Tweek retreated to his room after a long day of school. (And a little bit of spying on Craig at football practice, in those deliciously tight pants.) It was about five o' clock, or so.
'Perfect timing,' Tweek thought, tying the strip of cloth around his upper arm tighter. The dull light from outside barely filtered through the thick curtains that Tweek had fashioned to his windows. Slivers of angular light beat down on Tweek's pitiful arm as the golden liquid began to pulse through his veins.
Tweek sighed as relief started to set in. His abused left arm started to feel numb and heavy. He let out a hiss of hot breath as he retracted the needle from his skin, setting it beside him on the mattress. He leaned back heavily against the headboard of his bed. His eyes were wet, and he wiped at them with his right hand, unable to move his left arm for the time being. His trembling form heaved over, but he wasn't going to let himself throw up. He hunched his shoulders and screwed his eyes shut.
It didn't take long for the euphoric buzz he had been longing for to travel through his blood and to his head. His frail body shook and his head lolled back. The feeling was equivalent to some of the very best orgasms he had ever had— maybe better.
Tweek groaned and eventually pulled himself out of bed, padding over to his desk. He plopped down, ready to start his homework. Heroin made focusing on things so much easier. It settled him down, and made him... well, smart. He felt so good. He didn't care how much homework he had. He felt so great.
"Mmm."
The graphite glided across the college ruled paper smoothly, and Tweek reveled in the sensation. He could hear the grate of he lead running against the surface and it sounded so good. Tweek licked his lips. Before he knew it, he was three quarters done with his research paper. He was so smart. Everything was so great.
"Orange Crush" by R.E.M. began to resound in his ears and he hummed along to it— fuck, wait, that was his phone ringing. He reached over, and nimble fingers wrapped around the little box that he so often thumbed text messages into. He flipped it open.
"Nh, hello?"
"Tweek. Have you started that paper yet?"
It was Craig. His voice sounded smooth like an alibi, like vanilla smoke.
"Yeah, I'm—GAH, actually almost done with it, man."
Craig smiled into the receiver. "I'm impressed. Wanna hang out?"
Tweek wanted to hang out. Of course he did. But he couldn't, not when he was still like this— it'd be a few more hours until he was back to normal. "Have you finished your paper?"
"Hm, downright ignoring my request to spend time with my best friend. Who cares if I finished my paper? Let's hang out." Tweek could practically hear Craig's smirk through the phone.
"C-Craig, that is WAY too much pressure. We have to finish these papers, an-and, urk, um... Maybe tomorrow?"
"Great, I'll be over in five." Click.
"M-man, shit!" Tweek shrieked, scrambling to pick up his vials and bags of golden brown that littered the floor. He shoved them under his bed, and began to tidy the rest of his room. Every object that touched his hands seemed to leave an imprint, and it felt so great to touch things.
He pulled at his hair, looking for any other evidence that may or may not be scattered about his room.
Craig already knew that Tweek had been shooting up. He found out about a year ago, only 5 months after Tweek had started doing it. It was just, the disappointment. Craig was hurt by it really bad at first. He punched Tweek as hard as he could, and that black eye took a long time to go away. Tweek was sure that he still had scar tissue from it. They never made up properly— it was more so Craig showing up to Tweek's a couple days later and fucking him until he couldn't breathe.
Not another word was mentioned about Tweek's addiction since then.
Tweek pulled the sleeves of his shirt down, and man, they were so, so soft. Tweek mashed his knuckles together in thought, like his friend, Butters often did.
He laughed softly, picturing innocent little Butters' nervous habit. Although, Butters wasn't quite so innocent now, apparently. Through the grape vine, Tweek had learned of a rumor that he and Kenny were boning— which was strange, because Tweek never thought that Kenny would have liked dick. Kenny was a fucking womanizer. It was a weird thought, but—
Tweek's shoulders stiffened as a pair of arms circled around his waist. "C-Craig?"
He felt lips on his neck, and shit, shit, this felt great anyway, but with the drugs, it was even better. His whole body shook as he turned to face the taller boy.
"Gah, when'd you get here?"
"Geeze, Tweekers. I told you I'd be five minutes. Stoner."
Tweek laughed the remark off, and his numb arms found Craig's neck. "I didn't even hear you come in or open the door or anything," Tweek rasped, feeling Craig's presence all around him. His hands were everywhere. He felt himself lifted onto the bed and into Craig's lap. "Mmh, I miss you," Tweek didn't really know what he was saying. All he knew was that he felt so good, and he didn't want this to stop.
"I know," Craig replied against the smaller boy's ear, pulling him flush against him in his lap. He rolled his hips up a bit, grinding the bulge in his pants against Tweek's ass. Cue slutty noises from said boy.
Tweek's thighs hugged Craig's waist a little tighter with the motion. He leaned in and kissed Craig harshly, their noses bumping. Craig's tongue ring click click clicked over each of Tweek's front teeth. The sensation was wonderful.
