Author's Note: Hm, so I've had worries about chapter. I've gone through and re-edited it like three times but it still seems off to me. I can't really get rid of the parts that worry me because they were basically the first two things that came to my head and helped me shape the story when I got the idea for this thing. Warning - some (mild) violence in this chapter.
Just wanted to say thanks to those of you who reviewed; seriously, I've spent way too much time re-reading reviews than writing chapters. Just wanted to let y'all know I really appreciate it!
"Come on!" Kenny was laughing, shoving a half-empty bottle in his face. The arcade had been fun for maybe all of ten, fifteen minutes. Then the bar across from them started to look a little more appealing – at least for Kenny, it had. With his fake ID in tow, it'd taken him a mere manner of minutes to obtain enough beers to get even Eric Cartman, with his immense body weight, totally smashed.
"Augh! No, no thanks," replied Tweek, preferring his coffee over the beer that Kenny was swinging in front of his face.
"C'mon Tweeky, you need to lighten up some!"
He watched as his ride home continued to down more of some brand-name beer that Tweek felt tasted even worse than his dad's coffee. He knew this for a fact because Kenny had practically forced some of it down him earlier, and now Tweek was still trying to get rid of the taste that to him seemed like warm liquidiated horse radish. He felt himself sinking lower and lower in his seat, wondering how he had ended up at a bar with his half-drunk boyfriend-esque acquaintance.
"Hey, I'm gonna go refill, okay?" he said, tapping Kenny on the shoulder to get his attention while motioning to his thermos with the other hand. Kenny moved back a little, a crazy grin on his face that seemed to indicate he was hardly even seeing Tweek.
"Yea? That's cool, that's cool."
His thermos wasn't even empty as he pushed his chair back and made his way out of the bar, twitching nervously at the sight of almost every other patron he accidentally made eye contact with. What was he doing there?
He wandered through the mall, making his way to the nearest coffee shop. Usually his quest for coffee was filled either euphoria or desperation. Now, though, as he made his way past the strangely quiet shops, he felt neither in his almost pointless wandering. He just wanted to get away, away from all the beer and the rowdy red-necks and the bar and...Kenny?
He wandered into the shop. He didn't know it was called (something with a moose in the title?), but then, he didn't really bother with names. What he did know was that this particular establishment boasted five different drink sizes, a small array of pastries including three types of danishes, two types of cookies and three different brownies, ten signature coffees and up to twenty various types of extra ingredients or condiments to mix into them.
It was nearing twelve as Tweek stood on the other side of the counter, his neck craned upward as he studied the menu tacked above him. A coffeehouse staple, it was a blackboard with the drink names written in chalk.
"You ready to order?"
He snapped his head in the direction of the voice. A young man, probably around his age, was standing lazily across the counter, tying back his apron as he waited for Tweek's response.
"Gah!" The cashier raised an eyebrow, "Uh, ye-e-es?"
"O-o-okay," replied the young man, "What'll it be then?"
"Arg, okay, can I get a white chocolate mocha?" asked Tweek, pulling at his shirt's collar.
"Size?"
"Large."
"Two-percent?"
"Sure – geh!"
"Whipped cream?"
"Yea—nng!—thanks."
"Alright," he watched as the cashier rang up his order. It felt almost sacrilegious to order at a place other than Harbucks or Tweak Bros., but he was hardly about to walk all the way home just to get a cup of coffee. "That'll be 4.25"
He rummaged though his wallet for about two seconds before extracting a gift card for what he thought was the correct place. Whenever holidays or his birthday came around he found himself showered in gift cards to local coffee shops by Clyde and Token, and occasionally Craig when he was feeling bothered to get a gift. He took the card as the other man handed it back to him and then shuffled off to the side as he waited for his drink. He took it wordlessly as it was handed to him and moved over to a small table near the shops' front window, grateful for the lid they had placed over the beverage. He hated the places where they didn't cap their drinks. His constant fidgeting had lost him more than a few good coffees, and he had mourned the loss of every one.
The mall was a weird place on late Friday nights. That is to say, it was, for some inexplicable reason, mostly empty. Already half of the stores had been closed, their entrances guarded by curtains of metal bars. The glossy floors lay bare, marked by unused benches and mall maps. Through the mall roof's windows, Tweek could just make out a few stars.
