#tweaked the lyrics a bit in the caption but you get what i mean

[sachigram]

Infinity, With Coffee Rings Chapter 5

((click here to read on ao3!!))

Craig frowns down at his phone, thinking to himself it's very unlike Tweek to not respond for so long, especially when Tweek was mentioning before how slow things are at the shop. Craig is certain Tweek is just depressed about his parents, thinking he did something wrong by having fun for once, and Craig hates it, hates that Tweek feels guilty for trying to be...normal.

Craig really fucking dislikes Tweek's parents.

“Still nothing?” Token asks. They're hanging out at Clyde's place until it's time to go pick up Tweek from the coffee shop.

“No,” Craig says, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“Maybe he got busy,” Clyde says. He's lounging on the couch, his head in Bebe's lap, and his feet in Token's. Craig is sitting in the armchair by the window.

“I don't think so. I think he's probably spiraling or something,” Craig says. He continues when the others just look at him. “His parents treat him like a child. It's just annoying, and he actually believes the shit they say.”

“Well,” Bebe says softly, “Tweek has always had...a lot of issues. It's possible his parents just think they're doing the right thing.”

“Yeah, but like— At what point does it stop being sheltering and more along the lines of abuse?” Craig asks. “They're telling him stuff like he'll never have another job and can't just hang out with his friends like other people do. They didn't even want him to have a guinea pig because they've told him repeatedly he'd kill it.”

“That does seem extreme,” Token says.

“Right? I mean, I'm not saying I understand all the shit Tweek's been through, especially since he won't tell me, but that's just messed up. Parents aren't supposed to tell you all the stuff you can't do.”

Clyde hums and reaches up, poking Bebe in the cheek. She looks down at him, amused.

“Yes, dear?” she asks.

“Craig has a crush,” Clyde says gleefully. “I'm thriving.”

“Shut up,” Craig says.

“I think it's cute,” Bebe says, smiling over at Craig. “You've always had a soft spot for Tweek, and it sounds like Tweek needs someone to have a soft spot for him. Maybe no one else looks out for him.”

“Tweek always was by himself a lot. And the times we went to his house as kids, his parents would try to reinforce that Tweek wasn't normal. Remember? They'd always pull us off to the side and tell us he had ADHD and anxiety and all kinds of stuff. We were eight years old. There was no reason to tell us that,” Token says, and Craig nods.

“Exactly. It's just got me feeling pissed off.”

“We'll spend the night cheering up your boy, Craig, you can rest your pretty head,” Clyde says, and Craig snorts before he can help it. “Imagine what Tweek will be like high. I can't fucking wait.”

“Are you sure it's a good idea to let him smoke?” Bebe asks, and she looks apologetic when Craig gives her a look. “I'm not saying it to treat him like a baby! It's just, what if it makes his anxiety worse? It makes mine worse.”

“I don't think Tweek could get much worse,” Clyde assures her. “We'll give him tiny puffs and let him build up to it. He doesn't have to go in doing bong rips right off the bat.”

“We don't have a bong,” Bebe says.

“You know what I mean!”

“I think it'll be fine,” Token says. “If he freaks out, we'll just calm him down the way we calmed Clyde down that one time.”

“I had edibles,” Clyde says. “Edibles are way different.”

“Oh, god,” Bebe says, laughing. “He hid in the bathtub and started crying about how his parents were coming to kill him for doing drugs.”

“It was plausible!” Clyde defends.

“And we sang to him. Somehow it worked.” Craig laughs at the memory. They were all stoned as shit, trying to think of calming tunes. They ended up singing Lady Gaga, and by the end of it, Clyde was blubbering along to the lyrics of “Summer Boy”.

Craig's phone vibrates, and he hurriedly checks it, ignoring the looks from his friends.

“Is it your boyfriend?” Clyde asks, and Craig reaches behind himself, grabs the pillow, throws it at Clyde. It hits him in the face.

Tweek sent a picture of latte art. It looks like a cute animal's face in the foam, and the caption says, I drew Espresso in the espresso.

Nice. Craig sends. He waits a moment, decides, fuck it, and sends, You okay?

Yeah, closing up soon if you wanna go ahead and drop by.

Craig stands. “I'm gonna go get Tweek.”

“Give him a kiss from all of us,” Clyde says.

“I'll use the technique your mom taught me,” Craig retorts, and Token and Bebe laugh while Clyde scowls.

***

Tweek is busy sweeping the floor when Craig arrives. He grins up at Craig, looking as excited as he does every time he sees Craig, and Craig finds it endearing as hell, if not a little confusing that someone could be so happy to see him of all people. At the same time, he always feels a sense of calm when he sees Tweek. Part of him still expects Tweek to vanish when they aren't together, like all of this is some fever dream on his part. He thinks he'd be even more devastated than the last time. Tweek is part of his routine now, and if he was gone, Craig would miss him like a lost limb.

“Hey, Tweeks-McGeeks,” Craig says, stepping over to him.

“Gross. Never call me that again,” Tweek says, shoving him. “And back up before you step in my dirt pile!”

