It seemed like his life recently had consisted of a lot of running - running from his problems, running into open arms, running away from truths he couldn't tolerate. This time, he didn't know what hurt worse; the ringing words of defeat, or the conflicted emotions tearing through the grey eyes of his best friend.

I'm sorry, Tweek, but Craig wins zis round.

The blonde stared into the unknown, hazel eyes tracing the rymthmatic pattern of his ceiling fan blindly, but he mentally was far from his messy room. No, he was nestled into the warm crook of a sensible sweater under the twinkling galaxies above, the steady heartbeat of the Frenchman sounding musically on his cheek. No, he was shivering wet and cold sinking into the silt on the edge of Stark's pond, eyes of mercury staring into his soul. No, he was tangled under sheets that smelled of coffee, panting in time to the soft purrs in a language he never cared to learn.

"Stop it, Tweek, Jesus fucking Christ," he growled to himself as the tears streamed uncontrolled down his ruddy cheeks. "We can't go there again."

And it hurt, like being burned by liquid nitrogen, stinging and aching with no source of relief available. It was as if his insides had been pulled out of his pores and left in a bloody heap on the floor, tender and aching. Sure, they had had lapses in their friendship over the last few weeks between confusion felt and lack of understanding between themselves, but Tweek had never had to deal with the uncertainty of having Christophe turn away. Give up, defeated.

It was insane, Tweek thought as he laughed unnervingly. This deep-set ache was something he had never felt with Craig, despite all of the girls wrapped around his musically-inclined fingers. Even pushed to the side and used behind closed doors, he had never felt this raw sense of rejection and hurt before. But Christophe, Christophe was different - he was a friend when no one else had dared tread in the coffee-addicts path, a strong shoulder when he had tortured himself over Craig. And recently, he was much more than just a friend.

Recently, the blonde had to admit the unsettling depth of emotions he felt for the rebellious outcast of South Park high. That were ripped away before they had ever had time to blossom and flourish, and why?

Because he had never gotten over Craig, he thought sullenly as he pulled his hair, fresh tears popping into his eyes from the sting. And how could he? Craig was a constant emotional irritant, like a scratchy tag of a shirt digging in uncomfortably. Craig always was there, just out of reach, swopping down like a hawk on its prey when the moment was right for him - Craig was his personal demon that dug gingerly into his skin and ripped any sensible thought from his head. The raven-haired boy was someone he hated himself for years over, that he loved without a doubt, that he was ensnarled in for years. Craig and the emotions that were tangled up within him were not so easily shaken.

Tweek wished they were - he wished that he could easily forget the Hell that was his turbulent relationship with Craig Tucker, if only to keep Christophe in his life. And that was probably more telling than anything, he thought to himself as he flopped back into his pillows and covered his seeping eyes with his arm. Although he had loved Craig for years and endured so much, he would gladly wipe those things away if only to make his best friend happy.

But that, unfortunately, could not be done, because as much as he hated Craig most days, part of him held on hope that everything would play out in some twisted fantasy. And it was that part of himself that allowed Tweek to swallow back the idea of Christophe and text Craig during class on Wednesday.

Can I talk to you after school? he sent during a lecture about Odysseus.

Yah I guess meet me at the tailgate.

Tweek had never been more nervous as the bell sounded overhead and he gathered his books into his beat-up checkered Dickies backpack. Pulling his scarf tight around his neck, zipping his puke-green hoodie up to his chest, he took a deep breath and took off down the hall, toeing the edge of the lockers, staying far from the midst of the other students. He caught the questioning hazel eyes of a red-lipped beauty, and ducked his head low as he exited the building. A quick scan of the parking lot found Christophe's truck still sitting in its usual space, and three rows back the hand-me-down beater of a truck with a lanky figure leaning against the tail gate, black bangs pushed low over his eyes from the familiar blue lapringer.

