A/N: Another chapter fic, because right now, I'm full of caffeine and can't sleep. Just a clarification- every other chapter is Tweek or Craig's point of view, so it goes Chapter 1: Tweek, Chapter 2: Craig, etc., etc., etc. I'm warning you now because I hate those "So-and-so's POV" signs at the top of pages. Hopefully, though, it'll be clear from the content and text whose point of view it is. Happy reading, and please review.

Luna

The Cows are losing again. I don't know why I even come to these things. It's not like they have coffee here. Speaking of coffee, I have to take a piss.

When I get back, my bladder isn't full anymore, but in my veins flows nothing but caffeine, I'm sure of it. Oh god. My knees are weak and shaky. The people all around me are screaming. Oh, god-- what did I do?! I wish they would stop, I'm drowning in their noise. Oh shit. My thermos of coffee's rolling into the bleachers. I need that-!

I pitch forward and I'm falling forever. I'm never going to hit the ground I'll be stuck in this motion forever oh god oh god oh god- Crack. I'm on the field. No, I'm on a person. "Ow! Fuck! My leg!" I hear. His face is screwed up in pain, and I recall the deafening crunch when I hit the ground. Oh god. I've killed him. He's dying, and I'm going to be arrested for murder! I can't go to jail! I'll get ass-raped. Ah! I don't even notice I'm screaming the words out loud until Stan and Kyle are beside me, clutching my arms.

"Dude! Tweek, it's okay, calm down!" Stan's voice is way too loud. I flinch.

"Yeah, Craig's fine! His leg is just broken, is all." Kyle's tone is soothing but his words aren't.

"Just broken?! He'll never walk again!" Craig's going to kill me. I know it.

"Tweek, he's just gonna go to the doctor, and he'll get a cast and his leg will heal, and everything will be fine."

"He's gonna kill me!"

"No he won't," says Kyle. I don't believe him. I need to see Craig and tell him I didn't mean it. I need to make sure he's not going to kill me.

-- Later that day--

Hospitals make me nervous. Everyone's waiting to die here. I jump up and down, just to get my blood pumping and prove that I'm alive. If I don't, they'll cart me down to the morgue, cut me open and take my organs out!

Deep breath. In. Out.

Like the doctor said. Ah! Doctor! I'm gonna die! Craig's gonna kill me! Craig! I have to see Craig and apologize.

"May I help you?" The nurse is raising her eyebrows, and I can tell she's just itching to cut me up and take my organs.

"Ah! No! I mean yes! I need Craig Nommel's room!"

She looks down at her clipboard of Death. What if there's a list of names of people to kill on that thing?! Please, don't write my name, I'm not ready to die... the breath I didn't know I was holding escapes my lungs as she looks up without writing anything. "Room 403. Visiting hours end in half an hour, so you'd better hurry." I'm hurrying.

There's his room. It smells like sick people. Like blood. I take a whiff of the coffee in my thermos.

Deep breath. In. Out.

"Craig!"

He jumps in his bed. "Tweek?"

"I didn't mean to kill you!"

"Tweek, I'm fine. A little pissed that I won't be able to play the rest of the season-"

"Ah!"

"-- But other than that, fine."

"So you're not gonna kill me?" Why does he look so confused?

"What? No! Where'd you get that idea?" I don't know. I gulp down my coffee. Ethiopian Fancy. It's strong. My muscles contract, and the thermos is tumbling out of my hands before I can stop it. Craig's reaching out his hands and then he's holding my coffee. "Damn it." There's coffee splattered on his chest and I shriek in apology. "Tweek- Tweek! Stop shrieking! The other people are resting!"

No they aren't. They're staring at me, all of them, with their IVs and the dark circles under their eyes and their casts and they look like zombies! Ah! Oh, Jesus, they're going to eat my brains! I'm snatching my coffee out of Craig's hands and then I'm gone.