“Ugh, I just got here, and you're bossing me around. What am I, your errand boy?” Craig asks woefully, flopping in a chair. Tweek smirks.

“Maybe.”

“I'm so mistreated. One day, I'll leave South Park forever, and then you'll all be sorry,” Craig says, feeling accomplished when Tweek snorts. “Do you need help with anything?”

“Nah, just gotta finish this up and then mop. It won't take long.”

“It'd take less time if you let me mop,” Craig says.

“No way! Just hang out there and I'll be done in like, five minutes, tops!”

“Eaughhhh...” Craig sinks into the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him and making it a point to look as uncomfortable as possible. He's halfway into the floor when Tweek sets a muffin down in front of him.

“Here, eat that, and shut up,” Tweek says. Craig sits up and breaks off a piece of the muffin.

“Don't all the baked goods here kind of...suck?” he asks. Tweek watches him pop the piece in his mouth, and then Tweek's expression is extremely pleased when Craig ogles the muffin in surprise and takes a proper bite.

“The food only sucks when my dad makes it,” Tweek says smugly. “I got bored and made a few extra muffins a while ago. I figured I'd take them to Clyde, smuggle them somehow so Bebe won't know.”

“Fuck,” Craig says. “Clyde's gonna love you more than me.” He eats the muffin and watches Tweek, carefully avoiding dropping any crumbs onto the floor or the table. “So your parents left already?”

“Yeah. They don't close very often. Mom never works at all, actually, but she was here today for some reason.” Tweek dumps out the dustpan into the trash and goes behind the counter, into a small closet. He emerges with a mop and mop bucket. “Dad's on more pills than me, if you can believe it, so he's not one to stay up late.”

“It's like, ten,” Craig says, and Tweek shrugs before pushing the bucket towards a sink.

“Late for him. And I don't sleep much anyway.” Tweek begins the process of filling up a sanitizer bucket with water and then dumping it into the mop bucket. He sees Craig watching and grins sheepishly. “The mop sink is so slow. I promise this is the faster way.”

“I wasn't judging,” Craig says. “So, your mom was here, and they both just jumped you when you came back?”

“Not like— Not jumped,” Tweek mutters. He twitches a bit, and his free hand starts tapping at his thigh while he drops some soap into the bucket. “They just say stuff, and then I feel bad, and then I wonder why the fuck I feel bad. It's so grade-school, and I hate that it bothers me.”

“What'd they say? Just that it was busy?” Craig asks, and Tweek glances at him dubiously. “Look, man, I'm practically a licensed family counselor. In case you forgot, my family cusses each other out daily. I can help you see all the underlying aggression in the passiveness for sure.”

Tweek sighs and wheels the bucket around as he starts mopping. “Just, you know, that it was super busy, and I wasn't here, so...” He grumbles. “But I checked the sales and it wasn't busy at all. I've sold like three drinks since I got here. And my mom never works anymore, so I feel like it was a huge thing they planned just to make me feel bad about going out.”

“Do they do that a lot?” Craig asks. “Guilt trip you, I mean.”

“I never go out!” Tweek practically yelps, and Craig lifts his feet when Tweek passes by with the mop. “The only times I do anything except work and therapy are when you're here! But even that's this huge thing with them. God forbid I have any fucking—ngh—“ Tweek stops, puts his fingers to the bridge of his nose and squeezes as he takes a deep breath. “I'm just reading too much into it.”

“You're allowed to be upset. It sounds like they expect a lot from you.” Craig doesn't like seeing Tweek get so worked up, especially when he's clearly embarrassed that his twitching is showing more. The twitching has never bothered Craig, but Tweek acts like it's a landmine, something to be avoided at all costs.

“They don't, really,” Tweek mutters, continuing to mop. “Not the things normal parents expect, at least, cause I'm not a normal person. They just want me around all the time, and I don't mind it so much, but. I haven't seen any of you in so long. I don't see how it could hurt anything, me having friends sometimes.”

“Normal jobs give you off days,” Craig says. “It's kind of a requirement.”

“Yeah, I know, but this is a family business, and there's only three of us.”

“You work every day, every shift, from what I've seen.” Craig wads up the muffin wrapper.

“It was just the two of them for a long time,” Tweek says, and then he pushes the mop bucket back into the room behind the counter. Craig sighs, wondering how long the Tweaks are going to use that as a reason to justify Tweek working all the time. Sure, they've earned a vacation, but it's been more than long enough.

Tweek emerges with his coat on, and he puts a scarf around his neck. “Do you mind stopping by my place?” he asks. “I just don't know how long we're gonna be out, and I usually feed Espresso after work, so—“

“Tweek, relax,” Craig says, standing. He grins and ruffles Tweek's hair, pleased that Tweek has worked out such a strict schedule for his pet. “South Park is tiny as fuck. Everything is on the way to everywhere. I don't mind stopping.”

Tweek visibly deflates and nods, though he still looks a little high-strung. Well. More high-strung than usual. Tweek turns the lights off and locks the door behind them, and then they're on their way.

