A/N: This is something I've been working on in between Worlds Apart. Because, you know. Clyde needs love too.
This one's dedicated to my superbestfriend, tweekers, because she's epic and amazing.
Enjoy.

"Hey," he heard a voice say impatiently. A hand invaded his personal space, waving in front of his eyes, startling Clyde back into reality. He'd been lost in thoughts that he would have much rather stayed locked in a box in the darkest corner of his mental attic, not popping up every so often in the forefront of his mind, demanding to be noticed, and remembered. He sighed, blowing some of his dark brown hair that he'd let grow out until it could completely cover his eyes, out of his face in the process, and blinked at the owner of the hand. "Huh?" he said, trying—and failing—to keep the sudden dejection out of his tone. His gaze dropped to the Scrabble game lying in the middle of his kitchen table and then to the row of letters he had in front of him, letting out another soft, sad sigh as five of the seven tiles rearranged themselves in his mind. C – R – A – I – G...

He heard Token mutter a soft, "Goddammit," and Clyde realized that his vision had blurred, tears trickling down his cheeks. He covered his eyes with his hands and sniffled loudly, feeling even worse. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that seventeen year old guys weren't supposed to cry, especially not in front of other guys, but he'd lost his ability to care about that unwritten rule months ago. He just felt awful for falling apart again. Every other time he had needed to talk for the last two months, Token had been there, but Clyde could tell that he was getting tired of having the same conversation over and over. They were best friends, had been for as long as Clyde could remember, but Token did not have an infinite amount of patience, even for him. But that wasn't the only reason he felt so much worse for crying now, of all times; he slid his hands up, running them through his hair, and let his eyes drift to the currently empty chair on his left, and then the half-full mug of coffee on the table in front of it.

"Sorry," Clyde mumbled, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his red sweater. He coughed, wincing at the sudden sharp pain in his throat, and reached for the glass of water on the table beside him. "My turn?" Swallowing some of the cool liquid, he stared at his seven Scrabble tiles, and tried to focus on the game. It was the last Saturday before senior year would start, and Clyde was not looking forward to having to go to school on Monday. He hadn't left his house all summer; the only socializing he did occurred when Token came over, but not even spending time with his best friend could cheer him up. For the past couple of weeks a more-on-edge-than-usual Tweek had been showing up with Token, and Clyde hadn't known why until five minutes ago.

It was public knowledge to everybody at their high school that the fourth member of their, for lack of a better word, 'gang', was kind of a slut. Every Wednesday night, when the four of them got together at Token's for their long-running tradition of watching bad movies and playing video games, Craig would lean back in the Black's recliner—he always claimed the recliner—and smirk his cocky Craig-smirk, a sure sign that he had a story to tell. Six months ago, there were only eight people in their grade that Craig hadn't been with; two and a half months ago, that list had been narrowed down to five: Cartman, Thomas, Token, Tweek, and Clyde.

Craig didn't need to explain why Cartman was on that list—nobody in their right mind would even think about being with Cartman in that way; 'in their right mind' being the key phrase. Clyde had heard rumours about something happening between Cartman and Kyle at one of Bebe's frequent out-of-control parties last Christmas, but nothing had even been proven; if anything had happened, neither one of them would admit it, and anyone who pressed the issue would end up either the target of a redhead's fiery temper, or suffer the consequences of a manipulative bastard's latest scheme.

Those who were familiar with both would often prefer the latter.

Token was on the list because he was currently trapped in a love pentagon: he was, at the moment, dating Wendy, who was being begged for another chance by Stan, who had broken up with Kyle after a game of drunken Spin The Bottle at yet another one of Bebe's parties a few weekends ago had revealed a little too much about Kyle's past—and, apparently, present—with Christophe. That kind of drama was exactly why Clyde had never and, he had vowed, would never go to a party at Bebe's house. And it was that kind of drama—not Token's obvious straightness; Craig had said more than once that everyone's sexual preference could be summed up in one simple word: often—that kept Token from being subjected to the advances of their black-haired friend.

It wasn't that Craig had never instigated any kind of drama at all—actually, he had been the reason Stan and Wendy had broken up the last time, and when a depressed Wendy had gotten hammered at the next party, and Craig had conveniently been right there, well, that had given him two stories to tell, the Wednesday after, and two more people crossed off his mental list. But interfering with simple, two-person relationships was as dramatic as Craig would get; if there were any more people involved, things would get too intense, he would end up tangled in the tension, and it would be harder to just get what he wanted and get out.

