Categories > Cartoons > South Park > Learning to Swim - A Creek (Craig x Tweek) Fanfic

Chapter Seventeen - Blown Out of the Water

by CrimsonCrowCreek 0 reviews

Over the course of several years, our faves Tweek and Craig support each other as friends and as lovers, from grade school to college, Colorado to California, to go through a lot of challenges that...

Category: South Park - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Warnings: [V] [X] [R] [Y] - Published: 2022-04-27 - 5559 words - Complete

Blown Out of the Water (to completely ruin something or to defeat someone)
California, April 2015, Spring
The winter slowly dried out into a grey, dry, dusty, grubby spring. Craig felt Tweek slipping further and further away from him, seemingly exacerbated by that night he found him with Sam. Tweek hadn’t held his hand since they had walked through the warm Pasadena streets, their pathway lit by the flickering streetlights.
He saw Tweek becoming more and more withdrawn, and Craig begged him to let him help. But Tweek stubbornly insisted he was alright, he was fine, please leave me alone, Craig.
Tweek kept Craig at arms’ length for the most part, or something that felt beyond arms’ length. When that phrase came to mind, Craig imagined Tweek pressing the soles of his feet against Craig’s chest, using the strength of his whole body to keep Craig from getting any closer.
Sometimes Tweek would seem to have bouts of overwhelming guilt at his neglect of Craig. And then the ice he presented to Craig for the most part would be replaced with fire.
Craig would come home from work and be met with Tweek grabbing him as soon as he was through the door. Tweek would leap on Craig, lacing his legs around Craig’s waist and wrapping his arms tightly around Craig’s neck to get a tight hold on him. He would kiss Craig hard, and they would inevitably proceed to making wild, rough, sweaty love. It was rare for them to make it as far as the bedroom, and typically they would just collapse in the hallway, Tweek’s petite body grinding against Craig’s as he lay on top of him, Craig’s back pressed against the cold wooden floorboard and his hands twisted into Tweek’s hair, their legs wrought together as they moaned in unison.
It never lasted long. Craig would inevitably finish before Tweek did, uncomfortably pent up by the infrequency of Tweek’s attention. He couldn’t sustain the intensity of Tweek digging inside of him as he rubbed himself against Craig’s front. Craig didn’t think he could remember the last time he had made Tweek come, though. As soon as Craig was finished Tweek would give him a swift, hard kiss on the lips before climbing off and darting away.
Craig couldn’t believe how much he missed the eye contact.
He painfully missed the intimacy they had once enjoyed together.
He remembered the way they used to make love.
The sunny weekend afternoons, where they would spend lazy hours lying on top of the bedclothes, making each other come over and over again, giving each other mischievous grins as they lay in each other arms.
The steamy sessions that would arise from Tweek cheekily following Craig into his post-work shower and then washing him all over.
The mornings where Tweek would wake before the alarm and then proceed to wake Craig by slipping underneath the sheets.
The snowy nights in Colorado during Tweek’s Senior year of high school, where Craig would sneak inside through Tweek’s bedroom window. They would make silent, gentle love on the floor, their eyes locked on each other, their pupils huge.
Tweek’s new, impersonal way of sleeping with Craig was vaguely reminiscent of their lovemaking after they got back together before the beginning of Tweek’s senior year of high school. At first they had been awkward with each other and Craig had been overwhelmingly gentle with Tweek, as if frightened he might break him. But after a couple of months of finding their security with each other again, their lovemaking became passionate again. Now that Craig had a trailer, parked at the other end of his boss’ property to where she slept, they didn’t have to be silent anymore. Craig remembered the white-hot electricity that had burned between them in his trailer and how he used to be able to make Tweek cry out his name, gripping the backs of his knees as Craig held onto him from behind.
It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the primal intensity of Tweek passionately topping him now. But the difference was that in the trailer they would cuddle up afterwards, Tweek nestled into Craig’s chest, tucked under his arm. Tweek would lace his fingers through Craig’s, his skin as soft as his loving voice. He would stroke the fine black hairs on Craig’s tanned forearms and kiss the warm veins inside Craig’s wrists as they lay together in his narrow bed, Tweek half on top of Craig so they could both fit.
Now he wouldn’t even look Craig in the eye.