His heart crawled unceremoniously into his throat as he began to sweat despite the bitter autumn chill whipping down from the mountains. But as those meadow eyes met his, he was trapped by that tight-lipped cocky smile.

"What do I owe this incredible pleasure, Tweekers?" the nasally voice rang out with a hint of sarcasm laced in those simple words.

"I just, I, I-I'm sorry," he choked out, fingers lacing in his hair nervously. "For, well...you know."

Craig took his time shaking a cigarette out of a pack and lighting it against the wind, the flame sparking mysteriously in those cold green eyes. "Oh, you mean for attempting to ruin my life and reputation by spreading that picture everywhere with the help of the most disgusting pig to ever walk this side of South Park? Well, don't be."

"What...what do you mean?" Tweek asked, eyes widening slightly at the blase tone in his friend's voice.

Craig inhaled from the end of his cigarette deeply, tendrils of smoke caressing between his lips and up his freckled cheek. "Yeah, don't be. I mean, I do very much want to stomp your teeth into the ground for that. Putting my tongue down Kenny's throat doesn't even excuse going to Cartman like you did. But, as it turns out, apparently gay kids get a lot of attention - we've had a lot of interest in our music since that little travesty of yours."

Brows knit together, Tweek shook his head. "You mean, you're going to keep pretending with him?"

Craig shrugged. "Why not?" That cruel smile the boy was so famous for as he reach a hand out and ran his fingers roughly through the tangles of the blonde's hair. "Oh, did you think I would make us public now that you outed me for being a fag? Well, that's a shame, isn't it? Is that why I haven't seen you with that little French faggot?"

Tweek ground his teeth as he smacked Craig's hand away from him. "So you'd rather pretend with Kenny, then be the real thing with the person that you supposedly need like a dying man's last breath?"

"You know, I find it incredible how jealous you're playing when you're dating the Weasel too," Craig said as he stamped his cigarette into the pavement, eyes flashing. "Or did you break up afterall?"

Eyes downcast, Tweek knew he'd given himself away. "Chris gave up. Said you win."

"No."

"What d you mean, no?" Tweek asked, brows narrowed.

That incredulous shrug. "No. I'm not going to accept a forfeit as a win. That's bullshit, he knows it, I know it, you know it. I want the win to be your heart as mine again," Craig finally said, pushing the blonde up against the side of the truck, pinning him by the hips as he leaned over, breath hot on the blonde's ear. "Winning is knowing you only love me. By the way, I think your little Weasel is watching."

Tweek shoved the raven-haired boy away, face flushed as his hazel eyes scanned the parking lot. He found it empty, the black truck seemingly alone in the lot without a trace of Christophe. He turned on the musician with a smoldering look, catching the hint of sadness chase out of those meadow green eyes as Craig smiled to himself.

"And the fact you care so much if Christophe were to catch us close makes it clear to me, I'm not the winner just yet." Throwing his bag into the open window, Craig leaned down and caught the blonde's lips with his own, lingering for a moment before pulling back and climbing into the truck. "You tell your friend that his forfeit is bullshit and I'm not taking it to heart. And also Tweek, I know I can be a jerk, but you can be too. Despite all of that, don't forget, I do love you."

...

The first day Christophe's absence was noted in their precalculus class, Bebe knew exactly what had transpired. The first day a damp-eyed blonde hid in the back of the cafeteria by himself, Bebe wanted justice for her frantic friend. The first day a raven-haired musician noticed the gaping schism between the frenchman and the coffee-addicted blonde, Bebe narrowed her eyes and projected vile thoughts at Craig. The first day was always the hardest, she found herself repeating mindlessly, but deep down she knew the truth; there was no way she could pick up the fragile pieces between the two.

But that sure as Hell didn't mean she wouldn't try.

