Chapter Twenty-Five: Summer Daze Drifting Away

The sound of someone stumbling in the hall awakens me. No need to be so fucking loud, guys.

"I hurt all over." Tweek muffles into the pillow he's resting on. I guess he heard the noise too. He's on his stomach with his face in his pillow and his limbs tangled in the Black's guest bedroom's generic blue sheets.

"I can't imagine why." I sit up and grab my throbbing head. "Come on." I grab Tweek's shoulder to flip him over to his back.

"Where are we going?" He rubs his bloodshot eyes before looking to me.

"Food." I pause for a moment and take a good look at him. "You know, even when you look like complete shit, you look good."

"Gee, thanks." His hand scruffs through his blond hair before he rolls out of bed. We get dressed quickly enough, as quick as one can when they're this hung-over.

We make our way downstairs, slowly. I'm holding Tweek's hand to guide him since he appears to be in a complete daze. We pass by the room where I remember leaving Tommy. Shit, I should probably check on him. I pull Tweek into the room to find the ticing boy watching the television that was hidden inside a cabinet.

"Shit piss!" He shouts. Ow. My head.

"Hey, Tommy." He turns to look at us.

"Oh, hey guys. How was your night."

"Good, for the most part." I inwardly smile and glance to Tweek.

"What'd you guys do after I passed out? Fuck!" I bet that hurts his head more than it hurts mine.

"Well, we played spin the bottle."

"Damn bitch nose! Isn't that a little cliché?"

"Incredibly."

"Anything else? " I look over to Tweek, who's casually stretching. So cute.

"I'll talk to you about it later." I grab Tweek's hand again and we make our ways to the kitchen. Nothing need be said; we need, well, we want coffee and painkillers. I start searching for the Ibuprofen and Tweek makes the Joe. Fuck it, I want food. So, I go to the fridge instead.

"Morning, sleeping beauties!" Kenny cheerfully, and loudly, enters the kitchen.

"Shut the fuck up." Stan shoves Kenny out of the way with Kyle not far behind.

"Tweek, I wouldn't suggest that." Kenny grabs the cup of fresh coffee from the little guy's hands. Bad move.

"I don't care, give it back, asshole!" Tweek grabs for it halfheartedly.

"You need water." Tweek flips the taller blond off and pushes by him to take his advice.

"What's there to eat?" Kyle opens holds the other fridge door open beside me.

"Cold pizza, leftover Kraft Dinner, leftover pasta, and pie?" I grab the Tupperware with the pastry inside and lift an eyebrow.

"Dibs." Stan walks by and snatches it from my hand. What a dick. I pull out the pizza and throw it on the island in the middle of the kitchen and we all dig in.

"I know we all had a ton of pizza last night, but why is there, like, none left?" Kyle asks, confused.

"Clyde." The rest of us answer in unison.

~X~

"Drink lots of water and rest, for fuck's sake. And NO COFFEE." I explain to Tweek on his doorstep.

"Yeah, yeah. Go against everything I stand for in life. I got it." He rolls his large, contrasting eyes.

"See you later." I peck his lips and he closes the door. I look to Tommy, who I'm also walking home.

"Do you have anywhere to be today?" His shoulders roll back and his head snaps to the side and back a few times.

"Nope. Asshole! Faggot!" He shouts

"Come on." I lead him in the direction of my house.

"Thanks." He tells me after a few minutes of near silence.

"For what?"

"Bringing me to the party."

"Why the hell wouldn't I?"

"Cock!" He chuckles. "Cause stuff like that is embarrassing."

"You're wrong." I tell him without looking to him. Bro's don't need to look at each other when they talk. "You still don't fucking get it, do you?"

"Get what? Faggot cumslut!"

"Get that you have people who want you around." He remains silent for a moment while we walk.

"I appreciate everything you –SHIT! I appreciate everything you do for me, Craig. But I guess I just… I'm working on this friend thing again." We continue to walk in silence. We need privacy; I can't talk to him about everything out in public. I hate people.