California, June 2015, Summer
Craig lay in bed, feeling a faint chill in the night air despite the whispered promise from the sticky night air of the approach of another long hot summer. When they first moved to California, he and Tweek had often felt too warm in bed during the sticky summer months, their body heat radiating and making them sweat. During the oppressive heat of August they would put the covers in the freezer to cool them down and sigh at the cool relief as they climbed into bed. Now that Tweek wasn’t here, Craig missed the sweaty discomfort.
Earlier that week they had briefly lain on the mattress together, perhaps the first time they had made it to the bed during sex that year. Craig knew Tweek had continued to lose weight over the previous months, his clothes getting baggier and baggier on him as he slipped back out of the healthy range he had entered. It had been alarming for Craig to finally get to see how thin Tweek had truly gotten. Craig had traced Tweek’s jutting ribs and protruding hip bones with his eyes, his heart thudding in concern.
Earlier that day had been Tweek’s final exam of the spring term. Craig had sworn to himself that once that was out of the way, he would talk to Tweek. Tweek was taking summer term papers, but they wouldn’t start for a couple of weeks.
You have to do something.
The clock chimed in the hallway, filling the empty house and signalling 2am. Craig shivered and drew his knees to his chest, pulling the covers more securely around himself. Surely Tweek would be home soon.
By the time the clock chimed 3am, Craig had had enough. He didn’t know what the hell Tweek was playing at, but he was tired of waiting for him, worried that Tweek had been hit by a bus or something. Sure it was another late night of studying, Tweek had told him that, but it was unusual for Tweek to be home after midnight when he said he would be home that night and hadn’t then texted Craig to say actually he’d stay overnight at the Faculty. This was ridiculous.
He sat up in bed and picked up his phone from the bedside table. Dialling Tweek’s number, which he had known by heart for years, Craig twisted his fingers through the sheets to anchor himself as his heart thumped.
Unsurprisingly, it went to voicemail, but, unusually, not before ringing several times. Craig sighed as he heard Tweek’s recorded voice. Hey, you’ve reached Tweek Tweak. Sorry I’m not answering, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you. If it’s urgent, try ringing my boyfriend Craig... Craig listened to Tweek rattling off his own phone number before hanging up without saying anything.
You didn’t need a key card to get into the building where Tweek’s office was. You only needed to know the access code. Craig could still remember it from when Tweek had taken him into the office the year before.
For months, Craig had been sorely tempted to use that to show up and see if Tweek was ok. Part of him wanted to insist that Tweek come home with him, even get some kind of treatment for the eating disorder he had quietly nursed for years but which had recently spun out of control.
Craig’s urge to do any of this had been accompanied by a sick, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to ask himself why he was tempted to check up on Tweek. After all, he loved Tweek. They had been as close as two people could be for years and years. They had been through so much together. They were both committed to building a life together, which Tweek would frequently reassure Craig of, even now on the increasingly rare occasions that they saw each other. Craig didn’t like to analyse whether Tweek sounded genuine when he said this. Nor did he want to ask himself honestly whether he trusted Tweek anymore.
But it was after 3am. Tweek should have been home hours ago. Craig’s stomach contorted as his mind went to its darkest places and he thought of the worst possible scenarios.
“Fuck you, Tweek,” he muttered, fists clenched with anxiety. “You did this.”
He threw off the covers, hating himself for betraying Tweek, hating Tweek for not being stronger somehow, hating himself for feeling that way.
He needs help.
You need to help.
No matter what, you need to help him. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know how. It doesn’t matter than you’re scared of it getting worse.
It doesn’t matter if he hates you after. You can’t just watch him get worse like this.
Suddenly he remembered Tweek’s parents’ funeral.
That could be him. That could be him that you’re burying. That could be him sooner than you want to admit.
For a second he thought he might vomit on the mattress.
He took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly as he mentally steeled himself.
Ok. I’m not taking no for an answer this time. I’m not taking his excuses. I’m not being afraid. We’re fixing this, somehow.
Tweek’s exhausted, emaciated face swam in his mind as he quickly dressed, grabbed his keys, and hurried out the front door.
Until recently, Tweek had been the fast runner. Craig’s adolescent lankiness had been replaced by strong muscle since working as a mechanic, and despite always having been physically fit he had strength and stamina rather than speed. But like Tweek, he’d lost a lot of weight recently due to his anxiety butchering his appetite. He’d become wiry.
Craig’s sneakers slapped on the pavement as he sprinted towards Caltech, the sound filling the empty streets. His heart pounded in his ears and his breath came in shuddering gasps as he spurted on.