Thomas was still on the list only because, Craig had offhandedly informed his three friends during a Keanu Reeves movie marathon they'd had in May, he had yet to come up with the right form of persuasion for the newest arrival to their high school. Token had just rolled his eyes and shot some generic insult in Craig's direction, receiving a nonverbal yet effective response. Tweek had said nothing, his eyes glued to the TV screen, clutching a steaming mug of coffee with twitching hands. Clyde, though, had finally gotten the nerve to ask the question that had been on his mind since Craig's apparent intentions—to fuck his way through the entire graduating class, minus Cartman, by the time they finished senior year—had been made clear at the beginning of tenth grade. "So, so what about the other, uh…" And lost that nerve halfway through the question. "What about Tweek?" he finished, feeling his cheeks grow slightly warmer. He leaned back on the couch, stretching one arm behind his head, doing his best to appear ultra-casual.

That got Tweek's attention; the blond, who was sitting on the floor in front of Clyde and Token, nearly spilled his coffee in his hurry to turn and stare with wide eyes, first at Clyde and then Craig, a tiny, "Nghh!" escaping his lips. Token, the shadow of a knowing smirk on his face, simply raised one eyebrow at his best friend, before also shifting his gaze to Craig, and continued to eat the popcorn he had in the bowl sitting on his lap. Keanu Reeves had been forgotten; all their attention was on the black-haired boy lounging in the recliner, not that Craig was the sort of person who was uncomfortable with that. He sat up a little straighter in the recliner and, after glancing down at Tweek with a rare, genuine smile, rolled his eyes in Clyde's direction, the action accompanied by a trademark middle finger.

"Fuck, man, he's my best friend, that's like asking you why you and Token haven't gotten it on yet," he said, smirking as Token snorted in disgust and threw a handful of popcorn at him. Tweek squeaked—a short shrill sound, not unlike the squeak of a startled mouse—and noisily gulped down some coffee, blinking furiously as his eyes moved between the three boys sitting on the various pieces of the Black's furniture.

Clyde wrinkled his nose, as much in an attempt to hide the fact that his face was turning bright red as in actual distaste. "Sick, he's – he – we're straight," he said, his argument weakened by the fact that he stumbled over his words.

"That's what he said," Craig said flippantly, reaching for the half-empty bottle of Coke on the table beside him. "And that's what I'm for," he finished, raising the bottle to his lips and taking a long drink.

"Oh, right, like you're God's gift to the straight man," Token said around a mouthful of popcorn.

Craig shrugged, and set his bottle of Coke back down, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his black T-shirt. "I didn't hear any of the other guys complaining."

"Would you really listen if they had?" Clyde mumbled, the words coming out before he had time to think.

Craig raised his arm, as if to flip Clyde off, but paused; cocking his head, he said thoughtfully, "Not if they were drunk."

"Didn't think so." Again, Clyde spoke before his brain could tell him that saying those words would be really, really bad idea.

Leaning forward slightly, Craig gave Clyde a look that reminded the latter of a predator stalking its prey, and said, just a hint of something in his voice, "You think about me fucking guys often?"

Clyde sunk lower into the couch; he was beginning to wish that he hadn't started the whole conversation in the first place. Now he couldn't get certain images of Craig out of his head—although, it certainly wasn't the first time he'd had those kinds of thoughts about his friend. But usually he only let those thoughts come while he was alone, or, at least, not when the object of those thoughts was sitting less than five feet away from him. There were only three people in the world Clyde felt he was close enough with to trust with his secrets; there were only two people in the world that had any idea that Clyde might just be a little less straight than he let on. One of them was Clyde himself, of course, and the other, well, the other was definitely not Craig. Tweek couldn't keep a secret to save his life—literally; Clyde was pretty sure that trying to keep a secret would be so much pressure for the blond it would make his head explode, or something. That left Token, and it was to him that Clyde shot a desperate look of, 'Help me!'

"Craig, shut up," Token said mildly, his tone that of someone who was used to rescuing Clyde from these types of conversations. At least once every Wednesday night, Craig would shoot some double entendre, or in tonight's case, a blatant single entendre, at Clyde, and the brunet, instead of just brushing it off the way Token kept telling him to do, blushed and stuttered and made the very thing he was desperate to keep hidden from Craig dangerously close to tumbling out into the open.

Craig lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "S'not my fault Clyde's obsessed with my sex life."

"I'm not!" Clyde protested, crossing his arms and glaring sulkily at the popcorn bowl.

"Whatever." Token sighed. "Can we please just watch the movie now?"

Craig stretched his arms out in front of him; with a yawn, he stood up and moved towards the door that led to the Black's kitchen, pausing when he was just behind Tweek, who had returned his attention to the television. "I don't know how you can watch this shit, man, Keanu Reeves is so fucking lame." He flipped off the TV with one hand and ruffled Tweek's messy blond hair with the other. Tweek let out a surprised yelp and twisted around to look up at Craig with wide eyes. Craig laughed, shaking his head. "Don't have a heart attack, Tweeker. I'm not going to hurt you."

Token tossed another handful of popcorn at Craig, snickering when a few pieces found their way down the back of his friend's shirt. "Move, douchebag, I can't see the TV."

