I Kissed A Girl
The fast food kid’s area is loud. Not because of the kids, their small heads are quietly watching the actual culprits making all that noise. Tweek witnesses the scene from afar; Butters and Cartman at the end of the slide, calling for the last two to do something crazy. He just has the time to see Stan sliding down, struggling to get out since it's too small for his size, before Kenny whoops and crashes into him. Their laughter and the insults echoe in every corner of the place.
“Actually, can we take out, please?” Kyle asks when the fast food worker comes back with their drinks and fries.
“Sure,” she says with a tired face before a loud thunk erupts, causing her attention to shift on the kid area.
Another round of weird noises follows. Almost like a body is being banged against a wall and it brings another member of the staff to stride over there.
“Excuse me! You have to leave the restaurant!”
Kyle and him watch their friends running out of the place - Kenny quickly jogging back inside to steal a bunch of balloons.
“We aren't coming back here,” Kyle mutters exchanging a look with Tweek.
The two of them lost the rock-paper-scissors game so they had to order food for everyone and bring it to their table. Well, now to the car, since the staff definitely won’t allow them to sit inside. Though they are used to eating outside so they will survive. The snow hasn’t settled on imprisoning the town but probably in a few days.
Kyle hasn't explained much to Tweek why he nor Stan answered to him last night, outside of saying they fell asleep watching a movie at his place. It’s an obvious lie but Tweek doesn’t push in case Stan and Kyle’s friendship is still shaky. He would probably know sooner or later. Kyle likes to digest stuff before talking about it and Tweek perfectly understands the feeling.
“I think Butters is into Kenny,” Tweek mentions when their take-out bags are almost ready.
“Good news for Kenny,” Kyle replies, slightly distracted, checking on what food is missing.
“No but like— he doesn’t think so.”
He glances at him. “Well, nothing changed from what I can see. If you ignore Kenny’s existential crisis when Butters touches him.”
“Uhm— do you think that Butters -ngh- was always that touchy?”
“He was.”
Tweek hums. “Even so, last night it was definitely not some friendly touching,” he explains and Kyle encourages him to continue with an arched eyebrow. “They were glued against each other, whispering when, I mean, I was also right here so they could have added me in the conversation—” Tweek almost adds ‘like you and Stan do’ but he doesn’t want to be kicked.
“Kenny was always Butters’ favourite, remember when he had to go to Hawaii? He said he was the only decent guy around and we were twelve. And Kenny was pretty sweet on him too, he would invite him to our hangouts without asking us before.”
“Right,” he utters with a frown, “I forgot about that. Still– it’s obvious that they are into each other, right? Even if Butters is kind of naive, he would see if someone was about to kiss him and what it means.”
“You sure they didn’t talk about it? By text or something,” Kyle asks, sharing the bags of food between them. He thanks the worker with a polite smile and a nod which Tweek vaguely mimics.
“I don’t know, I think Kenny would have told us,” Tweek bitterly points out as he realizes with his previous chats with his friend that it might not be the truth. “I don’t know.”
Kenny has always been more independent when it comes to his problems. But sometimes he showed up in the middle of the night to spill. Tweek wants to believe that they would have spoken about it by now.
“You know how Kenny is,” he replies, holding the door open for them two to step out. “A stubborn bitch.”
It’s a comfortable habit to settle down with food and simply watch the rest of the world moving around them. Most of the time they are too rowdy to eat inside – hence why they snatch balloons to pass around with kicks or whacks to have something to do beside the food.
Tweek’s body has been intoxicated long enough to lose that feeling of being cold. It could also be the side effect of overheating easily - probably because of the meth too. His friends always tell him to wear scarves, hats or jackets because Tweek makes them shiver. Most of the time he only makes the effort to take a sweatshirt. It’s comfy and he likes to sink into the softness of the tissue. They shouldn’t worry that much, Tweek is pretty sure he never had a cold in his life.
Kicking just in time the red balloon floating close to him before it touches the ground, Tweek munches on some fries.
“So, when are you going to kick Davíd’s ass?” Cartman interrupts their crafty dinner with a mouthful of his burger. He is settled against the car on the pavement and his words are intended to Stan by the look of it. “I need to organize the bets.”
“Why would I do that?” Stan replies, hesitating on taking a bite on his veggie burger but doesn’t look at him.
He snorts and points at him and Kyle after loudly sucking on his finger tainted with condiment. “Because you two faggots are fucking now.”
Tweek glances at them in silence to have a proper look at them two. Their knees are touching but that's very common, they are always touching and Tweek remembers when he started hanging out with them how he couldn’t stop noticing it. He awkwardly shifts on the car he is sitting on as no one adds anything. Butters, next to Kenny, blinks at them and smears a bit of ketchup on his cheek. The two super best friends stay silent and share a look.
“What?” Kyle says and his tone skims boredom. Stan glances at Cartman but he turns back to his fries, with his knee still glued against Kyle’s. “Why are you coming up with that?”
“I saw you two getting in your house last night holding hands and kissing,” he dryly replies with a mocking smile decorated with gravy. “Stan puked.”
Stan’s neck almost snaps in his panic as when he looks up, completely red and articulating around his spite.
“I didn’t puke!” He argues. His face just continues to burn, looking hot enough to melt the snow if there is even any, and he loudly shuts his mouth.
Kyle closes his eyes in an exasperated manner even when he turns back to his food as if he never replied.
