Little kids draw pictures of the ground, the sky, and space in between. If you ask them what the in-between space is, they say, "That's where we are."

—Ed McCullough

Tweek's point of view:

I'd been trying to put in a good word for Craig every chance I got—he's completing college; he has a steady job, a steady income; he takes good care of his dogs and himself; he's a good driver, has been since he turned sixteen and I could remember that first day he'd gotten his car—when my dad interjected and said, "I don't want to hear this from you, Tweek. I want to hear that you have been and are going to be taken care of by him."

I swallowed and nodded my head, spinning around on my heel to walk somewhat disjointedly to the booth containing my friends and Craig. His face was like deja vu, just as I always saw it in my memories: that apathetic set of his features and the dead look in his cold eyes. It was his default expression that he'd wear when regarding Stan, Kyle, and Cartman. It was an expression I'd never received because I hadn't been important enough to even be noticed, but the one I was given now made up for all of the times I've ever wanted him to look at me.

The abrupt change in his eyes at my arrival was like a still body of water suddenly ruptured by the rapid twist of a fish flitting past and the direction of those ripples sent him to me. We looked at each other in front of Stan and Kyle and Thomas in a way that I've only ever desperately hoped of doing. It was just something measly that would've made my life back then just as it was doing now because even being acknowledged by Craig was enough to make me feel so substantial.

"My parents want to talk to you," I said, an uncomfortable undertone thick in my voice.

His lips quirked upward and he slid from the booth, standing so much taller than me. He leaned a bit lower to say, "You have absolutely no reason to worry. Your parents are going to love me."

Craig slipped past me and I made to follow him when Stan shot a hand out and grabbed my wrist. His answer to my incredulous look was: "Let him talk to them alone."

Although I was wary, I trusted Stan's opinion and tentatively took Craig's discarded seat. "So how was your t-talk?" I couldn't keep my eyes from shifting to stare hawk-eyed at Craig as he confidently approached my parents. I know I've always wanted him to meet them, but my imagination had never pictured it quite like this.

Stan and Kyle exchanged a look with a meaning that I couldn't calibrate. "He's Craig, Tweek." Yes, I know he's Craig. That's why I like him. "He'll always be a bastard."

My already unfortunate mood deflated into a flat line. Kyle spoke up as though to revive my hurt feelings. "Way to score a looker, though." When I raised my eyes, a sly smile was spotted on his lips. "I think he might be a little into you." His fiancé shot him a sharp look. "Not that I'm encouraging anything of the sort. I just—" He threw his hands up and shrunk down into his seat. "Stan, I can't do this. I can't discourage Tweek when Craig looks so fucking good."

Exasperated, Stan said, "We haven't given our approval yet. You can't—"

But Kyle ignored him by pointing a finger at me and commanding, "When you see his penis, I want a detailed report because I can tell you right now that you are going to be very lucky."

Just as my jaw unhinged, Thomas randomly stated a short series of numbers from over my shoulder. "Seven and a half, eight on a good day."

We all turned to glance at him curiously. "What?" I asked.

"Kenny's been waiting for me to tell you, and since we're talking about Craig's penis, I figured I'd go ahead and let you know." His eyes were glistening amusedly, staring right into me. My cheeks began to burn as I realized what seven and a half, eight on a good day meant. "And I'm quoting Kenny when I say this, so this is from the man himself: 'Craig actually likes to downplay his size. He'll say he's seven and a half, eight on a good day. But every time Craig manages to get a boner is a good day.' So Kyle's right. You are very lucky."

Kyle's forehead hit the tabletop. Stan's fell back against the booth. Thomas was giggling, and I couldn't take my eyes off the man talking to my parents. "Oh." Everything looked like it was going okay. That...is quite large.

Experience wasn't something I had, but I knew how to preference based on majority opinion. Rarely was he ever a sexual guy and he'd been gifted with that above-average size? I couldn't figure out whether I wanted to be terrified or turned on. In the back of my head I could hear Kenny sniggering, saying something along the lines of "Why don't figure out how well he can use it?"

"He's half an inch bigger than you." Kyle was speaking to Stan who hummed an affirmative numbly. "I think I officially give my approval."

After heaving a deep sigh, Stan craned his neck around until he spotted Craig.

I watched him watch the other, stuck in a strange in-between because my reaction was uncertain. My parents were attentive which was always incredibly weird to witness. There was no disrespect or skepticism in their eyes and Craig was leaning his hip against the counter comfortably. Both were good things, leading me to believe that maybe he really was a parent charmer.

Once Stan righted his body, he cast me a long, steady once-over. I was still focused on the neutral expression portrayed on Craig's profile and how sometime during all of this Thomas had made his way over to enter their conversation. "So he's the one?"