"You should be thanking me," Craig said, lifting up his T-shirt just a bit so he could brush the popcorn onto the carpet. Clyde had to use all of his willpower not to stare. "Do we really have to watch this?"

"Quit bitching, it's almost over. You get to pick the next one anyway." Rolling his eyes, Token popped open his can of Fresca and muttered something under his breath that Clyde couldn't quite catch.

"Anything would be better than watching Keanu Reeves try to be Batman," said Craig, the derision clear in his voice. "You enjoying this, Tweeker?"

"Ngh!" Tweek twitched. "I – I don't r – ghh! I don't really underst – stand it."

"Come on." Craig jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. "I'm gonna go find something to eat, I'm starving, and I bet you need more coffee."

"Y – yeah," Tweek squeaked, hopping up from the floor and following Craig across the room.

"If you make a mess, you have to clean it up this time!" Token called after them.

"And he's Neo, not Batman!" Clyde added, in defence of one of his favourite movie characters of all time. Neither of them got a response. Clyde reached into the popcorn bowl and came up with a handful of half popcorn, half un-popped kernels. He sighed in disappointment, and with a quick unhappy glance at Token, started picking out the kernels and dropping them back into the bowl.

"Well, what do you expect?" Token asked, setting his Fresca back on the table beside the couch. "I was hungry."

"You could have saved me some." Clyde tossed the last kernel of corn into the bowl and popped the popcorn in his hand into his mouth. "You know I love popcorn," he said as he chewed.

"Not as much as you love Craig, obviously." Token snickered as his best friend sat straight up on the couch, horror written across his face. "Oh, don't worry, he can't hear us."

Pale, Clyde swallowed his mouthful of popcorn and said in an almost-whisper, "You don't know that."

"Yeah, I do," said Token, putting the nearly-empty popcorn bowl on the table beside his can of Fresca. "Are you ever going to tell him or are you going to just keep torturing yourself?"

"I can't tell him!" Clyde hissed, as if the very thought was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard in his life.

"Why?" Token asked, clearly knowing the answer; this was another routine they'd gone through many times.

"Because he's fucking...Craig," was Clyde's response.

"But you want to be fucking Craig."

"Shut up!" Clyde started chewing the hell out of one of his thumbnails, nervously keeping his eyes on the doorway. "You know what I mean. He's Craig, he could have anybody. He's already proven that. What kind of chance would I have?"

"Well, that's optimistic." Token rolled his eyes. "But, yeah, you're almost right. He's more of a slut than Bebe, these days."

"Exactly." Clyde sighed miserably. "He'd never want me."

Token watched as his best friend gnawed on his thumbnail like he hadn't eaten for weeks, wrinkling his nose at the disgusting habit. "I don't even understand why you want him so much, anyway."

Clyde stopped chewing and stared at Token in disbelief. "He's Craig," he said, his words distorted slightly due to the fact that he still had a thumb stuck between his lips.

"Yeah, we've established that. But dude, he's pretty much just a douchebag," Token pointed out for the millionth time. "You really want to be with the kind of person who personifies the 'fuck 'em and forget 'em' attitude?"

One look at Clyde's face showed that yes, Clyde did really want to be with that kind of person; at least, if that person was Craig.

"I mean," Token continued, grabbing his Fresca and taking another sip. "How could you ever trust him? Wouldn't you always be wondering when he was going to get tired of being with one person and leave you with nothing but a broken heart and a middle finger?"

Clyde looked at him suspiciously, removing his thumb from his mouth and wiping his hand on his jeans. "You sound like a girl."

Token shrugged, looking away from Clyde, at the TV screen. "I may have talked to Wendy."

"You told Wendy?" Clyde fought to keep his voice down. "You weren't supposed to tell anybody, that's supposed to be a secret!"

"Dude, calm down. Wendy's not going to tell anybody. No," Token added, cutting off Clyde's next words. "She won't tell Bebe just because they're best friends. She's got more respect for people than that."

"She told everybody about Stan's secret obsession with Kyle's hair," Clyde muttered, lifting his legs up and wrapping his arms around them.

"Yeah, well, she was drunk. And it's not like that was a huge surprise," Token pointed out. "Look, if she tells anybody, you can punch me, or something. But she won't, just trust me."

"She'd better not." Clyde picked up the DVD remote as the movie's ending credits started scrolling across the screen.

"She won't. But seriously, she does have a point," Token said as Clyde shut off the movie. "Just how much would you be able to trust him?"

"It's not like I'm ever going to get the chance to find out, so I don't even know why it matters," Clyde mumbled, pushing himself off the couch to go get the movie out of the DVD player. "You heard him; he leaves Tweek alone because they're best friends. I'm his friend too."

"So am I, but the only reason he won't even try with me is because of Wendy." Token finished off his Fresca and crushed the can in his hand. "That and he probably knows I'd punch him in the face if he got anywhere near me," he said thoughtfully.

