For Tweek, a south park fanfic

South Park © Matt & Trey.

Craig wakes up and glances around his bedroom. There is a faint pounding in his head as he recalls the night before. Liquor, liquor, losing his pants at some point, banging some random dude, more liquor.

"Fuck," he says aloud, wondering how the hell he made it home.

Craig's reputation is anything but sweet and it's a well-known fact throughout the school.

It's Sunday now, so at least he has a day to recuperate before the shit-show he'll most likely inevitably be welcoming come Monday.

He doesn't like drama, but for some reason it tends to follow him around nonetheless.

It all started two years ago, when he broke up with Tweek. The reason had been because Tweek caught Craig screwing another dude, and because of that, everyone started to give Craig the cold shoulder, pissed that he could cheat on such a nice, loyal boy.

Since then, Tweek refuses to talk to him. He's not exactly pissed but mostly just sad. He still twitches excessively, and several believed he drank bottle after bottle of hard liquor to forget the pain while others thought he was dealing with it in other ways… but those were just rumours. It's easy to talk shit about someone when you don't have to see them around.

The memories are still raw, still harsh. The pictures, drawn and taken, rest in a forgotten scrap book on top of Craig's dresser, doing nothing but reminding him of the pain he caused the one person who really cared... of the pain he continues to cause him just by existing.

Craig shakes it off for not and finally gets out of bed. The cold air greets his bare chest and he can't help but wonder why he isn't wearing a shirt. He brushes it off for now and puts hand on his backside, wincing slightly. Whoever he was with last night, the asshole was anything but gentle. He decides to peel off last night's clothes and change into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before heading downstairs.

In the kitchen, he sees his mother. She is sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. Her hands are neatly folded in a way that tells Craig she has something to say.

"What?" he asks expectantly.

"Where were you last night?" she questions, dismissing his own curiosity.

"Out," Craig answers vaguely.

"Out," she repeats gravely, staring at him. "Out where?"

"A party," he explains.

"A party," she repeats him once more. "Whose?"

"Jason," he says.

She lets out a breath. "Do you remember anything about last night? Do you remember how you got home?"

"No," he admits, dreading to find out.

"You were SO drunk," she starts harshly. "Some blonde girl drove you home. You were passed out in the backseat of her car. She rang the doorbell and told us you were unconscious. So, your father had to come and lift you out of her damn car."

Great. Fucking Bebe drove him home. She has the biggest fucking mouth in the world.

"Oh," is all he musters up.

"You woke up a little while later and threw up on your shirt," she adds bitterly.

"Oh," he says again. "Guess that's why I wasn't wearing one when I woke up..."

"Your father is so damn disappointed," she whispers. "He couldn't even bear to look at you."

It makes Craig feel bad, which makes him angry, which makes him defensive. "Well, it's his own damn fault for expecting anything better of me!" he snaps back.

"Craig Tucker, you watch your mouth!" Laura snaps, narrowing her eyes into a glare. "I have been tolerant of your potty mouth for years, but I can no longer just sit here and be quiet about it after the stunt you pulled last night! Ever since your father encouraged you to be yourself, you have started to get worse and worse!" She has to force herself to calm down, but it's obviously hard for her to do so. She looks like she's about to cry. "What happened to you, Craig? You were such a good, happy child... Then you started to misbehave, drinking and screwing around with so many strangers that we can't even bring ourselves to defend you when people call you a whore!"

She shakes with anger, burying her face in her hands and breathing heavily. This has been building up in her system for a long time, it appears, and Craig's actions the night before and this morning seem to be the straw that finally broke the camel's back.

"Your sister isn't this bad!" she continues, raising her head. "If you can't get your act together, Craig Tucker, we WILL kick you out! You hear me?! Your father refuses to house a teenage drunk and I can't bring myself to fight with him anymore over it!"

Craig stares at his mother. "So… you would kick me out to, what, teach me a lesson? What the fuck do you think would happen if you kicked me out, Mom? You think I'd stop screwing around? No! Obviously I'd be doing it a hell of a lot more!"

Craig knows she is only trying to scare him. That's why it isn't working. He's just going to try and scare her right back.

"Calling your son a whore is abusive," he adds calmly.

"I didn't call you a damn whore, stop putting words into my mouth," Laura responds. "You're so manipulative. It doesn't work on me, though. I'm your mother."

"If you kick me out, I'll probably end up dead somewhere and it'll be your damn fault," he says gravely. "How would you feel about that?"

She seethes. "Craig. Listen to what I'm saying and take it as a warning so it doesn't come to that."

"I don't like threats," he says.

"God!" she shouts, throwing her hands up. "Who the hell are you?"

"Your son," he responds simply.

She stands, shaking her head in shame. "No. You're not my son. My son wouldn't be hurting everyone around him by acting so selfish and stupid." With that, she leaves the room, teary eyed. She is at her limit and she cannot be around Craig anymore today.

Craig lets out a breath, his head still pounding. He moves to the cupboard and takes out the Tylenol, swallowing two pills and washing them down with a cup of water.

His chest hurts. He doesn't know why. Maybe it's because he's so fucking miserable he can hardly stand it. He puts a hand over his heart, trying to will away the physical ache.

"God damn it…" he mutters to himself before going back upstairs.

He retreats to his bedroom and when he turns around, he spots Ruby in the doorway. She gives him a cynical smile and says, "Heard mom shouting."

"She's overreacting," Craig argues.

"Do you remember who you slept with last night?" Ruby asks somewhat offhandedly.

"No," Craig admits.

"Then maybe she isn't overreacting."

Craig scoffs at that. "Who fucking cares?"

Ruby rolls her eyes. "You might."

"Well, who was it, then?" he asks. "Spit it out already."

Ruby tends to show up at all of the parties Craig goes to. Craig knows it is simply because she likes a good time. Plus, she's nosy and likes to pretend she's older than she is. When she's all dolled up, she can pass for a few years older.

"Bill Allen," she reveals.

Craig grimaces. "Ew…"

Ruby laughs, crossing her arms and leaning in the archway. "Yeah, I didn't think you'd be too thrilled over that."

Craig shakes his head. "Look, what do you want?" he asks her, wanting her to be serious. There is no way that she just wanted to tell him who he slept with the night before. There is a light in her eyes and he knows it all too well. It's the look of 'I know something that you don't,' and he hates seeing it. It makes him want to grind his teeth. "Spit it out."

"Everyone knows," she adds, swinging back and forth on her heels. "You guys left the door open, so we got a front row seat."

"Bet you LOVED that, pervert," he bites. "Watching your brother get fucked… What the hell is wrong with you?"

She sneers at him. "Sicko."

