The beauty of things must be that they end.

―Jack Kerouac

Tweek's point of view:

It was near midnight and Kenny was leading me down the second floor staircase toward his car sitting idle in the parking lot. He'd shown up but ten minutes ago for a quick set of goodbyes as well as a boob-grab at the lady. I hadn't wanted to linger and stole away as quickly as I could. My mood was dampening progressively because this was it. The week was over; it was time to go back home. This was probably the most disappointing day of my life.

Kenny was in the midst of comforting me though he had no idea how much harder this was going to be than we'd originally estimated. Hanging out at Craig's apartment and acting as his art subject hadn't been on my agenda at least. He'd been hospitable and now I didn't want to leave. As I was thinking this, Clyde's girlfriend came rushing after us in a pair of her boyfriend's shoes that were a few sizes too big for her feet.

She came around to my side of the car―shotgun―with a knowing smile. I wasn't sure whether it was because my gigantic crush was obvious or if she knew that I'd lied or maybe I had forgotten something and she was just returning it. If it was the latter, well, there was no way I was getting back that section of my life that would remain forever with Craig, though it seemed the rest of my life was going to end up just the same. But that was alright. I trusted him with all of it.

"I'm going to ask you a question," she started, smile growing wider, "and I want an honest answer." Oh shit―please no, don't do this to me. It turned out not to be as bad as I thought. "Who was your first kiss?"

I grinned bitterly, not only because I'd lied but because it already ached to think about Craig's mouth. "His name was Trent," I said, and I couldn't even conjure an image of him because all I could see inside of my head was Craig. Craig Tucker and his godawful good looks.

Her features softened. I bet I looked pretty pitiful, standing there a liar just so I could kiss my crush. And here I was supposed to be an adult, twenty years old.

That's when she said something very peculiar, and my eyes were rapid as they made to connect with her's. I wasn't sure how to comprehend her words. They stopped my breath short. "You're going to make a big impact on Craig's life. And he's going to let it happen, because he's a pushover like that. You don't need to wait another four years, okay?"

When I tried to speak, she cut me off with a new smile turned sweet. "Don't make him wait that long. He's tough to reach, and I know you know that, but I think you've wasted enough time on him to also know that he's worth it. Right?" I was stunned, lost in the same paralyzed state I'd been in when Craig had kissed me. I was so busy trying to pick apart her meaning that I couldn't do anything more than stand there in utter confusion. There was hope and excitement too, but I didn't know how to benefit myself from those.

My nod was nearly dumb, just a wobbly bob of my head. "Good," she concluded, beginning to back away with light footfalls. I watched her and wished that she would stop walking because I wanted to hear more, to hear all of it. "It'll take some time for all of this to sink in―he's pretty oblivious when it comes to understanding his own emotions―but you'll be around each other for that, so this will be different, I'm sure. Just make sure to come back soon. Craig may be patient, but I'm not."

Patient? She made it sound like he had a crush on me. Don't make him wait that long? The reality of the situation was that he didn't even know he was waiting for anything. I was no closer to him emotionally than I've ever been, and the only reason I had a leg up on the physical side of our―I didn't even know what to call it―acquaintanceship was because he felt bad that I've "never kissed a guy". It really wasn't anything to celebrate and I didn't appreciate her getting my hopes up over something so insignificant.

The weight of my desire for him, those petty daydreams of mine where he'd make an appearance seeing as he couldn't in real life, or my thoughts focused so god damn hard on him all the time, didn't even compare to the stress of this reality. It bombarded me and I couldn't disentangle myself because all of it was true.

Craig was somewhere I was not, and it wasn't the hours of driving that separated us as much as it was the difference of success. He was moving too fast for me and I was stuck in a grungy old town with unbeatable health issues and a family business. There was no way out for me, and Craig Tucker didn't wait up for anyone. I liked that about him, even if it didn't include me, because honestly, why should it?

Thoughts like those made me angry, and I wanted to answer with something like: because when he goes out and does whatever he does at dorm parties, those people are as there for him as he is them. And I get it that even though he doesn't like people, at the time he's an intoxicated man, and shit happens. I totally understand that and I have no qualms because there is nobody who will ever like him as much as I do―nobody exists that cares more than me.

I want him to be cared for, and even though it was rare that I ever found self esteem inside myself, I knew that I was capable of doing that. Of being the one who cared.

My problem lay with the possibility that he may like someone more than me, that there is someone who exists that he cares more for. But he doesn't like me or anybody; he doesn't care for me or anybody. And if that's the way it has to be, then I'll live with that just as long as there is no one else. Honestly, I was borderline if-I-can't-have-him-then-nobody-can.

"You doing okay there, Tweekers?" Kenny asked. We've been on the road for a while, maybe an hour or so into the drive and probably halfway home. Halfway away from Craig.

I didn't allow myself enough time to compose myself before I murmured, "I'll be fine." My voice cracked and I really would've been fine had I not spoken, but when you're on the verge of crying and speak, there's absolutely no way to control yourself after that.

Buckling over, I jammed the heels of my palms into my eyes and hissed through my teeth like I could stop myself from acting like a baby. It didn't work and there were tears leaking down my wrists. I tried to do that thing where you hold your breath to keep from sobbing, except when I finally needed to breathe, I nearly exploded and did the exact opposite of my intentions. Hiccuping, I told Kenny not to make fun of me, that I just needed to cry and get it over with, that I'd feel better afterwards, that I just wanted to go home, and lying to him was so much easier because what I actually wanted to do was go back to Craig's and let him pass out on me for the rest of the night.

It was just that four years was finally coming out of me and I didn't know what I was supposed to do when they were finally gone.