That Friday evening, she found herself on her floor with her delicate toes splayed apart with foam, hazel eyes watchful behind large framed glasses as Tweek - his tongue between his teeth, concentrating - applied a thin layer of midnight lacquer to her nails. It was a ritual that had begun back in grade school as a technique to train Tweek's fidgety hands to steady themselves due to Mr. Garrison's snarky remarks about the blonde's terrible handwriting, and had continued throughout the years as a way for the two to bond as they got older. It was also an added bonus that Tweek had become quite the nail artist and saved her money at the salon.

"Are you still planning on going to the dance?" she asked meticulously, watching as his shoulder's tensed as he swallowed hard.

"Well, I mean, I guess! It's not like he was going to go with me anyway. Why would I ruin a good time y not going?" he hmphed, eye brows scrunching together as he finished off the last toe of the first coat. "Have you picked out a dress yet?"

"Silver with black lace overlay," she said with a smile. "I figure if we have to follow this stupid Frozen theme the freshmen picked, I may as well out do all of those young'uns and be merciless dark Queen Elsa."

"It doesn't really matter what you wear, you'll be the shining star of the night anyway," Tweek said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "I mean come on, Bebe. How did Clyde ever get a girl like you?"

She smiled. "Perseverance. Intriguing but disgusting habits. An incredible sense of confidence that can rarely be knocked. Charm. But seriously, perseverance. That kid wouldn't take no for an answer."

Tweek grinned at the thought as he picked up a bottle of silver paint and began to paint delicate snow flakes on her toes. "You two are like the perfect couple. Strangely bizarre to behold, but so fitting. I want that one day," he said with a hint of sadness o his voice.

Staring down at the boy, she hid her sad smile behind her blonde waves. "You may not believe me, but I've never seen you quite as carefree and happy as at the side of Christophe. And I've never seen those hard eyes of his soften the way they did around you. I don't know what happened to cause the drift between you, but I truly believe you two need to work it out."

"He gave up on me, Bebe. He walked away. He gave up. I can't fix that. I can't help it. And trust me, I wish I could. It's so fucking hard sitting in the same class as him and trying not to notice that earthy scent he wears. It's so hard to go to Clyde's and not notice him singing in French in his room oblivious to the world around him. It's so fucking hard not to scream and yell and curse and beg and cry every damn day because he doesn't notice me anymore."

At this point, Bebe took the bottles from Tweek and brushed his stray locks from his face as the tears poured relentlessly down his cheeks. "Oh, Tweek, that's just not true. You might not see the way he tracks your every step and is just out of view, or his hesitation when you're around, but I do. I see how tortured he is in class, and I've seen how miserable he is at home. He tries very hard to play the tough guy routine, and he does it pretty well if you didn't know him like I do. He hurts just as much as you do, if not more."

"Then why would he give up on me?" the blonde asked as he sniffled back the wetness.

Petting his hair she smiled sadly. "If there's one thing Christophe is afraid of, honey, it's the unknown. He has always had control of everything in his life, he's meticulous, in order to keep a tight reign on his surroundings. Your situation is his unknown. He had no control over the consequence, over whom holds your heart dear. And I believe more than anything that before Christophe could let himself be disappointed, that he had to take control of the situation, and the only way for him to do that was to give you up."

"I wasn't worth the risk, then," he said bitterly.

"If you weren't worth the risk, he wouldn't have done everything he did to this point," Bebe said, wiping the tears away from her friend's face. "You have a heavy history with Craig, one he is very aware of. You still have a lot of pent up feelings involving Craig. Chris wasn't willing to lose you unless it was on his own accord. He cares far too much."

Those accusing eyes pinned her down. "How would you know? Sure seems like he doesn't give a whole lot of shits."

"Because that boy hasn't slept a wink since Monday, because he's terrified you'll be in his dreams, and he'll have to wake up to the reality he made. Because that boy has loved you for years, and being silent about it never hurt as much as these few days have killed him."

"How long?" Tweek asked, staring her down as his hear t beat uncontrollably in his chest, the sound echoing up to fill his head with bloodrush. "How long?"

