TRIGGER WARNING

I've been in the hospital for two days now. I'll skip the boring fillers. I may have gone off the deep end this time. It's not as bad as I thought it'd be when I first came to in a hospital bed. I thought my parents finally did it and committed me to the crazy house. But I'm just in the mental health wing of Hell's Pass which is something I never thought I'd see as relieving.

I've been really high the whole time I've been here which is why I've been able to keep so cool… which is also probably why they've made sure I've been high this whole time.

I don't know where Craig is or if he's okay. Token and Clyde and or Craig have not come in to visit me. Who knows if they even know I'm here or that I'm not home. Even though I don't have my phone and I haven't spoken to any of them. Who knows if they even care… Clyde was pretty upset and I guess he's justified in that. I guess. But, dammit, if I don't have a right to be pissed off as well. Why wouldn't they tell me something like that? Why wouldn't Craig? He was probably embarrassed. You know what? I don't care that he didn't tell me he tried to kill himself once, I care that he didn't tell me he was thinking about it again.

I could've helped him.

Maybe.

Fuck, this is all my fault. I start crying again. I've been crying a lot here. I figure, since I'm already here I can be as weird as I really am. Well, not really. I don't want to end up here forever, but I don't think they'd be too concerned about my quick burst emotional breakdowns since I'm a teen and mentally unstable.

Plus, here, everyone is so fucking nice. Because, here, we're all fucked up. There are the depressed people, the crazies, the old people, and the super nice nurses which is a shock because the nurses in the other wings of the hospital are so evil.

And every time I cry someone I probably don't even know will come up and pat my back and tell me everything is okay and will be okay. It's so comforting. I've never felt so supported.

Regardless, I need to get the hell out of here. It's nice but I can't stay here. It encourages my crazy.

Craig's gone. He's gone. My parent's hate who I am and I wish I could be someone they were proud of. I wish I didn't do so many drugs. I wish I hadn't punched the shit out of my dad and ended up here. I wish I had been there for Craig. I wish I had been there for Wendy. I even wish Clyde liked me. I feel like if I ever get out of here and everything works out, I'll make a better effort at being a human.

And the receptionist lady won't tell me Craig's room number. I know he's here. And I know she knows where he is, I can tell. Where else would he be unless he got better and was discharged? But since it was attempted suicide I highly doubt he's out a day later. He might not even be awake. If he is then he's probably being evaluated and shit. That sucks.

However, I relay this to Martha and while she looks sympathetic, insist that she can't tell me because of privacy and I'm not family. Probably realistically, it's because she thinks I'm crazy. But I'm pretty damn determined.

She's not mean. Martha's nice, got a son in elementary. He plays the piano. I tell her all about Craig and my friends or my... 'close acquaintances'. I tell her about my parents and my art. She seems engaged but you never know with these people. They're good at playing these parts. Mental health nurses, I mean. For the most part, I'll add as well.

Then I tell her about what happened because I've been telling everyone in the hospital who will listen. I think I'm coping but it doesn't feel like it. Maybe I'm forcing myself to try to cope. It isn't working but I'm still trying. If I don't I'll lose it again but the medication wouldn't let me.

I keep going back to Friday before Craig and I went home. That day I hadn't kissed him because we were at school. I didn't even hug him, or say goodbye now that I think about it. We talked about the test he took in biology and how he hates his teacher and biology and high school and tests. I told him biology was easy and that's when Craig found out I was on honor roll. It was pretty funny. When I smile thinking about it I immediately follow it with a frown. I shouldn't be smiling. It's not that there's nothing to be happy about, but there's more (much more) to make it so I would never be happy again- or at least, for a very long time.

Anyways, Craig and Clyde went on about how they both thought I was really dumb and Clyde had actually thought I was failing because I always walk out of class. But I have a better grade in that class than he does so there. We laughed after that. And then Craig and I made fun of Clyde for being a dumbass. Token and I made fun of Craig and Clyde and claimed to be superior. We laughed more. I told Craig I'd help him with biology and then we just left. I walked home. Craig left with Clyde and Token.

But what if I had left with Craig that day? What if we had gone home together? And I convinced him to stay the night? Then we'd just be waking up right now probably. We'd maybe smoke, watch a movie, or hangout. It wouldn't matter.