“You guys are together?!” Butters chirps with wide cheer. Kenny’s own smile is more sly. “Congratulations fellas! I’m so happy for you!”
Tweek gapes at them and waits for a second that they argue. “Really? That’s not a joke?!”
“Fucking— urgh, no it’s true,” Kyle confesses, more to his food, with a frown. His cheeks quietly follow Stan’s shade and it breaks his grumpiness. “We are together.”
The two newly boyfriends avoid each other's gaze which is hard when they appear to only be able to look at each other.
“Since when?” He shrilly asks.
Kyle shoots a conflicted look at Butters who keeps cheering and congratulating them, even if it’s only between Kenny and him. Tweek wonders if it wouldn’t be better if they just ate by themselves somewhere else.
“Finally, guys,” Kenny joins with a bright grin, “now you two can fuck and stop being whiny little bitches.”
“Shut up, Kenny,” Stan embarrassingly groans out while Kyle flips him off with equal distress.
“Kahl is still a bitch— I mean dating another guy just after you broke up? Slut .”
“Shut up, fatass!” Stan barks at him and certainly for the better since Kyle looks ready to crush Cartman’s neck in a hand.
“Poor Davíd,” Butters comments as if Stan isn’t just right here.
“Oh my God, shut the fuck up Butters,” Cartman says.
Tweek realizes its bite is weaker than usual. Perhaps because he knows about Kenny’s feelings for Butters and his lethal skills. Cartman has always managed to know stuff he isn't supposed to; Tweek fears the day he will be able to read minds and know everything he thinks about Craig.
“It’s great that you two talked,” Tweek opts to say, trying to cheer without talking about them finally solving their sexual tension worth of years.
Stan shoots him an almost ecstatic smile that would make you think he has never seen anything sad in his life. Kyle would have replied, if Cartman isn’t doing a poor imitation of Tweek’s words.
“Cartman, I swear I will kill you! And you better not tell anyone!” He threatens.
“It’s a secret?” Kenny frowns, stopping his bite in his burger. “Why?”
He is glued against Butters ‘for the sake of being warm’ under the latter’s baby yellow jacket. Tweek is the smallest now that Butters had a surprising growth spurt. If Kenny said ‘no homo’ while sucking a dick, Tweek would believe it more than this poor excuse.
“Why?”
“ ‘Cause it’s South Park,” Stan replies and Tweek nods in agreement.
“Everybody will know about you two in less than a week,” Kenny comments.
“What’s wrong with that?” Butters quietly wonders.
Tweek wants to ask him if he isn’t brainwashed or something.
“One week of peace is nice,” Kyle explains while either he or Stan erases the distance between them - knees forgotten to instead full contact from their shoulders to their feet. The colour of their cheeks aren’t only from the cold.
“Whatever slut,” Cartman taunts and imiitates a gagging noise.
Tweek realizes that their eyefucking will not decrease, at all , and hastily focuses on his food.
“If you talk Cartman I’m going to put your mom and Clyde’s dad together,” Kyle warns with a glare.
“What?! You fucking Jewish shit!”
Kenny bursts out laughing while Butters fights his own. Tweek forces himself to eat to not show his amusement.
“I swear I will make them fuck if you start being an asshole.”
Stan snorts and bumps into Kyle as if they aren’t already into each other’s space. Just as fast as they return to longingly stare into each other's eyes - Cartman snarls low insults.
“Fill your mouth with food or it’s going to be my fist, Cartman,” Stan warns, quicker than his boyfriend.
Kyle grants him with one look of love—probably. Tweek has no idea how to decipher that kind of gaze. But fuck they are almost cuddling their heads together and he hasn’t even finished his burger.
Kenny barks out another loud laugh, pleasing Butters who giggles, while Cartman swears they won’t stay together for long as he flips them off. Tweek almost frowns at them, starting to feel like he is outside a joke, when they look at each other to laugh harder. They are awful and oblivious and Tweek wants to smash their heads together because they are starting to be like Kyle and Stan a year ago.
Although– if these two finally found each other then there is hope left for Kenny and Butters; Tweek just has to figure out what to do to get rid of their unsaid love. Sometimes, their lives feel like a freaking TV show and only Tweek has to deal with it.
He is happy for Stan and Kyle. They are obviously happy and Tweek can’t wait to corner Stan to hear the full story, probably tomorrow if he can help. It leaves him in a good mood for the rest of the day and even when he has to go to class. Everyone actually seems to be in a good mood, even Davíd seems fine which is a relief and talks to Kyle like the usual. Tweek thought that he is a pretty decent guy and he is happy to know it’s the truth.
It should have stayed like this, on a good note. He isn’t even stressed about the play who has asked him to play the piano for them but it’s the last thing on his mind when he spots Craig, in the corridor, talking with Kyle.
“—that's why I think at that moment you should pause in that part-”
Tweek can’t hear Annie and doesn’t even care about it. His eyes have taken over his whole focus. He never likes it when unexpected things happen, or any type of changements. If Tweek wanted to change his cereals or favorite snacks he would ask. That means he has to adapt—which he is capable of but he has a limite over how much bullshit he can take.
So, yes , Tweek can worry when he sees Craig and Kyle chatting not far from his locker. It’s Friday, which means Tweek should go practice his piano for the school’s play. He should probably be there already but Annie wanted to go over some stuff so he waited for her at his locker.
