This Baby Don't Cry
“Get in loser, we’re going shopping.”
Bebe doesn’t know how to laugh. Even with the wink and Clyde’s smile, she doesn’t have it in her. Though her heart warms up a bit for his correct quote that she spent years hammering in his head.
She is pretty sure Clyde is aware that at any other time she would have laughed. At the moment, she only gets in the backseat of his car with her friend.
“Thanks for picking us up, guys,” Nichole says with a smile unlike Bebe, who silently puts on her belt to lounge in the back. “Still can’t believe what Kenny pulled off but I’m not complaining.”
“At least we know that there is a party,” Clyde grins and twists on the driver seat to look at them. “They really thought they could hide it from us?"
“They are already shitfaced,” Craig adds with his flat tone that contrasts with his friend’s laugh. He doesn’t turn but he looks at the car mirror to see them sitting behind. "Maybe with an ambulance by now."
His eyes pause on Bebe to which she answers by raising an eyebrow to challenge him to even say a thing about her. He returns to his phone and she can recognize on his screen their class group chat, though it’s more their old class from primary school rather than their current class, where Kenny accidentally sent: ‘ky, my hoe, can i use the towel to clean my ass bc there is no toilet paper’. Which is how the rest of them learnt about the impromptu party going on at Kyle’s. Most people in the groupchat declared that they aren’t going to miss out on the chance to get drunk. Bebe rubs her eyes, feeling exposed without anything to hide their redness.
“I’m pretty sure they are all already throwing up,” Clyde agrees.
She checks her last messages, relieved to see that Wendy didn’t write anything about coming to Kyle’s party. Her relief partly comes from the rest of the girls not coming either. Some already have plans tonight, like a date for Red, but it's easy to guess that one or two might be with Wendy. She isn’t jealous, she has Nichole with her and Bebe isn’t up for a lot of company anyhow. Getting drunk is jsut better than nothing so she made the effort to leave her home after Clyde told her he was going. With a sigh, she slips her phone in her jacket’s pocket before meeting his eyes—worried, pitying and soft. She offers a small smile for him to start the car before looking through the window.
“Am I the only one surprised that Kyle didn’t say we shouldn’t come?” Nichole brings up. “I mean, obviously we would have come either way but he seems pretty smashed already. He even used emojis."
“Maybe he doesn't know?”
“He is going to be pissed.”
Frankly, Bebe is not in the mood to see other people happy. She would have been very much fine by staying in her room with Nichole to cry and mock TV shows. At first, she wanted to stay alone but Nichole’s offer convinced her. Free boze, drunk people, Kyle’s ass– that’s a pretty good cocktail for a night.
She glances on her right to catch Nichole leaning over the seat to talk with Craig—if only getting an answer from Clyde and is a talk. Her friend must feel her eyes because she looks up to meet her gaze. Bebe feels bad since she is not good company at the moment and Nichole has always been a caring person with a kind heart. It only makes her feel worse.
She forces a smile to not worry her but lacks strength to do a good one.
“I’m sure we will be able to sneak a bottle and get a bed just for ourselves,” she plans with a small grin.
“Sounds awesome,” Bebe admits, brushing a hand through her hair.
She notices the look Craig gives to her through the mirror; frowning back, she earns no comment about either her hoarse voice or puffy eyes. She wipes her nose, deciding she would - and could - kick his ass if he even says something.
To her relief, they quickly reach Kyle’s house and park behind Kenny’s car. Bebe is wondering if something more isn’t going on, especially since Kyle is rarely keen to have a party at his place even if his parents aren’t here. His mother is a bit terrifying and shredded him after his sixteen’s birthday party almost two years ago. There has to be something going on since Tweek hasn’t texted a single thing - more than often he is on his phone, not always answering right away but once he is out from the coffee shop then he is one text away; except when he completely forgets it but that’s rare. Kenny also stopped to text in the group chat once Butters showed up sweetly asking what was going on.
Bebe hesitated to directly text Butters, even offering a ride, but she worries about his parents. They talked in private and he insists that he is great but then it’s Butters, who is always great.
She is sick of Kenny's stubbornness and Butters'— lack of something but she isn’t in the mood to put a couple together.
Because if anyone - anybody - dares to whine about their love problems when it’s her time to cry all she wants to and be bitchy, she is going to kill. First on the list Craig. She really doesn’t like to not know what's going on in his head.
“First good news, I think nobody is at the Marsh’s,” Clyde comments after he properly turns off his car. “So no drunk Randy trying to steal our alcohols and all.”
“We should just kick him. Why don’t we do that?” Bebe frowns and leans toward Nichole, ready to get out. “I will do it if I see him tonight.”
“Like you kissed half of the school?”
She snaps her neck to glare at Craig who lazily returns the attention.
“Bro,” Clyde gasps. A punch on the shoulder follows when he is about to reiterate. “Don’t be an ass!”
Bebe sighs. “It’s alright, and it’s not like I expected much from you. Asshole,” she hisses and Craig raises his eyebrow in simple mockery.
“Ugly bitch.”
“Stupid virgin.”
“Let's just go out," Nichole cuts, grabbing her hand to do so.
“Asshole,” she mutters.
She slowly follows Nichole out of the car - both quickly walk ahead of the boys. It’s easy to catch on how Clyde is obviously telling his ‘one of my best bro, the best really’ that he has to be nice. As if that can happen.
“You okay?” She brings up, squeezing her hand to get her attention. “We can go back to your place if you want, I don’t mind.”
“If we go back it’s after we stole their bottles,” Bebe decides and grins when she laughs.
“Alright, I get it, we aren’t going to be able to walk straight in one hour.”
“In thirty minutes if we find a full bottle.”
They laugh for a good breath as they make their way to the house. It has snowed two hours before and she hopes it will restart during the night. When they come in, Bebe expects nothing. Just the vivid odour of alcohol, or vomit, and an obnoxious music that is only blasting to cover up the miserableness of life of tired teenagers who try to fill themselves with terrible alcohol.
But then she sees her friends dancing around the coffee tables, following the music with rhythmic claps. Bebe frowns at Kyle and Tweek - the loudest singers, the clumsiest dancers and the drunkest idiots. The latter is straight up swaying his hips as if he has completely lost his common sense, which she is sure of because Tweek never relaxes to dance like that. She halts to see any other kind of signs of disaster. Cartman is also dancing and just that makes her want to turn back; he notices them, vaguely waving his hand to greet them before frowning at his friends almost stepping on his feet and he roughly pushes Tweek away.
“Are they wasted?” Nichole whispers next to her. “Holy shit they are.”
“It’s not even a party, they are just getting drunk,” she agrees because there is clearly nothing else happening. “That’s the best thing ever. I want to be wasted too.”
“This town is fucked up,” Craig weakly mutters in the back.
“Let’s drink!” Clyde shouts, sauntering to the main event.
“Clyde!” Tweek loudly greets with his arms wildly stretched toward the sky. Bebe widens at how red his face is - maybe she shouldn’t drink, since he looks like he might need to go to the hospital at some point. Great, now she isn't sure if she should get drunk. “Heeeeeey my man!” He hoops very drunk, bumping into Kyle who is still dancing with closed eyes—who actually never dances because he is awful outside from this alcoholic trance. Bebe could pinch his ass if she gets around.
“Jesus Christ, I never saw Tweek that drunk,” Nichole exclaims, staring at him. “Worst was at Red’s party, remember? That’s how you and Lola got him to wear a skirt.”
“Can you imagine what we could ask?”
“You are freaky.”
“Shut up, Craig,” Bebe courtly replies with a whoosh of her hand. If they need someone to do anything tonight, it’s Kyle, but none of them have a skirt on—maybe one of his mom’s.
