The screen to Stan's phone lit up with slight vibration for the fifth time within the past hour. He was dodging calls from his friends and girlfriend as he sat quietly in the darkness of his bedroom, a bottle of vodka in hand.
Static filled his head, with the occasional flashbacks causing him to grip tightly onto the bottle in his hand. He couldn't make them stop. He couldn't distract himself from the memories, or the haunting sounds that filled his ears from the night of his accident. All he could do was live through the torment, no matter how unbearable it seemed.
The curtains had been closed for days now, and Stan hadn't seen the sunlight since. He'd probably cower away like an exposed vampire, or his eyes may even burn from the contrast.
He and the other two had been granted time from school to recover, however, rather than recovering, Stan indulged in the reckless side of drinking, until he'd finally pass out. His living nightmares followed him throughout sleep, even with the alcohol in his system.
It was late afternoon as Stan sat up in bed, surrounded by empty beer tins he'd taken from his dad's stash. They lay on the floor, under clothes and scattered across his bed, but to Stan, they weren't there.
He'd hardly noticed when his bedroom door opened, with Wendy frowning at the mess he'd created. Her sheet of black hair rested just below her shoulders as she glanced at her boyfriend disapprovingly. Despite the clearing of her throat, Stan's hopeless eyes remained on the clear bottle in his hands, and the non existent smoke that filled the room, caused his bloodshot eyes to water.
Allowing her bag to slip to the floor, Wendy pulled both her gloves off as she stepped closer towards Stan's bed. As she sat beside him, with her back pressed against the headboard, the same way her boyfriends did, she reached across the take the bottle from Stan's grasp to inspect the label.
Only now did Stan look at his girlfriend, with his head slowly turning to watch as she held the bottle close to her face to read the ingredients. His trembling hand rested on her knee as he let out a shaky sigh, and when he spoke through chapped lips, his voice was hoarse. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Wendy says as she placed the bottle on the floor, away from Stan's reach. When her eyes met his, a warm and gentle smile spread across her face, and as Stan admired the girl before his eyes, he knew how lucky he was to have her. "I know how hard this is for you, and I'm here. I'll always be here."
-
A month had passed since Kenny's awakening. A month of sleeping on a hospital bed, and eating hospital food. Today however, he was being discharge, and as he childishly played around with the wheelchair he'd been granted to support his still healing legs, he realised he no longer had to pee in a bed pan.
Despite the nurse telling Kenny not to tug on the wheel, he did so anyway. It squeaked with every turn, making him feel self aware whenever he'd pass people, and though he'd complained about it numerous times, he was told he'd have to make due with it.
His dad was busy signing papers, so to amused themselves, Kenny chased after Karen on his wheelchair, encouraged by her squeals and giggles. Again, they were told not to be so loud, but Kenny was being released, so he didn't care.
Seeing his little sisters toothy smile, meant the world to Kenny. There was nobody in the world that he cared for more, and after her lullaby brought him back to consciousness, there was nobody else he'd ever care for, as much as he cared for Karen.
-
After more time had passed without contact from anyone, aside from his parents, Tweek's depressed state had improved slightly. He was no longer overwhelmed by the flood of memories, and now, he spent his days alone in his bedroom, similar to Stan. He listened to music with the windows wide open, allowing the cold air to fill the room. It relaxed him. Helped to clear his mind. He'd even once again picked up a pencil, finding the motivation to create art during his lowest time. He withdrew passion from his hurt, with his work showing exactly that.
The music was on constantly. Throughout the day, and the night. During the morning hours, he played the tunes out loud, and at night, he wore his earphones, tiredly blinking up at the ceiling as he focused on whatever song was playing.
Sleep was hard to find lately. It seemed just out of his grasp as his heavy eyelids fought to remain open during the darkness of the night. Tweek didn't want to sleep though, he wanted to think. He wanted to feel the pain of Craig's rejection, over and over again, until he could convince himself that the guy he'd been fixated on for so long, was no longer worth it.
But no matter how hard he'd emotionally abused himself, there was always apart of Tweek that thought the world of Craig. And he was afraid there always will be. His mind unintentionally placed Craig on a pedestal so high, that he was one with the stars and the planets he adored.
There was always apart of Tweek that was going to crave Craig Tucker, and for that, Tweek tormented himself with a lack of sleep. He tormented himself with the memories of his best friend, because in Tweek's eyes, he was never going to have Craig. Not completely. From the start, he'd realised having feelings for Craig was going to be hard, but what he didn't realise, was that he'd overcome the hardest part of it.
Now, Craig was on the path to self discovery. He was so close to self acceptance, and if Tweek knew about the progress he'd already made, the torture would surely come to an end.
Tweek's mind wouldn't allow himself to get over Craig. It would however, allow himself to falsely suffer in the pain of knowing he could never have Craig. Because now, as Craig lays in bed, awake at night, trying his hardest to get a response from Tweek's ignored messages and phone calls, Tweek was severally unaware of his change of heart.