It's the final countdown {complete!}

6

Five minutes and three seconds until I die. Wow.

Somehow I'm not panicking. I'm just... calm. I guess there's no point in panicking since there's nothing I can do about it, but even so I feel like I should be reacting differently.

Craig sits up suddenly and climbs on top of me.

"Since your dad can't give you money, can I give you a hickey?" He asks, "I've waited months and I've never been able to give you one."

"Fine," I push my shirt collar out of the way and turn my head, "is this okay?"

"It's perfect." He mutters into my ear, bending down to press his lips against my skin.

My face heats up as he runs his fingers across my crotch briefly whilst marking my skin. He flashes a sexy smirk when a breathy moan slips through my lips.

Butterflies fill my stomach as Craig's fingers slowly drag up my thighs and towards my crotch again. If I was Stan Marsh, I would've puked by now.
It feels like a lot of butterflies. I don't know if this is normal.

"Is this okay?" He asks, as if he can hear my thoughts.

"It's perfect." I quote his earlier response.

Gently, he bites my collar bone and I gasp.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" He jerks backwards, "is it happening?"

"No no, I'm fine," I reassure him, "it just felt good."

"It did?"

"Yeah. It did."

Experimentally, he bites again and another moan slips out.

"Wow. I wish I'd known this a few months ago. We could've had more fun on your birthday." He grins.

"Craig, we were not going to have sex on my birthday." I roll my eyes.

"If I'd known about the collar thing then we would've."

"If you'd known about the collar thing my dad would've killed y-"

I'm cut off by a sharp pain in my chest.

"Ow," I sit up and almost knock Craig over, "sorry! I just had a random pain. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Babe, I promise you I'm alright."

Craig puts two fingers on my inner wrist to feel my pulse.

"Your heartbeat is irregular. How much coffee have you had recently?"

"Uh..." I try to think of all of the drinks I've had in the past few days, "a lot?"

"Right, okay," he releases my wrist, "it's probably the caffeine then. But are you sure you're fine?"

"Craig. I am 100% fine. Totally alright."

He gives me a skeptical look, but doesn't push any further.
Before he can even continue pleasing me, I'm in pain again. This time, however, it's at least ten times worse.

When I go to clutch my chest, Craig rolls off me and grabs his phone. As I curl into a ball, he calls 911.

"C-Craig," I manage to cry out, "don't bother. It's h-happening, I can fee- oh Jesus Christ- feel it."

He drops to his knees beside me.

"Honey, I'm calling an ambulance. You need help."

"I'm dying, Craig" I whimper, "there's no point."

"They might be able to like... CPR you back to life, or use the... the electric things. The defibrillator guy."

"They can't, I'm d-dying."

"I want to at least try, Tweek."

He gets to his feet and gives our location to the 911 operator.

By now, the pain is constant and unbearable. My breaths are coming out in quick pants and I'm curled up so tightly my knees are touching my chin. I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my teeth together.

"Craig!" I shout. He drops his phone to the floor and drops to his knees again, "Craig, I love you."

"I love you too, honey."

And then, the pain stops.