Furious footsteps erupt from the first floor before Kenny almost falls down from the stairs with an odd great reflex that saves him, by retrieving himself on the rail.
“Oh hey guys,” he grins, properly messy, and points a finger at Bebe. “Did you kiss everybody while I wasn’t there?”
Bebe innocently shrugs but her lips quickly follow his lopsided smirk. “You want yours?”
He barks out a laugh and they smack their lips together before he completely crumbles into her arms, bumping them both into Craig who decides to push them to join Clyde’s side. She shoots him a dirty look, not caring why he is in a pissy mood. Bebe will find something cold to sneak inside his shirt.
“What’s going on?” Nichole asks and chuckles when Kenny grabs her to kiss her cheeks. “Are they okay?” She gestures at the improvised dance floor with her chin.
“And isn’t that your job’s uniform?” Bebe frowns when she sees his clothes. “Did you skip work?”
Kenny snickers. “No.”
“No to what?”
He shrugs. Before she can insist - truly worrying what would push Kyle and Tweek to get drunk out of nowhere, Stan walks downstairs. His eyes fall on them before looking at Kenny who happily, woozily, saunters away to the music, shouting his friends' names before he makes himself the space to dance. They could have pushed the furniture away instead of almost climbing on the table– which Tweek decides to do, screaming the lyrics. Nevertheless, Bebe is tempted to follow their weird show.
"Hi Stan,” Nichole says with a smile.
"Hey— Can you guys stay sober?" Stan asks, holding an almost empty bottle of alcohol.
"Tell me you didn't drink that all alone," Bebe interjects with a frown at the size of the bottle.
"No, that's Kyle and Tweek," he explains with a look. After a shake of his head, he tiredly glances at the two drunks. "I'm trying to hide the alcohol from them now."
"You mean, they left nothing for you?" She taunts with a mocking frown.
Stan returns it with more exasperation. “I mean, I got here like thirty minutes after Kyle texted me. They were chugging that bottle down and only sharing because they stole it from each other when they started coughing.”
A snort slips out, with a faint worrying thought that Nichole exclaims atloud. “They drank, wha-what a liter and a half? Without anything else?”
“I made them eat a bit but they won’t stay in one place. Then Kenny arrived,” Stan sighs with a pissed look at his friends, “which is worse because he is trying to get hella shitted too. Cartman is just having fun watching them like that without helping me."
“That’s why we all came here,” Bebe explains with a cross of her arm.
“Seriously?! I can’t look after everyone!”
“Just to drink a little,” Nichole corrects because his annoyance is raw. “I don’t mind not drinking much to help you if you need another hand.”
“What?” She squeaks. “Nichole! Come on!”
“I’m not saying I will babysit too,” she says with a secretive smile. Bebe might be a needy bitch right now, but her heart just shattered so she has every right to be as annoying as she wants tonight.
“Thanks, that will help me a bit,” Stan agrees with a small relieved smile. “Tweek already tried to go on the roof, he might try again. I tried to hide the knives-”
"Scared to get a hard-on?" Bebe wonders with a dirty smirk. He frowns at her with flushed cheeks. She isn’t completely judging him since she can agree that Kyle is hot when he thinks he is all powerful with a knife and tries to twirl them around.
"I don't want to bring anyone to the hospital because Kyle stabbed them," he argues with tight lips, "if he doesn't hurt himself before."
“Geez, let your boyfriend play.”
“He— you better not try anything on Kyle,” Stan warns and squints at her with one of his weak points flaring up at her amusement.
She would have laughed at the right time. Bebe actually enjoys the whole Style drama—the girls didn’t vote for a name for their couple for nothing, but she really doesn’t want to see people in love at the moment.
“Of course not.” With a roll of her eyes she points at the bottle in his hand. “Let me finish that and I will be the nicest you have ever seen.”
He hands it with a sigh and she walks away, hearing the cautious ‘why would Tweek go on the roof’ from Nichole who stays with him. Bebe braces herself to finish in one swing what smells to be vodka. Her throat charmingly burns and she quickly coughs to not intoxicate herself in one go. She is about to check the brand - to remember it if she ever feels like getting smashed in one go, but Tweek catches her attention by throwing himself on her.
“Everyone came?!” He exclaims over the music.
She blinks. “We are like— ten, Tweek. There is not even half of the class," she corrects. He doesn’t seem to catch on, going for a hug and actually returning the greeting when she kisses his check which never happened before. Kyle and Kenny are sharing some kind of clumsy choreography. "Are you okay, Tweek?" She articulates when he doesn’t let go of his arms even when he restarts dancing and her bottle dangerously jerks around.
Tweek grins. “I’m amazing!”
He is right but also completely wasted. Bebe finds herself dancing with him before she realizes it; she hands him the bottle after she checks that Stan isn’t around, probably in the kitchen. Tweek seems to not be bothered by the strength of it, but then he is also the one person who could drink a pool of hot black coffee. Kyle gets a gulp of the bottle when he notices them and doesn’t even push off Bebe when she kisses his cheeks - now she regrets that Stan isn’t around to see it.
Although there isn’t much space, nor an appropriate decoration to dance, it’s not so bad. They can sway around and sing without a proper pattern, going back to screaming the chorus while they grab an arm or two to dance. It’s easy to fall in the steady swing of the music. An unhealthy cacophony overwhelms her mind but it fantastically echoes through their bodies. Nichole joins and some of their cheerleader's moves come in front, fully in sync as they improvise over new songs. Kenny almost follows their lead but lacks their training to give a perfect show.
Rocking her hips to follow the singing lead of the wasted teens, Bebe lets her mind follow another trail than her memories of today. She just has to follow how they have loosened up to recognize everything isn’t so bad after all. The music becomes even louder and she doesn’t stop. Her arms dance as her hair flutters along. With closed eyes, she follows the word and the abstraction of what's bottled up. They are exhausting themselves with the satisfying music without asking what is going on.
When Nichole and her crash on the couch, not tired but they need to catch their breaths to laugh and enjoy the moment, Bebe spots Kenny as she reaches for a beer who joined Craig and probably Clyde in the kitchen since Craig doesn’t answer to him. He seems to only be watching the small chaos in the living room. Tweek and Kyle are still solely focusing on dancing, clapping with exhausted voices and pushing themselves to sing louder every second like dying animals. If she didn’t know they were dead drunk, she would think they have some sort of choreography between them two.
At some point, Bebe ransacks through the kitchen to find some snacks while Tweek keeps trying to sneak on the roof. She can’t understand why he is trying to do so but Stan seems to manage the situation, trapping him twice before he starts to tug at the windows upstairs. His only distraction, hence letting Tweek lose to put leg out, is when he had to deal with Cartman trying to taunt Kyle to find a knife. Cartman seems to never remember that he was brought to the hospital two years ago because Kyle got a knife. Bebe remembers that ride, a fun one. Those two are insane.
“You okay?”
Bebe shoots Stan a look, arching an eyebrow at his dumb face before shrugging with a roll of her eyes. It’s cold but alright for her to settle against one of the glass doors outside of the kitchen, at least no one will steal her beer like Kenny.
“Amazing. What do you want?”
“Just, wanted to check on you,” Stan mutters with a timid shrug. “You look like— you know.”
She frowns in answer to his hesitant smile. “And seeing you is supposed to make me feel better?”
“Don’t be a bitch.” He shares the bag of snacks in his hand when she eyes it, settling next to her. “You’re really going to get wasted?”
“Yeah.”
Stan sighs but lets her hand fig in the bag. She sips on her drink, watching the small fog dissipate in front of them.
“So— hum, what happened with Wendy?”
