A/N: Uggh, okay, so I know this chapter is beyond short and like so far from epic it's ridiculous, and I'm sorry... I'm already working on the next one and I promise it's going to be so much better than this skuddy one.

Token left Craig's house not long after, he and Clyde first promising to keep quiet about Craig's vow to talk to Tweek. Clyde hung back, but Token was too frustrated with Craig's "dumbassness" (as he put it) to stay around him much longer. He told Clyde he'd meet him at Tweek's and left, muttering things under his breath.

Craig turned the TV back on and started going through the channels. Clyde sat beside him on the couch without waiting for an invitation; he was pretty sure, now, that he was going to leave the Nommel house unharmed. There was no question that of the two of them, Tweek looked worse, but Craig's appearance was far from perfect as well. His eyes weren't red the way Tweek's were; crying wasn't Craig's thing, Clyde knew. But there were dark circles under Craig's eyes, and his shoulders were slumped, like something heavy was pushing down on him from above. He just looked less like Craig. He'd lost his self-assured-to-the-point-of-being-an-arrogant-asshole cockiness, though he'd done a damn good job of faking it. But looking at Craig now, as he sunk into the couch and pointed the remote control at the television, all Clyde saw, surrounding his friend, was misery.

"You know we're going to Tweek's," he said, hesitantly. "You could come too."

Craig shook his head, his eyes never leaving the TV screen, and said flatly, "I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"But—"

"I have to tell Thomas," Craig interrupted. He gripped the remote control so hard Clyde could see his hand turning white from the pressure.

"Oh," Clyde said intelligently. Then, "Do you, you know... Do you like him, like, that, really?"

Craig didn't answer. Clyde chewed on his thumbnail, grateful that at least he hadn't gotten punched for asking the question. The room was silent except for the millisecond-long sound clips that escaped the TV as the channels sped by.

"He was safe."

Clyde glanced sideways at Craig, unsure if he'd actually heard him say something or if he'd imagined it. Craig's expression was neutral, and Clyde was about to conclude that he was just insane, and hearing voices in his head, when Craig spoke again.

"I had control. I don't—didn't—have control, with Tweeker."

Clyde nodded slowly, noticing Craig's use of his special nickname for their blond friend. "You really love him, don't you?"

The shadow of a smirk crossed Craig's lips, and he almost looked like himself again, but just for a second. He didn't answer the question, but he didn't have to; the answer was obvious. When he turned his head to look at Clyde, the brunet was shocked at the vulnerability in Craig's eyes. It freaked him out. Craig was the toughest guy Clyde had ever known; the weakness he saw in his friend's eyes was unnatural.

"I'm a dumbass."

Clyde stayed quiet, sensing that Craig had something else he wanted to say.

"He might not want to talk to me."

Now Clyde gave Craig a look of incredulity. "Dude, you serious?"

Craig shrugged. ""I wouldn't want to talk to me."

"You are a dumbass." Clyde shook his head. "Tweek would do anything to have you back, man. You didn't see him yesterday."

Silence again. Craig set the remote control down, having settled on watching an old Seinfeld rerun. Clyde looked from his friend to the TV, and sighed, leaning back on the couch. He stayed with Craig until the episode was over, and then he stood and walked over to the front door. Just as he was about to leave, he heard Craig say, "Hey."

Clyde glanced over. Craig was looking at him. The black-haired boy nodded slightly and said, "Thanks, man."

Clyde nodded back, and left the house. He felt awful for both of his friends, although a part of him still wanted to kick Craig for letting Tweek suffer for Craig's fear. The two boys obviously needed each other. Not being together made both of them lose pieces of themselves, the pieces that made them who they were. Craig just wasn't Craig without his twitching blond, and Tweek needed the black-haired boy more than the coffee he drank religiously.

Pulling out his cell phone to call Token and let him know he was on his way, Clyde looked up at the sky and wished that time would hurry up and make it tomorrow already.

... ... ...

Tweek followed Stan downstairs. Stan had suggested they go down and watch TV for awhile while they waited for Token and Clyde. He was still holding the black T-shirt, and so lost in thoughts of Craig that he ran right into Stan at the bottom of the stairs.

"Ngh!" He almost fell backwards. "Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry!"