The Faculty of Physics building was taller than most of the buildings on campus and well lit, so Craig could see its vague illumination from a few blocks away. He hurtled toward the front doors, his mind racing with all the terrible things that could happen to Tweek soon if he didn’t actually manage to do something.
He stabbed the code into the security grid and hurried through the glass doors as they opened. He panted as he pressed the elevator button to the tutor’s office floor. As the doors opened, he could hear a male voice groaning. Less distinctly, he could hear another male voice making a whimpering noise, as if in pain. With a thrill of horror that punched him in the gut, he realised it was Tweek. He sprinted down the hallway towards the office, his heart in his mouth.
He fumbled with the door handle and almost fell through the door as he burst inside. He heard a sharp cry from Tweek as he straightened up and whirled around to the source of the noise.
Craig squinted in the dim light. His expression grew dark as his eyes adjusted and he took in the scene before him.
In the corner of the office to the right of the door Tweek was bent over the nearest desk, his jeans and his boxers around his ankles. Sam was pressing into Tweek from behind and gripping his bony hips hard, also naked from the waist down. Sam’s expression grew smug as he slowly turned to look at Craig with a wry smile. Tweek looked up at the source of the noise and saw Craig.
Their eyes met, and just like they had at Tweek’s junior class award ceremony, they both felt the rest of the room disappear around them, Tweek’s brain briefly failing to register the pain Sam was putting him in.
Craig watched Tweek’s eyes instantly fill with tears as he began to choke out to him. ‘Craig, I –‘
Sam coldly cut him off, viciously gripping the tufts of hair that has started to grow back, like fragile new baby saplings after a devastating forest fire. ‘Shut up, Tweek. You want me to hurt you?’
Craig knew he would have all the time in the world to unpack this later. He could work through whatever he needed to work through with Tweek, and with himself. But Craig knew Tweek far too well to think he was doing this because he wanted to. Primal fury rose in his throat as he registered the fear and pain on Tweek’s face.
Am I just deluding myself?
No. You’re not.
He felt himself being scoured by Sam’s stare as Sam looked him up and down, Tweek softly crying in the terrible silence.
Craig stared back as he spoke, his voice soft but with a restrained fury. “Let him go, Sam.”
Sam stared at Craig as if Craig were unbelievably stupid. He smirked as he answered.
“He’s got a tight little asshole, hasn’t he, Craig? It’s not fair of you to expect to keep him all to yourself. And, y’know. It’s cute that you think he doesn’t want this.”
Craig stood utterly motionless for seconds that felt like an eternity. He felt like water was rushing in his ears. He needed to help Tweek, and help him now - he knew that. But he had no idea how Sam would react if he approached. Like with Tweek’s anorexia, Craig was desperate to save him but had no idea how he could without making it worse.
The agony on Tweek’s face triggered something primal in Craig and he felt all care evaporate. He felt his feet begin to close the gap. He could have been watching it from outside himself.
Sam sharply pulled Tweek’s head back further by his hair, eliciting another involuntary little gasp of renewed pain from Tweek as Sam spoke.
“You lay a goddamn hand on me and I’ll sue you for all you’ve got. Not that you have anything to begin with, you dumb fucking white trash piece of shit. You’re nothing, Craig.”
Craig watched as Sam roughly let go of Tweek’s head, his head flopping forward, risking damage to the tendons in his neck.
“I don’t give a fuck what you do, Sam. You can’t hurt me.”
Sam dug his fingers even deeper into Tweek’s bony hips than he had before, his sharp knuckles whitening, no doubt leaving bruises that Craig would be his witness to.
“No, maybe not. But I can hurt Tweek. And I know you don’t want that.”
Tweek sobbed. “Sam, please -”
Craig watched in silence, wincing in terror as Sam glared down at Tweek. He might have imagined it, but he thought he saw Sam slowly relenting his vice grip on Tweek.
After what felt like an eternity, Sam finally spoke. “Oh for fuuuck sake. Fine. I’ll let you go. Christ.
With a violent motion that caused Tweek to cry out, Sam wrenched himself out of Tweek and dropped him onto the table. He pulled up his pants and shook his head in apparent disgust.
“The mood’s been wrecked anyway. You really are pathetic, Tweek, you know that? Needing your dumb fucking dirty mechanic boyfriend to come in here.”
Glaring at Craig, he grabbed his bag and started toward the door.