"Since he moved in after his mom married Clyde's dad. He's cared an incredibly long time, Tweek. Don't let his own stupidity hinder your happiness, and don't let your own weakness prevent you from fighting. And never forget, he gave you part of himself he never has given to anyone, he let you into a place no one else dared touch."

"So what do I do?"

A cunning look passed over her face as she taped her fingers together conniving. "Dress to impress at the dance tomorrow and knock his socks off, my friend."

...

The only peaceful place where his mind ceased to question itself and sounds became obsolete was tucked inside a caved-in tunnel beyond the edge of his parent's fence that hooked into the hard, rock-ladden soil of a five-foot deep hole he had dug months prior. He sat from his chest upward engulfed in the shallow tunnel, eyes closed as the smell of soil filled his nostrils, feet resting precariously on the wall of the hole. He had come down to dig out the collapsed ceiling of the tunnel, when he had merely given up a few shovelfuls in and had laid down on the dir, finding a simple kind of solace being hugged by the earth.

A solace that wiped the image of a particular blonde from his heavy mind that was sluggish from lack of sleep. A solace that gently tugged him from consciousness, wrapping him up in warm tendrils of sleep and comfort.

A solace that could not be contained when he heard the oafish rustling above and the silent curses of his brother. "Broski, please get out of that makeshift grave, you're starting to freak me out, man."

"I'm fine, go away."

He ignored the dirt that fell down on his legs as, peaking through a slit eye, he watched Clyde take a seat on the edge of the hole, feet dangling over the edge. "Look, I don't know what happened-"

"Don't worry about et, et's nozing."

"We both know that's bullshit, if it was nothing, you wouldn't be moping around in your tunnels not sleeping," Clyde snapped. "We're brother's. You can tell me anything."

Christophe closed his eyes against the hurt he heard in Clyde's voice. "Et's nozing you need to worry about. I'm fine. I will be okay. Okay?"

"I can't help but worry about you, Rissy. It's what family does. You can say you're okay, but I know better. You're not okay. And you've always had my back through everything. I always turn to you when things go south, and I want to be that person you feel like you can go to. Now get out of that hole."

He sighed, hating that now he was hurting his brother as he shook his head. He felt more dirt fall down, felt the air move over him and heard the thud of feet landing in his hole. Before he had time to react, he felt arms clamp around his knees and yank, dragging him wide-eyed out of the tunnel on his back. He looked up into the face of his brother, still clinging to his knees, sweat dripping from his forehead.

Christophe felt a pang of warmth at the dedication Clyde had as he extended a hand and let his brother pull him up to a sit in the hole. "I broke up wiz Tweek. I didn't expect et to be zis hard."

The look on Clyde's face was pure dumbfoundedness. "Why would you break up with Tweek? I mean, you were genuinely happy for the first time in as long as I can remember."

"Inreconceliable difference," Christophe said bluntly as he ran his hands through his hair, shaking dirt out from his brunette locks.

Clyde shook his head. "There should be no inreconceliable differences when you're genuinely happy, man. I've been there, though. Back in seventh grade, I broke up with Bebe at a party where we were playing spin the bottle at Token's house, and she was supposed to kiss Kyle, and damn if that girl didn't get really into it. I was insecure about myself as it was, being the overweight kid with this gorgeous girlfriend, that her seemingly enjoying kissing some other guy really did it for me. We broke up, and it damn near killed me."

"I remember," Christophe said with a nod, fighting the smile quirked his lips upwards. "You hung out wiz ze Goth kids, wrote sheety poetry, and watched a ton of girlie romance movies until Bebe slapped you out of et by showing up dressed as a Goth kid and forcing her lovely presence on you."

"Mmhmm, because we're happier being stupid together than by our lonesome. And, I think that same can be applied to you and Tweek. You've been miserable, broski. A real pain in the ass. Tweek brings out the best in you, man."

