Probably Trigger Warning

I had woken up randomly. Craig's parents were talking to my parents and a couple of nurses about us falling asleep together.

Apparently, they realized I was gone and couldn't find me so they called my parents. That's when Craig's parent conveniently showed up to visit Craig and... found me.

And since this is the first time I've been quiet on my own since I got here and the first time Craig's slept since he got here, they didn't really want to disturb us.

"Well, if he hasn't been sleeping..." Mama Tuck said. "It's fine," she finishes a little more certain of her decision. It's quiet for a minute but then Mama Tuck hisses, "Thomas," like she expected him to talk after that and he ignored her.

"What? I don't know. Craig's acting out, isn't that what teenagers do? We haven't been paying him enough attention and that's our fault. Now he's trying to kill himself and he has a boyfriend? What'd you expect? In a month, he'll be over it."

My dad scoffs, "Are you fucking kidding me? He's gay, Thomas! If you cared about Craig at all, you'd put aside all that Christ bullshit and try not to be an asshole for five fucking minutes-"

"Hey. Don't tell me how to fucking feel. I didn't ask for this."

"You think Craig did? You think he wants to be here, stuck to a hospital bed being analyzed?"

"He's trying to piss us off, get our attention," he says.

"Christ," my dad chuckles.

"My son's no fag."

"Craig doesn't needs this right now," my mom intervenes.

"Yes, because you know what my son needs," Mama Tuck says sarcastically.

"This isn't easy for any of us and it certainly isn't for Craig."

"I don't even care!" Craig's mom snaps. "I just wish he would've said something- fuck- anything."

"There's nothing you could've done."

"But there is," Craig's mother cries. "There is," she assures my mom. It's quiet and Mama Tuck sniffs again. "Look, I said it was fine already. I'm gonna let Craig sleep and we'll come back later. There are still things we should probably talk about."

After that they move too far from the door to hear and I let myself fall back asleep. I don't know how to even feel about that. Craig was right. Being in the hospital might be the only reason his parents were okay with him coming out. My mom was right though. Craig doesn't need this- not now, not ever, matter of fact. If it comes down to it, I'm sure my parents would let him stay with us. But, I'm also sure his parents would do everything to make sure he would not stay with us. The bad thing is I'm starting to think it would just be easier to go back in the closet. Pretend it was all a phase, just so it'll be easier on us. I know better, but I wonder if Craig does though. And why am I doubtful?

Maybe they'll come around, once they realize that it isn't a phase and that Craig's still Craig either way.

But why am I doubtful?

I run my hand down my face. I'm not going to have an anxiety attack because I'm okay. I'm not going to have an anxiety attack because Craig's parents aren't even mad. Right now, it's all worked out and worrying about the future is pointless because who knows what's gonna happen anyways? I roll towards Craig. Luckily, he's asleep- really asleep. I wouldn't ever want him to hear the conversation I just did. I brush his cheek with my thumb. He immediately bunches his face up, agitated and flips. So I wrap my arms around him, cuddle into his back, and go back to sleep.

When I wake up again I've been moved. I can't figure out how Craig managed to sit up and move me to his lap without waking me. Then I wonder how he managed to do all that and grab my sketchbook from all the way on the far side of the table. And then I realize, ha, that Craig had my fucking sketchbook, that is ninety percent him. Just casually flipping through.

I stare at him until he notices but he just looks away unconcerned.

"Craig, what the shit?"

"What?"

I snatch the book out of his hands but he's already made it through a significant amount. "Asshole," I accuse.

"Liar," he shoots back. "I thought you said you weren't good enough for art school."

"I'm not."

"Fucking liar," he says again. "If you wanna go, you should go."

"Art degree?" I say. "Then what? Starve?"

"Everyone needs an artist, Tweek. Just go to a good school- one that gets you internships and jobs straight out."

"School's so expensive..."

"You're on the honor roll. What's your GPA?" I avert my eyes. "Huh?"

"4.0."

"4.0," he repeats. "Even?" I shrug. "Dude, get a scholarship, grants, loans- This is like legit plausible for you so why are you trying to not do this? I don't understand."

"Because I can't," I whine.

"Yes, you totally can. What the fuck. You'd rather stay here? I'll help you do your application."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"I go off and what'd you do?"