"So you think I might have a shot?" Clyde kneeled in front of the television and looked over his shoulder, a tentative hopeful expression on his face.

"To be a one-time thing, maybe. You know he's not into something more than that." For a second, Token wondered if maybe he was being too harsh, but decided against it. Clyde was his best friend, and he didn't feel like seeing him be crushed by their friend the douchebag.

"Maybe..." Clyde said slowly, clicking the Keanu Reeves movie back into place in its case. "Maybe I could change him?"

Token let out a small groan. And Clyde said he sounded like a girl? With a sigh of defeat, he held up his hands and said, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

He had warned him, Clyde thought now, picking up three of his Scrabble tiles and placing them carefully on the board, connecting them to the letter D to form the word 'drag'. He reached into the box where they were keeping the extra tiles and took three more. At least the letters in front of him didn't spell 'Craig' anymore; not that that kept the black-haired boy out of his thoughts. Clyde sniffled again, knowing he had to pull himself together before Tweek got back. If he thought he was miserable, he couldn't even imagine what Tweek was feeling right now.

Clyde's day had started the same way it always had: he woke up, looked at his clock, fell asleep for a few more hours, got up and sat in front of his TV until his doorbell rang, and then went to go let Token in. The first time he'd opened the door to see not only his best friend on his doorstep, but Tweek as well, he'd still been too stuck in feeling sorry for himself to wonder why. Or to register the fact that Tweek looked like he hadn't eaten or slept for days, and that, in all honesty, the blond looked worse than he did. Clyde had a tendency to become a little bit self-absorbed when he was upset, and so he'd assumed that Token had simply recruited Tweek to try to help make Clyde feel better.

That clearly wasn't the case, though. Today, when Tweek had spilled coffee on himself and freaked out, scuttling off to Clyde's laundry room when the brunet told him there was some brand of stain-remover there, Token had taken the opportunity to tell Clyde exactly what was going on with their friend. Apparently, like Clyde, Tweek had been attracted to Craig for quite some time, although, according to Token, Tweek's feelings for him were infinitely stronger than Clyde's were. Tweek, said Token, had been in love with Craig since ninth grade. And, now that Craig had moved on from Clyde and finally found a way to get Thomas to be with him, it seemed as though Tweek finally couldn't take any more, and he'd snapped, or gone into some kind of hyperdrive; he was twitching more than usual and almost tripling his caffeine intake. It was because he was so worried about Tweek's health, both mental and physical, that Token had started bringing Tweek with him to Clyde's house.

Clyde had responded to all of this with an eloquent, "...Huh?"

"It all makes sense, when you about it," Token had said quietly, his eyes on the kitchen doorway, ready to stop talking if Tweek suddenly reappeared. "It's just weird how none of us ever noticed before. But, yeah, dude, you have to chill out a little. Ever since Craig and Thomas started having their thing a couple weeks ago, Tweek's been messed up. I know Craig treated you like shit, and I know you're still not, you know, okay. But I think Tweek needs us more right now."

If Clyde was completely honest with himself, he knew that Token was right. After all, it wasn't like Clyde hadn't known that the chances of Craig ever seeing him as more than a friend and someone to cross off his 'people I've fucked' list were very slim, more than likely nonexistent. It wasn't like Clyde had never been at Token's house on a Wednesday night, listening to Craig detail his exploits in a tone that made it clear that none of those people were worth anything more to him than one night and a good time. It wasn't like Clyde hadn't been warned. But he'd managed to somehow convince himself that he could be the one to change Craig; that he could be the one person who Craig would finally see in a different light. And for two and a half weeks, it had seemed like maybe that was actually a possibility.

Until that one night, and the one phone call that had resulted in Clyde hiding himself away in his house for the entire summer, feeling stupid and hating himself for ever believing that he had a chance of having something real. Craig was never going to change, not for him, not for anybody. For a few seconds he thought about trying to warn Thomas about the kind of person Craig was, the way Token had warned him. But Clyde had ignored Token, even when he knew the things Token was saying were completely true... If Thomas really wanted to be with Craig, if he really wanted to try to really have a relationship with him, nothing Clyde or anybody else said would change his mind. Even if he was doomed. And he was doomed. Clyde knew it, Token knew it, and there was nothing they would be able to do but watch it happen, just like they'd seen the exact situation unfold many times before.

"Drag..." Token mumbled to himself. "I hope Tweek doesn't do anything to that, I have a move when it's my turn again." He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, the vibrations causing his empty pop bottle to tumble off the table onto the floor. Leaning over to pick it up, he said something that sounded to Clyde like, "Ohweeftobaysnight."

"Wh – huh?" Clyde blinked in confusion at his friend as Token straightened back up and set the bottle back on the table.

