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Craig came into consciousness slowly, the heaviness of deep sleep still weighing on him. After releasing a long exhale to dislodge the thick, stagnant air from his lungs, he brought his senses back to himself with a quick exhale, searching for whatever had caused him to wake up in the middle of the night. Quiet sobs and insistent thumping broke through the haze of Craig’s fatigue. The boy pushed himself up onto his elbows and squinted around the room until lethargic eyes fell upon a quivering mass pressed against the bedroom door.
“Tweek…?” The blonde let out a startled shriek muffled by his own arm held tightly over his face. The exclamation broke off into a choked sob. “Babe, why are you out of bed?” Craig forced himself away from the heated sanctuary of thick blankets and quilts stacked upon the bed into the chilly air of the bedroom. When he was met with no reply other than quiet whimpers from the other boy, Craig pushed himself to his feet and groggily shuffled over towards the door before lowering himself to a crouch in front of his shaking counterpart. Not reaching to touch him, not yet, Craig let out a reassuring hum, waiting for the other boy to speak. The blond whispered words insistently into his own skin. It was too muffled for Craig to hear and was punctuated with a loud whine.
The dark-haired boy rocked back on his heels for a moment before sliding himself incrementally closer. He murmured softly,
“Honey, I’m here, okay? Can I touch you? Is that okay?” Tweek gripped himself tighter but nodded sharply before giving off another full-bodied shudder. As Craig reached out for the other, Tweek wrenched his arm away from his face and slammed his fist back against the door by his head. Tweek let out a loud groan, wide hazel eyes darting everywhere in the room other than the boy sat before him, whose lips pinched slightly in concern. Craig hesitated, fingers hovering by Tweek’s arm, waiting to see if his limbs would strike out again. Tweek started to whine again through chattering teeth.
“Why is the door locked? Why why is it locked? Locked! OH GOD--” His fist pounded weakly at the door again, repeating his words in almost inaudible whimpers and moans. Craig gently circled Tweek’s wrist with his hand, smoothing his thumb over the obvious blues and purples of the veins lining the inside of his arm.
“I asked my parents to lock us in my room, remember? We agreed we’d lock the door. To keep you safe,” he reassured the boy. Tweek merely grunted, then choked again on his own bated breath.
“I don’t—don’t…! Why’s it feel so bad?” he croaked out. Craig’s brow furrowed as he raised his unengaged hand to slide his fingers across Tweek’s gaunt jawline, cupping his cheek.
“I’m sorry it feels so bad, Tweekers. We knew it was going to be bad going in, but you said you didn’t need to go to in-patient.”
“W-want… God, I hate how hate how bad I want. But I just want it to stop!” His yellowed teeth bit down harshly into the chapped skin of his lips, biting off more convulsive whimpers along with the skin. “I hate this. I hate how much… Hate me. How me for doing this…” His lip was bleeding. Craig swept his fingertips farther up Tweek’s palid complexion, over the imperfections of scarred, pitted skin to brush back the thick, greasy blonde locks from his forehead, sticky with perspiration. Craig cooed gently,
“You didn’t do this, babe. It’s not your fault.” Spindly fingers, shaky but insistent, gripped the raven-haired boy’s wrist, sliding his finger back down so Tweek could nuzzle his stricken face into his palm, wiping the blood from his mouth off onto Craig’s skin.
“Ngh--! Brought you-you into this… Should’ve.. l-let you… Let you… AGH!” His stubby nails dragged incrementally across the back of Craig’s hand. The noirette paid the slight scratching no mind and continued to stroke Tweek’s hair, working his fingertips deftly along his scalp.
“You didn’t make me do anything, babe. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. I want to be here.”
“B-but…!” The blonde’s breath hitched as he drew in rapid, short breaths, shrinking away from the slightly taller boy. “Awful! So a-awful!” He batted Craig’s hand out of his hair and wound his own fingers through his hair, pulling harshly.
“I know. This is awful.” Craig tried to reach out again in an attempt to stop the shaking boy, but was stopped by Tweek’s other arm swinging out haphazardardly. The blond’s eyes started to glaze over, the blue growing hazy with tears.
“I’m awful!” Craig clenched his jaw.
“No.”
“Y-yes!” Tears began to spill down Tweek’s sunken cheeks as he sobbed, “I’m awful! I’m awful because of w-what I want to-ACK!- d-do!” His fist flew downwards now, thumping against the hardwood sharply before his hand turned to claws and he began to paw repeatedly at the floor.
“It’s just the addiction, Tweek. Soon, you won’t crave that ever again,” Craig hastily assured him. His certitude did little to slow the desperate fingers scraping against the hardwood.
“N-not that! Gah! I-its… I don’t want to do this! I’m not strong enough! I’m awful! I don’t want to do this anymore! I don’t want to live with this! Why is the door locked? JESUS!” His voice was growing hoarse with his cries, and he settled back into the anguished moaning of a trapped animal.
“Honey. Tweek, please. Please don’t…” Craig’s usual monotone had gained an almost pleading lilt. “It’ll get better, I promise. Just a little bit longer, please. For me?” Craig’s voice wavered, and he shook his head to clear the uncertainty and desperation clouding it. His voice thick, he cursed quietly, “Fuck I’m so bad at this. I’m sorry. Please.” Tweek needed him to be strong still. The blond’s eyes became impossibly wider and wilder.
“OH GOD! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Craig. Sorry! I—hgn!!” He pitched himself forward towards the ground, Craig only just being able to catch him before he rammed his head into the ground.
“It’s okay, Tweekers. You’ll be okay. I love you so much.” With shaky hands, Craig resumed stroking blond scraggly hair, hoping this time he could successfully relieve a fraction of the tension Tweek held.
“Love… love… too.” He barely heard it, but Craig’s smile was grateful. He could tell it was winding down again. He pressed his lips to Tweek’s forehead.
“Do you think you can get back to the bed?” he asked in a quiet murmur.
“C-can’t… T-t-too—“ Tweek broke off into a quiet whine, but was promptly hushed by his ever attentive boyfriend. Craig could only think to continue winding his quaking fingers through sweat-soaked locks while he continued to reassure his ill boyfriend.
“It’s okay, babe. It’s okay…” The two held each other tight, each only wanting for the other to be able to stop shaking, so they could be well and sleep.
Laura Tucker unlocked her son’s door the next morning and peeked inside to find him and his boyfriend curled up on the floor at the foot of Craig’s bed embracing, sleeping peacefully. She smiled graciously; it had been too long since she last saw both boys getting enough sleep. She quietly shut the door to leave the two in peace and went about her own morning rituals, feeling more at ease than she had in weeks.