Chapter Text
Craig doesn't come by the shop after that.
For the next week, Tweek is eager for Craig's visit. But as the days go by, and his old friend doesn't stop by the shop, not even to just say hi, Tweek starts to give up. By the second Friday without him, Tweek’s stopped expecting him to show up entirely. The only change from that day is that Craig will give him a small nod of acknowledgement whenever he sees him in class. Occasionally, a small wave if they meet eyes in the halls. Craig still walks by the shop every day, but he never gazes into the window like he used to, instead keeping his head down and his eyes forward.
Tweek pushes down the disappointment. He had planned to offer to study with Craig if he had a break, or even offer help if he needed it. It would be a lot of pressure to tutor Craig, but it might be worth it if it brought him into the shop. Tweek hadn't really counted on it, but he was kind of hoping he and Craig could be friends again. It seems like he'll have to settle for friendly.
It’s the slow part of a Saturday afternoon, two weeks since Tweek last saw the boy. His parents must have fucked up the grind settings during their shift because his pulls have been channeling all morning. It's not really notable enough to matter, but it’s notable enough that it makes Tweek worry that people will notice and yell at him. Now that he's through the busiest part of the morning, he has time to fix it.
Tweek adjusts the grinder, turning the knob and cranking out grounds into the portafilter. He pulls a shot, notes the change, and dumps it into his cup before adjusting again. He thinks the next one will be perfect, or as perfect as he can get it, but before he can duck his head down to inspect the flow again, he sees movement in the corner of his eye. Outside the window, directly in front of the shop, he sees Craig and his friends. It's like they forgot it was glass by the way they're shoving Craig and pointing towards the door.
Tweek frowns.
Craig looks miserable. Some sort of mix of resignation, anger, and nervousness. Are they trying to make the tall boy come in so he could, like, bully Tweek or whatever? People don't usually point at him with laughter on their faces unless it’s some kid who’s making bets with their friends to talk to the twitchy kid. But that hasn't happened since they merged with North and Middle Park freshman year. Plus, he’s still friendly with the others, so they probably wouldn’t do that to Tweek, right? Maybe they're making fun of Craig and making him do something he doesn't want to do? If so, he feels bad for the guy. Craig always seems to get pulled into all sorts of nonsense despite how much he claims to hate it.
The bell rings and the group finally enters, pulling a very hesitant Craig to the counter. He looks like he's contemplating chewing off his arm to escape their grip.
“Craig?” Tweek looks at them curiously.
“Hey Tweek,” Tolkien says, lifting one hand off of Craig's arm to wave at him. He’s probably spoken to the rest of the boys more than he has Craig. Tolkien is in a few of his classes and they’ve had a couple of group projects together, and he always goes to Jimmy’s shows when he can out of a sense of loyalty to his old friend. Clyde he doesn’t see much of, but he hasn’t had any problems with him. The one time they shared P.E., he never picked Tweek last, which was nice of him. They all have their backpacks, so it looks like if Craig survives whatever's going on, his request to study at the shop will finally come to fruition.
Tweek’s about to ask what he can get them, but is quickly interrupted.
“Craig has something to ask you,” Clyde says, grinning.
Tweek looks at Craig expectantly.
“Come on, Craig,” Jimmy says, nudging the taller boy with his crutch.
The group releases their grip, and Craig is sent stumbling forward into the counter.
Tweek bites his lip. “Uh… What’s up, Craig?”
“Do you-” His eyes dart around, looking for an escape. When Craig finds none, he looks up at Tweek. Seeing something in him, Craig takes a deep breath and stands up straight with a sudden boost of confidence. “Do you…”
“Do I...?”
Craig’s face cracks.
“Do you… havepeppermintsyrup?”
His friends all groan behind him.
“Uh, yeah?” Tweek says, confused. “Do you want, like, a peppermint hot chocolate?”
Clyde sighs and wraps his arms around his friend’s shoulders. “Tweek, Craig was wondering if you-” The taller boy shoves Clyde off of him hard, before stomping outside, the bell ringing behind him. Through the window, Tweek watches him stop to pull his hat down over his eyes in… distress? Frustration?
“Sorry about our friend, Tweek. He's kind of nervou- ah- aha- ah. Nervah ah- a- kind of a pussy.”
“Um. Okay?” Tweek feels like he’s missing something. He looks back at Craig, concerned, before his attention is drawn back to the group in front of him. He grips his apron nervously. “Do you guys want to order something or…?”
