A/N: Hello again! (As always, haha,) I'm sorry for forgetting to update last Sunday! I had forgotten that I had to write instead of just do proofreading this time around and decided to update today instead. This chapter will hold a few changes in the story, and maybe even how you see some of the characters... Someone does something that isn't too good! This chapter is a little on the shorter side, but I hope you like it anyway. Please read and enjoy, my friends~

"Craig, I don't get this one, either."

"Did you look at it?"

Clyde fell silent, bent over so he was hanging upside-down from Craig's bed, the hairs of his head nearly brushing the carpet. He stared at Craig's blue eyes blankly, his face void of any expression other than a dumb look. "Well... kinda."

"Try looking again. Look real hard for me," he responded, looking back down at the book set in his lap. One hand rested on the carpet below where he was sitting on the floor, the other fiddling with the corner of a slick page. A couple papers and a notebook sat around him, squiggly, Craig-like writing scratched over them. The room was quiet save for the occasional scratching of pencil on paper or the shuffling of fabric as the boys shifted around.

"Craig," the brunette whined again, drawing out the vowels and groaning, "I don't get it. This homework is way too hard for sophomores." The black haired boy sighed, setting his book to the side and moving so he sat next to the loud male. Clyde shifted so he was sitting upright and not hanging off the edge of the bed, the blood rushing away from his face. "This one," he said, pointing to a multiple choice question on the thin packet.

"Okay, look over here. It should be in this section." Craig pulled over Clyde's book so it was situated between their legs, flipping a few pages and pointing to a bold subtitle, leaning back to let the amber eyed male get a look. Clyde chewed on the eraser of his pencil as his eyes scanned over the dark text, stopping near the bottom of the page. He let out an enlightened sounding noise, reaching over to the packet and sloppily circling one of the choices. Clyde continued flipping the pages, stopping occasionally to write something down, cross out an option or mark an answer, biting the end of his pencil when he wasn't using it.

Twenty minutes had passed before he declared, "And that's the last of it!"

"Good job, Clyde."

"Aren't you gonna finish your homework?"

"Nah. Long term assignment, I'll do it some other time. So what do you want to do now?"

Clyde rocked from side to side on the mattress, bumping Craig's arm occasionally. He let out little humming noises to accompany his thinking, finally turning to the black haired running back and offering, "Video games?"

"Did that at Cartman's."

The brunette continued to rock, biting his lip and looking around the room as he thought. "Talk about girls?"

"Too early for that."

"Guys?"

"What?"

"Never mind. We could... find something to eat?"

"You can. I'm not too hungry yet."

"Ugh. Okay, um... We could... make out!"

"Funny, Clyde."

"No, I'm serious! I'm highly attracted to you, Craig. We should totally make out. That would be great. You have a totally rockin' bod, and I want it. All to myself. I'm sure Mr. Adler does too, but I won't let him have you." For a moment Craig was actually wondering if Clyde was serious. The playful smirk on his face said he was kidding, but his eyes said something completely different.

"Whatever, dude," he said, at loss for anything else to say. He reached behind Clyde, grabbing the pillow from the head of his bed and smacking Clyde playfully with it. "Maybe Cartman was right, maybe you are a total homo."

Clyde tried to talk through the pillow, his speech coming out muffled through the fluffy object. Finally, he grabbed it out of Craig's hands and threw it back at the tall male. "I am not a homo! And I can't believe you would agree with Cartman! Are you getting, like, sick or something?"

"No, not as far as I can tell. But you have been acting a little weird lately. As in not obsessing over how hot you think Bebe is for the past like, month. Admit it."

"Dude, I'm the same old me, nothing has changed."

Right, Craig thought, except for the fact that you seem totally uninterested in girls all of a sudden, and acting weirdly buddy-buddy towards me.

"Seriously though, you sure you're okay? You're acting extra spaced." A hot hand pressed to the side of Craig's face, Clyde leaning over to press their cheeks together.

"Dude!"

"What?"

"This is a prime example. The boob-crazed Clyde I used to know would have never done something like that. That would have been way too gay for you like, four weeks ago. Something's changed, dude."

"Whatever. Can we not talk about our feelings or how you think I'm changing? It makes me feel like a girl or like I'm going through puberty or something." Clyde sighed, falling back flat on Craig's bed. Not changing, Craig thought, changed. The ebony haired boy fell back with Clyde, the amber eyed male turning and propping his head in his palm. The pianist could feel the eyes on him.