***

The lights are off at Tweek's house. It's quiet inside, and Tweek clearly wasn't joking about his parents going to bed early. They walk up the stairs, Tweek using his phone as a flashlight, and when they're inside Tweek's room, he turns the light on.

“This'll just take a second!” Tweek says, moving to the cage in the corner. He frees Espresso before nuzzling the little ball of fuzz and handing him to Craig. “Can you play with him while I get his food ready?”

“Sure thing,” Craig says, using his finger to pet Espresso. It's no secret to anyone that knows him that guinea pigs are his weakness. Tweek is becoming an equal weakness, but Craig hasn't quite worked out why just yet.

“Oh, wow,” Tweek says after a few moments, and Craig looks up at him. “He really likes you. He likes you more than me! Okay, not allowed, give him back.”

“No way. It's not my fault your son wants to elope with me,” Craig says, flopping onto Tweek's bed. “You'll learn to love again.”

Tweek sits beside Craig on the bed, reaching to pet Espresso, his fingers bumping into Craig's. It's quiet for a little bit, and then Tweek speaks again.

“Sorry for unloading all that garbage on you. I know it's dumb, but. Thanks for listening.”

“You listened to me,” Craig reminds him, and Tweek sighs.

“Yeah, but you have real, grown-up problems. We're close to thirty, dude. I shouldn't care so much about what my parents think.”

“I think parental shit is kind of ageless. Also, you're worried about work, and that's totally a grown-up concern.”

Tweek snorts softly. “You're so nice to me. You've always been nice, even if everyone else said you were a dick. Well, I guess you're a dick too, but not in a bad way.”

“Never forget our fist fight, Tweek. I can beat you up again if it makes you feel like more a man,” Craig says, and Tweek laughs.

“Whatever! There was no winner! Besides, we were eight. I think all the kids fought each other back then. There wasn't much else to do.” Tweek gently takes Espresso and stands, moving to the cage and putting Espresso by his food bowl. He closes the cage and turns back to Craig. “Ready?” he asks.

***

Everyone is still lounging exactly where Craig left them when they return back to Clyde's. They look up from the TV and greet Tweek, who fidgets and waves, his side pressed to Craig's.

“Jesus. Could you guys get any lazier?” Craig asks.

“I moved a bit,” Clyde says. “I had to pee at one point.”

“I ordered pizza,” Token says. “I got you a veggie pizza, Tweek. And cheese bread, too.”

“I got wings, because real men eat meat,” Clyde adds.

“It's sweet that you ordered wings just for Craig and Token,” Tweek says, shrugging his jacket off, and Craig laughs so hard he almost falls over.

“Hey, fuck off, no weed for Tweek!” Clyde says, sitting up. He holds up a poorly wrapped joint and waves it in the air. “We gotta smoke first, cause then the food will be better.”

“Don't you love how Clyde still treats it like this big illegal thing when we literally went to a store today and bought it with a debit card?” Token asks fondly, and Clyde huffs at him.

“No weed for Token either! More for me and my real friends.”

“I'm not smoking,” Bebe says. “It just makes me super hungry, and I eat enough as it is.”

“Wow, okay, you and me, Craig. Oh, wait. You'll just shotgun it to your little friend, won't you?” Clyde asks deviously, and Craig glares at him.

“New plan, why don't we beat Clyde up and smoke without him?” Craig asks at the same time Tweek says, “What's shotgun mean?”

“Hurry up and pass it, man, I'm starving,” Token says, and Bebe gets up to bring all the boxes of food into the living room.

“Okay, so, Tweek,” Clyde says after he exhales and passes the joint to Token, “what you do is inhale and hold it in your lungs for as long as you can. That's how you get high.”

“I've never smoked anything in my life,” Tweek says nervously. “If any of you laugh at me, I'm just— I'm gonna throw punches.”

“That's acceptable,” Craig says, taking the joint from Token. “Jesus, Clyde, did you roll this? It looks obese. There's too much in the middle.”

“Fuck off, it's been a long time!” Clyde snaps. He takes a piece of pizza from Bebe, and Craig suddenly remembers the little case of muffins in his car. He'll have to smuggle them in for Clyde later. He holds the lighter to the end of the joint and inhales, aware Tweek is watching with rapt attention. Craig coughs when he exhales, tears in his eyes.

“I got— I got the fucking fat part, because Clyde sucks—“ Craig gripes between coughs. Everyone else laughs at him.

“If you're coughing, I'm gonna die,” Tweek says, very seriously.

“No one's ever died from weed, Tweek. You'll be fine,” Bebe says sweetly. Tweek looks at her anxiously, and then at Craig when Craig passes him the joint.

“Here, I'll light it for you. Just focus on inhaling.” Craig lets Tweek's trembling fingers wrap around the joint, and then Craig carefully holds the lighter up while Tweek inhales timidly. “Okay,” Craig says when Tweek pulls back, “now just hold it as long as you can.”