Was he really running away from Kenny? He took a sip of his drink, glancing at the empty chair across from him. If he was at the point where he'd rather sit alone in a coffee shop and have bored baristas stare at him for the weird vibrating freak he couldn't help but feel he was, than be with Kenny, then maybe it, whatever "it" was, was over.
Or it's just the bar, he thought, rubbing off the whipped cream that had attached itself to his nose, He likes them, I…don't. Maybe that's all it is. Still, he couldn't help but tug at his hair a little at the thought.
I wish Craig was here.
He finished his drink in silence, before admitting to himself that he had better head back to the bar to make sure Kenny didn't forget about him and leave him to get home by himself. Jesus, I'd have to hitchhike or something, and then I'd probably get raped and murdered and my body parts would get sold on the black market, Christ! He sped up his walk, the hem of his shirt tight in his twisting grasp.
Kenny hadn't forgotten about him. In fact, it would have been relatively hard for him to get up and abandon Tweek at the moment because he was passed out on the counter. A small assortment of glass bottles rested at his feet, another tilted in his hand against his mouth, as if he had fallen unconscious just as he had been about to take another sip.
"Kenny?" said Tweek into his ear, beginning to shake him roughly. "Kenny!"
"Mmmlea'me'lone," he murmured, raising his arm in a half-effort to swat away whoever was attempting to wake him up.
"Nng, yea, much as I'd love to have a sleepover in a bar," hissed Tweek, jabbing Kenny in the side. Kenny shouted something as he snapped upright, looking around him and seemingly surprised to see Tweek standing there.
"Eh, what?" he yawned, and Tweek wrinkled his nose at the stench, "What time is it?"
"Twelve something?"
"Shit…let's go."
Kenny slid from his stool and onto the floor, Tweek moving forwards as if to catch him, but gravity proved to have too strong a hold on him.
"Goddamn what'm I doing down here?" muttered Kenny from the floor, raising a hand to the bar counter and using it to help him hoist himself up, "Shit, where's my Tweek?"
"…I'm over here Kenny."
Kenny turned, grinning at the sight of him. "Alriiight, let's go."
They'd stumbled their way down to the parking lot, where Tweek grew increasingly worried of Kenny's current state. He had even offered to drive, to which Kenny had looked at him as if Tweek had just offered to shuttle them to the moon. "You mus' be fuckin' kidding me," he'd said, grinning, "Like that's even legal."
Like the five beers you just drank were legal.
Regardless, through some wide stroke of luck, Kenny managed to make it to Tweek's house without killing the two of them.
"Thanks," said Tweek, not even sure what he had to be grateful for as he exited the car and moved onto the sidewalk in front of his house.
"Hey, where're you goin'?"
"Home?" he replied, turning to see Kenny.
"A'ite, c'mere first."
Wary, Tweek crossed back over to the car. Kenny had rolled down the window on his side and as soon as he was within arms reach, Kenny had grabbed Tweek by his frayed collar and pulled him forwards, almost smashing Tweek's face into his own in one of his trademark drunk kisses.
"See you tomorrow," he grinned, releasing a dazed looking Tweek. He reached out and slapped Tweek's butt before slamming on the accelerator, disappearing down the road.
xxx
"Strike three! You're out!"
"Wha-what?"
"You heard 'em Tweak, you're out!"
He couldn't even remember the first two pitches, but the coach was yelling at him and some other kid was standing to the side, waiting for the bat. Clearly I missed something, thought Tweek as he moved off to sit and watch the rest of practice from the sidelines. Honestly, he hated baseball. Whoever thought it would be a good idea to chuck balls at people in the first place? But his dad…Tweek rolled his eyes, twirling a strand of grass at his feet. His dad had always been pushing him towards the game, and it made him happy enough to come and see his son playing, even if Tweek was only up for the amount of time it took the other team to strike him out.
"Rough practice?"
Tweek twisted his neck to look around, a shaky grin spreading across his face at the sight of Craig, sweaty from football practice (South Park didn't follow the regular rules for what seasons sports were supposed to play in) walking towards him.
"Nah. Just boring, as usual. What're you doing out of practice already?"
Craig shrugged, "It ended early."
"…Oh."
He laughed, "What did you expect?"
Craig, like Tweek, had no actual interest in the sport he was playing. Tweek was well aware of the fact that his friend would much rather be sitting off in a park, fiddling with his camera or something, than tackling other football players. Craig's dad had basically bullied his son into sports to make sure he didn't "end up like your poofy friend." Unfortunately he'd ended up doing rather brilliantly in the sport since he ended up taking out all his anger on the football and teammates, so he was continuously guilted and bullied into continuing the sport.
