his hip defiantly, Clyde imitating his pose behind him.

"What the fuck you guys, you ditched us!"

"Well if you two weren't fucking around and being dumb, we wouldn't have left you."

Craig stuck his tongue out and cocked a brow, hair falling over those shining, mocking emerald eyes. He glanced to Tweek for an instant before snorting and walking over, throwing his stuff down at a desk before plopping down gracefully, an arm thrown over the back of the chair, legs spread whorishly to best advantage. Clyde followed suit, taking a seat in front of Tweek, straddling the chair to turn and talk.

"It's tradition, not dumb," the brunette replied in a matter-of-fact tone. Before Token could respond, a fit of giggles erupted from the girls, tittering laughter splitting the chilled air.

Craig hissed in breath between clenched teeth as he turned to the girls, putting on a look of fake cheer and amusement. "What're you laughing at?"

Instead of stopping, they reached their hands up to smother the girlish cackles with knuckles. Bebe was the one to answer as she swung long curls behind her shoulders and batted baby blues, glossed lips turning into a devilish smile. "Kal here was saying how she'd totally ask you out if you weren't with Red."

"Was not!" the girl in question squeaked, face turning scarlet against her dark hair before she buried it in her arms.

"Yeah-huh!" the other girls squealed between giggles.

Craig just smirked, letting eyelids droop half-closed and looked up under bangs to achieve a coy look, knowing well how to work his body language to give off a certain air. "Hush now, ladies, there's plenty of Craigy-kins to go around."

"Unfortunately, Craigasuarus here hits for the wrong team," the snide voice of Eric Cartman said as he stepped into the room, arms crossed above his round stomach. Even after two years, it wasn't difficult to recognize the lumbering hulk of Cartman, with the "Hippies Suck" tye-dye shirt, brown cords, and general dictator posture. What was surprising was the Ringo Starr haircut, flared in every direction, contradicting the hate of the Hippie era. "Bet you're glad to have Tweeky back, now that you can pound ass again."

Eyes narrowed a tad, Craig snorted and smiled against the insult. "From what I've heard, when you're obsessive with others being an ass pounder, you are yourself. Yeah, I bet Kyle g-g-g-get's you drunk, love drunk off his Jew-butt." The girls bust into another round of giggles as Craig sang the line, making him cringe.

Kyle shoved passed Cartman, taking his usual seat and flashing a glare to the Nommel boy, clover-eyes narrowed in disapproval under amber ringlets. "Hey, don't you drag me into this you bitch."

Craig ignored him, as well as the students filtering in, giving the two ringleaders looks of amusement. "Yep, I can see it, you've got a boner for the redhead. Totally want inside him in the nastiest ways."

With a strong will, Cartman just smirked and shook his head. "Oh-ho! You know all about being deep inside, don't you? What's it like knowing one of your most prized possessions is in just another shithole, Craigykins?"

In the motion of pulling to a stand, Craig stopped as Red walked in with Heidi and Wendy trailing behind, and shot the two disdainful looks. "Stop being so crude, both of you."

"Or what, Red?" Cartman challenged, turning on the girl, several inches shorter and much smaller in frame. She tilted her head upward with a Cheshire Cat's grin planted on her face, and pegged him in the shoulder with her fist, driving her weight into it, the 63 pounds enough to off-balance Eric into a desk. He stumbled to regain himself and glared, eyes glassy, a hand going up to rub the tender spot. Red just raised a brow, waiting for retaliation, and realizing he wasn't going to try, walked to the seat saved for her by the girls and sat down.

"Holy shit," Clyde whispered under his breath, the class silent, waiting to see if Cartman would throw a tantrum or not. He just sulked to his desk and sat down, letting his head hit the top with a thunk, hand still clasping where he'd been hit. "Red has one helluva temper."

Tweek turned his attention to Craig rather then the girls highfiving Red, or Eric that seemed to be sniffling at the shattered ego, to see what he felt about his girlfriends victory; pride? Impressed? Pleased? Enthusiasm? Embarrassment? What he found written on the Nommel boy's face was discontent, eyes narrowed and lowered to the ground, lips pursed in a frown, brows knit in a line, and it confused but overjoyed the blonde.