What if I had called Craig later that day? Just to talk to him? What if I had gone to his house after seeing Clyde? I should've just gone. It would've been so easy to just walk to his house. It wasn't much farther than my home. Maybe a little bit but it wouldn't matter.

What if I had gone when he stopped replying? Craig doesn't sleep. But I was actually tired... Still, I'd rather be exhausted with Craig.

Oh jeez, I'm crying again.

A woman doctor enters my room with a clipboard. She looks friendly but I'm not happy to see her. "Hello, mister Tweek, how are we feeling?"

"High," I say.

She kinda chuckles but it's awkward. She starts writing and my eye twitches. "Well, we're crying," she notes. "Wanna talk about that?"

"I'm in the hospital because I've been pronounced, 'unstable'. My boyfriend might be dead and Martha doesn't even give a shit. And," I say. "My parents probably hate me so... yep. Peachy."

It's quiet. She doesn't say anything because she's still writing. I clench my jaw and try to not grind my teeth but I do it anyways. What the fuck is she writing? She should just be listening. It makes me think she doesn't really care about how 'we're' doing. And she keeps saying we. How are we feeling? We're crying. 'We're' nothing. She's a doctor with a lot of money and probably a relatively easy life.

"Okay," she says. "Well, it seems like your current prescription is low... I'm just gonna up your dosage and then check back in a few weeks to see how we're doing. And if that doesn't work we'll try another medication. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like bullshit," I blurt out. "They weren't working because I wasn't taking them. So how about we not up my dosage? Yeah, we won't do that," I decide.

She raises her eyebrows at me and then continues writing. "Quit it," I tell her crossly.

"I'm only writing down informa-"

"You're writing that I'm crazy because I don't like taking pills that make me feel like not myself and it's bullshit. It's all bullshit," this comes out louder than I meant to and I briefly think that maybe I shouldn't be raising my voice. They already think I'm bat shit and angry. But I can't help it. I can't stop once I'm mad. I know it's not a big deal but I'm fuming. She doesn't even know me. No one here does. They wanna sum me up in ten minutes where I'm nervous anyways because I know what they're doing and then they think I'm worse than I am. I feel like they tell me I'm worse than I am. And how could they be helping?

"Please, Tweek," she glances over her shoulder, "calm down."

That does it. Before I know what I'm doing, the clipboard hits the wall next to the window. Because I threw it. Fuck.

"I don't wanna have to sedate you, Tweek," she says. "So, I'm going to come back later. And let you think."

My chest rises and falls too quickly. I hate getting worked up. This is why I never used to talk to people. Otherwise I wouldn't be sitting in this hospital. But I can't help but wonder if Craig still would be...

And then I'm crying again. Full force. It hurts and I can't really breathe right. I sound ugly too. But I just feel so insignificant and nothing. I feel like nothing.

Now I'm thinking about Craig sitting on his penny board in an empty pool. Blue light reflecting off his face. He looked so beautiful then. How did I not kiss him right there? I wonder if he's been feeling this way since back then...

Another embarrassingly loud sob.

I wanna go home. I wanna be with Craig. And I want him to be okay. I want to finish school, walk the stage, hop in a car the same day, and leave with Craig. I don't care if he wants to move to Australia or Alaska. I'd go with him anywhere.

I cry as long as my body will let me. Which is surprisingly a very long time. When I'm finished, I wipe my face down with water in the bathroom but my eyes are red, puffy, and tired-looking. I don't care.

I start wandering again. In the hospital has turned out to be the best place to wander. There are so many people. And not the scary kind of people like at school or in town. Messed up people who don't care what you look like, if your hair sticks up crazily or your forearms are covered in scars from your wrist to your elbow. They're so interesting. In the best way. The stories I've heard in one day alone. These people have been everywhere, done everything, experienced some crazy shit.

I go straight to the vending machine; my holy savor. Their food is shit here and I refuse to eat it. It's too suspicious and I don't like food I haven't watched be prepared, except my mom. She's cool. Please don't cry again.

I get a Reese's and open it in front of the machine. I watch the people pass by in their scrubs. I wish I weren't here right now. I shove the whole peanut butter cup in my mouth.