"So, are you done?"
"I am," replied Tweek, digging his hands into the surrounding grass, "But I'm sure the coach is going to want to yell at us some more before we can leave. Jesus!"
He looked up, startled, to see Craig moving to sit down on the grass next to him. Tweek pulled off his hat, twisting it in his hands. Now on eye-level, Craig seemed to perform a sort of double-take when he looked towards Tweek.
"Wow," he said, eyebrows raised, "You look like shit."
"Agh! What!?"
"Yea, you okay?"
"What do I look like!? Do you have a mirror? Jesus, I don't, oh man, am I sick? Are my eyes bleeding? Shit, I have Ebola! Oh Christ! Augh!"
"Woah, woah, stop – stop." Craig reached up to grab Tweek's arms, as the anxious teen had already gone to work at ripping out his hair, "No, you don't have Ebola. If you had Ebola, I'd tell you, right?"
Tweek took a few wavering gulps of air, noticing that Craig still seemed to have a firm grasp on his wrists, "Yes?"
"Damn straight," nodded Craig, reaching into his pocket, "I don't have a mirror, sorry, but this might work."
With his newly freed arms, Tweek took the reflective lighter his friend was handing to him, holding it horizontal as he moved it towards his face. Staring back at him through the smudged silver was a distorted version of himself, although he had hardly noticed the dark rings developing around his eyes as he had rushed out the house that morning, nor the fact that his hair was even more disheveled than usual. He had a sort of unhealthy look hanging around him. With a shiver, he handed the lighter back to Craig, who accepted it wordlessly.
"Thanks," muttered Tweek, who had gone back to tearing up the grass around him since any attempt at reaching for his own hair would obviously be blocked. Craig nodded next to him as the two waited for Tweek's practice to come to an official close. The second the coach began to mouth the beginning of his closing statement (he always ended practice the same way 'get out there, get a good night's sleep and a good breakfast and keep practicing!'), Tweek had already shot off to the bench where all the water bottles and his thermos sat, Craig following behind him at a much slower pace. For some reason the coach had decided to ban Tweek from drinking coffee during practices and games. The two hours he had to go coffee-less every Saturday were always brutal for him. By the time he'd reached the bench, Tweek had already downed more than half of his thermos's contents.
"Ready now?" asked Craig. Traditionally, the two would leave and walk home from practice together.
"Oh, yea, but, I'm…I'm going…not home," replied Tweek, turning to grab his bag, only to find Craig had already hoisted it over his own shoulder.
"Kenny's again?" He frowned, noticing when Tweek seemed to wince at his reply, "Yea, I figured."
"But…we can go the long way?"
Craig grinned, looking down to see Tweek smiling shyly back up at him, "Sure."
The long way entailed leaving the field from the left, which would lead them towards Stark Pond and then to the small patch of forest beyond that, instead of just cutting through the nearby parking lot and following the streets home. It was already 3 o'clock as they began their trek towards the pond, a small gathering of dark clouds beginning to move in. Tweek was not looking forwards to what he anticipated would be the second snowfall of the week.
Stark Pond was entirely frozen over, as usual, when they made their way past it. The pond was marked with the various skating forms of young children, and Tweek and Craig both found themselves drawn towards them, slowing their walk as they neared the lake.
"Man," muttered Craig, standing on the edge of the pond, "Remember when that was us?"
"Nng! Are you kidding!? Like I would go skating, Jesus Christ, kids with little knives on the bottom of their shoes…" replied Tweek, just as a second grader skated by them. The child turned around to give Tweek a strange look before turning too quickly so that he slipped and fell. Craig made no effort to hide his laughter at the younger boy.
"Yea, these kids aren't you," he looked up, scanning the lake's shore, before his eyes came to rest on another small boy who was standing on the bank, looking nervous as his eyes kept moving from the frozen water to his gesturing friends, who seemed to be trying to persuade the boy to come with them. "That's you. Bet you five bucks that kid falls on his ass two minutes after he gets on the lake."
"He doesn't look like he's getting on it…"
Craig snorted, "Nah, his friends'll pull him on."
"How do you know?" asked Tweek curiously, moving his head to look at Craig.
He shrugged, "That's what I'd do – look, see? There he goes."
