#idnas8

A hand on Craig's wrist pulls him to a halt and whirls him around as startling light blue eyes meet his. Craig vainly attempts to pull away, only to hear words that stop his movements, words that are just as stilling as a kiss. "Don't run away this time. Please," Kenny begs as he stares at Craig intently. His eyes match the worry in his voice that Craig can somehow catch. It is the worry that freezes Craig's bones. He stops struggling to run away. His body slumps and Kenny drags his dead weight from the sidewalk and to the privacy of trees.

Craig leans against a tree to hide the fact he might just fall apart from the memories that are now digging inside of his mind. He averts his gaze from Kenny's eyes to the dirty snow that covers both of their feet. Kenny is too close, and he is all too aware of it. The thoughts that are rubbing uncomfortably against his memories in his jumbled mind to create something else as that familiar unsettling feeling sets in the pit of his stomach and throughout his entire being. He cannot place it as his hands begin to shake. No. He was not allowed have a panic attack right now. The tendrils of one are not creeping in and choking his throat, causing him to breathe deeply. He is not lifting his hands to block out the thoughts, and he is definitely not going to cry. This is not a panic attack. Not now, any time but now.

Reality trumps fantasy as Craig begins to fall to the snow trembling slightly. Kenny instantly recognises it from the previous incident in the woods. It is the exact same protective position as before. Craig's breath comes out laboured as he tries desperately to calm down. There is no Ruby here to help him this time. Kenny wants to help, but he is hesitant to how. His childhood vigilante skills never taught him how to deal with things like this. He wants to know what Ruby said, but he is sure she has a certain something he does not. He sighs deciding anything he tries might be better than nothing at all.

That is why there are suddenly two orange clad arms wrapped around Craig to still the shaking and placate the thoughts. That is why Craig is so suddenly shocked out of his panic attack at a sudden, affectionate embrace as his indigo eyes open wide having not really expecting anything but definitely not expecting this. He is wide-eyed and surprised, gloved blue fingers somehow finding their ways to the arms to check if they are really there. Fingers that end up gripping the parka that they come into contact with, the body.

"Stop running away. I'll only catch you," Kenny whispers. His blond hair tickles Craig's cheek as he says the words. The words that cause Craig to finally find the him he hid behind. Still, somehow he does not want to move from the snow he sits in. He only wants to stay here in that peaceful moment. This moment in which he feels a spreading calmness in his fingers and toes.

"That's so fucking cheesy McCormick," Craig finally says to shatter the silence growing between them. The words are said in their usual sarcasm, but you can hear the slight crack in Craig's voice when he makes the comment. He is still shaking ever so slightly, but now his mind blames the cold, blames the wind, anything but himself. He is holding the other with no sign of letting go despite his obvious lack of trust in these types of things (too close, too close). He pushes away his nerves and panicking thoughts as he focuses on the small warmth from the body pressing against his. He has no idea how long they stay like that, him leaning in and buried in the fabric of Kenny's parka and Kenny all too wrapped around. All he knows is that when they do break apart, a part of him longs to be wrapped in the arms again (that part of him that does not win although).

Craig stares at his feet as he keeps his knees pressed to his chest. He is now trying to ignore the boy in front of him, He tries to pretend he is not there and this did not happen. He allows the silence to return and envelop them. His apathy and indifference wash over him like a blanket (an invisible cloak). Craig wants to be invisible, to hide and fade away, but he is trapped here in good ol' South Park with the memories that stab at him every day, every night, and in every fucking nightmare he cannot seem to ever wake up from until he is biting back the urge to scream. He is trapped in red and violet and blue (blood and bruises and scars). He cannot fathom any of it, his existence and what he ever did so wrong to deserve it all.

"I was born."

The declaration is a quiet whisper carried on the wind right to Kenny's ears. He does not see the confused expression, only continues in a mechanical monotone. "I was born, and I was hated for being born." That is the answer to all his problems as far as he can tell. Everything is caused by contempt everyone (anyone) has for him. He is despised for being who he was, who he is not, his simple existence. The thoughts are pushing through his mind and eats away reason like a parasite. He very well knows that he is loved. He is cared about. Still, those thoughts seem ridiculous in that moment. Memories paint everything sombre black, sombre blue.

Then it is gone as fast as it came. The words are whispers in the wind, and Craig is standing up as if the words had not been said, as if nothing really did happen. His legs are walking off before Kenny could even stumble after him. He pulls at his hat to make it cover his eyes more only to find it cannot envelop him like the security blanket it used to be, but the simple feel of the knit beneath his fingers reminds him of hot cocoa, laughing, cosy couches and books on coffee tables. He wants to go home (not home, but home). He wants to go where his heart is, and where he can be himself without the façade of being okay. He walks faster at the thought.