I turn around. I was hoping to find the stairwell. I heard it was this way but instead I find a strawberry blonde fourteen year old girl with fresh pink braces.

We stare at each other. I pop the last Reese's in my mouth. This is sufficiently awkward.

She steps forward slowly until we're only two feet from each other. "Tweek," she greets.

"Um, Ruby..." I glance at a corner.

It's quiet. I wish I weren't here. She sizes me. "Figures you two would go off the deep end together too," she says, absentmindedly. "Why are you in here?"

"Well," I start. "When I found out Craig was here- had been here- I flipped. Ended up punching my dad in the face... So..." I leave out the part about being bipolar even though it really ties the story together. Otherwise it doesn't really make much sense why punching my dad would land me in the mental wing of the hospital.

She nods slowly. "What did you hear about Craig?"

I blink at her, wondering why she's talking to me and why she's not blaming me. And what's with this question. Seems suspicious, if you ask me. "Not a lot," I say honestly. She stares at me the same way Craig does. It's almost equivalent to them saying something now that I've known him a while. It means she's reading me and understands something I didn't even verbally tell her. But since she says nothing I tell her that the most of what I know is he overdosed and probably on purpose, I think.

She nods, "Yeah." This does not sufficiently answer anything. If he had overdosed or if he did it on purpose. But, that's a Tucker for you. "It wasn't that bad. He's good now- well, you know, he's awake and stuff..."

"Oh," I say. "Good." This is awkward. It's so awkward. But Ruby doesn't move.

"Do you really like my brother?" She mumbles. Just like Craig. Worse than Craig even, but since I'm used to Craig I'm able to pick it up.

"I love him," I blurt out before realizing I'm talking to the same little sister who called Craig an abomination.

She stares at me again, with no real expression. She glances away. "Mm," she hums with a nod.

"Do you like your brother?" I wonder.

She's nods, "I love him... It's just... confusing." I like her choice of words.

"I'm sure if you talked to him it'd be less confusing."

"Yeah right," she says. I laugh and she smiles kind of I guess. "I don't want Craig to think his family hates him... for who he is," she finishes. "And," she says. "I've noticed how he's been lately... It's all my fault," she mumbles again, quieter, with a hint of sadness.

I get goosebumps because that's been my line since I got Clyde's texts. But somehow hearing Ruby say this makes me say, "I don't think there's anything anyone could've done." And I know I'm right but, I can't tell if I believe it myself.

Ruby stares off into the distance. She's probably blaming herself. She's probably remembering things she said or did. She's probably thinking about everything she could've done differently. "Even if there were," I say. "You have to just let it go. It happened. But, at least he's still here with us, right?" She nods. "By the way, you wouldn't happen to know where his room is?"

"Of course I know where his fucking room is, dumbass." Jesus Christ, she's exactly like him.

"Can you tell me what number it is?" I can't help but think that if I were me from a few months ago, Ruby would be making me shit my pants right now. The Tucker clan is scary, for sure. But they're a bunch of frauds. Just like Craig.

Ruby thinks and sighs. "I guess," she decides. I'm so annoyed by how she says this. As if she would really tell me no with the circumstances. "It's 614," she tells me. "But I'd probably wait until we leave to reunite with him and... do whatever you two do."

"Is he... okay? Like, mentally?"

Ruby shrugs. "Craig's weird." She shakes her head. "Just talk to him," she says. "I gotta go back now... Bye." She walks past me. I watch her leave.

Now I'm standing in the hall again with people passing me. People in scrubs, some in gowns, and others casually dressed. I spend my last dollar on another Reese's.

I know Ruby said I should wait and she's right and I will but... I can't risk going all the way back to my room and waiting and checking. What if they leave right as I get back? Then Craig will be alone. And I'll be wasting time. I want to see him. So I go the hall his room is in and I stand at the end that doesn't lead to the exit. That's probably the way they'll go. And I'll just stakeout his room until I see them leave.

I sit in an empty waiting area and sketch an ugly bird. It was supposed to be a woodpecker but instead it looks like a mutated robin. Every time I hear a door open, I check the hall.