The kid they were watching had his eyes screwed shut as one of his friends took his wrists and guided him over across the ice. Slowly, he opened his eyes and, upon seeing that everything was well and he was not dead, he grew excited, even letting go of his friend's hands in an attempt to move on his own. He had hardly moved one foot forwards when he began to teeter on one skate, before falling over backwards.
"Did you see that?" laughed Craig, slapping Tweek on the back before starting to walk away, "Right on his ass."
But Craig wasn't the only one laughing. The little boy, whom Tweek was still watching in some sort of fascination, had sat stunned for a second, shocked and confused to find himself on the ground, before opening his mouth and beginning to laugh.
That's not me.
"Hey!" Tweek jumped, tearing his gaze from the lake of young skaters to see Craig, who had continued walking away before, striding back towards him, "You okay?"
"Eh, yea."
"Okay…" From the look on his face, Tweek could tell that Craig clearly did not believe him. Nevertheless, he didn't question Tweek again as he turned and continued into the woods, Tweek following after him as they traced the aging dirt path that wound past Stark Pond and through the small patch of woods to the left. The forest was quiet, its trees and rocks highlighted by the snow from two days ago. They were halfway through when Tweek found the top of his thermos jammed as he struggled to unscrew it, the stubborn lid refusing to yield.
"Lemme see," said Craig, reaching for the container while moving to sit down on a nearby log. Tweek went to sit down next to him, brushing snow off before he sat down.
"Christ!" exclaimed Craig, trying to twist it open, "The hell did you do to this?"
"Augh! I don't know! Jesus Christ it won't open! I'll never get any coffee again, oh God!"
"Woah, dude, you're going to go bald early if you don't stop that," said Craig, dropping the thermos to grab Tweek's tearing hands away from his hair again.
"Shit, shit…I'm sorry," sighed the shaking teen, bending forwards a little, "Can I…can I ask you a question, Craig?"
Craig raised his eyebrows, briefly perplexed by his friend's tone and question, "Yea, of course."
"It's…it's kinda weird," he replied, coiling the hem of his shirt nervously.
"You can ask me anything, man," said Craig, reaching to grab the thermos he had previously dropped, "You know that."
"Why…why are you friends with me?"
Craig stopped, turning to gaze at Tweek who was looking down.
"I mean, why do you keep me around?"
"Well…I don't really know," started Craig uneasily, "I just, you know, we kinda…click. I don't know how I end up with freaks like you and Clyde." He grinned, trying to lighten the mood, but Tweek could only offer a brief half-smile in return. Craig's face turned serious again, "What's up with you?"
"Ehrg, I don't know…I'm just…" Tweek sighed loudly again, lowering his head into his hands. For a second, he was silent. Craig was about to speak again when Tweek suddenly launched himself into a mile-a-minute explanation. "I don't know! When I came to your house it was after Kenny tried to…he was on me and I said no and I left and went to you and I thought, I don't know what I thought but then it seemed like it was okay, like it didn't matter because I went to school the next day and he was fine, so I thought I was fine, but then when I thought it was okay he just, like he forgot about me and we went to a bar and I left and came back and he was passed out, like he didn't even care and he's just, I don't know! I never know and this time I really don't know and I haven't slept for three days and now my thermos won't open and I'm so fuckingtired!"
His face was red when he looked up, pronouncing the dark bags beneath his eyes. He was twitching violently and Craig, not entirely sure how to comfort his clearly distressed friend, slowly moved to drape his arm across Tweek's shoulders. Tweek, in his anger and frustration, hardly even paused to think how abnormal this was for Craig, instead reacting almost instinctively in moving his own head against Craig's shoulder.
Tweek hardly seemed to notice as Craig pulled him in tighter, his eyes downcast. He moved his head a little on Craig's shoulder, feeling the fabric of his friend's sweatshirt rub against his cheek. One of the ear flaps of Craig's hat was leaned against Tweek's hair; he could see it if he strained his eyes upwards. He thought Craig might have said something, but he wasn't sure. Slowly Tweek closed his eyes, feeling the tired weight that hung around his shoulders slip and fall, and the last things he noticed were Craig's shoes, and how quiet and unmoving the forest was, like no one (not even Kenny) could ever find them there, and then world seemed to just fade away.
xxx
Slowly, unwillingly, his senses came back to him – he didn't want to open his eyes, so he kept them closed and allowed himself to re-familiarize himself with his surroundings through other senses. He was aware that he was sitting, leaning, against something. It smelled like Clorox and cigarettes, and it felt warm. He could feel a slight chill blowing against his face, nudging his hair against his closed eyes and nose. With a short yawn, Tweek blinked open his eyes, and saw that it was much darker than it had been before, with streaks of purple and red traced across the sky. He stayed still, watching the silhouettes of the forest darken against the fire-painted sky, until it began to dawn on him that if it was dark, that only lended to the fact that no doubt time had passed. He jumped up then, staring wildly as if the time would present itself to him amongst the trees – it couldn't have been that late, he'd only closed his eyes for a second, hadn't he?
