Double update this week because today I'm graduating high school and my mood couldn't be any more proud, productive, content, satisfied, ready, et cetera because the list of things I'm feeling right now goes beyond my ability to describe or explain. And I actually wrote the previous sentence a few days ago because that's what I thought I'd be feeling right now, but in actuality, everything is so surreal and I feel like absolutely nothing. This is crazy. Hahaha.

It is only too true that a lot of artists are mentally ill—it's a life which, to put it mildly, makes one an outsider. I'm all right when I completely immerse myself in work, but I'll always remain half crazy.

—Vincent van Gogh

"We should go out for dinner," Token suggested despite it being eight at night.

"McDonalds it is," Clyde snickered.

We were all situated on the couch, remarkably so. My two best friends were spooning near the middle, Pretty Lady was flipping through the television channels with her legs overlapping theirs, Kenny was stretched out in the back, and Clyde had his head resting in my lap. Tweek was positioned at the edge, one of the dogs on his legs, the other pawing at his feet, whimpering at what little attention they were receiving. Our couch wasn't necessarily the biggest, but because it was a circle, it managed to fit everyone.

"IHOP," Tweek recommended. I could see him being the breakfast-all-day kind of guy. Cinnamon french toast lathered in syrup, a cup of hot chocolate, and scrambled eggs unsalted because he didn't want to clog his arteries. It made sense. Village Inn, Paradise Bakery, Souper Salad—those were the places he ate at, I was sure. Not steakhouses like Outback or Texas Roadhouse.

"Let's do it," I said, but it was one of those deals where nobody moved. In fact, I reclined so that I was more comfortable.

"Who's driving?" Pretty Lady asked.

Nobody offered so eventually Kenny said, "I guess we could all fit in my truck."

"Yeah," Tweek scoffed. "The bed. I hate it when you put people back there."

"Dude, that's the best place to ride," Clyde said.

"You've obviously never done so," I added, speaking to Tweek. "Otherwise you'd be all for it."

"It's not safe," he told us.

That's when we started saying things like: "Only if you throw someone overboard," and "You'll be the first to go."

"Way to tag team the shit out of him," Token laughed, sitting up to clap Tweek on the back. The blonde was rigged and practically snapped into pieces at my friend's touch. "I don't like sitting in the bed very much; we can take the front with Kenny."

"Thanks for leaving me with the assholes, Token. Now I'm going to be the one going overboard," Pretty Lady grumbled.

"Yeah you are," her boyfriend promised.

"Damn it," Token swore. "Sorry, Tweek. I'm a gentleman. I have to save the damsel."

"Tweek's gay, though," I said. "He's basically a woman." Everyone laughed whereas Tweek gave me an unamused look over his shoulder. "What? I'm helping you out, bro—I mean little miss."

His jaw dropped. I could've made a gay joke, but I didn't want to push my luck. "I'm not sitting in the bed."

"You sound so sure about that," Kenny sniggered.

Tweek had just enough time to glare at him before Pretty Lady said, "I suppose I could trade my spot in the truck for the one in the bed if you kiss Craig again." His features were utterly blank for a moment, though his blood knew just how to react. A blush burst across his cheeks, and he must've felt the heat, because his eyes widened suddenly. The color in his face brought out their lovely green hue. I wanted to paint him in that instant and knew that when I did get the chance to do so, he'd be blushing when I did. I'd make him if I had to. I'd sit at my easel naked just as long as it got his cheeks to turn that exact shade of bubblegum pink.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. His lips looked nice, full and shapely in their state of shock. It was a good emotion on him, I decided. My gaze moved to settle on Clyde's girlfriend who was grinning slyly. "You planned this," I accused her, suspicious of what she was trying to gain. Did she have some secret homosexual fetish that we didn't know about?

"I wouldn't say planned." Her grin grew more sinister. "I just saw an opportunity and took it."