Then he saw Craig stopping Kyle in the corridor to talk. It’s not a crazy sight, maybe a bit because Craig Tucker mostly stays with his group of friends or at least more than often it’s people who come to him but rarely the other way around so Tweek really can’t figure out what it means and how to slow down his brain from exploding. Craig. Went. To. Kyle.
He is too far to hear what they were talking about. They are acquaintances, maybe ‘friends’ - but for Craig to seek someone outside of his group it’s rare. Tweek is certain of that, probably shouldn’t but somehow, he is always assured about ‘Craig stuff’.
For what reason would he need to talk to Kyle? If it’s about their science class then Tweek should also be a part of it, right? They are in the same class, after all. It seemed like Kyle had been heading toward Tweek’s locker— so what could bring Craig to stop him on his way? He could have waited until Kyle joined Tweek to talk.
Maybe he is into Kyle.
No?
Maybe.
Tweek feels his guts grimacing and something is rotting in his stomach as he frowns at them from afar.
Kyle is his friend. Craig too. Kinda. Kyle is a real close friend, the person that Tweek would call to restart World Of Warcraft or for a building project in Minecraft. Craig is— that weird obsession .
Everyone agrees that Kyle has a great ass; maybe Craig is into it too and hopes to grab it with both of his hands. It would make sense. But everybody knows about Stan and Kyle - the giossips are plausible enough to dissuade some people to even try flirting with one of them. Every single person from South Park is all aware, probably all betting, which makes it a bit stupid if Craig is really into Kyle. He probably doesn’t know that they are officially dating and he even asked Stan about it! It was definitely to figure out if Kyle is open to take.
What if Cartman is right and Kyle is indeed a dirty slut who now has decided to torture Tweek? But there is no way anyone could know about his night dreams about Craig; perhaps Kyle is just a bitch.
No—they are friends. As much as Kyle puts himself in other messes, he wouldn't hurt Tweek purposely. He hopes so. Tweek isn’t sure he would survive that. But obviously, Kyle would reject Craig! No, it couldn’t happen. Maybe if Craig really wanted to piss off Stan. It doesn’t make sense but since when teenagers make sense?
Although Craig definitely knows about Kyle and Stan, he is smart and Tweek knows he enjoys gossip so he might have heard that they are together. They aren’t particularly discreet either. Like this morning when they flirted - cheesy enough for Tweek to almost be jealous. Even Kenny’s teasing and Cartman’s disgust didn’t stop them to shyly exchange knowing glances. It’s not like they even kissed in front of them - if they kissed yet; but they are still all over each other.
But at the exact moment that Tweek wouldn’t mind them being all over each other, even with their tongues, Stan isn’t here. Him and his useless jealousy. Kyle and Craig are still talking. Why are they talking so long? And it is probably not about class, Kyle would be speaking more. Craig is the talker in this. It’s not a good sign. Tweek shouldn't care. It’s the universe showing to him that he should have not continued that Craig addiction.
Right. Maybe it is only that. Just a heads up for Tweek to stop thinking about Craig.
“Hi Annie.”
She pauses on her sentence, smiling at Stan– making Tweek realize that he showed up.
“Hi Stan.”
“Stan,” Tweek gasps and barely faces him because his eyes focus back on Kyle and Craig.
That’s good timing. Although Stan doesn’t seem to notice the thing because he is a complete moron.
“We were talking about the play,” Annie explains with an excited noise from her flyers that she must be happily showing him.
“I saw one of the pra-”
“Stan!” Tweek shrieks. A twitch escapes him and he jerks his head toward the problem. “If you want to -urgh- talk with Kyle before football you should -ngh- go,” he urges with a tight smile.
Stan follows his gaze. He definitely notices them - he could recognize Kyle anywhere. His eyes start to squint.
“What are they talking about?”
Tweek is close to just shoveling him toward them. He could find out if Stan would listen to his stupid puppy side; what was the use of it anyway if not to cling on Kyle. Useless homosexuals.
“Maybe they are talking about a class,” Annie mentions as if Tweek hasn’t already crossed that option. He can’t be pissed at her too, but still grits his teeth.
Just like that Kyle and Craig part away. Not even looking back at each other. Which means that no one checks each other’s asses, or any other things. Tweek realizes he stopped twitching and could let his locker door out of his lethal grasp. His fingers tingle with a muted pain, completely white and itching.
“Hey, don’t you have practice?” Kyle asks, of course, to Stan first, before he even reaches them. His eyes linger on him but unlike Stan he has the thought to not forget about Annie and Tweek - even if it is a simple greeting glance.
“Yeah, I have to go,” Stan confesses like he is sent to war.
Tweek can see that Annie is quietly watching them, probably having many thoughts about their supposed ‘super best friend friendship’. He wants to tell Stan to go if he should go because he is close to kicking them in exasperation—and not because he is still in the dark about whatever was going between Craig and Kyle.
Annie slowly frowns at Tweek while Kyle clears his throat as Stan glances at the ground to bounce on his toes. Their cheeks mirror each other's flaming colour.
“What -ngh- were you talking about?” Tweek blurts out upon the realization nobody around them could work out their gayness.
“When?” Kyle arches an eyebrow losing his previous embarrassment. If Tweek was a dumbass, he wouldn’t have noticed the swift contact of the boyfriends with their arms. Stan hides his hands in his pockets.
“Just right now,” he huffs back, skimming a small shriek, “with Craig.”
Kyle blinks and Tweek almost believes he would tell him it's not his business. “Just the math class.”