There is something that never really changes. Most of the things in South Park don’t change, Bebe recognizes that some parts did but in itself the city didn’t. As far as she knows, no one from their generation actually counts on staying around. It’s fine and full of memories; but everybody knows that you better jump off a ship that isn’t moving or slowly sinking. One thing she keeps on check is her feelings toward Stan.
Bebe doesn’t have anything against him, perse. But she doesn't like him. Or much. It might have something to do because he was Wendy’s first crush or that they were never friends to begin with, but she never had the urge to change it. When they were kids it was alright, Stan was a decent boy and sometimes funny. Except for his ugly hair, it’s all greasy and the only time he actually looked after it was when he dyed it blond for almost two years. Plus she considers him to be a bit aloof. Stan is easy-going and pretty compassionate. The problem isn’t that he falls into the jock box, maybe a bit because he isn’t in any real box except for furries. Anyhow, she never connected with him even as friends and she might have cared about it if Stan and Wendy still dated.
Thank God that they aren’t; they are still very close, to her innocent disbelief and it could explain why Stan dares to ask her that. A small part of her brain tells her that he might know more about it. That he could have more knowledge about Wendy than her. That is irritating.
“What did she tell you?”
“I just saw your fight in the corridor.” Bebe glances at him to check that he seems honest.
One thing she hates—his puppy-like eyes.
“I don’t believe you,” she concludes as she loosely looks up at the clouds “You probably asked her already and I know she could text a thesis in two minutes. She probably did to explain it to you.” Stan sighs. His weight balances on his two feet, enough for her to understand she was right. “Look, don’t take it wrong but I don’t fucking want advices from you.”
“I’m just trying to help,” he retorts with a slight frown. “I mean, Wendy snapped because, uhm, I don’t think it’s because of you but-”
“I did nothing!” Bebe exclaims and pushes herself off the glass door. “It’s not like I tried to make her angry or something— everything was great so I just thought it was the perfect time to ask her out.”
“Wait, what? You asked her out?” He asks in surprise, following her posture. His hand moves to vaguely ask for something before it flies to ruffle his hair. “Like out-”
“Oh my God! Like a lesbian, Stan!” She snaps.
“I got that part! I just don’t understand how the rest happened!”
“I don’t know!” Bebe harshly confesses and lets her arms dangle with disappointment, the beer holding on with two fingers. “She isn’t-isn’t like… Wendy said things that were just... senseless.”
Stan purses his lips. “Like what?” She frowns, hesitating on crossing her arms, instead she drinks the rest of her can. “I really don’t have any idea of what happened. And I’m asking because you are clearly depressed, I just want to help.”
Bebe can’t really deny that she isn’t bummed out. For the most part, she thought it wasn’t unrequited; they flirted - and Bebe even asked their friends to confirm about that. And no matter how much she is naturally a teaser, Wendy does recognize when she was honest or not so she must have been aware when she flirted back. Bebe is no longer the head of the cheerleader, easily getting dates left and right because she refuses them now; her feelings are too serious and she really feels like she is in love with Wendy. People can call her a bitch or a slut all they want—Heidi says it’s because they are jealous. Bebe never quite pushes anyone to be interested in her and even less faked compared to when she was younger and wanted all the focus on her. She tries to learn to not take people’s point of view at heart. It’s not like she can not be popular.
But what could make Wendy not like her? Bebe can’t think about anything else. Of course she tries to make her charms work on Wendy. She wants to go out with her so of course she would make herself prettier - if that’s possible - for her.
Bebe brushes a hand through her hair with a sigh. “Stuff that even as friends I wouldn’t have liked.” If Wendy just wanted to reject her she could have done it another way.
“Oh.” Busying herself with doritos, she leaves him fretting. “I don’t know-”
“It’s better like that,” she interjects. A pang of turmoil erupts, she glances to the ground hoping to find something nice to say but the house breaks into a furious cacophony.
They both turn to have a view inside. Bebe sighs at the music playing. “That’s your emo shit. I swear if they all turn like you I’m going to slap you.”
“It’s not like I did anything!” He argues as he pushes the door open. “And it’s not emo!”
She slips past through the opened door, with a derisive rise of her eyebrows, to reach the group of boys singing. There is a small fight when Stan keeps lowering the volume. Kenny kicks him and almost eats a lamp when he falls at his comeback. They are all shit-faced which only means a good show for Bebe. The party is a fantastic decadence. It has everything to go well, alcohol, food, music and friends. They all know each other and yet, no one seems to have an idea on what to do when the two drunks settle down to speak in vivid hushes. Not that they are secretive or anything, if they were they probably would have left but somehow they are fine just stumbling down on the couch - pushing Cartman half out of it - before chatting like they are not in the middle of a party.
“I mean it sounds like a good idea, right?”
“Mothman?” Kyle asks.
“Mothman,” Tweek confirms.
“Yeah, but you have to catch it.”
“I can.”
Bebe glances with a confused frown to Cartman who chugs down another beer and shrugs as if it’s a normal idea. She has never understood how he could fit so well on the dancefloor when he is disgusting inside. The music was quieted down by Nichole when she realized they were all taking a break. With their flushed cheeks and disheveled hair it looks like Kyle and Tweek danced for a while now. Still, she can’t see how both of them would end up acting like that. Maybe just to lash out; but then they probably wouldn’t look so serious.
“A cryptid hunter— you could have a show,” Kyle slurs, too tipsy or actually considering Tweek’s career idea.
Nichole gives Bebe back the tequila bottle after a good gulp. She raises an eyebrow at her, half-asking if she wants to get drunk with her, but she returns back to her card game with Craig, Stan and Cartman. She pauses over Kenny’s and Clyde’s figures laying down with pillows, chattering about something on the latters’s phone, but returns to Tweek and Kyle as she has no idea what they are saying. Now that she thinks about it, neither Kyle nor Tweek have their phones.
“If it’s not Kenny-”
Tweek gasps. Not a simple one - it’s so dramatic that she wonders if he didn’t copy it from her. Better to express than repress. Then with a furious slap at Kyle’s shoulder Tweek furrows.
“I thought about that too,” he confesses in a hush. Kyle returns the conspiracy look. Bebe drinks to not call on their bullshit. “But he doesn’t look like Mothman.”
“But… We never saw them in the same room," Kyle speculates with the same squinting eyes. They both slowly nod, probably having some secret conversation by telepathy.
Stan is looking at him with a slight exasperated look. Bebe never understood how Tweek had been adopted into their group.
"He better run before I catch his ass,” Tweek mutters with raw determination. He takes a can of beer, kindly sharing it with Kyle but by the look of it he drank half or more of it already.
Bebe doesn’t have to try to notice Stan’s wary look at that. They are painful. Oblivious and stupid. The day they make out Bebe will have to open some expensive wine or something close to it. It better happens this year because she cannot lose her bet - Lola will never get a hold on one of her shoes. Although maybe she should start to interfere since Kyle and Davíd are together, even if they stopped looking like it. Maybe Kyle is better off with Davíd. But Bebe still wants to win that bet.
Her bottle is almost done, which means she will have to go snatch another one or follow with only beers like Tweek and Kyle. They aren’t so bad but they're not strong enough. Stan keeps the pack close to him even when he allowed them to have beers and shooed them thrice.
Bebe wishes Kyle’s annoyance would turn into some sexual tension because they keep sharing a tension-full look, one priceless by Nichole’s accute judgment. Though Bebe would also be satisfied if Davíd shows up to make out with Kyle, as long as she can watch. That would cheer her up.
The lack of it brings her back to her - depressing - point, not enough alcohol, people flirting, actually distracted from things.
“Maybe I should text Wendy,” she mutters.
“No,” Nichole cuts in and nudges her when she frowns at her. “Bad idea, always a bad idea.” She shakes her head and plays a card. “You know what? Give me your phone, I will keep it.”