What happened to you? Craig thought, What happened to the crybaby, perverted, chick-loving loser I used to know? I don't think you'll ever admit it, Clyde, but you've changed, and I'm sure you know it as well as I do. You're hardly flirting with Bebe anymore, you don't crack the dirty jokes you always did anymore... You're a completely different person, and I'm not sure whether it's for better or for worse. The blue eyed boy's heart knotted, his stomach sinking. He just wished he had the balls to say it out loud.

Craig turned on his side, finally looking back at Clyde. I need to fix it. I need to find some way to bring the old Clyde back, or he'll never be the same again. "Let's stay up all night."

"Huh?"

"Let's dig out my old Red Racer and fighting video games and play them. I'll find my dad's old Playboy magazines and we'll flip through them like we used to. And we can make a ton of popcorn and chips and drink all the soda in my fridge and wrestle and do all the other stupid stuff we used to. C'mon. It'll be awesome." Craig's heart felt tangled, hoping that just maybe Clyde would go for it. Maybe Craig could get him back to how he used to be, and pull him away from being a stranger.

Clyde stared at Craig for a second, eyes flicking back and forth across his features before he crawled over to the TV, pressing in the power button and waiting for the screen to flicker on. He looked back at Craig emotionlessly before letting a Cheshire grin stretch from ear to ear. "Let's do it."

Craig groaned, rolling over and rubbing his eyes. The menu screen for some action movie was displayed on the television, the volume down way low. After he had listened to the soft music and looping sequence a few times, he sat up, turning off the DVD player and falling lazily back onto the makeshift bed he and Clyde had made on the carpeted floor. Said boy to his right hadn't stirred with Craig's noisy movements, still snoring peacefully (or lazily) into his pillow. Craig had heard that people look more beautiful in their sleep, but Clyde sure didn't. He smiled with amusement at Clyde's mouth, which was hung wide open, his eyebrows and the corner of his mouth twitching occasionally. The brunette was sprawled sloppily on the ground, his shirt pulled up slightly and his hair riddled with cowlicks. Typical Clyde.

...Typical Clyde? Craig thought, blinking with a disbelieving look on his face, Holy shit, maybe it did work. The running back stood up, brushing himself off and glancing at his alarm clock. They couldn't have slept for more than an hour or two, but it was still earlier than when Craig usually got up for school. He sighed and figured he might as well get an early start on the day.

After a long, hot shower and changing into clean clothes, Craig returned to his room. He still had a towel over his head, using one hand to try to rub his thick hair dry. He was putting the last of his books and spirals into his bag when his alarm clock rang, startling both him and Clyde.

"Good morning," was the drowsy greeting the boy with the brown hair gave, rubbing one eye with his fist. Craig returned it, moving over to the still-ringing clock and silencing it.

"I'll be downstairs. Get ready, school starts in forty."

"Thanks, mom."

It was still dark outside when Craig got downstairs and threw his bag next to the door. Dark enough for him to have to turn on several lights to be able to see anything. Craig ambled into the kitchen, grabbing the bag of bread and throwing four pieces into the toaster. He slathered them with butter and jam once they were done, pulling out two plates from the cupboard and playing the two slabs of toasted bread on each.

Clyde came downstairs with a sleepy limp as the ocean eyed boy was setting the plates on the table.

"You're not taking a shower and you're going to school in your boxers?"

"I'm not-" Clyde started, looking down at his bare knees. "Oh." He retreated upstairs. When he had made his way down again, jeans were pulled over his legs and a wet comb had been taken to his hair, taming the brown mess. Craig had already finished his toast, about to fall asleep when a scratchy material smacked into his face. Craig all saw was his blue earflap cap when he opened his eyes before he lifted it from its resting place on his nose and instead jammed it over his head.

"Thanks, dude."

Clyde made a noise and snatched the toast off the plate, taking one in his mouth. A mumbled mesh of sound came form around the crust of the bread which Craig deciphered to be "Let's go." Clyde was chomping away at the warm bread and pulling his backpack higher up on his shoulder with his free hand. The black haired male followed him to the door, grabbing his bag once they got there and turning the chippy knob, pulling the door open for Clyde.