Craig smirks faintly, having struck a nerve. Sure, he's adopted and they aren't TRULY related, but it's still a messed up thought. "Either way, it doesn't bother me that people saw." A pause. "Is THAT all?"

He has a feeling she's just trying to drag things out to piss him off.

"Mm, no. A certain someone was there and he left the second he saw you two touching each other," his sister drawls. "He looked like he wanted to die. In fact, I heard he was in the hospital this morning because of a failed suicide attempt... He still won't talk, even though they keep asking him over and over why he tried to off himself."

Craig's eyes narrow. "Are you kidding?"

"No," she insists.

"That's pathetic," he spits. "Who the fuck are you talking about?"

"Bill wasn't single," Ruby cryptically informs.

Craig pauses. "What…?"

"I don't know what his name is," she shrugs, "but clearly he's mentally unstable. He saw you and Bill and… well… He decided to try and off himself, I guess."

Craig's lips part in surprise.

"The things you do…" she murmurs. "They affect other people."

"That is NOT my fucking fault!" Craig shouts at his sister. "It takes two to fuck and it's Bill's fault for dating someone retarded enough to try and kill himself over a guy who isn't worth shit!"

Ruby stifles a smile. "Do you feel bad?"

"No," Craig insists. "It's not my fault that idiot tried to commit suicide."

"What if it had been someone else? Someone who you still care for?" Ruby challenges him, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. "What if he saw you two and tried to off himself? What if he had been hoping that there was still that small chance to be with you again and he saw that? What you do, whether it's by yourself or with someone else, affects everyone around you. If that kid died, everyone who loved him would have been upset and hurt, and that could lead to more deaths by those who were unstable like him in his family or his group of friends. Bill could have killed himself, too..."

"It doesn't change the fact that it's pathetic!" Craig argues, fuming. "If you put all your fucking happiness in the existence of another person, you're a damn parasite! That's NOT love. It's also not fair. People need to be able to be independent."

"But some people can't be," Ruby argues back. "Some people need the help. Some people need a shoulder to lean on and does that mean they aren't worthy of love?"

"It means they need help," Craig murmurs.

"I think YOU need help, Craig," Ruby says "You've needed help for a damn long time."

Craig rolls his eyes. "I'm fine, Ruby."

"You used to be so happy, Craig... What happened to you?" she murmurs before turning to leave. Her words ring through his head and his eyes fall on his old scrapbook. He doesn't know why, but his chest starts to hurt worse and worse.

He didn't even make the stupid book. His mother did. He just didn't have the heart to throw it out.

"You used to be happy."

He crosses his arms, wondering why people keep saying that. He can't ever recall being truly, genuinely happy. Things always got in the way. Things are even worse now. It's like he just can't help it. He can't help the way he acts. He can't change it. He possesses no hindsight. He can't think before acting. He acts before thinking and every word, every action, every emotion is pure and raw and honest.

But it only hurts him more and more doing that. Whether that hurt is immediate or a time away, it stills comes. The pain hurts him, it haunts him, and the more he looks at the scrap book, the more pain he feels in his chest. Just one look... One look won't hurt too much, would it?

His eyes glaze over and his chest feels too tight. He can barely breathe as he fights against the urge to let it out. Why? Why did he fuck up the one good thing he had? The only solid thing? Tweek's smile and his laugh feel all too real as the noirette tries to banish any and all thoughts of the boy. He swears he can hear him, but he knows Tweek isn't there. Not anymore.

As shaky as Tweek was, he was calm around Craig. He didn't get anxious and nervous. That's how Craig kind of knew that things between them were real. Craig was an element in his life that kept him calm and comfortable.

He sees him around school sometimes, but neither of them spares one another a glance. Even a quick glance would be too much.

At school the following day, Craig debates skipping… but he decides against it. He'd rather not be at home. He'd rather not play the avoiding game with his mother.

First period is English. The teacher is going to pair everyone in the class up to do an oral presentation. Craig hates the sound of that. Apart from the fact that most people think he's just a pretty-boy asshole, he HATES oral presentations. The only kind of oral he likes is the kind you do outside of school.

Craig is agitated that he doesn't know what he can do to get this stupid project out of the way.

On the opposite side of the room, Tweek is chattering away with Kenny McCormick. The two of them are whispering about who-knows-what, looking like they don't have a care in the world.

"To make things easy, I'm gonna pair everyone up by surname," the teacher says.

As soon as she gets to Craig a feeling of impending doom overcomes him.

"Craig Tucker… you'll be with Tweek Tweak," she says.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck…' Craig thinks to himself.

He hears Tweek let out an audible groan and Kenny whispers something to him, eliciting a snicker. It makes Craig feel bad knowing that they're clearing shit-talking him.

After the teacher is finished, she tells everyone to pair up with their partner and start working.

Craig feels warm in the face, but he forces himself to move. He nears Tweek, who gives him an expectant look. When they're both sitting face to face, Tweek says, "Hey, there."

"Yeah, hi," Craig mutters, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat.

Tweek is smiling and it's probably because he senses that Craig is uncomfortable. "Wanna get started?"

"Sure," Craig says. Though he doesn't know what to do. Was this really what they had been reduced to? No malice, no tears, no anything? Just... Hey? Craig grows more uncomfortable by the second. "Is the presentation free reign or something?"

"Pretty much," Tweek says, sensing that Craig clearly wasn't paying a lick of attention. "We read the book and we come up with a certain theme to explore. We check with the teacher to make sure no one has the same idea, then we're good to go. Since we read The Secret Garden, I'd like to explore Christian Science as a theme. It probably isn't one anyone came up with. So, we can look at nature as the healer. The garden is kind of a symbol. It's pretty much dead, but the children bring it back to life... and the same can kind of be said about Colin. He's a frail kid and they bring him out into the garden and bring life to him."

Craig gives him a dull look.

"Did you even read the book?" Tweek asks flatly.

"Yeah," Craig lies.

"Liar," Tweek murmurs. "I can still tell when you're lying. So, don't bother."

"I saw the movie, so that's good enough, right?"

Tweek shakes his head at the male and goes to tell the teacher their idea. Nobody else has come up with it, so it belongs to the pair. Craig is pretty sure that Tweek could do the whole thing by himself and that he doesn't need the help of the other, but he knows that it's a partner project for a reason. He has to do his own fair share of the work, or else it just isn't going to work. He offers to write the presentation as long as Tweek gives him an outline to go by.

"I know you're lazy," Tweek says out of the blue, "but can you actually TRY this time?"

"I will," Craig responds in a mutter.

"And quit being so awkward," Tweek adds as he writes down the outline. "Whatever happened between us is a thing of the past, okay? We don't need to let that get in the way of getting a decent mark."

"Since when do you care about school?" Craig asks suddenly. "You didn't used to."

