Ok, I realize that this story is probably not all that good, but I'm trying here so please bare with me ;; Criticism is highly appreciated. Reviews are loved.

I would never say that Tweek and I were friends. More like casual acquaintances who happened to hang out with each other from time to time. He was actually more Clyde's friend. I don't think that he and I ever really said more than five or six words to each other at a time. Not since we were eight, anyway. After that fight, we found out what Cartman, Marsh, and Broflofski had been up too, made up, (well, awkward apologies count, anyway) and pretty much went our separate ways. Just like before the fight, we didn't even give each other a passing glance until he became all buddy buddy with Clyde.

So, that in mind, it's completely understandable that I was surprised and more than slightly irritated when he showed up at my house at eleven o'clock at night, pounding franticly on my door. I swear he was hitting the damn thing hard enough to leave a dent.

"Tweek? God damnit, do you have any idea what time it is?" I demanded after yanking open the door and gawking at him for a few silent moments. He was panting, out of breath. His face was flushed and sweaty and he seemed to be tweaking more than ever, if it was at all possible.

"S-sorry, Craig, but your house was- GAH!- t-the closest at the time, so-"

"Oh joy." I cut him off, a bit impatiently. The nights in South Park'll freeze your balls off (if you've got 'um) and there was a breeze blowing right in through my door. Not fun when you're in nothing but pajama pants. "Look, either come in or stay outside, either way, I'm closing the door." I snapped. I expected him to flinch away, or scream about there being to much pressure to choose, since that was what he usually did when faced with a decision. This time, however, he surprised me again by immediately leaping- I fuck with you not- LEAPING past me, through the doorway and into my house without so much as a hesitation.

Closing the door, I whirled on him, thanking my lucky stars that my sister was over at a friends house and my parents were out of town. I didn't want to have to deal with both the wicked bitch of the West or my mom and dad who, incidentally, hate being woke before they have to be…

Kinda like me.

I opened my mouth to demand what the hell he was doing knocking on people's doors at this hour, when normal people were in bed, but he cut me off before I could say anything.

"Oh God, Craig, you've got to help me! I think someone's been following me!" His voice started out as his usual strained shout but gradually faded into a high pitched whisper. I arched an eyebrow and folded my arms across my chest.

"You woke me up at eleven-something on a school night to tell me that you're being paranoid again?" I asked a little harshly. But hey, can you blame me? I had been having a pretty good dream before that little fucker had woke me.

"Nononononononon!" He rushed out franticly, his right eye twitching faster than usual, as if trying to keep up with his onslaught of denials. "GAH! I'm serious Craig!" He squealed, waving his arms. "Some guys have been following me for the past three or four days! I know it! Every time I turn around, there they are!" He looked at me with wide, twitching eyes, as if expecting me to gasp and immediately rush to the phone and call the cops….or rush outside and take care of his 'stalkers.'

"Tweek." I said calmly. "This is South Park. We have one main street that everyone uses. There are tons of back roads, yes, but if you want to go anywhere, you have to stick to the street. Everyone knows this. If there are strangers in town, they're probably not following you, they're probably shopping."

"But! But!" He yelped, looking like he was about to freak out because I didn't believe him. I was actually starting to get slightly worried. As far as I knew, he never got this way when Clyde told him that Underpants Gnomes didn't exist. "Every morning! They're outside my house, just across the street, watching! Waiting!……OH SWEET JESUS," He squealed suddenly, "they're going to kill me! You have to help me!" He lunged at me and grabbed my arms. His hands were freezing and he was shaking like a leaf, but his grip was surprisingly strong for someone who looked so small and fragile.

"Ow! Tweek! Let go!" I snapped trying to pry his fingers off of me (and his nails out of my skin.) Much to my relief, he immediately did as I told him, letting me go and backing up a few paces.

"Oh God! Sorry! I'm sorry Craig!" he yelped, looking completely lost. I sighed to myself in annoyance as I rubbed the crescent moon indents in my forearms.

"It's ok. Look, Tweek, it's probably just your imagination." I told him. "I mean, you live above and behind a coffee shop! On Main street, no less! They're probably just some of your dad's customers." He frowned up at me, his eyebrows forming a small v in the center of his forehead.

"But Craig-" He started, his tone pleading. I sighed. I really had no idea how to handle the kid. I hardly knew anything about him. I knew his face, his name, that he had a serious addiction to coffee and one hell of a right hook, but that was about it.

"Look, Tweek, I can't help you. Go ask Clyde. He's like, your best friend, right?" I half growled, rubbing the sides of my head. I always thought that it was a cliché thing to do when ever you feel a headache coming on, but surprisingly, it helps, if only a little.

"W-well, yeah, I guess but-"

"So go ask him. I really have no idea what to tell you, Tweek." He flinched as I put my hand on his quivering back and began to push him to the door.

"But I can't! I came here because it was closest! If I go out there again, they'll grab me and torture me! Maybe even rape me!" He began working himself up, panicking. Turning to face me, he dug his heels into my carpet and grabbed my arm. He looked pleadingly up at me, his body's spastic jerking becoming worse with every passing second. "Then they'll torture me and kill me! Please Craig! Don't make me go out there! I CAN'T GO OUT THERE!" He was literally screaming now, and I wondered how long it would be before my neighbors called officer Barbrady down to arrest us for disturbing the peace.

