Chapter Text
You are the sun and I am just the planets, Spinning around you, Spinning around you
–
There’s a hand clutching his, but the needle sticking into the vein on his own makes it hard to grip back. He flexes his fingers a couple times, trying to get movement back into them, but they feel stiff and unused.
He doesn't know where he is, just that he feels like he’s suddenly waking up from a dream. One minute, he’s floating through space, the next he’s crash landing on some strange planet. And the impact from one to the other hurts like hell.
“Honey,” a voice says next to him. It sounds far away, but he knows who that is. He’d know that voice anywhere. Even in space. He wants to tell Craig that space hurts like a bitch. He doesn’t understand why he’s so enamoured by something that makes Tweek’s whole body ache.
“Honey, can you hear me?”
Tweek turns his head, or he thinks he does. Maybe he just shifts his eyes instead. Maybe Craig is the one who shifts, like an alien on his space ship, floating closer to where Tweek is stranded on some nameless planet. Held captive by some wires and an oxygen mask. There’s no oxygen in space, so of course they’d put a mask on him.
Either way, Craig is in his line of vision now. People can cry in space, apparently. Craig is crying. Why don’t the tears float away?
Whatever planet they’re on doesn’t have a sun. He’s so cold. His eyes are heavy, but he tries to convey to Craig just how fucked up this is. Where could they possibly be where there’s no sun to nestle this odd planet in its warmth?
“You’re in the hospital, okay,” Craig is saying, reaching over to stroke the hair off of Tweek’s forehead. “You had a… shit.” His voice cracks. Not in the normal way for a fifteen year old boy sometimes. But in a way that lets Tweek know the crack is under the surface, and he’s breaking. “You had an overdose.”
The word doesn’t compute. Maybe NASA will translate for him later. Surely they’re watching over them, taking notes and transmitting them.
“It was the coffee,” Craig is saying. He doesn’t know Tweek can’t keep up yet. Maybe he's talking more to himself anyway. “It was the fucking coffee. I knew something was up, I just – I didn’t think it would be meth.”
More of his surroundings are starting to stick out. There’s something beeping in the background. Tweek follows the sound to see something ticking away, tracking numbers. Maybe coordinates so other people will know his location. The room is bright white, like he’s been brought into the spaceship’s observation room for experiments. The blanket is softer than the one he has at home. It’s tucked around him, keeping him secure.
There’s a screen on the wall that has harsh red and blue lights flashing on it. Tweek squints, making out Earth emergency vehicles parked in front of a building. Wait. He knows that building.
“... currently a raid is going on at Tweak Bros. Coffee, a local family owned business in South Park,” someone on the screen is saying. “The owners have been arrested under the suspicion of distributing meth.”
“I can’t believe they would do this to their own fucking kid,” Craig goes on. His blue chullo hat is crumpled in his hand, the one not clutching Tweek’s. Tweek wonders where his space helmet is.
People are talking outside.
Tweek’s brain is having a hard time understanding the words, but they filter through his head anyway.
“He doesn’t have any family around here,” someone is saying. It sounds like Craig’s mother. She’s crying too. “I didn’t even know he had a grandfather in California.”
More voices. Tweek can’t recognize them.
“We’ve been in contact with him, and he’s on his way,” someone, maybe an alien, says. “He should be here by tomorrow.”
“Please, can’t we just take emergency custody?” Craig’s mom again. “No, I understand, but to send him with someone he doesn’t know? He’s already going to be waking up to so much change as it is.”
“We just want to help.” Thomas. Craig’s dad. “Tweek is practically part of our family. I know – I know it’s not that simple, but –”
The voices fade as Craig pulls Tweek’s knuckles to his lips.
“I love you,” he’s saying. Tears are spilling onto Tweek’s knuckles. They’re warm against his clammy skin. It’s the only warmth he can feel, and it’s coming from Craig. “This isn’t fair.”
It really isn’t, Tweek thinks.
He was supposed to say those three words first.