“He couldn’t ask Tolkien?” Stan asks and Annie discreetly snorts.
Tweek would glance at her if he didn't already know she is lightly mocking Stan’s jealousy. At least Stan’s comment is useful so Tweek who nods in encouragement.
“I got the top mark on the last test,” Kyle replies with a push of his shoulder against him.
Tweek knows better and frankly they should kiss before he gets sick of their flirting and decides to smash their heads together like kids do with their dolls.
“Only about -ngh- math?”
He isn't brilliant at math. It has been the truth since they started multiplication. Of course, Craig wouldn't think of asking Tweek about math.
“Yeah,”he slowly says with a small frown. “What were you talking about?”
He changes the subject before Tweek could panic that he might guess the reason behind his request for details. If he starts to be paranoid about his feelings being obvious - they will be. His friends are far too curious to let him live alone if they even have the smallest doubt. Not that they would tell it to everyone but Tweek honestly doesn’t want to know whether they would take pity on him, telling him he has a shot with Craig or advising him to move on.
“About the music we are using for the play,” Annie answers with a smile, not only about her drama project. “Tweek thinks it would be too sad to add Say Something.”
“It’s a depressing song,” he insists, hoping to distract Kyle’s probable interest in Tweek’s behaviour.
“That's why it's beautiful!” She retorts. “It’s about despair and pain and-”
“Exactly!”
“And love!”
Stan watchs them. “Well it’s a sad play, right?”
“Yes,” Annie beams.
“You changed the ending,” Tweek complains.
“Because it’s better like that!” She chuckles as if she hasn’t decided to kill all the characters except one. “Titanic wouldn't be as beautiful if there hadn't been an iceberg.”
“Why are you even liking that kind of movie?” Kyle asks and Tweek is relieved he isn't the only one thinking sad movies are just painful.
“They are the best,” Annie assures. She is always trying to bring all of their ‘blond gang’ to go watch depressing movies with them. Tweek avoids them like the plague after he accepted one time and cried for a week about a family’s dog death. He sobbed every time he saw a dog.
Loud voices erupt from down the hall. They all turn to see who is causing the fuss - one of the voices is without question Wendy’s. Soon, her figure stomps after a furious Bebe who is darkly laughing. Tweek immediately gets the feeling he should have gone hiding in the music room a minute ago.
“You know I didn’t mean that !”
“Oh, of course not! Because Wendy is always right! And I should listen to you when you won't listen to me?” Bebe snaps back, stunning Wendy for a bit.
“It’s different!” She replies, not losing a foot between them.
The whole hallway has fallen into silence to watch the show. Tweek hears Annie’s ‘shit’ just as Bebe notices him—and comes right at them. Wendy tries to grab her attention back with a hand but she is pushed away. Stan and Kyle opt together to retreat a few steps instead of letting her have the chance to break them apart.
“No, I’m listening to you now, alright!? I should be after someone else, right? Isn’t that what you said?”
“You know that’s not it-”
“You don’t let me talk so I’m not letting you either!”
“Bebe!”
She has stopped right in front of Tweek and he is hit by hair when she snaps her head to scream at Wendy.
“Because I can’t be that sure!”
“That's— Bebe seriously ?!” Wendy barks and equals Bebe’s glare with her own.
“I said I heard you! Unlike some people!”
Tweek is glad to be ‘jumpy’ or paranoid because it saved his life more than often. But his instincts completely left in the middle of this chaos and he barely has time to look at Bebe’s hand smashed next to his head.
And just like that Tweek tastes her cherry chapstick.
He is convinced Stan let out a panicked ‘what the fuck’ and Annie has a weird high-pitched gasp. Tweek already had his first kiss before, with or without tongue, but frankly he isn't that eager to have more experience. Unless it would be from Craig—once in his life it would be great.
Bebe is awfully strong and the lock of his locker is painfully digging in his back, but not enough to forget that he has lips against his. It’s only a kiss lasting for a second. Wendy violently pulls Bebe away and Tweek almost faints, collapsing again his locker if Annie doesn’t catch his arm.
“Why are you so dramatic?!” Wendy accuses like a slap of thunder.
“I’m the one being dramatic!?” Bebe shouts back. “That’s rich from you!”
She doesn’t even look satisfied in a wicked way. Her body grows stern in a beat, staring at Wendy who holds her gaze, before swiping around to get a hold of Annie’s face and kiss her too. Tweek almost falls when she lets go of his arm.
“Bebe can you be mature for one second!?” Wendy screams, grabbing her, over the myriad whispers blooming through the corridor.
“What!?” She barely turns to look at her. “I am ! I could be with anyone, right?!”
Wendy”s eyes flash with anger. “You don’t let me speak!”
“You are the one who doesn't let me! But oh , I could kiss everybody!” With that, Bebe’s gaze pauses on Kyle and by his eyes widens - he sees it coming.
She grabs him before he can escape and Stan is only hit by reality when her shining lips collide with Kyle’s; who had tried to move away but she got him by his scarf. With a weird throaty noise, Stan pushes them apart without letting it last more than one second. Wendy grabs Bebe by her shoulders but she is swatted away with a middle finger.
“What the fuck, Bebe?!”
Bebe sneers at her, frowning at Stan before letting out a mocking sniff. “Ew, I’m not kissing you,” she haughtily declares and walks away.
“You are impossible!” Wendy screams and follows her.