The boys take turns ordering, all shrugging when Tweek asks if Craig will want anything. With their requests set and paid, he begins to make their drinks. As Tweek works, they stand posted at the counter.
“Hey, Tweek.”
The blond hums in distracted acknowledgment. “What do you think about Craig?” Clyde asks. Tweek’s hands freeze for a second before he continues, trying to ignore how the question makes him feel.
“Uh.” His head jerks. Tweek glances at the door, for once hoping that a customer comes in. He’s not sure if there’s a right answer or not. He likes Craig, so he wouldn’t say anything bad about him, but what if he says something and they take it as something bad? If they don’t like how he talks about their friend, they might jump over the counter and crucify him on a cross or something. Make him a gay buddhist Jesus for all the town to look at and throw rocks at.
“He-He’s nice?”
Clyde snorts. “Craig’s not nice, he’s an asshole,” he says easily. Tweek almost feels offended on the boy’s behalf.
“Nah, man,” Tolkien looks over at the blond, then back at Clyde, “He’s great. Right?”
“Craig’s a great guy,” Jimmy repeats, nodding his head. “Don’t you agree, Tweek?”
Tweek just shrugs. “I think so. But I don’t really know him anymore. We don’t really talk now. Everyone says he’s mean, but he’s always been really nice to me!”
“I can’t believe you don’t talk to Craig anymore. You guys used to be so close.” Clyde says curiously.
“Yeah,” Tweek thinks back as he wipes the steam wand. “I thought we were, like, Best Friends. I went over to his house all the time pretty much up until the beginning of middle school.”
“I remember that!” Clyde shouts, smiling, “I was so jealous when you guys were superhero partners!”
Tweek laughs. “I was really happy when he wanted us to match. He always had the coolest characters.”
Tolkien thinks back. “Man, I totally forgot you guys had those matching outfits.”
“He gave me his jacket and-”
“Aw, that’s so cute.” Clyde interrupts, cooing.
“It was sweet. But I think I might have made it weird. That’s when he started to stop inviting me over as much. I think it was around that game when he started not talking to me.”
Looking back on it, it had to have been Tweek’s fault. Craig always spoke his mind, but was pretty adaptable to Tweek’s anxiety. He probably thought it was better to not straight up say anything when he didn’t want to be friends anymore. He was always obnoxiously considerate like that. Tweek’s not sure it was the right move, though. He can’t seem to decide if slowly drifting apart like that had hurt more or less.
“That was in elementary?” Clyde asks, giving him an odd look.
“Y-yeah?” Tweek says nervously. He’s unsure what Clyde seems to be getting at.
Clyde looks at the others. “‘Elementary’ you guys.”
“Craig. Our Craig. Has been weird with you since elementary?” Tolkien says, looking at Tweek gravely.
“Is that significant? Oh god, did he say anything?!” Tweek is definitely missing something and that something sounds important. “We were, like, 10! It- did I do something? Did he say anything?! I always thought I might’ve done something or-or if there was something I could’ve-”
“Tweek, it’s-”
Tweek steamrolls over Jimmy, unable to even hear him through his anxious rambling. “I mean, I thought we were close! Maybe I was reading it wrong?! Or-” He thinks back, shaking. “Once I got him Stripe! He got weird. Maybe I overstepped? Ugh, I’m so-” he’s completely stopped making their drinks now, hands gripping the paper cup full of Tolkien’s coffee so hard he can feel it bend.
“Dude, it’s okay,” Clyde says, arms out as if he were soothing a wild animal.
Tolkien's eyes are wide. “Calm down, man-”
Why did Craig stop talking to him? Why did he assume Tweek would forget about their friendship? Was it just not as important to Craig as it was for Tweek? So unimportant that he could forget about it? Craig’s so nervous now, and it had started back then, so maybe that’s the reason why it happened, but if it was, why couldn’t he just talk to Tweek about it? If anyone would get anxiety, it’s him! Maybe not in the same way- Not that all anxiety is the same, or he would have understood Craig’s, but… Maybe it would have been nice for Tweek to have someone who gets it too.
No. That can’t be it. Tweek must have done something wrong. Craig would have stayed his friend otherwise.
“What the fuck did you guys do.”
Tweek shrieks, crushing the coffee cup in his hand as he jumps at Craig’s sudden appearance.
“Craig!”
Did he hear them talking about him?!