Craig's parents take forever. I realize that maybe they don't really wanna leave him alone either. But it's getting late anyways so like, don't they have a curfew for visitation? Wait, can they stay all night if they wanted? I tear up. I'm never gonna get to see him. What if he doesn't like me anymore? Because this is all my fault if you think about it from Craig's point of view. Whatever happened that night, I'm sure I provoked him. And then I pursued him. And without me, Craig would still be in the closet, hating most people but maintaining and getting by.

How bittersweet.

A door opens but I don't even bother- who am I kidding? I spring up because I wasted time pretending to not care and I peek around the corner quickly and carefully. I see a large balding man, a shorter woman in a dress and a coat, and Ruby. She glances back at me so fast it scares me. How did she know I was here? Then they leave. I think about a lot of thinks at the same time. So much I think I may actually have a panic attack but I can't right now.

I speed walk to Craig's room door and I swing it open. I maybe should've knocked.

Craig's room is not like mine. It has no windows, no TV, and no bathroom either. There's nothing but a chair and his bed.

He's in it, staring at me wide-eyed. Then he blinks the look away and averts his eyes. I shut the door before someone sees me and thinks I'm harassing patients.

He doesn't say anything. He looks tired and sad. His eyes are puffier than mine.

I grab Craig's shoulders and lift him up into a kiss. A hard kiss. But I keep kissing. He kisses back and my heart finally slows. Because if Craig hadn't kissed back I'm sure I would've lost whatever sanity I had left. We kiss for a whole minute. Not even a dirty kiss. Just a good kiss. An, 'I missed you' kiss.

I don't release him yet. I pull him in tighter and nuzzle my face into his shoulder and neck. I didn't mean to. I really tried not to but I break down. The ugly sobs come back full force. I dig into him harder and stain his gown with tears. Craig just holds me and rubs my back. I'm sure I'm not helping but what would I say? What could I say? 'I'm glad you're not dead'?. So I just cry and hold him until I feel semi-okay. Then I stop. I pull a tissue out of a pack sitting on the table next to Craig's bed and wipe my face. It's quiet. He won't look at me. His lips are bruised now.

"Why did you do that?" Is what my brain eventually decides is efficient enough as my first words to post-failed-suicide-attempt Craig. Craig just swallows. Ruby was right. He looks like nothing. "Say something."

He glances at me. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know," I admit. I shake my head and shrug. "What the hell happen?" Craig sighs. "You acted like you were getting better."

"Because when I acted how I felt nobody wanted to be around me anymore..." he says quietly.

My heart breaks. Now I swallow. "Did I make you feel like that?"

Craig glances at me again before averting his eyes again. "Not really you, but you said before that I stress you out."

"Augh, fuck, Craig. I told you I never meant that."

"But you said it," he argues, weakly.

"Well, I'm sorry," I say. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry about that and I'm sorry about calling you an asshole because you're not, you're fucking perfect. I don't even mean that virtually, like, you're actually perfect, Craig and I think about it a lot. Like your braces and- and your lip piercings- I don't know where they are now but I love them- and the way you say my name, and the way you yawn and when you laugh really hard- even if it doesn't happen much- and you have the most perfect eyes and your face when we have sex and your freckles and the birthmark on your back and the way you say fuck. You're perfect and I love you so- so like, if you don't want to be alive for yourself, can you stay alive for me? Please? I'll- I'll cook for you and I'll give you massages and we can watch all the weird foreign gore horror movies you want and I won't even scream... that much. You can come over just to be upset or cry or yell at me or punch me even. I don't care. I just want you to be here." I tried to throw it in the middle. Or I wouldn't have been able to get it out.

Craig's eyes are glassy. He doesn't look at me but he starts turning red. I start a small smile because I think this is a good sign. "Mean it?" He mumbles.

I almost laugh. "Yes. Of course I fucking mean it," I tell him.

He looks at me and then it happens. Craig's face breaks and he starts crying. But, unlike me, he's even perfect when he cries. "I'm sorry," he chokes out. He covers his eyes with his palms and hiccups.

"Jeez, move over." I push him to the far side of his bed and squeeze in next to him. I put my arm around his shoulder and pull him into my chest.

"Don't be sorry... There's nothing to be sorry for," I assure him.