The two said nothing to each other on the way to school, solely for the reason that they were both beyond exhausted. Craig's eyes were hardly open during the drive, half-lidded on their way into the large building. The entire day felt like walking through water to him, everything happening in slow motion, a second feeling like it lasted ten times longer than it should. When Mr. Garrison asked him the answer to a math problem he responded with something that sounded like 'fish'. He wasn't called on for the rest of the day.

Finally, the bell signaling the end of the day screeched over the intercom, doing nothing to help wake up the black haired male. Clyde walked over to his desk, jostling his shoulder when he saw that Craig's black eyelashes were kissing his cheekbones.

"Dude, I'm tired too, but wake the fuck up. We have football practice."

Craig responded with an uncharacteristically shrill whine, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder anyway. He guided the half-asleep male to the locker room, their arms looped together.

"Seriously, wake up, Coach Adler will be pissed if you go to practice like this."

"'S all your fault," he muttered, slowly pulling his jersey and pants onto his body. They were left in the empty, concrete walled room, the last ones out the heavy metal door.

"Good to see you, Donovan, Tucker. You two need to quit screwin' around and get yer asses out here faster, hear me?"

"Yes, coach."

"Go do laps with the others. For being late, you get an extra three. I'll tell you when you can come back."

Craig whined softly again, heading out onto the track with Clyde by his side. Their feet hit the pavement with little energy, propelling them forward slowly.

"You got cinder blocks strapped to yer feet, boys? Get a move on!"Coach Adler continued to give them inspiring compliments each time they passed him. Craig and Clyde had long since lost count of their laps when the pudgy man called them back, letting them exercise with the other boys. Clyde was right by the ocean eyed pianist the whole time, catching him when he was on the verge of sleep, continuing to casually jostle him to keep him awake. They managed to get it through practice and scrimmage without falling asleep too many times, successfully fooling their coach into thinking they were completely awake the whole time.

They were the first into the locker room, pulling off their uniforms and tossing them back into their lockers as usual, not bothering to wash them.

"Fuck!" Craig let out a string of expletives as the cold water soaked his head, immediately reaching for the knob on the shower, trying his best to find a warm setting. Of course, no matter what way he turned the dial the water was freezing cold, making him shiver from the second he turned on the water from the second he turned it off.

Maybe it was the cold water, or maybe it was just his high self-consciousness and terrible confidence, but he could have sworn the he felt eyes following down his body and back up again, just like the day before. Craig switched off the shower and wrapped the towel around himself as soon as he felt he was sufficiently clean, trying not to seem hurried or suspicious as he exited the slippery room.

Laying on the slick wooden bench between the rows of lockers, Craig was staring at the concrete floor beneath him, trying to memorize all the little bumps and pimples on the hard surface. He was already dressed in his regular clothes again, his backpack by his side, his hair still slightly damp. Around ten minutes had passed when Craig felt a sudden weight on his back and writhed underneath, trying to shake off whatever was on him, or at least move out from under it. The tall boy let out a noise like all the air had escaped from his lungs when he hit the gray floor, looking up to see Clyde sitting on the bench. The brunette was clutching his stomach, his face a nice shade of red from laughing.

"Dude, you should have seen yourself... That was hilarious," Clyde choked between laughs, trying his best to catch his breath. Even when he had stopped laughing his face kept the red color. Craig glared up at him from his spot on the scratchy concrete.

"Fuck you, dude."

"Hey, it was funny." Clyde extended a hand, pulling Craig up from where he was lying on the ground.

"I almost don't want to offer you a ride home." Of course, Craig had only said the comment to tease him, but the running back could have sworn he saw a flash of hurt or anxiety wash over Clyde's face for a split second, but it was gone before Craig had time to blink.
"I don't need a ride home, don't sweat it. I'm just gonna walk."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I figured the exercise was good for me."

"Don't you want to get home to sleep though?"

"I can walk, it's really okay. But I wouldn't say no to a ride to school tomorrow."

"Alright then, shorty. You got it."