Clyde fishes in one of the other boxes and passes out a slice of veggie pizza to Craig, who holds it for Tweek. Tweek looks very focused on holding in his smoke, and he passes the joint back to Clyde before he exhales with a sharp cough.

“Hey, you did better than I thought you would,” Clyde says, taking the joint back.

Craig puts his hand on Tweek's back and rubs until Tweek sits up straight, his coughs ceasing gradually.

“That burns,” Tweek hisses. He takes the pizza from Craig.

“Yeah, but it's worth it. Just wait a while,” Craig says, stealing a meat-lover's slice from Clyde, who swats him.

They take turns passing the joint, and Craig takes over when Clyde begins rolling another one.

“You've lost privileges,” Craig says. He looks over at Tweek, who is nibbling pizza crust. “You might wanna wait before you get another slice. Eating makes the high go away. You wanna wait until you're toasted, and then the food will be great.”

“Okay,” Tweek says easily, still nibbling. “I want soda.”

“Oh, hang on!” Bebe says, getting up. “I bought Sprite.”

“I wanted Dr. Pepper,” Clyde mumbles, and she kisses his head.

“Too much sugar. You're lucky you didn't get La Croix.”

“I like La Croix!” Tweek says, and Clyde points at him.

“That's it. That's the last straw,” Clyde says, and Tweek pouts.

“Look, I get it, it's not sweet, and it kind of tastes like death, but it's bubbly!” Tweek argues, and then he flops into Craig's side. “What do you think?”

“Sorry, I can't defend La Croix,” Craig says, and Tweek grumbles before climbing over him, to Token's side.

“What about you?” Tweek asks, and Token laughs.

“I don't hate it,” Token says, and Tweek wiggles under Token's arm before sticking his tongue out at Craig.

“Someone here has taste!” Tweek says, and Clyde cackles while Craig grins and finishes up with his meticulous joint-rolling.

Bebe returns with cans of Sprite, and they pass around the new joint, which even Tweek says is much easier to smoke. Clyde pouts for all of a minute before he paws at Bebe.

“I want something sweet,” he whines, and she rolls her eyes.

“You have pizza! I asked if you wanted dessert, and you said no!” Bebe says, and Clyde whines more.

“I thought it was a trap! You never let me have sweet stuff!”

“Well. You're getting too thin,” Bebe says, and her eyes are sad. Craig is about to try and make a joke when Tweek jumps to his feet.

“Oh, my god. Oh, my god, okay, Craig, give me your keys,” Tweek says, holding out his hand, and Craig grins before reaching in his pocket and giving Tweek his car keys. Tweek runs out quickly, no coat, and all of them look at the open door.

“Uh?” Clyde points at the door. “The fuck?”

“Tweek got you a present,” Craig says, leaning back and hogging the joint since everyone else is distracted. “I was gonna smuggle it to you later, but apparently Bebe is being generous on the junk food.”

Tweek returns, jumping around for warmth while he closes the door. He holds the container out for Clyde, shivering in place while doing so.

“I m-m-made you...m-muffins!” Tweek says, and Clyde legitimately looks like he might cry.

“You made these for me?” Clyde asks, taking the little container like it's a sacred artifact.

“You like them! You get them—sometimes. Sometimes, you used to get them,” Tweek says, remembering Bebe is in the room. “You'll wanna heat them up first. I made a variety since I didn't know what you liked for sure.”

“That's so sweet, Tweek,” Bebe says, touched. “Do you mind if I try one?”

“Of course not! Dude, I make so many of these things. Seriously, just ask. I'm supposed to throw them away after a couple of days.”

Tweek rounds the couch and sits next to Craig, huddling against him for warmth and handing his keys back.

“Token's over there,” Craig teases.

“You're warmer. No offense, Token,” Tweek says.

“I'm so high,” Token says, leaning back into the couch, and there's a pause before everyone laughs.

“I feel fine!” Tweek says. “I'm just...warm. And happy? And everything is like. Everything is just really good?”

“Tweek is also very high,” Craig says, and he kisses the top of Tweek's head without thinking anything of it. No one says anything, though Clyde looks smug, and Bebe and Token grin. Tweek melts more into Craig's side, unfazed.

“Maybe I am high. That's okay, though,” Tweek says, and then he looks up at Craig. “Are we high enough to eat?”

Craig laughs. He doesn't think he's laughed so much in a long time. “Dude, if you're hungry, eat. You can always smoke more later, if you want.”

Tweek gets another slice of pizza before huddling back against Craig, who doesn't mind the additional warmth. Tweek has always smelled like coffee, and though Craig isn't a huge fan of coffee itself, he admires the scent.

“Tweek, are you cold? I can get you a blanket,” Bebe says, and Tweek shakes his head.

“I'm fine.”

Clyde opens his mouth, and Bebe slaps a hand over it before giving him a threatening look. Craig doesn't mind the jokes, truthfully. He can see why they would say it's a crush. Tweek used to be a part of Craig's everyday, and then suddenly, he wasn't anymore. Part of Craig is scared to get used to Tweek's presence again, but the rest of him knows it's inevitable. They were inseparable before, and it really seems like they might be again, even with years of being apart.