The last few remaining students wandered in an sat down, giving the silence an uncomfortable look, before a woman in her early-thirties walked in, four-inch heels clicking on the dirty linoleum tile. A long floral green skirt flowed around naturally tan legs, alerting anyone that cared that she wasn't from Colorado. A white button-down shirt hugged her curves, top three buttons undone to show off an unmarred chest and bikini tanline, a silver heart locket falling between collarbones. Dark curls were pulled back from a pretty face with a butterfly clip, showing off bright jade eyes outlined in black and silver makeup. She smiled at the students, flashing brilliant white teeth and gold braces, a she setting on the edge of her desk, surveying the class she'd be teaching. She was gorgeous for a teacher, and the boys all knew it, except the diamond solitaire on her left hand kept them from whispering among themselves.

"Well, what a lively bunch of students! Though I can't scold you, understandably the first day of school is quite a drag, so today will be rather lenient." She shifted her weight and dragged the attendance sheet from the desk. "Anyway, I'm Ms. Coxnbahls—" several of the students clamped hands to their mouths, suppressing giggles and she smiled "—go ahead and laugh and get it over with, it'll be a rough year if you don't."

"Holy crap, we have a nice teacher for once," Token whispered, leaning over to Tweek.

"To take attendance, we'll go up and down the rows, you'll tell me your name and what you want to be called if it's different so I can make a seating arrangement. And don't worry, I'm all-for sitting with friends, but if for some reason it doesn't work out you'll be switched to somewhere unsavoury for a day, and then back. If you're still a pain in the butt, your seat will be changed permanently until you can prove you've learned your lesson.

"What else? Oh yes! After I've got your name on the sheet, I'd like to hear three things about you, so I can get an idea about each and every one of you. Hm, I'll go first. I have three kids, two twin girls in second grade and a boy in fourth. I love hockey, watching and playing, although that's probably a factor of being married to a Canadian. I've taken ballet for twenty-six years, and taught at Geoffrey before moving here. So, let's start over here shall we?" Noticing she was indicating his row, Tweek squeaked, left eye twitching shut under the scrutiny.

Sitting in the front, Butters shifted nervously in his seat, clacking his knuckles together compulsively. "Leopald Stotch, an' I g-go by Butters." Seeing that she'd finished writing down his name and was smiling for him to continue, his knuckles were abused more rhythmically. "Um, I have two pet hamsters, an' uh, I was a villain back in fourth grade that nearly drowned the world! An' uh—"

"His father is a closet homo," Fosse said between cackles, receiving a deadly look from Ms. Coxnbahls, who redirected her attention back to Butters.

"That all?"

"Yeah."

Noticing it was her turn, Esther sat up, folding her hands under her chin, dark eyes lifting from the desk with vile intent. "Esther Clemintine, no ridiculous nicknames—"

"Don't lie, Essy," Conner said from his seat, grinning broadly, faltering only when the cheerleading captain shot him a murderous look. She turned back to Ms. Coxnbahls, glittering lips turned to a frown.

"As I was saying, no ridiculous nicknames. I cheerlead, I skate, I draw."

Clyde ran a hand through his feathered hair, giving a sleepy smile as Esther feel silent. "Clyde Donovan. I have a dog, love playing video games, and have lived hear my whole life like basically everyone else."

Tweek cringed in on himself, eyes darting back and forth, looking for an escape against the smiling teacher. After a few seconds of not saying a thing, Craig turned around and gave him a look, urging him on. Chewing on his lip he glanced up and let out a squeak. "Tweek Tweak! Gah! I've been homeschooled for two years, an-and want a cat! And can't take the pressure!" Seeming satisfied, Craig turned back to the front, arms crossed over his stomach.

"Token Williams. And all you really need to know is that I'm the minority."

Craig sat up, giving his most defiantly sly look, although a smile tugged at his lips. "Craig Nommel. I've an annoying little sister, am allergic to rabbits, and well—" he leaned over his desk, a slender finger pointing to the still-sulking Cartman. "—that fatass over there can go play in traffic."

She seemed genuinely shocked that such a sweet boy would say such a dastardly thing, giving Eric enough time to sit up and glare daggers at him.