He shrugged as he stared down at the ground. "I zink zis ez a little more complicated zen you zink, Clyde."

"It's only as complicated as you make it, Rissy. Now get out of this hole."

"No."

He shrugged as he pulled himself up from the hole, grunting the entire way. Looking down at his brother he smiled wickedly, clamped his hand to his mouth and called, "Babe! He won't cooperate!"

"Christophe Henri DeLorne!" he heard echo through the field above, stilling his heart for a moment as a curly blonde head popped over the edge of the hole. "You will get your ass out of this hole and clean up to go to the dance or so help me God."

"You're razer cute when you're angry," the Mole taunted as Bebe's face turned an unpleasant shade of scarlet. "Don't forget, mon cherie, I'm a lot larger zen you are. I zink I win zis fight."

"I'm not missing my hair appointment for you. You have to the count of three. One."

Christophe raised a brow in amusement as he settled back into the dirt, a cocky smile plastered on his face as he stared up at the blonde haired beauty. "Two." He crossed his arms over his chest, and even had the urge to stick his tongue out in response to the challenge Bebe offered."

"Don't think I didn't warn you," she said with her hands on her hips. "Three. Rex...fetch boy," she said sweetly as she dropped a dog-sized chewy tire into the hole a moment before the slobbery dog bounded after it.

"Sheet! Fuck!" Christophe hollered as panic swelled in his throat a moment before the dog noticed his favorite friend was trapped in the hole with him, and tail wagging, jumped at the Mole. He jumped to his feet and scrambled up the side of the hole, boots slipping on the loose gravel from Clyde's descent as he pulled himself desperately out of the hole. Christophe slipped on the slick grass as he fell to the ground in safety, ignoring the roars of laughter from his brother, and the cunning face framed in a halo of blonde curls.

"You...are...the...devil," he panted out, as his tight muscles relaxed as the impending danger was deemed gone.

"I told you, I'm not missing my hair appointment for you, Christophe. You better hustle inside before Rex finds his way out and comes after you."

No other words needed spoken as Christophe popped upwards on his feet and took off toward the house, feeling as if the decrepit dog was right on his heels.

...

This year's homecoming was directed exclusively by the Freshmen student board members, most notably Tracie Tucker, and followed a cliché Frozen theme. The pathways leading up to the gym were decorated with streams of iridescent white lights and glittery snow flakes hung between the aluminum awnings. Christophe felt out of place and itchy in the all-black attire the evil snow queen had forced him into, but he had argued to keep his steel-toed boots and fingerless gloves. Even his hair was spiked with fenesse only gel and artful fingers could achieve.

"Oh my god, Christophe, is that you?" he heard from behind him and turned to see Red, hair a matte of intricate curls and pearls in a frothy little black number and sky high heels. Her scarlet pout dropped open and her cheeks flushed as she gave him an uncomfortable once-over. "My god, you are a gorgeous creature."

"He really does clean up well, doesn't he?" Bebe said with a red-lipped smirk as she folded her arms delicately. "You'd never know I pulled him directly out of a hole only hours prior."

He narrowed his eyes as she blew him a kiss and waltz off in her stilettos, lacey train following after her, intricate golden braid bouncing against her shoulders. He thought he could sneak out and back to his truck until his brother clamped a hand on his shoulder, a wicked smile splayed across his face.

"You're not thinking about making an artful escape are you, my broski? Bebe will kill us both if you disappear into the night like the mercenary you are. Nuh-uh," he said with a shake of his head as he slipped a small bottle into Christophe's hand. Clyde gave a wink. "Liquid courage for when you feel particularly overwhelmed. And I may have a ton more, but shhh, that knowledge is privy."