“I’m just going to ask her to explain why she was a bitch.”
“Yeah, see— not a good idea,” Nichole quietly sighs and offers a small smile that makes Bebe almost feel bad to resist.
“What’s going on with Wendy?” Cartman slowly asks.
“Nothing for you,” she courteously replies.
Bebe is tempted to flip off Craig with his arched eyebrow, after all these years he still hasn’t grown any kind of vocabulary outside his ugly face. Maybe he only came here to pick a fight. Then he should just go settle it with Stan. Clyde said that Tolkien will maybe come by but Jimmy has plans with his family that he can’t ditch. Bebe has counted on his jokes to cheer up. Nevertheless, she prefers Craig compared to Stan; less empathic but they have that insulting buddy-like friendship.
Cartman convinces them all to play smash bros. It smells like a bad idea, so she only watches the first game. Bebe doesn’t like many games that aren’t FPS. There is a fight about Craig cheating, another one for not making a team and the last about the characters - but everything settles when Kyle and Cartman almost strangle each other.
Bebe stands up when they restart a game, taking a breath to not stumble with the alcohol. She is busy browsing through the cupboards of the kitchen, hoping to find something sweet instead of salty snacks. She should have brought what she planned to eat tonight because there is nothing here suited for a depressed palate. Someone runs into the kitchen to throw up his guts. She turns around to recognize the red hair hovering the sink and Clyde rushing away saying he is going to be sick.
It’s expected for Kyle or Tweek to throw up at some point. She is even surprised that it hadn’t happened already, though they might have thrown up before they all showed up.
“Are you okay?” She asks and takes a glass. “Drank too much?”
Kyle vaguely nods, spitting out the rest of his sickness. “I’m fine,” he exhales and clears his throat to spew. Bebe carefully hands him the glass water when he glances at her and the cupboards. “What are you looking for?”
“Just wash your mouth,” she grimaces. Cartman yells victoriously and she peeks in the living room to notice that Stan is missing, while the rest continue to play.
“Are you okay?” Kyle wonders with his bloodshot eyes.
“Yeah, unlike you,” Bebe scoffs and brushes a hand through his curly frange. “You should stop drinking tonight.”
“I’m fine,” he dismisses but clumsily drinks another glass of water.
“You look like shit,” she huffs. “Do you have some cookies or sweet stuff? Not low-fat shit.”
“That’s my mom’s, because it’s organic. Ike took all the good stuff.”
She frowns. “Ike? What— where is he?” She gasps, “don’t tell me we are all down here getting drunk and he is upstairs.”
“What? Of course not!” His tone is flying up. “He went to sleep at a friend’s house.”
He pauses to tilt his head. “Fi— I think he is at Filmore’s. I know that. F something.”
Bebe snorts. There isn’t much to worry about Ike, from what she has seen he was pretty mature and quick on his feet.
“Alright, alright, just wanted to check.”
Her answer seems to trigger a bit of his consciousness because his eyebrows take their usual place, that one attractive frown - like cats. Kyle never really stopped to frown from when they were kids.
“Aren’t you trying to get drunk too?”
Pursing her lips and with an arched eyebrow, she returns the look. “Why are you?”
He shrugs. “I think I know where Stan hid the rum,” Kyle explains with a smirk. “Wanna share it?”
Bebe mimics his mischief and saunters after him. Though their plan fails because Stan had disappeared to find some medicine for Kyle before literally nursing him since he doesn’t want to let him go out of his sight. Apparently, keeping an eye on Kyle becomes something like ‘innocently’ cuddling on the couch because it’s the best way to hold him down.
Bebe still wildly grimaces at their lucky figures and how Stan couldn’t be more smitten than playing with his curly hair like that with Kyle slurring against him. Everyone already told them to get a room. The thought of sending a picture of them to Davíd only crosses her mind once but Nichole is holding her phone hostage and she can’t bring herself to be that mean.
Bebe has no remorse about coming here anymore - they are good distractions and she actually forgot about Wendy for a while. Not that she has many occasions to since she doesn’t have her phone to spy on social media. Wendy must have a great night without a broken heart. She pauses over her empty bottle. Wendy isn’t that heartless. Probably even feels bad when in the end it isn’t that apocalyptic, but still painful to Bebe.
She has no idea what to do now. Not that her life paused because of a broken heart. It’s just that she can’t think how to act now. They are a tight group of friends, and as much as it sounds amusing, Bebe doesn’t want to start a civil war and split all the girls because she and Wendy might not talk much anymore. Not that she was the type of girl to ignore someone because they rejected her. Except that Wendy and her have things planned like sharing an apartment if they are both taken in college and all the typical friend dreams. She chugs the rest of her bottle.
Around midnight - Bebe guesses because the hourglass in the living room has been taken away after Tweek keeps throwing pillows at it for being too loud. Nevertheless around that time Kenny screams from under the living room table for everyone to shut up then shouting bankruptcy even if it makes no sense. Bebe puts that on them watching The Office after Kyle throws up to keep them in place. Stan doesn’t let them have fun and just keeps checking if Kyle really did take his insulin or couldn’t remember it.
Everyone had quieted down at Kenny’s animal-like screech to watch him take back his phone from Tweek. Bebe watches Tweek giggles effortlessly as he crawls away like a child who pranked someone. He must have done something wrong because Kenny strongly kicks him in the ass with one dreadful glare. Kenny is whispering on his phone - too soft for her to listen, even when she lowers the volume of the TV.
Kenny hungs up with a grieving frown before trying to stand up. Tweek’s and Kyle’s head pop out from the kitchen to look at him.
“You fucking woke Butters up you dicks!” He accuses. Tweek slowly cracks into snickers just as Cartman whines atloud for not another fag episode, dramatically throwing his controller at the ground.
Bebe glances at Craig who is watching the scene with Nichole. Clyde seems caught on, even hoisting himself on his friend’s shoulder who keeps trying to push him away.
“Go see him!” Tweek says, crawling out of the kitchen. Kyle almost stumbles on him.
“I can’t fucking go out there with his stupid dad!” Kenny frowns and crosses his arms.
Bebe stands up, stretching as she lazily joins them with the rest of the tequila only because she couldn’t look away now, ready to either tell him to stop being an ass or—no, she will probably still tell him to grow a proper pair of balls.
“I could kick his ass,” Kyle offers with a nonchalant shrug.
“Yeah.”
“We could beat him up,” Kenny considers.
“And get arrested,” Bebe interjects. They look at her. “Just sneak him out so he can party with us.”
“I’m not even sure he wants to. He sounded a bit grumpy on the phone.”
“I could kick his ass.”
“He could,” Tweek agrees with an approving nod at Kyle.
“Why the fuck would that help!?”
“I’m just saying!”
“You probably only woke him up.” She decides to use more reason than the three of us together. “It’s not like he told you to fuck off, right? Just go make out with him, Kenny.”
He blinks at her before his smile grows more devious. “Yeah,” he whispers, “I just need to steal a ladder so he can climb down while Kyle punches Stotch.”
Bebe almost smiles but keeps her cool facade as she follows them toward the door. “Do you want me to come to keep an-”
“Wait— wait, no,” Stan cutS in, bracing himself to dismantle their small group. “Where are you guys trying to go?”
“Nowhere.”
“Kidnapping Butters.”
“I want ice cream,” Tweek confesses.
Bebe restrains her laugh. She doesn’t feel bad for Stan because he is the one who decides to stick with their drunk asses.
“Kidnapping Butters? Why?” He stutters, taking a deep breath to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“He wants to fuck him,” Kyle states.
Bebe can’t recognize any of his muttured words but Stan looks properly distressed. Maybe he needs some help.
“Nobody is going out like that,” he decides and Kyle frowns at him.