Stan hadn't even noticed. He was too busy grinning at Kenny and Kyle on the couch, who had jumped away from each other at Tweek's shout. Kyle was blushing like crazy, but Kenny just smiled happily and said, "Hey, guys." He reached over and pulled Kyle closer to him, ruffling the redhead's curls.

"Smooth." Stan raised an eyebrow at Kyle, who refused to look him in the eye for longer than half a second. He snickered, then glanced behind him and Tweek; the blond was staring at Kenny and Kyle with wide eyes. "I told you Kenny would be fine."

Tweek's gaze moved quickly from Kenny to Kyle and back again. They were together now? Really? He'd been surprised enough by Kenny's not-entirely-straightness, but Kyle? It had been two days, and already almost everything familiar in Tweek's life had been turned upside down. He felt like he should care more than he did that Kenny had Kyle now; that he should be more jealous, but he wasn't. He'd liked Kenny, really, he had, but... Kenny wasn't Craig. Nobody could replace Craig. If Tweek couldn't have him...he'd rather be alone, and miserable. He hugged the T-shirt to his chest. Kenny looked at him, a question in his blue eyes, and Tweek nodded, somehow managing a small smile. Kenny smiled back. Yes, Tweek was okay with Kenny being with Kyle. Judging by the way Kyle looked at Kenny, that was the way it was supposed to be.

Token interrupted the moment by arriving then, and knocking on the door. At the news of Kyle and Kenny's newfound togetherness, he just smiled and shook his head, in an oh-Kenny, sort of way.

"Clyde's on his way," he said. "He was just...finishing doing the dishes. But he should be here soon."

"Okay." Stan started to move towards the couch, but Token caught his eye and nodded in the direction of the kitchen. Stan blinked.

"I'm going to go get a drink. You want some coffee, Tweek?" Token asked.

"Yes – yes, please." Tweek twitched, nearly falling, and sat down on the stairs.

"Uh," said Stan as Token passed him, on his way to the kitchen. "I'm getting a drink too. You guys want anything?" he asked Kenny and Kyle. They both shook their heads. Stan shrugged and followed Token.

The other boy was pouring water into the Tweak's coffee machine. Stan opened the fridge and grabbed a can of Coke. Popping it open he said, "'Kay, so what's up?"

"Clyde and I went to Craig's," Token said quietly.

"What?" Stan set the Coke down on the table with a thunk. "What happened?"

"He's pretty fucked up," said Token, rolling his eyes. "But so not over Tweek." Keeping his voice down so Tweek wouldn't hear him from the other room, he told Stan about his and Clyde's discovery about Craig's true feelings.

"Wow," said Stan when Token had finished. "Craig was scared?"

"Yeah, I know." Token flicked the switch that would turn the coffeemaker on.

"You think he'll actually talk to him tomorrow?"

Token crossed the room to the fridge and pulled out a drink for himself, a can of Sprite. Stan had that tone... "You have an idea?"

"I think I just might." Stan studied the Coke can absently, lost in his own thoughts. "Grab Kyle and Kenny. We'll need them for this."

... ... ...

Craig flipped his cell phone open and stared at the screen for a few minutes. He sighed, locating the number in his list of contacts and pushing the SEND key. Four rings, and then someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Craig? Shit!" Thomas blurted out on the other end of the line.

"Yeah. What time are you getting back tonight?"

"I – cock! – I don't know. Seven?" His voice was muffled.

Craig stared up at his ceiling. He could almost see Thomas covering his mouth. "Can you come over later?"

There was a pause, and then Thomas said hesitantly, "I don't know if—"

"I just need to talk to you," said Craig, knowing what Thomas thought he wanted.

"Oh. Well – shit! – I guess I could."

"See you later." Craig hung up without waiting for Thomas's reply. In the back of his mind he knew he should be more concerned about what he was going to say to the other boy, how to explain things to him without being an asshole, but the only person he could think about was Tweek. Little monsoons started churning around in his stomach as he pictured his jittery caffeine-dependent blond. Yes, his. Tweek belonged to him, and he belonged to Tweek. As much as the idea of giving himself completely to someone else freaked him out, he knew that it was true. He'd fucked that up and it was the only thing in his life he ever regretted doing.

But he was going to fix it. No matter what it took.