When I Was Young
When the sky turns to a polluted grey, they all climb in the car.
It isn't a rough morning, only bitter. With his parents babbling about how he will manage the coffee shop for the break, that it is not an insignificant responsibility when it is for him while Tweek only dreams about his duck.
“That’s all we have.”
He takes a second to acknowledge the employee before returning to the small diapers. The puppies on the packages look cute with colorful shorts but the size might not be the right one.
“None of this is for a duck,” Kyle complains.
“I didn’t say we have diapers for a duck,” the salesperson replies, tone stepping up to join Kyle’s magnitude, “that’s the only pet diapers we have here.” Tweek ignores the package for purse-sized dogs for another. It would have been easier with Ninky here; maybe he should get one of those dog carriers to keep her around when he is out for long. “Also ducks aren’t indoor pets.”
Kenny snorts and leans against Kyle's shoulder. “We will figure something out. Thanks.”
Someone groans out but Tweek ignores it to read the notice at the back of the diapers. He has never looked after a baby, or anything else that needs a poop container. Maybe he will have time over the break to teach his duck when to do her business and where. He startles at a squeak, turning around to see Stan scrambling away from the pet toys.
“Were you playing with the dog toys, faggot?” Cartman drawls, letting his gaze slip away from his phone.
“I was just looking-”
“Can we just go eat?” He goes on, aggressively texting before kicking a bit at the shelf he is leaning on. “Why the fuck are we in a pet store when we should be at a concert?”
“We told you we were going to buy diapers for the duck.”
“For Ninky,” Kenny recalls and only smiles at Kyle's frown.
“And nobody asked you to come.”
“Yeah, right,” Cartman scoffs, “you think I didn’t see that you tried to leave me behind, asshole? I know your jewish tricks, Kahl.”
“And I would have floored it if there hadn’t been witnesses.”
“I don’t think this will work,” Tweek cuts, flipping the package once again to check the instructions. “I can’t fit Ninky’s butt in the hole for the tail.”
“Maybe the cat diapers are better for the size,” Kyle says. “Cut a bigger space for the tail.”
“What if she is allergic? Like really bad and it burns and I will be arrested for animal a-”
“It doesn’t work like that.” Stan steps in, taking the diapers out of his hands to put it back.
“Can you imagine the torture if your asshole is burning?”
He pauses at that, mouth gaping for a second. “Look, when Sparky-”
“Oh my God,” Cartman wails, “stop talking about your gay dog, it’s been years.”
“Shut up, Fatass, before I kill you,” Kyle venomously hisses with threatening steps.
Tweek watches them readying for a fight, until Stan slips his arm over his shoulders.
“Do they have fishes in here? Maybe I can get one for Karen for Christmas. It’s not that expensive, right?”
“It’s at the left side of the store, near the plants,” Stan replies. Tweek only offers a small smile at his sudden very detailed knowledge. “I was saying that when Sparky was too old to control his bladder, I took shirts from Randy to tie it like diapers. I’m sure we can find some way to do it for Ninky too.”
He slowly nods at the idea. “Yeah, okay. And she will have style.”
“That’s important and I think it’s better,” Kenny agrees. “And a diaper might crush her dick-”
“What?”
“Nobody likes when your underwear crushes your dick and balls.”
Tweek doesn’t find his words that weird which only confuses him further. Kyle has a weird twitch on his face when he turns to face Kenny; Cartman groans and says something about not breathing kibble one more second before walking away.
“I’m not sure if I want to know but— what did you do with the duck?”
Kenny scoffs. “What does that mean?”
“Did you look for Ninky’s dick?” Stan asks with a conflicted frown.
“Excuse me, furry man, I never saw a duck’s dick. And I wanted to check if it was a boy or a girl,” he explains with a shrug. “I didn’t touch anything, just blew on the feathers to see-”
“Are you serious?”
“You blew Ninky?!” Tweek shrieks.
“She didn’t even squirm! Maybe she liked it!”
“Oh my God!” Kyle wheezes and steps away.
“What the fuck Kenny!” Stan adds with a punch on his shoulder. “You did that instead of helping me with the pony?”
“You were totally having it under control,” he retorts. “I’m just saying, now that we are on the subject, we should also think about what happens when Ninky gets horny.”
Tweek closes his mouth without even opening it enough to move a muscle. Kyle glances one last time before turning away with a shake of the head, probably to not kick Kenny.
“We aren’t.”
Kenny purses his lips and gives a small nod. “Well, okay, but don’t surprised if she runs away to get laid-”
“It’s a boy!” Kyle screams from down the aisle.
“Don’t assume gender! Maybe she wants to be a girl!” He argues with a volume that will kick them out.
“You are the one assuming it!”
“It’s not like we can’t ask the duck directly!” Kenny argues. “Wait, no, you know what? We should do this, let’s see what Ninky prefers to be called between boy or girl this weekend.”
“I can get you some of the shirts I used for Sparky,” Stan interrupts, which was a small relief because Tweek doesn’t want to be in the middle of their fight. His nerves are already anticipating their night. Which he would like to not spoil any further than it already is. “It’s not like Randy ever noticed I took them.”
Tweek has clothes that he doesn’t want to wear anymore. And enough guts to not feel bad and steal some of his parents’.