"We...have to go to Bebe's tonight?" Token said it like a question, sighing at the instant reaction he got from Clyde.

"No."

"Dude, come on. Tweek really wants to go." Token glanced up at the doorway to make sure they were still alone.

Clyde was shaking his head furiously. "No. I can't – you know he'll be there."

"He'll be at school on Monday too," Token pointed out in his matter-of-fact way. "You can't avoid him forever."

"Why not?" Clyde demanded, crossing his arms and letting a lock of hair fall in front of his eyes.

"You just can't. I know it's not going to be easy for you, but did you hear me?" Token leaned forward; Clyde could feel his eyes on him but he refused to look. "Tweek wants to go. Tweek never wants to go to parties, you know him. He's probably been trying to get up the nerve to go to one of Bebe's parties all summer."

"But." Clyde let out a noise halfway between a sigh and a whine. "I don't want to."

"Think for a second," Token insisted. "Tweek's been avoiding Craig as much as you have. You know what he's been doing ever since, you know, before Thomas, when—"

"Don't," Clyde interrupted, biting his lip. "Don't say it."

"Since then," Token amended. Then being code for since Craig was with you. "Do you know where Tweek was that whole time? With me. Didn't you ever wonder why you hadn't seen him until two weeks ago?"

"I didn't want to see anybody," Clyde mumbled.

"I mean before that. You know, then." Token sighed. "He can't handle being around Craig anymore. Imagine what it must be like for him, feeling the way he feels and knowing he can't have what he wants."

"Because they're best friends." Clyde coughed and reached for his glass of water.

"I think it's more than that," Token said quietly. "Wendy said—"

"Do you talk to Wendy about everyone's problems?" The words came out sharp and bitter, and Clyde blinked, surprised at his own harsh tone.

"She's good to talk to," Token said simply, ignoring Clyde's uncharacteristic hostility. "She said that Craig didn't seem like the type of person who would really give a fuck if someone was his best friend or not, in a situation like this, and honestly, I kind of agree with her. "

"What do you mean?" Clyde drained his glass of water and got up from his chair to get some more. Token slid around so he was sitting sideways, keeping one eye on the kitchen doorway.

"Since when has Craig ever cared who a person was, as long as he got what he wanted? He hasn't ever left Tweek out of anything before just because they're best friends." Token held up both hands and counted on his fingers while he spoke. "There was the thing with the fireworks, the time he needed us to all give him money because he'd borrowed too many cigarettes from Christophe, every time he's gotten kicked out of his house and needed someplace to crash, any time he's needed to copy homework, he's gotten us to back him up on every lie he's ever told even when it was completely obvious it was bullshit—"

"Yeah, okay," Clyde cut him off. "I get it." He leaned against the sink. "So...?"

"Well, you know how he tends to avoid anything he thinks will cause too much drama?"

"Uh-huh..." Clyde's stomach did a sort-of backflip and he swallowed nervously.

"So Wendy thinks..." Token picked up his empty pop bottle and started twisting the cap off and on. "Wendy thinks maybe the reason Craig won't touch Tweek is because he...cares too much about him."

"Cares too much," Clyde echoed hollowly, gripping the edge of the sink with both hands.

"Like..." Token sighed. "Like, she thinks Craig...might be in love with Tweek."

Clyde felt like he was going to either throw up or cry, but he knew he couldn't, not now, not when Tweek was going to come back any second. "So the – the whole time," he managed to say, still hanging onto the counter like it was only thing keeping him from collapsing. "The whole time – everything – he was just..."

"I don't know if she's right," Token said quickly, his tone completely contradicting his words; he did think Wendy was right, Clyde could tell. His friend dropped the bottle back onto the table. "She might be way off, who knows, it is Craig, after all. He's not exactly easy to figure out."

"No..." Clyde shook his head, his dark brown hair flying back and forth. "No, you know what...?" He swallowed hard, letting go of the counter with one hand so he could wipe his watery eyes with his sleeve. That same thought had crossed his mind too, more than once; in fact, that had been one of his main reasons for finally deciding to ask, that night in May, why he and Tweek were still Craig-virgins. Of course, he'd lost most of his courage, only questioning his friend about Tweek, but when Craig had responded, Clyde had ignored the fact that, 'he's my best friend' didn't sound much like a legitimate excuse coming from Craig. Craig didn't have much in the way of morals, but if nothing else, the black-haired boy would always have a valid reason for his actions; and, like Token had said, Tweek being Craig's best friend hadn't deterred the latter from involving the poor blond in anything else. It had to be something else. Token—and Wendy—made too much sense for Clyde to just be able to ignore them. "You're – you're probably right," he said miserably, with a small, sad sigh of defeat.

"Look, I'm sorry." Token leaned back, looking up at the Donovan's kitchen ceiling. "I know you really liked him."