"Fuck you Craig! You goddamn asspirate sonuvabitch!"

He lifted a middle finger casually. "Right here, buddy, right here."

Face red from anger, Ms. Coxnbahls stamped her heels on the ground, fist curled at her sides. "Boys! You will stop this behaviour right now!" Hateful eyes fell on Craig as she smoldered, and one finger pointed to the doorway. "Counselors office, now!"

He let out a long-winded sigh as he picked himself up from his desk, sauntered down the row, and across the classroom, ignoring speculation by the students. At he door he turned back to Cartman and raised both of his weapons with a cocky smile. "Doubly for you, asshat," he said before walking out and jammed hands in his pockets, heading off to Mr. Mackey's with a tune in his whistle and a skip to his step. That was until he saw the sticklike man garbed in green, sitting on the bench outside his office, legs splayed before him, a disappointed look written on his face. Seeing Craig he shook his head and stood up, leading the boy into the office.

"You haven't been in class for more then ten minutes, m'kay, and you're already in my office. You can't keep this up, Craig."

The child in question settled down into the chair he was so familiar with, resolve melting to show a troubled look as he reached up, intending to fiddle with the earflaps of his hat, before realizing he wasn't wearing it and let his hand fall back to his lap. "We need to talk."

"Yes we do, m'kay! You can't be tellin' people to 'play in traffic' and flip 'em off! One day you'll mess with the wrong person, m'kay, and get yourself killed."

"I know, I just needed to get out of there."

"Well Craig—wait, what did you say?"

He glanced down at the floor, his battered shoes, the inspirational posters faded from wear over the years on the walls, peeling paint, anywhere but the man before him. "I can't take it. I want to punch him in the face with a knife, see him bleed to know he's real, and run fingers through his hair and never let go. I tried to prepare for it, but…it's not working, I can't stand it."

"Who, m'kay?"

"Tweek!" he yelled, erupting from the chair and slammed his hands down on the desk, eyes green molten fire before he pushed himself back and paced the room in angry strides. "It's been two years since I told him to fuck off, two years to dwell and let things build up. Two long years of sitting around, wondering if we'd ever speak to each other again, play around, be friends. Two years of finding myself outside his house, or on his porch about to ring the doorbell, dialing his number or writing an email. Two years of complete dependency on memory."

"Why did you tell him to leave you alone, m'kay?"

"I already told you, like two years ago! I couldn't stand his fucking crazy-ass, the lunacies, drugged-up unfeeling way he did things! He was also so passionate about things in his own sanity-deprived, coffee-addict ways, but he was so blank and gone it was crazy and I just couldn't stand being around something no better than a fucking broom!"

"Why did you really tell Tweek to leave you alone?"

Craig turned on his heels, stance aggressive, eyes a whirl of caution and twisted of emotion. "You really wanna know?" he asked, already knowing the answer, and raised a hand, thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "I was this fucking close to fucking the kid! And it scared me, so much, 'cause it's not normal to feel that way, and I knew if I acted accordingly that he'd be gone forever, and I didn't want that…I never wanted him to leave, not like that, but he did and blamed it on me and it was my fault but it hurt so much."

Anger gone, Craig shuffled to the chair and sat back in it, eyes downcast as he fidgeted with his bracelets. "And he became friends with The Mole, clung to him out of desperation, replaced me with him. And I hated The Mole for that, for being a better friend then I ever was and treating Tweek with respect instead of as a freak. But even when The Mole was gone, out of the way, I still couldn't do anything, couldn't bring myself to apologizing…because he deserves so much better then what I ever gave him."

Mr. Mackey recalled the day he'd asked if Craig loved Tweek, the nervous flittering as answer, red cheeks that became angry at such an accusation. And the day the raven-haired boy had come by "just to talk", bringing up the subject of his accidental kiss with Tweek—and the confession he hadn't wanted the students there. Just how long had Craig been holding himself back "for the best"?

"Craig, m'kay…do you love Tweek?"