“Tweek.”
Is Craig going to leave Tweek again because he was gossiping about him?!
He feels a hand grip his shaky arm. Tweek looks up and there’s Craig standing in front of him, eyes soft like when they were younger.
“Come on.” Craig gently pulls on Tweek, guiding him over to the sink. His first instinct is to think that he’s going to kill Tweek. His body is screaming at him, telling Tweek that it’s the only answer. Craig’s going to drown Tweek, and all his friends are going to watch. But the other part of him, the part that knows Craig, or who he used to be, can’t help but trust him. Somehow, just being held by him again makes Tweek’s heart rate slow. Not all the way, but slow enough that he notices.
“You burned your hands,” Craig says.
Tweek looks down and, sure enough, he did. His hands are still dripping hot coffee all over the floor, his skin not quite blistering, but definitely not happy either. Craig turns on the sink using the hand not holding Tweek’s arm, and leads the blond to put his hands under the cold water. It stings, but he stands there, next to the taller boy, letting the water run over his burnt skin. Tweek doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even want to look at Craig on the off chance that it will disrupt his act of kindness.
After a moment, Craig breaks the silence between them. “You were talking about me, right?” Tweek tics, his hands jerking back. Craig knows. He knows and Tweek was right that he’s going to kill him. This is just some cruel torture to make it hurt more later. Craig pulls Tweek’s hands back under the stream. “I’m not mad at you.”
“... Are you sure?”
“Would I lie.”
He wouldn’t.
“I don’t care what people say about me.” Craig states, matter-of-factly.
It’s true. Craig had never really been anxious like Tweek. Tweek knew about his shakes and that he was kind of weird; he tried not to be ashamed of it, but it was so hard sometimes. It’s difficult to ignore the parts of Tweek that make people want to stay away, especially as he grew older. Even excluding his insecurities, though, there were always so many fears about what could happen because of them. People could want to hurt him, he could hurt others. Tweek’s future could be ruined because he shakes and screams and he’ll never get a job anywhere else and be stuck in South Park forever. So many things could go wrong outside of people wanting him around. But Craig never seemed to worry about that kind of stuff. He wasn’t boastful or proud, but Craig knew who he was. He was confident in himself and his ability to go through life. Other people who weren’t his friends didn’t really matter. When Tweek first got to know him, Craig was so fascinating because of this confidence. Tweek had never met anyone like him.
Honestly, he still hasn’t.
“I’ve always admired that about you,” Tweek admits.
“Oh.” There’s a beat of awkward silence. “I also thought that about you.” Craig says finally.
He looks up at Craig in shock. The other stares at the water, unable to meet Tweek's eye.
“You admired me or… that I didn’t care about what people said about me?”
“Both. You were always scared of the consequence, but never for being… You.”
Tweek can’t help but blush, even if that wasn’t really true anymore. “Thanks, Craig.”
Craig looks at the pink on Tweek’s face. “I actually lied.” He says quickly. “I do care about what people say about me.” Craig admits, shifting from one foot to another.
Tweek snorts. “Okay. Sure, man.”
“I care about what you say about me.”
Tweek freezes. It takes a second to confirm that he heard Craig right. When his words finally load in Tweek’s brain, his whole body twitches. “YOU JUST SAID YOU WEREN'T MAD! Oh god. Craig! I’m so sorry!”
Craig looks up at Tweek, flinching from his yell. “I’m not. You were nice. I mean-” He looks away, then looks back. “Uh. Well. I don’t mind if you, you know, talk about me. If you do, I just- I want you to say good things. Or at least think them.”
“Me?” Craig just nods.
Tweek wants to be surprised, but he’s not. Craig always cared more than his blank face suggested. He sighs and takes a deep breath before bumping his hip into the taller boy’s.
“Well, I do.”
“I heard. That’s why I wasn’t mad.”
Tweek’s pauses. He’s not sure if he should do this, but Tweek kind of feels like he has to. He would rather get it over with as soon as possible so, if it all goes wrong, Tweek won’t already be invested in their friendship again. Having Craig leave him once was painful enough. Craig leaving him twice would just be embarrassing.
“Hey, Craig?” Tweek asks nervously.
Craig tilts his head, questioning.
“Why did you stop inviting me over? Did I do something?”
Craig responds with no hesitation. “No!” He looks at Tweek, eyes wide. “You didn’t do anything. You were always a good friend. A really good friend, actually. I mean, I still think you’re cool.”
