Author's Note - Hi, welcome back to Kyle's Mission/Cursed Gift. This is one of the four multi-chapters I will be continuing after my absence, along with Hunger, LAWKI and Fears and Trembles. I'd appreciate if you tried those ones out for size as well.

Author's Note 2 - I am so thankful for all the readers of this story, and other stories, for that matter, who have supported me, and been so kind to me, amidst my breakdown. You have all given me strength to write for the South Park fandom once more.

Author's Note 3 – I am making a blog on Tumblr, which will illustrate most of my personality, and for you guys to ask questions, and read little samples of these stories, teasers, and the occasional one-shot. Link in profile.

I never had much of a body fit for alcohol and drugs. When I was little, and seemed to be in hospital every other week, morphine, and all the other fluids they injected me, passed through my system slowly, making me ask for more and more when I didn't feel the effects right away. It was mostly the reason I had never drank much alcohol when I was alive – I breathe out. I am alive. I mean when I was a boy.

My head thuds as I sit up, propping myself up on bare elbows, when I'm so sure I was wearing a cardigan with my dress last night. My vision is as sluggish and blurry as my mind as I look around the room I'm in, decreeing with deliberation that I'm alone, in bed, naked. I almost wish that I could come to the same conclusion every other teenager would come to, no matter what gender they are, but I can't. Nothing hurts or…feels weird down there, so why the hell am I bare?

I pull the covers off of me, and rub my eyes, smudging sleep across my cheekbones. Piece by piece, I remember more. Arriving at Craig's party, finding the truth about Craig and Tweek, talking to Stan, kissing Stan – where was he? I duck down, a movement I spare a thought of regret for as everything spins, and search the floor for my clothes. I retrieve a large rugby shirt, that I presume to be Craig's Dad's, thus also leading me to the conclusion that this is Mr and Mrs Tucker's bedroom, so I have to get the hell out of here, and find Stan along the way. I also grab a pair of sweatpants, and throw them on, not caring for my actual clothes.

I edge down the hallway, stepping carefully past each scrap of food, and fragment of broken glass, and glancing cautiously at each sleeping student. I don't really see anyone I recognise, asides from Cartman, and I freeze for a second, staring. He's awake, that much I can tell, from the position he's in, but his eyes are closed, and even if he does know I'm here, he doesn't make a remark over it. I never noticed he was even here. I frown, and turn away, running down the stairs and looking around anxiously.

Craig's draped over the couch, fast asleep, a beer bottle in hand, as his arm hangs off the back of the couch. Bebe's in a pile at his feet, and I blink at the dried tear tracks I can see on her face. What happened to her? What happened to everyone? I should probably wake Craig up before his parents get back. I hear a sound behind me, and turn to see Tweek, wide eyed, focused on Craig.

"Don't wake him. Not until I'm g-gone." He mumbles, reaching for his hoodie. I sigh and nod. I take a few steps forward, knowing I have to confront Tweek. Since I can't go to Heaven now, I am no longer obligated to help my friends, or anyone, and that fate idea was probably all a bunch of crap, with all the people meant to be together, but it doesn't mean what happened didn't happen, and that I don't have questions about it all.

"Why the hell aren't you guys fucking together after everything?" I demand, and he flinches, shocked and alarmed. I don't even care anymore. 10 seconds go past before he speaks up.

"We can't get back together, just – nngh – like that!" He reasons. My eyes run over his appearance. His messy, golden hair. "It was stupid." Tears well up in his eyes. His hazel, feminine eyes. "To think things could go back to the way they were." He shakes his head frantically and looks down at his feet. His scuffed black converses.

"We were perfect, b-but things can't be like that forever. Don't you get it? Don't you understand?" His volume increases. "I love him, and he loves me. He hurt me so much, and I hurt h-him off so much. I-I'm a freak, and he's an – an asshole. We worked through that for a little while, but things come to an e-end." He gulps, and drops his hoodie, and I barely register as he runs out of the house, brushing past me for a split second.

I stay for a few minutes, or maybe it was half an hour, for all the shouts of "We gotta get out of here before Craig's Dad kicks our asses!", before leaving, as well. I never get to see Stan.

Stan and I were perfect, but I don't think we are, anymore.

an4 - I have an idea for this story, but I'm not sure how many of you will like it. I don't want to give the game away for everyone, so only private message me if you want to know what's going to evolve over the remainder of the story.

Please review.