Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are.
I had to find you, tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart

—The Scientist, Coldplay

I can't help but post SomeoneCMary's review on here, because it's literally hilarious: "It was about time somebody got a boner." I honestly feel like Craig just reviewed my fanfiction.

Tweek's point of view:

Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up. Craig was snoring next to me—he's never snored before—and wasn't even beneath the covers. It looked as though he'd been up all night and finally just decided to pass out carelessly. I wondered if he had.

But then I realized something the exact second that I shifted to get out of bed and whatever he'd been doing was no longer a matter of interest because I was still naked. Suddenly it was a good thing he wasn't beneath the covers. Near scrambling, I tried not to create as many ripples as possible in the mattress as I made a dash for the floor and searched for my clothes I'd left by the door. As soon as I felt my jeans, they were on my legs—commando, but I was covered.

A sigh escaped me, full of the things that could've been: waking up in the morning naked, someone waking us up to find me naked, no covers and sleeping next to Craig naked. Each of them was a terrifying possibility. Humiliation to that degree wouldn't have been something I could've lived down.

Silently, I opened the door and snuck through the crack. I'd promptly fallen asleep after—Sweet Jesus—how had that happened?

Craig's hands—and his mouth—and those hips—and I'd touched them and he'd touched me and—that was my first orgasm. That was my first fucking orgasm and it had been Craig's fault.

My head felt unexpectedly light and I put a hand against the wall for balance. It was impossible to think about that right now, impossible to comprehend.

So I turned my thoughts over and focused on why I'd woken up. I just hadn't had the chance to take my medication or brush my teeth. My entire existence would be messed up for the day if I didn't get those things done. Already I was getting fidgety with the feeling that nothing was right. Things just felt wrong, even as I sifted through my backpack for my medication that would fix everything.

A sudden click like the tapping of glass on the counter sounded from behind me. Fear penetrated my response and I spun around faster than I could think to run only to see that none of that was necessary. It was just Kenny pouring a shot of what might've been vodka. He was hunkered over the small glass so I figured this wasn't his first.

Once it was filled, he set the bottle down and raised the shot in my direction in cheers before downing it. "Why are you drinking by yourself?" I asked. "Shouldn't you be in s-someone's bed?"

"Shouldn't you go back to Craig's?" He sniggered, placing the shot glass in the sink. As I returned to my bag to grab what I needed, he began to saunter over. "We heard"—holy fucking shit no no no— "that you passed the fuck out." Mother of God, I'd nearly died just then. Fear killed people sometimes. It was one of the things I was most afraid of. "Care to explain?"

"Explain what?" My fake nonchalance sounded horrendous. Kenny was clearly very aware that I hadn't fallen asleep for no reason. He probably already knew that—Oh God, my orgasm knocked me out cold. Was that normal? Maybe it was some chemical reaction in my body. Maybe it had a name like Unconscious-inducing Orgasming. What if it was a rare form of some STD? Where the hell had I gotten an STD from?

Could it be possible that I wasn't born a virgin? And now my body could create STD's on its own? Craig wouldn't want me if I was a walking STD.

I attempted to put an immediate stop to my paranoid theories by swallowing my medication dry.

"How were you so exhausted that you passed out?" Kenny asked. He was standing at the mouth of the kitchen and wasn't about to let me past so I could brush my teeth. A dim light above the sink allowed me to see the droop of his eyelids, the lazy grin on his lips. I dipped beneath his arm and came up on the other side where I could safely wash my mouth out. "Come on now, Tweekers. Don't start keeping secrets," he breathed into my ear.

He caged me with his arms, chest brushing lightly against my back to reenforce the presence of his position. I shook my head to get him away. The last person who'd been there had been Craig and I wasn't ready to replace those words he'd said to me because I was beautiful to him and maybe that meant that I was getting somewhere.

Kenny waited patiently, resting his forehead against my shoulder as I brushed my teeth for a minimum of two minutes and finished off with chipmunk cheeks full of mouthwash. Once I was done, I patted my lips with a paper towel and set my brush with it on the counter to dry. It was then that I turned around and looked up at the blonde whose hair was in a disarray. There was a musky scent on him that reached beyond the mint of my breath. Bruises were on his neck and showing beneath the unbuttoned portion of his shirt. His lips were red and wet and swollen. He'd just gotten back from having sex.

When he leaned forward, I remained stationed in my spot. Behavior like this—small stolen kisses and playful nips—was common when it came to him. He was nuzzling my jawline with his mouth, scooting his arms closer to frame me tighter, when I started smiling and waited. The time it took was short, just a simple rubbing of his lips down the expanse of my neck, before he pulled away and gazed down at me with a look that said he'd known and he was proud.

"Dude," Kenny mumbled. "I can't give you any hickeys; somebody beat me to it." My smile stretched so wide that it hurt but I couldn't stop. "What happened between you and him?" He tipped his head slightly to the side, assessing me for whatever signs intuitive people like him looked for. There were the hickeys on my neck and nothing covering my bottom but hastily thrown on jeans. I didn't think my lips were still raw or my face still flushed by anything but the memory and this conversation. So I had no idea how he guessed it so easily. "You should let me give you an orgasm sometime, alright? I can guarantee it'll be satisfactory. Craig and I can make a competition out of it."

"No, I don't t-think that's going to happen. Sorry," I laughed.

"You know, I thought he was pretty energized when we came back in." It took my saliva a fairly long time to get past my throat. Kenny smiled wryly and nodded his head like that's right. "Clyde was wondering what was up when you two left. Why you both are always so secluded when you're together. He thinks you're stealing his best friend away. I reassured him that you weren't but I'm not so sure now."

That was funny. I rolled my eyes and said, "Craig loves Clyde."

"And you love Craig. Clyde's just going to have to deal, I guess."

A dizzying sensation clamped down around my skull. The moment froze for an instant, this terrorizing split second that added onto the day and made it just that much longer and frightening. "Why did you say that?" I asked him.

The blonde's features narrowed sharply, lips turned up all abused and dangerous. "Because it's true even though you're scared to realize it." Had I wanted to say anything, he wouldn't have given me the chance, but it wasn't like I had control over my mouth anyways. I didn't have much control over anything at that point. It was remarkable that I was still existing at all. "Tweek," his voice softened at the edges. "How long has this been going on?"

"Eight years." I sounded like the the scrape of dead leaves on pavement.

"And who was your first crush?" He prompted.

I swear I had gravel for teeth. "Craig."

"Who else have you ever had a crush on? Felt anything remotely similar to how you do for Craig?"

My head shook numbly, bobbing in a world full of water. "I—Kenny, I don't—"

Raising a hand, he ruffled my hair and kissed my forehead. "Not many, right? Not even one. Just think about it and I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

He dropped his prison of limbs and I felt robotic—no heart, no head, just rusted joints—as I put my stuff away and headed back to Craig's room. Halfway there and suspicious of the crack in Clyde's bedroom door, Kenny reminded me that we'd be leaving tomorrow. By the time I managed to situate Craig beneath the covers and get back into bed, I wasn't even a robot. I wasn't anything at all.