"Morning sunshine."
He whirled around. Craig was grinning up at him while shaking his right arm awake.
"I – what?"
"You fell asleep."
"How long!? Christ, what time is it?"
Craig shrugged, "I dunno, three, four hours?"
"Three – why didn't you wake me up!?"
"You said you hadn't slept for three fuckin' days! Why the hell would I wake you up?"
"You…you've just been sitting there? The whole time!?"
"Jesus, Tweek, if I'd known it was going to give you a fuckin' ulcer…"
"No, I just, I'm supposed to go, I'm supposed…"
"Oh," Craig rose from the log, brushing snow from his pants, "Yea, Kenny's."
"Late! I'm so late, four hours, Christ!"
"'I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date!'" said Craig in a sing-song voice.
Tweek stared. "Wha…What!?"
"Nothing," replied Craig, waving his hand absently as he slung his bag over his shoulder and moved to grab Tweek's.
"No," said Tweek, moving to hoist his bag over his back before his friend could reach it, "Nhng! – I'm sorry, but, but I've gotta…Christ! Four hours!"
"Tweek," started Craig, but before he could say anything else, Tweek had turned and bolted down the trail, still muttering exclamations under his breath. Craig sighed and watched his retreating form before looking down, surprised to see Tweek's thermos still in his hands.
xxx
Late…so late…dammit!
It was all that was racing through Tweek's mind as he hopped up the front steps of the McCormick's home. He rapped quickly on the door in his signature desperate knock, but there was no reply. His mouth felt dry as he leaned back to check the driveway. The car wasn't there, but then, it usually wasn't anyways, seeing as it was a shared vehicle. Tweek had let himself in before, but he'd always been expected then – on time.
I can't just blow him off completely, thought Tweek, practically dancing in his agitation, I gotta go in.
He tapped on the door again and, when he continued to receive no response, spread his hand out on the front door and pushed. It slid open on rusty hinges, causing Tweek to cringe at the loud creak produced. No doubt anyone inside would have been alerted to his presence now. He stepped delicately inside the house, as if any wrong step would set off an alarm. Once within, he looked anxiously back at the open door, which was letting in small trails of flakes as the predicted snowstorm began to set in. Regretfully, Tweek shut the door, his worry increasing as the door creaked to a halt.
The house was quiet but for the low volume on the living room's TV, the screen casting a blue glare across the back wall of the room that Tweek was currently making his way into.
"Hello?" he asked timidly, becoming sharply aware of the fact that he couldn't find his thermos anywhere on him as he clawed at the air around him, half-expecting the container to suddenly materialize for him.
"What?" someone called out in a voice that Tweek recognized as Kenny's, "Who'sthur?"
"Kenny?" he asked, moving further into the room. An orange shape with dirty blonde hair suddenly appeared over the couch as the disheveled Kenny heaved himself up. He narrowed his eyes.
"Whazzut?"
Tweek very nearly rolled his eyes. Of course, Kenny was drunk. As if the bloodshot eyes and scattered beer bottles weren't enough of a hint before. It would be best if he just got out of there, Tweek realized. Leaving an intoxicated Kenny would hardly be the same as leaving a sober one. Drunk, Kenny was hardly the same person.
"Tweek?"
He froze. He hadn't entirely been expecting him to be coherent enough to recognize who he was. Hopefully he'd at least be drunk enough to be unable to realize it was –
"Whereee the fuck were you?"
Kenny pushed himself off the couch, beginning a slow advance towards Tweek, who could almost feel his heart rate spiking as he retreated into the wall.
"I, I'm sorry I would've called – ghn! I f-fell asleep."
"Youu were with Craig," slurred Kenny. It wasn't a question, and despite his still being halfway across the room, Tweek could already smell the alcohol on his breath. At this point, it was a miracle Kenny was even standing as he continued to stagger forwards, until he was barely an inch away from Tweek.