His head shot up, eyes a tad bit wide as he chewed his bottom lip anxiously, hands curling around his jeans. "I'm not gay…but when Tweek climbed on the bus this morning, nervously ringing his hands and darting glances around, blonde hair shining and looking like he dressed to impress…I couldn't help but want to run my hands all over him, make him squeal by what I was doing, kiss the corners of his smile."

His hands went up to grab his hair and pull fistfuls, hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. "I hate what he does to me when he doesn't even know it! Every glance, word; his crazy hair, awkward twitching, voice that doesn't know which note it wants to hit; how he's afraid of bats, rape, drugs, alcohol, anything that might harm; his insecurities, and trust. God, I hate him so much! How a simple smile can make my body tingle with electricity, a glance elates my spirits and makes me want to do anything and everything for him."

He let his hands fall back to his sides, strands of black hair wrapped around his fingers as he looked up, wet tracks running down his red cheeks, accentuating his freckles. "But I can't, 'cause he doesn't want to be my friend, he doesn't want me. And it's so socially unacceptable, what would people think? And Red…I couldn't do that to her, even if she doesn't make me want to kiss her and protect her, 'cause she can do that herself, but Tweek needs someone to hurt others for him, keep him safe and secure. But I can't."

Mr. Mackey sat in the awkward silence, amazed that Craig could show so much, and sympathized with him. It had to be hard growing up in such a split society with rules and regulations for everything, explaining in neat writing what a person could do, believe, and the consequences of rebelling.

He reached across the desk and patted Craig's hair back into place with a sad smile. "Why don't you go take a breather, get a drink, go to the bathroom, take a short walk? Just calm down a bit and we'll continue when you get back, m'kay?"

Craig just nodded solemnly as he got up, wrist rubbing his face and eyes as his resolve was rebuilt in seconds, back to cocky, sly, despite his face red from crying. Flipping Mr. Mackey the finger, he walked out, "Back soon," falling off his tongue before the door closed.

---

Nearly half a day had gone by without Craig returning to class, worrying his friends about his whereabouts until Clyde had lightly mentioned "once you get that boy unwinding, it takes hours to get him to shut up". It didn't bother Tweek that he wasn't in class, but he was concerned as to what Craig could possibly take three hours in the counselor's office talking about.

They were released for lunch, the Nommel boy still not showing up, but they were too preoccupied with the thought of an organized lunch schedule to really notice. They stopped by each locker to grab money, and went off with the other intermidiate grade children toward the cafeteria, run by Mr. Derp in Chef's absence, whom had been reasonably slapped into submission of keeping food quality top notch, and not being completely obnoxious.

Tweek sighed as he followed his friends into the line, missing the black man's presence and songs. Hands in his pockets he looked to the ground; it was amazing being in public school again, but some things disappointed him.

"Follow me, Twitchy," a whispered purr echoed in his ear, cinnamon breath tickling his hair. Tweek jumped, cheeping in surprise, whipping around with a hand up for protection, the other slapping outward at the voice. His wrist stopped in mid-swing, caught by a warm hand with large amounts of strength behind it. The blonde blinked, looking into the face of Damien, black eyes swirling with a hint of red, lips curled away from dainty fangs in a smirk of amusement. Before he could say a thing, Damien was dragging him out of the line and the cafeteria doors were swinging closed behind them.

"Kid—!"

"I'm not kidnapping you," Damien snarled under his breath, letting go of his wrist as he leaned against the wall and inspected black-tinted nails. "We have some things to discuss that others don't need to hear about."

Tweek rubbed his wrist, nervousness creating a sinking feeling in his stomach that danced along his skin, irritating. He stepped back to the line of Awareness in his mind, seeing double; the Prince of Darkness standing beside him, and the hollow, dark pit spewing technicoloured ribbons from his Self far below.

"What?" he asked, voice sounding flat and alien to his ears as he dove down into the subconscious, spiraling to the level he knew so well that had housed the Bat King, still torn asunder, but lacking that dark, seductive presence. He poked around, searching—and upon finding nothing out of the ordinary, floated back upwards, double-vision fading out.

"You're correct to have assumed it's about your mindfuck buddy. In a little over then a year, he's regained all control over his twenty-two legions, formed a stronghold and resistance group with the Wyverns, Harpies, and Gulons just to name a few, was cause of several miniature civil wars, and has broken all ties or bonds to Hell he had."

