Hey, chilluns! Sorry if things seem to be a smidge delayed from here on out. I got some tests I need to be studying for so you know…life sometimes forces you to respect priorities despite really not wanting too. Forget about that though! Here's some creek for ya!

Too Old For This Crap

Chapter 4: Moonshine

Tweek

An open relationship.

Had he heard him correctly?

What had he meant?

Tweek stared at himself in the mirror as he struggled to control his breaths. It seemed as if there were something inside him that was maniacally trying to force him to breathe fast and deeply. As he gripped the sink he continued to stare at himself in the mirror and commanded himself not hyperventilate.

He'd been there a while now and he wasn't sure if he'd been there long enough to cause Craig to worry about him. Did it even matter at that moment? Would he even come looking for him considering what had just been said?

Feeling his breaths begin to wane and the surge of adrenaline that had been pumping throughout his body begin to fade away, he felt his grip start to weaken on the porcelain bowl before him and slowly he steadied himself downwards towards the floor. He ended up on his side and hunched over as he tried to hide away from the world, from the pain inside, and from himself.

What was he going to do now? Craig had just said he didn't want to be with him. Or, if not that, then something along those lines. What did being in an open relationship mean? What would he be expected to do? Or not do? Would they still really be together? Did it mean they would be kind of semi-boyfriends? Could he deal with the thought of Craig dating other guys? Or girls? Oh, God! Girls! What if he discovered he liked girls more than boys and decided he wanted get married and have kids? What would he do then? What is he went and got some girl pregnant and broke it off with him for good. What would happen to him? Where would he ever find someone else? He'd be alone forever. He'd die alone.

"Just slow down" he whispered to himself as he worked his hands into his hair and began to tug gently. He had to try and slow his tortured mind. This would go from bad to worse if he didn't keep tabs on himself and he knew he had to try and keep it together at that moment.

Maybe he was jumping the gun. Maybe he just needed to take a second and let Craig explain what he meant. After all, he'd said he didn't want to break up, right? He'd said he still wanted to be together, he just wanted to mix things up a bit. Yes, they had been in a relationship for ages so perhaps it was okay that he was admitting he wanted to expand his horizons.

Did that mean he was bored though? Was this just a precursor to a breakup? How would he deal with that? How would he carry on without Craig? How would he survive? How would he do anything?!

On top of that, he said he didn't love him. Or something. Something about not knowing whether he loved him. How in God's name could he not know that? How could he not love him after all this time? What had he done so wrong to prevent Craig from loving him? What was wrong with him?!

His emotional seesawing was suddenly interrupted as he heard a gentle knock on door and lifted his head when he heard Craig's heavy-hearted voice come from the other side.

"Tweek? Are you okay?"

Tweek felt his jaw quivering as he stared wide-eyed at the closed door, wondering what he should do.

"I'm coming in, okay?" he heard Craig say as he heard the lock begin to jiggle and in a split second he picked himself up and tried to straighten his clothes, hoping that Craig wouldn't be able to tell he was crumbling.

After a moment or two the door pushed open to reveal the taller boy standing there and looking pretty downtrodden. He clearly looked like he was carrying a mountain of grief and it saddened Tweek to see him looking so down. He didn't want him to be sad. He'd had the courage to bring this whole business up and he didn't deserve to feel shitty for it. Or did he? Tweek didn't know.

"Are you okay?" he said as he took a step forward and reached out to him. Tweek just stared at his outstretched hand and thought for a second, as if he didn't know what he was supposed to do with it. After a strange, oddly tense interval, he reached out and took it, taking a step forward and automatically wrapping his arms around his boyfriends waist whilst burying his face in his chest. It was a natural reflex he'd just seemed develop over the years they'd spent together. Even now it felt safe and secure, despite what was going on around him. In those arms he was home, or at least he could kid himself into believing that he was.

"Look, I'm sorry" Craig said as he nuzzled to top of Tweek's head. "I shouldn't have brought it up. Just forget about it, okay?"

Tweek looked up at him. "What do you mean you don't know if you love me?"

Craig closed his eyes and immediately looked regretful. Why the fuck had he said that? Why didn't he just lie or diffuse it like always? He knew Tweek was never going to have taken that well and hated himself for having gone and done it anyway. With a laboured sigh, he kept his eyes closed and spoke softly.

"I don't know what love feels like. I just don't know how to tell when you feel it"

"How do you know you don't feel it then?"

"That's just it. I don't know"

"Well…How-…How about-…Oh, God, I don't know…" said Tweek as he uselessly tried to find his words. "Are you sure you haven't just had enough of me?"

Craig squeezed him tighter. "Absolutely sure. I still need you, Tweek. I want to have you forever"

Tweek sniffed nervously. "Then why…" he began before shutting his mouth tightly as a thought popped into his mind. It was true Craig had never really felt loved – not from his parents, not from family and not by anyone else. Well, except for him, and Craig knew that he loved him. He had to know. Perhaps that was enough for now, despite how much it killed him inside to have to deal with such uncertainty over whether or not it was reciprocal. Craig may not have been certain that he loved him, but he was certain he loved Craig and had done for years. He needed Craig and he wasn't about to let him go. Perhaps then he just needed to let him do this. Perhaps if he let him do what he needed to do then he'd discover that he did love him. Perhaps this was just the way Craig needed to learn about himself and learn about them as a couple, because he clearly had no reference or anything real to compare it to. He was an abstract kind of guy, so maybe he needed this abstract method of learning to love.

