Chapter 8

He… loves me?

I stared at my phone in shock for a moment before everything clicked together. That's why he did all this. I couldn't say it didn't explain a lot.

I just shook my head as I tried to formulate a coherent response. In the end I was too overwelmed and missed Tweek too much to deal with Kenny right now.

I hadn't even tried calling Tweek since reading his letter just an hour earlier. I figured he'd had to change his number to move, but I decided to try anyway.

Surprisingly, I got through to a couple rings, but, after seeing who was calling him, I assumed, he hung up. I was so lost and felt so sick that I had to lay down and cry for a while. I tried Tweek's cell a few more times, but he hung up each time.

What was I going to do? Should I follow Tweek's advice of "starting fresh"? Was he right that we were too "toxic" to be together?

I breathed a huge sigh and stood up. I had to get out of here, get away from the empty apartment, the massive, unyeilding reminder that Tweek was gone. I put on my shoes and coat, grabbed my wallet, and all but ran down the apartment building's stairs, not trusting the elevator to get me away fast enough.

I didn't realize how late and cold it had grown until I'd gone two blocks south on foot. The perpetual Colorado winter sent a shiver down my spine and almost made me turn back for my car. But I just put my hood up and made the eleven-minute trek to the pizza place/bar. Maybe to punish myself, maybe to give myself time to come to terms with his absence. Probably both.

Nose red and hair wet with ice, I stepped into the corner bar a few freezing, icy minutes later, and put my hood down. I made an alcoholic's beeline for the bar.

I'd been hoping that Red would be working because she's less nosy about my private life, but I had the somewhat unfortunate luck to be served by Butters.

"Oh, well, hiya, Craig!" he said, coming over to me and leaning against the bar. "I haven't seen you in forever!"

"Hi, Butters," I said, taking in his lack of makeup and hair products and more masculine clothing to conclude that he was Butters and not Marjorine today. I added, trying not to appear as desperate as I felt, "Can I get a beer?"

"I thought you were sober? That's what Kyle said, anyway. I said, I said, 'Kyle, Craig's been drinkin' since he was fourteen, what do you mean he's sober?' but he said he wasn't pullin' my leg." I really wished Red was working.

"I - uh," I stammered, trying to come up with a way to shed any responsibility for breaking my sobriety. My mind had already thrown out reason the second I'd seen Tweek's letter, and between his absence and Kenny's admission of loving me, something had to give. I looked back up at Butters and said, "Tweek walked out."

Butters raised his eyebrows, but before I could let him start in on some painfully awkward rambling apology, I repeated, "So please, can I get a beer?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. One sec."

"Craig?"

I turned to my right to see Kyle approaching bar. I looked past him to see Stan sitting a few tables away.

"Hey, Kyle," I said begrudgingly.

"So, uh, how's it goin'?" Kyle said as I unzipped my coat and collapsed on a bar stool.

"Oh, uh, not bad," I lied.

The redhead raised an eyebrow. "Really?" Kyle took a quick sideways glance at Stan a few feet away and I knew that they already knew about Tweek.

I didn't say anything for an awkward moment before Butter returned with three beers. As I took the bottle, I could feel several pairs of eyes on me. But all I could think about was the familiar pain of the ice cold glass against my fingertips. It was already open.

"Uh, uh, Butters," Kyle said quickly, "I don't think Craig - "

Before I could let him get out another word, I'd put the bottle to my lips and taken a generous gulp. And then another.

Kyle put a hand on my shoulder and genlty nudged me in the direction of his and Stan's table a few feet away.

"Craig, hey," Stan said as I slid into a chair beside him. "Back on the wagon?"

I thought about giving him a dirty look, but I just nodded once and took another sip of my beer. I didn't need to look up to know the other two were exchanging concerned looks.

"We heard about Tweek, about him leaving," Kyle said. "I'm really sorry, Craig."

I swallowed the rest of my beer in one gulp. I stood up to head back to the bar, but Kyle, presumably feeling awkward, said he'd go for me.

As I sat back down and Kyle walked away, Stan put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Man, it… I'm really sorry, dude. It must be hard. I - I mean, you guys have been insep - inseperable since, like, fourth grade."

Part of me was glad Stan was already decently drunk; he didn't do so well with heavy emotional discussions when sober - much like myself.

So he didn't say anything as I proceeded not only to break my sobriety, but to grind it into smithereens. When Kyle came back with my drink, I stood up, started drinking, and by the time I was back at the bar, I was holding an empty.

Two hours and nine drinks later, Stan and I had just stepped outside to smoke in the cold. Stan was drunkenly ranting about the state of the government, but I was distracted by the sight of Kenny's car pulling into the parking lot. He was supposed to park out back with the other delivery drivers, but once he'd seen me, he pulled into a space in the customer parking lot in front of us.