“I can figure out something for the break, it’s alright. I’m just worried when I will be working that she will poop behind the counter, you know? I don’t wanna slip on it when I carry hot coffee. I will get burnt!”
“It’s not going to happen,” Stan assures him, stroking his shoulder. “Tweek, breathe, tonight we are partying. And I know you are imagining every worst case scenario possible but I also know you are totally missing that it can go well too.”
Tweek nods and tries to stifle his smile when he is nudged. He knows his brain is a bit crazy, but the holiday goes on whether he listens to it or not. Stan is right - they might have fun tonight. But Tweek holds a dread close to his heart. With a mumbled agreement, they walk out, ignoring Kyle and Kenny's chatter about their bet and the look the employee throws at their empty-hands.
Tweek clears out his throat at the cold when they get outside, with an eye on Cartman’s angry power walk to barrel his weight against Kyle’s car.
“How was your date, anyway?” He quietly asks.
“Great,” Stan answers right away.
“You both look all neat and glowing, kinda looking high— did you do drugs at the aquarium?”
He snorts and Tweek almost joins when he is trapped between an athletic arm. Just when he is about to thrash out of the grasp, his head is ruffled up by a quick hand. A gasp escapes him but he is still stuck against Stan’s chest. He manages to get out with elbows’ punches but can’t hold his laugh.
“You’re a jerk!” Stan exclaims with a short wheeze.
“You are!” He huffs back, playfully punching his shoulder to scoff. “It’s South Park! We aren’t supposed to be that happy, you know? I—I’m scared for you, alright?”
Stan shakes his head which only tenses Tweek up because he isn’t taking him seriously. “Everything is fine, dude. You don’t have to freak out for us.”
“I’m not freaking out-”
Cartman wails. “Can we go?!”
“I gotta agree, I’m hungry,” Kenny says as Kyle opens his car. “Clyde keeps texting me that the pizzas are already done.”
“What?! He has been ignoring me!” Cartman accuses and grips on Kenny to see his phone. The violent shrugging off doesn’t shove him off. “We have to go! I don’t want to eat cold pizza.”
“You could have just taken your own car!”
“Wait, wait— what the fuck is this in your trunk?” Tweek interrupts, peering through the back window and he tries to open it but Kyle swiftly smashes it back shut. “My fingers! Are you crazy?!” He shouts, cradling his hand like he lost it. “Are you hiding a corpse in there?”
“It’s my car, not yours!”
“It’s just my turtle,” Stan answers.
“Are you kidding me? The aquarium is selling giant plushies, now? It’s Tweek’s size!”
“Hey! I’m not small, asshole!”
“That’s so lame,” Cartman mutters.
“I said giant, not small, right?” He argues.
“Don’t try to be a smart ass—” Tweek pauses when Stan goes to open the trunk. His friends are right though, the turtle almost fills the trunk and is probably more a mattress than a plush. “Can I have it?”
“Dude, no-”
“I want it.”
“We got you a keychain,” Stan answers.
Kenny gasps. “What about me?”
“Yeah, you too.”
“Wait, wait, wait— I don’t want a stupid keychain,” Cartman cuts with a glance at the turtle. “You already have that giant stupid orca and it’s lame.”
“Well, good because we didn’t get you anything,” Kyle deadpans and Kenny snickers, quickly getting his hand away when he smashes the trunk back closed. “And that’s my orca. That’s Stan’s.”
“And that’s lamer.”
“Maybe I should bring Karen to the aquarium.”
“Can I get my keychain?” Tweek asks.
“Everyone just— fucking get in the car before we are late!” Kyle interrupts as he opens his door.
Tweek pushes the cover of the trunk to grab on the head of the giant turtle plush, five minutes in the drive. It lurches against Cartman and he returns his kick over an amused Kenny before he crushes it between his arms.
“Are you training to break someone’s spine by hugging?”
Tweek pushes his head past the turtle’s to see his friend. “Yes,” he replies, huffing back to settle between the door and over-sized fluff.
“I don’t even want your stupid keychain,” Cartman mutters with another about crocs and all.
Kenny does one big short laugh. “You say that because you suuuck and we are the favorites,” he sings with a swat at the turtle to hit Tweek. “And I’m the number one—”
“You are the most annoying.”
“Stop saying stuff like we are your parents,” Stan grumbles from the front. “That’s the weirdest kink you have, Kenny.”
“I don’t listen to furries.”
“Yeah, shut up,” Tweek joins.
“I’m going to crash this car, if you all don’t shut up.”
It is a relief that their groups knew how to merge. Because Tweek isn’t going to do anything to help. His focus is on ignoring Craig, but also to give him a clear idea that he better not even try to talk to him. Which isn’t a difficult request since they don’t talk in the first place. Nothing to be bitter about.
They aren’t friends. Tweek has just forgotten it along the way of obsession.
“If you two want to fight, just go,” Jimmy cuts with an edge of amusement. “That would be a good distra-dis— show until we get the pizzas.”
“You told us to hurry up because the pizzas were ready” Cartman hisses without even blinking away from Clyde.
The latter half-returns the glare but often turns to his phone. “I told you it’s not me.”
“Who the fuck would buy me stupid crocs except you?!”
“I didn’t!” Clyde argues, smashing his phone on the table.
“You did!”
He gasps, hands flying to his chest. “I swear it wasn’t me! I’m not your Secret Santa Cartman!”