Oh, God! What a stupid fucking thought! How was he even considering this was okay? This was definitely not a good thing and it was just ridiculous that he was even thinking it! How could Craig possibly think he was going to be okay with this proposal? How did he think he was going to handle it? How could Craig have done this?!

What were his options though? Say no and risk Craig resenting him over time? Say yes and risk losing him to someone else?

Risk.

That's all this was. Suddenly he had no option but to take a risk either way and he hated that he had no choice. He never liked making decisions when so much was at stake and all he wanted was for the ground to swallow him up and take the pressure away.

"I…I need to think about it" was all Tweek could say as he desperately held onto the comfort he found in Craig's embrace. It seemed like that was all he had now and he just couldn't think about anything else.

The two stayed there in the bathroom for a long time, just holding each other in silence and trying to let the dust settle. It was such a big thing for both of them to consider and they were both clearly cut up by the shocking amount of heartache that had been brought on. Still, probably better out in the open rather than bottled up where it could fester.

Their unsettled clinging to each other was eventually interrupted by a sound from downstairs that signalled Tweek's parents arriving and it seemed to instantly snap them out of their trance. Tweek took a few deep breaths as he tried to orientate himself after such long meditative hugging and, after a moment, shouted back to something his mom yelled up the stairs.

"I'll…be down in a moment" he called weakly and blinking as if he didn't quite believe the world he'd opened his eyes to.

"I…think I should go" Craig mumbled as he looked at Tweek mournfully.

"You don't have to" he replied, wishing that he wouldn't leave him to ponder alone.

"No, I should. My parents will get mad if I don't show my face at home"

"Oh…okay"

"Are you gonna be okay?"

Tweek just looked up at him. There were no words.

"Okay. Look, I'll call you later." Was all Craig could say, hating himself for not being able to say something comforting or even appropriate for that moment. It was as if he had come in, beat the shit out of Tweek and was now leaving him to deal with his injuries on his own. He felt like garbage, because that's what he was: garbage.

He didn't deserve Tweek. Had he ever really deserved Tweek?

With that, he turned and slowly made his way out of the bathroom and down the hall. Taking the stairs slowly, he made sure not encounter either of Tweek's parents as he silently snuck out of the house and made his way across the lawn. Getting into his car, he turned on the engine in an instant and recklessly pulled away from the curb before speeding down the street. As he drove, he felt his grip tighten like a vice around the steering wheel as his breathing became heavy and heated. He was angry with himself and he hated everything he was at that moment.

Pulling the car to a halt. He simply sat there in the middle of the road, fervently sucking and blowing air through his clenched teeth and, with as much might as he could muster, fought back tears which began to sting his eyes as they threatened to roll down his cheeks. He'd blindsided Tweek and just left him there to deal with it on his own and yet – and yet – he still wanted this open relationship he'd suggested. He needed to experience other people. It was like an ever-growing calling and he just couldn't ignore it. Tweek was great, but he needed to try more.

He was such a goddamn fucking selfish bastard and he just wanted to die.

Craig

Where was going to go? How was leaving Tweek at a time like this going to help things? His parents probably didn't give a crap if he went home or not and he figured it was a pretty poor excuse for getting out of there and one that Tweek probably hadn't bought. That just made it all the worse to think that his boyfriend was probably still listlessly standing in that bathroom and agonizing over what he'd just been told. Fuck. He knew Tweek couldn't deal with these sorts of things alone and he'd still left him. He was filth. He was the absolute worst of humanity that didn't deserve the boy he'd clearly just crushed.

And still, he drove on, aimlessly making his way through blocks of houses as the snow gently fell on his windshield. Where could he even go? Who would even take him in at a moment like this?

After a mile or two more he stopped at a red light and just stared at the intersection in front of him. He was heading into the bad part of town now and he could already see homeless people shuffling along the sidewalk in the cold. With a pained breath, he reached up and rubbed his tired, sore eyes and tried to think of what was going to happen now. He'd left it so openly with Tweek that he didn't even know how he was meant to go forward. Who was meant to talk to whom? Was Tweek meant to give him a yes or no or was he simply meant to just do what he had said?

When the light turned green, he slowly rolled forward and into the next street as he tried to figure out where to go and soon found himself heading in the direction of his only friend that lived close by. Thankfully, this was probably the most appropriate friend for a time like this and he really hoped he would find some kind of solace when he got there. Token would probably only make him feel worse and, despite him being a great guy, he couldn't help him now. Clyde had no clue about any of this and probably wouldn't tell him anything useful. He didn't really trust anyone else with something like this, except for this one other person. As he pulled up at the one helpful friend's house, he suddenly felt a breath of hope fill him and, after a short walk through the trash-strewn, haphazard front yard, he pushed the bell and waited to be greeted.