It took me a moment to process what Stan was asking, but when I did, my heart paused and my vision fell. Everyone always seemed to talk to me about Craig in terms of love and "the one" and I didn't know whether or not they understood the gravity of the implication attached to words and phrases like those.

It was undeniably true that I have had an insatiable, relentless obsession with him. I wasn't going to put it past me that this attraction could've possibly surfaced before puberty and hormones because I've always wanted everything to do with him in elementary school even. It wasn't impossible that he might be the only person I'd ever have such strong feelings for. I wanted to let him have the rest of my life—and I didn't care if that meant knowingly or obliviously—just like he had what could be called my childhood and teenage years. I could survive four of them without him, but I couldn't let that happen again.

The bare minimum I would take from now on would be friendship. I would sit in the fucking friend zone and guard that shit like no other. Anything less than that and I wouldn't allow it. But the bare minimum wasn't something I was going to worry about because there was more to gain and that was what I wanted. I wanted everything that was more than friendship. I wanted years of Craig's life and I wanted to be close to him all the time and I wanted to give myself these things because Craig made me do scary things—good things like want, and attempt, and take.

If that was what Stan meant by "the one" and if that was what Kenny meant when he placed love and Craig Tucker in the same sentence, then that was what it would be. There wasn't anything along lines like those that could be definable but anyone could guess and that just so happened to be theirs. I've just been guessing for my entire life it seemed, and when Craig reached out to shake my dad's hand and when he leaned down to hug my mom, those few gentle exchanges made me a small fraction more certain. It was rare for her to accept the invitation of another—physicality was exclusively for me when I needed it, not even including her own husband—and the sight of the interaction between the two was something that I liked very much.

When Craig turned around entirely, our eyes immediately connected. His fluid turn hadn't left me enough time to conceal the numerous thoughts spinning throughout my head, and as he began to walk over, I was still stuck revolving around the idea of "the one". It made me want to tell him that he should hug my mom more often, to come back to South Park a couple more times, and that Stan and Kyle needed to see that he wasn't just an attractive asshole. That they didn't know the same version of him that I did.

"Ready to go?" He asked, smirking down at me because of course everything was fine. He was right and my parents were now both charmed and reassured.

I nodded dumbly and got out of the booth. "I—uhm." It was hard to look at him when he was everything that I wanted all the time. "We need to get my stuff—a-at my house."

"Yes, we do," he agreed, smiling wider. "Are you planning on doing that in your apron?"

"Huh?" I looked up at him and quickly down. My green Tweak Bros. apron was still tied to my chest. "Oh, uh."

Before I could reach around to untie the knot with shaky fingers, Craig's knuckles were grazing my back as he did it instead. I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling as he explained shortly, "Gotta keep up my gentlemanly appearance."

"That's a great job you're doing. Are you going to carry me out of here, too?" I teased, grinning up at him when he made to slip the halter of the apron over my head.

"I could," he agreed, shrugging nonchalantly. "But I don't want to overdo it."

"Yeah, you wouldn't want to impress my parents too much." Just as I took the apron from him, Thomas came over and took it from me.

He enveloped me in a hug to say goodbye, mouth pressed firmly against my ear. "He cares about you," he whispered, tightening his hold. My heartbeat became heavy. "You should've heard what he was asking your parents. He wanted to know everything so that he could take care of you the way that you need." To remain inconspicuous, the golden blonde pulled away, bumped our foreheads together, and kissed me lightly. "Have fun on Halloween, okay?"

Hopefully Craig missed his wink as he left to put the apron away.

Before we could make a safe exit, Stan had to remove himself from the booth and come over to stand before Craig. Kyle followed, though much less intrusive. I couldn't help but notice that Stan was just a bit shorter than his raven haired opposite and thought to myself that Craig just seemed to be that much bigger than him in all aspects. My blush spread at the surprisingly vulgar thought.

"I definitely could've managed without seeing you again," Craig said. "But small towns usually means you have to run into someone shitty, so that just fucking sucks for me." And that was his goodbye.

Stan's smile was pretty much forced, an uplift of his lips that I wasn't sure I liked. "Actually," he mused. "What do you think about having dinner with me and Kyle tonight?"

My stomach dropped because there was no way that he had just asked that.

"You know what?" Craig's smirk was crooked, competing against Stan's. "I have to check in on my parents anyway and it's late enough as it is." To me he suggested, "Why don't we just head back to my place tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" I echoed. "But w-where are you going to stay?"

"Your house," he answered simply.

Everything inside of my head exploded. I couldn't get a grip on my fluttering pulse. This was too surreal for someone like me who couldn't distinguish imaginary from reality. How was it possible that this was happening? This was what I wanted and out of nowhere here Craig was literally telling me how it would be.

"Okay," I breathed, blinking up at him as though trying to disperse this airy, wondering feeling.