“Time to go and take a long shower, make sure I wash off such a dirty little whore and whatever the white trash left on it.”
He turned back to look at Tweek as he lay discarded over the table and sneered in disgust.
“Just in case it wasn’t clear, Tweek? We’re done here. I’m not risking my neck for you if you can’t keep your damn mouth shut.”
Tweek winced again as the door slammed. He felt rather than saw Craig standing there as he lay on the table, utterly shrouded in shame.
His vision was splintered with tears as he slowly raised his head. Tweek witnessed all of the fight escape Craig, tried to fight his way to his feet. His body had wasted away to almost nothing and he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak as the darkest thoughts raced through his brain.
Maybe this is it.
The windows open, I know that.
We’re on the ninth floor up here.
If I landed on my head…
A thousand images of his broken body lying crumpled on the concrete ground beneath ran through his mind.
Ten thousand images of Craig kneeling over his lifeless form followed them.
He shook his head violently to banish the horrifying intrusive thoughts.
No. You can’t do that to him.
You owe him so much better than that.
It took everything he had left as Tweek reached down to grab his jeans, wincing at the sharp pain, moving with everything he had left as he forced himself to stand and look up at Craig.
“Oh, Craig,” he choked. “Craig. I’m so so so sorry. Craig. I love you. I’m sorry.”
Craig’s lips slowly parted as if to speak as Tweek stared up into his face, revealing the still-noticeable repairs on what had been the prominent chip in his front teeth that his father had given him years previously. Tweek had no idea how long Craig surveyed him for. Finally, a single tear fell down his face as Craig broke eye contact and gently reached out to carefully place his hand on Tweek’s shoulder.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” he asked gently.
Tweek shook his head, dropping his gaze to Craig’s feet. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
Tweek nodded without moving his eyes. “Yes.”
“Do we – do we need to go to the police station?”
Tweek looked up then and stared at Craig again, his face resolute. “There’s no point.”
“But it only just -”
“Craig. Please. Trust me. There’s no point. I – I can’t. I just can’t.”
Craig paused. Don’t fight him on this. Listen to him.
He gently squeezed Tweek’s shoulder. He wanted to embrace Tweek but didn’t want to risk hurting him physically or pushing him into a panic attack. Tweek often felt overwhelmed at any kind of confinement. He always had.
Instead, Craig spoke softly.
“I love you, Tweek.”
Tweek looked up, his eyes bigger than Craig had ever seen them. He didn’t verbally respond to Craig, but he didn’t have to.
“Come on. Let’s get you home. Ok?”
Looking back, Tweek had no recollection of the remaining hour or so before dawn began to break. He had vague memories of Craig gently taking him downstairs, out of the building and into their car where Tweek had left it parked in one of the staff lots, of the streetlights as Craig drove him home, of his head throbbing and the wounds on his body stinging, of hearing someone ceaselessly crying and then realising it was him.
But when he looked back later, all he could remember in focus was Craig’s face swimming in his mind as he had walked in and seen Sam inside of Tweek, his expression bewildered, twisted, desolate.
He continued to cry as Craig parked outside the home they had built together. Tweek felt his feet slowly carrying him to the front door, Craig’s arm tightly around Tweek for support as he turned his key in the lock. The sun was just beginning to rise over Pasadena. Inside the house was dark, silent, and still.
Craig gently steered Tweek into their bedroom and began to speak, but Tweek sharply shook his head. He disengaged himself from Craig’s arm, his movements stilted, robotic, erratic. He staggered over to sit on the edge of their bed and choked out a request.
“Sorry, Craig. Could you, just – could you give me a minute? Please?”
Craig stared at Tweek for a few moments, at a loss of what to do. Slowly he found himself nodding. “I – yeah. Of course. I’ll put the kettle on.” His voice sounded overly and inappropriately cheerful, oddly formal to him, and unlike his own. Out of the corner of his eye Craig saw Tweek trembling. It took everything he had not to scoop Tweek up with the bedcovers and hold him tightly. Craig ground his teeth together, blinking back tears.
He could feel Tweek’s eyes following him as he turned and left the room, padding towards the kitchen. He let the tears come as soon as Tweek couldn’t see them, his face crumpling. He filled the old steel kettle from the rusty kitchen tap, flicked it on, and threw a couple of earl grey tea bags into two of the mugs left on the draining board. All he wanted to do was to go back and look after Tweek, but he didn’t want to overwhelm him and make it worse. His resolve cracked as soon as he heard a weak sob from the bedroom, and he hurried back through to Tweek.