Kyle is still furiously wiping his mouth with his sleeve when she gets closer to Clyde and Craig, who swiftly puts his friend between him and Bebe. Tweek grimaces and also starts to wipe his lips when he realizes he must have her red lipstick on him.
“You are the one who told me to do that!” Bebe retorts and grabs a blushing girl to smack her lips before stalking away, disappearing with a roaring Wendy.
“What just happened?” Annie asks, not looking as shocked by the event.
“She is going crazy,” Stan exclaims and glances over his shoulders before he settles on Kyle. He shakes his head when he gestures if he still has traces of lipstick on him.
“Well, okay— but why?”
“She tongued me,” Tweek shrieks. “Why?!”
“It’s Bebe,” Stan blandly answers.
“It’s understandable about Kyle-”
“No,” he cuts with a faint glare at Annie, “it’s not.”
“Come with me to practice,” Stan offers and he tugs on his sleeve. “There is no way she is going there.”
Tweek can’t watch their interaction because Annie suddenly gasps at his side. “I have to find Lola for the costumes! Tweek I will text you, alright?” She hastily says with impatient small steps on the same spot. “And we try to talk to Bebe, okay?”
“Uh, maybe,” he croaks.
She smiles at him and at the two indiscreet lovebirds before she leaves.
“Let’s forget about that,” Kyle awkwardly suggests after clearing his throat.
They can still hear exclamations from the direction where Bebe went. Tweek wonders if she is really going on a quest to kiss everyone at school.
Tweek quietly makes his way to the main hall after he leaves Kyle and Stan to go to the latter’s football practice. He needs some water before he can try to focus on his piano. The cherry taste is still here and makes him uncomfortable. He keeps nervously wiping his mouth and checking his hand.
It is empty but not calm, Tweek’s imagination never rationally digests to be in a place normally full of people now suddenly lacking life. Though in a twisted way he enjoyes this sort of environment stuck on pause.
When he reaches the middle row, weak sobs and hasty sniffs reach his ears. His steps hesitate before he purses his lips, quietly reaching the stage. Tweek doesn’t manage to not make the wooden floor creak under his figure - by the sudden silence he guesses whoever or whatever is here heard him.
It is probably not a ghost. They wouldn’t appear in the middle of the day. He briefly suposses it could be Bebe breaking down after her scene and his lips itch at the thought. Though he is familiar with her tears after watching Annie’s sad movies with her. He approaches the storage room available for the students, creeping himself as he slowly pushes the door open with a harrowing creak. The sobs have dissipated, Tweek realizes that it has only started a moment ago by the flashy wet red face of Wendy.
“Hi,” he whispers while a twitch makes its way up and down his body.
Clearing his throat, Wendy lets her hands fall between her knees. “Hi Tweek.”
He watches her wipe out the traces her sadness left on her cheeks. She probably only started to cry because her eyes aren’t that red or puffy.
“Do you want me to leave you alone?”
“No, it’s okay,” she sniffs and rubs her face one last time. “You need to practice for the play, right?”
“Yeah,” Tweek admits and awkwardly stumbles his way to his usual chair to place his backpack. He plays with one of the straps.”
Wendy doesn’t seem to move behind him, maybe to show that she would stay even with his disturbance. He has no idea what to do but going to play after walking on her feels wrong. It’s probably because of Bebe that she is here but Tweek can’t guess if she wants to talk to it or not. He could at least try - if he was in her place he would hate whoever sees him like that but just ignores him.
“I don’t know what happened with Bebe,” he mumbles out, mostly about the kiss but also their fight.
He hears her shoes squeak against the wooden floor. With a glance, he realizes she only put her knees up.
“I think it was—kind of obvious,” she quietly replies until her eyes wander up to him. “She told you about her feelings? For me?”
So Bebe told her. That would mean it’s a rejection, right? Tweek never thought that could happen.
“Yeah,” he confirms with a tight throat.
A sniff erupts but he doesn’t want to see if she is crying again. Tensing and stretching his fingers, Tweek tries to buy more time until he has to choose what to do. It’s not his place, and definitely not his zone of comfort. Wendy and him are friends but not enough to actually be with each other during—sad times.
“Is… is that why,” he clears his throat, “why this happened? Bebe mad?”
Deafening, the silence stretchs until he feels himself uncomfortably shifts and turns around to look at her. Wendy stares at the floor.
“It’s something I said,” Wendy says with a subdued tone. Tweek faintly nods as his hands seek to crawl under his sleeves. “I didn’t tell her I like her too,” she quietly confesses.
He looks at her in surprise and a mute sound leaves him before swallowing down his incomprehension. With slow steps, he reduces the distance and crouches down. Tweek shifts on his tiptoes before taking a deep breath. His eyes don’t leave the space between their sneakers.
“Why didn’t you tell her?”
She shuffles. Her legs unfold to shift into another posture. He sees in the corner of his eyes that she shakes her head.
“I can’t. It— I don’t think it would be right.”
“What?” He perks up at that, retreating his arms in his knitted sweater with anxious tugs when he realizes her eyes are horribly wet. His hands are sweating and tangled in the end of his sleeves.
“Because I have to deal with me , first,” Wendy chokes out before a sob cuts her breath. She curls a hand in front of her face. “I don’t want her to see me like that when we… we should be going on dates and everything.”
Tweek purses his lips and slightly bites it as his leg starts to shakily hop. Stan had told a week or so ago that he talks to her about personal problems; the main explanation why Wendy was already at his side when they went to see him after the Kyle/Davíd debacle. He assumed it was mostly about Stan’s problems because Wendy most of the time looks pretty put together.