"It's..." Clyde couldn't bring himself to say the word okay. He wasn't okay, not even after a whole summer. He didn't know if he would ever be okay. But there were more important things to think about right now, like how he and Token could keep Tweek from hurting as much as Clyde was right now. "I'll...live," he finished, deciding against more water and crossing his kitchen to sit back down. He glanced at the doorway. "You think he's okay in there?"

Token followed Clyde's gaze. "We were supposed to go right to Bebe's from here. He's probably just extra-worried because he doesn't have another shirt to wear."

"Why do you think he wants to go so much?" Clyde kicked at the leg of his chair with his heel. "You said he couldn't handle being around him anymore."

Token shook his head. "I don't know. Unless... No," he said quietly, as if to himself. "No, he wouldn't – he's Tweek..."

"What?" Clyde unconsciously started chewing on one of his thumbnails for the millionth time.

"He – you don't think he would actually ever tell Craig how he feels, do you?" Token spun the pop bottle in circles on the tabletop. "I mean, he doesn't do that kind of stuff, he's Tweek."

Clyde hesitated; taking his thumb out of his mouth, he watched the bottle spin. "How long did you say Tweek's liked him for?" he said.

"Since ninth grade," Token answered, catching the bottle before it spun right off the table and onto the floor.

"He's been keeping a secret for two and a half years?"

There was a loud clattering as the bottle hit the floor. Token and Clyde stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Clyde rested his arms on the table, burying his head in the soft fabric of his sweater. "Goddammit," he said, his voice muffled. This could go one of two ways; either Craig would keep up with being a douchebag and do to Tweek what he'd done to Clyde, or the blond would actually be the one person who could put a stop to Craig's quest for ultimate sluthood, and Clyde would have to see them every day, together and happy.

It made him feel like a horrible person, but honestly, he wasn't sure which scenario he would prefer.

... ... ...

Clyde's stomach was flipping and his throat was dry as he trudged up Bebe's driveway, trailing behind Token and Tweek. It was barely nine o'clock and yet, as they passed some of their classmates on the way to the Stevens' front door, it seemed as though the general population had already consumed a fair amount of alcohol. Clyde wasn't really one for getting hammered; alcohol had a tendency to make him sick, and he hated being sick. Almost as much as he hated being around people who were drunk out of their minds. He wasn't looking forward to being here tonight, but he was doing his best to shove aside his personal feelings about everything, for Tweek's sake. The blond stood on Clyde's right, shaking more than ever, and Clyde was worried that he was going to have a heart attack or a seizure or something. He was about to turn to Token and ask if coming to this party was really a good idea after all, but Token had already reached out and pushed the doorbell. The door swung open in seconds, and Clyde winced slightly as his eardrums were assaulted by music so loud it was a wonder anybody could understand the lyrics.

"Token! Hi!" Bebe greeted Clyde's best friend enthusiastically, flipping her wavy blonde hair over one shoulder. "Wendy's in the kitchen, I think. Clyde, you finally came!"

"Yeah." Clyde stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded awkwardly in Bebe's general direction, his eyes on her feet rather than her face. Not that she noticed; she'd just realized who the third member of their group was.

"Ohmygod, Tweek?" She bit her lip, then smiled and gestured to the chaos going on behind her. Clyde could see Kyle, fury on his face, chasing Cartman across the room. "Um, wow, I didn't think you'd... But I'm glad you did, I mean, these parties are always so much fun, I bet you'll have a great time!" She let out a loud giggle, twirling some of her hair around her finger.

"Ow, stop – knock it off, Kahl!" Cartman howled from inside. There was a loud crash, and Bebe whirled around.

"You guys, stop it!" she screeched, hurrying in their direction, leaving the front door open and Token, Clyde, and Tweek on her doorstep.

"Well?" Token said, with a glance at his two friends.

"Well..." Clyde mumbled reluctantly, following Token inside. Tweek twitched his way over the threshold, shutting the front door behind them.

"Come on." Token led the way to the Stevens' kitchen, having been to the house many times before. Wendy was there, reading a magazine, alone at the table. She brightened when she saw Token, and got up from her seat to hug him. Tweek lowered himself unsteadily onto a chair the furthest away from the door, while Clyde stood uneasily in the middle of the room.

"How are you?" Wendy said to Clyde when she'd unwrapped herself from Token. "It's good to see you."

Clyde shrugged. "I'm, you know," he said lamely.

Wendy nodded as if she understood completely; for all Clyde really knew, maybe she did. "It's good to see you too, Tweek," she said to the blond with a small, sympathetic smile.

Tweek managed a small smile in return, though his eyes kept darting nervously around the room. He hadn't said a word since they'd left Clyde's house. Clyde knew that Tweek was wondering the same thing he was: when exactly was Craig going to show up? The thought of seeing him made Clyde's stomach hurt and again he silently asked himself just what the hell he was doing here. It was Saturday night; school started on Monday. He could have just waited less than two days, and given himself more time to get ready to see him. Why had he let Token talk him into this?