Tweek scoots one more inch away to not get Craig’s stupid face right in front of him; karma made up this stupid seat plan. He can’t even go further except getting on Kenny’s laps. If Tweek had insisted, he could have sat between Stan and Kyle - just to be distracted by them trying to reach for each other when he is in their way. Their hands are barely away at the prospect of one week without seeing each other.
“He would have switched with someone,” Token comments.
“Yes, exactly, thank you!”
“Who the fuck bought me crocs?” Cartman growls with a mean look. Tweek tugs on his wild fringe to not look up from his phone. The cut in it is probably not noticeable if they don’t know that it was made. “It’s not the Jew because he is a selfish asshole…”
“I would break your face as a gift.”
Kenny perks up. “Free plastic surgery! Great Christmas gift for an ugly fatass.”
“Shut the fuck up! Who the fuck got me crocs!”
“I got a MCR shirt,” Stan comments.
“What did you get Tweek?” Jimmy asks.
Tweek clears his throat and looks at his friends on his right to forget about the tall turd in front of him. “I, uh, don’t know.”
“Hah! He got nothing,” Cartman jumps in with a wide sneer. “Lo-”
“I didn’t open it,” Tweek cuts, glaring at him. “But it will definitely be better than crocs.”
“Why didn’t you open it?” Token asks while Cartman leans over to try to hit him.
Tweek leans out of his reach with a sigh hitting his teeth. Cartman’s slaps would have been probably better because now he is back face to face with Craig. Luckily, the asshole turns back to his unopened phone when their eyes cross.
“I forgot about it,” Tweek articulates, “with work and tonight, you know.” His lies are rarely caught because his face knows when to act. Sometimes he will act all day at work to not give up. It’s probably why his teeth hurt once in a while, too many tense smiles. “But it looked kinda big.”
“Big?” Cartman parrots. “I got crocs!”
“Shut up, okay?!” He snaps back. “I don’t know what it is and you can buy the things you want yourself!”
So maybe he isn’t back to his usual—civil self but he has a lot on his plate; and one giant stain facing him when he just wants to savor a good pizza. It is also completely unfair of the universe to have Craig, undeniably, step up from his usual clothes. He wants to stay mad and not slap that.
Tweek is tempted to stretch his legs - either in Cartman’s guts or to run across the pizza place before kicking his ass. Instead he thrills on the tension coursing through him, to sit proudly and throw an impatient look toward the kitchen.
He likes this place. The guy who showed up two years ago with a wild sense of ‘I travelled the whole world but I’m happy here selling pizzas’, took it and has been making the best ones around here. A great spot to hang out and eat. Tweek would definitely drive to pick up pizzas here - if he ever got behind the wheels of a car. At least, next week he will be all comfy with Ninky at home.
And getting a new haircut.
And an earring.
And forgetting about Craig.
And ignoring the Secret Santa trap.
Tweek has no idea how to explain that his pretty medium-large wrapped box is actually for a headphone. The problem isn’t even about the utility - because he thought many times about buying one. How he might not hear what’s happening around him like a murder or a nuclear war always quickly shut down the idea. Even if it would be amazing for him to play whenever he wants without waking up his parents and less judging eyes than usual. Stan sometimes lent him his and Tweek spends the whole night tickling his bass.
Except that’s awfully expensive. He didn’t even take the gift out of the box to not leave a scratch on it, protective paper sheet and all before he closed it when he stared for too long. It even seems to be personalized. Which is totally crazy. Tweek knows it. Because even if it was a Secret Santa between good friends, nobody would spend that much on a gift anonymously.
Token is the only one who could spend that much money on a gift—which could be the case since Tweek had been under the weather right in front of him. But it also doesn’t make sense.
And now he has to figure out if it really is Token because he won’t keep it.
That is way over the price range established. He isn’t comfortable using it. Tweek thought it wasn’t for him - but then not a lot of people knows his favorite planet was Pluto and it is definitely a Pluto stick on the side of the headphones. Also some from Steven Universe, but then everyone knows that. He kind of wants a headphone with stickers all over it now.
It looks like a thoughtful gift. Which really makes him cherished but then he also has no idea what to do with it. He can’t keep something that he would need years of fake-allowance; probably having to steal more than usual from the tip jar.
He jerks up when Stan pushes his arms off the table when a large plate falls in front of him.
“Finally!” Cartman exclaims, shifting on his seat enough for Tweek to have to hold his ground.
The waitress shoots him a disapproving look and places two other pizzas down. Tweek absolutely doesn’t check out what Craig picked.
“I’m bringing the rest,” she said with quick steps.
“Do you have to be an ass?” Kyle asks with a shove.
“I’m hungry!”
They all shut up when she returns with the last plates.
“En-enjoy your meals, guys.”
“I swear if you even dare to steal my slices; Clyde-”
“I didn’t even look!” Clyde retorts, hand flailing in Craig’s face if it wasn’t for his reflex to lean away– the latter who is oddly hunched too but Tweek ignores it. Tries. “Who takes a pizza with everything and pineapple? You are a demon.”
“Don’t even fucking talk to me.”
Stan sighs and Tweek notices him in the corner of his eyes turning to whisper to him, but he stops when Tweek rolls his first pizza slice to shove it in his mouth.