He hugs himself with his hands still hidden in his sleeves as he tries to piece words together.
“Is it-” his voice cracks and only comes back when he painfully swallows, “is it that bad?”
“I don’t feel like myself Tweek,” she cries under her breath and her hands roughly part her short fringe to deepen through her hair. “I don’t feel right.”
He frowns, contemplating how she is breathing to fight sobs. Politely grabbing her forearm—Tweek doesn’t back off when she meets his eyes in confusion.
“Don’t stay on the ground, you will get a cold,” he articulates and almost gets a proper smile on her lips. It quickly becomes sad.
She vaguely nods and stands up without his help. Instead of letting her reach for a seat, he kindly tugs her until she follows him out of the backroom.
“I don’t want to see anyone now, Tweek,” Wendy mumbles, clearing her throat when she hears her voice.
He checks if the main hall is properly empty. There aren’t a lot of people who might come by outside from the drama club but he doubts someone will today.
“I know,” he says and can’t be more honest. “Piano helps me sometimes.” Tweek sits down in front of it and nervously signs with his head to show her the empty spot beside him. “I could -ngh- show you some chords if you don’t know anything.”
“I don’t,” she confirms, whipping her face with her hand one last time before joining him. “Does it really help you?”
“Only sometimes,” Tweek explains and plays quietly with one key. “It… It always does something -urgh- but not always enough.”
With a silent nod, she cracks her fingers and stretches them over random keys, brushing one. “The music or to play?”
He is pondering how to make her feel better but he barely knows how to deal with his own thoughts. Wendy looks more in control than him in general; if appearances are to be trusted.
“Both,” he says, “maybe more playing.”
She breathes out a small chuckle. “You play really well, I thought so even when we were kids. Are you planning to continue in college?”
Tweek twitches. “I don't know.”
He does want to. It’s ecstatic when he plays, not everything could reach him in those moments and he wants to hold that forever. Sometimes he even thought that it is it, that’s the thing that makes him, and needs nothing else.
But no matter how much he dreams, thinks, plans—he knows dreams are dreams . Tweek entertains the idea once in a while, not only following the image of his sleepy brain but also how it would be if they were a real band . They are one but it’s only temporary, in a year everyone will go their own way.
“Do you know -ngh- what you want to do after?”
Wendy nods and is about to speak before she laughs in a twisted and unsettling way.
“It’s crazy— I,” she starts to sob and chuckle, “I know what I want to do. Where I want to go and-and I still don’t know who am I.”
His fingers clutch over the keys. Glancing at her, he puts them to rest on his thighs as an obnoxious lump pierces his throat.
“I’m sorry-”
“It’s okay,” she sniffs with the choke of a sob, “it’s not your fault. I’m just letting everything out and you happen to be here. You can play, it will make me feel better,” Wendy assures.
He hums back but doesn’t pick what to play yet. It could be a good distraction if he shows her something easy.
“Sometimes, I-I can’t get through,” Tweek starts pushing the same key over and over. “I can’t get through my head,” he mumbles.
She faintly nods with her cheeks shining with small tears. “It's painful.”
“Yeah,” he nods, “sometimes you get stuck because it’s following you and— and you can’t find the exit.”
His fingers stop on a precise chord.
“I mean that’s how I feel. I know it must be different for -ngh- you.”
“No, Tweek, it’s like that. I understand,” she whispers and shifts closer on the seat. Her weight barely changes his posture. “It’s like that…” Some tears quietly roll down her jaw and drop on the piano. “Sometimes it’s too hard to feel like trying anymore.”
He doesn’t move. A familiar feeling makes its way up when it shouldn’t have—but it digs another hole in the back of his brain. One you could drown in if you look too close.
Once his friends had asked if Tweek ever had any suicidal thoughts; he hadn’t answered. The best answer he can think it’s that he understands why people would do it - but it shouldn’t be his answer.
“It’s not looking like it will be easier.”
“The only thing we are asking for is happiness, right?” She speaks to the piano. With a confident move she throws her head backward, facing the choking lights of the stage. Some of her hair is glued on her face due to the wet salt. “I can’t even choose between pants or a skirt.”
Tweek bites down on his lip, looking away. He doesn’t feel useless - he is and has no idea how to comprehend being uncomfortable to be his own self. It has never paused him in his tracks, he is Tweek Tweak, he likes to play music and has a penis and just tries to enjoy living.
“I cut my hair this morning,” Wendy suddenly breathes out. “Myself.” He acknowledges her raven hair with a timid glance. They are short, barely under her neck but wild around her face as if they don’t know how to look either. It’s not rare for her to change her haircut and he has never believed there was something behind it. “I just snapped this morning. I didn’t want my hair that long or–or I didn’t want to be a girl.”
“Do you want to be a boy?” Tweek whispers, glancing at the distance between their hands. It helps him when his friends hold his hand but he doesn’t dare to do the same.
“No?”
Their gazes met when she— they let their head fall with gravity.
“I don’t know,” they whisper. Before the awkwardness could stretch, he offers to grab one of their hands and he shakily holds it. He has no idea why he is twitching - he starts to want to cry too as Wendy’s tears keep falling.
“I don’t want Bebe to know,” Wendy continues and swallows with a grimace. Tweek purses his lips and blinks to not exactly cry. “I’m so lost. I don’t want to put her through that turmoil too.”
