Tweek squeaked slightly when I kissed him, but after a few seconds, he started kissing me back, surprising me when he deepened the kiss and wrapped his arms around my neck. I used my body to gently push him back on the bed. I was now leaning over him, my arms braced by Tweek's shoulders.

     We broke away for air, and Tweek turned his head to the side a little, his eyes still closed and a slight blush coloring his cheeks. I wasted no time reclaiming his lips, setting my tongue to explore his mouth. Tweek tangled one hand in my hair, the other delving into the back of my shirt.

     The doorbell chose that moment to ring.

     I ignored it, hoping Tweek would do the same.

     "Craig," he murmered against my mouth, " I need to get the door." I sighed, gave him one last kiss, then let him up. I watched him stumble slightly out of the room, a satisfied grin on my face that he couldn't see.

                                                         Tweek's P.O.V

     I walked down the stairs, fingering my still tingling lips, a smile turning the corners of them as I answered the door. The smile faded immediately when I saw who was on the other side.

     "Hi there, Tweek."

     "Butters! -ngh!- what the hell happened to you?!" I exclaimed, staring at him in utter shock; his pants were ripped, revealing what looked like burn marks on his knees and shins, one shirt sleeve was ripped off and he had a large, bleeding gash on his arm, the other arm had various scratch marks and bruises on it, the rest of his clothes were soiled, he had a cigarette burn on his left cheek, one of his eyes was swelling shut, there was a dark red mark on his neck, and there was dried blood caked in his hair. His head was bowed as he stood on my doorstep, shifting uncomfortably in answer to my question. I motioned him to come inside, then shut the door behind him.

     "Butters, what happened?" I asked again softly. He raised his head to mine, our eyes met, and in that instant, I saw the pain and sadness in them. I reached out to him, hugging him, and he clung to me like a child.

     "I'm sorry, Tweek! I didn't know where else to go. I'm not really friends with Stan and them, and...well..." Butters sobbed into my chest. I could feel his tears soaking small spots of my shirt.

     "Hey, Tweek, what's going- What happened,Butters?!" Craig said upon coming down the stairs and seeing Butters. Butters sobbed harder. *He won't tell me,* I mouthed at Craig. He nodded his head and went into the kitchen. I heard the water from the kitchen sink run briefly, then turn off, and Craig came back with a damp washcloth. I led Butters over to the couch and he slumped down on it, still clinging to my shirt. I managed to coax him into letting go so that Craig could clean off the wounds.

     "Butters? Who did this to you?" I asked again. He squirmed, then whispered, almost inaudibly, "My dad." I looked up at Craig, our faces mirroring each other's shock. We'd known that Chris and Linda Stotch were strict, but we didn't think that either one of them would beat their son.
     "YOUR dad?" The disbelief was evident in my voice. Butters nodded his head, looking down at the ground. I shared another look with Craig, then he resumed cleaning Butters' wounds gently.
     "I'll be right back." I  assured him, going to the upstairs bathroom to get some bandages and neosporin.
                                     Craig's P.O.V
      "Jesus Christ..." I murmured as I found another large burn on Butter's elbow.
     "D-don't tell anyone it was my dad." Butters said, refusing to look at me.
     "Butters," I said, dabbing at his elbow with the cloth, which now had a fair amount of blood on it, "What your dad did is a felony. He has to realize that there are consequences for what he did." I said firmly. I know you're supposed to be more gentle and understanding in these kinds of situations, but I didn't have as big a holding space for sympathy as Tweek did.
     "Besides, I think you need to go to a hospital for these burns." At this, he wrenched his arm away and began sobbing again.
     "I c-can't! Then I'll have to tell them what happened, and they'll take my dad to jail! I d-don't want that to happen." I watched him, bewildered as to why anyone would want to keep their parent around after they'd beat their kid. If it had been my dad, I would have been more than happy to throw his ass in jail.
     "Butters, these are pretty bad. You have to go to the hospital and get these treated. Neosporin or peroxide will only do so much." I said, gripping his arm gently and returning to the wound.