It wasn't until several days later that Craig could really tell that something was wrong. Clyde was over at the pianist's house again, sitting on the bed and refusing to make eye contact with Craig. His hands were planted on the sheets, the tips of his fingers occasionally curling the fabric under them. While his leaned-back stance should have looked relaxed and casual, the brunette seemed to be stiff and uncomfortable. From the moment Craig's friend walked in, he could tell that something was bothering the childish male. He hadn't moved from his spot by the door he had opened for Clyde, watching the fidgety boy with an almost hawk-like stare. Craig listened to the alarm clock on his nightstand, counting the quiet seconds as they passed, trying to read Clyde's expression. He was on one hundred and eighty-nine when Clyde swallowed, cleared his throat, and swallowed again. "Craig, will you... come sit with me, please?" He almost faltered when he heard Clyde say 'please', but started towards the bed anyway. "And shut the door." When he didn't say it again, Craig felt a little more comfortable.

Complying to Clyde's request, the ebony haired boy closed the door with his foot and took a spot on the bed, leaning slightly forward and trying to get Clyde to look at him. a handful of seconds passed until Craig gave up, leaning back and sitting straight and simply waiting for him to speak. It wasn't long until Clyde took a breath and said, "We're friends, right?"

Craig whipped his head to the side in surprise, shocked at Clyde's question. "That's... rhetorical, right?" He was even more surprised when Clyde shook his head of brown hair back and forth.

"Just answer it."

"Well... yeah, dude. We've been friends since like, preschool. Why do you even have to ask?"

Clyde flinched at the response he got, as if someone had pushed down sharply on his chest. Craig furrowed his dark eyebrows, trying to figure out where he was going with this. "So we're best friends, right?"

"Super best friends, you know that," Craig cut him off. Clyde continued like he hadn't said anything.

"And best friends don't hate each other for anything."

"Uh-huh..."

"And so you wouldn't hate me for anything, would you?"

"Clyde, you're kinda starting to worry me. What's wrong?"

"Please, just answer me."

Clyde's serious tone set off a warning signal in his head. Just when Craig thought "Dude, again with the 'please'? No, I won't hate you for anything. You're my super best friend, I couldn't hate you no matter what you did."

"Absolutely nothing?"

"Nothing. Now will you tell me what's bothering you?" Clyde's chocolate eyes flickered across Craig's face, studying it to an almost ridiculous extent. It was clear even to Craig that Clyde was searching him to make sure that he was being completely honest. "You can trust me, Clyde. I wouldn't lie to you, you know that."

"Cross your heart?" he asked, looking up at the black haired boy, his childish side starting to show through his seriousness. Craig did his best to resist the urge to smile.

"Cross my heart," he assured, making a show of raising his left hand and drawing a little 'x' below his collarbones.

"Okay." Clyde let out a little breath, trying to get back his nerves. Craig shifted a bit towards him to show that the brunette had his full attention, knowing that Clyde was about to tell him what had been on his mind. "Craig," he started, lifting his head to look up at the handsome running back, "What would you do if I said that I liked you?"

"...Wait, what?"

"I like you."

"...Wait... What?"

"You're gonna make me say it again? I-"

"No, I heard you, I just... What?"

"God, Craig, what don't you get? I like you. I don't want to be just 'super best friends'. I want to be something more. I want us to date."

"I... But you're... But you're Clyde! You're girl loving, boob crazy, totally straight super best friend Clyde! You're the straightest guy on the planet, how can you..."

"I dunno, dude! I just do."

"For how long?"

"A... while now."

A heavy silence fell over their heads, consisting of Craig burning a hole into what he could see of Clyde's face with his eyes, and Clyde looking at anything that wasn't Craig. The stone eyed male opened his mouth to say something, not exactly sure what that something would be, but he couldn't bring himself to even start to talk. He watched as Clyde's eyes filled with tears, the only thing that revealed his true emotions. The rest of his face remained stoic and still, like if he moved at all he would shatter. The only thing Craig could bring himself to do was to look away and place his hand on top of Clyde's. The pianist did his best to pretend not to notice when the tears spilled over and ran down the other's baby cheeks, but ended up squeezing his hand just a little tighter. Clyde began to choke down sobs. The tight pressure of Craig's hand over his was all he needed to know that Craig couldn't return his feelings.

The next day, Clyde acted as if nothing had happened. He slapped Craig's back playfully, made his usual dumb jokes, laughed when Craig joked back. But the light that had previously sparkled in his chocolaty eyes was completely gone, replaced with a dull and buffered shadow, like his eyes were made of fogged up glass. When he had left from Craig's house the night before, the dejected boy muttered something along the lines of, "And now I'll never be able to get over you."

