Hurt People
A halo of lights bless Craig’s tall figure just as Hell’s breath burns Tweek’s cheeks. It’s unfair. And petty. Because it makes him feel wrong for looking away. Tweek doesn’t know what to do; if it is decent to start the debacle or waiting for the bomb to drop and improvising with it.
He stubbornly stares at the crowd, grasping at the small scraps. It’s only because of his unfair height, nevermind Tweek’s mind playing tricks with the dopamine which his brain obviously enjoys so much, but he can’t ignore Craig. He might be ready to take all these pills to quell all his fucked up emotions. He doesn’t have much to lose at this point.
“Tweek?”
His body reacts like a bear trap. Yet he still doesn’t allow himself to turn or show any sign of recognition as his teeth painfully crunch together. The song lulls the rest of the world except for the tension building in him but Tweek focuses on it. The weight of the bomb standing next to him still hovers, driving his pulse erratic.
Craig has driven him crazy since 8th grade and Tweek never realized he has grown used to the mute pain.
Tweek vaguely wonders when he would have enough. Craig clearly doesn’t know when either. The angry bile of words is swallowed and he grimaces at it.
“You want to talk to a slut, now?” He petulantly sneers without caring if the music doesn’t cover his words. “Wouldn’t want to catch chlamydia by coming too close.”
Craig sits down at the other side of the table, the light sofa bouncing enough for Tweek to feel it. He glances at the can Craig puts on the table, which he stares at, and quickly looks at the stage when his eyes turn towards Tweek.
“I didn’t mean that.”
“Yeah, well I’m sure your parents didn’t mean for you to be such a dickhead,” Tweek childishly retorts.
The silence satisfies him but the temptation is growing so he takes a quick glance at Craig. He mulls over when he will catch the hint and leave because Tweek won’t.
“I’m sorry about what I said,” Craig says, with a small sigh, “everything I said. I didn’t mean it like that-” Tweek scoffs and pushes his weight against the booth. Craig scrapes the can on the table with his mouth hanging around words, glancing between him and it. “It was a— a bad day and I just… I guess I didn’t think this through.”
Biting on the envy to answer, Tweek squirms in his seat and tries to recognize the new song.
“Oh yeah, that makes sense,” he spits when he does.
“PC was annoying and– it was just the last straw and... I-I don’t think you’re a slut or anything like that,” Craig admits and Tweek watches him lean away while he stares at the can he turns between his hands. “Just thought you were more the type to wait for a real relationship. With— you know, feelings and stuff.”
“That’s a bit hypocritical for you.”
“What?”
“I don’t see why you think that when you did it with whatever her name is.”
Tweek knows one of the potential names: Bethany who strips Craig every day in the corridor. It’s too random for her to spend her summer vacation at the same place as him to not be on purpose, so Tweek supposes she isn’t the first one. He has been keeping an eye on her because he doesn’t want to copy her love-struck face.
“What are you talking about?” Craig slowly asks and the dim colorful lights meet his eyes in that unfair but attractive way.
Tweek glares at him. “You know what I’m talking about. This summer, you—” he doesn’t want to say it-”Clyde even tweeted it.”
Craig looks at him in confusion but he doesn’t shrink. His eyes travel on the table just as the band says their goodbyes. Tweek disappointedly glances at the scene to catch the last glimpse of the musicians.
“Clyde tweets everything,” he mumbles before a small noise leaves him. Tweek looks at him with a small frown at the almost-chuckle. “You mean the tweet when I came out?”
“You what?”
“I came out to my dad last summer. Clyde tweeted something stupid like ‘my boy did it’ or whatever with a lot of pride flags.”
Tweek sees the exact picture behind his eyelids; not only because he looked for it yesterday with a feverish anger when he couldn’t sleep. He hasn’t been able to understand why he wouldn’t be allowed to have sex but Craig could.
“So, you are—?”
Craig squints and quickly looks away without holding it for several seconds. “Yeah.”
He hasn’t done it.
So, why did Tweek do it?
The blow numbs his ears. For a moment, his eyes only notice the kaleidoscopic dance on their table.