"Must've been a pretty tempting opportunity," I snorted, tipping over and wiggling around until I was relatively close to Tweek. He was staring down at me, his blush expanding across the bridge of his nose. A smirk curled the corners of my lips. His look of steady bewilderment amused me. "It's not like we haven't been here before." I made the joke to ease the tension and motioned for him to come on down.

As Tweek leaned over me from the opposite direction—our kiss would be upside down—Token said, "This can be our new tradition. Every day Tweek and Craig have to give each other a kiss for our entertainment." Kenny seconded that proposition, followed by Pretty Lady. Clyde swore under his breath something about we need to get some straight people up in here, causing the blonde to smile just as our mouths touched. He had to turn away for a second and giggle before giving me an actual kiss with his soft lips.

"I feel like Spiderman," he admitted as he pulled away. His eyes were exuberant just as they'd been the first time we'd kissed. I was enamored by them. "And you're Mary Jane." Just keep looking at me with those eyes and I'll be your Mary Jane for as long as you'd like, little miss.

"Is he your favorite superhero?" His blush darkened and he mumbled an affirmative. I couldn't help but laugh to which he looked offended in a way that stemmed from embarrassment. "You have a crush on Spiderman."

"What? I—yeah, okay. Maybe a small one." Clyde rolled off the couch whining about being stuck with such a gay fuck, and when his girlfriend commented that she found it cute, his whimpers grew more heightened.

"So that's who your cockblock crush is? The one your boyfriend broke up with you over?" Tweek choked on his next breath, staring at me incredulously. Kenny literally blew up with laughter beside me, even punched me for being so goddamn funny with a strength I didn't know he possessed. It hurt and I regretted joking about the unrequited love of Tweek's life immediately.

The remaining three who didn't know about this matter started questioning the blonde who was still attempting to catch his breath. It could've been taken as an insult how nobody could believe he'd ever had a boyfriend, but it was understandable. I'd been surprised upon hearing it, too. "The l-least you could've done was say that I broke up with him," he hissed. Another intense round of laughter came from Kenny. "You should let me punch you for that, asshole."

Pretty Lady was quick to agree. "Yeah, Craig. That was a low blow." She had it out for me today, was even going as far as to appear smug as my punching lesson backfired on me.

"My jaw's already starting to bruise," Kenny informed thoughtfully as I made to get off the couch and stand. I flipped him off, assuming a position as I waited for Tweek to gently shoo the dog off his lap. He came to stand in front of me, this big ass prideful smile consuming his pretty little face.

"You know I'm not punching you in the jaw, right?" He asked, sniggering this mad sound that made me remember his threat from earlier: Yeah, well next time it's going to be your dick. Although it'd been addressed to Kenny, I guessed now that I'd wronged him, it went either way. Tweek Tweak was a venomous bastard.

Clyde, Token, and Kenny were clapping their hands, laughing hysterically amongst themselves while Pretty Lady was showing Tweek how to give a gnarly looking uppercut or something—whatever it was made me feel like a emperor on the brink of demise. This short, gay thing was going to obliterate my rein and I was going to let him. Fuck. I covered my face with my hands and was just about to say my goodbyes to the Julibeagles when his fist connected with my crotch and all I could think for one colossal second was, You heinous prick. He waited for nothing, went straight to the point and that was it.

My body keeled over and Tweek was there to envelope me as I began to fold in on myself like a dying spider.

I couldn't concentrate on anything but the crumpling of my entire body and my racing thoughts of, He's a little fucking sour gummy thing. Tweek eased me to the ground. He's a fucking sour patch kid. Those things in the commercials that did terrible, terrible things and then made up for it by being so goddamn sweet. That's what he was trying to do. He was trying to make it up to me by saying, "I can't believe you just let me do that. You deserve to be Spiderman. I'm sorry for calling you Mary Jane. I'm s-so sorry, Craig."

