Inspired by a kid running through the cafeteria clutching their hair and screaming, "EVERYBODY IS PRETTY!" and the immediate reaction being like eight girls mumbling about wanting to be pretty. I'm sorry if this offends anyone who cuts themselves or has an eating disorder.

Pretty

"He scares me, man." Token muttered, gesturing to where Butters was berating Tweek about refusing to eat. Clyde snorted, giving him a what-the-fuck look. "Tweek? He only weighs like sixty pounds, he couldn't hurt you if you stood still and gave him a hammer."

Token gave him one of those looks that Craig mentally labeled the better-than-thou stare only intelligent rich kids could perfect. "Does no one else see that he has an eating disorder? I'm scared for him, man."

Clyde looked the twitchy, now-being-force-fed-bits-of-apple blond over dismissively. "There's nothing wrong with Tweek."

The rich kid stare was back. "When was the last time you saw him eat without being forced to?"

Clyde blinked, seeming to think for a bit. "I... I dunno. Definitely not this year..." Token grimaced at him. "Do you realize that he's almost always near you? Shouldn't you see him eat at least once or twice a day?"

The teen looked Tweek over again, taking in his tiny frame and loose clothing, how his collar-bones, exposed by his mis-buttoned shirt, jutted out dramatically, how light he was... "Fuck."

That about summed it up. "He's textbook anorexic."

Finally, Craig put in his two cents. His voice was little more than a whisper, and the other boy's had to strain to hear it. After all, Craig was always worth listening to. "I am always afraid... That if I touch him... He will break."

At this moment, the subject of their conversation wondered over, rubbing his teary eyes with shaking shoulders. Even though he was standing and Craig was sitting, Tweek was almost exactly eye level with him. "Cr-Craig!" he whined, eyes wide and blue and highlighted by deep insomnia-induced bruises, "Th-they made me eat, an', an', they kept telling me I'm t-too little and that... There's somethin' wrong with me, and Eric called me a, a freak, and..." he continued to blabber on wiping away the tears as they came and staring at Craig with complete trust in his eyes.

Now that they knew what to look for, the other two boys, watching with heavy hearts, could see the obvious hesitation and the fear in Craig's usually stoic eyes when he reached out to touch the blond. His hand, gentle as though he were handling china, pressed cautiously on his lower back as he uncrossed his legs, a silent offer. Tweek took it gratefully, scrambling into his lap and curling up there, relaxing against his best friend's chest. This gathered little attention, as it's a daily thing. "Tweek..." Craig sighed.

Glancing with the smallest hint of embarrassment at the quieted boys he sat with, Craig looked Tweek in the eye and asked pleadingly, "Will you eat a little bit? For me?"

Tweek looked unsure, wringing his hands together and shifting uncomfortably. "I have strawberries." Token offered out of nowhere. "You like strawberries."

"B-but," he protested weakly, huddling closer to the much larger teen's chest and feeling one arm wrap loosely around his waist, "I already had a glass of orange juice and some apple today."

Clyde balked, "That's all you've eaten?"

Tweek nodded, looking uncomfortable. Token tossed a small container to Craig, who caught it and opened it up, revealing a portion of sweet-smelling chopped-up strawberries. "My mom grew them herself," the black boy urged, "She'd be heartbroken if you didn't have one."

Craig smiled when he heard a whispered, Too much pressure!, plucking one of the sweet red berries out of the bowl and pressing it to the blond's lips. Frown stuck in place, Tweek parted his lips and allowed the chullo-wearer to slid it past his lips. It was sweet and juicy and every bit what Tweek remembered it to be and more. He moaned a little at the taste, perking up a little bit. "I can't r-r-re-mem-ber, jeez, I just can't talk today, I can't remember the last time I had a strawberry." he admitted with a bit of a struggle.

"Have another." Clyde urged. Tweek lifted his hand and shook it to let the over-long sleeves of his shirt fall to his elbows, revealing a dangerously thin forearm. Fascinated and horrified, Craig grabbed his wrist, making a circle around it with a his thumb and fore-finger. It reached with plenty of room to spare. His own hands shaking, the older boy pressed his palm to Tweek's.

The blond's bony fingers didn't reach the edges of his palm. Slowly, Craig folded his fingers over the other's palm, exhaling heavily. "Have another." he repeated, voice monotonous.

Mildly frightened by the way Craig's hands clenched into fists after his hands were released, he obediently ate another slice, sucking the sweet juice of his fingers afterward.

"Tweek." Clyde started bluntly. Token looked like he wanted to stop him from speaking, and with good reason. "You do realize that there's something wrong with you, don't you? With your size? Your eating habits?"