“You are going to choke,” he says when Tweek starts to chew with difficulty at the chunk of food in his cheeks.
He glares at him. Kenny snickers beside him and his mouth stumbles after a string of cheese. Tweek listens to the chatters, ignoring the discreet glances toward him, or how Craig bites the edge of the table every once in a while. It looks like he wants to say something. When it comes to everyone agreeing to share the slices within a big huge pizza without sense - Tweek steals the one slice Craig was about to grab.
His hand might have slapped all over it and everyone looked. But he feels good when he folds it into his mouth. Craig doesn’t meet his eyes. And that—he doesn’t know what to feel.
“I don’t look fussy,” Kyle grumbles out.
Clyde snorts. “You do.”
Tweek sees Tolkien glancing between the indiscreet secret-boyfriends with a small smile.
“They went to the aquarium,” Cartman gossips.
Kyle shoots him a thunderous look.
“Aw, that’s nice, did you go see the dolphin show?”
Tweek irks at the simple mention of any dolphin from Clyde’s mouth. Now, he realizes it might be difficult to ever think about this animal without being brought back behind the dolphin curtain - just at the other side of Token and Clyde’s sex secret.
They all drift away from the subject when Cartman splutters his pizza out with his tongue sticking out. Stan cackles and Tweek spots the hot sauce packet he slipped under his plate.
“What’s the deal with Craig?”
Tweek anxiously deepens in his seat, wishing he had kept the giant plush but he had to give it up to have a ride to the concert. He should have run away before they finished the pizzas. Or faked a heart attack. Something. Anything to not see Craig Dickhead Tucker.
“I think it’s obvious,” Kenny says and Tweek clears his throat and stares at the window; at least Clyde’s car isn’t next to them. “He was eye-fucking me.”
He frowns at the window but doesn’t move.
“No, he definitely didn’t,” Kyle argues, sounding weirdly confident about what Craig would fuck or not.
“Yes, he did. I’m the master on the fucking matter— and he was.”
“His eyes are always dead. You’re probably imagining it.”
“But usually he is not that cadaverous.”
“You learnt words?”
“Shut up, Cartman,” he retorts with a hit of the elbow which is returned with a hard shove, hitting Tweek too. He doesn’t mind since the window was pleasurably cold. Maybe he was having a fever. “Like I said, the guy didn’t even reply to my text yesterday. And he saw it.”
Tweek blinks at that before straightening fast enough for Kenny to be surprised about it.
“What text?”
“He was a bitch to you because we fucked,” he says with a shrug. “Obviously I was going to say something, and I only told the truth.”
“And?” Stan turns with too much interest for Tweek.
“I texted–” Kenny clears his throat and shows off his phone, “‘I got a bigger dick, suck it’ with emoji milk. Thrice.”
Tweek lets his head hit the window - his attempt to change of universe only left a burn on his forehead. Tweek wonders how fast he could get unconscious by sheer power of the mind.
It obviously doesn’t work because they get to the concert and Tweek has to get out of the car. The infiltration works as expected. If the part where Clyde couldn’t stop balling his eyes out was in it.
Tweek wouldn’t say he was a great actor, just a convincing one. Still enough for Clyde to completely freak outs and believe it wasn’t a set up. It was a bit funny to lay unconscious while Cartman screamed at Clyde to stop crying and at the same time keep his fake-worried facade to the bouncer.
At least, they were loud enough for their friends to break in in the back. Tweek hopes the bouncer will forget about them after Cartman said he called 911 already. The worst that could happen to them would be to be kicked out and they didn’t plan to drink anything with alcohol so they really weren’t going to stand out.
“Oh my God, Clyde, he is fine!”
“He looks dead!” He calls back between sobs before Cartman lets Tweek lean against the car.
“He always looks like that!”
“Hey!” Tweek hisses, opening an eye to quickly check if he can stop faking.
“Are you okay?” Clyde gasps, almost barrelling into him and sort-of checking over him as he hugs too. “I thought you really had a stroke! Or-or an epileptic attack!”
“I’m fine,” he answers, muffled by a heavy shoulder. They aren’t the same height but if Clyde didn’t play football almost professionally, Tweek wouldn’t feel that small. “I’m— I’m okay, you can let me go.” Clyde did but not enough. “Clyde, come on, I just faked it.”
“You should get an Oscar or something,” he hastily says, almost shaking him, “I almost got a heart attack. I only saw that stuff in movies, I thought you were really epileptic.”
Tweek swallows down words. With a patient pat, he manages to have the proper distance for his morose mood; it wasn’t the time to also think about what meth brings to a newborn.
Cartman scoffs. “Yeah, epileptic,” he mockingly articulates and Tweek shoots him a glare. “Can we go now before it starts without us?”
For once, he isn’t a complete dick and is right. They already spent enough time outside with Clyde making the scene take it up a notch but Cartman is rarely thrown off so he quickly bounced on their mutual surprise at the loud sob. Their friends couldn’t have asked for a better diversion, even Tweek had almost winced once or twice at how loud they both called for help.
When they join the rest of the group at the back of the building, he doesn’t expect for Clyde to go right to Token and just— nest. Sort of. Tweek wants to forget the details but can’t. If it was Stan and Kyle, he would have enough memories to not feed his curiosity; he would have easily guessed that there is something between them even without interrupting their business.