Tweek and Craig had that in common, but clearly things have changed since then.

"Since I realized I don't want to be stuck working for my parents for the rest of my life," Tweek says simply.

Tweek's parents are oblivious. Tweek works at their café and it's a well-known fact that he hates it.

"Oh," Craig responds.

"Speaking of parents, how are yours?" Tweek asks, making small-talk as he continues to write down his thoughts.

"Good…" the black-haired male answers, "but they kind of hate me."

Tweek snorts at that. "Doubt it."

Craig forces a smile and doesn't bother arguing about it. It isn't a pity party, so he won't bother trying to get any sympathy from the blond.

The two work and work on the outline together, Craig just wanting to throw in points on how to make it fluffier and longer, meaning a better grade. "I don't actually want to fail, so let's try to get a decent grade to make both of our parents happy," he says.

"Yeah," Tweek agrees offhandedly, not sounding like he's paying any attention to Craig.

It's starting to piss off the black-haired male, but he tries not to let it show. He doesn't need Tweek to start hating him like half the student body already does.

It wasn't always like this. Craig used to be popular, well-liked. Then he just kind of snapped. He does things that don't make sense. He has a bad rep and it's all his own fault. He thinks that there's no coming back for him, no crawling from the bottom back up to the top. He's the school whore and everyone knows it. In fact, the idea of getting dick now in the middle of school happens to make Craig groan some in frustration.

But, hey, it's not his fault he can't keep up with his libido… but it is his fault that he has no self-control.

Tweek eyes him. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Craig says simply.

When they're finished, Tweek hands Craig the sheet full of his scribbly writing. "Type this up and we'll continue tomorrow."

"Okay," Craig says, stuffing it in his book bag.

Due to this project, Craig can't just skip class, especially since he said that he would do the typing that night. Though it seems like the male can't focus, his head beginning to hurt. When he gets to his next class, he finds himself entirely alone. Everyone knows he's volatile, so nobody sits near him willingly – nobody except for a certain girl who wants to extend an olive branch of peace, the same girl who brought Craig home the other night.

"Hey, Craig," Bebe greets softly, offering the male a smile

Craig sighs at her. "What?"

"Just saying hi," she says.

"Why?" he asks.

She chuckles. "I can't say hi to my friend?"

"We're not friends," Craig insists. "I slept with your boyfriend."

"Water under the bridge," she insists, not wanting to think about something that happened so long ago.

Craig stares at her incredulously. "How? Don't deny that it bothers you."

"I forgive you," she says, "even if you don't say you're sorry, I can tell that you are. Plus, it takes two to tango. It was his fault as much as it was yours."

Craig shrugs. "He was a piece of shit anyway."

Last year she was dating some senior douche… and now she isn't.

"Yeah," Bebe agrees. "So, um… about the weekend –"

"Don't bother," Craig mutters. "My mom already grilled me and threatened to kick me out over it."

"Would she?" Bebe muses.

"Probably not," Craig says.

"If she did, though…" Bebe trails off, pausing. "Well, my door is open."

"Thanks," Craig says flatly.

Bebe is bothering Craig. She's so nice that it makes him... well, uncomfortable.

"Come on, Bebe," her friend Wendy says from a table across the room.

Bebe smiles and kisses Craig sweetly on the cheek. "I'll see you later, Craig," she says before going over to her friend, instantly beginning to start gossiping and giggling.

Craig places a hand on his cheek, over the spot where Bebe had kissed him. What the Hell is going on? He shakes his head and sighs. "I don't understand girls," he mumbles to himself, but now... He feels that he needs some serious relief.

School is long and when Craig gets home he debates on staying in or heading out.

He decides to stay in.

He closes his door and opens up his laptop, deciding to webcam with some random old fart. He slides a hand down his pants when there's suddenly a knock at his door. He grunts impatiently, muting his mic.

"What?" he snaps.

"What're you doing?!"

It's Ruby.

"I'm masturbating!" he shouts crudely. "Go away!"

"Eww…!" she whines before doing as he insisted.

He unmutes his mic, apologizing in a grumble. His hand is cruel as he squeezes himself and starts to stroke himself a bit roughly. The old man on his webcam tells him to pull out his dick, licking his chapped lips hungrily at the sight of the young man on his computer screen.

Craig is lonely, that's a fact, but at times like this he realizes just how lonely he really is. It borders on pathetic.

This old pervert probably wouldn't even care if Craig admitted he was still just in high school. Then again, maybe he'd just like that even more.

It disgusts Craig, but not enough to stop him.

The old man coos at the sight of his dick, his own hand in his pants. "That's it. Do as grandpa tells you and you'll get a reward," he smirks.

Craig feels sick to his stomach listening to that kind of talk. He scrapes his nails along his own flesh, trying to find solace in the pain, stroking himself harder and faster. "Is there anything else you want me to do, *grandpa?*" he asks, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat.

"Get up and lay down on your bed. No pants at all," grunts the old man. "I want to see you finger yourself while you jerk off."

With a sigh, Craig shrugs out of his pants and boxers, lifting his hips and sliding them off. He kicks them onto the carpet and then lifts his shirt off before dropping it onto the pile of clothes. When he's completely bare, he lies down, sure that his entire body is in clear view.

Before he can further degrade himself, however, another knock comes to the door. Feeling a bit grateful, Craig mutes the webcam and turns off his camera for a moment. "What?" he calls out to whoever is on the other side of the door.

"A friend is here to see you," his dad tells him, though the venom is obvious in his voice. He doesn't believe that his son has any actual friends. He thinks that it's just a fuck buddy for Craig to screw for the night.

Of course, Craig doesn't know of any of his fuck buddies being bold enough to come to his house. "Send them up here," he says. When he's sure his father is gone, he dons his pants, no boxers, and turns off his computer. The old man will live without his own personal porn show.

He opens his door and sees Bebe there. Again? What the hell does she want this time?

"What is it?" he asks her, tying the string on his sweatpants.

"Just wanted to come hang out," she says. "Your dad seemed a little salty."

"He always is," Craig mutters bitterly.

Bebe surveys his room. "Your underwear are on the ground," she notices with a snicker, pointing.

He shrugs. "Well, you caught me in the middle of something," he suggestively informs her.

"Care to finish?" she says with a sweet smile.

"Sure, wanna watch?" he jokes back.

"Don't tempt me, Tucker," she giggles, sitting on his bed.

Craig sits on his bed beside her. "There is no way you came here just to hang out with me," he tells her with a matter of fact tone. "You want something." And he thinks he knows what it is. Then again, he's not exactly thinking straight. He's thinking more with one head than the other.

Bebe chuckles at his bluntness. "Oh, yeah?" she challenges.