"Who cares?"

"I fucking do!"

"Well then, I'll go with you."

"Why do you say it like it's no big deal?"

"'Cause, it's not."

"It is!" I argue.

The door opens and we both pause. It's only Kenny. He smiles, "Can't take my eyes off you fuckers for five fucking minutes."

"Kenny," I say. I'm happy to see him. I'd be happy to see anyone I think. I'm so over being mad. I just wanna get better. I think.

Because what if I don't like better?

"Dude, what the fuck happen?"

"It's my fault," I say.

"Nah," Craig intervenes. "It's really mine."

"Up for debate," I tell him.

"That's cute," he says. "I heard you flipped," Kenny informs me.

"What else did you hear?" I tried not to think about everyone who saw... everything. I wish it hadn't gone down like that. There. At all. Fuck.

"Mm," Kenny hums. He isn't gonna tell me. He's a good friend. But isn't it worse imagining what they said? Because it was probably the meanest thing I can think of. And then I'll start thinking of the meanest things I can. Freak. Insane. Lost it. Attacked. Crazy. Unstable. Mental. It makes me wanna laugh and cry at the same time. Which would only prove them right, wouldn't it?

"Nothing I could say to your face."

"Whatever," Craig says. "Doesn't matter. You never liked them anyways. And now when you go off to college, you won't give a shit or miss anyone." I roll my eyes.

"College?" Kenny asks.

"Ignore him."

"Okay," he says with a nod. "But, yeah, people know."

"How many?"

"I don't know. A lot. Everyone," he shrugs. "Sorry," he adds.

"What about Craig? Anyone know?"

"Nah," Kenny shakes his head. "Who'd have told them? I didn't even know," he says. "If they did, everyone was too busy talking about you."

"That's just great."

"It's weird. How you're both in here though," he says. "Have you fucked yet? Like in the hospital?" Kenny laughs when neither of us responds. "Of fucking course," he cackles. "Here's a gift then. Special just for you guys." He tosses me something from his pocket. "Since they took all your stuff right?" It's travel sized lube and two condoms. Where was this asshole yesterday? "Nothing else to do in here," he chuckles.

"So what else did I miss?" He asks.

I shrug, "I think you're all filled in, Ken. Craig OD'd, I beat up my mom, and- oh, Craig came out. Officially. To his parents but now, like, it won't matter if we tell anyone else."

"Mazel tof," Kenny cheers. "How'd that go over?"

Craig shrugs. "They made it a point to let me know that they still love me so that's a good sign, I think. Who gives a shit though?"

"I'm sure you would, Craig. If they hadn't been cool with it. And that would've been fine and completely reasonable."

"Shut the fuck up, McCormick. You don't know anything about me." I would argue that Kenny knows a lot about everybody but I'm sure Craig already knows that and doesn't give a shit.

Kenny sticks his tongue out at Craig. "Good then. Isn't it?"

"Yeah," Craig agrees.

"Then why don't you look happy about it?" he asks. "They didn't kick you out."

Craig throws his arms up, motioning to our setting. "I'm not even home to be kicked out!"

"Exactly," Kenny laughs. "I mean", he says, placing his hands in his pocket. "Did you sleep like that?" I nod. "And did your parents visit?"

Craig and I answer at the same time. Unfortunately, we have different answers. I try to look equally confused as Craig when he says no and I say yes. Kenny blinks.

"They didn't...?" I say slowly.

"What the fuck, Tweek? They did?"

"Well then, they saw you together and didn't even give a shit." I'm glad Kenny doesn't ask this because it's not that they didn't give a shit. They just... didn't give enough of a shit? Fuck.

"When were my parents here? Did you talk to them?"

I shake my head. "They- uh- didn't come in the room- They saw us- but they were outside the room mostly."

Craig groans. "Doing what? Why are you acting like you aren't gonna tell me?"

"I'll tell you... They were talking to my parents."

"What?" Kenny laughs at our conversation. "Talking about what?"

"Us obviously, Craig. Don't be dense."

"Tweek, you're really pissing me off." Kenny continues laughing.

"I don't know," I say. "They were talking about us. How I wasn't in my room and because I was in yours. They said it was fine. They didn't wake us up so nobody even cared." I shrug.