“You guys know what I miss?” Tweek asks, and Craig realizes he was zoning out.

“What?” Token asks. He's melted against Clyde's side, Bebe on Clyde's other side.

“Stark's Pond,” Tweek says, and he grins when everyone gives him an incredulous look. “What? It's weird, okay, the stuff you think of when you're—gone. We had great times there.”

“Where did you go, anyway?” Clyde asks. Craig feels Tweek sigh.

“I'll tell you if you drive me to Stark's Pond,” Tweek says at last.

“It's freezing outside,” Clyde argues. “Are you crazy?”

“Yeah. Certifiably, in case you forgot,” Tweek says, and he shows off his perfect teeth in another smile. “C'mon, when's the last time you guys did anything fun at night?”

“Please don't tell me you want to ice skate,” Token says.

“Nah, I don't have any skates. I just want to see it? Maybe walk around a bit. I haven't gone since I've been back,” Tweek admits, and Craig has to acknowledge how piqued his curiosity is about where Tweek's been. Clyde looks up at Bebe and touches her cheek.

“You're the sober one here,” he says. “What do you think?”

“Tweek made us muffins,” Bebe says. “I can drive fifteen minutes up the road if he wants.”

“Ugh, so I have to move. Okay.” Token sits up and then stands, gives them all a sour expression. “Look at you guys. Who am I supposed to cuddle up with, huh?”

“Me,” Clyde, Tweek, and Craig all say at the same time. Bebe just giggles.

***

The ride to the pond is short. Clyde rides up front with Bebe, and Craig piles with Tweek and Token in the back, Tweek in the middle because he's the smallest. Craig smokes a cigarette out the window, pleased when Tweek curls into him again for warmth. Clyde plays bullshit on the radio, because of course he does. Craig will coerce Bebe to change the playlist on the way back. They pass the joint around again, and Craig is ecstatic by how blasted Tweek is. He doesn't want Tweek to be paranoid or anything else, just wants Tweek to feel included and happy, which Tweek definitely seems to be.

“Here we are!” Clyde announces. “Scenic Stark's Pond. Shitty ass ice hole in the ground. Are you happy, Tweekers?”

“Yes,” Tweek says, sitting up and looking out the window. “Wow, it looks smaller. Did it get smaller?”

“Nope. We got bigger,” Clyde says, and he snatches the joint back to himself.

“Remember the races we used to have?” Token asks, leaning over Tweek to look. “Us versus Stan and them. Tweek was always the fastest, so we put him against Kyle.”

“Kyle runs off of spite and hatred,” Craig says. “Putting him against the most caffeinated person made sense.”

“Kyle is very level-headed, actually,” Bebe says, turning to look at them in the backseat. “We have brunch sometimes.”

“Bebe is showing us all how sober she is,” Clyde adds, giving her a look. “Only sober people could say Kyle is level-headed.”

“He grew up!” Bebe argues. “Besides, sometimes Stan comes, too. We drink mimosas and talk about politics.”

“Sounds like them,” Craig says. “Always involved in shit.”

“I want a mimosa now,” Bebe says woefully, and Clyde pats her head.

“You can drink when we get home! You're off tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, but now I just want to sleep. When did we get old?” Bebe asks, and Clyde laughs.

“I dunno, babe. I ask myself that a lot.” Clyde turns abruptly when the backdoor opens, and they all shout when Tweek climbs over Craig, into the cold night air.

“I just wanna get closer!” Tweek says, sprinting towards the pond. The rest of them curse before following after him.

“What does he expect to see here besides ice and maybe a deranged hobo?” Clyde asks, shuffling behind Craig.

“Maybe this place is a good memory for him,” Token says. “Good memories are hard to come by in a place like South Park.”

“Understatement of the fucking century.” Craig snorts, and when they reach Tweek, he tugs Tweek backwards by his collar.

“Gah!” Tweek yelps, and then he turns, rubbing at his arms, a pout on his face. “It really is just an ice hole in the ground.”

“Duh. What'd you expect?” Clyde grumbles.

“I don't guess I expected anything, really,” Tweek says. He sighs softly. “I still like it here. It's quiet. You guys remember when all the adults in town used to say shit about South Park being a quiet mountain town where they could raise their kids? I always thought that was so stupid. It was never quiet here at all. But Stark's was.” Tweek shivers a bit, and both Craig and Clyde huddle with him, so then Bebe and Token do, too.

“Yeah, it's even crazier out in Denver. Not many quiet places like this in the city, not without a drive,” Token says.

“I can't believe you guys got out,” Clyde mutters. “I don't think I'll ever get out of South Park.”

“Sure we will,” Bebe says. “There's just more important things to worry about right now, but we will.”

“Besides, we didn't get too far,” Craig says. “We come here often enough to still be in the gravitational pull.”

“Yeah, I guess so. And Tweek came back.” Clyde swats Tweek's arm. “So where'd you go, you fucker? You promised to say.”

“The psych ward,” Tweek says, and Clyde snorts.

