Deal with it

17 of November

I like being calm, the song is calming in my opinion. So, deal with it. (Smut ahead. Sorry for not understanding gay sex that well...) BTW. WHO THE FUCK TALKS ABOUT DICK SIZE WHILE FUCKING? YOU ARE VERY WEIRD IF YOU DO. Also... I'm sorry for making Craig so kind... I don't like mean people and I don't like writing people as too mean. So, it's OOC, I know... I'm sorry. Can we pretend he is kinder with Tweek?
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There is silence in the house. Well, the noice of Tweek sipping coffee can be heard but it's no matter for me. It's as silent as he gets, so, I can count it as silence.

I get up to put the lights out. More like put the ceiling light off. I don't feel like putting any other light off. Why did I even get up to put it out anyway? I don't have the energy to get away anyway. So why do it?

The whole realization is so close to making me cry, just a little. If I don't have the energy to do anything, why do I do it? I don't need to bother but I still do...

"W-What are you doing?" Tweek asks, putting his cup to the side.

"Putting the ceiling light off," I say, putting it off just after finishing the sentence.

"Wh-oh, you got them working?" Tweek asks.

He look at the fairy lights, amazed. His smile makes me feel something, just like it always has, he doesn't smile enough.

"Oh, the lights? Yeah, just yesterday. There was this part we hadn't put in," I say.

"Wow."

I sit back on the bed with my book.

"You're *gah* smiling. I'm honored," Tweek says.

"Drink your coffee, you spaz," I say.

There is just a moment of silence before Tweek speaks up,

"What are you reading?"

I show him the front of the book, getting back to it. Surprisingly, I feel him put his chin on my shoulder. When I look over, he is reading with me.

"You're *gah* creeping me out. You don't normally look so happy," Tweek says.

I roll my eyes, turning the page.

"I know this story *gah* you might like- it's in my bag," Tweek says.

There is something about the fact Tweek is as calm as he gets and still he is bouncing like crazy.

I take Tweek's bag, taking the papers that look out of place out there.

"Did you make this?" I ask.

"Maybe," he says.

I look through it fairly quickly.

"Oh. That's really cute," I say.

Tweek keeps sipping his coffee, as if waiting for more to be said.

"I like the idea, I mean, it's not like you, but I like it," I say.

"It's old," Tweek says.