"You want anything?" After noticing no other present shoes at the door, I head straight to the fridge for some OJ straight from the jug.

"Slut bag! No, I'm fine." I close the fridge with the jug in hand and turn back to Tommy. On his way past the counter his elbow spazzes and smashes into the corner. He seethes through his teeth and stops for a second.

"Fuck, you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Happens all the time." He sends me a lopsided grin and takes a seat at the table.

"Tweek and I did it last night." I tell him blatantly, like it's not a big deal. His face turns quickly to look up at me sitting across from him.

"FAGGOT! ASSFUCKING HOMOS!" He shouts. His hands fly up to cover his mouth in regret. "Sorry! It's cool, really! Um, that's, uh, great for you guys!" He attempts to cover up his tic.

"Tommy, I know you don't think I notice, but I know more about you than you think I do." His tired eyes look up to me while he holds his hands in his lap. "I know you don't swear. I know you're one of the sweetest guys around. That's why you're like a brother to me. You are not your tourettes." A small smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

"Dicklicker!" He smirks. "Thanks. Really." His fist flies up to pound table. "Um, so are you guys really serious?" I shrug. I haven't actually ever been asked that.

"I think so."

"What you mean you think so?" He laughs.

"I dunno, I guess we are. I don't really see myself leaving him any time soon or anything. He means a lot to me, you know?" I take another gulp of citrus awesomeness during our awkward silence. I'm trying really hard here to talk about my feelings.

"That's cool. Dick-tit! How long has it been now?"

"I dunno like…" I count on my fingers. "Six months I guess. Almost seven."

"Awesome."

"Yup." I take another swig. "Did you enjoy your night?"

"Shit! Um, Yeah, it was fun. I wish I wouldn't have fallen asleep, but I guess my body just couldn't handle the meds and the drinks."

"It was good of your to, like, stop when you did."

He shrugs. "I know my -Asshole! I know my limit."

"I'm, uh, I'm sorry for pushing you."

"No, no you didn't! I was glad to be there at all! And it's great having Tweek around, too. He worries about the same things as me."

"Well, heworries about everything, so, chances are..." I snort and close the cap of the jug.

"Yeah –Spazz fuck! He's a good guy, though."

"I'm glad you guys get along a well as you do."

"Yah." We sit there for a moment. "Wanna go watch a movie?"

"Ass! Sounds good." We leave the kitchen to go down to the den to probably watch some Big Bang or something, since Tommy likes the show, too.

~X~

"See you in a few days, Tucker."

"For sure. Thanks again for the Harbucks today, Brenda." I grab my paper cup I left on the bookstore counter from a few hours ago to throw out.

"You know, you can call me Bree. And recycle that!" I smirk.

"Whatever you say, boss." I toss the paper cup into the blue bin by the door and make my exit.

I hadn't even noticed the clouds. The blinds in that place are never open. Hm, looks like this is going to be quite the storm. The thunder is already rumbling through the streets gently and in the distance sparks illuminate the bland, grey sky.

…It's okay, there's nothing wrong with thinking like a poet every once in a while, Tucker.

I love thunderstorms. Its rare South Park ever get's them because it's never really hot enough to produce one here. Right now, I'm soooo happy. I've decided to enjoy the light show and the thunder that rolls across my senses and causes my house to tremor at our bay window. Thank you to Global Warming for creating the humidity from the melting ice off the mountains. Fan-fucking-tastic.

I pull my knees to my chest and rest my chin. I wonder if Tweek is enjoying this. Come to think of it, I don't think Tweek would enjoy this at all. Actually, he's probably giving himself a hernia just thinking about all the ways the storm could kill him. It could flood his house. Or the lightning could shut the power off and he'll trip down the stairs and die. Or the thunder could rattle the house enough to break the glass light-covers and the shards could impale him and…. Okay. I've been spending WAY too much time with that kid.

God, I want him here with me. I feel it all of the time. My hand feels incomplete without his hand in it. My chest is cold unless he's pressed against it. My shoulder even feels naked unless his head is resting on it. God, I've fallen so fucking hard for this kid. This storm is probably terrifying him. I need to see him.