“Okay, but really,” Clyde says and then there's a pause.

“Oh, Tweek,” Bebe says, moving closer to him. “You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

“It's no big deal,” Tweek says. “I wasn't there the whole time, just a week or so. And I guess they call it something different for kids, but it was technically a psych ward in its own way. Some of the others got offended when you called it that, but not calling it that was just pretending. At least to me.” Tweek twitches, and Craig instantly can tell the difference between that and his shivering.

“Fuck, sorry. I didn't mean to be an asshole,” Clyde says.

“That's not why you're an asshole,” Tweek replies, and then he laughs. “You guys were the only ones who never treated me like I was crazy. Like, you picked on me, but if you didn't pick on me, I would've felt even more left out. You still included me in stuff, and that meant a lot to me. But everything else just really sucked.”

Craig thinks back to when they were kids. Tweek never mentioned anything at all. Craig definitely would have listened, even if he wouldn't have understood. He would have tried to, and he would have been there for Tweek, if nothing else.

“I was just really tired, and I was tired of being tired, and then there just weren't even consequences anymore? I just took a bunch of pills all the time, so I didn't see the harm in taking more, and then I had to get my stomach pumped and it was this whole fucking—thing. They kept saying I was suicidal and I didn't even really understand what that meant, and my parents were really out of it, so I went to live with my grandparents. It wasn't anything super secret. I don't know why my parents wouldn't have told you I just moved,” Tweek says, and he shrugs a bit. “My grandpa died a few years back, and my grandma died recently, so I moved back here.”

No one says anything. Craig thinks they're all trying to retain this information while being high as shit, and Bebe probably just doesn't know what to say. Craig knows Tweek wouldn't want pity, and he wouldn't want to think he was ruining everyone's good time, even if no one else is thinking that.

“How anticlimactic,” Craig says, and they all look at him. “I thought you got kidnapped by spies or something.”

“Nope. Just crazy,” Tweek says, and he looks grateful for the lightening of the atmosphere.

“They could have at least passed on our letters,” Token says. “We wrote you.”

“I know. I didn't know back then, but when I came home, they had all the letters in a box in my room. It's not... I mean, my parents aren't bad people. They just mentally checked out a long time ago, and then they chose to sedate themselves. They're not even on this planet half the time. I don't think they really wanted a kid, and then they had me, so they just convinced themselves all this shit was wrong with me even if it's not. And then somewhere I just really did become crazy because everyone treated me that way.” Tweek shuffles on his feet, and then he grumbles softly. “Wow, being high makes me really talkative.”

“That's okay. Being high makes me shut the fuck up,” Craig says, and they all laugh. Craig doesn't like that Tweek thinks of himself as crazy, but Craig also knows trying to convince Tweek of anything else will take time and patience, not words. Luckily, Craig has plenty of time and patience. He doesn't want Tweek to disappear again, not when things feel like they're finally going back to normal.

Well, as normal as things can ever be in this town.

“Can we get back in the car?” Clyde asks after a few quiet moments. “My ass is frozen.”

“Want me to rub it for you?” Craig offers.

“That's what Bebe is for.”

“Sorry, my hands are frozen,” Bebe says. “It'll have to be Craig.”

“I'll take one for the team,” Craig says solemnly. “It was a lot more fun when Clyde had an ass. I'll touch where his ass used to be.”

“Fuck you,” Clyde huffs, and they hurry back to the car, which thankfully, is still warm.

“Okay,” Craig says once they're seated. He leans forward and swipes at Clyde's phone, but Clyde recoils. “Your music sucks, dude, let me pick.”

“No! Passenger picks the music!” Clyde yelps, dodging more of Craig's swipes. “Bebe! Tell him!”

“I'll fight you for the passenger seat,” Craig says, and he makes to climb over, but Token pulls him back, laughing.

“Your ass is in my face,” Token says, and Craig makes a kissy face at him.

“Yeah, fuck off, Craig. I'm gonna play some nostalgia,” Clyde says, scrolling through his phone, and Craig groans, dreading to think of what Clyde will torture them with.

A familiar tune fills the car as Bebe pulls away from Stark's, and Craig laughs at the same time Token and Bebe do.

“Oh, my god,” Token says, and Craig meets Tweek's eyes, is happy to see Tweek smiling.

“MCR is back together,” Clyde informs them, turning in his seat to face them while his hand turns up the song. “Big things are happening.”

“MCR sucks,” Craig says, but that doesn't stop him from belting out the words to “Famous Last Words” like it's his personal power ballad. Everyone sings along, though it's more like shouting, especially after the second verse starts. Tweek is laughing so hard he's crying, though he's shouting along with them. Craig remembers when this CD came out, and they would all listen to it together, Craig hating on it the entire time. It seems like ages ago when they were that small, Stark's Pond seemingly huge in comparison. Their whole lives were ahead of them.

Things are different now, so different, but Craig doesn't hate all the changes. In fact, he likes some of them a lot, but it never hurts to go back and be a kid again, if only for a little while. It's true when people say you can't go home again, but that's only if you think of home as a place.

