Anxiety: it was like a rat, gnawing away at the nape of my neck as though it were a piece of cheese, sending waves of sheer displeasure down my spine. As with cheese, I felt smaller with every mouthful and more vulnerable. These 'waves' were almost like a shiver, but perhaps the proper term was a twitch or a nervous tick, and it was something that I had become known for amongst my small group of friends. We all had our defining characteristics. There were five of us in total: Clyde, Jimmy, Token, Craig, and me - Tweek Tweak. We had each known each other for many years, having been friends since the fourth grade, and we hung out almost every day. Clyde was the classic lady's man, always dressing to impress in a designer burgundy coat (when he wasn't wearing the high school's varsity sports jacket) and greyish-brown chinos. However, underneath this jock-like persona of sports, girls and fashion, there was something more. I had never really asked him about his health. None of the other guys had either and, in hindsight, I think that's what he liked about us. His colostomy in the fourth grade, which at the time I hadn't the faintest idea about, or the rumours of only having one testicle were never questioned. Despite whatever difficulties he was apparently facing with his health though, it never once affected his strong sense of morality. Out of all of us, he was the one whom you could trust most to do the 'right' thing. Jimmy, meanwhile, was a cripple. On paper, that might sound like a harsh way of putting it, but he owned the term with confidence and never allowed it to stop him doing whatever the hell he wanted. There was also Token, the black kid, although he was anything but an African-American stereotype: wealthy, cultured, and frankly a total 'smart-ass' (as Cartman had so often put it). Then, last but not least, there was Craig...
How do I describe him? After all, he was always the hard-to-read, stoic sort, with a tough outer shell that was prone to flipping people off and a cynical outlook on the world. Underneath that, however, there was the cutesy, soft inside that only I knew as his boyfriend. We'd been together since the fourth grade, back when our peers (and what seemed like the entire town), had conspired to bring us together after seeing some artwork from the Asian girls at school. At first, we were only together to make everyone else happy, but once we got to know each other we soon couldn't stand to be apart. I loved Craig Tucker. I loved his masculine features, from his deep voice to his height; I loved his 'bad boy' exterior and how he would never shy away from a fight; I loved his mesmerising, sea blue eyes. In fact, it was those very eyes I was admiring, as we rode together in the back seat of Token's car towards the mountains which littered the horizon. It was Halloween and we'd decided to go camping. The other guys were excited for an evening of ghost stories and no parents. Craig and I, meanwhile, were just eager to have our own tent, our own private space for our own private things.
By the time we arrived at the outskirts of the woods which surrounded the mountains of South Park and began to unload our tents, it was already around mid-evening. The sun was setting, dimming so that it cast beautiful shades of orange across the countryside landscape, which complimented the autumnal shades of the leaves that we trampled underfoot. It would have been a picturesque scene, if not for the sight of me struggling to unfurl a tent, failing miserably, and then collapsing to the floor in resignation. "Gah! How does anyone do this!? I just can't," I blurted out, twitching subconsciously as always when I was frustrated or anxious. I dropped onto my back, lying in a wet pile of leaves but not caring with my focus being firmly upon setting up the tent, and sighed as I looked up at the dull red sky. What was the saying: 'red sky at night, shepherd's delight' or something? Well, for me, that certainly wasn't proving to be the case! I stood and tried again to set up the tent to no avail. Suddenly, in the midst of my frustration, there came a nudge in the side of my ribs. "What's up, dude?" It was Clyde, of course. He always knew when something was wrong and something most definitely was. For Craig and I, Halloween was a big deal: our anniversary. With Craig out of earshot, I explained this to Clyde. I felt stupid, like some hapless old romantic or one of those pathetic lovestruck pensioners you see on shows such as Catfish. It was just a camping trip, after all - nothing too serious or romantic.