All of this was sounding vaguely familiar and I mimicked Kenny without even thinking about it, too occupied with caressing my stinging crotch to actually think about what I was saying or how Tweek had shoved Kenny aside just after. "There's only one thing that you can do to earn my forgiveness." I tipped sideways against the blonde and he clumsily plopped down on his butt. Groaning, I made a show of burrowing my face against his throat, just a bit desperate for some ice and maybe a new wiener. It just really sucked because I liked the original one even if it was defective. The only positive at this moment was that the blonde smelt like a bakery. Fresh and warm and homely.

"I'm going to let that one slide because you're delirious," he said, and was generous enough to scratch the back of my head just the way I liked it. The tension in my shoulders lessened and my hands went slack between my legs. I let out one giant sigh before relaxing completely, a victim to his fingers raking across my scalp.

"You're a demon," I mumbled. It occurred to me then that everyone was laughing about how I'd shrunk in on myself upon impact and how tormented I sounded whenever I spoke. I was idly aware of Token excusing himself so he could grab his camera.

After a few pictures where Tweek was instructed to "pretend like you're wringing his neck", and once I was capable of standing, we left to go to IHOP. Clyde's girlfriend had gotten her way and was sitting in the bed with her boyfriend and I to which we pretended to toss her over the sides whenever we came across a stoplight. She didn't appreciate it. By the time we got to the 24-hour restaurant, I was a new man. I even held the door open for everyone and everything, said that I'd get the bill and let Tweek take my seat even though I loved that seat and always sat there at every table, although it seemed that he was the same way—just a little more crazy about it. Throughout his numerous apologies he managed to explain that if he didn't sit in that exact seat, nothing would be right for the duration of the night.

"Don't sweat it, dude. I don't need to sit there, so if you do, that's okay." I sat across from him instead, but this guy was relentless. He kept mumbling about how maybe he could try to sit somewhere else, and that ended with me thunking my head against the table continuously. Kenny kept elbowing me in the ribs like see, now you get to deal with it, too. Tweek ended his spiel full of stutters with how he was just going to get some orange juice. "You're not getting coffee?" I asked, just as our waitress arrived.

I could remember waiting on people back in South Park as one of my first jobs. It'd sucked because all of the people back there had no manners regarding people or food.

"I don't know, man. They're e-expensive," was his reason.

Sighing, I looked up at the woman. My first thought was, Kenny's getting with her tonight. She was a pretty little thing with rich brown eyes, nearly black they were so dark. I pointed at Tweek just as I said, "He wants a coffee. I don't know what, he just wants a coffee." His booted foot jut out to kick me beneath the table. It took me by surprise at first but I managed to grab his leg before it retreated. "You little shit," I snickered.

He grinned, wiggling his foot around in my hands as he ordered something with the word Swiss in it. I wasn't really paying attention in my attempt to take his boot off and I didn't even make a dent up until drink orders were placed where I had to ask him, "What kind of contraption is this?" Clyde had ordered for me I was so stumped by Tweek's footwear.

When the waitress was gone, I replaced her presence with the blonde's skinny leg and my lap. "This is stupid," I grumbled, thoroughly distressed by what I found. It was a mere ankle boot, but there were zippers and buckles scattered all over the place. To be honest, I supposed it looked good, fashionable, but the two of us weren't on good terms at the moment. And then Tweek lifted his foot, bent over his leg, undid one of the zippers and slipped the boot right off. He held it out to me like a piece offering. "I don't want it anymore." I'd said it like a child and I was laughed at for it.

What I really wanted to do was take his sock off. His foot was confined by one that was simple and black and my immediate reaction was to remove it so I could tickle it. Instead, I snatched his boot away to shimmy it back into place. Tweek was enjoying the attention, sitting snugly against the booth, sipping at his water, eyelids lowered as though he were trying to hide the vivaciousness showing in his eyes.

Unfortunately, I didn't have any sketchbooks hidden in IHOP. All I could do was stare and memorize. I guessed this was where being a photographer like Token won out over the time it took to draw and paint and commit features to memory. For the briefest moments, Tweek caved and raised his eyes. They met mine only to dart away rapidly, just a flash of green. His cheeks took that moment to ignite and he turned his head entirely. It was on impulse that I reached out and lightly tapped his cheek to get him to right his head.