“If I’m not going out I will just go through a window,” Kenny announces, already on the move but he is held back by his shoulders.
“You’re going to do something stupid if I let you go!” Stan exclaims.
Bebe drinks her beer. “Yeah, that seems right.”
“That’s why we are going too,” Kyle explains, crossing his arms.
“That’s just more crazy!” Stan returns and pauses when Tweek leaves. It relaxes him to see that he only goes to the kitchen. “Why do you suddenly talk about Butters, anyway?”
“Because they called him! They woke me up and now I should just go see him, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Kyle, shut up,” Stan whines. “Do you realize that his parents are at home? This time they will kill you.”
“He can get him out of his room, so Butters can party with us,” Bebe says. It isn’t welcomed but he seems to actually think about it. “Then you just bring him back.” She shrugs.
“Yes! We need a ladder!”
Stan eyes Kenny. “He could climb down,” he supposes before a sigh follows. “You are not coming?”
Bebe shakes her head. As much as it sounds fun, she doesn’t want to be out in the cold. Maybe in an hour with more alcohol in her blood.
“Wait, I’m coming!” Kyle shouts and almost throws the coat hanger on the floor when he grabs his coat.
“In your ass, I will in no time-”
Stan snaps at Kenny who doesn’t lose his mirth after getting a punch in his shoulder. He is almost thrown out as he keeps giggling. They only leave when Stan asks for Nichole and Craig to not get wasted until he comes back. He has to be quick because the two drunks, Kyle and Kenny, start to race down the street.
Bebe could admit that Stan isn't as stupid as she could have thought. It's when he comes back with a dispirited Kenny that she recognizes a tinytiny part of him to be resourceful. The confused look on Kyle’s face confuses her and she’s worried about what happened at the Stotch. They disappeared for a while when the destination was two houses over.
"Leo moved away," Kenny whispers when everyone is looking at him. "He left without telling me."
A gasp leaves her ajar mouth before closing it when she realises it doesn’t make sense. Stan immediately makes a dismissive sign of his hand behind him; Kyle doesn’t seem ready to let go of him by how he is draped on him.
"What!?" Tweek jumps out of the couch, almost flipping the ice-cream but Craig’s reflex at saves the day - and probably Tweek from crying if it ever gets spilled. Clyde follows with many questions, kicking on a bag of chips on his way over Kenny, and ignores Cartman's insult to hug him with Tweek.
"We are going to call him Kenny," Stan says as the trio all tumble down with the hug. "I'm giving you my phone so you call him, okay?"
His answer is muffled against Tweek's shoulder, almost looking like he is biting it. Nichole asks with her eyes what’s going on but Bebe can only answer with a blank look.
"What's that about?" Cartman calls out before Stan and Kyle reach the kitchen.
Stan makes another relaxed move of his hand as he takes out his phone from his jeans. Bebe jumps on her feet with Nichole to follow him in the kitchen.
"Butters moved?" Nicholel asks.
Kyle glances at her, eyes foggy, before returning to Stan. He looks ready to fall asleep by how slow he is blinking and maybe he would if he lets go of Stan's hand. They both miss the obvious picture she takes of them. Stan finally mouths at them two ‘no’ over his phone.
Bebe frowns. "Why the fuck does he think so then?"
He rolls his eyes and is about to tell more before beaming at his phone.
"Butters?" He whispers. "Sorry, but I need to ask you something. You weren’t sleeping?"
Then it’s awkward because Stan's 'Super Best gay Friend' puts his head on his shoulder to look up to him. Stan seems to panic a bit about the affection but he doesn’t move outside from glancing nervously between Kyle, Bebe and Nichole. "Wait a sec— hum, Kyle?"
Bebe is going to throw up and not because of the alcohol but the sweetness of his tone.
"Do you think he is going to kiss him?" Nichole furiously whispers in Bebe's ear, with her hand excitedly tightening on her arm. She has no idea what to think.
"Wha?" Kyle slurs.
"I need to talk to Butters, alone," Stan explains with a small smile. "Just go sit on the couch I will follow."
His eyes dart to the girls and Bebe decides she isn't going to give him any privacy. They should be happy that she isn’t close to Davíd because she would have mentioned this obvious foreplay.
Kyle frowns at him. His hand travels up to Stan's wrist. "I don't want to," he mutters.
"Dude, just one minute. I will be here," Stan promises.
Bebe is disappointed when Kyle seems to realize that she is here with Nichole, obviously watching. He lets go of him, still with his frown, but doesn't move away.
"Kyle, come on, we were going to watch a movie," Nichole tries when Bebe has no idea they were going to. "We can kick Cartman off the couch."
That seems to work on Kyle but not without giving a sort-of-warning look to Stan. Bebe stays next to the door, smirking at Nichole who drags Kyle away. Stan turns back to his phone with a dubious look on her. She gives him a thumbs-up and a fake encouraging smile.
"Sorry, Butters," he sighs out, "they are all drunk. And Kenny is wasted and— no, no, he is fine. Actually he wanted to come to your place. I brought him to an empty house.” Bebe admires, for a very short second, his ingenuity. “I don't think it was a good idea to bring him to your place with your dad, you know…" Stan trails off, uncomfortable on his feet. "Well, can you talk to him now? Don't tell him what I did but like, try to calm him down so he doesn't try again."
“Hi Butters!” Bebe chimes in, making sure she sneaks close enough to be too loud in Stan’s. She recognizes his cheerful answer as Stan elbows her with a frown. “Wait, I’m passing you to Kenny.”
He doesn’t fight against her grip but he looks exasperated enough to kick her outside the house if he has the option.
“Everything is alright?” Butters whispers. She could picture him hiding under his blanket.
“Yeah, all good.”
Kenny is quick to jump back to his relaxed-self when she hands him the phone. Happiness kicks in when he recognizes the voice.
"Leo!" He beams and straight up falls on his back on the ground even when Clyde tries to put him back on his feet. "Oh my God, Leo—”
Bebe’s shoulders relax when she hears Butters’ laugh. Truthfully, she didn’t think it would cheer her up in some way. It’s one of the nights she wants to dedicate to taking care of herself, to raise up the crown she is used to wearing. People could say all they want about queens - she couldn’t see why she couldn’t pamper herself. She hasn’t even started to call herself like that—except once or twice a week. Yet, she still can’t let her friends mope around, put that on her bad habit to dig for gossip or that she actually cares. It has nothing to do about the short talks she had with Butters, along with Annie, about talking with Kenny instead of waiting and pining like a lost princess.
At least Butters seems to hold Kenny in one place. She is about to return back next to Nichole’s side, who curiously watches how Kenny has now the sun coming out of his ass just with a phone call, when she notices that Stan had joined the group back.
"You brought him to an empty house? That’s smart," she comments in a low tone. Cartman is not that discreet at drunkily spying.
"Thanks. They were both too drunk to recognize where we were outside so,” Stan explains in amusement. Bebe mirrors his smile. “I thought it would be a good idea instead of making Kenny climb in someone else's house."
Looking through pictures is fun. Bebe likes to turn the page to watch the evolution of generations or simply how a kid dressed up as a vampire would still be an angry redhead that punches someone each week, years later, and has the best ass in the whole universe. Bebe never put a proper name on her childhood's crush on Kyle. It seemed to be only for his looks back then but she isn’t so sure. She actually likes to talk and hang out with him. It’s not frequent but good enough for them to exchange some deeper thoughts from time to time, even when they were growing up. There had been multiple times where Kyle tried to be subtle to talk about Stan and Bebe played along to not get him embarrassed and shut his mouth. It could also be that she has great deduction skills.