Clyde goes on to play “The Thong Song”. He pretends he's holding a microphone, closing his eyes as he screams, “She had dumps like a truck, truck, truck!” Craig does his best to tune it out, tries putting his foot on Clyde, but of course Clyde screeches like a little bitch, so Craig gives up and turns to Tweek instead.

“You good?” he asks, though he knows Tweek is, because Tweek is still smiling, and his eyes are bright even in the darkness of the car.

“Yeah,” Tweek says, nodding. He blinks in surprise when Craig's hand wraps around his, but Tweek doesn't pull away, and he gives Craig a shy smile. Craig thinks again of good changes already happening, and maybe better things yet to come, and he hopes years from now, they'll all look back on this night and laugh.

[zeroviraluniverse-blog]

Apple HomePod, Amazon Echo, Google Home and more: We put 7 speakers to the test

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Apple HomePod, Amazon Echo, Google Home and more: We put 7 speakers to the test

Image caption Amazon’s Alexa director Daren Gill has called voice “the next great interface”

For the last four weeks, I’ve been living in an Orwellian nightmare. One in which I have to watch every word I say because “they” are always listening. And by “they”, I mean Alexa, Siri and Google.

It seemed like a good idea – get seven smart speakers and test them in a real house to see how they affected our listening habits and daily routine.

At times, they’ve been pretty helpful. If we’re running low on biscuits, one of us can bark, “Hey Siri, add Hob Nobs to the shopping list” and a reminder appears on our phones.

During Storm Emma, Google kept me up-to-date on train cancellations, while our kids amused themselves for hours by asking Alexa what noise a cat makes.

Thankfully, none of the devices started spontaneously laughing in the middle of the night – but they were all prone to bouts of madness.

I once asked Alexa “what’s the weather in Yemen” and got the reply: “‘Das wetter’ is German for ‘the weather’.”

And when I told Google to “play music in the kitchen”, it responded by streaming Lee Brice’s Songs In The Kitchen to a speaker in the dining room (congratulations, Lee, on your new royalty stream).

To find out which smart assistant was the smartest, I put each of the speakers to the test – posing 50 random questions on music, sport and general knowledge. Like all good quiz show hosts, I only accepted their first answer.

Alexa fared best, with 37 correct answers, followed by Google on 32, and Siri, which scored a lowly 27.

Apple’s assistant was hobbled by its lack of integration with other apps – meaning it couldn’t read my calendar or look up recipes.

When it came to music-related queries, however, Siri had more success.

For instance, the HomePod was the only speaker that could parse the command “play the James Bond theme next”. Its competitors all tried to find a song called “James Bond Theme Next”, failed, and gave up.

You can find the full list of questions, and how the speakers responded, here.

As you’ll see, none of them are perfect (never ask for music by Haim in an Northern Irish accent) but smart speakers look set to replace the smartphone as the tech giants’ biggest growth products.

Choosing the right one can be tricky. So here’s our guide to the speakers, and how they might fit into your lifestyle.

Apple HomePod (£319)

Image copyright Apple

Apple has arrived late to the smart speaker market, but not through laziness.

The HomePod has been in development since 2012, and boasts a unconventional design – with seven tweeters (the speakers that produce treble) arranged in a circle to project music into every nook and cranny of your house. The bass is also punchy and well-balanced, even at low volumes.

I found it worked better with acoustic, singer-songwriter material. Playing Regina Spektor’s Samson, the HomePod championed the singer’s vocals without losing the detail in her piano work. On a busier song like Stevie Wonder’s Superstition, however, it struggled to pick out the star’s intricate drumming.

It’s also an incredibly insistent speaker – demanding your attention with a very “forward” soundstage. We found that was great in the hustle and bustle of a family kitchen, but less attractive when listening to music in bed at night.

One important note: You can’t set up the HomePod unless you have an iPhone or an iPad. The speaker is then tethered to that device and certain functions, like updating your shopping list, only work when they can “see” each other.

HomePod is also completely loyal to Apple Music. You can’t ask Siri to stream from Spotify or Deezer – although you can access them on your phone and beam them to the speaker.

Best for: Apple enthusiasts; audiophiles

Amazon Echo Plus (£139)

Image copyright Amazon

If you want a speaker that comes with a free light bulb, then Amazon’s Echo Plus is your only choice.

The speaker aims to be a “home hub”, controlling all sorts of connected devices, from your lights to your kettle. I wasn’t able to test those abilities, though, as the BBC budget didn’t stretch to buying me remote control curtains.

As a music player, the Echo Plus is competent but unspectacular – but it’d make an ideal replacement for a kitchen radio.

Alexa will happily stream from Spotify and Deezer, as well as Amazon’s own Music Unlimited service – which you get at a discount if you purchase an Echo device.

It’s particularly good at finding the music you want, even if you have a terrible memory. I managed to get Alexa to cue up Girls Aloud’s Love Machine by asking, “What’s the song that goes, ‘Let’s go, Eskimo?'”