Tweek really tries to not burn holes in their tangled figures. Tolkien isn’t bothered one bit that he still has an emotive friend snuggled on his side, probably even enjoying the temptation by how his hand is fondling the top of Clyde’s back and his neck— Tweek turns around when he sees the first contact with Clyde’s hair. Now it makes so much sense that Clyde is more interested in football and classes than dating; he has daily blowjobs.
“Do you think people have sex in the toilets at school?”
“Kinda hard to do it all the way, but heavy petting? Definitely yeah,” Kenny confirms with a motion of his soda.
They got in without any trouble. Kenny broke the small bathroom’s window just fine to fit in. They didn’t think that it would be that high, so after Kenny almost cracked his head on the floor, he opened the backdoor for them.
A lot of people were inside already. The mood was set with background music, letting time for the bands to be ready for the night. Still, Tweek would want the concert to start before his body is completely strained because of Craig.
He isn’t persisting or anything. Because he isn’t into Craig.
It would make sense to be attracted to him but Tweek? He isn’t. His weird obsession isn’t that kind of sweet sweet first teenage love. There is enough on his plate with his other obsessions, he doesn’t need an alive one because it complicates so much the process of getting—off.
Tweek knows it’s not an innocent crush. He feels the vicious touch crawling up, from whenever his sickness nested, every time he couldn’t know what Craig might talk about on the other side of the classroom. Tweek almost found himself copying Clyde’s mimics once or twice since he was one of - if not the - closest to Craig.
He really is acting like a madman finding a drop of water in the desert.
It’s impossible to explain why something interests him; but there is so much happening in his body around Craig that Tweek can’t even find any proper sense to it. He is scared of how his brain might react if Craig found someone.
Tweek could be crazy jealous and eat all of the skin around his nails or be a mean shadow behind them, nudging and pushing in the corridors until his sadness snaps and— bite? He is a complete stranger to himself whenever Craig is around.
He can’t like or love him when he feels that awful and scared about himself. Is it even about being with him or having him?
“Did you buy me crocks?”
Almost rolling his eyes, Tweek sighs and plays with his can. “I already told you I didn’t, Cartman.” The latter grunts and sits next to him to ask for a soda too. “You can just sell them if you really don’t want them.”
“Nobody wants crocks, nobody likes them.”
“If people didn’t like it then they would have stopped making them.”
Cartman shoots him an undignified look before nodding to the bartender handing a can after taking the money. Tweek weighs his own iced tea and takes a small sip. He glances at the other group at the bar, getting multiple shots without even waiting between them.
Their merged gangs could have brought their own alcohol to drink after but that would imply a post-hang-out. Frankly, Tweek is relieved they wouldn’t stay longer. Even if the rest of the gang is great, he can’t deal with Craig right now.
“You are still sulking?”
He frowns and passes a hand in his hair. “I’m not sulking.”
“So what do we call it? Moping? Have sand in your vagina?”
Tweek glares at him and decides to ignore him—but Cartman smashes a hand at the top of his back, leaving it there. Without giving more thoughts and a single blink, he shrugs.
“Just waiting for things to pass.”
“You give yourself so many problems,” he snorts and drinks.
“What?” Tweek shakes his hand off. “What the fuck does that mean? Why would anyone want to have— stuff?”
He shrugs with a judging grimace. “Am just saying you think too much and that makes you whine like a girl.”
“I’m not whining,” he retortes. The tension defuses by itself when he takes a breath. “You can’t even deal that your mom is dating Clyde’s dad-”
“They aren’t dating!”
Tweek scoffs and raises his eyebrows at his glare. “I could bet Ninky on that and seriously. I know your mom’s coffee and more than once his dad ordered it with his. She isn’t telling you because she knows you will be mad.”
Cartman turns red but before he could push Tweek or his can on the floor - he grabs it and walks away.
“I will kick your ass!” He calls out.
Easily spotting where the rest of their friends have settled, in one of the improvised booths, Tweek reaches them right when the first band announces the start of the night. It isn’t one of the groups he wants to see but it doesn’t sound bad. He quietly sits down next to Stan who smiles at him. Tweek plays with his second drink to avoid staring at the rest of the table before looking at the scene to watch the singer start.
“I like them,” Jimmy comments, right in time, before the crowd joins the front of the pit.
Tweek sees Kenny agree with a small nod just as Token gives a weak shrug.
Craig is a blur.
Tweek hopes that he would appear like in those photos where you have the heads cut off.
At least, Craig has the decency to recognize that he isn’t welcomed around him.
Even in the morning when Craig showed up at detention - for some disrespect Tweek didn’t remember of - he hadn’t tried anything. Their eyes barely met before Tweek angrily tried to understand his homework while Kyle quietly sat next to him. Though the two of them looked at each other once or twice, yet Kyle also ignored him when everyone gathered in front of the classroom.
Tweek wants to laugh at himself for the mere idea that Craig might be into Kyle. Jealousy rarely makes sense. It makes sense that he has talked more with Kyle than Tweek, sharing that hardcore math class and maybe something else that he doesn’t know about because he was too busy gawking at Craig’s long legs.
The booth moves when Clyde and Token decide to go out. Tweek doesn’t catch if it’s for a drink or if it’s to dance because Craig had to stand up and suddenly be next to Tweek.
His ears burn and his throat forgets the taste of his drink.