"Alright," I mumble as I stand and fix my shirt. "I better get over there."

~X~

I love walking in the rain. The weather is a little too exciting for my taste, but it makes me feel bland. It's weird, I know. I approach the coffee coloured house when I start to hear something. There's shouting coming from the house. Suddenly, the door flies open and I can clearly hear Mr. Tweak shouting from the doorway. I dash to hide beside the house to remain unseen and find out just what the hell is going on.

"Fine! I'll take my business elsewhere, Stacy!"

"Take your life elsewhere, too, Richard!"

"Maybe I will!"

"Fine!" She shouts.

"Fine!" He shouts back.

"Fine!" With that, Mr. Tweak slams the door and stomps to his car and leaves the driveway.

Well that is truly an intelligent fight. What the hell happened? Shit, with the storm and his parents fighting, Tweek must be a fucking wreck! Once Mr. Tweak is down the street and out of sight, I head over to the door and let myself in. Mrs. Tweak is in the kitchen sitting at their wooden table. She's hunched over a cup of coffee, no surprise, with her head in her hand. I take off to Tweek's room and notice there are a few lamps and books thrown on the ground, along with all of the coffee makers broken in various places around the house.

"Tweek!" I run into his room and look around. This place is a fucking disaster! I find Tweek hiding in the corner, his keens to his chest, crying, and pulling his hair out.

"Tweek," I get on my knees in front of him and grasp his shoulders.

"GAH!" Tweek buries his head in his knees. How the hell am I supposed to comfort him? Why the hell am I always the person comforting people!

"Th-this is all my fault!" I hear him yell.

"Tweek, this isn't-"

"They're fighting because of me!" He interrupts me and looks up into my eyes. I remain silent and let him continue. Not that I really have a choice.

"They're f-fighting over me going to university and, and then it l-lead to my dad's business, and h-how my m-mom thinks it's a lost cause, and th-then back to me t-taking it over, and how my mom doesn't want me too, and then the th-thunder and the l-l-lightening on top of all that! THEY'REGOINGTOKILLME!" His fingernails have nearly pierced the skin of their opposite arms, which are crossed across his legs.

"I don't want to fucking d-die, Craig! Th-they're going to sell me and I'm going to be raped and traded and sh-shot, man! Jesus Christ! This is all so much-" I slap him in the face before he can say 'pressure!'.

"Tweek," I look straight at his shocked face. My composure remains calm/bored as always. "Listen to me, Tweek." I cup his sore face. "Your parents problems don't have to be your own. You're your own person." His mismatched eyes search my eyes desperately. Suddenly, he falls over and wraps his arms around my chest. For a few moments, all he does is cry against my shoulder. I could care less that he's getting my shirt wet. This is the feeling that makes me physically feel complete.

"C-craig," Tweek sniffles after a while of crying.

"Mhm?"

"Y-you're going to come with me, right?" I tilt my head so we're face to face.

"Go with you where, Tweekers?"

"Away f-from here… When we're d-done school…" Now, I could say how we're young and naïve, and it's too soon to determine anything past about a month since our worlds are always changing and nothing is absolute in our ignorant lives, and so on.

OR…

"Yeah." I peck his lips gently. "I'll follow you anywhere you want to go, Tweekers." His grip on me tightens, so I do the same. If I fall any deeper into this hole I've gotten myself into… Fuck it. I've fallen so far there's no fucking way I'll EVER get out. And you know what, I don't mind. At all.

A/N Actually, I have very little to say here.

I hope there are people who still enjoy this story.

Since there was a lack of complaints, and this is SOUTH PARK, let me remind you in case anyone has forgotten, the previous chapter will remain the same unless more people care. (Actually according to certain laws of statistics, and a few simple calculations, ~ 23% of the readers of the last chapter disliked it. Sorry to let you ~23% down).

Anyways, you know what, maybe I'll have more than 30 chapters. Who knows.

MY STORY, MY RULES.

Please do remember that, my valued readers. :3 I love you all and hope you all continue reading this.