Why did he have sex again?
“Do you want to?” Tweek blurts out, looking up.
His cheeks burn crimson just as his hands pinch at each other, trying to gasp some ground to find his sanity. The deafening stare holds on until an electric guitar lands like thunder.
Craig looks at him wide-eyed with his skin reflecting the red light dancing around them and mouth ajar. “Do I..,” his articulation freezes over the ‘want’.
Tweek finally hears himself. “I didn’t mean— not like,” he croaks back and throws his hands on his lap when he hits the back of the couch, “it’s not like we -ngh- can do it here and -er- you know, without the condom.” Tweek feels himself wheezing. Craig coughs and the can abruptly changes to his other hand when the other freezes over his mouth. “I… I didn’t mean it in that way…”
Craig quickly clears his throat. “Yeah, no, I get it.”
“Cool.”
The singer has already reached the enthralling refrain but Tweek can’t care less about it. Their eyes are still onto each other, filling up the silence of their small idyll where spots are drawing rainbows on their skins. Tweek tries to not stare or even think about Craig. It is hard with the temptation right in front of him. Even more because he can feel his anger melting away without reluctance.
His ears still burn at the revelation, not caring one bit for the chilling lull. Instead, he pictures the words - how Craig simply came out and didn’t have sex when Tweek did it while imagining and wishing it had been with him. He simply loses the substance carrying him and his convictions to feel somehow guilty.
He could ask for more details. Like why Craig didn’t do it when they are people quite obviously interested in him or even what are the details about his fantasies. Even though Craig is looking at him, Tweek still feels far away and not entirely seen. He only wants to know if he could be what pleases Craig. No limits–
Their eyes still indulge each other while the song moves to another one. It is hazy with the myriad of lights sparkling around them. They aren’t letting each other breathe—Tweek struggles against the heat on his cheeks and now reaches his nipples. He must look terrible with the heavy gasps he went through - they are what makes him survive. Though that would be an interesting experience to do, to see what will kill Tweek faster between a lack of air or Craig.
“So, you two are like, together?”
“Who?”
Craig returns his stare but his green eyes avoid him, again, to settle on the table. “You and Kenny.”
Tweek pauses at the mention of his friend - Kenny instead of McCormick like usual. It sounds like it’s a good gesture; Craig has only called Tweek by his name but then his family name is pronounced quite the same so maybe he says his family name.
“We never were together,” he answers to not hear his head conspirate. When Craig doesn’t continue and instead looks very concerned about his can after drinking it, Tweek squirms in his seat and takes a breath. “Maybe another time, another place. I mean— I don’t know but we never were really like that.”
He gets an answer like a clearing of the throat. The band changes and Tweek watches them leave the scene with a flourish and happy stroll. Tweek isn’t sure what Craig is waiting for. Maybe for the night to pass or for his apology to be accepted. He is too frail on his feelings to be sure about it. Instead he lets his mouth go wild.
“How was it?” Tweek tells with a knot jumping from his stomach to his throat. “With your dad? I mean -ngh- it went well by the look of Clyde’s tweets.”
“It was great until he started to ask me what I think of every dude we meet.”
Tweek snorts as he pictures but Craig is shyly smiling and his heart leaps out like a suicidal fish. “I can’t picture him like that.”
“Just try to not meet him because he asks everyone if they are single,” he half-heartedly jokes, earning a chuckle from Tweek that almost makes him grin. “Can’t even go to the grocery store with him anymore.”
“It’s sweet though,” he opts for.
Craig shrugs after their eyes meet. Tweek’s throat dries out and tries to smile back but he is certain that it is far from the cute small grin Craig ever received.
“They are good.”
Tweek struggles for a second but the other signs with his head toward the music, clearing the fog to only leave a thrill for Tweek to enjoy.
“Yeah.” He looks at the band so he doesn’t become a creep because of his staring at Craig but when he turns back Craig is already waiting for him; quiet and mesmerizing. “I didn’t think you would, er, want to come,” Tweek whispers and plays with his hands under the table.
“Why not?”