"TWEEK!" I shouted back at him, my temper slipping out of my control more and more with each passing moment. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" and then I did the only thing my frustrated, angry mind would let me; I punched him.

I honestly didn't even realize what I had done until he was seated on the floor holding his jaw, staring up at me with one of the most pathetic expressions I have ever seen on anyone. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down.

"Sorry." I said, my voice cold. "Look, Tweek, you're paranoid and all of that coffee you drink probably doesn't help stuff. You hallucinate and you blow things way out of proportion. I honestly don't know what to do with you, but you're panicking over nothing. We live in South Park dude. Why would anyone want to stalk and kidnap you anyway? You'd probably drive them crazy." I glared down at him. "Now, I'm going back to bed. Go bother Clyde with your story. He'll probably humor you." I stepped around him and opened the door, motioning him out. He stood, shaking and wordless for the first time since entering my house. He walked to the door, but paused right inside it and peered nervously out into the dark.

"Ah! Er- c-could you -ah- c-c-coulde you walk me there, Craig?" He asked hopefully, peering up at me through a clump of tangled blond hair he was nervously tugging on. I sighed.

"No Tweek. Look." I stepped up behind him, grabbed his chin and directed his gaze out the door and on to the empty street. "No one is there, and the entire road is light up with street lights, see?" Still shaking like mad, me nodded as best as my hand would let him. I released my hold on him and stepped back.

"Se nothing to freak out about. If you're afraid of the dark, just tell me, but don't go making up stories. I'm not going to hold you hand." He started to protest, something about not being afraid of the dark, so much as what was in the dark, and that he was NOT making it up! But I ignored him and pushed him out the door.

"Craig! Please! The red headed guy'll get me!" he squeaked before I could close the door. I rolled my eyes and sighed.

"great, he has a hair color now?" I grumbled. Tweek nodded furiously, and for a moment I was afraid that his head was about to roll off.

"They've always had hair colors, all three of them." He told me in a tone that implied that I should have known this already. I felt my annoyance giving way to my temper once again. "One is a read head, one had short-ish black hair and the other is bald." he paused for a moment, looking around wildly, as if he thought that they would suddenly pop out of the bushes and attack him. "The bald dude has this weird tattoo on his left arm." He added, making a jerky motion with his own left arm as if for emphasis.

"I…see. And do they all wear long black trench coats, black glasses and work with the aliens and underpants gnomes?" I asked snidely. He tilted his head to one side, looking confused.

"N-no, they wear t-shirts and jeans." He had to stop for a moment as his head jerked to one side rather violently. "And the aliens and gnomes don't work together. I don't even think they know each other. The gnomes work for Santa Clause."

There was a very silent pause for a moment, filled only with the occasional soft grunt from him as a particularly bad wave of tweaks hit him.

"Santa Clause." I said after a moment. He nodded. Ok, this kid was even more fucked up than I had thought. "Good night Tweek." I muttered, shutting the door in his face and locking it.

"OH GOD! NO WAIT! CRAIG! PLEASE! OPEN UP! OH SWEET JESUS! I'M GOING TO DIE! CRAIG! CRAIG! PLEASE! DON'T DO THIS!" I winced and plugged my fingers into my ears, hoeing to muffle the sounds of him scratching and beating franticly at my door, twisting the knob every so often. I frowned to myself, starting to feel guilty. It wasn't his fault he was so paranoid, was it? It was all that damn coffee his parent gave him, right? I mean, he had always come across to me as very sweet and honest…

With a sigh, I unplugged my ears and turned to open the door again. Before I could, however, I heard him sob, the sound muffled by my door, and rush down my steps. I could hear his footsteps running down the sidewalk, the sound echoing in the cold, otherwise silent night. I sighed and headed back upstairs. He was headed in the direction of Clyde's house, and the two of us didn't really live that far apart. Not more than a couple of blocks, anyway.

Honestly, I didn't see how he dealt with Tweek. Just holding a conversation with him was like talking to a nervous little kid.

I crawled back in bed and pulled the covers up over me. I've never had any problems with sleeping, and even now that didn't prove much of a problem. But as soon as I slipped off, I began having nightmares, something to do with a bald man and tattoos. Whatever it was, though, it must have been some fucked up shit, because when I woke to the sound of the telephone screaming in my ears, I was covered in sweat and on the verge of hyperventilating.

Wiping my forehead quickly and shoving some of my air out of my face, I grabbed the annoying contraption by my bedside.

"'lo?" I asked groggily, having some trouble spitting the word out. My mouth and throat was dry and somewhat sticky. (it tasted disgusting, by the way.)

"Craig?" it was Clyde. I frowned at the receiver. He sounded kind of funny, and I don't mean in his usual stopped up way. He sounded nervous.

"Clyde?" I asked, for no reason other than I felt the need to restate the obvious. "What's up dude?"

"Craig, have you seen or heard from Tweek? His parents just called my house and said that he didn't come home last night."

Ok, so it wasn't that great, but please tell me what you thought of it anyway, even if you read it and went "Eh, It's alright, I guess…."

Btw, I also have a com for this pairing on Live Journal, if anyone wants to join. I'm trying to get it up on it's feet, and so therefore, I am shamelessly advertising it here.