Tweek practically melts in relief. “I’ve spent years wondering if I messed up,” He admits, “one day we were friends and then the next I realised that you stopped talking to me.” It’s nice to know that he was wrong and Tweek hadn’t done anything, but it still hurt that it happened at all. Craig still left him.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
It’s not really okay. The ache is still there, despite the time that has passed. He’s pretty sure Craig can see it too. He looks at Tweek as if unsatisfied with his easy forgiveness, but stays silent.
Tweek doesn’t know what to say after that. He stands there, twitching, and to his credit, even with the not quite awkward but not quite uncomfortable quiet, Craig doesn’t leave his side. Eventually, Tweek deems it good enough and shuts the water off. His hands are still an angry shade of red, but Tweek’s been working the shop so long that burns don’t really affect him anymore. Craig turns and looks at the sticky coffee still on the ground.
“Do you need help.”
Tweek shakes his head. “Go sit with your friends,” he says, shooing Craig off with his hands. Craig hesitates, as if wanting to protest, but nods and walks back to the register. He puts his hands on the counter, preparing to leap over. He looks back at Tweek for a brief moment before pressing down and forward to send himself over the counter. All at once, Craig’s elbow seems to fold in at the peak of his momentum, sending him falling, crashing face first towards the other floor on the other side. Tweek takes a step forward in concern, ready to check the other boy for injuries, but Craig pops back up, his expression unchanged but with a pink tinge to his cheeks.
His friends don’t even pretend to be worried. The boys had spread out their things on a central table with a perfect view of Craig’s fall and were laughing hysterically. He sends a sharp glare across the room and flips them off. This only sets them off further, Tolkien raising his finger to point at the boy while the others elbow and shove each other. Jimmy is almost falling out of his seat in hysterics and has to be dragged back into his chair.
Craig takes a second to pull some cash from his pocket, counting out a few bills and setting them on the counter. He looks up at Tweek, who nods before he even has to speak. He knows what Craig wants.
It takes a moment for them all to calm down. They take turns jeering and jabbing at Craig until their amusement is finally satiated. Tweek watches as Craig finally pulls out his laptop and handwritten notes, mixing them into the pile of notebooks and sheets of crumpled homework that litter across the table. All the boys quietly chat, supposedly working, while Tweek remakes Tolkien's coffee. Despite how much he wants to listen in and see if they’re talking about him, Tweek respects his old friends too much. He turns the shop music up and hums along, giving them their privacy. When Tweek walks over with their drinks, it seems they haven't made much progress with their work. There aren’t even any pens or pencils out on the table. They thank him, inviting him to sit with them, but Tweek declines to clean up his mess from earlier. He appreciates the offer, though. It would be nice to hang out with them again.
Not today, though. As much as he wants to, Tweek has too many things to do before he gets a break. Occasionally, he gazes at their table longingly. And, just like when they were kids, whenever he looks over, Craig is already looking back.
Tweek leans over the counter and points to a place where Craig’s missed a decimal point, messing up the ending fraction.
“No!” He says, twitching, “See, Craig? right here.”
“Uh huh.”
Tweek looks up at his absent-minded answer only to be faced with Craig’s intense gaze. He flushes, his eye snapping back to the paper. “Craig, you have to pay attention.”
The boy groans. “It’s just math, Tweek.”
“Yeah, and you nearly failed the last test! I’m not going to let that happen again.”
Tweek has been trying to get Craig to study for a week now. When he had finally gotten the chance to sit with his old friends, he had realised that half of them were not doing well. Tolkien was doing fine, and Jimmy's grades were somewhere around average, but Craig and Clyde? They were passing most classes, but only by the skin of their teeth. Turns out it's easy to ignore the awkward reconnecting phase with old friends if there’s something even bigger to worry about.
Tolkien offered to tutor Clyde if Tweek tutors Craig, which felt like a blessing at the time (because yay Craig) but now feels like rolling a boulder up a goddamn hill because the boy in front of him is insufferable. Even without his friends distracting him, he’ll barely look at his homework. If Tweek’s not helping Craig, he’s sitting and talking to the blonde as he works, trying to distract Tweek from the fact that he’s not actually doing anything important. If Tweek is helping him, all Craig does is look at him. He knew Craig always had a staring problem, probably something to do with his issues with eye contact, but it seems like it’s gotten worse in their years apart.