"Kenny?" Stan said, stopping mid-bitch in drunken confusion.

I was too numb and too drunk to guess at what was going to happen. Kenny stepped out of his car. He wore his old, beat-up orange coat over his uniform, no hat or gloves. By the time he reached us, I could tell he was pissed.

"Kenny, whassup?" Stan said, seemingly unaware of Kenny's disposition.

The blonde ignored him and pointed a finger in my face. "Craig, what's wrong with you? If you don't feel the same, fine, just tell me!"

Stan thankfully jumped in before I could respond. "What are you talkin' about?"

Kenny looked at Stan and a frown slowly took over his features. "Are… are you guys drunk? Craig?" He scanned me up and down. "Unbelievable. You ignore me to go get hammered."

I put out my cigarette. I opened my mouth to respond to Kenny with a snarky remark, but before I could, my cell phone rang. Nearly shaking and seeing double, I pulled out my phone. Before I answered it - an Unknown Number - I saw several texts I'd missed - all from Kenny.

I answered "hello" as soberly as possible.

After a pause, a soft voice on the other line said, "Hi, Craig."

"Tweek?" Everyone around me looked on in surprise. "H-hi. Are you in Boston? Are you okay?"

"I - I'm fine," he replied. "I guess I just missed you. I'm all alone here. Are you alone?"

"Yeah," I said before I could process it. "I miss you too - "

Kenny scoffed, rolled his eyes and said, "Pathetic," in what he thought was a quiet voice.

"Was that Kenny?" Tweek asked.

I grimaced. "Yeah, but -"

"I should've known better. I shouldn't have called."

"Wait, Tweek, please," I said, rushing to explain myself. "Stan's here!" I realized, turning to the man lighting up a second cigarette a few feet from me. I held out the phone for him.

Stan shouted into the phone, "Heya, Tweek! Howwwssss everything in - hic - in Boston?"

I should've known that he was too drunk to serve as a viable witness. I put the phone back to my ear, praying that I hadn't just fucked up beyond repair.

"So you're drunk, then? So much for sobriety. I knew you wouldn't change."

"Tweek, no! Please!" Before I could get in another word, I was eating dial tone. Broken, I pocketed my phone.

"Craig, you're better off without him, honestly -" Before Kenny could finish his sentence, I'd tackled him to the ground in anger.

"Fuck you!" I cried, hitting him in the face a few times while he was still in shock before the sober blonde took control. He grabbed me by the arm and pushed me flat on my back. I half expected him to back off, but without a second's hesitation, he was hitting me right back.

We only got a few more blows in each before Stan and Kyle stopped us, both having to physically hold us back. When I caught my breath and had wiped blood from my mouth, Kyle let me go. I mumbled some drunken words of defeat before stumbling down the sidewalk toward my apartment. I'd had enough.

I was surprised nobody tried to follow me, but I realized that I didn't deserve anyone to look after me. I didn't deserve Tweek, and despite how much I hated him, I knew I didn't even really deserve Kenny.

When I reached my apartment, I looked up at the plain, white building and I knew I couldn't go up there knowing Tweek wouldn't be there.

I went out back to the parking lot and got in my freezing cold car. I closed my eyes and let myself start bawling. I'd lost everything I cared about: Tweek, my sobriety, my self. I had no idea who I was. I was the guy who wasn't good enough for Tweek. I was the guy who drove Tweek away.

I took out my phone, remembering Kenny's texts.

"Look, I'm sorry, I know I fucked up with Tweek and everything. But you have to know that I did it for you. I know you better than you know yourself, Craig, and Tweek isn't the one for you. I am."

"I know he means a lot to you and you miss him, but he's gone now. And I'm here."

"And I know that we're perfect for each other. We're the same, deep down, and you know it."

I was pissed again. How could he claim to know me? I didn't even know myself, but I knew Kenny was far from "perfect for me." At the same time, I couldn't deny that the same was true of Tweek.

He was definitely right about one thing: Tweek was gone and wanted nothing to do with me, and Kenny was here and in love with me.

But despite the logic pointing one way, I knew my heart was set in another direction. I started the car and checked my gas. Full tank.

Suddenly, I was full of adrenaline. I had to go to him, to prove to him that I could change. That despite the logic and the reasoning, the folly wasn't in staying together, but in letting go.

I put the car in drive, and slowly peeled out of my parking spot. I was drunk, but not too bad - I knew I couldn't drive all the way to Boston like this, but I could get to the airport, which was only a twenty-minute drive away and was accessable without getting on the freeway.

But as I picked up speed getting out of the parking lot, I screeched to a halt when, all of a sudden, a blonde-haired figure was standing a few feet in front of my car.