"You're in here 'cause you freaked out," he says. He doesn't ask it, he knows it. And I don't think Ruby told him she saw me.

"Well, yeah, but that was like, my fault," I say. "If my phone wasn't dead, I'd have gotten the first call," I explain.

"But your battery was probably dead because you were texting me," he points out. "What'd you do?" He asks. He means why I am in here.

"Uh, I shoved my mom and I punched my dad in the face."

"Oh."

"I probably called them crazy names too. That's the worst. They haven't come to see me since yesterday when they dropped me off," I tell him. "They probably hate me," I say. "I shoved my mom to the ground. I wish I wasn't so messed up, for them. They worry about me all the time, spend all this money on counseling and medication; they get convinced I'm straight and everything might finally be good and then bam, I do shit like this. This is all the time for me, Craig. They hate me."

"What the hell, Tweek. That's fucking stupid," he says with a sniff. "They don't hate you. You're just paranoid. They probably just wanna give you some space." Craig's right.

"I just feel like I'm always disappointing them..." I say.

"Then stop disappointing them," he says.

"Wow, Craig, thanks. Great advice."

"I mean, have you really tried not to? You continue smoking weed, drinking coffee, and not taking your medication- oh yeah, you drink too, I'm pretty sure those are like, top five things you don't do when you're bipolar."

"That's so lame," I shake my head. "Weed calms me down without it I'd go insane because sometimes, Craig my anxiety makes it hard to just be somewhere. And I don't take my meds so I can drink and I only drink at parties. Coffee... well, maybe I should stop drinking coffee but It's literally nicotine to me. And I don't take my meds because... I don't know. I can't feel happy. I just feel even. I'd rather be like me." Craig nods. "But you're right, I guess. I could be trying harder," I admit.

We're quiet. I hold Craig and he breathes into my chest. It's soothing.

"I- uh- told my parents," he says.

I'm not sure why this doesn't surprise me. "Did it go well?"

He shrugs. "My mom just said that she will always love me no matter who I choose to be with. So, yeah." Choose. "My dad was just kinda confused and Ruby's stupid ass was just like whatever. But, what're they gonna tell me after I just tried to kill myself? Honestly, that's the only reason why I told them. And I feel like I have nothing left to lose."

I realize that Craig parents are gonna see his lip and know it was me now. And that horrifies me. I also realize this is probably why Ruby stopped to talk to me. I pull him into me tighter. "But I don't think we should hang out at my house. It'd be too awkward and my parents would probably say something stupid like we can't be alone in a room with the door shut."

I chuckle. "Oh, for sure," I agree. "Whatever, this is great. Your parents know, they don't care, and now we can just be a thing. I mean, right?"

"Yeah," Craig says. "It doesn't matter anymore," he says. "I'm relieved."

"I wish you would have talked to me."

"That'd be so pathetic," he says.

"No," I argue.

"And I don't know what I would say."

"Hey Clyde, remember how I have depression? It's pretty bad this time. I think I need some help."

Craig groans. "I just couldn't."

"Why would you text me like everything's fine when the whole time you knew you were gonna try to leave me- and when you asked me to leave with you. Was that just something you said because you thought you weren't gonna be here?"

"I wanted you to remember the best me," he mumbles.

My heart breaks.

"You are the best you, Craig," I say. "Well, drunk Craig is really cute so... I don't know. You might be second to him."

"You would say that. You have to say that."

"Okay? But I mean it."

"I'm not," he assures me. "Because I still did it even though I knew it would hurt you and my parents and Clyde... God," he says. "You should've seen him. He was so sad and angry. It felt like he wanted to punch me in the face and never let me go at the same time."

"I can imagine how he felt," I say.

"I'm sorry," he repeats.

I roll my eyes. "I said stop. We all want to blame ourselves but it's just gonna make things worse."

"You say that but I'm still gonna blame myself and I bet you will too."

"Yeah," I agree, softly.

After that we're quiet for a while, just together. I think we're just appreciating each other. Because after almost losing someone like that, you realize how much you took them for granted. But then Craig lifts his face to kiss my neck. He kisses for a while until I move so I can kiss him. I'm sure we didn't mean to but, I can't help myself. I end up straddling him. But, Craig doesn't even seem concerned. I like that.

