A/N: so things will be picking up in the next couple of chapters. I'm just trying to set everything up ^~^" please bear with me! This is a little shorter (and suckier) than normal sorry. Please review, it means the world to me3 thank you c:

It was midnight. My gut was packed with cheap beef and my tongue was tingling from the hot taco sauce. My eyes were dry from staring at the giant TV at Token's mansion. The Red Racer marathon had ended an hour ago. We were watching Hostel now. Clyde was lying on the floor, Tweek was on the leather couch beside me, cowering under a fleece blanket. He's never done well with horror movies. Token sat in the recliner, his head cocked sideways staring at the screen, analyzing it like a logic puzzle.

"So the whole thing is a game played by rich men?" he asked slowly, choosing his words as though he was in class.

I nod, "Elite Hunting. It's based on a website Eli Roth and Quentin Tarantino found that offered someone an opportunity to walk into a room and shoot someone in the head for ten thousand dollars."

Tweek jumped and shrieked, "Oh my god, dude! What if somebody kidnaps me and tortures me for fun!"

We ignored Tweek. "Dude," Clyde gurgled. He was in and out of a Taco Bell coma.

Token looked perplexed. "So what's the moral of this story?"

"Don't go to Slovakia."

Tweek was literally shaking, peeking out from under his safety blanket. He was on a lot of meds now for his intense paranoia, but sometimes we all thought it was fun to set him off like this. He still couldn't handle horror movies at all. I mean the last time we watched Nightmare on Elm Street, he didn't sleep for two weeks until he literally had to be sedated. Yeah, we all felt a little guilty for that one.

Token was silent for a few minutes. There wasn't much movie left in Hostel. The main character was fighting his way out at this point with the Asian lady. I put my elbow on the arm of the couch and laid my head on my hand, staring at the screen. "Token, your silence is unsettling, even to me," I said bluntly after a couple more minutes went by.

"I'm wondering if my dad has ever done anything like this," he said, his eyes still narrow.

"Seriously?"

"No, dude, my dad is a black man. If he wanted to get blamed for shooting someone, he would just walk outside wearing a hoodie and somebody would eventually call the police."

I laughed at that. Clyde snored. Tweek screamed again. Tonight, I was away from that shit at school. It was all over. Whatever. I'll deal with it in the morning. Right now, it's just Craig and those guys. Nobody else.

Tweek started leaning on me, and that was okay. What was not okay were his nails digging into my calf. Someone else died and he yelped and dug into my skin harder. I winced and bit my lip, trying not to yell out. Finally, the movie ended. I stood up and pulled the blanket off of the coward. Token and Clyde were both completely gone.

"Tweek, come with me to the roof," I said, looking with pity at the boy.

"NO! What if somebody snatches us!" his eyes were panicked.

"I'll protect you, then," I replied, offering my hand.

He stopped shaking a little, sitting up. "Can we get a w-weapon?"

I nodded. Tweek took my hand, and on the way up the stairs, I grabbed the bat off of the wall where Mr. Black kept it in case of robberies, even though they lived in the middle of nowhere with a fucking security system that God himself couldn't break through. Tweek held a death grip onto my hand. We did this almost every single time we came over to Token's house. Clyde was a lightweight and so was Token. Tweek was an insomniac, and I just always fell asleep last.

We crawled up onto the roof through an open window on the top floor of the mansion. It was twelve-thirty, maybe, and it was pitch black outside. It was cold out, and I was wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and socks, but I didn't really care. Tweek shivered, either from the cold or fear. Probably both. Poor jittery bastard.

"Tweek, breathe in." He breathed in. "Breathe out." He breathed out. "Okay, it's okay. Nobody's coming to get you. This is a boring, shitty town. It's not Slovakia. You're gonna be fine," I soothed. Tweek was one of those people that I had some sympathy for, and I just toned everything down a notch around him when he regressed like this.

Tweek took two more deep breaths. "Okay. I'm going," he breathed again, "to be okay." Tweek laid down on the rooftop. I followed suit. The stars were beautiful, really. You don't see this shit in the city. The sky was littered with white dots, big and small. Somewhere in the distance you saw glowing yellow; that was the city. Light pollution, man.

"Sorry," Tweek whispered. I shrugged. I was getting tired, to be honest. It was kind of late. Tweek apologized a lot. He always has. I think he feels guilty because his parents are misguided. They love him a lot, but they don't show it well, and they make him scared and jumpy. But they're better now than when he was eight, because Tweak Bros closed down. It was okay, because Mr. Tweak started working at Harbucks with his wife. Tweek didn't work though. He's too shakey, and getting people's drink right is "too much pressure"

Tweek sat up quickly and I did the same. What was this stupid twiggy kid doing? It's too damn late for this shit. Jesus. My eyes had adjusted to the dark, and now I could see more than just silhouettes. Tweek gnawed on the corner of his thumbnail, curling his knobby knees into his chest and wrapped his gangly arms around them. I stared at him for a minute. This motherfucker really was a complete nutcase.

"Sorry I pulled your hair," he said all of the words really fast, all at once. I nodded. "Is that why you cut it off?" he asked, gnawing on the thumb nail.

I ran my fingers through my short black hair. "No," I said.

"Oh. Okay," he sounded relieved. A couple seconds of silence went by. "Why did you cut it?" he asked, looking at me. I shrugged. "D-don't shrug at me."

"How could you tell I shrugged. It's pitch black out here."

"I have secret night vision, Craig. Duh," Tweek said, as if I'd just asked what 2 + 2 was. "Seriously, asshole, w-why did you cut your hair?"

"Why do you wanna know." I asked raising my eyebrow.

"Just cause!" He blurted out.

I laughed, "Dude, I just felt like cutting it off. Snip snip…" I looked around. The silence got awkward. Really awkward. With absolutely no warning, I felt Tweek's lips pressed against mine. His lips were chapped and they tasted like dark roast coffee and light cigarettes. I kissed back, and he dug his fingers into the back of my hair. He pulled away before I did. "That's why I wanted to know," he whispered.