(I would like to start this chapter by saying that I just like to tackle issues while writing. Rather than shying away from a plot that I think of. And I honestly have nothing but huge respect for people that have to live with things like autism or such.)

"So," I say, looking at Clyde.

"No thank you, I'm not going to dance at all," he says.

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

He keeps locking and unlocking his phone, showing clear discomfort with being in the dance... or need to be somewhere else.

"Um... yup, sure, it is, absolutely," Clyde says.

"You can tell me if something is wrong, Clyde, I'm your friend," I say.

"It's more my sister's business than mine, so, I would rather not share," Clyde says.

"You sure you don't want to talk about it? I'm here to listen. Okay?" I ask.

"Token, I'm fine. My sister... you know... she's been in the hospital for a while and I'm looking for updates on her, nothing really," Clyde says.

"Wait, she is in the hospital? Why?" I ask.

"Well, hospital on the therapy side of things. You know. Just, helping her settle into life again after the slip up," Clyde says.

"Oh yeah... didn't she almost die a couple of years ago?" I ask.

Clyde freezes up.

"Y-Yeah. Just got... too drunk," he says.

"I don't really know anything about anything she is going through, sorry," I say.

"Yeah, trust me, the most I know is what she has. I don't know about alcoholism or if it can be, in any way, be linked to anything else," Clyde says.

He is clearly growing more and more anxious as we talk about it. Or maybe the word is uncomfortable with the situation.

"I'm sorry for asking," I say.

"It's fine. My sister being an alcoholic and her... you know... have nothing to do with each other," Clyde says.

"I don't know if your sister appreciates the fact you can't just say autism, she is the one having the problems here," I say.

Clyde nods.

"I swear, it's been so fucking long and I still prefer just calling her special. I don't know, I just feel like the word is putting a label, I don't like it, she has a name and a personality, one part of her is not everything she is," he says.

"You're a good brother," I say.

"Wouldn't call myself one but thanks I guess," Clyde says.

"Is there anything you need to get? I mean, since you're looking at your phone so much?" I ask.

"Not really, I'm just waiting if I get some message from dad about the situation. You know," Clyde says.

"Calm down then. Clyde, your dad will worry about it," I say.

"I guess," he says.

He puts his phone in his pocket.

"So. I thought. I'm continuing this at my house, you know, I told you," I say.

"Are you checking if I'm coming?" Clyde asks.

I nod.

"I mean. Why the fuck not? I can see my dad's message there anyway. Me, you, Craig, Tweek, Jimmy, Kenny, Nichole, Leo, Kyle. Who else?" Clyde asks.

"I guess Stan, Bebe and Wendy," I say.

"Oh shit. Stan and Craig in the same room as each other by choice?" Clyde says.

"Yeah," I say.

After a couple of second of silence, I decide to say something again.

"Clyde," I say.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Try to have fun again, just like when you were 15," I say.

He smiles.

"Of course," he says.

Craig and Tweek come to us.

"I will never dance again," Craig says, with a sigh.

"You were dancing?" I ask, laughing a little.

"Hell yeah he was, with Kenny," Tweek says.

"What kind of dancing? Fucking?" Clyde asks, laughing.

Tweek walks behind Clyde and pushes him into Craig.

"Oh shit, sorry," Clyde says.

He is slightly blushing. Tweek and I high five.

"Oh I'm so sorry. Didn't mean to," Tweek says, trying to act innocent.

I've got to say, when Tweek is full on coffee and doesn't need more of it that minute, he is a fucking amazing guy. He is cool otherwise but he is even cooler other times when he isn't waiting for his dose.

"You two gonna kiss today or some other day?" I ask, looking at Clyde and Craig.

"Are you two gonna fuck off or do I have to force you?" Craig asks.

"Hey, no need to threaten anybody here!" Tweek says, smiling.

"I hate you," Craig says.

"You love us, Tucker," I say.

"You sure about that?" Craig asks.

"Yes," I say.

"Whatever," Craig says.

"See? You love us," I say.

Craig sighs.

"I only love you if you shut the fuck up," Craig says.

"Never," I say.

Craig groans.

"Why are we friends again?" Craig asks.

"Because we are?" I ask.

"And soon we are not," Craig says, his voice dry as ever.

"You would miss us," Tweek says.

He is now holding a (plastic) cup of coffee.

"Where the fuck did you get coffee from?" Clyde asks.

He seems happier, meaning he got the message.

"My life hack to how to sneak coffee to school is to just paint the canister after putting an unnecessary amount of wrapping paper around it. Looks like a pencil case. And teachers think this is water," Tweek says, showing us the cup.

"That's... really smart," Clyde says.

"Thanks," Tweek says.

He takes an another sip of coffee.

"But it's pretty cold because having it hot would be noticeable," Tweek says.

"You could basically get a gun to school like that!" Craig says.

"A gun is a different shape," Tweek says.

"Anyone knows how to build a gun out of the parts!" Craig says.

"I *gah* don't, fuck," Tweek says.

He drinks his coffee again.

"It's actually fairly easy," Craig says.

"Not a chance that you could build a gun in time for the teachers not to see you," I say.

"I do not mean I would, I just said it's possible!" Craig says.