Bebe has learnt quite early that people talking about their attractions, and are honest about it, are considered sluts. She hasn’t only been called like this because of it, a part also comes from her looks and early puberty, and she has decided that she should not care about that kind of idiots. Bebe will continue on the road, waving goodbyes to the haters. If people can’t understand that she is able to discern sexual attraction from romantic attraction, then they are no use to her.
She used to worry too much when she grew up. With her quick and abundant puberty, she felt so exposed and more than often different, as if she shouldn’t be so confident to not give a fuck. It isn’t that easy. Because, somehow, people can’t only care about their own asses and need to comment on everyone’s move. Especially when people appear to feel good about themselves. Bebe has been like that before, there is no use denying it despite the shame. But that’s also how she knows how to take care of that kind of people.
So she parades around and kisses them dirty insults. She won’t listen to them, only following her life and enjoy it while they die like the miserable insects they are.
"Bebe." She startles at the disturbance in her bubble, hitting the cupboard with her elbow. "Sorry, you okay?" Clyde sheepishly asks as she swears under her breath.
"I almost had a heart-attack." Bebe complains and closes the picture book before addressing him with a small move of her chin. "You?"
He shrugs and crouches down to her side. “What were you looking at?”
“Embarrassing pictures of Kyle,” she answers. With a placide shrug, Bebe grabs the beer she has been sipping on. “For blackmail.”
“Find anything?”
“Meh. Nothing new.” He drinks when she hands her can. “Why did you leave the party?”
“To find you. Maybe you want to talk?” Clyde offers with a small grin while he rocks on his toes. “The whole Wendy stuff?”
Bebe glances away with a grimace. It was bound to happen since she had left her house. At least, Clyde has the sensibility to wait a bit unlike Stan. Unsurprisingly, Clyde is way better than him; than most boys actually even if people ignore it. Some part of her can’t imagine loving someone eternally as much as him. He makes her happy and things are simpler.
“It sucks.”
“Yeah. Looks like it.”
She takes a deep breath and wanders her eyes on his light dark vest. “We are probably going to cry,” she warns with a tight throat, testing the material between two manicured fingers.
His mouth purses, forcing into a tight smile. “You will?” She nods. “Yeah, I’m going to cry too then,” he agrees.
Bebe snorts because he doesn’t need much to start crying. He offers her a hand to help her to stand up. The picture book is put on the table in the corridor. Before she could reach for the bedroom, Clyde has already draped an arm around her shoulders.
“The party is boring?”
"Nah, just thought I left you enough time. I can go downstairs and watch the TV if you want. Though Kenny is still on the phone. I think he is going to fall asleep like that."
"Shit, Butters is keeping up?” Bebe thought they would be done by now.
Clyde breaks into a small chuckle. They crash in the bed. By elimination she supposes that Stan’s gang will stay in Kyle’s room and probably Ike’s. So she settled on the parents’ room. She should have turned away the pictures at least. It’s a bit too much.
His arm cuddles her and she settles against him. No matter what people say about her and Clyde - she knows better. It’s simple between them, their quiet understanding of each other has grown with a sweet love. They are platonic soulmates and it hit Bebe rather suddenly when she realized that. They’re it, no matter what people could say behind their backs.
“So…” Clyde’s head moves against a pillow before he freezes. "I feel like she is grounding me.” She turns, settling her cheek against his chest. A photo of mother Broflovski, proudly sits on a wardrobe. She is smiling but it doesn’t dissipate the aura around her. It looks like she knows that they are having a party downstairs and the two of them are invading her privacy. “She is scary.”
“Yeah.”
“Anyway, tell me,” he encourages, focusing back on her after looking one more time at the picture. His hug is comforting but she also wants to say that she doesn’t need it. She can’t really fight it though. As much as she bulks up, she can’t compare to a regular high top football player. “Is it that bad? You won’t speak to Wendy again?”
She groans out, “I don’t know.” She shifts to settle better against his chest. “I mean, I thought she would say yes—”
“What did she say? I can’t see her being a bitch, you know?”
“Well, she kind of was. She talked to me like I was a kid."
“Ah— I get-”
“She told me that I couldn’t be serious! She is supposed to be my friend so she should know when I am or not!” Clyde smiles bitterly. Bebe sighes and brushes her frange away from her face. “And, it’s not like I thought I had no chance. I really thought there was something. Our Friday nights became more and more dates." Clyde coes for a second. “I’m not delusional or crazy,” she whispers, “but— I guess I was wrong? I just didn’t expect her to-to act like that.”
“It’s weird, I mean she is not homophobic or mean usually.” His hand travels up her arm and back down, soothing her tension before he tightens his hug.
“You think she said that because I am a lesbian? And not her?”
Clyde shrugs. “Dunno. Why would she be so mean about it though? Can you become homophobic like that?”
“Wendy doesn’t care if I like dicks or pussies or both,” she says with a slight frown. “I mean I was never obvious about it but I think it’s obvious.”
“Yeah.”
She blinks, letting her eyes wander across the room. “I don’t think she took me seriously,” Bebe confesses.
The more she thinks about it, the less she could get out of the recent events. They had just finished talking about Wendy’s queer awareness club - Bebe joins it sometimes to help, even if it’s not much. Sometimes she would comment about someone’s story; like how this guy wanted to tell his girlfriend that sex is definitely not his thing but doesn’t want her to break up with him over it. Bebe has no idea how Wendy can be able to connect so easily with people. The only thing Bebe is certain of is to love yourself first. Nevertheless, Wendy cares about helping others—to break cliches and improve everything better. If she really wanted she could overthrow the whole society and make a better place. For now she tries to do it student by student which only makes Bebe admire her more.
Bebe had no idea how to make her confession perfect. When she pictured, they were together without any restraint, even if Wendy is a bit more reserved than Bebe she never complains when they would just watch a movie in underwear or slacks during their Friday nights.
Her confession only happened because Bebe watched and listened to Wendy with a bright pride and tremendous anticipation. There couldn't be a better moment for her to tell her feelings. It flooded out. Bebe had reached to intertwine their hands and Wendy smiled at her, all pretty and cute. Then her words fell like an apocalypse.
"Do you want a tissue?" Clyde whispers against her hair, arms sheltering her and only now she realizes the soothing sensation is his hand on her neck.
Bebe sniffs and makes a minimal shake of her head. She is pretty sure he had tears in the corners of his eyes, being a cry baby and tearing up when someone cries sounds troublesome but he never grew out of it.
"What do you think I should do?" Her words are low and quickly forces her to clear her throat.
His body shifts, giving away his small disquiet. "I don't know." Her eyes shift on the window at his answer. She recognizes the tree in the garden poorly lightened by the town's light and it has restarted to snow. "Do you think she thought it was a joke?"
There aren't many people who would think of a joke after 'Wendy, I really like you, I want to be your girlfriend if you like me too'. And even less someone as smart as her.
“It makes no sense but— she told me that I could go with anybody. Like I wasn’t serious about dating her?” Bebe sobs, breathing heavily to go on, "I just don’t get why she told me I could just fucking go like someone else. If she wants to reject me, fine, but she spoke like my feelings are a fling!"
A breath shakes her heart, if it wasn't for Clyde she wouldn't have let out a hideous cry. Luckily she is muffled against him and her throat slowly grows mute.
“Maybe she only said that so you don't feel bad," he supposes. "Or there is something else."
"Maybe," she admits but her eyes still burn. Frankly, there seems to be a backstory that she is completely missing. But Bebe also has no desire to find a justification for Wendy’s bitchiness. No matter what she wanted to hide, she didn't have to ignore her confession and act like Bebe just wanted romance for the sake of it. "I don't know."
The door bursts open - the surprise almost makes her stab herself in the eye as she rubbed the tears away. Kyle sprints to one of the cupboards of the room.