Christophe looked down at the small double-shot bottle of Jack with a brow raised as he let himself be pulled into the gymnasium. The back wall was draped in white tulle and white lights that seemed to glow erratically. Glittery icicles and snow flakes hung from every square inch above, and lined the set of bleachers that remained pulled out and covered in more tulle ad lights. Fog danced across the tarped floor, adding a mysterious glow to the room full of teenagers dress in their best evening wear. Pop music blasted from the speakers over head, illiciting a line of girls to hoot and hollar as they danced together. It was a sight that already began a pulsating headache at his temples.

"What ze 'ell," Christophe mumbled as he threw back the tiny bottle of booze and savored the burn that settled in his belly. "Et can't get any worse."

"Oh, hey, Weasel, you piece of garbage!" came the condescending voice of the boy he hated beyond belief. "Didn't expect o see you somewhere social."

"Eat shit, Fucker," Christophe growled as his eyes flashed dangerously, hands curling into fists in his pockets.

"Speaking of shit," Craig said, ignoring the dangerous look that settled on him. "It's a pretty shitty thing, to forfeit like you did. Afraid of losing the one precious thing that life has offered you? I would be. Tweek will be mine, you know."

"Go fuck yourself, Craig."

"You obviously don't care too much, or you'd fight for him."

Without a thought, Christophe's hand shot out and grabbed the collar of Craig's dress shirt, pulling him until their noses were nearly touching. "Don't ever tell me I don't care about zat boy again. Ef you gave 'alf ze shit I do, you never would 'ave lost 'im to begin wiz."

"If you gave half a shit about him, you would never have place him in such a confusing predicament by imposing your feelings on him," Craig spat, reaching up to pull at the hand that had his shirt in a vice grip.

"Break it up you two, Jesus Christ," Kyle's voice rang out as he hit the pressure point in Christophe's wrist and pushed Craig back when the Mole involuntarily released him. Standing between them, green eyes narrowed indignantly, Kyle growled. "Keep your personal shit to yourself and have a good fucking time, both of you. Seriously."

Craig glared as he stomped off with two middle fingers raised. Kyle looked over the Mole, concern palpable in his gaze. "You okay, buddy?"

"I'll be fine, Craig is just vairy irritating," Christophe growled as he rubbed the tender spot Kyle had pushed. "You didn't have to pressure point me."

Kyle shrugged. "Yeah, well, I wasn't waiting for you to cream him. Here," the redhead reached into his pocket and handed over a small sampler bottle of Jim Bean. "Take the edge off."

Before Christophe could even voice his concern about his mildly alcoholic friends, he twisted the top off and shot the bottle, enjoying the fire in his throat. After a third that found its way into his hands, he felt tolerable of the social function surrounding him - after a forth, he allowed Red to take his hand and pull him onto the dance floor. As he spun the girl in delicate circles, he caught sight of sad hazel eyes watching his fluid movements, but when the dance was over and he looked out over the crowd, he couldn't find the face he was searching for.

"You sure loosened up, broski," Clyde said as he took a seat on the bleachers behind Christophe and handed him a glass of blue punch. "I'm learning new things about you every day. I didn't know you could dance."

"I can do a lot of zings most people would never assume," he said with a crooked smile as he took a sip of the punch and looked out over the crowd on the dance floor. In the center of her group of friends was Bebe, laughing about some unknown joke, those haze eyes that were twins of Tweek's sparkling in the mysterious glow. "I hope you told 'er she looks beautiful tonight, Clyde."

"Um...of course! I tell her every day because there's not a day she doesn't look absolutely stunning," he said with a nervous laugh that made Christophe turn and stare at his brother.

"Ez zere somezing you aren't telling me?"

"Hahaha, of course not, why would there ever be some secret!" Clyde said as he tugged nervously on the knot of his tie, avoiding Christophe's gaze. Grey eyes settled penetratingly on him, Clyde threw his hands up in defeat and crumbled. "Okay, okay, okay! Stop looking at me like that! But don't tell anyone, okay?" Looking around nervously, Clyde dipped a hand in his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box that open to a stunning white-gold ring with a sparkling sapphire cut to shimmer in the light.