It's not like Craig didn't understand... Well, actually, that's probably untrue. Craig had been through his fair share of crushes, requited or not, but just seeing the look on his best friend's face screamed at him that no, he didn't understand. After Clyde had gone home, the dark eyed male spent the remainder of his evening lying on his bed and just thinking. How long has this been going on? How could I have been so insensitive? Why didn't I notice before? The questions of their relationship, his actions, his ignorance turned into questions of how he could help Clyde. How he could get the brunette to let him go. I can't bring myself to hurt him... I can't stay away from him, since I see him all the time at school and practice... There's no way he'll answer truthfully if I ask him if there's anything I can do for him... I don't think I'm brave enough to tell him he needs to get over me... I'm not even sure if I'm brave enough to start talking about it to him anyway... what in the world would I say? Where would I even start?

It wasn't long before he got an answer.

He had stayed a bit over time for football practice to work with Coach Adler, late enough for the sun to be setting. Even Craig noticed how pretty it was, what he could see of the sky was stained with watercolor reds and pinks and oranges, like someone had tipped their paint pallet upside down over it. However, the majority of the warm colored spill was plastered over with white, the heavy snow clouds above dumping everything they had, the cold flakes coming down to their final resting place on Craig's long eyelashes, the crown on his head, or brushing and sticking down his shoulders. He simply stood there until he lost track of time, watching as the sky gradually became redder and darker, casting a dark light under the clouds and a frayed glow over them. He sighed, not noticing when someone came up behind him, footsteps crunching almost silently on the ground.

"Craig..."

It took him a minute to register that someone had called his name, eventually his eyes widening a little and turning around.

"Oh, Stan... Sorry, I was... The sky looks really nice, doesn't it?"

"Yeah... Yeah, you're right. It really does," Stan replied. However, his piercing blue eyes never left Craig. "Can I talk to you?"

"You are. What is it? If it's about our math homework, don't even ask me, I didn't get it either."

"No, it's not our math homework," Stan stopped halfway through his sentence to laugh. "It's just- we're pretty good friends, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I could say so." And it was true, as the years went by, Stan and Craig had become better and better friends. Eventually, their two groups of friends merged into one. Weird, I'm getting deja vu.

"Okay. Well, it's... Craig, listen. I like you."

The ebony haired boy was taken off-guard, jumping back a little as if he had reached the high point in a horror film. After the shock quickly passed over him, he bit his tongue to resist the urge to groan. Again? And then, he had an idea. "You mean in a friend way, right?"

"Not- not really." Maybe it was the light, but Stan's face seemed to have taken on a light flush.

"So you're saying you want to... you want us to date?"

"W-well," Stan started, clearly taken aback. "I mean, yes, I do."

The cogs were turning in Craig's head at an almost inhuman speed. If I do this, he thought, I'll have a good reason to not be able to return Clyde's feelings. He'll have to move on, there's no way that he can continue to like me after this. Now I'll be able to be around him and not have things be difficult or awkward. This will fix things. "Well," This will fix everything. "If you ever wanna go out sometime..." It has to.

"Are you... are you serious?"

"Sure. Definitely. We should date. I want us to date."

This has to fix everything.

A/N: So how much of this did you see coming? I tried not to make a whole lot of this super obvious to what was going to happen, but it didn't work too well, haha! I tried to make the part where Stan was going to ask him out too obvious in the very beginning, but I thought I would describe the sunset and the snow like Stan did to Kyle back in the Style chapters. I also thought it was kinda obvious that Clyde was going to confess to Craig, and even that he liked him... but oh, well. Did Craig's actions change your opinion of him? In all honesty, my opinion is that he isn't that bad a guy. I'm trying to make it seem like he doesn't know that what he did is going to hurt Clyde, but I'm not completely sure how well I conveyed that. Also, I was testing the different emotions I was using here, because I'm using this story to try out some new things... I was going to make someone angry to try that out, but I forgot to! I almost never get angry, so it just slipped my mind, haha.

Anyway, onto more important things, I'm a little sad to say that the next chapter of this will most likely be the very last. I'm going to wrap everything up, clarify things a little more, and all together just finish this thing up! I want to thank the people who have stayed with me through the whole thing especially, I love it when you tell me you read it and you liked it, and especially when you guys asked questions. I've had so much fun with this, and I hope everyone enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you (a little early) for a spectacular three months!