Dont blame me. i just write. o?o

It was so cold. I should have brought more blankets.

But that wouldn't have been… manly? I don't know. I'm not much of a man now, shivering my ass off.

My bag is kind of flimsy. Not much stuffing in it.

But it used to be my dad's and he wanted me to take it on this stupid little camping trip that we'd gone on.

Who came up with this shit anyway? God, I hang out with some real idiots.

I start twitching again, partly because of the cold, and partly because I'm so fucking nervous.

I hope I don't wake Craig up.

Damn it, stop twitching! Gah!

I'm like a fucking vibrator now. Back away ladies. Heh, heh.

The tent is pitching wildly with the wind, I was afraid that it would just completely blow off. But me and Craig were weighing it down. Or at least Craig was. Before he'd fallen asleep, he'd joked that I shouldn't step outside or I'd get carried away.

I didn't want to get carried away. Where would I get blown to?

If I landed somewhere hard, my bones would break. I'm not exactly that strong. In fact, I am probably the skinniest guy I know. Right up there with Kenny and Butters, who are sharing a tent right next to mine and Craig's, and Kyle on Exam week, who's bunking with Stan.

I throw up on a regular basis. Not because I'm anorexic, it's just I get so fucked up sometimes, I can't keep my shit together long enough to digest. But I take vitamins, so fuck it, bring on the heaves.

God, it's so cold. And now I need to pee. Jesus.

Where was the restroom again?

Maybe I'll go when the wind lets up. Fuck. It's so damn cold.

Cold, cold, cold. Shivering like a maniac.

Suddenly Craig is up, jerking me around to face him.

"Damn, Tweek, I can't sleep with you shaking like a fucking rat over there. What the fuck, man, why'd you bring that raggedy-ass piece of shit anyway?"

"D-don't blame me dude, my dad was all sentimental and shit, s-something about passing on family crap o-or w-w-whatever."

Damn, I thought he was asleep.

He's quiet for a moment, just looking at me in the dark. His head comes so close to the tossing tarp, it's practically slapping him in the face. How can he be so tall just sitting up? Jesus.

I'm twitching again under his scrutiny.

Fuck. He makes me so nervous. Why can't he just go back to sleep?

I shouldn't have taken this tent with him. I should have tried to squeeze in with one of the other guys, but everybody just naturally divided, Stan with Kyle, Kenny with Butters, me with Craig, and Cartman in his own personal fucking fortress.

It would have looked weird if I'd tried to go with the other guys. Then it would have been plainly, painfully obvious.

I liked Craig. And not just like a friend, as I'd spent half the past three months convincing myself that it was. Well, that is, three months about two days ago.

Weird how I remember the exact moment when I figured out that thinking about your best friend naked wasn't friggin' normal. Normal in the sense that would have been clear had I actually been normal.

But we all know I'm a freakin' nut case who should be handcuffed and kept in my room for my own protection. But I'm no good with confinement.

I go crazy in closed spaces. Which is why I have half of the little window on my side sort of halfway unzipped. So I know that there's a sky above me and the ground below. Little assurances that help me keep my shit together.

But I find that with Craig staring down at me like that, It doesn't really matter if the window's slightly open or not.

My fingers are twitching and I try and hide them in my hair. Not hard. It's a shaggy mess of yellow strands, like fucking bile-looking crap that I wish I'd never been born with.

Fuck! What is he thinking?

Finally, a reaction. A sigh. Not too bad.

Then he reaches over again and yanks at the zipper that's holding me in, which is halfway undone too, because I thought if felt like a body bag when I put it on. Bugged me out, like, bad.

Still I go, "Gah! What are you doing?!"

"What's it look like I'm doing?"

"Why the fuck would I be asking, if I knew?"

"Shut the hell up, Tweek." I comply. Not hard either. My jaws are chattering.

He gets out of his own (body) bag and unzips it too. Then he fiddles with the zipper on mine trying to get it too attach to his.

Ah, now I get it.

And it fucks me up. I'm all jittery. Being in such close proximity to the object of my affections? Shit. What am I going to do?

I stare at his back as he works, admiring the liquid fluidness in which his muscles ripple beneath his shirt. I want to run my hands over that expanse and feel his body move beneath them.

Then I think, Gah! What if I get hard?