Craig found Tweek curled in the foetal position on Craig’s side of the bed, wrapped in the bedclothes. There was a wet patch covering half of Craig’s pillow, and Tweek’s face was swollen from crying. Craig stood in the doorway, for a split second remembering his father standing in the doorway of his old bedroom all those years ago. That thought, and all others, flew from his mind as soon as Tweek looked at him.
Craig slowly walked towards the bed and sat cross legged on the floor, looking up at Tweek. He remembered grade school, when he’d sat next to Tweek like this, their knees bumping together. Tweek let out a strangled sob that stabbed Craig through the heart.
“Tweek” Craig whispered. He timidly began to reach out his hand to Tweek, as if frightened of being bitten.
He heard Tweek whimper. “Craig -”
“Tweek, I know you’re hurting. I want to do everything I can to fix everything that’s hurting you. But I just – I have to ask. I have to know. It really looked to me like you didn’t want that with Sam. But, am I wrong? Please, just tell me the truth.”
Tweek didn’t answer. In the office Craig had thought Tweek couldn’t possibly look more broken and ashamed, but in that moment, he realised he was wrong as Tweek’s face passed unprecedented depths of misery. Craig had to look away.
The silence was seemingly endless, deafening, broken only by the dull click of the kettle. Craig suddenly felt the urge to vomit. He gently removed his hands from Tweek’s and stood up, ignoring Tweek’s desperate, tear-drenched gaze as it penetrated him.
“Craig -”
Tweek grabbed at Craig’s arm, pleading with him as he tried to walk away.
“Craig, please. I’m sorry. I love you. I love you so Goddamned much. I’m so sorry.”
The brown eyes met the green as Craig pulled his arm away, a crease between his eyes and his lip trembling.
“This is a lot to take in. I need a minute, Tweek.” He stumbled to his feet, not making eye contact. “I need to – tea.”
You were wrong about this, you idiot. Of course you were wrong.
You really are stupid. Sam was right.
No wonder Tweek wanted to sleep with him.
As soon as he was in the kitchen, he shut the door behind him and sat at the table, staring out the window without seeing anything of the world outside.
He’s sick. He’s really sick. He needs serious help for his brain.
Yes, he is. And yes, he does. But at some point, you need to stop enabling this behaviour.
You need to stop letting him treat you like this.
Craig wasn’t ready for this. He didn't know if he'd ever be ready for this.
He knew he needed to make himself face this reality and feel it, to try and process this as soon as he could so he could go back and face Tweek, to try and figure out what the fuck he was going to do now.
He allowed all of the good memories he had of Tweek stored in his mind to come to the surface, even though they threatened to drag him under.
Tweek aged eight, holding Craig’s hand for the first time when they had to line up in pairs for Assembly.
Tweek aged ten, smiling at Craig across their narrow school desks.
Tweek aged twelve, lying next to Craig at one of Clyde’s sleepovers.
Tweek aged fourteen, tipsy on Jack Daniel’s, his arm tightly secured around Craig’s waist.
Tweek aged fifteen, offering Craig a bite of his PB and J sandwich and his face lighting up with joy when Craig accepted it.
Tweek aged sixteen, holding Craig as they stood in the snow, stroking his hair and kissing away his tears.
Tweek aged eighteen, when they had found the apartment they had lived in ever since, his face elated as he stuck his favourite photos of Craig all over the fridge and hung Craig’s ancient Red Racer poster on the back of the bedroom door to make Craig laugh. Red Racer is creepily watching us fuck, Craig. How do you feel about that?
Eventually Craig had to stop. It hurt too much.
Because he knew he shouldn’t be letting himself remember a time when Tweek had still loved Craig, or seemed to have loved him. Craig knew he should be focusing all of his energy on hating Tweek.
He was going to stay resolute when he faced Tweek, as cold and as hard as stone.
Deep down he knew that he was letting himself feel these memories of Tweek because he needed them. He would need them during the lonely nights ahead when sleep wouldn’t come to him.
He knew why he was hurting himself like this, even if that was all he knew.
He didn’t know how he was ever going to say goodbye to Tweek.
He didn’t know how he was ever going to move on.
But Craig knew that he had to let go.
He put his head in his hands as the sunlight began to filter through the window.