She is tempted to observe his antics but she barely has the strength to stretch her neck.
“What’s going on Kyle?” She articulates.
He sharply shushes her. She frownes, preparing a biting reply, when Clyde moves to stand on his elbows and leaves her head fall on the mattress.
“What the fuck, bro?”
“Shut up!” He hisses back, frantically searching through the furniture. “I don’t want to be found-fuck,” he blurts out when Stan comes in, catching him holding a bottle of rum that Bebe just noticed.
“Kyle,” he warns as the other swears another time.
The bottle of rum is sent spinning away under the bed just as Stan makes a step. Unlike Kyle, he is sober and so quicker to move and grab him before he escapes. Kyle tries to push him away but it isn’t enough, probably because Stan knows how to handle him without letting him get angrier or pissier.
“Give me back my bottle!”
“Dude, you are the one who sent it away, moron.” Stan says and tries to make him let go of the cupboard’s door.
“Can’t you two just find a room? I’m having a moment, here,” Bebe complains.
Kyle still fights his grip while Stan grants her and Clyde a quarter of his attention. “Oh— orry,” he says as he urges his friend to get on his legs, “tell me you aren’t sick.”
“We’re fine,” Clyde replies. “Do you need some help?”
“No, everything is fine,” he grunts when Kyle’s hand lands on his face. “Dude, you aren’t going to drink more!”
Bebe sighs over their looks to ‘assert dominance’, the kind of gay shit that annoys her at the moment, before she settles back her head on Clyde’s chest.
“They are impossible,” she confides. He only chuckles and she quickly follows as the door closes behind them two. “I think it’s the rum Kyle told me about. Wanna share it?”
“Yeah, let’s get smashed!” He smiles, moving to fetch it from where it rolled off.
They share the bottle, making a clink sound by themselves to make it more festive before their first shots. Instead of continuing on her recent heart-break, Clyde kindly changes the subject toward his upcoming match and she shares about the last cheerleaders training and what they are trying to add. He also mentions that his dad will have new shoes soon to sell at their shop, which is the trick for her to cheer up a bit.
Bebe puts her depression on having to talk to Stan at the beginning of the party, but now because of Tolkien too, who interrupted her moment with Clyde. Nothing wrong, he is trying to find Kenny who has sneaked away with Stan’s phone. Tolkien just arrived and is already stuck as the nanny. Stan really sucks. Worst is, he might be actually sucking a dick right now.
Though she decides to focus her hate on Tolkien because somehow, Clyde just has to follow him out—maybe something about how the pause is awkward when he walks on them. Even if there isn’t much to walk on. Clyde and her hadn’t been together for a long time - they still had some friendly hookups but it’s pretty rare and only when they are both single - so Tolkien certainly knows the whole story. Without her usual greed for gossip and teasing, she finds no energy to try and see what he could even think about them.
Bebe stares at the ceiling, trying to recognize which songs are playing downstairs. It’s hard because they turned down the volume but distracting enough. She recognizes Cartman’s voice yelling ‘Why the fuck Kenny is touching himself’ and apparently Kenny tries to reply. She closes her eyes to have a better focus on their voices. He yells lower than Cartman but she is quite sure he replied ‘I’m not I’m talking to Leo’— and she can’t believe they are still talking. But Cartman retorts with a shriek ‘I see your fucking hand in your pants!’ and this time, Kenny is loud reply ‘DON’T FUCKING WATCH YOU PERVERT!’.
She chuckles and passes a hand over her face. It has been a good idea to come here. Even if she can hear someone barfing his guts out at the other side of her door. She stands up, almost slipping but she retrieves herself on her elbow. With a hesitating stride she leaves her shelter and glances in the corridor. She grimaces at the vomiting noises, piercing through the music, before she braces herself to slip past the half-closed bathroom’s door.
“My ice cream,” Tweek chokes in the toilet. Another rumble erupts from his throat, thankfully he doesn’t throw up and only coughs what could be his lungs by now.
“Tweek, don’t talk,” Nichole advises with a pitying grimace. Tweek faintly gags at that and his knuckles turn whiter on the edge.
“Do you need a glass of water?” Bebe grimaces in her corner.
She looks up to meet her eyes. “Nah, I already sent Craig for that. You okay?” She asks as she brushes Tweek’s back. “I guessed you were with Clyde since he disappeared so I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“We talked. Then Tolkien showed up.” She rubs her eyes.
“Ah.” Nicholes chuckles like she knows something else.
“What?”
“I was just sure Tolkien had a date tonight, but I’m not surprised he came by.” Before she can ask for more crispy details, Tweek violently coughs and takes a deep breath, settling in front of the toilet. “You don’t want to lay down, Tweek?”
“No,” he croaks with pale cheeks. "I think I'm dying."
"No you are not."
"I am," Tweek mutters, properly hitting his head against the side of the toilet at his attempt to lean on it. "I can't die… without giving my account."
Bebe frowns while Nichole perks up and scrapes a hand through his hair. “Your— Minecraft account?”
“Overwatch?”
“Club Penguin," Tweek exhales. His eyes dramatically close just as Nichole's hand freezes. “I can't let Floppy Feet die-”
“Tweek, what the fuck," Bebe says and takes a closer look at him. She fights a small laugh, not sure how he would take it in his state. " Why are you on fucking Club Penguin?"
“Penguins are cute!”
“Not on this website!” She argues back but closes her mouth when he pales, arching over the toilet ready to throw up.
“They have floppy feet!” He cries out and doesn’t throw up.
“You’re too drunk, you need to sleep now,” she comments, glancing at Nichole who is checking the cupboards of the bathroom. “You are looking for medicine?”
“Yeah,” she confirms just as Tweek lets out a small sob. With a worried look, Nichole glances back to her.
Bebe moistens her lips, crouching to pat Tweek’s back, hoping to stroke away the pain. “Tweek?” Tweek never drank that much, and by the look of it it’s better for him not to, but it doesn’t help her to figure out how to help. She wants to delve into the fact that there might be really something going on. “Tweek, honey, don’t cry.”
By the sound, because apparently it’s better to keep his head inside the toilet, he doesn’t start to properly cry but the sobs are still enough for her heart to break. She is going to kick the boys’ asses for not looking after him. For now, she puts her arm across his shoulders to softly hug him. Tweek sniffs.
“I’m not sure about the meds, I need my phone to check,” Nichole says, settling on her knees next to him. “Are you okay? We should lay down, Tweek.”
Bebe frowns when he doesn’t answer—actually, he seems dead. She tightens her hand around his shoulder to push him away until her eyes fall on his smiling face. With a gasp stuck in her throat, she settles him - a bit strongly - against the tub.
“Asshole!” She is close to slap his head when Tweek bursts out with a happy giggle.
“Oh my God, Tweek!” Nichole joins with a frown. “You can’t scare us like that!”
“Don’t— fucking laugh, you ass!” Bebe says and softly hits the side of his head. He tries to avoid it but just keeps on giggling with mirth appearing in the corner of his eyes. At least he isn’t throwing up. Now he can’t stop laughing.
“I have no idea what to do,” she confesses in her ear.
“I think he is broken,” she whispers back as he holds onto his stomach to continue his euphoria. "We should, maybe, put him unconscious."
"What?! We can't do that," she hisses, giving a look at Tweek who seems to have coped. "He doesn't look like he has the strength to move anyway."
Tweek doesn’t act like he is sane anymore. Just as she is about to suggest finding a comfier place - because he looks close to laying down - Craig opens the door to join their small joyful group.
"Hi Craig!" Tweek cheers with his back continuing his slow descent against the bathtub. Nichole drags him back up on his ass.
"Hi," Craig, without his hat, cautiously replies. He checks on him before his perplexed gaze falls on Bebe. "I left for like— a second, what the fuck did you do?"