"And you didn't tell me this because...?"

"You don't tell me a lot of things," I mutter.

"He's got you there, Craig."

"I'm gonna punch you in the face, Tweek."

The door opens again. "Look, Toke, it's a fucking party."

"Clyde, Token," Kenny greets.

"Kenny," Clyde greets back. Then he turns to me. "Tweek," he says. "Not surprised."

"Ha, ha, asshole."

"How's it going?" Toke asks. I'm assuming he's asking both of us. But Craig's the only one to answer. A crisp fine. Because how does it fucking look like it's going? On a spectrum, I'd have to say it's going pretty goddamn shitty for us. I don't think it gets much worse. Maybe jail or prison.

Token shrugs. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say," he admits. "I feel weird if we just pretend like nothing happened."

"Then we should talk about it," says Kenny. He says it like it's the obvious solution.

"I don't want to talk about it," Craig says in return.

"Okay," Kenny says. "That's not helpful but okay."

"What the fuck would we need to talk about?"

"Jesus Christ, what wouldn't we need to talk about, Craig?"

"First of all, fuck you McCormick. I'm not even sure why you're here or who let you in. And what the fuck would you want to know?" Craig snaps. "How shitty I felt?" he asks. He's starting to scare me. "Or how long I felt that shitty? Wanna know what time it was? Or how I did it?- Let's talk about how I did it-"

"Craig," Clyde says.

"Obviously I took my antidepressants and obviously I didn't take e-fucking-nough."

"Craig!"

"He said he wanted to talk about it, Clyde! I'm talking about it."

"Fuck, why are you like this?" Clyde shakes his head, running his hands through his hair.

"Crazy, gay, or fucked up?"

I sit up and move to stand.

"I want to know what you were thinking!" Clyde shouts.

Craig laughs, "I was thinking I would die and then I wouldn't have to deal with any of this anymore. Feeling like shit and feeling like shit about feeling like shit."

"What did you think? We- we wouldn't care or- we wouldn't help?"

"I don't fucking know, Clyde. It didn't seem like an option."

"We talked before. I thought..."

"It wasn't about you, Clyde," Craig says. "I didn't want to be stopped. I thought it wasn't getting better because I just don't see how it fucking could."

"At least we wouldn't be in a fucking hospital," Clyde mutters.

It's quiet. I've got my legs hanging off the bed but haven't committed to the motion. Clyde's got this pout on his face and his arms crossed. He looks old. Token's staring at air. He looks disappointed. And Kenny looks uncomfortable. I don't think I've ever seen him uncomfortable.

I glance at Craig but he catches it. "What? You gonna give me more shit?"

"You need help, Craig..." I tell him. I scratch my hand and then I shake my head. "We both do."

Craig scoffs. It's quiet. He sighs. It's quiet. "Is that news?" He chuckles and the mood is slightly lifted.

"When do you get out?" Clyde says.

"I don't know," Craig says. "Tuesday. Hopefully Tuesday."

"That's not so bad," Clyde says. "I'll bring you you're work."

"Cause that's what I want."

"And I'll stay with you until you get out," I promise.

"Cause that's what I want," Craig repeats.

We all sort of laugh. After that I don't know what we talked about but we somehow filled an hour and a half. We played pictionary on Toke's phone and that was fun. But having fun in this place right now seems wrong and weird. And I feel like too much emotional stuff has happened today already and I just need to sleep alone.

When they all finally leave, I hop off Craig's bed and stretch.

"If you want me to stay I-"

"Nah," Craig says. "You can go. This beds too small for both of us." He's right.

"Okay, well, I'll be back in a few hours. Gonna sleep."

"Okay. Have fun." I stare at him. "What?"

"I wanna be better." He raises his eyebrows at me. "I wanna try to be better," I rephrase.

"Good," he says. "I'm proud of you."

My heart does that thing again. "I love you," I blurt out. But before he can respond or... not respond. I kiss him. One more for the road. A nice kiss. An, 'I love you' kiss.

And then I grab my sketchbook and I walk to the door slowly. There's no way he's not going to say it.

"Tweek."

I turn back.

"I love you too."

I smile and it's so lame. I can't stop. "I know, asshole."

He flips me off. I leave.