He opened his mouth to tell Token that this had been a horrible idea, and that he was going home. He couldn't handle being here tonight, not even for Tweek. But just then, the kitchen door swung open, and in walked Craig, holding on loosely to Thomas's hand.

Clyde stumbled backwards a few steps until he crashed into the refrigerator. Pulling open the door, he leaned down so he was out of sight and tried not to hyperventilate.

"Hi, Craig," said Wendy, her tone warming noticeably as she greeted the other. "Hi, Thomas, how are you?"

"I'm – cock! – I'm okay ,Wendy, how are y – you?" said Thomas, his voice strained as usual. Craig laughed, and Clyde's stomach flipped again at the sound.

"Isn't this kid great? You should hear some of the shit he says, fuckin' priceless, man," Craig said with another laugh.

"He's not a toy," Wendy said sharply. "Tourette's Syndrome isn't funny, Craig."

Clyde could just see Craig flipping her off. "Whatever."

Wendy let out a frustrated huffing noise, and Clyde heard her leave the kitchen, snapping behind her, "I'm going to go talk to Bebe, Token, come find me when you're done with him."

"Fuck, how do you do it? Seriously," said Craig with a snort. "She's like...fuck, I don't even know what she's like."

"Whatever," said Token, echoing Craig from seconds before. "Just because you hate her doesn't mean everyone has to."

Clyde was getting cold, just standing there with the fridge door open. Swallowing nervously while his stomach twisted uncomfortably, he slowly closed the door and straightened up. As luck would have it, at that particular moment, Craig was facing in Tweek's direction, not his, having just noticed the blond.

"Tweeker, where've you been? I haven't seen you in months." Craig dropped Thomas's hand and pulled a chair out from the table, sitting on it sideways.

"Ghh!" Tweek jumped about a foot in the air. "J – just h – hanging out w – ngh! – with Token," he stuttered. "I f – figured you were g –ghh! – going to be b – busy all s – summer..."

"Busy with what? Sitting on my ass doing nothing?" Craig smirked, not seeing Thomas's face fall at his words. "Come on, Tweeker, you know I'm never too busy to hang out with you."

Clyde caught Token's eye; his best friend shook his head and shrugged the kind of shrug that translated into, "See?"

"W – well." Tweek wrapped his arms around himself and, shaking, said, "C – can I t – nhh! – talk to you d – downstairs for – for a minute?"

"Sure," Craig said without hesitation, standing up. "You okay?"

Tweek tried to stand, fell back onto the chair, then managed to get to his feet on the second try. "N – nhh," he said, his whole body twitching to the left. "I j – just. I have to t – talk to you." He made his way unsteadily across the room, towards the stairs that led down to Bebe's basement, passing in front of Clyde. And, since Craig was watching Tweek's every move, Thomas apparently forgotten, his eyes also landed on Clyde. The brunet stood, frozen, caught in Craig's gaze like a deer in headlights.

"Haven't seen you all summer either," Craig said casually.

Clyde's heart sunk; somehow he'd managed to keep some recluse hope alive that, even now, maybe Craig would see something more in him. But no, of course he hadn't; Clyde wasn't Tweek. Summoning up all the strength he had, Clyde was somehow able to look Craig in the eyes, shrug like the best two weeks of his life had never meant as much to him as they had, and say, "Been busy."

"Weak," Craig said in response. "Token's on Wednesday?" Token cleared his throat from behind Craig, and the latter redirected his question to him. "Your house on Wednesday?"

"No Red Racer," said Token, rolling his eyes at the middle finger he'd known was coming.

"You like Red Racer, don't you, Tweeker?" Craig smiled as the blond twitched a twitch that could possibly have been a nod. "At least someone's got taste." He started down the steps to the basement after Tweek, pulling the door shut behind them, but Clyde could still hear him going on about the merits of that stupid TV show all the way down the stairs.

"You okay?"

Clyde looked up at his best friend. Token was watching him carefully. Clyde gave the basement door one last look before nodding once, slowly. Seeing Craig had hurt, yes; it had hurt a lot, actually. But, Clyde thought, maybe he had healed a lot more than he'd thought he had. He didn't feel quite as much like his entire world was going to shatter into hundreds of pieces just because he wasn't worth more than just friendship to Craig. Maybe, just maybe, he had been so miserable for so long because he had convinced himself that because of everything that had happened in those two weeks he was 'with' Craig, he'd lost the other boy's friendship. Knowing that that wasn't the case, that Craig was still willing to hang out with him like everything was normal, maybe that helped. Everything wasn't normal, not yet, but...maybe someday it would be. Clyde turned his attention to Thomas, who was staring at the floor.

"Are you okay?" he said to him.

