A/N: Sorry about the wait again guys, hope you aren't too disappointed in me. Anyways, enjoy.

Disclaimer: Don't own South Park.

"You're a fag aren't you Tweek?" Craig chanted, pushing at my shoulder in anger. "A fucking little faggot, no wonder no one talks to you." His monotone voice spat, continuing to push me into the lockers of the gym room. "Who would want a friend that's a fag." I couldn't believe what I had just heard. Something inside me snapped at that very moment, and all I could see was red.


Blood was everywhere. On the floor, on Craig's clothes and even on my hand. It didn't even phase me that I had someone elses blood on me. I was too mad. But that was the day that I no longer had a best friend, or any friends for that matter.

I jolted awake, my breath caught in my throat. I gasped for air, clutching at my chest and the sheets. Shit I hated having that nightmare… It happened more and more lately. Shaking my head against my pillow I managed to calm myself down just in time for my mom to knock on the door.

"Tweek dear, I have your medicine and someone is here to see you." My already large eyes seemed to grow in size as she mentioned someone in the house.

"A g-g-g-guest?" I stuttered, blinking quickly to try and piece together who it could possibly be. My mother gave a nod allowing the door to open further. Thankfully, only Bebe stood behind her. I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. "O-Oh, hi Bebe… S-Sorry for the mess…" I mumbled, looking down at the floor. My wet clothes were thankfully picked up, but me thrashing about to take them off showed in the mess that was created. Bebe laughed, entering the room with a small bag of goodies.

"You weren't answering any of my messages, so I decided to come over. I hope it's not a problem." It unfortunately was as no one has seen my room in years, but I didn't want to make her feel bad.

"N-No! I just hope you a-aren't w-weirded out by my posters…" My voice lowered along with my head as I focused on things other than her. Bebe giggled, shaking her head and allowing her curls to bounce with the motion.

"Oh not at all sweetie! It's quite… tasteful." She chuckled again, handing me the bag she brought over. I looked up for a moment to accept the bag. Peering inside I was cautious, to make sure nothing popped out and attacked me. She noticed my skeptical actions and laughed once more. "I promise nothing will bite you." I gave a small smile before opening the bag up completely. Inside the bag was a few assorted packages of coffee from what seemed to be from around the world. There was also a lot of different candies and toys.

"Th-This is all f-for me?" I questioned, my eyes twitching awkwardly. She gave a nod of approval, her hair bouncing once again.

"I wanted to get you something special since you seemed to be down in the dumps yesterday." I raised my eyebrows in confusion.

"I was at the dumps?!" I shouted, causing my bed to rock from my sudden motion. She laughed again, putting a hand on my shoulder as she took a seat on the bed.

"No no! It's an expression sweetie. You just seemed upset, so I wanted to try and make you feel better. So I got a little bit of everything." I calmed down, but wrinkled my nose.

"You d-didn't need too…" She squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"But I wanted to." She giggled, letting her hand fall to her lap. "Besides, you have to be in tip top shape for homecoming!" She cheered. I blinked again, this time very confused.

"H-Homecoming? I-I'm not going to go.." I said defeatedly. Bebe pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't even h-have a date! No one would w-want me to go wi-with them…" Bebe smiled.

"You don't have to have a date to have a good time. I'm going with Kenny, but I would like you to go." I shook my head, multiple thoughts going through my mind all at once.

"B-But I can't! Wh-What if someone pours p-pigs blood on me!? O-Or I get turned into a pumpkin!?" I shouted, my hands going up to my mouth as I began to chew at my already nub-like nails. Bebe quickly pulled my hands out of my mouth and pulled them into hers. I blushed, looking between her and her hands.

"I promise nothing like that will happen. I want you to go shopping with me next weekend. Help me pick out a dress." She asked. I blinked, wrinkling up my nose.

"But I-I don't have any sort of fashion sense…" I said dejectedly. She shook her head.

"I don't think so, you'll know what looks good on me, I can almost guarantee it." She beamed. I fidgeted, her hands still wrapped into mine. I sighed heavily, knowing that she was going to get her way.

"F-Fine… I'll go." The moment the words left my mouth, she released my hands, but embraced me into a tight, bone crushing hug. Once more I was breathless. "B-B-Bebe…" I mumbled, trying to push her off of me.

"OH! I'm sorry…" She mumbled, releasing me from her death grip. She brought her hand to the back of her head, rubbing it nervously. "Alrighty, well I'll pick you up on saturday. I know that we both somehow don't work. But whatever. See ya Tweek!" Bebe stated happily, leaving my room quickly. I sat there for a few moment, blinking in order to try and figure out if what happened was real or still part of me dreaming. I pinched my arm a few times and sighed.

"Nope… Not dreaming."

I groaned loudly as my head slammed against the book on my desk.

Stupid. Fucking. Shakespeare.

Again with the smart and big words. With the way to woo women and then somehow die in the arms of them.

I don't understand this man… Maybe that's why I'm learning about him.

It took me two full days to recover from the small cold I had and although it was friday night, I was still working on some make-up homework. I needed to get it done before Bebe got here tomorrow because god forbid I wind up staying with her the whole day… What if I get stuck in the mall and have to live there for the rest of my life… Oh god, that would be horrible!

I shook my head, heavily sighing as my eyes narrowed at my clock, trying to see the time. '10:56 pm.' UUUUUUGH. Thankfully I'm almost done… I think… No wait… Done.

I scribbled a few words on the paper and pushed it aside. It wasn't my best work, but it was good enough for the teachers. They didn't really care as long as I knew how to spell my name. Great educational system we have.


I jumped up three feet in the air and spun around before finally falling onto the ground. My heart was pounding in my chest as I turned my head towards the sound. Oh… My phone… On vibrate… Oh….

I crawled to my nightstand, reaching up to grab my phone. Who the hell would be messaging me this late. Probably Bebe.

Nope… Not Bebe at all.

'r u goin 2 homcummin?'

Unknown sender… Who the hell has my number… What?

'idk who you are, but you cant spell.'

I awkwardly typed my response. Damn touch screens. Almost as soon as I placed the phone back down it buzzed again. I scrunched up my face and adjusted my body onto my bed. I picked up my phone once again and my eyes grew wide with both terror and confusion.

'its craig u ass. anwr the ? '

I wanted to chuck my phone. Throw it half way across the room. But knowing my luck, it would bounce back and break a bone in my body. And I would forever be disfigured. My hands shook, confusion and anger rising in my veins. Do I respond?

'why do you care? and how did you get this number?'

Send. My hands continued to shake, but I didn't want to put the phone down. I needed to stand my ground. But why would he be messaging me? We only have History together, it's not like- RESPONSE.

'jus wondrin. n dont worry bout it.'

What. An. Asshole. Fine, if he doesn't want me to worry about it, then I wont. My hands shook as I switched my phone to silent, locking it for the evening. I was already in my pajamas so all I needed to do was lay back… Relax and…

Who the hell am I kidding, I can't relax. Why the hell would he message me out of the blue. And to ask a dumb question like that!? I thought he hated me, wanted me dead… GAH SO MUCH PRESSURE.

I laid there for I don't know how many hours… Four… Five? It didn't matter. The messages were still swirling around in my head. But I did come to a conclusion.

Craig Tucker liked putting me under pressure.