The effect was instantaneous. Tweek's eyes filled with hurt tears and he rubbed at them automatically. He slid off Craig's lap, head hung and shoulder's shaking, and the moment his feet hit the floor he was running, gone from the cafeteria in seconds. Token punched Clyde hard in the shoulder, sighing long-sufferingly and muttering, "It's called tact, asshole."

Craig merely flipped him off as he stood to follow the teen.

OoO

Tweek didn't bother closing the stall door as he fell to his knees in front of the toilet, bracing one hand against the wall and leaning over with a broken-sounding sob. There's something wrong with you echoed in his ears as he pressed his fingers past his lips, shoving them as far down his throat as he could manage and gagging a little. Tweek started crying harder, realizing belatedly that he was desensitized, his gag reflex dulled, and went to try again, only to be yanked back violently by his collar.

"Don't you dare, Tweek Thomas Tweak." Craig growled, using the teen's name for full effect. Tweek stumbled a little as he was pressed back into the wall, forced to tilt his head up at a dramatic angle to look the older boy in the eye. Tears ran freely down his face as he struggled half-heartedly.

Craig made an impatient noise upon realizing how uncomfortable it was to tilt your head that far down, and sank to his knees with no hesitation. "Tweek," he begged, letting his arms fall from the teen's shoulders as he sat back on his calves, "Why would you do that?" he spat out the last word like poison, gesturing angrily behind them.

Tweek was trembling, futilely trying to catch all the tears rolling down his cheeks and shaking his head frantically. "Tell me." Craig demanded.

"I... I want..." he trailed off, looking off to the side. "You want?" Craig prompted.

"I want to improve myself." he said it like something he'd thought on and said a million times, none of his usual hesitation and stuttering.

Craig stared at him for a moment, lips moving without sound. Wordlessly, he fell forward, forehead hitting the teen's tiny, bony chest. His arms curled around Tweek's minuscule waist.

"Cr-Craig?"

"If I weren't terrified I'd break you," Craig mumbled into his shirt, "I'd punch you."

Tweek made a distressed noise, a frightened noise, but didn't move away. Finally, Craig leaned back and demanded with a dangerous note to his tone, "Why the fuck would you want to improve yourself through starvation? What made you think it'd be an improvement?"

"Think about it, Craig." Tweek whispered back, "Everyone in school is pretty. Almost everyone. The girls are thin and curvy, and the boys are strong and tall. Because the town is inbred. South Park breeds pretty children."

Craig pondered this, face after face flashing in his mind. Eventually, he had to conclude that the blond was right; almost every teenager in South Park was attractive. He wondered vaguely why the same couldn't be said for the older generations. Maybe they were pretty children once, too. But what does that have to do with Tweek? "I do not understand." Craig murmured at last. "Why would that matter?"

Tweek's hands, soft but bony and small, cupped his cheeks and tilted his head up in the same gentle way Tweek did everything. "The Tweaks aren't from South Park, Craig. The pretty rule doesn't apply to me... But I want to be pretty like everyone else."

Craig's mind was blown. "Tweek..." he almost whimpered, pressing his face into the blond's hands with a helpless expression. How could he begin to explain how beautiful he was? How breathtaking his eyes were, how gorgeous his hair was before it started falling out from what Craig recognizes now was malnutrition?

He struggled to put this to words. "Your only... Flaw, issue, imperfection... Is... Well, this." he mumbled, pointing to his jutting collar bone, his tiny wrist, all the other signs of malnourishment. "Stop starving yourself." he commanded finally, giving up on expressing himself.

Tweek gave him an entirely un-Tweekish glare of defiance and shot back, "Then stop cutting yourself, Tucker."

The raven flinched, glancing subconsciously down at his wrists. "How did you..?"

"I watch."

The pair sat in silence, unfazed by the bell ringing shrilly. Tweek looked and felt tired, wishing absently for a cup of coffee but more than a little afraid to try and leave. Craig was rubbing his wrists, and, after a long moment of consideration, tugged his sleeve up, revealing white linen wrapped securely from his wrist to halfway up his forearm. He carefully untied it, letting it unravel to reveal criss-crossing scars, some old and faded, some brand new and still an irritated pink color, along with several fresh new cuts. Sensing that this was an 'I'll show you mine' situation, Tweek clumsily undid his mis-buttoned shirt, revealing a painfully thin chest, jutting, prominent ribs, an inverted non-stomach. Craig almost gagged. He could see Tweek's heart beat clearly. Cautiously, he pressed a forefinger to the steadily moving area of skin, feeling his digit move with each increasing-in-speed beat. His fingers were shaky and rushed as he redid the blond's shirt for him.

"I'll stop if you stop." Craig offered without thinking. Tweek shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at the cuts, and mumbled, "Too much pressure..!"

"It takes thirty days to form or break a habit." Craig insisted desperately, "Let's at least try."

Hesitantly, Tweek nodded.

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