When the door opened, he was flooded with light and a weird chemical smell that he really hoped wasn't some constituent of meth. Before him stood a haggard-looking woman with a bad dye job and a dirty green t-shirt who looked up at him distrustfully.

"Who are you?" she said warily.

"Craig" he replied, wondering if she really didn't recognize him.

"What do you want?"

"Kenny, please" he said with a steely voice.

The woman just gave him a suspicious look and let him into the messy home. Making his way through the chaotic living room and down a dingy, poorly lit hallway, he arrived outside his friend's room and tentatively knocked on the door.

"What?" he heard a perturbed voice call from the other side before he opened the door to reveal Kenny sprawled out on his bed and looking sort of dazed.

"Craig? What are you doing here?" the scruffy blonde boy asked hazily.

"I need to talk" he replied as he entered and closed the door behind him.

"To me?" Kenny asked, finding it odd that Craig would come to him.

"Yeah. I didn't know where else to go"

"Jeez, is it serious?"

"Sorta. I don't really know"

"Well, tell me, man."

Craig sighed. He figured he may as well just get it out there.

"I asked Tweek what he thought about us having an open relationship"

"Shit. Really?" Kenny asked, suddenly becoming more alert.

"Yeah. It didn't go-…" he wanted to say 'well' but he wasn't sure if that was the right word. It hadn't definitely gone badly, it had just gone…it had just gone. He'd handled it terribly but their actual conversation had gone rather blankly with no real resolve.

"…like I thought it would" he finally finished.

"Well, damn. Is Tweek alright?"

"No. Maybe. I don't really know. I left without really making sure. I'm a cunt"

Kenny chuckled and grabbed his friend's shoulder, giving it a gentle rub of support.

"You're not a cunt, man. You're a dumbass, but you're not a cunt"

"I…" began Craig before suddenly feeling a small smile break through his feeling crappy. "You always know what to say"

"I just figure you can't go around calling yourself things like that if it's not true. Besides, you probably didn't mean for things go the way they did. But seriously, how did it actually go?"

"Well-"

"Hang on" Kenny said before hopping up and walking over to his dresser. He rummaged around for a second before he pulling out a mostly-full bottle of some clear liquid. "Wanna take the edge off?"

Craig squinted at the bottle.

"Is that…moonshine?" he asked with a sneer.

"Finest moonshine in Colorado" he said as he paced back over to the bed proudly.

"Where'd you get it?"

"You'd be surprised at the advances made over the past few years in the field of fake I.D.'s"

"Then why not buy something better than moonshine?"

"Cheap is cheap, my friend" said Kenny as he opened the bottle and took a sip. Holding the bottle out, Craig hesitantly took it off of him and smelled the horrible mess that waited inside.

"What the hell?" he said before taking a swig. Instant regret shot through his body as the foul-tasting fluid burned his very soul and he groaned breathily as the ghastly stuff slipped down into his stomach. "Smooth"

Kenny sniggered. "You may not be a cunt, but you sure are a pussy!"

Tweek

Tweek sat alone on the floor next to his bed in the growing darkness of his room. Outside, snow was falling and collecting at the edge of his window, but he didn't notice as he simply sat and stared into the void, teeth clenched tightly together and hands tugging at his hair.

He really wished he knew what to do. He wished he could tell himself what could be done to make it all better. Usually at times like these he would go to Craig and then, regardless of what might happen, things would at least seem okay. Now he couldn't go to him despite wanting nothing more than to just fall into his arms.

As he sat, he tried to concentrate on keeping his breathing steady, but since their conversation earlier he'd felt a deep, pressing thirst for air inside that he just couldn't shake. Increasingly it felt as if his lungs were being constricted and, despite doing everything he could to calm down, it was starting to feel painful. He didn't know if that pain was real or if he was just imagining it, but it was there and was really beginning to bite. At the same time, his shakes were going crazy and no amount of gripping his hands into fists, or sitting on them, or yanking his hair, or trying to do anything to distract himself was helping them to stop.

He wasn't crying though, and he felt that was kind of weird. He was upset, that was undeniable, but he just didn't feel like crying. He felt hurt and alone and desperate and so many other things, but teary wasn't one of them and he simply had no clue what that meant. Did it mean he wasn't feeling things properly? Did it mean he didn't really care? Surely not. He had to care, right? He felt so much going on within him that he definitely had to care. Where were the tears though? He felt so upset and hopeless but still no tears. What did that mean?

Maybe he was broken. Maybe he'd been hit so hard that he wasn't able to react properly. Or maybe this was the proper reaction for a normal person but his brain was just giving him the wrong signals. Oh, God! Maybe there was something wrong with his brain! Maybe he had finally gone genuinely nuts! Maybe he had a brain tumor!

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

As he sat there barrelling into a mental catastrophe, so too did his breathing quickly begin to speed up from its already-too-fast rate. His whole body suddenly seemed to jitter around on its own accord and no amount of will power could make it stop. At the same time his skin felt like it was crawling and his clothes were tightening around him like a snake and without thinking he began to pull at his clothes and skin to try and find comfort once more, - or at least a position in which he could breathe properly.