Catching Christophe's quizzical, dumbfounded look, he shook his head rapidly. "No, no, no! It's not what you think! I'm not proposing or anything! But I mean, college is coming up, and Bebe has great things going for her, and me...well, I've got hopes of community college. And I'm super afraid she'll move on. Like, terrified. And-"

"Clyde, if you couldn't tell by ze way she lights up around you zat she ez yours, you are silly. Et ez a lovely ring zough. I am sure she will love ze sentiment."

Before Clyde could reply, Tracie's voice spilled over the intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen, half the night has come and gone already! It is time to announce your snow Queen and King!" Cheers echoed as the dance floor was cleared for the winners. Looking over the crowd, Christophe caught sight of a well-manicured blonde posed next to the impeccable Bebe, and his heart stopped.

"This year's snow Queen is none other than evil Elsa herself, Bebe Stevens!" The girls all cheered, clapping uproarishly, and Christophe had to clamp his hands over his ears at the hoots from Clyde behind him. Bebe swept herself onto the clear floor with a flourish of twirls and bowed low enough for the young Tucker girl to place the glittering tiara on her elaborate braid of curls. She blew kisses with those classic red lips, smile bright and warm.

"And this year's snow King is...well, this is unexpected. Your king is none other than Christophe DeLorne!"

"What."

"Oh my god, Rissy! Oh my god I'm so excited! Go, go!" Clyde said, pushing on his brother's back as he stood up, glancing around as all eyes settled on him. "Don't cop a feel either, I know where you sleep!"

The crowd parted like a sea as he dredged up to the front where the strawberry-blonde girl was holding a crown with a peach-lipped smile, and Bebe stood with a knowing smile on his face. He tipped his head, uncomfortable at all the eyes that watched him as Tracie placed the crown into his gelled spikes.

"You rigged zis," he mumbled low so no one other than the blonde could hear as she took his hand in her own and the music crashed over them all.

The whole place, was dressed to the nines/ and we were dancing, dancing, like we were made of starlight.

"You're not accusing me of cheating, Mister DeLorne, are you?" Bebe asked, the corners of her mouth turning upwards as he spun her outward and pulled her back into his side, hand settling on her waist.

"You have somezing planned, Miss Steven's. I can see it in the sparkle of your eyes." He lifted her with no trouble, spinning as he slid in a delicate circle around him, a laugh echoing off her ruby lips.

"My, Christophe, this is a side I never expected from you," Bebe said as he dipped her low and kissed her cheek.

"Muzza made sure if I was going to play wiz weapons and chase ze dream my fazzer 'ad zat I should know 'ow to woo a lady," he echoed as he pulled her to his chest and danced close.

Don't you see the starlight, starlight? Don't you dream impossible things?

She slipped out of his grasp, twirling delicately out of reach as she walked to the crowd and pulled a blonde out of Clyde's grasp, squeaks of protest echoing as she lead him to the frozen Christophe. She placed Tweek's sweating palm inside of Christophe's and kissed Tweek's pink cheeks. Leaning upward with a smile she placed a kiss on Christophe's cheek without a word before taking Clyde's hand and spinning into a new song with him.

For the first time all evening, Christophe got a good look at his friend, in his black and grey pin-striped suit, messy blonde locks styled to perfection, frothing just enough around those delicate cheeks to bring out the embarrassed pink hue and offset the gorgeous green that blazed in his hazel eyes, eyes that took Christophe's breathe away when they looked up and met his. His heart hammered in his chest as fire burned at the feeling of Tweek's fingers entwined in his. He felt like he was being pulled under and drowning, until he noticed the glassy look in hose mysterious hazel orbs and felt his heart break as tears spilled over.

"I can't do this," Tweek squeaked out as he pulled his hand away and turned, disappearing into the crowd.

He caused this hurt, and damnit, he was going to fix it, Christophe thought as he slithered through the crowd after his friend. Maybe it was the alcohol, but today he wasn't going to let Tweek run away with tears in his eyes - today, he wasn't going to tuck tail and live in solitude.