"You wanna fuck me?" he offers, wondering if he's right or if he's being absolutely ridiculous right now. Craig isn't all that attracted to girls, but if he's in a giving mood he might say yes. He knows he's good looking. He has the kind of face that attracts both boys and girls. And Bebe is good looking, too.

Bebe is silent for a moment before she shakes her head. She doesn't want to be another one of Craig's fuck buddies. While she does want a bite out of him, personally, she actually came for another reason. "I want to know if there's anything that I can do to make you happy again," she tells him. She places a hand on his knee. "Anything at all..."

Craig lets out a cold, harsh laugh, feeling somewhat hopeless and distraught. "You hesitated…"

"I'm sorry," she says sincerely. "You're… Well, you're beautiful."

Craig rolls his eyes at that. "Yeah, I've heard it all before. I think that's the only reason people tolerate me. If I was ugly and a vile person, I'd have no redeeming qualities."

"You don't give yourself enough credit," the blonde girl argues. "People don't hate you as much as you think Craig… and they definitely don't hate you as much as you hate yourself."

"Then why don't people talk to me?" he asks. "Why do people distance themselves?"

"You were the one to distance yourself first," she points out. "They keep their distance because they think it's what you want and they don't want to set you off."

"I'm moody," he murmurs.

"I know," she says. "We all know that…"

Craig doesn't realize that he's looking away with tears in his eyes until Bebe cups his cheek and makes him look at her, wiping away his tears with her thumb.

"Craig, I want you to tell me what's really hurting you," she tells him. "What is really making you do what you're doing. We know that you aren't really an impulsive sex addict alcoholic... Well, you are, but... We... I know that you're not really that way."

"I don't fucking know!" he seethes. "That's the fucking problem!" He pushes her hand away and lets out a harsh breath, slumping forward. He's determined now to completely unravel – not in front of someone. He prefers to do his crying alone.

"Then… see a specialist?" she suggests.

He wrinkles his nose. "I'm not crazy."

"Come on," she tries to reason with him, "seeing a specialist doesn't mean anything bad. It's a way to get help and sort through your emotions."

"How the Hell is a specialist going to help me when I don't even know what's wrong?" Craig asks a bit snappishly.

"A specialist can help you figure out what's wrong," Bebe tells him surely, placing a gentle hand on his back. "If you want, I can recommend one for you. She is really good at figuring people out and she's a really good listener." Bebe contemplates saying that the specialist she was talking about was like Butters except way cooler, but she decides to keep it to herself. "Her method is a bit weird, and she's willing to do webcam therapy so you can talk to her whenever you feel like."

Craig sneers. "No, thanks."

"Pleaaaase?"

"No," he says. "That sounds fucking retarded."

Bebe rolls her eyes. "Come on… don't be like that."

"I only use webcams for one thing and it's definitely not therapy," Craig says with a sense of finality.

"Try ONE session," Bebe says.

"You don't know when to fucking quit," he mutters to himself before relenting, "Fine, if this will get you to shut up, then I'll do ONE session."

Bebe beams happily. "I can go ahead and set up the connection," she chirps, standing. She goes over to Craig's computer, turning it back on and going to a certain website. She doesn't give the male a chance to change his mind as she sets up the connection.

"So soon?"

"Yes," Bebe says. "Like I said, this isn't going to be

A woman with short white hair appears on the screen, her red bangs in her face as she situates the webcam. She looks surprisingly young for her age with red eyes and plump red lips and pale skin. Her voice has a mix of a southern and northern accent as she speaks, "Bebe! I'm surprised to see you again." She smiles and laugh lines pull around her lips. "And you're not alone, it seems. What's up, sugar plum?"

Craig is suddenly regretting his decision to one session. He glares some at Bebe who only smiles innocently at him. "Oh, nothing really. My friend agreed to one session with you, so..." She seems to give the woman her best puppy dog face. "Pretty please help him? I'll cover the fees."

"Oh, hush now. The first session is free and you know it," huffed the woman, shaking her head with a smile. "I'll do it, but he better stay for the whole hour."

Craig frowns. None of this seems entirely professional, but he tries to push that thought away for now.

"He will," Bebe says.

"We'll see," Craig mutters under his breath.

"This is Craig Tucker," Bebe adds, finally introducing him. "Craig, this is Dr. Keyes."

Dr. Keyes gives him a lazy smile and a peace sign. "I'll see you later, Bebe."

Bebe takes the hint and stands. "I'll see you both later," she tells both the specialist and Craig. She then leaves the room, leaving the two of them alone.

The specialist gestures for Craig to sit down. "Alright, I'm going to skip the boring 'tell me your life story' stuff and just ask for this..." she says calmly. She looks at him seriously. "Have there been any major changes lately? And note, lately here means in the past couple of years."

"No," he says flatly. "Things are the same."

"And before that?" she pries.

Craig shrugs. "Everyone tells me I was a happy kid. I don't really remember any of that. Maybe I just hid it well."

"And you've stopped hiding it?"

"Yeah," he says. "Seems pointless to hide it since everyone already knows I'm a piece of shit. I sleep around with gross old men or guys who are taken. I drink too much. I'm manipulative."

"You seem mindful of all these things," she points out.

"I am," he says. "I'm completely aware, yet when a bad mood strikes it's like I forget and reason is lost to the wind. I snap and lose my shit. I blow up at whoever is around and then I feel better, but then I feel guilty for being an asshole."

Dr. Keyes is silent for a moment before she straightens up a bit. "You were dating someone before all this started, weren't you?" she asks quietly. There's a sadness to her eyes as she asks this. "What happened there...?"

Craig grits his teeth. "I cheated. He dumped me. The end."

"How long were you together?"

"Three years," I say with a shrug. "He dealt with a lot of my bullshit and baggage, but I guess cheating on him rocked the boat too hard. Um… he literally caught me in the act, so I couldn't even bother denying it."

Yeah, I was a little bit drunk, but I was down for it. We both were – me and whoever the hell I let into my pants. I don't even remember his fucking name.

The woman turns away from the camera and calls out to her assistant to bring her a strawberry soda before turning back to face the camera. "Were you unhappy in your relationship? Was something going on that was bothering you? Something you couldn't discuss with your boyfriend or did discuss with him and it only made it worse or strained the relationship?" Her assistant enters the room and brings her the soda and opens it for her with practiced ease. The woman thanks him and sips some on the soda. "Or did you feel like there was nothing there for you in the relationship?"

Craig rolls his eyes at the plethora of questions. "No. I liked him. Loved him, even. I was happy being with him, but I was unhappy in other parts of my life and I guess that's what it came down to. I was unhappy and being in a relationship wasn't going to fix that. I just ended up stressed out and I felt like I couldn't commit."

"Why's that?"

He shrugs. "I don't fucking know."