Seconds later he found himself on all fours, panting at the floor with his shaky arms only barely keeping him up. With each breath his voice caught in his throat and each exhale was accompanied by a strained, high-pitched vocalization. What was happening? Why was he suddenly so panicky? Why could he suddenly not handle things?

Desperately fumbling in his pockets, he ripped out his phone and opened it to the contact list. Scrolling through, he diligently scrutinized the names as he thumbed through them and bit his lip when he found there was no one he felt he could talk to. How could he possibly not have one friend he could go to with something this major? How was it that Craig had been his only serious lifeline considering he was such a goddamn nutcase? Surely there had to be someone he could talk to at a time like this. But who? He and Token didn't really have that kind of relationship, Clyde would have no clue how to deal with something like this, he and Kyle really weren't close enough for that, and Kenny was-…KENNY!

He was the one. Kenny was the guy he needed to talk to right now. With a few flicks, he shakily raised the phone to his ear and waited for it to ring. His lip began to quiver as ring after ring sounded from the tiny speaker and then, when the final ring passed and the call went to voicemail, he felt all of the air rush out of his lungs as his clothes drew to their tightest yet. Falling flat on the floor, he ripped at his shirt and popped several of the buttons as it came off. Throwing it to the side, he writhed on his bedroom carpet as he gasped for breath and squeaked pathetically as he now began to feel completely and undeniably alone. He hated it so much.

With unsteady, almost powerless movements, he gradually shuffled his body across the floor towards his closet and simply lay there for a few seconds as he tried to clear his mind. Doing anything just seemed so impossible and he needed to escape. He just had to get out of this room or, if not there, then out of his torn up mind. Still, was doing what he now already seemed to be in the process of doing the right thing?

He felt powerless to stop himself as he jerkily pushed himself onto his knees and, with impossibly shaky hands, began to dig for a shoebox that he'd been keeping at the back of the closet for years. With a pained gulp, he slowly opened the box and dug through several bottles and packets that rested inside, eventually coming to one in particular. Holding it up in front of himself, he simply stared at the small container with tired, terrified eyes and agonized over the choice he was about to make. The label read:

'Xanax. 0.5mg. Take one pill up to three times daily, or as prescribed by your doctor. Do not exceed prescribed dose. In the event of overdose, contact your nearest poison control center.'

Doing this was definitely an escalation and he had no idea if he wanted to make everything that much more serious than it already was. He'd hardly ever done this. He'd always found some way to avoid it. Now though he just didn't see any other way and all he knew was that he desperately wanted out.

Closing his eyes, he quickly popped the cap on the bottle and placed one of the small white tablets into his mouth. Holding it on his tongue for a second, he mentally kicked himself for giving into taking the drugs he'd fought against succumbing to for years and wondered for a few tense seconds if he should really let himself take that plunge. He'd promised so many times not to change himself. He'd promised he wouldn't become a mindless, blacked out junkie because he was perfect just as he was. Or so Craig had said.

There it was. He had been perfect for Craig. He'd said there was nothing wrong with him in his eyes. Oh, how wonderful that had been. It was different now though. If there was one thing Craig had finally admitted that day – regardless of whether he'd said it outright or not - it was that he most definitely, and most assuredly was not perfect. He wasn't even adequate, he was inadequate. Insufficient to his needs. Not what he wanted. A failure. That was why he wanted to take a break from him. That was why he wanted to try other people and try out relationships with them. That was why he wasn't there right now stopping him from doing this.

In one quick flick of his tongue, Tweek swallowed hard and felt the dry pill drag as it moved down his throat. It was done. He'd given in.

Even then the tears still didn't spill. It seemed he really was broken.

Craig

"So you wanna fuck around with other guys or something?"

"Naw, man. I mean, you know, maybe, right?"

"I dunno, man" sniggered Kenny as he laughed at the slurred response.

"It's not like I really know what I want. I just know that this feels like what I should do"

"But why though? You fuck him too loose or something?"

"What?"

"His ass. Did you fuck Tweek's ass so much that it just hangs there like a stretched out old elastic band?"

"Dude! Eww! Not cool!" Craig drunkenly yelled. Kenny just laughed uncontrollably as his friend squirmed. "Why you always gotta cross that line?"

"Makes you laugh, I guess" he replied as he sipped at the now nearly empty bottle they'd been passing back and forth. Handing it to Craig, he lay back on his bed and continued to chuckle to himself as the room spun around him. Craig just leaned back against the wall as he sat on the bed and tipped the bottle once again up to his lips.

"I really wish I'd, like, figured this out properly before I did it though"

"Ehh… How can you really do something like that properly?"

"I just wish I hadn't made him so scared. I knew that it would and I still did it. I should have been able to, like, avoid the bad junk and…junk"

Kenny sighed groggily before mumbling, "Yeah, junk is bad…"

Craig looked down at Kenny and noticed looked no scruffier at that moment than he usually did. Now, however, he certainly had an added disequilibrium to his entire character. He lay there just rolling his head slowly from side to side with his eyes closed and bore a silly, lopsided smile that seemed to signal that no matter what came his way, he was always somehow fine. His hair was kind of haphazard and his shirt was riding up over his surprisingly taught navel. It looked good. Sexy even.