Christophe stepped out of the double doors into the courtyard where couples held hands and necked in the frigid air. A shiver running through him, he followed the sidewalk towards the parking lot, following the curve around the loop to where his truck was parked in its usual fashion. There he found Tweek sitting on the tail gate, wet face turned upwards to the sky, eyes closed, fists grasping at his hair tightly.

"Starlight, star bright, I feed from you a wish tonight. A wish I may, a wish I might, please don't strike down in a fit of murderous rapture at my wish tonight. I just...I wish this wasn't so hard."

"Et's only as 'ard as you make et," Christophe answered, watching the boy startle and throw his arms up as if to deflect an attack. Walking over, Christophe pushed Tweek's arms down with a sad smile. "I'm sorry for making et 'arder zen et already was."

Tweek pulled his arms away, clasping them tightly to his chest as he stared anywhere but in Christophe's direction. "I don't know what you want from me."

"Forgiveness would be first, but I doubt I'm getting zat," Christophe said with a sigh as he leaned his hip against the truck, looking up at the constellations glittering above.

"You know, I'm sorry for caring so damn much that you haunt me like this," Tweek said angrily.

Christophe shrugged. "And me? I'm not sorry zat I love you. I wanted to be, I wanted et all to disappear as ef et never 'appened. So you could be 'appy like you were. But zen, I realized ef you were truly 'appy, we never would 'ave 'appened. So I am not sorry for letting you in, and letting you know my true self. I'm not sorry for loving you, Spazz."

"Goddamnit, Chris, I can't keep doing this shit with you," Tweek said, pulling at his hair as he hopped off the tailgate and paced in a tight circle. "I can't keep going through this rollercoaster ride with you. these ups and downs. I can't do it. I want you to hurt like I do."

"So tell me to leave and I will. Tell me to give up, and I will. Tell me what you want from me," the Mole said, a underlying tone of fear laced in his words.

There were no words as Tweek spun on his heel, hesitation written across his face as he grabbed Christophe by the collar and kissed him hard, tasting the bitter undertone of alcohol on his lips. He took more than he gave as his hands wrapped in the brunette locks of his partner , pulling him closer as their breaths mingled, puffing in tiny clouds between the two in the cold air. When Tweek pulled away, his face a flattering shade of magenta, he felt his heart leap at the swirling mercury eyes staring down at him, enraptured.

"Well, ef I wasn't drunk before, I sure am now," the Mole joked with a crooked smile as he licked his lips, the taste of coffee lingering there. "Does zis mean I'm safe?"

"For now," Tweek warned, attempting to be stern, but his own elated smile made the sentiment nil. "What now?"

"Well, I 'ave to wait for Clyde to get out to take 'im and Bebe 'ome, so I suppose we wait." Tapping the stainless steel toolbox he smiled. "I still 'ave all ze blankets from our date, and possibly a bunch of mini liquor bottles courtesy Clyde, and there sure are a lot more constellations to learn."

Drifting over the thin mountain air from the gymnasium, music rang out as the party continued on. With a wicked smile Tweek grabbed Christophe's hands and pulled him close. "But first, we dance!"

...

When Bebe, shoes in one hand, the other wrapped around the neck of Clyde as he carried her out of the gymnasium finally found the truck, a smile erupted over face, seeing the blonde nestled asleep to the chest of Christophe. He cracked a grey eye open at their approach, and wordlessly handed Clyde the keys with his own sleepy smile and mouthed "Zank you" to them both.

A/N:
All seems to be in the motion of total happiness...Chris and Tweek got their dance and settled the beginning of their problems, but then, there's Craig. Craig, whom still voices his love, Craig, whom isn't over fighting yet. And what about Kenny's peculiar situation in everything? What do we have in store on the next episode of Clear Skies? All of this and more :)