"Are you two ever going to look at your menus?" Pretty Lady asked, feigning exasperation.

Just when I said "Clyde can order for me," Tweek said "I know what I'm getting."

"What are you getting?" I asked.

"Cinnamon French Toast."

"Dude!" I exclaimed, momentarily a genius. "I knew it! And hot chocolate and scrambled eggs without salt, right?"

The blonde cocked his head to the side. "Uh—no."

"Oh." I returned to my customary state of boring.

"Sometimes Craig thinks he can foretell what people are going to order," Token explained just as our waitress returned with a tray of drinks.

"Hey, I got the first one right." The girl began to distribute our drinks as she named them off. Tweek got this monstrous bowl of coffee with whipped cream, Pretty Lady some fancy looking beverage. She gave me Root Beer. "Really, dude?" My question was directed toward Clyde. He was my best friend and knew that I hated Root Beer.

Just as I made to take a sip anyways, he started laughing and said, "I'm just fucking with you, dude. Here." He switched me sodas. A Root Beer for a Pepsi. That's right.

"Prick," I scolded, leaning across Kenny to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I love you."

Clyde rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I love you, too." I was pleased when he puffed out his cheeks and we did a pufferfish kiss, pressing our lips together and smashing each others faces until the air rushed out.

Kenny pointed toward the dark-eyed waitress in offering, saying, "I love you."

Her eyes narrowed, but she was smiling, and when Kenny winked, she gave him this little grin that definitely said something along the lines of yeah, we'll be fucking later. "Are you all ready to order or do you need a minute?" She asked.

Token lifted a hand to let her know he was ready. "I'd like a new group of friends. Please." And then he smiled charmingly, continuing with his actual order.

"I don't think I like what you said back there," I told him once all of our orders were placed and Kenny's latest victim was gone.

"Yeah," Clyde agreed, glaring at our best friend.

"Seriously?" Token asked, tossing his head back against the booth with his hands over his face. He knew what was coming.

I echoed Clyde. "Yeah."

"Yeah," the brunette said again. We looked at each other and grinned.

"Yeah," I said for a second time just to rub it in.

Pretty Lady put her chin in her hand, her elbow on the table. "They do this all the time," she informed the two blondes. "Token has the worst friends ever."

"Hey!" Clyde was quick to scold her.

It only made sense for me to follow. "Hey."

"Okay." Token relented. "Okay, you guys. Who's first?" Clyde and I began to go on a rampage, repeatedly muttering "me" back and forth until our friend lost it and practically lugged the brunette closer to plant a big kiss on his mouth. He turned to me next and I had to extend my body across the table to receive my kiss.

"Your kisses," I started as I leaned back in my seat, "they light up my life."

"Shut your mouth," Token laughed.

"Only if you call him a dirty whore," Clyde promised. We high-fived above Kenny's head.

"I'm not calling him that."

"I don't know how you've put up with them for so many years," Pretty Lady remarked.

I smiled because I liked to think about how long it's honestly been. Preschool. Every time I thought about it, it blew my mind. Not only the length of our friendship, but that we used to be so little. We'd had no idea where we would be when we were twenty-one, never once comprehended that age or place. Things just used to exist and be and nothing was ever the matter. I'd been so devastated when all of that changed, when I saw that it was Ruby who existed and just was and that I couldn't be a part of that anymore.

Growing up was an awful thing. Having to learn how to care was even worse. Not necessarily about people—though of course Token and Clyde were a given—but about consequences and considering options. Payments, bills, keeping a job, graduating school, getting into college, checking in on Ruby to make sure she hadn't been impregnated by some sick fuck. It was hard and I was still learning and I didn't ever think I'd get the hang of it.

The look Tweek was giving me returned me from my stupor. He had this suppressed smirk like he was trying not to laugh at me. "What?"

"You've had bedhead all day," he confessed.