He suddenly looked away and stared wide-eyed at the old, ragged carpet of his friend's room. It was the booze. It was definitely the booze and his fraught emotional state that was making him loopy and forcing him to think ridiculous things. Kenny was not a sexual figure in his mind – that was for damn sure. No matter how cute he seemed right now he was definitely not a valid target for anything sexual.

Shaking his head, he took a quick, laboured breath and tried to clarify his thoughts which seemed to slosh around his mind like soup in a Tupperware bowl. Everything was pretty cloudy and he looked forward to the morning when things would be clearer. Or, at least, he hoped they would be.

"Looks like this is all gone" he blabbered after he took the final drop of the cheap, acrid hooch. Placing the empty bottle down on the sheets next to his leg, he turned his head to his friend that lay a short way from him and grunted irritably when he noticed his friend had fallen asleep. Slow, heavy breaths escaped his mouth as he slumbered in a drunken haze and Craig just turned his head back to look at his knees mournfully.

As he sat there he felt something sinking inside. It felt as if his whole body was becoming heavier and more sluggish. He felt so dreary and down and it was just awful. The moonshine almost hurt as it ran through his veins and, as some of it still lingered on his breath as he breathed, he began to feel disgusted with himself for yet another reason. And now, since Kenny had passed out, he also felt pretty alone.

He hated this feeling. He really wished coming here would have made everything feel better but it really didn't. He just hated the way everything had gone in the last few hours and he wished there was some way he could have made it work better. Why couldn't he have worded it differently? Why couldn't Tweek have been able to handle this without falling apart? How was it that they'd come so far and he was still just as anxious now as he ever had been. Sure, the boy had problems, but why couldn't there be a kind of failsafe for moments like this when he really needed to be able to handle the most serious things?

He sighed again. Was he really now starting to blame Tweek for the way things had gone? It had to be the booze again. This cheap, crappy, horrible booze Kenny had given him. It had to be playing fast and loose with his mind because blaming Tweek was definitely not what he really felt. He wanted Tweek. Right now. He wanted to be with him and hold him and be held. He felt like utter crap and just wanted to go somewhere he could feel good. Tweek had always made him feel good, and he needed him at that very moment.

Tweek

Time had passed.

He had popped another pill shortly after the first, and then another after that.

He knew he should have waited to let them kick in.

He'd been desperate.

He'd wondered if a minute or an hour had gone by.

He' taken some more.

He'd needed to get out.

He'd worried about taking more but did it anyway.

He'd waited silently.

He'd begun to feel the tension leave him.

He wasn't worried now.

In fact, he wasn't worried about anything really. Sure, he was still sad about Craig, but it just didn't hurt in the same way. Or at all really. Everything felt numb and his whole body felt as if it were gently floating a few inches off the floor. Having moved from cowering in terror to simply leaning back against the wall inside the closet, he stared blankly into the darkness that had now completely surrounded him since the sun had gone down outside his window. His face was completely void of expression and his shakes had entirely disappeared. What he knew to be himself on every single day of his life seemed a million miles away as he hovered there and this strange, alien feeling penetrated right down to his bones. Is this what true calmness felt like?

He wasn't sure. In fact, he doubted it was because the room seemed to wobble a little as he sat still. It didn't spin exactly, but it wasn't completely stable. He knew he could get up if he wanted but he knew trying to do anything with a high degree of dexterity or balance was not a good idea. This must have been what being drunk was like and he had to admit he understood why his friends and boyfriend got into states like this every now and then. It was kind of nice. Then again, they always seemed to be having a lot more fun than he was having right now so perhaps this wasn't what being drunk was like. There was no real urge to smile or laugh, he just didn't feel anything. No emotion, no real sensations, no willpower, no desire and no pain. It was surprising really since he'd been so cut up barely an hour beforehand and had been in a place where he felt the room was closing in on him. That horrible heavy weight just seemed to be lifted now and in its place was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Especially no sore feelings about his boyfriend.

His boyfriend. That was an interesting thought. Where the very idea of him had previously cut him like a knife, there was now just blankness. A silent, white mist covering the image of Craig in his head. Why when he had been so horrifically anguished just a short time ago was he now sitting there like nothing had happened – or indeed as if nothing had ever happened in his entire life? It was the pills, obviously, but that pain had been so awful it was kind of confusing to think that those tiny white specks could have been so effective. Granted, he'd taken more than he should have but even then, was it possible that they could make him so numb that he just didn't feel that pain anymore?

Suddenly, he heard a soft, short whine that sounded as if someone were calling to him from outside a big glass dome. He was fairly certain he wasn't shut in somewhere. In fact, he felt the opposite and it puzzled him as he tried to figure out what was going on. Again, the noise came, only just a little clearer this time.. What was it?