“You’re not that into music,” Tweek explains.
“I listen to music,” he argues, glancing at his can before drinking it.
“That doesn’t mean you are into it.”
Craig looks up at him but doesn’t disagree. Tweek glances at the band, reaching the chorus with the crowd getting louder with every word. He doesn’t recognize any of his friends in the crowd but from his spot he doesn’t have a good view. With a cautious shyness, he glances back to Craig to indulge in his hatless figure and how well his shoulders are under the jumper; he expected for him to come with his usual sober and nonchalant clothes but it is obvious that he tried something tonight.
No matter the reason of the why or how, it brings a silly pleasure to Tweek by letting him wonder how his hair would look all disheveled.
His own blond hair is always chaotic and hardly behaves nice whenever he tries to brush them. Unlike Craig’s, which always is and probably will be until he dies, the most shiny and soft-looking hair. Even when he just played a baseball game in the middle of the summer, Craig’s hair had still looked so proper with the sweat and a few rogue strands because of his hands. Tweek really wishes that he was more jealous than charmed.
“I like to listen to you playing.”
Tweek looks at him with a small blush, awfully embarrassed of the times when he didn’t realize Tolkien’s friends were around. Tweek doubts that he looks cool when he is focused on playing.
“Thanks, I-I didn’t think we would play that well together.” His shoulder anxiously shifts into a shrug. Craig lets, again, one small smile appear on his face; one that he isn’t used to witnessing, especially so many when there are no guinea pigs around. He tries to not frown. “I’m still mad at you.”
Tweek feels bad at the violent shift in the green eyes - but he can’t let it go. No matter how many hours he has spent thinking about Craig, Tweek knows he can’t follow the line to be blindly dedicated to him. His mind is crazy enough. He can’t lose more of it.
“I thought so,” Craig admits and crosses his arms on the table to support himself. “I’m— I’m just honestly sorry.”
It could make sense because Tweek doesn’t really bring or give anything useful to Craig; so why would he go through an apology if it wasn’t out of good gesture - his stomach erupts with billions of tinglings.
They share a few glances before turning back to the singing crowd. Tweek is relieved that they could still hear each other despite the table between them. It would have been a good excuse to shift closer to Craig but—Tweek is over it.
Tonight! Tongiht is the time he will follow what’s good for his brain and not the crazy chemicals; the one making him squirm in his seat when Craig shoots him an almost missable grin and sets fire to his face. Instead Tweek will not think more about the dark hair or the fit body he can recognize just by the shoulders, how much he wants to slip in that small gap where skin and tissue meet– how comfy– nor even the head or two Craig has over him that makes something inside him far too happy when he should be worried about being squished like a bug.
Craig could squish him. In the best way.
Tweek is about to write down a finality to his feelings.
Maybe Cartman is right. Tweek has so far only watched the trains, busy with others' lives, rushing in front of him while he waits for something– anything. It isn’t that he never worked or put efforts into something but so far what made him happy always fell on his lap—sort of; his friends went to him first and the music sort-of too.
Craig is a problem. Though, Tweek never really fought against it. But now he has to. Otherwise he will stay at the same spot for another year while doing absolutely nothing. He doesn’t want to wait for Craig to figure out about his feelings and reject him, though at this point he should have figured it out by now. Maybe Tweek is too blind to not realize that Craig is stupid.
He is so gone and all in the wrong way. That’s why he will throw it all away so next year he can use his nights for something else to do than fantasizing.
Tweek startles at the start of a new song when he is about to tell with a light joke that he accepts but needs some time to forgive him. Craig must have seen that he was about to speak too because he is expectantly looking at him. He finds himself caught by the intensity of it but he is saved by the two excited loud cheers from his friends.
His mouth stays open, still meeting his beautiful eyes, when Kenny and Stan clumsily barrel at their table. Craig almost jumps in surprise when Kenny lands half-way on the table.
“It’s our song!” Stan exclaims, his hand uselessly holding Kenny’s arm who clumsily whoops when he tries to straighten up.
