A/N: I wanted this to take place after the episode Tweek vs. Craig and I suppose it does. They both are in the hospital, but I wanted to change the canon timeline a bit. So this takes place before the students visit them, and Cartman never sets them off again, and they're a bit older. I wanted this to be sweet. I'm just pulling this off the top of my head, so just go with it. Ugh. This is going to suck so bad. Whateva, whateva, I do what I want.

Beep-beep-beep.

The EKG attached to Tweek Tweak's body droned on loud enough so that it brought Tweek back to consciousness.

Beep-beep-beep.

I know that sound. Oh god I'm in a hospital! What did I do? What happened? Why can't I remember!

You lost it. You finally snapped. You're back in the psych ward.

"Leave me alone! I want to go home!" The voices always come back in the dark. Why is it so dark? I'm afraid of the dark! Everything bad happens in the dark! Like the voices.

"Gah! Go away! Turn the light on!" If I'm in the psych ward, why are there no nurses?

"Okay. Okay. Okay. Stop. Stop. Jesus, I can't do it!"

Why try? You know you can't do it. It has never helped before, why start now?

Shut up! If I do what I'm supposed to, they'll let me go home! Gah! Too much pressure! I should just stay here!

No, Tweek, shut up. This is easy. Just say what you know.

"My name is Tweek Tweak. I live in South Park. I hate hospitals. My voices talk to me. I'm alone. I am never getting out. They will have me. I'm going to die here- Nngh I can't do it!"

"Vilhueshudit?"

"Oh god, I'm not alone. Who's here?" Forget it, who cares. I turn in the uncomfortable bed, shove my face into the pillow, and pull the blanket over my head.

That was a person. A real live person. A person who was coming to get me and kill me and sweet Jesus what time is it?

Does it matter? That person obviously doesn't care, who, by the way, isn't a part of your imagination. I suggest you try to stay rational as he is not going to be friendly. People never are, and perhaps, he's more insane than you. Just hope for your sake he isn't a psychopath.

Stop it! Why can't you go away!

I'm used to the voices. They try to scare my, and sometimes they do, but right now I need to figure out what happened.

I peek out from my blanket fortress to see a light glow from the corner. There is a window and a red blur. As my eyes adjust, the digital clock comes into focus.

2:18 AM.

I'm so alone. I don't remember how I got here, or what happened or-

Stop. I'll help you.

Oh god. The doctors say to not to take help from the voices. They'll control you and take over your mind. They want your blood.

Gah! My blood! It's worse than the gnomes!

The gnomes! I can't let them steal any more of my underpants! Not when I'm here!

Oh shut up you moron. I don't want your blood. I want you to listen to the only part of your mind that can rationalize.

"Jesus, that's what you want me to think! Just get me out of here!"

Stop talking to yourself and listen. You are in the hospital, yes, but not because you had a meltdown, you got into a fight. And like the little prick you are, you got severely injured.

"Injured? W-what kind of injured?"

Oh nothing much, you just lost a kidney and broke three ribs.

"Oh god not my kidney!"

Oh Tweekie darling, I'm kidding. I'm allowed to do that you know. Anyway, you're in the hospital. But you're not alone. Oh no, you see, you're with the person who beat you up, if anything, he still wants your blood. You punched Craig righ—

I fought with Craig? How could I? But he's my friend!

I poke my head up over the blanket and look around. To my left, I see another bed, and the red EKG monitor beeping away. Sure enough there's a person in the bed, and from what I can see, it looks likes an arm has been molded with plaster.

"I-I-I broke his arm? Nngh! He's going to be so mad at me! He's going to kill me! What if I really, really hurt him! I don't even know what I did!" I can feel the tears forming.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

The person in the bed moved slightly.

"Ow." That was it. I started bawling. I lost it.

"!"

I hate crying like this. My chest is heaving, I'm sitting straight up, and I can barely breathe.

"Sw-sw-sw-sw-sw." I can only shudder.

"Er… Tweek?" He sat up.

"Sw-sw-sweet jesus I said that out loud!" I pull my self into some vertical fetal position.