One word of warning: Amazon’s streaming service doesn’t have a parental filter, so you’re stuck with the explicit versions of the songs in their catalogue.

And now that Amazon has leased Alexa to other speaker manufacturers, there are better devices in a similar price range.

Best for: Casual listening, smart assistant abilities

Ultimate Ears Megablast (£199)

Image copyright Ultimate Ears

The Megablast is a long, tall cylinder of fun, available in a range of colours (our review unit was a lurid yellow, which I became weirdly fond of).

It gives out a bassy, fulsome sound; which goes up really, really loud without losing any finesse. You can use Alexa to play songs from Amazon Music Unlimited (but not Spotify yet), or simply use it as a bluetooth speaker to stream music directly from your phone.

Best of all, you can unplug it and take it to a party, with a generous battery life that means you won’t be left tuneless when the clock strikes midnight. And it’s waterproof, so it won’t go kaput if you spill your drink.

On the downside, the microphone is poor at picking up your voice commands – especially when music is playing. And the charging port is awkwardly placed at the bottom of the speaker, meaning it has to be laid on its side when its plugged in, ruining the sound. (Ultimate Ears sells a separate charging dock, pictured above, for £35 if this is a deal-breaker).

Best for: Portability, volume

Sonos: One (£199)

Image copyright Sonos

Sonos are masters of multi-room audio, but the One is their first foray into smart speaker territory.

There’s an intriguing set-up, where you’re asked to wave your phone around the room while the unit emits a series of sci-fi bleeps and bloops.

This helps the speaker adapt to its environment and, to be fair, it performed admirably in our cluttered bedroom, with a weighty, dynamic delivery that belied its tiny size.

Superstition, which confounded Apple’s HomePod, sounded bright and lively, with a deep, funky bass and plenty of breathing room for Stevie Wonder’s vocals.

Best of all, Sonos welcomes all music streaming services – with 49 currently available in the UK, including Apple Music (not all of them can be controlled by Alexa, though).

You can also chain two Sonos speakers together to get stereo, while the Sonos app is the only one that allows you to tweak settings like treble and bass to tailor the music to your tastes. And if you buy multiple units, you can scare your family by playing ghost noises in the attic while you’re in the kitchen.

One small niggle: Sonos has programmed Alexa to speak over the start of your music, so you constantly miss the first five seconds your favourite album.

Best for: Stereo, choice of streaming services, multi-room audio

Google Home (£129)

Image copyright Google

It looks like an air freshener. An air freshener on the Starship Enterprise, but an air freshener nonetheless.

Still, I was quite enamoured with the Home’s sleek, matte white finish and the easygoing, friendly voice of its virtual assistant.

It transpires that her dialogue was written by Emma Coats, a former Pixar employee who drew up the film studio’s 22 rules of storytelling – which explains why Google feels more engaging than its competitors.

There are a few neat touches to the AI, too. When you ask Google to “flip a coin”, for example, you hear the sound of a coin being tossed before learning the result. Even better, the Google Home enables you to make voice calls to any UK landline or mobile number – for free.

Sadly, though, the device isn’t up to much as an actual speaker. It had the worst sound of all the units we tested, and was prone to distorted bass even at low volumes.

Best for: Personality, design

JBL Link 300 (£249)

Image copyright Harmon Kardon

Luckily, fans of Google’s voice assistant have some alternatives. Sonos are promising a Google-enabled speaker later this year and JBL will release their Link 300 in the next couple of weeks.

It’s a chunky little device that works best on pop and hip-hop, with an eloquent sound that emphasises the low end thanks to a circular resonator on the back that pumps out the bass.

One neat feature is a wi-fi light that shows the strength of your internet connection (something I’d like to see on more devices, given the patchy wi-fi in our house).

In the end, this became our go-to speaker in the living room and kitchen, despite an infuriating five-minute fight to make it play the Hamilton soundtrack.

It turns out you had to say “OK Google, play ‘Hamilton: Original Broadway Cast Recording'” – a command that’s as intuitive as a lead wetsuit.

Best for: Google smarts with better sound.

Amazon Echo Show (£199)

Image copyright Amazon

The Echo Show has a 7-inch screen, which displays song lyrics while you listen. It’s a bit of a gimmick, but it was a big hit with our kids.

The device also came in handy in the kitchen, where we used it to display recipes and set timers without having to touch the screen with our sticky fingers.

All this functionality comes at the cost of sound quality, though. Don’t expect anything beyond your average clock radio.

Best for: Karaoke night

Secret option eight: Don’t buy any of them

Image copyright Getty Images

Here’s the thing: With the possible exception of Sonos: One, you’re not getting true hi-fi sound with any of these devices.

If you’ve already got a good home stereo, it’s much cheaper to buy an Amazon Echo Dot (currently £39) and hook it up to your existing set-up with a simple cable.

Similarly, if you’ve got £300 to spend, you can get a decent hi-fi system and an Echo Dot with money to spare.

That way, you get all the benefits of voice control and music streaming without breaking the bank.

Best for: People who’ve already got speakers and have privacy concerns about this whole thing.

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