Tweek swallowed hard, suddenly cold from icy spreading through his veins. "In lamest terms?"

Damien pushed away from the wall, flicking dark hair out of his eyes. "Your mindfuck buddy is back, and he's pissed off."

---

Craig left Mr. Mackey's office feeling relieved and stress-free as recess began. Having talked for over three hours, he was glad someone at least knew his position on Tweek, and could help him. The advice was subtle, but proved to be the only thing that would solve his case; be honest, and act on impulse. And despite the thought scaring him, he'd rather be hated then suppressing himself.

He walked down the halls, all anxiety fading to a flitting feeling like butterflies, and icy pinpricks under his skin. Running a hand through his hair he suddenly felt exposed, and missed his jacket, hat, things he usually could never live without. Glancing around it seemed like people were waiting in the shadows and corners for him to expose his secret, become the scum of society. He chewed his bottom lip, tasting the copper residue of blood on his tongue as he turned down the hall that would lead him to the courtyard and stopped, slamming his hands against the wall, leaning his forehead against the cold masonry.

"I can't do this," he whispered to himself, swallowing hard and licked his bleeding lip. "I really, honestly can't."

Don't bitch out, Craig, if you want it badly enough you'll get your ass out there and take your blondie.

"He'll never accept it, he'll think it's a joke."

Who knows until you try? Sure, you're a fucking dickhole jerk that's bitched him over on several occasions, but you're also a very persuasive guy.

"I don't want to persuade him, I want him to need me."

Look at it this way, what do you have to lose? You're not buddy-buddy with him, and he's a bitch-boy so he won't tell. And what do you have to gain? The kid that's been haunting you for-freaking-ever and makes you extra happy in the morning. Just do it!

With a deep breath he pushed off the wall, placing shaking hands in his pockets and forced himself to walk to those double-doors; one, two, three, four…A step away he hit the left one with his foot and walked through as it swung upon among the boisterous laughing of children having fun. The wind had picked up since that morning, sending his hair in disarray over his eyes as he was jumping over the side of the concrete stairs, nearly causing him to flatten a third grader playing PSP by his lonesome. Muttering an apology he glanced around, spotting his friends by a clump of trees, tossing a ball back and forth between them.

A smile blooming on his face, he leaned up against the building, raising a brow as he watched them struggle to catch it in the tormenting wind. He had to bite back a laugh as the ball rocketed to Tweek who had his hands out to catch it, but as it neared threw himself to the ground with a shout of dismay and horror. His grin broadened as Clyde walked over with a chuckle and helped the blonde up to try the tactic again, with similar results. Even from where he was standing, he could hear the amused argument.

"Tweek, just catch the damn ball!"

"I'll break my fingers!"

"No you won't, Jesus…"

"Yes I will! They'll bend back and go snap and gah!"

"Tweeky," Craig called out, voice carrying on the wind. As coffee-coloured eyes turned on him in inquisition he almost regretted it, breath caught in his throat at the flushed cheeks from playing, and parted lips. "Come here."

Token gave him a warning look behind the blonde's back as Tweek shrugged and trotted over to him, expression carefully guarded, pricking at Craig's nerves but he let it slide as he pushed off the wall, leading Tweek up the four stairs and into the building.

"Where're we going?" Tweek asked, looking around fretfully like an animal knowing it was stepping into a trap.

"Somewhere to talk."

"Can we go to the bathroom first then? I've really gotta pee."

Craig gave a slight nod as he circled back around to where the bathrooms were located near the cafeteria and stepped in first, holding the door for the small blonde that rushed passed him, giving him a look he couldn't describe. He walked over to the sinks and turned from the mirrors to keep himself from being tempted enough to glance over at Tweek. When the blonde was done and walked over, pumping pink soap into his hands and slathering them with a coat of bubbles, Craig spoke.

"Let's talk about us."

"Us?" Tweek questioned, glancing over at him in the mirror as he hit the faucet with his wrist and washed the foul-smelling soap from his hands.

"Yeah, us. Friends or not?"