He can’t recognize where the turmoil was coming from. If one crazy part of his brain is a masochist and decides that it is worth it to be stuck with a guy calling him a slut. So maybe Tweek isn’t into dirty talk— that’s not what he should focus on. The point is that Craig is incredibly rude and still makes his stomach churn with butterflies.
When Craig sits back down, Tweek stares wide-eyed at his can, ungrateful for the lack of alcohol that could annihilate his senses for a while. The interlude is filled with Kyle asking about what group they were waiting for or insisting that he won’t dance no matter how much Stan begs. Tweek tastes the front of his teeth before he crawls out of the booth and finishes his drink.
“You are getting another drink already?” Kenny calls.
“Just going to the toilet,” he curtly says. But his eyes don’t know they shouldn't play with the fire when they linger on Craig’s noticeable figure.
Passing next to one of the recyclable trash cans in the room, he turns toward the bathroom once he delicately pushes his empty drink in it. Tweek peers inside the bathroom before walking in and washing his hands.
The beat is more discreet under his feet, enough to be recognizable and for Tweek’s hands to pat his cheeks with cold water in rhythm. He convinces himself that it will be better once he can forget about him. Drying up with two small pieces of paper, he brushes off the rest of the water on his overall with a last look at his tasteless reflection.
His eye bags get less and less obvious the more he repeats it as he walks out. His comforting soft yellow sweater might get him through the night, ignoring the mass of people not far away who could easily overcome him.
Catching in the corner of his eyes most of his friends at their booth, Tweek turns toward where Cartman seemed to have found someone to speak with. He decides to try his luck there to not have to see Craig’s ugly face.
Cartman quickly notices him and even has the gracious gesture to look at him. The girl he is talking with smiles at him, looking at least two or three years older than them.
Tweek glances at her just as she shoots a look he couldn’t read. He does guess that Cartman is trying to not be harsh because she is either having his interest or he is trying to pass some contraband. Before he can do anything, she takes her drink and walks away with a last smile to Cartman.
“What do you want? You don’t get to do that,” Cartman grouses with a half-done glare.
“Do what?”
“Cock-fucking-block me.”
Tweek purses his lips and shrugs. “I didn’t mean to, I walked before realizing it— I just wanted to hang out with you, a bit.”
Cartman gives him a look of disbelief, quickly acting disgusted with a scoff in his drink.
“Whatever.”
He doesn’t push the conversation, only purses his lips with a bit of amusement and watches the band still playing. People are singing and cheering on; some already drunk by their stumbles only saved because they held onto each other.
“You really planned to leave with her or something?” He carefully asks.
Cartman glowers at him. “You think I can’t?”
“No, I didn’t say that,” Tweek jeers back with an exasperated sigh. “She is probably like ten years older than you, that’s all.”
“Like I need advice from someone who had sex with Kenny.” Tweek bites down on his lips to not reply that if he follows this idea he shouldn’t speak with his mom too. “How was it, by the way?”
“What? I’m not telling you that,” Tweek blurts out with an abrupt warmth. “And especially not when you fucking sold pictures!”
“They are really delusional,” he snickers, not feeling bad one bit. “The pictures aren’t even special, I didn't even have to photoshop them.”
“What pictures? I don’t take any!”
“Some group pictures we had. Honestly, I didn’t need to even try to sell them.”
Cartman shrugs with a proud smirk.
“How much did you sell them for? You should give us a part.”
“Hum no. What for?”
Tweek frowns. “Why do you even need it?”
“I have plans unlike you,” Cartman retorts with a condescending look. Tweek’s mouth clamps shut and for a second he wants to go out of here, but he holds his ground to turn his eyes toward the scene to focus on the several hurtful beats of his heart. He can feel the itching stare not leaving him - not enough to make him think for a reply or any kind of deflect.
“Don’t be a wuss,” he complains with enough self-wallow that Tweek irks at.
“I’m not.”
“Yeah, right,” his supposed friend replies. “I’m just saying you don’t do anything.”
“Like what? Make people buy stuff three times its price?”
“You have no idea what to do and you don’t even try to deal with your problems.”
Tweek feels a cold sweat perk up at the end of his neck, just as it snaps around a hot knot.
“Are you serious?” He articulates and leaves the wall to better face him. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? I never did anything to y-”
“What are you even talking about?” Cartman cuts with the audacity to look like Tweek is the one out of the place. “See that? You just changed the subject.”
“What? Are you serious? Then tell me what I don’t try to deal with.”
His jaw juts and the pain makes him loudly breathe through his nose.
“Well your parents don’t care about you.”
It feels weird to hear it from someone’s voice but it doesn’t change the impassiveness he has grown about it.
“Woaw, you really are a genius,” he dryly articulates back.
Cartman glances at him but doesn’t show anything. “You don’t want them around, right? Then do something instead of just waiting for nothing.”
“Like what? It’s not like they’re my roommates you know, it’s not that easy-”
“It is that easy, stupid. Just get your own place.”
Tweek stares incredulously before he shakes his head with a short snort.
“Yeah, right. We are in highschool and I don’t-”
“Kenny did it.”
“That’s completely different,” he hisses back. “You know that!”
“I know that Kenny has bigger balls than you, yeah,” he replies, leaving the wall to straighten up with smugness. “It’s the same thing. Your parents both suck, right? He got out of there but you stayed — see?”