Their mouths came together and broke apart again and again, a mess of tongue, teeth, and bruised lips. Tweek let himself lose control when he felt Craig's velvet tongue moving in tiny circles over his own. He tasted like cigarettes and gatorade.
Their tongues slid around and over each other over and over and over and it seemed like such a sloppy kiss, but it was all under control. Tweek let out a long sigh when Craig's mouth migrated to the crook of his neck, his pearly whites sinking into his milky skin. His tongue replaced his teeth, and Tweek could feel that little blue stud in the center of Craig's tongue, sliding over his neck, shoulders, neck again.
His body shuddered with pleasure; Craig was all over him, kissing, nipping, biting, licking, warm breath, bite, lick, kiss. Tweek's mind was swimming somewhere that his body wasn't. They were in two different oceans, but both of them were amazing. Tweek reattached his mouth to Craig's, running his tongue over the raven's bottom lip.
Craig's hands were busy working at Tweek's jeans, rubbing slowly at his growing hard on.
"Fffffuck, Craig. Just fuck me," Tweek panted, arching into every touch.
Tweek could feel everything that was happening in panels like vivid images, and could separate them and feel them individually. Sex with Craig was great— it was even better on drugs.
Craig panicked.
"What the fuck is Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome? Am I gonna lose control of my limbs or something?"
Craig's hands were shaking. He had come to get a physical so that he could continue to play football next season. He wasn't expecting there to be anything wrong with him. There was never anything wrong with him. He couldn't remember the last time he was sick.
The doctor swallowed. "Mr. Tucker, you have AIDS."
The world stopped. The entire world stopped. Everything was silent. All Craig could hear was his heart pounding in his head. He sat there for what seemed like hours, processing the information. No.
No.
"No. No I don't. You must have mixed up the blood sample with someone else's," Craig insisted frantically. His voice rose with each word.
"Mr. Tucker, your blood test—"
"Stop fucking calling me that!" Craig clenched his fists angrily. God, no. This wasn't happening. His stomach clenched and churned. He felt like he was going to puke.
"No, no, no, no," Craig repeated over and over to himself. No. No. No. No, no no no no no no no.
In what seemed like no time, Craig had stormed out of Hell's Pass hospital, and his foot was jammed down on the gas. His head was spinning. He weaved in and out of traffic carelessly. Nothing mattered except where he was going.
And he knew exactly where he was going.
Craig's fist hammered against the large brown door he was standing in front of. After what seemed like a very long waiting period, a surprised (but cheerful, as always) Mrs. Tweak answered. "Well, hey there Craig! I assume you're here to see Tweek."
Craig nodded. "You bet I am," he grated.
As he was let into the house, his jaw tightened. Up the stairs, one, two, three, four, five.
Six. Seven.
Eight.
"C-Craig? Urk! Hey what's up, you didn't call—"
Tweek was jerked up by the collar and slammed against the wall. His head cracked against the panelling and he let out a hiss. He grit his teeth and attempted to swat Craig away, but it did no good. Not this time.
"You motherfucker." Fists tighten.
"Craig, what the hell is your deal, man? Gah!"
"How long have you known?"
"Ugh, known what?"
Craig slammed Tweek against the wall again in frustration.
"You gave me AIDS, you piece of shit." He let Tweek go, and he fell to the floor in a little lump of blonde hair and green shirt.
Tweek's eyes were as big as saucers. Fuck. No, God no. He had meant to tell Craig. He swore to almighty fucking God that he did. How could it have possibly slipped his mind? He fucking wanted to tell Craig that night! And what did he do?
He had sex with him.
He didn't just have sex with him. He got completely fucked up, out of his mind. Then, he savagely fucked him. Like he would never get to again.
Shaking. Horrible shaking. Tweek couldn't stop shaking. His head also shook, back and forth, disbelief. He opened his mouth, but he couldn't find words. He found that he couldn't make a sound at all. He wanted to tell him everything. He wanted to apologize.
But what would apologizing do? Jesus, they were both fucked.
Before Tweek could manage a sound at all, Craig attacked him. He pinned him to the floor and began to beat the fuck out of him. His fists smashed into everything that they could possibly manage. Eyes. Nose. Mouth. Teeth. Head. Ears. Neck. Ribs. Stomach. Groin.
Craig's knuckles struck Tweek's face again and again until he was unrecognizable. Blood spattered across Tweek's hardwood floor, his clothes, all over Craig's face and hands.
Tweek got the energy to push Craig off of him, and he stood. He stumbled, taking haggard breaths. "C-Craig, I'm sorry..."
Craig's eyes bored into Tweek's skull. His shoulders rose and fell with each heavy breath.
"Craig Tucker," Tweek breathed, blood practically pouring from his face. His eyes lowered, and his bloody mouth curved upward into an ugly smile. "Hit me again."
A/N: OKAY FINALLY. Sorry that this took so damn long to get out, I'm graduating in a week and I have a lot of stuff I'm doing. Exams are this week, so wish me luck! C: More reviews give me more motivation to write! ;D