Thump… thump… thump… thump… thump…

Over and over the red stress ball flew, colliding with the ceiling and returning to Craig's outstretched hand. Thump… thump… thump… Mindlessly, as though by reflex.

It was 5pm on a Friday and Craig Tucker was bored shitless.

Usually around 5pm on a Friday, Craig would be over at a friend's house playing video games, or trying to convince a hobo to buy him a beer from the local Sip 'N Strut, or seeing how much merchandise he could shoplift from Walmart. But instead he was up in his room, staring at water stains on a popcorn ceiling. Like a loser.

None of the usual Craig's Gang members were free. Token's parents were making him attend a cram school for some goddamn reason. Clyde was caught up trying to round the bases with some skank. Jimmy had been out of class all week with sinusitis. And that was all the friends Craig had.

Thump… thump… thump…

Well… all the ones that he'd care to hang out with.

Thump… thump… thump…

Craig sighed. He knew he wouldn't be busy.

THUMP!

Craig accidentally threw the ball too hard. It sprang back from the wall at an angle, landing over near his dirty laundry hamper. He flipped the ball off, too lazy to get up and retrieve it.

Two weeks had passed since the broom closet incident. And while Tweek had honored their agreement to give him some much-needed space, they'd also not spoken at all. Which, given his present situation, fucking blew.

Craig sighed. Was he really that desperate?

He stared up at the ceiling for another minute before deciding that, yes, he was that goddamn bored. He fished his little shit-ass Walmart family plan flip phone out of his pocket, clicking through his contacts until he found 'Crackhead' and pressed the call button.

The first ring hadn't even finished before someone answered.

"GAAH!" came Tweek's usual greeting.

"Hey dude," Craig pinched the space between his eyes. "What's up? You busy?"

"N-no…" the boy stammered. "I just got back from my parents' coffee shop."

"Dope. You wanna come over?"

The line went silent for a beat. Craig thought he could just make out the sound of Tweek fidgeting.

"Uh… s-sure. But… c-could you come over to my place instead? My parents won't be home until late and I got a new video game we could play. If you wanted to, that is."

Craig sighed theatrically for Tweek's benefit. "Great. Now I gotta put on pants. Alright, sure. Be right over."

Craig quickly hung up the phone, blissfully unaware that he'd made Tweek blush.


"Hey."

"Hey."

The door opened a bit, allowing Craig inside. All at once he was consumed by cool room air and the pleasing aromas of French roast coffee and upper middle-class luxury.

Slipping his shoes off (Tweek's family did the Japanese thing) Craig padded down the darkened hallway after the boy, taking note that Tweek had clearly jumped in the shower right after their phone call. Though Craig hated to admit it, Tweek smelled good.

The floorplan opened on a cozy living room populated with nice furniture from the sort of catalogs Craig's mother subscribed to but never actually bought stuff from. There were high walls done up in a soothing shade of sage green, nice Lumber Liquidator floors, and a coffee table that was expected to house coffee mugs and not feet. Tweek's family wasn't rich. But they sure as shit weren't struggling either.

"C-can I get you something to drink?" Tweek had yet to look him in the eyes.

"I'll get it," Craig said quickly, bypassing the awkward formalities as he made a bee-line for the adjacent kitchen.

His socked feet chilling on real tiles, Craig fished a tumbler out of the cabinet, pressing it into the freezer door for ice. That's how you know you're doing well for yourself: you have a refrigerator that gives you ice instead of making you open it, take out a little plastic tray and crack a few into your cup yourself.

"What do you want?" he called into the living room, pulling out Tweek's mom's pitcher of tea and pouring himself some.

"J-just water! Please! Thank you!" About a year or so ago, Tweek had started to cut back on the caffeine. Which was good. Nowadays he was less paranoid, slightly less twitchy, and even managed to blink regularly.

Craig returned with two tumblers in hand, handing the one filled with water off. "What we playing?"

"I got Goregasm XIV: Return to Prolapse Island. Hope that's okay."

"Tits."

As Tweek fiddled with his Okama Gamesphere® II controller, cycling though the co-op options, Craig studied him out of the corner of his eye.

At 14 years old, Tweek dressed like a 40-year-old lesbian from Seattle.

On this day in particular he had on a green plaid LL Bean button-up (with all of the buttons done right for once), a pair of starchy-looking chinos and gray striped wool socks. Craig knew there was a pair of suede chukkas awaiting Tweek in the shoe caddie out in the hallway. The leather belt banding the boy's narrow waist probably cost more than Craig's dental fillings.