Tweek entered the kitchen so quietly that Craig didn’t hear him. He came around to the edge of the table to face Craig and silently knelt before him on the ancient lino that was still grimy no matter how many times they scrubbed it, hands clasped in his lap.
Craig was startled to see Tweek at his feet, and had no idea what to make of it. He hadn’t expected that Tweek would ever bother with him again. He had no reason to expect that. It wasn’t part of Craig’s plan for Tweek to seek him first.
Their eyes met and for a long time they simply looked at each other, Craig biting the insides of his mouth to stop his face from betraying him. Tears were flowing freely from Tweek’s swollen eyes as he opened his palms to show Craig what he held between them.
His breath caught in his throat and the room began to spin as Craig stared at the bag of pills that Tweek held in his hand.
Craig shook his head, at a loss. “Tweek? What – what is that?”
Tweek took a deep, shuddering breath but didn’t speak.
Craig reached out to touch Tweek’s arm. “Honey? I need you to tell me what that is.”
“Tweek -”
“I’m sorry, Craig. I’m so sorry. I’ve fucked up so much. I -”
His blood pumping in his ears, Craig shook his head and reached out to take the packet of pills. Tweek started to protest and reach for them back, but Craig grabbed Tweek’s wrist to stop him, firmly but without hurting him. He took the drugs from Tweek and strode through the flat, taking them to the bathroom to flush them. He popped the remaining few pills out of the blister pack and watched them swirl down the drain.
Craig came back to the kitchen to find Tweek still kneeling where he had been on the stained lino tiles, hugging his arms around himself.
“Tweek. How long has this been going on. Tell me.”
Tweek’s face flushed. His lip trembled as he stared at the floor and mumbled something.
“Since I was five.”
Craig felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. He scrambled to kneel down in front of Tweek and took hold of his hands. Tweek met Craig’s eyes and squeezed his hands.
“My parents had - had been giving it to me in their coffee. I had no idea until after we got back from the funeral.”
“But, you -”
“The police told me when we got back to Pasadena. They wanted me to get tested.”
“Tweek -”
“I couldn’t do it, Craig!” Tweek’s voice wavered as he spoke, sobs squeezing his throat. “I didn’t want to fuck up your life any more than I already have! I didn’t want to put us through all that shit! And I thought I could handle it by myself. I thought I could quit it. But I couldn’t. If I’d known I’d end up this fucking weak, this fucking desperate, getting to the point where I was letting Sam do these horrible things, letting it fuck me up til I couldn’t eat a damn thing and I got like this - I would have gotten help as soon as I knew. I don’t know how I could have, but I would.
He dropped Craig’s hands and buried his face in his hands, his voice muffled as he continued.
“I’m fucking addicted, Craig. That’s why I was letting Sam fuck me. He was giving it to me, and he threatened to cut me off if I didn’t let him. He just kept wanting more and more from me. And he knew he could get it from me because I’m fucking pathetic. He knew I needed more and more from him. He knew I was so stupid that I would do it to keep my scholarship. He knew I was trying everything I could to justify it to myself, that I wouldn’t burden you with any more debt.”
“Tweek, I – I don’t care about that.”
Tweek looked up, his eyes sharp despite the tears spilling over the brim.
“But you should, Craig. We’ve got nothing. If we ever want to have a decent life together, I need to be able to get a good job. I won’t do that if I lose a scholarship. Nobody cares what I went through for that to happen.”
“We already have a great life. Well, I thought we did.”
“I just wanted you to feel secure after being so insecure.”
Craig laughed more harshly than he meant to. “I get that, Tweek. But I don’t feel secure at all, now. How could I?”
Tweek reached for his hands, his tone desperate. “I was always going to get clean. I just needed to finish college first. But I guess it got out of hand. And now I’ve fucked you over because of it. I’ve fucked up so badly that it won’t be ok again. You need to find someone that deserves you, Craig. Because you deserve to be happy. You deserve everything. You always have. Even when you didn’t think so. You always fucking have.”
Craig pulled his hands away. He shook his head softly as he got to his feet.
“I get that you’re really sick, Tweek. I do. But, this is huge. Ok? It’s huge. I need some time. I – I’m going to go for a walk. I need to clear my head.”
He wouldn’t meet Tweek’s eyes as he left the room. Tweek felt himself rocking back and forth as the kitchen door closed again, the front door following like an echo.
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