“I get it…”
“I’m supposed to help other people!” The cry echoes and if it has been Tweek he would have hit the piano. “I want to help people to feel good in their skin, with their feelings, with… with–” Wendy pauses with a heavy breath.
They try to choke their sobs but their face twists around all of their emotions keeping a hold on them. Hands tight, Tweek leads his friend with a desperate hug. He puts everything on squeezing and soothing their back with a hand. Wendy is quiet with the tears, not exactly holding back, but maybe they are too exhausted.
Wasting precious fragments of energy into crying only makes it more depressing and worsens the need to scream. Tweek hardly knows how to enjoy a quiet moment without thinking there is something wrong with him to be there - he should be working or thinking about the future and not cry. He isn’t sure it’s the same for Wendy.
“Sorry,” they croak with a wet throat as they pull back. “Don’t cry or we are going to cry for hours.”
The joke makes Tweek snort but not quite enough to ignore the need to wipe his eyes.
“I will show -ngh- you how to play something, okay?”
They nod. “Okay but play something first. I want to hear something nice before I wreck it.”
Wendy nervously grabs a lock of their hair, just getting a touch before letting go. Their small smile only assures him that it is another attempt to lighten the mood.
Tweek returns his attention to the piano with a tight chest. He is unsure where he heads to when he plays.
His fingers follow a pattern and jump to a next one when his thoughts tangle themselves more and more; with a breath he settles on a melody humming along it to not hear the voices in his head.
Tweek wants to tell Wendy to go. Find whatever they need, to get out of the bad place. They could - they are a fighter. But he can’t help. He doesn’t even know how to help himself. His fingers abruptly fall dead.
“I will show you something easy.”
Just a place to start. With many words left unsaid, Tweek shows Wendy a short and simple melody. Something warm to get out of here.
Maybe they happen to share the same thoughts, willing to run away from the trouble. Even if it is alone, but at least peaceful . To be capable of breathing in and out, without the aching feeling fighting back to make it is as foreign as possible. The shadow in their heads quiets down as long as they ignore the whispers underneath but it only grows. When you can’t find any other excuse, you have to press play and face the music.
Teenagers should be the ones growing, awakening what they are. To make dumb mistakes because they are just trying to find out what to do. They shouldn’t feel caged. Fighting to find the right haircut or the single calm thought, this is probably what they should seek out of their tangled guts. It’s a bloody bow that keeps bleeding everywhere and lets no respite.
His lungs feel too small as he helps Wendy to find the right chords. He speaks to her. His head is spinning around his own need to seek comfort. Tweek forgets just how to breathe. Wendy is fighting and he feels like his heart is gasping on the floor, trying to learn how to swim. They want to figure themselves out—is he even trying to help himself? Something eats on him, tears in his heart and squeaks out the pain.
He shouldn’t think about that now. Tweek wants to be a good friend and cheer them up.
“You won’t explain it to Bebe?” He whispers, feeling dumb without a piano under his fingers even if they spent two hours with it. His voice is crankier and more irritable without following a melody.
Wendy spins in the backroom, the backpack in their hand heavy.
“I don’t think— it wouldn’t help. She wouldn’t mock me or be mean and she might want to help,” they confess. “But I don’t want to start a relationship where Bebe would have to help . It’s not fair. To her or me.”
The world still hangs itself from their minds, like a worn-out clock that has no meaning to be there but is too heavy to throw it. At least, Wendy seems to feel lighter but that could be the euphoria of their exhaustion.
“I just think she deserves the truth,” Tweek admits with a tight throat because it doesn’t feel proper to put his word in that. Bebe asked him to help her with Wendy and it worries him if he is biased.
He looks up to meet their puffy hazelnut eyes. Turning away, Wendy takes out their phone and readjusts the scarf around their neck.
“I will drive you home.”
The proposition is soft but in the right tone for Tweek to not look further into it. He is sure it isn't a good moment but he wants to cheer Wendy up by quoting the vine ‘love yourself, accept yourself’.
Tweek must lose consciousness between school and the car because the first thing he sees is his dinner plate. He feels sluggish and tense, if he looked down he would see his disowned heart.
“How was practice, Tweek?”
He blindly looks up to his mother. His aimless fork dangerously hovers around his face.
“What?”
“I was wondering how the play practice was going,” his mother says over a sweet, sweet, diabetic smile. “Do you have fun playing with your friends?”
It’s exactly that. He has fun— fun means working at the coffee shop for Tweek’s parents; but not exactly for Tweek and they know it.
At first, the coffee shop was his good place. The familiar smell of coffee, as crazy as it sounds, was probably the first thing he ever smelled. It isn’t hard to picture his dad bringing coffee to the hospital when his mom just gave birth to him. Probably the whole set up. Growing up with that, knowing each bean brought him to be reassured in the coffee shop. It was his shelter at the beginning.
“It was nice,” Tweek cautiously tells, rolling the crispy chicken on his plate with his knife. “Lot of people are -ngh- working on the play.”
“You should bring your friends to the coffee shop, Tweek,” his father exclaims with a wide smile. “To take a break and savour our fresh co-”
“Yeah, maybe,” he cuts and tries to taste his food. Frankly, he is hungry but can’t seem to swallow anything without feeling overwhelmed.
His mug of coffee is gleaming to make him give up and gulp the whole thing down but he holds back.
“Don’t forget that you work tomorrow, hm?”