Hell, not gonna happen, dude, some other part of my brain thinks. I still need to pee. Can't be easy to get hard with a full bladder aching to be relieved. Damn, I really need to go. I blow into my hands.

"Fuck."

"What?" goes Craig. "If you don't want to, I can just let you freeze your skinny ass off – "

"N-no, not that," I say, unnerved that he made a reference to my ass, however slight and insignificant.

"I gotta go take a piss," I bite my lip and scramble to the door flap. Before I unzip it, I turn and say jokingly, "If I don't come back, know this… I… lived a good life."

I meant to say, 'I love you', but I guess even as a joke, it freaked me out. It would be too much like actually saying it. And what if he got the hidden meaning? Even though nobody in their right minds would think to take it that way when I was so obviously joking… right?

He snorts. "Whatever dude, just don't go all gone with the wind on me. I don't want to have to get you out of a tree in the morning."

I unzip the thing and step out. "What, you wouldn't go looking for me if I didn't come back?"

Another snort. Craig, the man of few words but various forms of grunts and clicks.

I step out, just a little and zip the door back up. I'm so close to the tent, I'm practically a fucking patch.

I should have brought a fucking jacket or something. But I'm to chicken shit to go back in there. I uncurl myself and step away.

Immediately, I'm tumbling over myself to keep upright. The wind is so strong, I'm freaking being carried, like piglet in that Winnie the Pooh movie, skidding across the ground. I get caught in the trees around our little clearing, snagging a branch.

Alright that's as far as I'm going, I think. Like hell I was going to go look for that crappy looking restroom facility that the camp guy pointed out. It was made out of sticks-n'-stones, man. And I have a dick don't I...? Heh. Don't I...? Wait, don't answer that.

I look back. I'm assaulted by the wind, pressed roughly against the tree, like a rape victim.

The four tents stand, shivering. I can't tell which is mine; they all look alike, except for Cartman's.

Crap.

I fiddle with my pants, one skinny arm clinging to the tree. A quick piss, then I stuff myself back in.

Then I start my fight back to my tent. I'm like, full tilt, almost parallel to the ground, clinging to the fucking grass.

I reach the first tent. I don't know if it's mine. The wind is roaring.

I decide to chance it. I undo the zipper and stick half my body inside.

… No… definitely not my tent…

Stan and Kyle are wrapped around each other, a tangled mess. But they actually look so sweet together. I don't know if they planned it this way, but they're all over each other, foreheads meeting, breathing the same air.

For a while I just look at them. I'm sort of jealous. Why did they just naturally gravitate toward each other, naturally love each other, and naturally seek each other's comfort in the cold when I'm over here… struggling.

I zip the tent back up. One down.

Army crawling now.

This time I undo the thing only enough to stick my head in, and, fuck do I get a shock.

Not only are Butters and Kenny meshed together, they're meshing together.

Eyes. Are. Glued.

Their bodies move in sync, and I can barely hear the SFX over the roaring wind.

I can't discern one from the other, not in this lighting anyway. Now if I had a flashlight…

Gah! What am I doing?

I pop my head back out and do a whole-body twitch.

I don't bother doing up the opening. It's not like they're lacking for warmth. And it'll be murder trying to explain why I was peeping around my twitching, shaking and stuttering if they caught me…. If they caught me… no, don't even think about it.

That left just one.

I stumbled over to it, reaching for the zipper.

Just then, the wind shifted, and I went skidding, my knees scrapping against the dirt.

Damn, I need to gain a big of weight. My shirt caught in the wind and it nearly blew off of me. I tried to catch it just before it came off my arm.

Nope. Gone forever. And it was my favorite shirt too, ever since fifth grade. Stan said it was crazy how I still fit into those shirts, but whatever, you don't throw out something that still wears okay.

I scrambled to the door and unzipped it hastily before the wind could plan another attack. I threw myself inside and landed on someone.

"Jeez, Tweek!"

"Gah! Sorry Craig!"

I push myself up, trying to figure out where I am. Then I realize, with sudden clarity, that I'm straddling my crush-boy, and his movements cease for a moment, and it seems he's realized this too.

I think I'm sitting on his stomach, and I can feel the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, unencumbered by my weight.

For a moment, just a moment, I think about reaching down into the darkness and stoking his face. It's just a fleeting moment that I think about sifting my fingers in his hair, and sliding my hands over his chest.

Then my mind goes all spazzy, and I scuttle off of him, backwards, crab-style.