Tweek shrugged, watching the foam spiral down into the drainage pipes. "You're right, Craigers, who else do I have after you and the guys? No one. So I might as well forget the past and forget our differences. Doesn't mean we'll be best friends again, though."

"I think what you're missing, Tweeky," he said slowly, pushing away from the sinks with his butt and turning to face Tweek in the mirror. Seeing the hostel look in those green eyes Tweek squealed and whipped around, only to be shoved back against the wet ceramic with Craig's hips pinning him to it, his large hands on either side of his head against the mirror. "Is that I don't want to be your fucking friend."

"Wh—what do you want to be then? My enemy? Jesus Christ, no, I don't want to get killed!"

Craig's lips twisted into a short-lasting smile as he leaned closer, letting those devious eyes drift half-closed. "I want to be closer then that."

"Then what?"

The answer was as a firm, knowledgeable kiss, performed with quavering lips struggling to keep restraint. He stopped breathing as Craig ran the gambit, sharp teeth grazing his lower lip, nibbling the swollen flesh, tongue playing over the bite marks. He took a deep, shuddering breath as Craig drew back, expression deadly serious.

"Push me away now, or forever hold your peace."

The decision had been made long before as Tweek reached up, running wet, soapy hands through his hair, and leaned forward, grinding his hips against Craig's. Fingers entangled in the black mess, Tweek pulled himself upward, repaying Craig quite eagerly with a kiss of his own that would lead to long, drawn out moans of pleasure.

---

As the sun sunk below the west horizon, colouring the sky a pastel masterpiece of pink and blue, stars dusting the clear sky, Tweek let out a soft sigh into the night's silence. Homework was completely forgotten as his mind whirled at the bathroom experience, a hand resting on the tender spot of a lovebite on his neck. His eyes drifted closed, blocking off the sight of the ceiling fan and dusty popcorned ceiling to recall the flushed cheeks, lips glistening with his slobber, pale expanse of a freckled chest. Even as a chill ran through the room, aircurrents disrupted by a new arrival, he didn't lift his head from his pillow.

"I want you back inside of me," he finally said, softly so his parents wouldn't hear him from downstairs. "I don't want to forget this year."

"Sand swirls naught in the glass donned Life. Lost choice, lost wonder, lost hope."

Tweek snorted, exhaling a breath and raised the hand that had been across his stomach in a casual greeting. "No word play and riddles, it's not something I can stand at the moment."

The bed shifted, drawing downward on the right side as extra weight was added. Tweek cracked an eye, smile never faltering as he gazed up into the stony face he hadn't seen in a year, black eyes without a hint of whites, natural snarl drawn from carnivorous teeth looking down at him from mere feet above.

"And why would that be, my little rose? You smell of sweat, what have you done while I have been gone?" he purred, normally distressing voice sweet in its vile croon.

Sitting up on elbows, Tweek shook his head, blonde locks falling into caramel eyes. "It doesn't matter, but I've heard what you've been doing, and I want you back in my subconscious."

Keeping a hand splayed on the bed Curson leaned over Tweek, the other running across his face, a clawed joint pressing against his lips. "Oh really? There is only one way to get into the content, completely vacant state of mind needed after the initial discharge." He leaned forward, closing the distance to an inch at most, hand moving to trail down his chest, claws scraping against the shirt roughly. "Unfortunately for you, I am not quite in the mood for that right now." He leaned back, eyeing the lovebite with distaste. "Until then, I'll watch…and I'll wait."

Tweek watched as he faded from view, and the chill dispersed as well. With a sigh he glanced out the window, a smile tugging at his lips again.

It didn't matter if Curson wasn't going to cooperate.

He wouldn't forget the first day of sixth grade.

Ever.

---

The beginning seems rather...out of place and disorderly, and it is, it's there for symbolism and well, a mindplay. Let's see if it works the way I wanted it.

The slashy begins here. Freakin' finally, Jesus xD Rating will get bumped later in, and an uncut version will probablybe available if I can't work around...stuff.

What else...oh! 1.0 and 2.0 were written to be confusing, you won't get it until the very end. It just gives insight into what happens after the events in Expo occur, how the characters react when reminded. Yep