A tremor persecutes his brain, only realizing it after that it is his heart screaming in indignation. They both know how the McCormick's are - from tales and morbid paints on the sandy blond’s skin, and also that they are worth more than any side of his own parents.
But a part of him couldn’t not wonder if he couldn’t get out of here too; instead of waiting for it to get worse or have his mind dripping away from his reach.
“It’s not the same.”
“Well the result is the same,” Cartman beats, “your parents suck and you will feel better without them just like Kenny did. You are going to what? Wait until they beat you up or stop feeding you if you take care of the coffee shop?”
Tweek stares at him.
His breaths overwhelm his lungs but it is quick to swallow his guts down. He should have known Cartman would shut him by any means, to piss him off or just feel smarter for the time of the night. He is used to it and almost learns to enjoy how it escalates; but he isn’t used to Cartman playing with his heart and showing him like he wasn’t the owner.
In the short pause of the beat, his eyes notice the slow fall of the brunet’s posture. Even hesitating by the move of his lips, he soon looks away - just as Kenny appears in front of them with a beaming grin.
“Hi,” he announced.
Cartman turns toward him just as Kenny dances with firm hands, turning them around with his body following another complete rhythm.
“Anasha Bliss,” Tweek adds, “and I’m your freestyle dance teacher— how do you learn her dance?”
Kenny breaks his exact imitation with a proud laugh to join the other blond. “I spent weeks on this!”
“And you are getting pussies?” Cartman jeers but doesn’t appear truly angry when he drapes an arm on his shoulder. He places a loud kiss on his cheek as he headlocks him.
“Gross!”
Tweek is about to laugh at him when he is caught by the other arm. He gives a quick fake gag but can’t hold the light blush and bloom in his mood.
“What were you two doing? You missed Stan dragging Kyle out of the booth and he almost ripped the table.”
“God, how can he deal with that bitch?” Kenny shrugs but quickly lets go of Cartman when he rolls his shoulders. “I will let you make out alone.”
“Thanks.”
“That’s not funny, asshole,” Tweek rebutts instead and watches him walk away, probably scouting for that girl. He swallows at the relief he finds himself nestled in. “I think he hates me.”
“Nah, he is just a mean egocentric dude in a closet,” Kenny dismisses and nudges his head against his easily with only several inches of difference. “Why? Did he say something?”
“Not really,” he says. “Just— that I’m waiting for stuff to happen because I won’t do anything.”
Kenny scoffs. “That’s the one who is currently trying to kill the guy fucking his mom, not the best example.”
He gives a weak nod before he glances at him. His hand timidly settles on his forearm. “He told me I could get out from my parents by moving out.”
“You know I would let you crash at my place-”
“I know,” Tweek quickly reminds, barely having to question if Stan and Kyle would too, “I don’t think I can’t now.” They hear the next group getting ready and he is grateful to recognize it to be one he really wanted to see. He licks his lips and hugs Kenny tighter. “But I really want to. Maybe I can go to college if I get enough money without them looking.”
“You could get a scholarship for music,” Kenny easily agrees at his surprise.
Tweek's lungs stop. Restart to leave him giddy and soft in a beat. "You think?" He asks under his breath, trying to not show how much it was.
"Yeah. I don't lie."
"You do."
"That's because I have a fragile ego and I have to fill it with something."
“You and a fragile ego?” He snorts, not able to cover his smile with anything, “you are the most flamboyant queer I will ever know.”
Kenny scoffs and waves his hand in that drama-royalty-like gesture. “That’s my princess side.”
Tweek chuckles, laughing properly when their eyes meet and Kenny still holds him close.
The band starts and some people whip around. He would have followed the buzz if he wasn't fine right here for now; to build his time before the number of people starts to weigh in his mind.
"Thank you," Tweek whispers close to his cheek.
The music slowly starts, less energetic but more giving a sensation to follow - and without dreading the quiet mesmerizing flow he waits for the singer's voice to shatter his thoughts.
"Cartman is a sour pickle, don't mind him. Just be happy you aren't his super best friend," he jokes back to which Tweek smiles back.
He could see the look of the cheap friendship necklace Kenny has kept on since forever; though there isn't much history behind it from his words but he finds that interesting. At least Cartman might have had the decency to keep the other half.
"If it's a pain in the ass why do you keep it, it's not like he is really nice or helpful sometimes. I don't know what to think about him."
"I think he might get better over time. Like Walmart cheese," he says and surprises him when he settles against the wall. Tweek follows after he gets out of his grasp. "I just try to not let Cartman do his shit to people who can't deal with it."
"Like Butters?"
Kenny shrugs. "He has enough on his plate."
Tweek looks at him. His friend is stubborn to watch the scene, appearing serene under the lights torn between blue and red. His eyes linger on the aurelian strands edging the start of his back before returning to his three earrings.
“I want to try stuff," Tweek admits and looks back at the scene.
“You on top? That would change our whole power dynamic.”
Tweek elbows him as he tries to muffle a chuckle. "Not that. We wouldn't want to destroy that."
Kenny laughs and after a moment quiets down. He seems lost in the music before he smiles at Tweek.
“We have that kind of relationship where we can have a massive stomach flu and still have sex without being turned off once.”
