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It was cold out.
There was a heavy feeling in the air, electric, and everybody could feel it. The music was blaring from across the field, across multiple speakers connected god-knows-who's phone. It was loud, and you could barely make out the lyrics, but people screamed along with it anyway because, well, what else was there to do?
The grass was cold and damp on wet feet, and the sky was dark. Lights flashed from here and there, flashlights thrown on the ground and left behind. The field felt expansive. Like maybe it never stopped. They were all fine with that.
There was something about this -- being a teenager, being with everyone you knew but simultaneously would never really know, congregating in one place and feeling almost the same thing. It was melancholy. It was beautiful. It felt infinite, and maybe that was why it was something that they all held close to their hearts.
Tweek sniffled.
"I'm fucking c-cold, my dudes." He yelled over the music to the tiny group that they'd formed on the edge of the party -- Token, Clyde and Craig. Bebe and Wendy were there for a minute too, but they'd left to go dance. Kenny had popped up once and said something that was so slurred nobody could make sense of it, but oh well.
"Yeah, well it's your fuckin' fault for not bringing warm clothes." Craig said, but shrugged off his jacket as he said it and gently set it over Tweek's shoulders. Tweek couldn't be sure if it was endearing or slightly offensive, but he decided on endearing. Token rolled his eyes. "Well it was kinda warm earlier. Now it's just iced over." He said, and Clyde nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. Damn, if the weather could be like it was earlier all the time, I would be fucking thriving."
Craig rubbed his nose and stared off into the distance. If he looked far enough, it looked like things just abruptly stopped. The line of trees was dark. And he felt a pull to them -- he wanted to go where things weren't. It wasn't like the party wasn't fun -- well, it wasn't really, but he felt like it was necessary to go to them because one day there'd be significantly less parties and..that would be the day he'd die, probably. But oh well. He decidedly grabbed Tweek's hand and stared at him intensely. "Alright, let's go." He said, and Tweek's eyes widened. "U-uh, what?"
Clyde whooped and threw his arms up in the air, beer sloshing over the rim of the bottle. "Finally gonna fuck? I knew you two weren't just friends," He said, and Token rolled his eyes. "Fuck off, Clyde."
Craig stared a hole through what was probably Clyde's very small, naive soul and held up his middle finger. "No. But I'm tired. So bye." He tugged at Tweek's hands, and they began their trek to the forest. It looked like it would take a while, but they would get there, and knowing that was enough.
"So u-uh...where?" Tweek asked, and Craig sniffed. "The edge of the forest. The treeline."
Tweek coughed awkwardly and wiggled his fingers around, and Craig let go of his hand. "Yeah, b-but, why?" He asked, and Craig bit his lip. "Well..I'm not really sure. It just feels like it's the right place to be."
"I think I know what you mean." Tweek responded, and they stopped talking. The ground was damp, and Tweek wiggled his bare toes around and hoped he wouldn't get frostbite. He pulled Craig's jacket tighter over him, and cringed at the crinkly noise it made and prayed that Craig didn't find it amusing. Craig snickered. Shit.
The longer they walked, the more ambient the music became. And you could hear the chattering and screaming and singing from everyone better. It felt like something primal. Maybe it was, who knew, but something about it was fascinating to think about -- how long had this gone on for, in history? How far back did it go that the teens needed to, just in general, escape?
Even from each other?
Tweek felt something touch his fingertips, and realized it was Craig's hand bumping against his as they walked. They'd drifted slightly closer together, and he didn't really mind, but he wished he had the nerve to grab Craig's hand. Hold it really tight, so tight that he could potentially break a fragile bone but at least he wouldn't have to let go. He hated that feeling -- the feeling of knowing something would have to end eventually. Those long summer days, sitting by Craig, and wanting nothing more than to freeze time so they'd never have to say goodbye. All they did was sit in the silence, but it felt like the world to him. It was the world.
It was everything.
He sniffled again, but this time it wasn't because of the cold.
He knew Craig had plans in life -- grand plans, he'd heard all about them, something about being the first person to play piano in space or something like that. Anything along those lines -- he'd be the first, and Tweek could listen to him talk about anything. He'd always hold on tightly to the words; listen to how they sound coming out of Craig's mouth, parted lips, the way his teeth sometimes clicked when he said a particular word. But he knew these plans -- he knew them all so well, and it hurt to think about them because he wanted to be in them.
He wanted it so bad.
He wanted the domestic living -- he wanted to be able to sleep next to Craig, curled up, leeching his warmth. He wanted to come home to Craig and tell him funny things about his day, or maybe make coffee and sit on the couch staring out the window. He wanted all these things, but he knew Craig needed to go.
He could see it, whenever he saw Craig talk about the future. He had grand plans. He needed to get away from South Park, he needed to get away from his life, he needed to escape anything. That heavy wanderlust. That need to exist in so many different forms. He knew that if Craig really wanted that, Tweek couldn't hold him down. And it fucking hurt.
And maybe, if he thought about it a little too much, maybe he could do those things with Craig. But he knew realistically, he couldn't, he wasn't enough, and it made his chest ache.
They made it to the treeline.
It was dark -- like everything suddenly cut off, a glitch in the universe that everyone was wholly unaware of. He wondered what was past it. The infinity.
He could only see darkness when he thought about it.
Craig stuck his hand into the darkness and looked over at Tweek. "It's colder in here."
"D-do you want your jacket back?" He asked, and Craig's almost instantaneous reply of "No." made him startle. "O-oh..okay, thank you." He said, and cringed because what the fuck? Why would he say thank you? Curse being fuckin' polite. Jesus Christ.
"I like your hair." Craig said, and then he was running his hand through Tweek's hair. It was not expected. It was entirely uncharacteristic, and Tweek couldn't make any words come out of his mouth, so instead he just squeaked. Craig pulled his hand back and looked confused, like he didn't really know why he did that either. "Sorry."
"It's -- It's o-okay.."
There was a heavy silence again. It felt palpable. Tweek didn't know what to do, wasn't sure where to take it from here, but tonight felt static. Like he could do anything to make anything happen. That was one scary thing about existing; anything you did would have a lasting impact on your future, even if you weren't aware of it. He needed to do something. He could feel the energy coursing through him, and he needed to do something that would change everything.
He felt the chaos bubbling in his stomach. The wild spontaneity.
He pushed Craig against the tree and stared at him. Craig didn't really react, just flung his arms around Tweek's waist and stared at him with wide pupils. Neither of them said anything, just stared, and Tweek slowly leaned in and kissed Craig. It was gentle at first, just a soft peck, and he stayed there with his lips slowly hovering over Craig's for a moment. Craig's breath was ghosting over his face, and he shuddered. The second time, it was more intense. Their breathing was heavy, and Tweek tugged at Craig's lower lip with his teeth. He couldn't think straight. Couldn't think anything but, Craig.
He pulled back, tried to catch his breath.
"I'd like to adventure with you, sometime." Craig said, and Tweek was silent. The way Craig had said it -- so earnest, like a promise; it meant so much.
"So we s-should."