They launched a co-op campaign and were swiftly set upon by the unclean legions of hell. Paired with only their wits and high-powered chainsaws, the boys haphazardly pressed a charred hellscape filled with nightmares. Healing when needed. Teabagging where necessary.

Tweek was a boss at video games. Always had been. Craig suspected it had something to do with his constant fidgeting. The boy's fingers jittered across the colored buttons faster than a meth mule's heart on a red eye flight when all the condoms burst in his stomach at once.

"FUCK!" Tweek squealed after they'd both been ritualistically disemboweled, holding his controller high overhead as though he were about to slam it through the floor. "Fucking dick tits cunt mother FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

Craig chuckled at the outburst. "Chill dude. It happens."

"That was such fucking bullshit though!"

"I know, I know. I was there."

"GAAAH!" Tweek set the controller down, slamming his head back into the plush couch pillow, hyperventilating through his teeth.

Craig smirked. He had to admit, playing video games with Tweek was fun. Because the blonde was so hyper, he tended to get super wound up in whatever game they played. Craig only ever heard Tweek curse when they were in the midst of a shooter and his parents weren't around.

"Wanna take a break? Maybe replay the last level? I think we missed a loot cache that could help us out."

Tweek removed his palms from his face, his eyes bleary and red. "Sure. I guess."

Craig fumbled with the counterintuitive menu system, cycling through the spinning windows until he found the last level they'd completed without getting dismembered. He clicked it, then set back as the game worked to load itself.

"So are you like 100-percent gay or just bi-curious?"

Craig's eyes widened. He glanced around the darkened living room for the voice's origin, only to realize with sudden horror that he was the one who'd said it.

The fuck?! Craig was genuinely in shock. Why the fuck had he said that? The words just came spewing from his mouth like verbal diarrhea.

Across the expanse of couch, Tweek looked just as shocked as he was. His bright green eyes were dilated, his eyebrows arched as high as they could go.

"…um…"

"Oh jeez… dude, sorry! I have no idea where that came from!"

"No no! It's… it's okay." Tweek's knuckles worked against his kneecaps. He glanced off, a streak of red rising across his cheeks. "I'm… I'm gay."

"I know but like are you totally completely gay or just a little gay like a bisexual or someone from France?" Why the fuck was he still talking?!

Tweek chewed his bottom lip. "I'm… gay. I like boys."

"Have you always liked boys?"

"N-no."

"Then how do you know you're totally gay?"

"B-because I have a crush on one. And… because of him… I don't really think about girls anymore."

Craig nodded solemnly, as though he'd just had some imperceptibly sage wisdom laid on him.

"Cool, cool. Hey look, the game's finished loading! Let's jump right in!"

Craig started the game without giving Tweek time to pick up his controller. He focused intently on the monster killing, patiently ignoring the eyes that would occasionally wander over his way.

Several minutes in, Craig was slaying. Waves of enemies fell before him like a great red tide. Tweek, on the other hand, was getting his shit pushed in.

"Dude, heal, heal, HEAL! You're about to – ffff…" But it was too late. An orc with machine guns for tits came up behind Tweek's character, cleaving him neatly in twain.

"No big, man. You'll respawn nearby."

As Craig continued to clack away at the controller's buttons, Tweek stared down at his own controller nestled evenly on his lap.

"Dude, you're loaded back in! Come on! Get the – "

But the blonde – who casually leaned over to plant a kiss on Craig's cheek – no longer seemed interested in playing.

Craig's eyes widened in the dim glow of the TV screen. The lips were still there, warm and soft against his cheekbone. He turned to stare at Tweek in shock, inadvertently brushing the tips of their noses together. Their foreheads touched. Tweek's breath plumed against his lips, sweet and minty and startlingly warm.

In a fraction of a second, Craig's mind sped through a series of unwanted observations. His eyes are green… his hand is on my knee… a lock of blonde hair is touching me… I could pick him up… his parents won't be home for several hours… he's about to kiss me.

He was right about that last part. Carefully, and with feathery lightness, Tweek brushed his lips against Craig's. It wasn't so much a kiss as it was an impossibly quick touching. Nevertheless, Craig's toes curled up in his socks.

"I HAVE TO GO NOW!"

Craig bolted up straight from the couch as though he'd been stabbed, knocking the controller out of his lap. Pivoting in place, he stalked robotically out of the living room, eyes wide, mouth agape.

"C-craig! Wait!"

Craig snatched his shoes out of the caddy, not stopping to put them on as he threw open the heavy front door and promptly fled the scene.