No time to think about the wonderful little sensations that gives me (an unwelcome flash of Butters and Kenny meshing), I feel the wind blow harshly against my unprotected flesh, and my hairs rise and my nipples turn into ice-picks.

Seriously, if you threw me into a wall, I would just fuckin' stick.

I turn fully to the door, and use all my strength to pull the zipper over the gap as slow as I can without making it seem like I'm actually trying to make it go slower.

I use the scant time I have to calmly tell myself not to make a big deal out of this. Sure, me and Craig will be sleeping in the same bag, but it wasn't like we'd be cuddling like Stan and Kyle, or fucking like Kenny and Butters.

I wasn't ready for that last one but the first sounded painfully good. A sharp aching hit my chest and I knew it for what it was: need.

I wanted Craig to hold me like Stan was holding Kyle.

But Craig wasn't like Stan. Stan was the sweetest kind of guy. He would smile a self-conscious kind of smile then break out in heartfelt laughter a moment later. He'll scoop money out of his wallet to pay for an ice-cream cone for everyone. He'll come to a camping trip when his father is up in D.C. trying to stop some catastrophic anomaly or other. He'll put up with Kyle's bitchy moods when Cartman's been acting like an ass. He'll secretly brush Kyle's curly red tendrils of hair out of his eyes as he drives stakes into the ground. He'll cuddle with Kyle at night because Kyle's so tired of staying up so late and working so hard to please his demanding mother. Dark circles are hard to hide with Kyle's milky skin. We all know the real reason for his coming on this trip.

Still, Craig had his good sides, which were the sides I liked, or I wouldn't be so damn nervous about being so close to him in that damn bag.

He'll stop me when I'm unconsciously mutilating myself. He'll take me along with him when he's going to play with his little brother at the park, even though I'm no good at Foot ball and even Cid (his kid brother) knows it. He'll fling filthy words at the people who make fun of me, and Butters too when Kenny's not around. He'll put up with my griping when I say that I don't need him to help me, I was doing just fine, when we both know I would've been a stain on the earth if it weren't for him.

He doesn't carry me over puddles, like Kenny would for Butters. I won't feed him French Fries like Butters will for Kenny. He won't secretly hold my hand under tables like Stan will for Kyle. I won't lean in too close to just be near him (even though I want to so bad) like Kyle will for Stan.

"Is the zipper stuck or something?"

I jump and try to stifle a surprised, "Gah!"

"N-n-no," I squeak. "It's just…"

I don't finish the sentence. I just close it up, and crawl on all fours to the edge of the sleeping bag.

"Hurry up dude, it's fucking cold."

"Hmm." I go, unsure that if I open my mouth, the crackers I had this afternoon won't come up to meet Craig's pretty face. I shift my weight until I'm in the bag, and for a while my body is grateful for the warmth, then I realize it's Craig's warmth and I tense up.

"Yes… and now the bag closes," Craig says slowly, a little irritated. Of course. He doesn't think of this as anything special. He's just helping out a friend. I'm the weird one. I have to get over this. I have to at least pretend that it doesn't bother me.

So I work on closing the bad, but not too much. I need an escape route. I always need and escape route.

"Good, now go to sleep Tweek, we've got a lot of stuff planned for tomorrow."

And with that, we're sleeping together. Me, scrunched up like a beaten puppie, and Craig, like a normal guy, stretched out, sleepy as hell.

And I'm so disappointed. Disappointed and sad, and almost mad, and terribly insecure.

If this is any indication of how the rest of the trip will be, I might as well hitchhike the 50, 000 miles back to South Park. But I know I won't. I'll be here for every last painful memory. Why? Because Craig is here. And no matter how much I know I can't have him, and he won't ever think of me that way, because he's the straightest guy I know, I just can't bring myself to stop caring enough to leave.

Ah, Shakespeare! If you could only bear witness to this form of modern unrequited love, how would you portray your next play?

Jesus, I'm fucked… or maybe the point is that I wasn't?

My twitchy little lizard brain couldn't process. Sleep finally took over. And as I drifted off, I felt warmer, finally.

What my brain didn't perceive was that the source of the sudden warmth that totally overpowered the hammering cold was an arm draped heavily across my body.

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???omg. my first fanfic. i think it's alright, but i can't figure out if other people will like it. Please review, but don't shatter my self esteem.