"If you struggle with your moods, it's possible you might be struggling with a mood disorder," she brings up. "If mood disorders go untreated, they can certainly get worse."

Craig doesn't like the sound of that.

Plus, he doesn't feel like he's mentally ill. He feels fine. Just angry. And sad. And some other stuff.

"I know what you're thinking. You think that you're fine, that what I said is total bullshit. Believe me, I thought that before myself," Dr. Keyes says. She grabs a bottle off screen and shows it to me. "I'm a hypertensive Asperger with bipolar depressive disorder. I didn't think anything was wrong with me until I started to get depressed more and more often, often to the point of suicide." She puts away the bottle and runs a hand through her hair. "If I had to make a guess about you, I feel that you suffer from depression. It's treatable with medication."

Craig crosses his arms, feeling contemplative.

"Okay," he says. "Then write me a prescription and I'll be on my way."

"I'd like to meet with you again," she starts.

"No," Craig says flatly. "Absolutely not."

"Well, either way, we're still not done with you yet," she decides. "Diagnosing depression is no game. I'm going to ask you some more questions and then I want you to get a blood test done."

"Fine," he bites out.

"This is invasive," she continues, "but how is your libido?"

"I'm really horny," Craig says, "and I know that people with depression often tend to lose their sex drive."

The woman starts to laugh like he had just told her a joke. "Sweetie, I was hella horny and depressed at the same time. Saying that depressed people have low sex drives isn't always the case." She shakes her head with a low laugh. "Besides, you're a teenager. Your libido is going to be higher anyways."

After a series of other questions, Dr. Keyes begins to wrap things up by explaining the diagnosis criteria in the DSM.

"So, with all that out of the way, I still want you to get a blood test."

"Fine," he murmurs, feeling drained and sour.

With that, the woman cuts the connection. After a few minutes, his sister comes up to tell him dinner is ready if he's ready to come down and be civil. "It's macaroni and cheese with corn, green beans, and corn bread with lemon pepper chicken," she says through the door.

"Not hungry," Craig says, closing his laptop.

"Come EAT!" Ruby demands, loud and whiny.

Craig closes his eyes for a minute. He debates crawling back to that old fart from earlier and putting on a show… but he decides against it. He's not really in the mood anymore.

So, he gets up and opens his door. "Fine," he says decidedly.

"And put on a shirt," snorts the girl at the sight of her brother. She takes his hand and squeezes it some before moving to go downstairs, letting him go. "I'll go tell mom to make a set for you. And please don't piss dad off, okay?"

"Seeing my damn face pisses him off," Craig mumbles.

"No, it's mostly just the fact that you spend most of your time loosening your butthole," she says crudely. "He wants more for you, yah know."

Craig's jaw drops at his sister. "Don't be a bitch."

"Then don't be a whore," she retorts with a little snicker before wandering downstairs.

Shaking his head, Craig quickly grabs his shirt, tossing it on as he goes downstairs to join his family. When he gets into the kitchen, his father's face seems to sour and his mother's looks a little hopeful. Eating with his family has never been easy. Especially ever since he broke up with Tweek. It's only gotten harder and harder to eat around them. Tonight is no different. Craig barely gets two bites down when his father starts to give him dirty looks.

"What?" he asks somewhat uncomfortably. He's trying hard not to sound snappy and instead he just sounds kind of flat.

"Craig…" Laura warns her son nonetheless.

Ruby eyes everyone, wondering if drama is about to unfold.

His father doesn't say anything. He looks back to his plate, takes a few more decent bites, then says, "You have a look your eye. I haven't seen it in years..."

"A look?" Craig asks, wondering what he could be talking about.

His father nods. "Of hope."

Craig feels sheepish, not really sure of how to respond. He nods back and that's that.

The rest of the dinner is eaten in silence and Craig can't help but wonder if things will get better from here on, or if things will need to get worse before they get better.

Craig spends the night typing up Tweek's notes and around 9PM, he finally gets around to masturbating. This time, however, he doesn't touch his laptop. He sits on his bed and stares at himself in the mirror, thinking about all his past fucks – the good, the bad, the ugly.

But none of that seems to really get him riled up. Nothing is making him really horny... Nothing except for the passing image of Tweek. The sound of his hushed whisper for Craig to take him, to pull him close and just make love to him.

Making love. What a joke. Sex is sex, and that is that. It's raw and mechanical and serves hardly any purpose, depending on who is involved.

Craig lets out a shuddery moan, cumming in his hand a mere few minutes later.

Yeah, that did the trick.

In the morning, Craig doesn't bother changing. He calls the clinic and sets up an appointment to get a blood test and then he goes to school in his sweatpants, not bothering to put a pair of underpants on first. He pulls a sweater on over his t-shirt and grabs his coat, slipping into his boots. Bag in hand, he runs to catch the bus.

Thankfully, he catches it just before the doors are fully closed. As he gets on, he finds himself searching for a seat. The only spots that are open are with Bebe and Tweek. But with who should he seat himself with? Bebe would more than likely ask him about his session with Dr. Keyes whereas Tweek would ask him about the project...

Hmm... Chick who set him up with a crazy lady or guy he fantasized about last night and jerked off to...?

Guy he jerked off to.

"Hey," Tweek says. "Did you type up what I asked you to type up?"

"All done," Craig tells him. "It's in my bag."

He offers me a somewhat flat looking smile and says, "Okay, good to hear."

Then it's quiet – just the roaring of the bus tires as they ride to the high school.

Which is fine. Craig would rather have that over being forced into small talk. He reaches for his iPod in his pocket only to find that he left it at home. Oh well. It doesn't matter. The sound of mindless chatter around him is enough to keep his mind busy.

Soon enough, they pull into the parking lot of the school and we all pile out and into the building. He heads to his locker and grab his shit before heading to class.

Today, he has art first. It's his elective course and it's pretty easy. It's a bird course and that's why he took it. Second is English and we all pair up again, working on orals.

Tweek is looking over what Craig had typed up last night. He finds himself studying the way his eyes flicker from line to line, the gentle crease in his brow as he focuses on what he wrote, and the tight, firm line of his lips. Craig don't know why he's studying him, but he is. Maybe it has to do with last night...?

"It's fine, right?" Craig asks him.

He nods his head. "Yeah, it's good," he responds. "I guess we should start doing our research now, huh?" He grabs his laptop from his bag and starts scribbling notes over my typed paper. "You'll have to type this up again," he adds. "Maybe in a PowerPoint."

"That's fine," Craig says.

"Once we're all done, we'll divide the speech," he continues. "I'll present half and you'll present half."

The black haired male nods his head. It sounds like a solid plan.

Craig asks him what he wants him to look up and he gives a small list. The rest of the class period is consumed with the boys doing nothing but research.