"…wee…" it called again, making him narrow his brow a little as he turned his head out of the closet in the direction he thought it had come from. "…WEAK…"

Weak? Who was it calling weak? Was he weak? Was it calling him weak? Well, that was an understatement…

"…Tweek…"

Tweek. That was him. Someone was saying his name. Calling it. Turning his whole body, he began to crawl towards the source of the sound and found himself pushing himself up off of the floor when he got out of the closet. Finding it difficult to balance, he slowly wobbled towards the door – around which light from the hallway was streaming – and gently tackled the handle.

"Tweek! Can you hear me?" he heard someone call from the bottom of the stairs. It sounded like his mom. Carefully he made his way down the hall, making sure not to stray too far from the wall in case he needed to prop himself up. Thankfully equilibrium seemed to be on his side for the moment – however unlikely that may have seemed. Grasping hold of the rail at the top of the stairs, he looked down the incline to where his mom was standing and looking up at him.

"There you are. Didn't you hear me calling?"

"Huh?" he eventually replied, wondering exactly what it was she had said.

"Oh my. Busy day at school, hun? You tired?"

"I…yeah…tired…school…hun…" he mumbled as he tried to figure out exactly what she meant and what he should say back.

"Well, come down now, dear. Dinner's ready"

"…Alright" he said airily as he began to make the climb. He held tightly onto the rail as he made his way down and hoped to God he wouldn't misstep and fall. Upon seeing his mother, something way in the back of his mind told him that perhaps they might find it odd for him not to jitter. He didn't really care. There was no real capacity to care. He was lost somewhere in a sensory fog and he wasn't sure exactly how he would get back. He did know that falling down the stairs would probably attract a little too much attention though and knew he should try to avoid it.

When he got to the bottom, he made his way towards the kitchen and carefully pulled a seat out from the table before sitting down and staring blankly at the table. His dad was there, or at least he assumed he was. His mom was doing something with the dishes or, again, so he assumed. There was some clattering over by the counter so that must have been what was happening. It didn't matter though. He was too busy looking at the tabletop.

"You have a good day at school, son?" he heard a man's voice say. It must have been his dad.

"School?" he asked curiously without moving his gaze away from the wood in front of him.

"Yes, school. You did go, didn't you?"

"I did go"

"Right. So, anything interesting happen?"

Oh boy, did something interesting happen today. Something utterly terrible and unbelievably awful. Something he had never expected and something that had crushed him into the dust. But did it matter right now?

"No"

"That's good" said his father, clearly not really paying attention.

"Good. Very good" he mumbled in return. God, he felt out of it. He felt so freaking floaty and lazy at the same time. Just sitting there seemed like hard work although, one again, he didn't really care. He gave absolutely no craps about anything but he wasn't happy about it. Nor was he sad. He just was and that was fine.

His mom gave him a plate of something. Chicken, it seemed. Tentatively he made a start and surprisingly it seemed to go much better than it usually did. In fact, it turned out he was pretty hungry and began to find himself eating with more gusto than usual. It was good chicken, but he didn't really care. It was just something his body was telling him to do and so he did it.

Unbeknownst to him, his mom noticed him not clattering or having trouble keeping himself steady that evening and nudged her husband out of his disinterest to make him look at his son. The two simply stared as the still scruffy and oddly shirtless but now – surprisingly - unbelievably calm boy ate his dinner quietly. They exchanged concerned looks at the sight of their son's sudden non-jitteriness.

"You want some coffee, sweetheart?" his mom asked uneasily, holding up the pot that had been sitting on the table.

"Coffee" he said blandly as his concentration was interrupted. "Yes. I like coffee"

Again, they exchanged concerned looks.

"Okay, kiddo, here you are" she said as she poured a cup and pushed it across the table towards her son. He stared at it for a moment once she'd pushed it within his reach and cocked his head slightly as he tried to make sense of the small vessel that now sat before him. After a few seconds, he reached for it and slowly picked it up before bringing it to his lips. It tasted good. The coffee they had in their house always tasted good though. They were connoisseurs of coffee. He didn't care though. It was warm and delicious but it was coffee, and he just could not pay it much heed.

Looking up momentarily, his eyes settled on the clock that hung above the door. It was 7PM. Straight away he turned back to his food without making a sound and that was the way the rest of the meal panned out. His parents continued to share worried looks but nothing was said. They had no idea what was going on and even less of an idea for how to handle it. It was weird, but a way different kind of weird to what they were used to.

Craig

A gentle, very quiet snore was emanating from Kenny as he lay sprawled out on the bed next to Craig. He himself remained sitting and propped up against the wall, just staring down at his knees in the dim light of his friend's bedroom. The moonshine had really taken its full effect now and his whole head was swimming as he thought about his situation. He could almost feel the cheap, disgusting booze pumping through his veins and he had no idea why anyone would get drunk on something so vile when there were so many better drinks upon which to get buzzed. Still, it was Kenny, and he didn't really expect anything less.