"What? He is sick, we are trying to help him!"
Not one bit of his sort of pissed frown is making sense - it's not like Bebe did anything. She even tried to push Tweek toward other things than the alcohol downstairs.
He pointedly ignores her and hands a small bottle of water. Nichole thanks him. Bebe frowns and purses her lips together to not tell him that he has no right to call her or Tweek out.
"Drink that and you are going to sleep," she says.
Tweek’s eyes briskly return to Craig before he listens and drinks the water.
"Come on, let’s go," Bebe encourages and gives Tweek a boost to get on his feet.
"Wait, what?" Craig interrupts. "What are you going to do?"
"Me and Nichole are going to lay down so we keep him with us until he falls asleep. He really doesn’t need to drink more."
"I don't want to sleep," Tweek objects but falls quiet when Nichole pats his head with a shush.
Craig's gaze returns on Bebe without confidence. "He is worse than a minute ago, if you are taunting him he is not going to feel better." He says ignoring her scandalized look. "Tweek, do you want to puke?"
"What the fuck! Shut up Craig!" She replies. "Don't make him think of it, stupid asshole."
“Don’t shout," Nichole cuts before he can reply. "He just needs to lay down without too much noise."
Tweek seems to be already half-asleep by the way she struggles to lift him up like a ragdoll. Bebe helps as much as she can and they both manage to carry him toward the bedroom.
Craig stays close even after she tells him to go fuck himself. She almost shuts the door right in front of him, but he holds it enough to meet her glare.
"Stop being an ass, Craig," she hisses before he can talk. "We are taking care of him, now shoo." He frowns and flips her off which she graciously returns. "We are not going to make him do anything he doesn't like, chill off." With that she closes the door.
A small part of her believes that Craig actually cares, maybe something about drunk people, but she can’t risk Tweek’s health on a sudden sign of kindess from him - he barely lets drunk Clyde anywhere near him. Plus Craig loves gossip, despite what everyone thinks so when seeing him, and she doesn’t want him to torture Tweek. She focuses back on him, lounging in the middle of the bed. Nichole has the reflex to take the bottle of water out of his hand, settling it on the night table, before he spills it.
“Okay, what do we do with him?”
She peers at Bebe and Tweek rolls himself in the blanket with a drunk snicker. “Piggy blanket, I guess.”
Bebe quietly sighs and sits down at the end of the bed. At least, Tweek can’t run away or hurt himself.
“Maybe we should have taken a bucket or something, in case he wants to throw up.”
“I don’t want to,” he replies.
“Try to sleep, Tweek,” Nichole whispers and pampers his hair. “Make us some place, please.”
He groans and reluctantly does so. They both chuckle and settle around him. Bebe watches how he keeps blinking at a slow pace, clearly fighting against sleep. Nichole’s hand carefully strokes his messy strands of hair. By how he leans into it, it’s pleasing him.
“So what are you doing, next?”
“Not sure yet,” Bebe whispers back with a small shrug. “Clyde is cheering me the most he can, we will probably hang out together. If he doesn’t have boys’ plans.” Nichole glances at her, offering a smile that means she is also available. “But for Wendy…”
Tweek gasps and urgently flips around, almost hitting her with the blanket. His head heavily falls on her chest. Bebe frowns for the slight uncomfort on her boobs and shifts him to not be crushed.
“What did she say?” He slurs.
“Wendy?” He tries to nod. “Well, she rejected me,” Bebe simplifies, remembering that all of it happened today. “It’s sort of obvious, Tweeker.”
His eyebrows furrow and she passes a hand over them but it doesn’t soothe them. “I don’t like that surname.”
“I think it’s cute,” Nichole counters, chuckling at his sort-of dirty look.
Bebe tries to untangle his hair with her free hand. “It is,” she confirms. From what she heard, it isn’t used to mock him. Especially if it’s from Clyde.
“No.”
“Aw, grumpy Tweeker.” He moves his head to avoid her amused kiss on his forehead. “Come on,” she cooes.
“I don’t want your girl juice,” he replies. She pauses to give a look to Nichole, who just raises her eyebrows. “You gave me girl juice.”
“What.”
“I didn’t want girl juice,” Tweek insists.
“I think he is talking about the kiss you gave him,” Nichole says.
Bebe barks a laugh, promptly trying to quiet it down when she is at the end of his sulking glare. For good measure he curls in a ball.
"It bothered you that much, honey?" She wonders when she is sure she can keep it together. "I'm sorry, I was angry and— Wendy said that I could go kiss anybody else when I told her that I wanted to kiss her."
“Still.”
“I’m sorry, Tweek.”
“She means it.”
Tweek stays quiet. Bebe exhales and closes her eyes, balancing herself on her elbow, before she leaves his blond hair to rub one of her eyes. "Can you pass me the water?" She quietly asks.
"You can cry," Nichole comments, reaching for the bottle and handing it after sitting.
"I know, I know."
The drink is tasteless in comparison to everything else. Saltiness from her tears, overwhelming heat from the alcohol and the dry taste in her throat after Wendy. She still wants to know how she would taste with a kiss. If it would change between a chaste and torrid one.
"Tweek, you want to go to the toilet?"
Bebe glances down at her tone to realize that he looks paler in the dim room. The moon is hitting Nichole’s back so she leans away to bring a light on his face. He just shakes his head and looks very fragile.
They don’t quite believe him. Bebe is starting to wonder if they shouldn't bring him there, just in case. With a hand passing on his forehead, she softly scrapes his head and almost smiles at the small appeased sigh from Tweek.
“Why is life that complicated, you know? I mean I wanted to give Wendy some love but she— acted like a true bitch," Bebe grumbles, almost hitting her teeth with the bottle when she tried to furiously drink it since her self control is in her hand petting Tweek.
"I know." Nichole rolls on her back to look at the ceiling. "I think she panicked."
She scoffs after a quick swallow. “Yeah, well, it still sucks. Love isn’t supposed to suck. Except for Stan and Kyle. And every guy in that town probably.”
Nichole laughs, almost convincing her to but Bebe prefers to drink instead. A small refresher to fight back the tears. Tweek breaks into a big giggle.
"I know!" He exclaims, coughing up a laugh with a new vigor that startles them. His stretched arms heavily fall down. One hits Nichole's hip but she is too incredule to notice it.
They just have the time to share a look before he continues. “It’s horrible!” He rolls a bit, his hands lazily going on his stomach. “Like— geez, maybe a kiss or two but you get nothing.”
“What?” Bebe stares, feeling the same incomprehension as Nichole by the look of it.
“What’s the point if it’s not-” his laugh falls dead, “why do we like people if they won’t like you too? Whothe fuck made that stupid system?"
“You like someone, Tweek?” Nichole asks with a jump as he adds a 'it sucks!'. Bebe is inclined to join his drunken state and just lash out at the universe, but she can’t ignore gossip.
Tweek blinks at the ceiling. “Yeah," he slurs. "He is so hot. Tall. Smells great."
Bebe gasps and immediately slaps Nichole's shoulder. She stammers a squeal as she looks at each other. "Oh my God! It's a guy!"
They glance back at him, before they try to communicate through vague movements of eyebrows and silent lips.
"Who is i-"
"Wait! We can't ask that when he is drunk!"
"I want to know!" Bebe retorts.
"Me too! But he is drunk and you know that he will panic when he is sober again," she argues. “You know how Tweek is.”
"I wanna be a cowboy."
They fall silent, staring at Tweek’s closed eyes until Nichole bursts into a giggle. Bebe fights back her amusement by the lack of intel, cataloging every guy she can think of.
She absentmindly pats his forehead. "Try to sleep instead of quoting vines."