Tweek twitchs and for a second, thinks his food is mocking him by looking like a vague smiling face.
“We need to clean the shop to put up the Christmas’ decorations,” Richard continues with a pleased tone. He shares a loving look with his wife. “It worked well this Halloween, maybe we should try to sell special pastries next year.”
“I love the idea,” she agrees.
Tweek decides to glare at his chicken.
“Do you like it, Tweek?”
“I want to have a driving licence.”
He is surprised that the words fly out so easily when all he could feel is stale air.
His parents pause but he doesn’t look up. Tweek wants to avoid their loving gazes when they won’t listen to him.
“Why?” His mother inquires with a bit of curiosity.
This might be reassuring but he also snaps this thought away because they won’t agree like always.
“Because I want to,” he starts and needs to pause because of a violent twitch. His knife clatters on his plate; he has to tighten his grip. “Everyone has it. It’s -argh- useful.”
“But you don’t need it, son.” Tweek twitches at his voice. “And they probably won't let a spaz behind the wheel,” he continues matter-of-factly. His eyes are smiling at his son, who is close to flipping over the table.
“I’m not-” maybe —”I’m not a spaz like when I was a -ngh- kid.” It is hard to talk behind tight teeth and he is worried he might bite his tongue off but he isn’t going to back down. He is sick of their way to keep him here, in South Park, in the family business. “I want to -argh- learn! It will also help you— and the family business,” he hisses with a tortured smile.
He doesn’t like to lie. But lying to that fake smile of his father doesn’t make him feel bad anymore.
Tweek isn’t confident at learning to drive; there were so many risks and his mind is already one when he is just on his feet. But he wants to, to have a chance to go to college and just have control over his life . He should have the right to.Tweek will be damned if in the end he can’t surpass his small fear but at least he will try.
“Are you sure, Tweek?” His mother worries. He attempts to smile with his nod.
“You don’t need a car to go to the coffee shop Tweek. You can find anything in South Park, why would you need a car?” Richard almost jokes.
Nibbling on his lower lip, his eyes dart around the table. His gaze stops only briefly on the family pictures in the back to return to his parents, both staring at him.
“It will be easier with a car to go to college.”
There. He said it. Now he just has to be persistent and wish for them to not be assholes.
“Oh.”
“Well, son,” Richard starts after sharing a look with his wife. “It sure will be useful if you have a business degree.”
Tweek swallows the disappointment. The bile of his nerves is tasteless next to breathing the same air as them. He should have learnt by now.
“I’m not -argh- sure if I want to study business,” he articulates and let go of his cutlery with a twitch. With embarrassment he moves them with a finger to properly rest on the table.
“What would you want to study other than business? There is nothing more useful, Tweek,” his father interjects. It isn’t an exact disappointment in his tone but that’s because he has his host mask on.
“I -ngh- don’t know,” he mumbles. Tweek sharply pinches the back of his hand, with a quick glance he realizes it’s already painfully red. He doesn’t remember scratching at it.
“Tweek, you should be sure before planning. How would your mother and I hold the family business if we did that?”
It is a soft sermon that precipitates a long shot of twitches. With a mutter, Tweek bites on his lip and feels his leg bouncing.
“What is it?” His mother pipes up. “Tweek, baby, if you tear on your sleeves it will stretch.”
“What if I don’t want -urgh- to continue the family business.”
When Tweek looks up, it’s to check if he isn’t dreaming or just imagining it all in his head to repeat. He squints when his father does. With a twitch he glances at his mother who is slightly agape.
“It’s nonsense, Tweek.” Richard isn’t fazed by his son’s glare. As if he would notice anything if it doesn’t concern the coffee-shop.
“It’s not,” he growls, breathing rapidly. Tweek is relieved that nothing is between his hands - like that he could tear on his skin or dig his nails. “I don’t think I want that.”
“But— you love to bake,” his mother argues.
“Yes,” his father agrees, “you will see Tweek. After you finish your adolescent crisis, you will understand.”
He wants to cry—or laugh, probably both if he wasn’t so angry. They aren’t listening. Like yesterday. Like every day. Like every-single-fucking-time .
Why does he even bother? His talk with Wendy made him reconsider for a short second what he wants to do. It wouldn't matter as long as he won't be at a stupid coffee shop full of meth.
“If I killed myself,” Tweek exhales and feels his nerves contracting, “you wouldn’t even care because you will only worry what people will think of you.”
With an odd satisfaction, he watches them– his mother lets go of her fork to gasp, and his father is taken aback enough to pause on drinking his glass.
A smile itches to appear over his sickness, the dizziness of sitting at the same table.
“What are you saying?! Tweek are you out of your m-”
Abruptly standing up, his chair makes a screeching yelp at his strength.
“I said — that you wouldn’t care I killed myself as long as it doesn’t touch the shop! Actually you would name a drink after me, saying it’s for my funerals but you will probably bury me beside the shop like a rat!”
His father flinches and braces himself to frown.
“ Son , think about what you just said. We love you-”
“You wouldn’t care,” he barks back.
Tweek ignores his mom calling for him - with what sounds like tears in her throat. He just goes to grab his shoes and a coat.
When his father shouts at him to not get out of the house, he knows it’s only because he didn’t get to finish his speech to hammer the family business at each sentence.
It’s only when he recognizes the white line painted on the road that Tweek realizes where he is. He exhales, shaking, choking on the anchor in his throat. Without giving himself the chance to cry - Tweek storms in the streets.