Tweek’s brain is a bit out of track, only understanding what they meant when he is picked up from his seat with his friends whooping right into his ear. He does try to say something to Craig; there are a lot of choices from 'I think I’m your soulmate’ to ‘I could help you to not be a virgin anymore’.
Instead, he awkwardly smiles and signs between him and his friends dragging him away. Craig stares at him but doesn’t move as the crowd gets between their eyes.
His friends are right about the song. They do have a lot of ‘our songs’ so he is a bit miffed that it had to happen now. He still dances and sings along with them, bouncing against each other. The band is on fire. Tweek is jealous and avidly watches the way they sing with the public, almost losing his footing after the lead singer smiles— he wants to be up there.
He doesn’t know why because he doubts that he would enjoy all the attention. But playing music with a crowd appears so different; more raw. Tweek has never thought that he would like music outside from listening to it but, here he is, wanting to be on there with the heat.
Tweek avoids at the last second someone’s arm. To his relief, the crowd lets out a last cheer when the band finishes the song, leaving him breathing for a second the temperature and Stan’s sudden cologne. He didn’t notice it before, probably because his brain feels like it has melted out and everything else is eating his senses.
His friends smile, half-hugged and half-nudging each other while they get away from the mass. Yet Tweek’s mind has left him, somewhere around Craig or the crowd because it is still foggy when they are looking for the rest of their friends. His heart is beating up in his skull and he doesn’t feel any resignation or cheer when Stan sweaps Kyle away from Tolkien to kiss him.
Tweek’s body barely cools down when a lava sweat washes over him. Deaf to the music and his friends laughing, he tries to figure out where he is and when the crowd will crush him. Something doesn’t let him walk backward.
When his hand meets the wall, the knot jumps in his throat by pushing out any dust of oxygen; Tweek stumbles around, looking for where the bathroom door disappeared to—only to see that there are no other exits. Just a mass of people coming from all sides and cornering him. He can’t breathe because his lungs are cemented. A white noise stalks him at every turn but there isn’t much space to escape. His skin strangles him and Tweek can’t find where to scratch to open his throat. There is a small relief when his nails finally dig there but it’s not enough to catch a breath.
He doesn’t see Craig anywhere. Nor his friends in the crowd. Their table is empty, not even a trace that he sat with Craig. At the opposite of each other. Of the world.
What tries to grab him finally manages to despite his two violent jerks. He tries to fight it but he already struggles against the numbness in his legs. Still, he doesn’t let himself go and he fights back the grip and manages to punch something that jumps at the shock.
His throat struggles to swallow the sudden ice slashing through his guts. He is shaken up and glued on a spot. His eyes furiously blink but they start to cry, finally relieving him to realize it’s Craig holding him.
Tweek gulps down when he meets his worried frown - mind still blurry but holding on the familiarity of his eyes. They stay quiet, the air small between them but neither move away.
“Are you okay?” Craig asks with a low voice.
Tweek gulps down and a curt nod escapes him. He looks at him, apparently checking over him with his hands brushing once up and down his arms. Halfway through the shudders, Tweek feels the steady beats coming from the music behind the wall. They are outside.
His throat croaks and he lamely stumbles out, “what? Yeah.”
“You looked— lost, in there.”
Tweek can picture how he must look like. It might be because of his lack of sleep or for the crowd taking over.
“Yeah, hum,” Tweek whispers with a glance around. “Thanks.”
Craig lets him go after a few seconds but lingers at his side. They are feet away from a streetlight, making it bright enough for Tweek to notice the door they must have gone through beside it. They are circled by shadows yet it feels safe.
When Tweek reluctantly glances back to Craig, he is looking around and almost turns at the opposite of the blond. He might be trying to give him space but the proximity is here and making his skin hum with a gentle heat. The song is unrecognizable playing inside the building. A trio of girls walks past them, without looking at them, with loud laughs when one fails to throw her can in the trash.
The door closes behind them, letting them stand in a soft winter night. Their eyes don’t meet. Tweek quietly brushes his hands together, without clear use for them and fearing what he might do with them.
“Do you need my jacket?”
