Don't kill me! This was a challenge I got a long ass time ago! I'm so sorry! *whimpers and ducks away from rotten tomatoes*

Red goth grumbled to himself as he watched Curly goth watch Stan. Damn conformist asshole, who the hell did he think he was? Red knew exactly who he was, a pussy faggot conformist who didn't deserve Curly.

But then again, who did?

Red liked to think he did, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. He liked to think that because they had been in the same group for so long (he was loathe to describe them as friends because that was so conformist) that he knew enough about his…fellow goth (once again trying to avoid the 'f' word) that he could be a sufficient partner for him.

But no Curly wanted Stan, of all people. When would he get over the fact that he wasn't Raven anymore? He wasn't depressed, or dark, or even slightly non-conformist. In fact, that ass was as about as conformist as it got.

Why was Curly being all conformist? Crushing after the popular guy, the Homecoming king, the Quarterback of the football team. He growled and turned back to his poetry book.

Darkness swirls around me

I wander through the cold night

Alone

So alone in the world

As if I was the only one

No one comes to help

No lamps to light my way

The only person who could care

Is staring into space

Loving another from afar

I tear my flesh off of my brittle, broken bones

Clawing at my chest until I find my heart

I rip it from my gory gash

The blood flowing from my gaping wounds

And bubbling up over my lips

Like some morbid Gwen Stefani lipstick

I hold my bloody hands out to the darkness

Heart still beating

Beating for you

But you take no notice

Too busy watching him

Is some conformist more important

Than the one person who's been there the entire time?

He growled and ripped the page from the book, crumpling it up and tossing it over his shoulder in his anger and storming off. He didn't even notice when it hit a certain chubby female member of their group.

Henrietta had been minding her own goddamned business, smoking a cigarette and watching those damned fluffy clouds roll through the clear blue sky. What right did they have to look so damn cheerful when they world was going to hell and her life was already there? No right, no right at all.

Just as she was about to flip those damned clouds the bird, her thoughts were interrupted by a piece of paper hitting the top of her head and bouncing off. She frowned and picked it up. Whoever threw this better have a damned good reason unless they wanted her fist in their face.

She uncrumpled the paper and read over the writing on it. She sighed in exasperation and rolled her eyes. Great, more drama for her to fix. She looked around at who could have possibly thrown the paper. When she saw Red's retreating form, obviously very angry, she decided it must be his. And judging by the poem and the obsession even she hadn't been able to ignore, she could hazard a guess as to who it was about.

She sighed and stretched out, standing up and depositing the paper in Curly's lap. "Here, douchebag, Red wrote this. Just don't tell him I gave it to you." She said before making her way in the direction Red had gone.

Curly stared after her and read over the poem. His eyebrow raised slightly and he pocketed the poem, taking one last, long look at Stan. He looked the boy who had once been Raven up and down. He realized he was obsessed, but he wasn't sure he wanted to stop. It wasn't that he particularly liked the boy, but he had always been the one that got away.

Stan had been within his grasp all those years ago and had just slipped right through when that Melvin fag Butters had refused to join. Apparently it had 'opened Stan's eyes' and ever since then he had been chipper and outgoing. He had finally even gotten over himself long enough to admit his feelings for his super best friend were more intense than he would have liked to admit and even asked the red-head out.

Curly growled at the thought. It just wasn't fair. What did Broflovski have that he didn't, huh? He was just some conformist asshole, even if he was a Jew.

Well you know what, Raven? Look out, because now Curly had a way to get to him that he had never thought of before. He might regret having to hurt the person he hated least in the world, but that's what Red got for having such conformist feelings as love. Love was not the mushy-gushy Valentine's hearts everyone thought. Love was all consuming hatred that made you want to make that person yours completely, crushing their spirit and breaking their soul until they couldn't fight back anymore.

And that's what he planned on doing to Stan. He would crush him, ruin him.

And Red was going to help.

He smirked and gave a devious chuckle, Kindergoth scooting away from him warily. No one wanted to get in Curly's way when he was in one of these moods. He stood up, trench coat swirling dramatically around his legs as he swept off in the direction the other two goth kids had gone.

FORGIVE ME FOR THE SHORTNESS!! OMG *cries* I just…I wasn't sure how exactly to go about this, and then I got caught up with everything and I've been sick almost non-stop the whole second nine weeks of school! I am sososososososososososooooo sorry it took so long! But now that I've got a plot going it should be slightly faster…but anyone who ready my chapter fics knows how I am about updating hehehehehe.

I'M A HORRIBLE PERSON, I KNOW!