"Fuck, I missed you," I tell him. It's only been a day but it was a long day, worrying about if Craig was okay and trying to comprehend that he might already be gone. And I said fuck just to rile him up.

We kiss more, harder, wetter, sloppier. I don't care that we're in a depressing hospital room, I wanna fuck Craig. I really wanna fuck. If he says no, I'll stop but I really wanna fuck.

So I bruise his lips even more and then I kiss his ear and then I kiss his neck. He doesn't say anything, just kinda breathes a little louder. His hands tangle into my hair. And that's how I know Craig really wants to fuck too.

I lift his gown. He isn't wearing boxers. I get goosebumps. We really can't waste time. This is the worst place ever to have sex. Even worse than a car. I take my boxers off and throw them somewhere.

Craig grabs at me, pulling me up to his face to kiss him.

I stick my fingers in my mouth and slick them with spit. We don't have anything. But I'll do my best.

I lift his gown to his stomach and press my finger to his entrance. His grip tightens on my hair. I kiss him. Could you imagine if I'd never be able to kiss him again? I work my fingers inside him stretching and stroking, coaxing more sounds out of Craig. He's trying really hard to not make a sound and I am in no way helping. But that's the point.

Once I find he's even adequately prepared, I draw my hand from in him and replace it with the head of my cock.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he pants.

"Yeah," I agree but don't stop. More spit because, what can you do? And I don't want to hurt Craig.

I push into him. Slowly until I'm all the way in. Craig makes strained noises that he tries to muffle with my shoulder and then his hand by biting it.

It's hard for me too and I can't really bite my hand. So, I take a deep breath and lean my head against Craig's shoulder. Then I pull out. At first, I try to be slow but, fuck it. They should be happy if Craig's getting laid because it's a natural high or something, right? Whatever, it wouldn't be a bad thing.

Push. Heavy breath.

I'm really bad with this stuff. I know I need to be quiet but once I get started there's really no end until... the end. Each thrust gets faster, harder and Craig and I get louder and louder. It isn't anything crazy but if you were walking by the door, you'd probably have a lot of questions.

But, neither of us lasts long. Craig comes when I hit his prostate again and I come because Craig came without me even touching him. And that's magic.

I'm kind afterwards. I clean Craig up with a tissue. And then I pull his gown back down and cover him with a blanket. He looks sleepy now.

He shakes his head as I settle back next to him. "This sucks," he states. He leans onto my shoulder.

I watch him. "Do you still... ?" I don't want to say die or kill anymore. Ever, preferably.

"No," he says. "When I first woke up, I couldn't believe it. I was so mad but I pretended not to be. Because I wanna get out of here. Because I already knew what was gonna happen: a bunch of confused crying people, and machines, strangers invading my past, life, and mind, more sadness, and I knew it was gonna be worse than ever. I didn't do it for attention. I wanted to die," he says lowly. "But then, the attention wasn't so bad- not the doctors, they suck," he adds. "My parents and Ruby. Clyde and you. I don't know. I feel like we just have a better relationship now. I need to get the hell out of here though. They won't let me do anything. This is shit that would make someone want to kill themselves."

"How long are you in here?" I ask. "Do you know?"

"I lied to them- Everyone. Because I knew if I told the truth they'd try to keep me longer or like, put me in a real hospital," he tells me. "So I said everything that made it look like I just wanted my parent's attention and I'm a stupid teenager. So they'll probably let me out in a week or something... but I still have to see a therapist."

"Probably for the best," I say.

Craig gives me a look. But he knows I'm right. I mean, yeah, he's okay but he tried to fucking kill himself. I'm not gonna be mad if his parent take all the knives out of the house. I know that sucks for Craig, but he still did it and that means he could still do it again. And he's right, it'll be harder than it even was for a while. But after that it will be better.

"I guess I might as well quit smoking. Since I can't do it in here." I snort. It's not funny. It really isn't. But we laugh anyways.

Cigarettes. Who gives a fuck about cigarettes?

I lean my head on Craig's.

It's weird- for a lot of reasons obviously- but the irony is that Craig and I are both insomniacs but right now we're both so tired that we fall asleep on each other.