Thomas looked up, opening his mouth to speak. "Shit!" he exclaimed, groaning unhappily at his sudden outburst.

"I'm going to go find Wendy," Token said to nobody in particular, pushing open the kitchen door and disappearing into the living room.

Thomas sat down in the chair Craig had vacated, fiddling with the hem of his plaid shirt. "He's," he started, pausing as if to find just the right words for what he wanted to say. "I'm s – shit! – stupid, aren't I?" he finally said, sounding to Clyde just like he had sounded the entire summer: completely and utterly miserable.

"No," said Clyde, feeling awful for Thomas. "You, uh... You really liked him, huh?"

Thomas nodded. "I don't know w – cock! – why," he said, sighing. "I heard, you know, rumours, when I transferred here, but then I met him, and he – he just..."

"Made you feel special?" Clyde finished, remembering how Craig had made him feel like he was the coolest person in the entire world.

Thomas looked up at Clyde, surprised, but nodded. "He s – said my Tourette's made me – aw, shit! – awesome." His expression turned back into misery as he sighed again, his eyes drifting back to the floor. "It just makes me a freak."

"No," Clyde said again, shaking his head. "Dude, no, it doesn't. Craig's just...kind of a douchebag sometimes."

"I should've known, though," Thomas mumbled. "Some people tr—" He covered his mouth with both hands, muffling another outburst. "Some people tried to warn me, but he seemed so sincere, I didn't – didn't listen to them."

"I know the feeling," Clyde said quietly.

Thomas's head snapped up, but Clyde was now looking down at the floor.

"I know what it's like to feel special like that. To have him make you feel like that," the brunet continued, tracing the lines of the linoleum with his eyes. "I just – I thought maybe I had a chance with him, back – back in June. And it sucks now, knowing that the whole time he wasn't – he didn't feel what I felt. But, I don't know." He looked up, at the door to the basement. "I don't think that makes us stupid."

Thomas's eyes came to rest on the basement door as well. "I don't know if I c – cock! – can feel anything else right now."

Clyde searched his mind for something intelligent to say. "It gets better," he offered, feeling lame for not being able to come up with anything better than that. "I don't know... I don't know how much time it'll take but...it gets better."

"Do you think..." Thomas said quietly, after a few minutes had passed. "Do you think he'll do the same thing to Tweek?"

"I don't know," Clyde said honestly. "Tweek's always been the only person Craig's ever treated like a real best friend, so maybe not. I hope not." He sighed. "Tweek, of all people, doesn't deserve that."

Thomas didn't deserve it either, Clyde thought, as he studied the other boy carefully. He'd only talked to him maybe twice before tonight, and never for very long, but he genuinely liked the blond. Having hung out with Tweek for years, Clyde barely even noticed the effects of Thomas's Tourette's. Wendy was right, he realized, Craig had been treating Thomas like a toy. Like the Tourette's was something God had given Thomas just so he could be Craig's own personal swearing machine. Clyde shot a quick glare at the basement door before clearing his throat and saying to Thomas, "You wanna ditch this party and go play video games at my house or something?"

After a second, Thomas nodded, and the shadow of a real smile crossed his face. "Yeah. That – shit! – that sounds like fun."

"Come on, I'll go tell Token we're leaving so he doesn't wonder where I am," said Clyde, leading the way out into the Stevens' crowded living room. He and Thomas passed Red and Jason, who were somehow slow dancing to Down With The Sickness; Kevin and Heidi, who were shamelessly making out in the middle of the room; Kenny, Cartman, and Butters, the latter caught in a tug-of-war between the others; and finally found Token and Wendy, talking to Bebe and Kyle near the front door.

"—don't care, I don't want you fighting in my house, you might break something!" Bebe was saying to a sheepish Kyle.

"Hey," Clyde said, waving one hand in the air a little bit to get his best friend's attention. "Thomas and I are going to take off, okay?"

Token's eyes flicked back and forth from Clyde to Thomas; Wendy smiled and whispered something in his ear. "Yeah, okay," Token said when she was finished. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Clyde nodded at Bebe and Kyle. "See you guys Monday." He and Thomas dug their shoes out from the pile of footwear in front of the door, slipped them on, and left the house.

"So what kind of games you like?" Clyde asked as they headed back in the direction of his neighbourhood.

"Res—" Thomas cut himself off by clamping both hands over his mouth. "Resident Evil or – or House of the Dead, is what I play the most. I like killing zombies," he said.

"So do I," said Clyde, thinking of how his video game collection consisted of mostly zombie-killing games, with a few skateboarding games mixed in, for Token. He brushed some of his hair out of his face, and let his arm fall back to his side.

And then, just because it felt at the moment like something he should do, Clyde slipped his hand into Thomas's. Thomas didn't pull away; Clyde felt the other boy's fingers tighten around his own, and he smiled to himself, his first real smile in weeks.

Yeah, he was going to be okay.