"Tweek it's okay. Just stop and breathe."

"Please don't kill me! I'll do whatever you want! I'm so sorry! I never meant to hurt you!"

"I'm not going to kill you. Seriously just stop. You're going to hurt yourself."

He's lying. He will hurt you the second you let your guard down.

"I don't want to listen to you! I'm sick of you controlling my life!" Oh god I'm pulling my hair again.

"Err… I'm not doing anything." Craig hasn't moved, but from a quick glance I can see he looks slightly concerned. You can never tell, though, he's so monotone all the time.

"Not you! The voices! In my head!"

If he had any doubts before about your sanity, they've all been confirmed.

"Shut up! I don't want to listen to you!"

"Maybe I should go find a nurse." He started to get out of bed.

"No! Please! You can't! I can't do this anymore! I'm sick of this! Please just stop!" He does, and turns around to face me again.

"You can't tell the doctors. I'm fine, really." Oh god I don't want to tell him.

What's the big deal? He already knows.

"No he doesn't! No one does and it's going to stay that way!" I'm pulling at my hair again. I can feel small chunks falling out.

"Tweek, what's wrong?"

I've gone to my center. If I'm going to die, I might as well die happy, and in the one place that the voice can't touch me.

Once I'm here. I'm here.

Nothing can pull me out.

Except I feel a slight tap on my wrist, and when I look down, the green fields, the swans, my animal friends, are gone.

Instead I'm back in the hospital, and Craig has turned the light on. He's sitting on the edge of my bed with his hand on my wrist.

"Dude, you kind of glazed over. What happened?" How would I know? I've never lost my center before.

"Wh-what do you want from me?"

"What's wrong?" I really didn't want to talk about my problems with Craig.

"Nothing. I'm fine. Really." Craig raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth as if to speak. I cracked.

"The pressure, man! Fine, what do you want to know!" I braced myself for whatever intruding question he was going to ask.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Wh-what?" No, 'you're a psycho then?' 'Have you ever actually murdered a toddler?' 'What voice keeps talking to you?'

"I don't want you to hurt yourself. I'm deciding if I should call a nurse or not." I looked down and his hand was still on my wrist. He saw me look.

"Oh, sorry." I didn't want him to let go. I could feel my control of my mind slipping.

"No, wait, it's okay." Feeling brave, I grabbed his hand and held it. I didn't know if he like it or not, but I did.

"Do you want me to get you some help?"

"Help! No! Please don't! I'm just stressed and confused and the-ack!- the pressure!"

"What pressure?" I closed my eyes and squinted them shut.

"To tell you my problems. I have a lot of problems and I don't want to tell you."

"You don't have to if you don't want to. But I'll listen if you like."

"No, thanks."

"Tweek, are we going to be okay?"

"We?"

"Um, yeah. I always thought we were kind of friends. I don't want to hurt you for breaking my arm."

"You don't?"

"No. I don't blame you. The only reason why I agreed to fight you was, well, I didn't want the guys to think I'm, you know..." I did know. It was why I agreed too.

Like you could be the center of attention for something like that.

Just when I thought Craig was helping. Great.

"Oh." I thought him holding my hand meant something.

"But," he jumped on my bed, "I don't really care what they think. This is kind of nice."

He let go of my hand so he could lean up against me.

"M-me too." This was new. I never thought I could be close to another person like this. I put my head on his shoulder, and leaned his head on top of mine.

"You know Tweek; I don't care what happens inside your head. It isn't any of my business. But I like this. A lot. I wanted to say something, but I had no clue how you would react." I close my eyes. I never realized how I felt until now.

Too bad the only romance you're good at is cliché and corny mush.

"My voice just told me that I'm only good at being cliché." Craig smiled, and him squeezing my hand was the last thing I felt before falling back to sleep.

No voice, no fear, no anxiety. Peace.

A/N: *Le sigh* It could've been better. I think I might want to do Craig's POV or something like that. If you are reading this, you deserve a cookie. That was the cheesiest ending ever. But I digress…