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The bottle passes between them — the liquid almost gone.
It was one of the only bottles he could get his hands on — he had to punch someone out for it, but as he sits here, on the edge of extinction and dust, he knows the black eye was entirely worth it.
The bottle was enough for them both, luckily — enough to distinguish any negative emotions and feelings toward anything. All he feels is love — love for the boy next to him and the immense amount of certainty that he rather be with him than anyone else in the entire world.
His vision is slightly blurry — his blood blurring with alcohol and the weed he bought off Kenny months ago. His eyes are lidded — he thinks he could go to sleep and it would all be over, but he does not want to spend his final moments sleeping — he wants to sit here with Tweek. He wants to sit here and feel the tickle of his hair against his neck and the tremor of his leg against his own.
Tweek is surprisingly quiet for the earth burning to the ground — perhaps because all this time he was right; the president nuked, and they nuked back, and everyone is going to be dead by tomorrow. It’s the end and it’s for certain; they have been given the answers to life’s one biggest question: when are they going to die? Tonight.
When he first found out — he had gone through all the things he will never get to do with his boyfriend in his head; getting engaged, getting married, adopting children, graduating college . Not in that order, exactly.
It was sad — he was sad, but as he sits here with Tweek, with the person he wants to spend his last final moments with — the person he would more than enjoy to spend eternity with — he just feels content.
It might be the alcohol. It might be the weed. It might still be denial that any of this is real, but he just feels… certain — certain that he is going to die and certain that Tweek is the definite love of his life — will love him through life and into death.
People have set fires — have created riots — have gone absolutely crazy, but he has Tweek. He has Tweek and he will until the end of his life. He has Tweek by his side, and sure, it’s terrifying — but Tweek’s hand is in his; he lays here with him in silence because there is really nothing left to say.
There is one last sip in the bottle. He tells Tweek to take it, but he shakes his head. He says no. Craig says yes. He says no, again. They smile at each other. Both are too stubborn to take the last sip. Tweek laughs and pours out the bottle, his laughter slowly turning into a smile and then a soft sob.
He pulls him into him, beginning to cry himself — more so for Tweek than himself. He cannot offer any logical explanation — cannot provide the promise of everything being okay, not that those tactics ever worked anyways with Tweek. All his logical explanations and reasonings never meant anything to the love of his life. No, instead, Tweek just wanted to be heard — listened to. Craig learned that a long time ago about Tweek. It has been hard not to problem - solve for Tweek all these years — all he ever wants is him to be happy — but maybe it was all preparing him for this.
He holds him to his chest, the world beginning to burn around them as the atom bombs lock in. The world begins to fade. He hears Tweek say I love you, but he is not sure it’s real.
He sees Tweek — sees the moment they met, the moment they fell in love — sees him winning their favorite video game, smile on his face, and joy in his heart. He sees him drinking his coffee — looking at him with soft, dilated eyes, whispering I love you.