"Oh?" It didn't really mean anything to me, but it did to him, so I humored his confession.

He nodded his head. "Your hair's sticking up everywhere." I ran a hand through my locks and could feel their disarray between my fingers. I must've had a good sleep last night.

"You can fix it for me when we get home." His brows knit together, confused. "Wash it for me and stuff."

"Really?" He asked, appearing genuinely excited by my offer. And then he turned conniving. "Why not just go get a free wash at your work?"

"Alright." I shrugged my shoulders. "I can do that too. Tomorrow or something." And then I turned conniving. "But tonight you get to do it for me."

Tweek was smiling all the way up until our food arrived and that's where it dimmed to placate for the presence of his meal, probably thinking he'd look pretty chummy just gazing starry-eyed at his bread. He must've been stoked to finally get to clean something. I'm sure it's been nagging at him since he showed up knowing that he'd be sleeping and temporarily living in all of this stuff his brain perceived as dirty.

Our waitress even brought out a new friend for Token to acquaint with: create-a-face pancake. Clyde and I didn't like her so we asked if we could get her to go, knowing exactly how to punish her buttermilk face and banana slice lips for attempting to steal our best friend. "That cunt better not have been put on the check," I threatened to no one in particular. I just wanted to get my point across and eat easy—though that was virtually impossible because when Craig Tucker ate, Craig Tucker ate good.

By no means was I a messy eater. Food wasn't shoveled blindly into my mouth. My plate wasn't there and then gone. I didn't race my own hand to get food inside my mouth. I didn't barrel down chunks or talk with my mouth full. Instead, I paced myself and inhaled everything steadily. I was a marathon runner in food-eater form. The majority of pieces were cut into sizable bites and my plate was nearly spotless afterwards, absent crumbs or unwanted bits and pieces. I'd been born with an appetite that could acquire every taste. My palette was diverse. There was nothing I couldn't or wouldn't eat. I tried anything.

And when my favorite part of dinner came—the part where everyone gave me their leftovers—oh, it was a glorious moment in the life of Craig Tucker. I was given both dinner and breakfast because Pretty Lady hadn't been able to finish her crepes, rather focused on her fruit salad instead, and Clyde couldn't do away with his meal of one too many combinations. I hadn't ordered breakfast and neither had Token, a thing of which he'd passed down to me on account of having a rather substantial lunch. I'm pretty sure the only reason Kenny gave me some of his food was just to see if I actually had the stomach to eat it, and by the time that was conquered, Tweek was staring at me as though he were frightened.

Just knowing that miss create-a-face was sitting two seats across from me, whole and untouched—it practically killed me.

I was like a garbage disposal in a sink that devoured anything and everything.

I am the food disposal.

"Are you aware of how much f-food you just ate?" The astonished blonde asked. He'd barely gotten through two of his four pieces of cinnamon french toast. Props to finishing his scrambled eggs, though. Salted scrambled eggs, damn it. He could've gotten bacon or sausage with his meal but had declined, leading me to figure that he could quite possibly be some type of vegetarian.

Pretty Lady explained in my defense. "He has to eat everyone's leftovers. It can't be taken home otherwise it's no good. To him at least."

"By the time it gets home it's bland," I added. "But—" I stood up, causing my three roommates to groan unanimously. They've seen this so many times it was no longer cute. Lifting up my shirt, I said, "Look at my baby chub." I gazed down at it proudly: my temporary, protruding gut.

"Oh my God," Tweek laughed, sharing a wry look with Kenny. "Okay. Yeah. That's adorable." I grinned cheekily. Of course it was. "Can I touch it?"

This got me to laugh. "By all means, touch away." I shot a look to either of my friends and the woman. "See, it's still just as charming as always."

"This is the first time they've seen it, Craig," Pretty Lady snorted. "Of course it's going to be charming. It charmed us right into feed you some more the first time."

"And a few times after that," I recalled just as Tweek outstretched his hand and cupped the slightly rounded pudge collected near my naval. His fingers were fragile and warm and I kind of felt like a pregnant woman.

