Something terrible. Taster.

A//N: Please read the comment s at the bottom of the page! And, I hope you guys enjoy this preview.
   Oh, and if there are any mistakes, I apologise beforehand. ;;>3<




Was it normal for a sixteen year old boy to feel this way? Was it ordinary for a kid, in a town as messed up as South Park is, to think these things?

Craig shuddered to himself as he zipped and rebuttoned the front of his jeans. He felt queasy and light headed, but other than that, he felt good. More accurately, his body felt good. The fact that he'd just sorted out a rather awkward problem which had popped up during his English class probably helped him along.

Still, whacking himself off after day dreaming things like that did little to settle the knot in his stomach, or the tumble of emotions that kept rising like bile in the back of his throat. Sure, release had felt awesome (he was still inexperienced enough to find it satisfying) but the guilt trip and utter confusion that swung into him like a baseball bat after the initial high faded away left him feeling insecure and self conscious.

And Craig Tucker didn't normally feel any of these things. Everyone knew that: if there was anything that annoyed him, he'd just flip it the bird and be on his way. There was nothing that got him riled up - except, this time, they were all wrong. And it was driving him crazy.

The raven haired boy unlatched the door and walked to the sinks, dropping his 'high-and-mighty' swagger as soon as he confirmed that he was alone.
   As he turned the tap head and leant over the sink to splash the icy cold water onto his face, he tried to think about the implications of the dreams.
   But all he could think about was him - the way that he moved, the way he spoke, and the way his faded white wifebeater clung to his skin. The same pale skin that darkened in places to display great purple bruises which were newly formed and freshly blossomed, the same skin that displayed the marks and cuts of recent fights and skirmishes with his friends; the dirt marks on his cheeks and hands that showed his obvious lack of care or hygiene; the hickey on his neck from his most recent fling, and the red welt across his cheek that declared he'd been slapped hard after letting her down not so nicely afterwards. And then, there was his hair - thick and blonde and permanently tousled.
   Craig felt the same tingling and rise of warmth in his loins, and he knew something was wrong.

The black haired boy looked up into the mirror, staring straight into the troubled eyes of his reflection. Something terrible had happened.

He'd fallen in love with Kenny McCormick.

"Ah, fuck."