Tweek looks up. His stomach squirms at the dizzying head Craig has over him. With a wry smile, he shakes his head. “It’s just the cold sweat,” he explains.
Craig doesn’t take off his jacket or offer any contact. He does lean on the wall next to Tweek, who might be the only one measuring the short distance between their shoulders.
“I’m sorry if I scared you. You didn’t seem to hear me so—” Craig’s lips are simple. Tweek has known that for a year or so but he enjoyes seeing them when he talks, the only time they aren’t looking thin because he has the habit to express himself with pursing his lips and nothing else. His heart twirls when his green eyes fall on him when he doesn’t expect it.
“I thought it would be better to get you out of here. With less music and less people.”
Tweek isn’t sure if he heard everything he said, but he still nods with a jerky hope his face could show the confusion. “Thank you…”
The beat dies down behind the wall.There are a few car noises and voices that might be coming from the front of the building. He hears himself breathing in and out.
“You’re welcome.”
A blush disturbs Tweek. It makes him twitch and he shoves his hands under his armpits.
“Are they—er, where are the others?”
“Who?” Tweek throws a meaningful glance at the door when Craig looks at him in confusion. “I think they tried to return to the table or find another one,” he says, “you stayed behind so…”
Neither adds anything else but when Tweek tries to nod to show that he listened, their shoulders meet. Both stay put at the new contact and he tries to not think what it means.
Not that he could even explain it or even want to. There isn’t a lot Tweek would willingly want Craig to know.
Even if his whole body heats up and his mind threads a whole fantasy every night just around Craig’s hands—Tweek struggles to find what he would like for him to know.
But he doesn’t - won’t - have to think about that soon enough. Because Tweek will move on, no more mooning or fantasies about Craig. It might leave a void, but if Tweek is good at something it’s distracting himself and replacing an obsession with another one.
It isn’t the right time to suggest he never tried before.
“Anyway, hum,” Tweek clears his throat and shuffles his hands behind his back to fidget with them discreetly, “excited for the break?”
Craig takes enough time for Tweek to believe that he might have been stood up. “I guess,” he replies with an odd voice. “It’s always nice to be stuck with your family once in a while.”
Tweek has never really understood what is really the dynamic behind the Tucker’s household; if it is just a blunt and cold facade and they are acutally lovely with each other or it isn’t one. There must be a lot of embarrassing love and teasing from what he saw between Craig and Tricia.
Once Laura Tucker had scrubbed her son’s face, holding his taller head like Craig is a kitten, before letting him go play in the highschool’s baseball match. Tweek had been jealous, even when Stan didn’t stop giggling evily.
“Your grandmother is coming then?” Tweek quickly diverts his gaze when Craig turns to slightly frown at him. He squashes the front of his sneakers on the cement.
“Well— yeah. Why not?”
Tweek shrugs and realizes his hands are back in front of him. “You said that you were in a bad mood yesterday so I thought it had something to do with your Christmas. Maybe she couldn’t come and that’s why,” he explains without the obvious ‘everyone knows you are a grandma’s boy’ but he can’t fully hide a small smile despite his best efforts.
By the look in his eyes, Craig realizes something and then he nods. “Yeah,” he blurts out, “it’s… She can come actually. Almost didn’t.”
“I’m glad for you.”
Craig glances at him but swiftly glances away before he seems to decide it isn’t enough. He shifts to settle on his side, against the wall, making their shoulders break apart to instead face Tweek who stubbornly ignores a blush.
“Thanks.” Tweek nervously smiles and scratches his fingersn hidden away in his overall’s pockets. “What about you?” Craig muses like there is something loud between them; but Tweek barely hears the beat behind them. “Your parents are going away or something.”
At his nod, Craig crosses his arms and wets his lips. “It doesn’t bother you? Staying here.”
“Even if they had proposed I would have stayed here. Probably,” he confesses with a weird sense of guilt. “It’s not like they are—” Tweek mulls over his words: they aren’t family. It would fit well but he doesn’t want to appear cruel or pitiful. It hurts just to think about it so he decides to shrug. "I have Ninky to take care of and they don't know about her. It will be fun."