When class is over and Craig about to leave, Tweek stops him –

"Wanna get together after school?"

"What?" Craig asks.

"For the project," he specifies. "We can go to the library or something."

"The school library is always too packed," Craig points out, "and the public library is far. Let's just go to my house."

"All right," he agrees somewhat unsurely.

When school is out, Tweek meets me at my locker and the boys bus to Craig's house.

When Laura and Thomas see Tweek with their son, they aren't sure what to say. Craig doesn't want them to get the wrong idea, so he says, "We have a class project together in English and we need to work on it. The presentation is in a few days."

They seem to relax at that. Before they can get upstairs, though, Laura stops her son. "The clinic called to confirm your appointment next week. A blood test?"

"To see if there's anything wrong…" Craig specifies.

Without warning, Laura hugs him tightly. "Thank you... For trying to get help." She then let's him go, smiling at him in the way she used to.

Craig feels as though his chest is just the littlest bit lighter.

Tweek glances at him, but he says nothing. They head upstairs and then he finally decides to pry with, "What was that?"

"I, uh…" Craig pauses, rolling his eyes at himself. "I did some sort of therapy thing… to kind of try to get some help or whatever… for my moods…"

Tweek softens at that, smiling. "Finally, huh?"

"Yeah, finally," Craig repeats, snorting. He pauses and wrinkles his nose. "I know I've never said it before… but I AM sorry…"

"I know, Craig," Tweek whispers.

Craig looks at Tweek for a moment before sighing. "I'm serious. I'm not just saying it to make you feel better or anything. I... I'm really sorry..." he whispers, not looking the male in the eye. He feels he doesn't deserve to look the one person who cared about him in the eye.

"I know," Tweek says again. "I know you were sorry as soon as I saw that guy pile driving you. Our eyes kind of connected and I saw immediate guilt, shame…"

Craig winces, feeling the guilt and shame all over again as the memory resurfaces against his will.

"I guess I've always wondered why you did it," Tweek continues. "I never really asked. I just kind of dumped you without listening to your reason."

"I have no reason," Craig says simply. "I was just overwhelmed with everything and I decided to act out."

Tweek nods his head contemplatively.

Craig sits on his bed and sighs. "If there was ever anything I could go back and change, it would be that night..." he whispers to himself, closing his eyes as he lays back against his pillows. He feels that if he could change that single night, life would have been so much better over the past two years.

Tweek touches his shoulder, rubbing his arm gently, soothingly.

"I think about it a lot…" Craig adds thoughtfully. "It bothers me a lot more than I let on. I kind of pretend I don't care, y'know? It's easier to pretend that's the kind of guy I am since everyone thinks it anyone. I prove them right every time I act out."

It was a bad night – one of Craig's worst. He was drunk, stumbling around the party. He ended up running into a guy a couple years older. They talked and one thing led to another. Meanwhile, Tweek was looking for him. When he found Craig, he was greeted with an unsavoury sight.

"Why not prove them wrong?" Tweek asks. "wouldn't that be a lot more satisfying?"

"It's harder," Craig murmurs.

"Worth it, though," the blond insists.

"Is it? I can't be redeemed anyways, so why does it matter?" Craig whispers, closing his eyes and turning his head away. "I've already ruined my life... I screwed up with the one person who made me actually smile for a change in my pathetic life, I'm such a slut, I can't sleep half the time without drinking myself stupid, and the only way I feel alive is if I hurt myself..." He shudders. "Nobody REALLY cares. If it benefits them, then they pretend to care. If they think that they can get anything from me in any way, then they'll try to help me. Nothing is ever free. Everything has strings attached..." His depression is talking and it's obvious to Tweek. Craig still doesn't hear it himself.

"Okay, sit up," Tweek says, forcing Craig up by the shoulders. "Look, I know what you're dealing with is pretty serious and I'm not trying to say it can be fixed magically, but why don't you try some healthy distractions for a change?"

"Like what?" Craig asks.

"Read, write, draw, watch a movie you like," he starts, shrugging. "In other words… don't go out and get drunk and let the first person you meet sleep with you. If you feel like being around people, surround yourself with people who care for you."

Craig shakes his head. "Nobody cares about me," he says calmly. "The one person who did is sitting here trying to get me to be who I'm not... I can't just do a whole personality flip."

Tweek lets out a sharp sigh. "Stop with the pity party. I know you're hurting and whatever, but don't drag me into this. Don't make me feel guilty. You're the one who fucked up and you did it by fucking someone else."

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. I'm telling you the truth as I see it," grumbles Craig, shrugging Tweek off and laying back down. He closes his eyes and sighs heavily. "Can you get me a glass of water...?"

Tweek lets out a breath and then says, "Fine, one second."

He leaves the room, fetching Craig a glass of water. When he returns, he holds it out. Craig perches himself up on an elbow and grabs the cup, taking a sip.

"You seem kinda needy," Tweek admits.

Craig eyes him, sneering at the comment. "I'm not needy at all."

"I think you are a little bit," the blond argues, "and it's probably because you're a little deprived of affection. Maybe that's another reason why you sleep around."

"I am not needy," Craig snaps, his knuckles turning white as he clenches the glass before slamming it into his nightstand. He places a hand over his face and forces himself to breathe, shaking some. He grabs a bottle of genetic painkillers and pops open the cap, shaking out a few before downing them, not counting how many he has just ingested.

Tweek eyes him. "That's not healthy. You're not supposed to take pills like candy."

"Bite me," Craig mutters back. "You're giving me a damn migraine."

"Talk," Tweek challenges. "I'll listen."

"I thought I WAS talking," the black-haired teen retorts.

"Well, keep going," Tweek urges.

Craig doesn't think that there's anything he wants to talk about, but he thinks on it for a minute. He then sighs heavily. "I don't know what to talk about..."

Tweek shrugs. "Talk about whatever you want."

Craig lets out a breath. "Everyone thinks I'm depressed," he starts, "but it's more than that… I mean, it feels like it's more than that. I know I'm sad and shit, but it doesn't feel like depression because there's a lot of other shit, too…" He tries his best to explain how he feels, but he doesn't know how to get his point across.

"How?" Tweek pries.

"Like… I honestly feel like I'm losing my mind half the time," Craig says with a shuddery laugh. "I either feel too depressed to move or I act up."

Tweek looks contemplative. "Maybe you have manic episodes…? Maybe you have borderline tendencies? It could be a lot of things…"

"I don't know," Craig's sighs. He looks up some at Tweek. "But I do know that it's hell going through it alone..." He looks back along his bed, lightly fisting the blanket, curling and uncurling his fingers. "I guess maybe it is that I'm lacking affection...?"

"So, is that why you sleep around?" Tweek asks.