Nonetheless, he’s determined to help him.
“Gahh! Dude, just try.”
Craig looks at Tweek defiantly and shuts his notebook. “No. I’m done.” He announces.
“Dude, I’m serious!” Tweek protests, “You can’t fail another test.”
“I didn’t fail any tests. Clyde’s a liar. Don’t listen to him. ”
“I didn’t hear it from Clyde, I heard it from your mom, dumbass.”
His face contorts into an ugly look of betrayal. “Dude, what the fuck! Why is my mom talking about me to you.”
Tweek just shrugs, leaning against the counter. “She isn’t. She was just telling all the other moms about it in their weekly gossip circle.”
“Dude.”
“I know! It’s fucked up! Why does Sharon need to know about that?! I don’t even want to know that, but I can’t help it! I hear everything in town!”
People congregate in coffee shops. It’s one of the only places besides someone’s own home where they can sit and talk. And people love to talk. Casual conversation at the register? Apparently the mayor’s plans for the day is a hot date with the next mayor over. Wiping tables? The two girls from his school sitting at the table behind him are talking about their mutual friend who got an STD. Just minding his own goddamn business behind the counter? Some asshole doesn’t understand coffee shop etiquette and quits his job (loudly) over the phone before calling a divorce lawyer so he can legally run away with his secret girlfriend. Tweek tries to turn the music up so as to not hear the townspeople chatter, but his dad always seems to show up 10 minutes later to turn it down.
“Wait, what?”
“The gossip, man! I know all of it!” Tweek says, tugging at his apron
“Everything?” Craig asks, suddenly curious.
“Everything!” Tweek wails. “Do you know how much pressure it is to know so many secrets?! I can’t handle that, Craig!”
“No way, dude.” Craig leans back and sips his drink. “There’s no way people talk loud enough in here for you to hear it.”
“It’s true!”
“Prove it.”
He twitches, groaning into his sentence. He keeps his voice low, just in case anyone else was listening in. “Butters is going to start dance classes again over in Denver. His dad keeps complaining about having to legally inform local police.”
“That’s something anyone could find out,” Craig says dismissively. “Tell me something no one else would know.”
Tweek bites his nail, unsure of what he should say or even can say, but the pressure wins out.
Plus it’s Craig.
He leans forward, motioning Craig closer. “You can’t tell anyone, man. They’ll trace it back to me.” Craig nods. “You know Randy?” The other boy looks at him blankly. “Stan’s dad?”
“Lorde?”
“Yeah. He’s going to commit insurance fraud. I heard him talking with Towelie about it. He’s gonna set his car on fire or some shit in a few days.”
“Really?” Craig says, interest on his face. Tweek nods. “Dude, that's crazy.”
“I- I have no idea what I should do! Should I tell the police? Or-or Stan? I could be considered an accomplice or something!”
Craig looks at him with awe. “If I could know everything about people’s fucked up lives I would be sooo happy.”
Tweek just puts his face down onto the counter, his blonde hair spilling over Craig’s work. “It’s a curse, Craig,” he groans, “and I’ll never be free until I escape this fucking shop. The other boy hums sympathetically.
It’s been uncomfortably easy getting to know Craig again. To his credit, Craig honestly hasn’t changed that much. What made them get along so well back then still applies now. Though, when it hit Tweek that it only took a week for him to start searching for Craig whenever someone entered the shop, he nearly had a panic attack. But when Tweek really thinks about it, he supposes it was probably inevitable for him to get attached again. A week? A month? What difference does it make?
Tweek’s head jerks up when he hears the door chime. Instinctively, he calls out a “Welcome to Tweek Bro’s!” and looks up at the clock to check the time. His eyes grow wide. Tweek has been talking to Craig for way longer than he should have. The afternoon rush is about to start, and he needs to get ready.
“Shit. It's almost the 4:30 rush. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, Craig.” Tweek says quickly, turning towards the customer on the other side of the counter before the other boy could respond. He picks up his sharpie and takes the order. As he does, the door chimes, then again and again and again until he’s dealing with the usual line. When Tweek checks between drinks, Craig and his homework are gone from their place on the counter next to him. He ignores the pang of disappointment he feels at his absence. Craig has a test coming up, Tweek tells himself. He’ll be back.
Craig will visit the shop again. He’ll come back to Tweek.
Tweek swallows thickly, glancing at the place where the boy was sitting.
Hopefully.