Chapter 9: Daybreak (SMUT WARNING)

                                    

                                          
“...And that's what Stan told me.”
                          

Craig held a hand to his mouth as Kyle finished his story.
                          
“He’s ‘not doing much better’? What does that mean?!” he cried.
                          
“I don't know either, but it's obviously not good,” Kyle sighed. “Poor Tweek…”
                          
“Damn…” muttered Kenny. 
                          
The three sat in mournful silence for some time, before Craig leaped up, throwing the blankets off of his legs in the process. 
                          
“Well, I'm not gonna stick around here trying to figure it out! I'm going to see him!” he announced.
                          
With that, he marched out of the room and soon took off running, out of the house and towards Tweek's.
                          
The two were once again silent, but Kenny soon broke it by saying, “We, uh...we are going after him, right?”
                          
“Oh, of course,” Kyle nonchalantly answered; they quickly sprung up and ran out as well. 
                          
Craig softly panted as he dashed through the suburban streets, the air filling his lungs and sending a stabbing cold through him with every breath. His chullo was nearly blown off his head by a strong wind, but he quickly grabbed at it, held it tightly onto his head, and continued his desperate run. 
                          
“Fuck, fuck, fucking shit, goddamnit!” he swore aloud, stopping to catch his breath and kick at a mound of snow. 
                          
The teen growled under his breath, but gasped quietly as he saw the snow scatter in the air and glimmer in the sun. Memories of the other day floated to the front of his thoughts- Tweek's overexcitedness when they saw each other at the end of the day, as if they had been apart for a long time; his sobbing after the end of Hamlet; his nightmare- and Craig realized how stupid he had been to not realize the signs of Tweek’s doubts. He kicked at the snow again and colorfully cursed aloud several more times, as Kyle and Kenny caught up to him, panting. 
                          
Tilting his head, Craig asked the two of them, “What are you doing?” 
                          
“We're...hah...following you, dumbass,” answered Kyle, still panting and slightly hunched over. 
                          
“Yeah, we're not just letting you run off to save your boyfriend without some help,” Kenny encouraged, a warm smile on his face despite his fatigue. “And I know you probably still hate Kyle and Stan, and maybe me, after the Peru thing…”
                          
Craig scoffed and found himself unable to hold back his amusement; after a few seconds of boisterous laughter, he took a deep breath of the freezing air and answered, “The fuckin’ Peru thing? Jesus, how dumb do ya have to be, McCormick? That was years ago- and besides, you guys just took care of me when I got beaten to a pulp and ran out into the freezing cold to help me. I may be an uncaring asshole, but I remember when people help me. You guys are asshats, but you're my asshats. And some stupid birthday money's not gonna change that.”
                          
“Of course he doesn't still hate us, you retard,” Kyle teased.
                          
“Yeah, yeah...shut up,” the hoodie-wearing boy mumbled and looked down shamefully. “Guess the writers were feelin’ sappy today…”
                          
Kyle tilted his head and asked “What?”, clearly confused.
                          
“Oh, uh, nothin’.’
                          
“Great, we're all the best of friends. Now let's go help Tweek!” cried Craig as he began sprinting down the street once again, and the other two teenagers followed.
                          
Tweek, meanwhile, sniffled and continued to cry, still curled up on his bed as Butters and Stripe futilely tried to comfort him. The door to the bedroom soon swung open again, and Stan stepped in, adjusting his poof-ball hat.