He thought about the things he and Kenny had gotten up to over the years. He thought about the first time they had snagged some bourbon from the collection of bottles his dad kept on a high shelf in his kitchen at home. They had only been about fourteen at the time, and Tweek had freaked out as they'd snuck off to the park and attempted to drink what they'd scored. Of course, neither one of them had had any kind of tolerance at that age and both he and Kenny had gotten pretty sick off of it. Tweek had indeed gone completely one flew over the cuckoo's nest when they'd starting ailing from the drink and had run around in a panic as he tried to figure out what to do. Craig had been in no state to help him at that moment but he had nonetheless managed to calm down on his own after a little while and managed to help them both get back to his house. After helping Kenny to the bathroom and sticking his head into the toilet, Tweek had sat in his bed and gently comforted him as he whined about the world turning around him and promising he'd never drink again. Although the memories of that particular instance weren't completely clear, he distinctly remembered looking up at his boyfriend at the time and seeing him smile gently and silently promising him he'd look after him. He knew he'd always remember the sight of those troubled but kind blue eyes that had stared back at him and whenever he was sad or nervous he always thought about that time and felt better.

He thought about it now. He thought about those beautiful eyes that had been making him feel better for the best part seven years and sighed sorrowfully as he held the image in his mind's eye. He thought about that ragged but lovely blonde hair that he always snuggled into at night, and those twitchy, shaky arms that always clung onto him whenever their owner was afraid – which, incidentally, was most of the time. He thought about everything to do with his boyfriend and turbulently mulled every single aspect of where they stood now. He really wished he had Tweek with him so he could talk about it. Actually, he really wished he had Tweek there so he could feel better. If he hadn't already felt lousy enough, the cheap liquor he'd shared with Kenny hadn't helped him at all. He now felt worse than ever and desperately wished he hadn't drunk so much.

Not knowing if it was the alcohol or his emotional state or both, he felt the unmistakeable sting of tears in his eyes once again as he gripped the sheet beneath him and tried to deny it. He hated crying. He didn't do it. It just wasn't him and he never let anyone see him crying – not even Tweek. That was an emotional realm he simply shut off from even himself with a huge, impenetrable wall and he hated whenever something from the other side forced its way through. Still, in his drunkenness his normal defences were massively inhibited and he couldn't deny his emotions their right to show themselves.

He missed Tweek so much, but it had only been a few hours since he'd last seen him. How was it possible that in such a short time and with things left so unclear that he actually missed him? Pulling out his phone, he looked at the screen and saw the time: '11:07'. Jesus, had it really been that long? It sure didn't feel like time had been going that fast, although he had been sitting alone for a while now since Kenny had passed out. Perhaps when he had sunken that far down into his pit of self-pity and despair that time became more fluid. With another sigh, he unlocked his phone and navigated to his photos. There were hundreds of pictures in his library that he'd never really taken the time to put on his computer. They were all pretty disorganised and there were all sorts of things he had pictures of. Of course, many of them were of himself and Tweek and it made him smile to see them sitting together in a whole bunch of selfies. Tweek always looked pretty jittery, but that was just him. He looked at himself and noticed how happy he seemed. The images of them just sitting there and staring up at the camera as he held it just seemed right and he felt kind of sad as he looked at picture after picture of the same thing. Did he even have that anymore? Did they?

God, he wanted Tweek. He wanted him so badly. He didn't know what he wanted to do with this whole open relationship thing, but he did know he wanted his boyfriend. He needed to feel okay, whatever that meant now. He needed to feel like he was in a safe place and that everything was going to be okay. He just needed him.

Fumbling in his pocket for a moment, he felt the sharp spikes of his keys and haphazardly yanked them out as he stumbled off of the bed. Looking back for a second at his friend as he steadied himself, he noticed Kenny looking no more conscious than he had for at least the last hour and huffed as he turned towards the door once again. He groaned angrily as he tried to force his brain to function and kicked himself mentally for getting drunk off his ass twice in two days. Jutting forward, he did his best to remain upright as he headed for the front door and snarled with aggravation as he struggled with the handle. Once in the hall, he supported himself the best he could against the wall as he made his way towards the outside and barely noticed Kenny's parents as he stumbled through the living room and yanked open the front door. It seemed they were either unconscious too or simply didn't care, and he discarded the thought of them as soon as the cold air bit him as he stood on the doorstep. Picking up his head, he stared across the dark yard and coughed gently as his eyes landed on his car at the kerb. This was a bad idea. A really, really bad, stupid, completely irresponsible idea.

Fuck it He didn't care. He needed Tweek. Shaking his head to try and gain some clarity, he began to pace through the snow towards the snow-covered vehicle.

Tweek

He lay in his bed staring up at the ceiling. He didn't really remember everything that had happened that evening. There had been food at some point, but everything around that seemed kind of blurry. He remembered taking a shower as well and had at some point gotten into some pyjamas. Now he found himself in bed just staring and feeling somewhat less floaty than he had earlier. He was still kind of out of it but it had now become more of a peacefulness than a high. His whole body just felt still and his mind felt almost entirely untroubled. Sure, thoughts about Craig and their relationship had never really left him, but they still weren't hurting like they had several hours ago.