"They don't know about your duck?"
"They would just ask me if she has any use with coffee so no," he snorts at his own words and preens under the slight smirk Craig offers.
"I thought you only left her with Tolkien because of the pool."
Tweek watches him, carefully not letting his eyes drop on his lips more than thrice. "You met her?" He never pictured Craig next to a duck before. It makes him feel giddy that it was Ninky of all ducks, as if Craig handed him his own guinea pig: Sprice 6th.
Tweek can’t exactly ask him to hang out next to a pool without thinking what it could be without clothes—maybe next year he could without getting a vivid body reaction.
"Yeah, she hates me."
"What?"
Craig doesn’t seem as bothered or angry about it. Tweek feels even worse when he lifts his foot to drag up the end of his jeans where his ankle and the skin above it are covered by red vicious spots.
"The first time I saw her Marsh was here, he told her to attack."
"Oh my God," Tweek croaks out, without waiting a second to crouch down to look closer. "I'm so sorry! I didn't think she would— wait Stan did what?"
Craig is already here to meet his shocked eyes. Tweek only realizes that something must be wrong because his green eyes are slightly widened - enough for him to indulge in them before his hand burns when he sees it is on Craig's bottom calf.
Tweek just touched his body hair.
It isn't a big deal. His heart might think so. But it isn't.
Tweek is going to the horny jail before Kenny at this rate.
The cold doesn’t rush away the awkward pause. More like sealing this image by flitting past Tweek’s crouched figure and Craig standing on a single foot.
"He told her to attack and…" Tweek is probably red all over, but his knees feel wobbly and he doesn’t want to be more ridiculed. "Everytime she sees me she keeps pinching me until I'm like in the living room or something."
"I didn't know, sorry," he articulates back between his heart cadencing like a wild horse and the violent shame about his duck and stupid, useless, friends. "He's stupid. And Ninky is smart," he clips. "I will make sure she stops."
Craig doesn’t answer. Probably because it is enough to see Tweek crouched like a miserable shit or that he is ready to kick him in the chin.
This is the best moment for Tweek to get back in the concert, lose himself in the crowd to freak out in a corner about his hand still on his calf. He is already not doing well on the whole ‘stop thinking about Craig’ but he can at least stop touching him.
Craig lets go of his pants' sleeve before his foot is back on the ground and crouches down.
Tweek looks up, out of fear, and he is right to do so because their knees are almost touching.
His eyes greet each other and they stay quiet while they listen to the new music beating the wall.
"Do you want to go home?"
He swallows something salty. "What?"
Craig's eyes reach for something between soothing and sad. Tweek thinks he might hallucinate.
"You don't look good. I can drive you home if you need."
Tweek really doesn't feel good. He hadn't wanted to come but didn't want to miss the concert. Ignoring Craig feels helpless - moving on from anything that could drug him up; back to square one with a fuzzy stomach and the envy to cry and laugh.
He hugs himself even if he feels feverish, snuggling his face in them on his knees. "I'm alright," he says, hoping to mean it.
His head is a mess and his heart plummets in the same pathetic manner. There is so much to think about but in the end it always comes back to Craig. It’s sickening.
He is obsessed and frail and sick and looking like a broken trinket that was brought back together too many times. Squished, toyed, trampled, lost - everything makes him want to give up but yet he is stuck. Coward.
Tweek doesn’t feel the tears coming up. A dry throat, uneven skin and bones poking out from the thin meat doesn’t stop blur the small pressure on his forearm. He shifts just enough to peek out with one eye. Craig's fingers rest on him, brushing for a second before they stall.
If Tweek leant toward it, his cheek could touch them. He watches them curl around his forearm, human and oddly making as right as it feels wrong.
"I know it helps to—" Craig fumbles on his feet for a second. Tweek feels it by the pressure on him but he is too curious to know what he would say next. "The cow thing."
"I'm a cow," Tweek articulates, still not understanding but perhaps if he says so-
"What? No."
"You said that," Tweek chuckles and succumbs.
He peers over his arms to see him.