Craig snorts. "Probably one of the reasons, yeah…" he relents.

"You're lonely," the blond adds. It isn't a question, but a simple observation.

"My own fault though," Craig mutters. "I push people away."

Tweek is silent for a moment before he places his hand over Craig's own. "Then try to socialize. You used to do it all the time. If it's just your reputation that's keeping you alone, then just ignore it and hope you'll find someone who won't care about it either."

Craig scoffs. "Whatever… I don't want to talk about this shit anymore. It's making me even more depressed."

"Should we get to work then?" Tweek offers.

And they do.

Craig's appointment goes by and he eyes the little bandage on the crook of his elbow where he had his blood taken.

Days later, it is confirmed. The fact of it all makes him even more depressed.

He lies in his bed staring up at his ceiling.

"Right now, I'm depressed," he says aloud, trying to force himself to come to terms with the fact. He didn't really believe the doctor, but a blood test wouldn't lie, right? Now it's a lot harder to deny and push aside.

When he asked his specialist about it, she merely smiled and told him that she took a while to look at his case and deduced that he has bipolar disorder and he's stuck in a depressive episode. His medication will even things out.

He's been taking his pills every day as prescribed and he's noticed that his moods begin to simmer.

The project he's doing with Tweek is nearly finished. Craig has started to type up the notes that Tweek wrote the other day, wanting to finish up.

Later on, Tweek makes his way to the Tucker residence again. Craig notices that Tweek isn't as talkative as usual and frowns. "Is something wrong?" he asks him, tilting his head some to the side. The two have been getting along more and more throughout the course of the project, and the blond boy's silence is actually worrying him.

Tweek shakes his head. "Just thinking a little bit."

"About what?" Craig pries.

"Us," he admits.

Craig feels his guts twist around in his stomach – a faint, fluttery feeling behind his anxiety. "Us?" he repeats in question.

"Um…" Tweek pauses, contemplative. "What would you think about me giving you a second chance?"

"Just like that?" Craig asks, surprised.

"Well, no," Tweek counters. "It's the fact that I can tell you're actually trying to better yourself. You're getting help. You're… lighter, I guess?"

"Lighter?" Craig asks in amusement. His smile falls some. "I would like it, really I would... But what if I screw things up again...? What if I act out and do something that will break us up again?" This isn't depression talking. It is a genuine concern that he has about the idea of being with Tweek again.

Tweek lays his hand on top of his own, gently squeezing it. "I don't think you'll make the same mistake twice... Especially now..." he tells him softly, with a confidence that Craig doesn't feel himself. "Besides, this time, we'll go slow. Get used to being together again, you know?" He offers him a small smile. "See how it goes before making anything solid... I'm up for it if you are."

Craig stops himself from asking just how slow he means… because sex is something Craig desires and he can't deny that fact.

Instead, he simply forces a smile and says, "All right. I'm up for it."

"Wanna seal the deal?" Tweek asks lightly, cracking a silly smile in return.

Craig simply leans forward, pushing his lips against Tweek's and parting them almost immediately – allowing the blond to explore every inch of his mouth. It feels pleasantly familiar.

Tweek feels a slight twisting in his abdomen as he pushes his tongue into Craig's mouth. Oh, it's been much too long since he's tasted the noirette, and it pains him that they had been apart so long. He pulls away before the kiss can get too heated, smiling some with a slight blush dusting his cheeks. "It's a deal, I'm guessing..."

All that kissing went straight to Craig's groin, but he tries to tame himself. He doesn't want to mess things up by rushing it.

So, they get back to work.

Craig rolls over in bed, staring at his alarm clock. 7:54AM.

He moans aloud, trying to fight the urge to close his eyes again. He hates mornings. He's never been a morning person and he doubts that will change.

After a few minutes of stillness, it's 8AM and his alarm starts going off. It's his least favourite sound. He slams a hand over it, turning off the dreadful siren before forcing himself up and out of bed.

Time for school.

He doesn't bother changing, per usual. He just goes to catch the bus in his PJs. The bus is crowded. Craig grabs the first empty seat he sees, which happens to be next to Butters.

Great.

"Hiya, Craig!" he greets.

"Yeah, hi," Craig responds carelessly.

"It's a fine morning, don't ha think?" Butters presses on, a small smile on his lips.

Craig is about to snap back that he hates mornings when he remembers that Tweek had encouraged him to socialize, even if only a little. Snapping at the one person who is nice to every person alive is not the way to be accepted again. Grumbling, the male says, "Yeah, I guess."

"You know what I never understood? Why school starts at nine for us when a friend of mine over in another state says that his school starts at eight. He has to wake up at six and everything!" Butters rambles, looking as though he has just spoken the first thing that came to mind.

Craig cringes at the idea of waking up two hours earlier. He loves his sleep, after all. "It's just a different school system. Some schools start at eight, some start at nine. It depends on the area you live in," he tells Butters.

"R-really? Huh. I guess I never really thought about that..." muses the blond, looking up in thought. "I'll tell my friend that tonight when we Skype!" He then looks back to Craig. "So, how is your project with Tweek going? Nothing is awkward between you two, right?"

Right then, Craig wants to punch Butters. Instead, he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs heavily. "No, nothing is awkward between us," he says calmly.

Butters lacks tact. He's always been that way. So, Craig forces himself to forgive and forget just this once… not that it would matter. Everyone tends to treat Butters poorly – especially kids like Eric Cartman.

Well, Craig doesn't want to put himself into the same box as that fat bastard.

"Oh. Sorry, Craig, I just thought that maybe there was some awkwardness, given how you two had dated and all..." Butters says softly. He then smiles. "I'm happy to know that there isn't any though, so that's good!"

Craig rolls his eyes and then simply responds with, "Yeah."

"What's your project about?"

"Christian science," Craig says, not bothering to explain since he doesn't fully get what it's all about.

"Me and Eric are doing parallels in the lives of Mary, Colin and Dickon," Butters responds.

"Cool," the black-haired teen says.

It is all Greek to Craig, anyways. He never really did read the book all the way through. It was more of a cursory glance, if he is to be honest. Vague answers helped, though, in making everyone think that he did read it.

"Has Cartman come out to you yet?" Craig asks out of curiosity. It would be a long time coming, after all.

"Huh?" Butters questions naively. "What do you mean by that?"

Craig rolls his eyes again, snorting back a laugh. "Never mind…"

"Tell me!" Butters urges with curiosity.

"Has Cartman asked you out?" Craig asks bluntly. It's no secret that Cartman is gay, though he isn't open about it. And Butters, well... He is bi-curious as far as the black haired male knows.

Butters stares at Craig with parted lips and a stupid expression. "No…?!"