Suddenly remembering, he furrowed his brow as he thought about that weird text Cartman had sent him earlier. What the hell had that been about, and why had he offered his condolences? Why the hell should he care about him and Craig? Well, if experience was anything to go by then it surely meant there was some plot to dick on the both of them fairly soon and he just didn't feel like worrying about that right now. Cartman was just as irrelevant to him now as he always had been.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and figured there was nothing left to do but sleep. Perhaps things would seem different in the morning. Hell, maybe he'd actually feel something then because he certainly didn't feel anything right now. Breathing slowly and peacefully, he felt himself becoming even freer from strife and found his thoughts becoming fewer and further between.

He didn't know how long he'd been laying there before he heard a bang come from somewhere. Suddenly but without shock, he opened his eyes and listened. There was silence now but he was sure he'd heard a loud bang just a few seconds ago. Was it just a hallucination in this swirly, drug-addled twilight state he found himself in, or had it actually happened?

A second later, he heard a scuffling coming from the window and gently pushed himself up on his elbows and then onto his knees. Delicately reaching up to the glass, he leaned up and looked out into the darkness, wondering what on earth, if anything, was happening. With squinted eyes he looked down into his front yard and saw a blinding light. It hurt as he tried to look past the blazing beam that shot up at him and, with a little persuasion, he managed to focus his eyes on the scuffling that was taking place just to the side. A moment later, he realised that the light shining up at him was in fact two lights, and then discovered that they were indeed the headlights of a car – or rather the high beams. Then something lurched where he'd just noticed the scuffling and in an instant, something landed in the snow next to the car. Next to whatever it was were the remains of his mailbox and then he noticed the familiar blue chullo hat with the yellow bobble on the top that belonged to his boyfriend. It was clear now. That was Craig's car sitting propped up across the sidewalk and on top of his destroyed mailbox, and that mass in the snow that was rolling around pitifully was Craig.

Immediately jumping out of bed with a thankfully clearer head than earlier, he quickly burst out of his room as his parents were just coming out of theirs at the sudden commotion and barrelled past them so he could be the first one outside. As he ripped open the front door, he shot across the snow-covered lawn whilst trying to ignore the freezing snow on his bare feet and fell down in icy grass in front of the idling vehicle before pulling its less-than-clear-headed driver up off of his belly.

"Craig!" he yelled with less desperation than usual on account of the meds still pumping through his system but still with deep concern. "Craig, can you hear me?"

"Yeah" he mumbled groggily.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No"

"You crashed though. And you fell down. Are you sure?"

"I slipped on the fucking sidewalk" he sneered as he looked up to meet Tweek's fraught gaze. "I crashed?"

"Yes" replied Tweek, suddenly getting a face full of boozy breath from the boy that clung to him. "Have you…been drinking?"

"I needed to see you" he said pitifully before pushing himself up further and resting on his knees. "It's fucking cold out here"

Tweek delicately put him on his feet before carefully walking him towards the house and did his best to calm his parents who began to fuss in astonishment at the situation they came across as they came out to see what was going on. Leaving them to deal with the mess Craig had made in the front yard, he gingerly walked him up the stairs, catching him several times as he stumbled on the steps before they got to the top, and paced him down that hall towards his room. Getting him across to his bed, he let him fall onto the mattress and just looked at the sight before him. Craig was as drunk as a skunk and looked like he was just about ready to pass out.

"Craig, what were you thinking?" Tweek asked wistfully, finding it odd all of a sudden that even a tiny fleck of emotion had broken through his haze. All he got in reply was a groan and a hiccup as the blue-clad boy beneath him straightened out his body and then huffed in exasperation. Shaking his head, he climbed over his fuzzy boyfriend and pulled him close as he lay down next to him. Gently he pulled the covers over them and rested his arm across the inebriate he was now clearly going to share his bed with for the night. With no clue what to think, he just stared as Craig rapidly descended into unconsciousness and wondered what on earth any of this meant. Were they still dating? Were they now dating less than they had been but still doing the same things as before? Were they now only semi-dating with this being an extenuating circumstance? What even was this? Why hadn't they discussed this more? Why was everything so unclear?

And, ultimately, why did he still not really care?

The Xanax. Of course. Until these damn pills were out of his body there was no way he was going to be able to find any answers. So, with that in mind, he closed his eyes and rested his head on Craig's shoulder, trying to ignore the reeking smell of booze.

Just as he was dozing off, he heard a gentle murmur come from the body next to him and half-opened his eyes in curiosity.

"Tweek" it groaned quietly, "You're so great" he heard Craig say.

He screwed his eyes shut.

What the hell was going on?

Think I overdid the 'oh noez, I don't know how I feelz' stuff? Well, whaddayagonnado? They're all conflicted and stuff! I wanna stroke both their hair and tell them it'll be alright, despite it probably not going to be alright. WE'LL SEE!

Reviews, yo! All y'all reviewers are da bomb! WeTheFallen, Sarah, Spice of Life and PurrpleSuki, you are all stunning and brave! Thanks a bunch for your nice messages. Keep 'em coming folks! Lemme know what you think! x