Craig without enough space between them.
Craig with one of his knees timidly sneaking between Tweek's.
Craig looking weird without his hat on but so handsome.
"I didn't say you were a cow. I told you what they do to relax them."
Maybe he actually would remember that tomorrow. But Tweek is content right here. Lulling a last time around the idea of Craig.
There isn't much else to think about.
It is scary.
His senses are ashes and still burning with a stubbornness that makes them clash.
It isn't like when the meth has him by the throat; more gentle and oddly rooted further than this.
Tweek is in love.
In all the wrong ways.
A pair of arms settles around him and he hiccups a small laugh. The cows are hugged before being killed and Tweek has never been more jealous; hugged to death. His sweet torture continues.
He only decided a day ago, another time an hour again and a second ago that he lets go of that. It’s ridiculous he realizes with a violent sob.
There must be something worse than crying and laughing against Craig Tucker's shoulder. One of his hands stays on his back even though their crouching is so uncomfortable that it would be better to fall together now. His neck melts where the other hand brushes on it, like a ghost. It leaves a trail of goosebumps and a lost want.
Tweek holds onto him after another sob. Craig squeezes him harder. Their knees are weirdly angled together and at once they are brought right against each other. He puffs in and out. The silliness of his tiredness and exasperation stop his tears but Craig doesn’t realize that by how he keeps going, never stopping his hands or letting any crumbs of the hug disappear.
When Tweek swallows a breath - Craig appears to follow because Tweek feels his throat shift before his legs lose the ground. Almost falling on his ass, he saves himself with a hand that Craig quickly copies, saving himself from crushing Tweek on the ground but still looming over him.
"Sorry," Craig gasps out and Tweek stares at the flush on his cheeks. Craig quickly stands up and tugs him up. "We might catch a cold, we should—" his head gestures behind them without looking away.
Tweek follows quietly, not staring at their holding hands or looking back where he should be buried. Craig's hand isn’t that big but by the feeling of it, Tweek's own one is engulfed too far to even think of getting out.
They don’t return to the concert and he barely thinks about it, ready to follow where his feet might bleed if it means watching this broad back heading to a future he clearly won’t have. Yet, Tweek doesn’t expect for Craig to open Clyde's car - actually struggling with one hand to do so. The backdoor is open for him when he finishes swiping his wet face against his sleeve.
They stare at the inside of the car, no music to save them from the silence, and Craig glances at Tweek after a second. He considers what they might be doing; if it is worth it when he is over Craig. At some point, it has to pass so he isn't wrong.
But this might haunt him. So Tweek gingerly climbs in. He accepts one last shot and realizes it is for the best when he watches Craig follow in, door closing behind them.
Knowing when is the last time should be helpful; that way, they can bathe in the feeling without thinking too much about it. Well, just Tweek. It’s the last time and that’s that.
"Are you feeling better?"
He feels nude and bleeding but in the right way. It has to happen so it’s not so bad. Tweek has made his decision.
"Yeah, thanks," he whispers without feeling sorry.
Craig smiles in the quiet light of his phone and glances toward the front of the car. "Do you want me to put on some music?"
"Sure." If anything, he wants to listen to how Craig's heart beats.
Maybe Tweek knows his friends' heartbeats. He watches Craig look at his screen before leaning over to reach the commands. The engine disrupts the silence but it quiets down soon enough for Tweek to think it might truly be the last time. Craig comes back with the auxiliary cord and carefully plugs it in his phone. Tweek watches with a rapture that could last for years if he wouldn't crush it tomorrow.
Craig scoots over and places the phone between them. Like a polite ‘let’s not touch and my phone is just a polite way to show that’. Tweek quickly glances at the name of the single playlist: a green heart between an astronaut and a star emoji. So different from the many ones Tweek has made. Craig probably thought a lot before bothering to make only one.
"What did you think of when you made it?"
Craig glances at him, looking tense with his height but Tweek might be a bit slouched and doesn’t help with that. He will miss it so much.
A song starts before he can answer. Tweek isn't even mad, it makes him feel like he got the last word - a pained but needed closure.