Tweek blinks at the image before his lips fight between disgust and mirth. “I prefer the Legolas and Gimli comparison," he articulates, laughing at the end. Kenny grins at him but he doesn’t want to change the subject. "I think I will try to record myself this break," he cheers himself as his tone is stubbornely over the volume of the music. "And— I don't think you will realize when you fall out of love with Butters."
Kenny arches an eyebrow and tightens his lips. "What?"
"I just— you are like that, you know," he says, "you take care of people with everything. I think you always did that, I don't remember if you did before I started to hang you with you guys. But when you will not have feelings for him, that won't make you think about him so you will not realize it, right? It will be like something you won't even think about if you don't see it."
"You thought about this a lot?" Kenny kindly asks with a slight mocking smirk.
Tweek swallows. "I have a lot of free time at night." And he wants to know if it can happen one day like his obsession over Craig. "My point is— I just think, you should at least be sure if you want to stop speaking with him to forget about it. And maybe tell him. Because I don't think he will let you do it."
He recognizes the slight dew in his hazelnut wide pupils. With a slight pity, he smiles to prove himself.
And then Kenny takes his hand. Just when the singer moved to another song - one of their favorites; they could sing it from rise to fall on and on. He doesn’t even pause when he sees his friend dance. Tweek follows the beat, without his brain hovering him about the people around. Only falling in rhythm with Kenny and singing at the top of their lungs while clicking and swaying alone.
Tweek dances on the familiar elation next to the blinding figure catching his hand or whirling around. They laugh when they catch each other, barely having a breath when they go back to the lyrics, throwing their heads back. Tweek doesn’t even think of how he might look; moving around without thinking where his body curved, with pink happy cheeks and a warm heart - Tweek enjoys the songs.
When they find themselves out of the crowd, catching breath in the warm air between low chuckles and close shoulders—Tweek feels a weight leaving him for a moment.
"I need to pee," Kenny says with a sniff and a hand still pumped through his hair.
"Good luck," he chuckles, "there are like three stalls for all of us."
"Yeah I know, I made out with someone there last year."
Tweek blinks. "What?"
"I told you about that lame concert last year," his friend reminds, "made out with that guy who might have been a vampire." Tweek zeroes in the moment he went to the bathroom.
"Try to find the rest of the guys, maybe they are at the booth. Clyde and Token must be since I didn't see them dancing."
"Oh my God."
"If you get a drink can you get me-" Tweek grabs him when he takes one step. "What?"
"You can't leave me alone," he says just as he sees dolphins flash through his mind.
"Just go around the crowd."
"You don't—" he grits his teeth because he couldn't say it. Kenny would have a field day if he walked on the two exhibionists' affair. "Just… you know."
Kenny frowns for a second before he seems to understand something.
"Don't worry, I will let Stan and Kyle alone if they are out there petting each other," he snickers. "We don't want to destroy our work."
Tweek offers a weak chuckle as he had to let go. He realizes that he didn't want to get a drink but also wasn't sure what else to do.
Just then another band walked up. His heart jumps to his throat at the two singers. For a second, he doesn’t mind being alone in this place full of shades, heats and buzz.
Tweek looks around to find a spot to sit down before walking. Taking it easy, avoiding people and groups until he notices their previous booth empty.
With a faint hope that someone might be at the bar, he walks around people already cheering on the band. His eyes catch two familiar figures under a blue and green spot.
Tweek watches what could be the furthest Stan could get Kyle to dance now and here.
Just as they kiss, he returns to their booth with a raw and almost feral heart.
He doesn’t know what is wrong in his head to not give him something that clear or rock-solid uncreepy - but here he is picturing how Craig would kiss and if they could with their noticeable height difference. Tweek slumps in the booth and tries to bore his eyes into the singer. Adult and charismatic, he doesn’t dull himself in him but only works on his lack of love.
Maybe he only wants to be like Craig. It would explain why when he read that he wasn't a virgin anymore, he woke up next to Kenny the next morning. Maybe it is just their drastic differences that makes him ache for it to be reduced. He wants to be him.
Maybe it was meth over again. Kicking him until he sank in something.
Maybe he can’t do it.
Tweek doesn’t want to be into someone like this. His brain even sides with him when he is certain he could be angry. But he wants to forgive Craig so bad. Because he also can't believe he might be so mean when they had chatted for a few nights over a video game.
They don’t know each other. Tweek wants to and better than anyone else throughout and through but Craig wouldn’t like that.
And he loves him so much.
Not that it is love.
Who knows what it is.
The woman sings first and Tweek plays it over his head. The man took the next words with a voice making him shiver and swallow. He watches how they enjoy the scene; the way their fingers play over notes and their light swing with the rhythm - losing themselves into the song.
Tweek wonders if he could ever look like that just as his eyes drop to his hands, ajar on the edge of the table.
When he looks up, he sees Craig.
Tall even behind people dancing and holding a can under the changing shades; his hair catching the reflections and he stands there looking back at Tweek.
An undignified blush sport over Tweek, quite ready to swallow him in a mix of exasperation and disbelief. But he manages to break it. To look back at the scene and how the singer just makes his heart beat back on a steady rhythm. With a faith he puts upon his friends, he fluttered close his eyes to stare at the ground to enjoy the song.
He recognizes Craig's black and white sneakers wordlessly step next to him.