"Well, he's obviously into you," Craig mutters, crossing his arms and staring ahead, slumped in his seat. "It's fuckin' obvious, even to me. That's why he's such a dick."

"Well…" Butters pauses. "He'll say it when he's ready."

Humble words.

"Guess so," Craig agrees.

Butters looks a little lighter, smiling a bit to himself. He looks like a weight has been lifted off of his chest, and Craig can't help but feel like he's the cause of it. After all, he just told him that someone was interested in him.

When the bus pulls into the school, everyone piles out and heads towards their lockers.

Craig grabs his things. He feels the strong urge to skip class, but he decides against it. He's on a bad streak, so if he misses much more he might face suspension. Then his parents would really rip into him.

Craig is about to go to his first class when Tweek runs up to him, grabbing the fabric of his shirt. The male is surprised, but there's a small smile forming on his lips at the sight of him. "Hey... What's up?"

Tweek smiles a little nervously and rubs his throat some. "My throat is a bit sore..." he says in a raspy voice. "Can you handle the oral presentation...?"

Craig's jaw drops. He absolutely HATES oral presentations! They make him nervous and it's even worse when he has to do them alone.

Of COURSE this had to happen!

"Um…" he starts, frowning.

"Please?" Tweek whispers, voice crackling.

At the sound of the crack in the blond's voice, Craig knows that he has to do the right thing here, especially if he wants to make the boy happy. "Alright..." he tells him. "But if I stutter, you know why..."

Tweek looks relieved. "Thank you," he rasps before hugging him briefly. He whispers his goodbyes before leaving for his first period class.

"Damn it," Craig mutters to himself, feeling nervous as hell. He's not a particularly nervous person and speaking in front of crowds never used to bother him, but that changed as he got older. Now he worries about people judging him. He pretends that nothing bothers him, but it's a façade. A lot of things bother Craig and being judged is high on that list.

As his first period goes by minute by agonizing minute, Craig is unable to focus, jittery and nervous as Hell. With every second that passes, he finds himself more and more nervous about his English class. What if he messes up? What if he drops everything and can't put it back in the right order?

He lets out a breath, somewhat bitter that Tweek had to lose his voice NOW – of all times!

English is last today.

For Craig, it comes slow. He volunteers to go first, since he just wants to get the damn thing over with.

Of course, the teacher isn't so eager to let him go first. He had been seconds late and the teacher has it out for him. So, he is forced to go last. As if Craig's nerves weren't fried enough. Once it finally - FINALLY - reached their turn, Craig goes up to the podium, swallowing some.

Craig is incredibly sour at this point. Him and Tweek rise and Tweek inserts a USB into the computer, setting their PowerPoint up on the projection.

"Uh…" Craig starts, trying to calm himself down. "Tweek lost his voice, so he's going to click the slides and I'll do the talking."

"That's fine," the teacher says. "Continue."

Craig sighs and does so. "We're doing our presentation on Christian Science, which is a theme that's present throughout most of the, uh, book…"

He goes slow, taking his time to talk out the points. He feels tense as he speaks, trying to speak loudly and clearly and just slow enough to make it sound like he isn't a raving lunatic. As he gets halfway through it, he feels his nerves finally get the better of him and he stops reading all at once.

"Craig, is something wrong?" Tweek rasps, frowning some at the male. He can see how nervous he is and he feels a bit bad for having the boy do the presentation when it's obvious that he's nervous as Hell.

"I... I..." Craig whispers. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He opens them again to see Bebe smiling at him, gesturing for him to continue, encouraging him. He suddenly feels a courage that he hasn't felt in years. Swallowing, he looks over at Tweek and says, loud and proud, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a screw up. I'm sorry that I wasn't as good as I should have been. I'm sorry that I acted out and I'm sorry that I didn't try to make it right until now... And I'm sorry for not always telling you that I love you. I loved you then and I still love you now... I'm sorry."

It's quiet.

Tweek doesn't say anything for a moment. He simply softens, smiling at the brunet from where he's seated in front of the computer. "I know all that, Craig," he finally speaks, his voice sounding rough. "I love you, too."

So, they get a C.

It's not as bad as Craig thought, but it isn't great, either.

What's worse, is Craig's own throat begins feeling sore, too. He probably caught it from the blond… Oh, well. To Craig, it's all worth it.

"Sorry it wasn't the A you wanted," Craig murmurs as they arrive back at Craig's house.

Tweek shrugs as they head up to Craig's room. "It's okay. It doesn't seem as important anymore. I can always make up for it later." His voice still sounds very rough.

Craig smiles a little at that. With as smart as Tweek is, it isn't so hard to believe that he's being honest. "I didn't embarrass you with that little speech thing I did, did I?" he asks softly, taking his hand in his own.

"Of course not," Tweek insists. "I thought it was sweet. You looked so cute and shy up there in front of everyone."

Craig rolls his eyes at being called cute. Of course, his smile is only getting bigger. "Shut up and kiss me before my parents come barging in thinking I'm fucking you," he says a bit crudely, kissing Tweek lovingly on the lips. He pulls him on top of him, relaxing in his submissive position.

Tweek snickers at that, leaning down and pushing their lips together once more. "I missed this," the blond says once they part. "I missed seeing you, well, like this."

"Under you?" Craig chuckles.

Tweek smiles lewdly. "Yeah, under me."

"Well, you'll be seeing it a lot. Hopefully, for a very, very long time," muses Craig before pulling Tweek down for a hot and sloppy kiss, having missed the intimacy so much. He planned to never let Tweek go again.

He contemplates on letting Tweek take him then and there because he wants it so bad.

"Your dad is home," Tweek points out hoarsely, almost reading Craig's naughty thoughts. "He'd kill me if he caught me pile driving his son."

Craig snorts at that, though he can't deny that it's true.

"You still know me a bit too well," Craig tells him with a smile. He hears his dad coming up the stairs and has Tweek get off for a minute, sitting up with him. When his dad enters, they look as though they have only been talking instead of making out, but Thomas seems to know – like parents typically do.

The man looks at the two of them before sighing heavily. "I can't believe that I'm going to say this but... I'm going to the store to grab some things for dinner. Ruby is with her friend Karen and your mom is at work. So, I'm trusting the two of you to behave. Understand?"

Craig tries to hide how overwhelmingly overjoyed he feels at his father's words. Talk about convenient! "Yeah, dad, we get it," he informs him.

With that, his dad heads out.

When they hear the door shut, they don't hesitate to get straight down to business.

"I thought you wanted to take it slow?" Craig recalls.

"Fuck it," Tweek responds. "We've done this before. I wanna do it again."

Craig laughs as he pulls off his shirt. "Good, 'cause right now I'm horny as fuck and I don't just want sex for once. I want love."

Fin.