Chapter Text
…tick…tick…tick…
The background noise of a clock and the hustle of nurses and doctors and patients, the hurry and almost rustle and squeaking noise their rubber shoes on the tile floor was almost ear piercing, head ache inducing.
“ …DOCTOR … PLEASE REPORT TO THE PIT… “
Phones buzzing and ringing. God he wished they would shut up and give the boy, named Craig, a break, shit's already hard enough right now.
Craig couldn't sit still, his leg bouncing, his blue hoodie draped over that same leg. The smell of antiseptic and hand sanitizer was enough for his headache to get worse. Why was he so stupid? How could he possibly allow this one thing to happen? This is so stupid.
“ ..CODE BLUE ON THE FLOOR, I REPEAT, CODE BLUE IN THE PIT.. “
Craig perked up before looking over into the emergency room, all he could see was doctors and nurses swarming a bed, yelling and screaming from a mother and a father, their child dying from overdose, seizing in front of them, crying immensely audible. Craig froze, he couldn't see the parents, but he knew who they were, and he knew the kid in the bed.
“ Fuck, Tweek..why are you so fuckin' stupid..”
———————
A knock could be heard from upstairs in Craig's room. His room decorated in stars and NASA posters galore. The knocking was persistent, “TRICIA! GET THE FUCKIN’ DOOR!” He yelled from his bed. He had been playing a shirt form story game on his phone, and he couldn't put it down.
“ASSWIPE! ITS YOUR BOYFRIEND!!” Tricia yelled from the front door. Without thinking, the raven haired boy shot up out of his bed and ran down the stairs, practically falling down them, eventually reaching the front door. He had pretty much shoved his sister away before giving the visitor a hug. It was his boyfriend, Tweek.
“ACK! Don't do that, man..! I barely just got here..!” The blonde yelled quietly. Craig stood up straight and shot the quickest smile, the most awkward smile, before quickly returning to his usual blank, cold some might say, look. “Sorry, babe.” , He apologized before promptly grabbing the blonde's hand and rushing upstairs to his bedroom, closing the door behind himself.
The two would spend all afternoon together, talking, watching T.V., and taking a nap, huddled together. It was sweet, but soon came the time for Tweek to return to his home. Upon arrival it may appear like any home. Small, welcoming. But it lacked any sort of “welcoming”. To the twitchy blonde it was the home of a growing issue that no child should have to face. Ever since he could remember the 16 year old's parents had been feeding and making him drink beverages containing methamphetamines. They thought that maybe he could grow use to it, or maybe they wanted to control him somehow. Doctors had called cops and the parents were forced to stop hand feeding it to Tweek. But they never said anything about giving him the means of providing himself with the strong drug.
As Tweek stepped into his small bedroom, he ran over to his nightstand, sitting on his bed, he opened a drawer and saw his baggie. There sad a vile of liquid meth and some smoking crystals and a pipe for just that. Je quickly grabbed the vile of the drug and a syringe. He assumed he would be fine if he used a needle that was partially used, I mean, it came from his own body, there shouldn't be any issue. Right?
The boy filled the syringe with air before releasing it into the vile, then slowly pulling back the plunger to watch the inside of the needle fill with the substance. he placed the full needle next to his leg before rolling up his sleeve to his left arm. Scars for needles covered the inside of his elbow, scars running up and down his forearm. Tweek wrapped his upper arm right above the elbow with a rubber tie, so he could isolate a vein to inject into. He needed a way to escape. Taking deep breathes in and out he inserted the needle. His body started shaking and he pushed down the plunger of the syringe. The feeling was everything, it was like a release of all his pent up energy and it felt fucking fantastic. But then he got a feeling. Like, he had done something wrong, wasn't supposed to. He looked around to find his phone, grabbing the Razor phone next to him he attempts to type something out.
“hey mnn, j messed ip kn slmething, can you call my parents plss?”
The words were barely readable, but he sent the message anyways. The message was to Craig.
The boy attempted to stand but as soon as he did, he fell to the floor and everything went black.
Later he was told that he had a seizure, more than once. All the meth in his system set his brain into fight or flight and it didn't know how to control the adrenaline rushing suddenly.
The next thing he remembers is being in the ambulance, but not being able to speak, only groan and scream, tosing and turning before succumbing to another black out, another seizure.
All you can wonder is how the fuck is he gonna get out of this.
The next and most recent memory is laying in bed, tubes shoved down his throat, unable to breathe on his own, his boyfriend laying in a cot next to his hospital bed. Craig usually didn't feel emotion, but he had cried himself to sleep, worried about what would happen, or what of the overdose had killed him? No one could be sure.
____________
“Hey Craig!” A familiar voice would yell behind the raven-haired boy, before turning around and meeting face to face with his closest friend, Clyde, “Yo, ass face.” Craig replied.
“Hey, did you hear? Meth-y is back in town!” Craig eyes widened. Back? How the fuck did Clyde know before him?
Tweek had been in rehab for around 3 months. After the overdose he had had, Craig was appalled by the idea that he was being released early, or at all. Craig had told Tweek that while he was recovering in the rehabilitation center, they needed a break, Craig needed to focus on himself and no one else. Tweek didn't react well. He had found a way to relapse and find drugs. They extended his stay by 2 weeks.
Craig ran to the Tweak residence before seeing that his old boyfriend, Tweek, was getting his stuff out of his parents’ vehicle, ticking and jerking in his usual ways, he only did that with no drugs in his system.
But what would happen if Craig tried to talk to him?
“ god fucking, damnit…”