"Augh! Yes, but, it's not like," Tweek's eyes widened, his hands already tugging away at his hair, "You don't, don't think I'd – he'd – that we'd – I mean, we, just, we're just –"
"Shit," breathed Kenny, sending a rush of the putrid smell rolling towards Tweek. "Tha' bastard," his eyes flicked towards Tweek, "You bastard."
"Kenny, really, I d—"
For someone with enough liquor in them to convince Mr. Slave he was straight, Kenny had surprising accuracy in landing his punch where he wanted: the left side of Tweek's face.
"Ah!" cried Tweek, more out of surprise and shock than actual pain, though there was plenty of that. The force of the blow slammed back into the wall, giving Tweek just enough time to manage ducking as Kenny swung for his face again.
"You been fuckin' 'round with Craig!" he yelled, resorting to kicking.
"Augh! Shit, Kenny, you're drunk!" he cried, brain rolling in pain with every new kick.
"Fuckin' 'round with Craig, you sonnavabitch!"
Tweek was on the floor, curled up in a defensive ball with his head tucked between his arms. Kenny was still yelling, but it was more like indecipherable drunken shouting at this point. His kicking, however, remained strong, and Tweek could feel his eyes growing hot. The back of his throat was sore as he choked back the cries of pain that were threatening to escape. He could think of nothing to do as he lay on the floor, each blow sending a new wave of pain and confusion. And meanwhile he was just a weak, good-for-nothing, caffeine addict who couldn't even defend himself from a drunken idiot.
IwantoutIwantoutIwantout!
And then all he could think of was Craig, and if Craig was there and he'd just be ashamed, Tweek knew it he knew it, knew Craig would walk in and see Tweek and just shake his head and leave again because who in their right mind would stay around to help out Tweek of all people and he could see it, he could just see Craig shaking his head and not even looking at him and leaving him forever.
So get out.
He wasn't sure where it came from, just that Tweek suddenly realized he didn't want to be a pathetic lump on the ground who had resigned himself to simply being abused. He felt another kick make contact with his side and, with his eyes screwed shut, Tweek brought his legs together and kicked out with as much force as he could muster. He heard a sort of grunt, and when he opened his eyes, saw Kenny had fallen backwards and onto the ground. For a second, Tweek didn't move. Then he saw Kenny making an effort to get up again, and he scrambled quickly to his feet, limping out the door as fast as he could.
There was no question in his mind as to where he was going as he stumbled down the front steps and into the cold.
xxx
"Man, what took you?" asked Clyde, stomping his feet on the doormat to rid his boots of the clinging snow.
"Sorry, I forgot I had to take Gilly to her friend's birthday party," replied Craig, shutting the door after Clyde. From the kitchen, Gillian could hear her brother but made no effort to point out his lie, thanks to the extra five dollars she had recently acquired and now had tucked in her pocket.
"And that took like four hours?" Craig flipped him off, and the two retreated to the living room, where Craig had only just reached for the remote control when the doorbell rang, followed two seconds after by a rapid knock on the door.
"Sounds like Tweek," grinned Clyde. Craig, however, was serious as he retraced his steps back to the door.
"I just saw him two seconds ago, he was going to Kenny's…Bet he realized I have his thermos."
"Dude how did you get that away from him?" asked Clyde as he followed Craig. He didn't answer, though, as he swung open the door to reveal a bruised and shivering person on his doorstep. It took both of them a few seconds to realize who it was.
"Tweek!" shouted Craig, grabbing and pulling him into the warmth of his home, Clyde looking somewhat scared as he closed the door. "What – what happened?"
Tweek's left eye was shut, the left side of his face purple and swollen. He walked with a limp and he winced when Craig had grabbed him around his waist. He continued to tug absently at his shirt, his mind dizzy as he struggled to answer.
"Tweek, Tweek," Craig was holding Tweek's head now, his chin cupped in Craig's hands, "What happened?"
"M-maybe we should get ice…or something," suggested Clyde nervously, but he didn't move.
"Was it Kenny?" asked Craig, his voice low.
"What?" muttered Tweek, his voice faint.
"Look at me! Tweek!" But he seemed unable to comply with Craig's orders. His eyes seemed to slide out of focus, his ears seemingly unable to register what Craig was saying. Clyde was standing to the side, looking unsure as to what he should be doing.
And then Tweek was on the ground, his body twitching and seizing in a very un-Tweek like manner as his eyes rolled back in their sockets to reveal only white slits, and Craig's hands were left holding only air.