My stomach grumbled against those dainty fingers; the blonde stared up at me blankly. "Well then." Our friends started laughing. "Desert sounds wonderful," I said.

After tossing miss create-a-face over the bed of the truck while going ninety down the freeway, I ended up in the bathroom with Tweek. Clyde was pissed because he hadn't gotten to use it first and began a whining tantrum outside the door when I told him we'd be a while. Too bad for him. The blonde thought it was just the funniest thing making my best friend wait. I guessed someone was already using Token's bathroom, another unfortunate circumstance for the brunette.

"Make sure you scrub good," I reminded for the sake of reminding, sure that cleaning every strand of hair spotless was a forte of his. Just as long as he didn't try to burn off the bacteria, he could perform whatever purifying technique he wanted. Currently he had me bent over the faucet in the tub, warm water pouring over my head. "If you have some super sanitary shampoo, you can use that." It was meant to be a teasing remark, but Tweek answered seriously, saying he'd much rather use my own. I smirked knowingly. "Smells good, right?"

He smacked my butt with the bottle before plunging his fingers into my hair to make sure the locks were fully saturated. "Sit up," he instructed, positioning me so that I was straddling the wall of the tub. Water drizzled onto my bare shoulders. The droplets tickled as they scattered down my back, chest, and biceps. Tweek put himself behind me with a dollop of shampoo shared by both hands.

This time when his fingers interwove throughout my locks, there was a significant movement in which they stimulated the soap in my hair, lathering and massaging. It felt damn good, the kneading of my scalp and the plushness of the shampoo's foamy texture. Tweek had ideal hands for this kind of thing. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back, body practically humming in relaxation. I've always loved getting my hair washed but this one in particular was certainly becoming my favorite. He even did that thing where the index and middle fingers—or maybe it was just the first—I worked in a salon and didn't even know—gave a good rub to the space just before my ears. That was a weakness of mine.

Something like a mixture of a groan and a chuckle drizzled from my mouth. "You're good at this," I professed, voice nearly a growl. I heard Tweek grin just as he turned his wrists up and stroked his fingertips against the bottom of my hairline and then just behind my ears. The blonde's presence warmed my exposed back and I could tell when sometimes he was closer than others. This entire experience was just mind-bogglingly fantastic from his nails that would, every now and then, rake against my scalp to how he worked the shampoo into the length of my hair, not focusing solely on just my roots.

"Alright," Tweek said. "Now let me see before you get back under the water." He wanted to witness whatever awesome hairstyle he'd concocted on top of my head. So I did as told and spun around to face him. Instantly, he broke into a smile, reaching out to play with a few strands with his soapy hands until he was satisfied.

"Cute, right?"

His smile widened. "Very."

I nodded, satisfied myself, and returned my head to the faucet.

Tweek stood over me, one leg in the tub, his jeans rolled up to his calves, hands returned to my hair. For a second time I wanted to tickle him, but I was afraid he'd slip and fall and crack his head and then he'd have permanent brain damage and end up scarred for life and never let me draw him again. It would be an untimely demise for the both of us.

After conditioning and a final rinse as well as a quick towel rapidly rubbed around my head for a minute, Tweek took to finger combing my damp hair away from my face. There was a soft light in his eyes almost muting their green hue, but not in a way that took away from the color, and I thought that if I could draw him, I'd be able to read what it meant, but Kenny was knocking on the door saying something about how he needed to talk to me real quick. The blonde snatched his hand away hurriedly, cheeks doing what they always did.

"Thank you," I told him and left before he could try to stutter out some inaudible reply. Kenny pulled me into my room, turned the light on, and shut the door until it just barely met the doorframe, leaving a sliver of space.

"I'm leaving and probably won't be back until tomorrow," he began.

"Isabelle?" The girl from IHOP.

"Yeah buddy." He grinned and quirked his brows. "But I fully intend for Tweek to survive this visit, so I'm going to tell you what you need to know."