"Why didn't you say so? I can handle your tent, if you want," he offered, forcing a grin, which I returned. Clyde really was a great guy. I gave him a (platonic) hug, said thanks, and darted off to find Craig. The group's resident 'bad boy' wasn't setting up a tent, instead off exploring the woods, and I found him by a lake. The waters looked cold, a thin layer of ice forming around the edges where it met dry land, but they were still and calm. A few leaves had fallen and settled peacefully atop it, whilst off in the distance light cascaded through the wooded foliage, causing beams of light to shoot off in all directions. It was silent, until Craig broke it with a 'hey'. "It's our anniversary," I began to explain, twitching nervously, but I was cut off abruptly by lips pressing tightly against mine. Craig was kissing me. My entire body was on fire, searing with pleasurable warmth that emanated from Craig and into me. I groaned with pleasure, pushing myself into him, and burying my head into his chest. I inhaled, deeply, enjoying his distinct scent. "Like I would forget," he mumbled, falling back onto the grassy slope which surrounded the lake and pulling me down with him. I fell atop him, onto his chest, but I didn't move. We stayed there, lying together at the edge of the lake, for as long as we could. In this position, I could feel the contours of his lean body and stare up into those sea blue eyes. It was heaven.
Eventually, after the sun had set, we slunk back to camp to find our tent already built. It was the largest, having to accommodate two of us instead of just one, in our row of four tents. Clyde had came through on his offer, thankfully, which meant we had somewhere to sleep. I sighed, relieved and thankful, before diverting my attention to the lit fire which crackled soothingly a few metres away from all of our tents. Token, Clyde and Jimmy were already sat around it. We joined them, sitting together on an old, hollow log that the guys had dragged over earlier. Clyde handed me a large flask, which I immediately began to sip from. It was caffeine! My friends knew me too well. After all, if anxiety was like a rat, then coffee was my 'rat poison'.
I hated creepy stories, but it was Halloween, so it didn't take long for the guys to start. Token, being the 'smart-ass' that he was, seemed to know the most and took the lead. "There lived a man, happy but unfulfilled. He had a seemingly perfect life: the perfect job, the perfect house, and the perfect family. However, he wanted more. It always felt like something, a hole in his heart that couldn't be filled, was missing. One day, on his way to work at the office, he came across a homeless beggar on the street. He normally paid them no attention, or at best gave them a few dollars before walking on, but for some reason he found himself stopping for this one. The beggar gave him a key, an ordinary-looking bronze key. However, as the beggar soon explained, it wasn't ordinary. 'This key is special. If you find the door it unlocks, then you will have everything you could ever need or want. It is a key to happiness. Behind it, there lives a family who will help you. The wife in particular gets lonely whilst the man of the house is away at work, so take it. You look like a man in need of some pleasure, and she can help you, like she helped me.' At first, the man ignored the key and went about his daily life. Curiosity soon overwhelmed him though and he became obsessed. Everyday, he would search for the door which the key opened, moving from house to house across the town. When he stopped showing up for work, he lost his job. When he stopped showing up for dinner, he lost his wife. When he stopped showing up for birthdays, he lost his kids. The divorce was quickly finalised and the man went to collect his belongings. As the only house left in town which he hadn't tried the key in, he inserted it into the keyhole. It clicked. They found his body a few days later, drowned in the nearby river, his lifeless hand still clutching the very key that had forsaken him."
The story was more upsetting than actually scary - not that I minded. I still twitched nervously throughout, afterwards deciding that I had had enough scary stories and leaving the guys to it. Squeezing Craig's hand reassuringly before I left, I shot him a 'I'll be back' smile and then went for a walk. I found my way back to the lake. The winds had picked up and, in the opening of the lake, they buffeted at my already messy blond hair, which I promptly set about trying to correct. Suddenly, there came a noise. It sounded like a whimper. Was it an animal? Had a bird broken its wing? It was too loud for that though. Confused, I scanned the area. There was nobody. Only, of in the distance, what looked like a jacket thrown out across the grass. It was burgundy! That was Clyde's jacket! Worried, I ran, grabbed it, and then looked around. Twitching anxiously, I began to call out his name. "Clyde! Are you out here? Clyde!" There was no answer.