Chapter Text
Tweek stares at Craig’s contact again, like he hasn’t already memorized his profile picture, which is actually not of him but of Stripe in a ridiculous vest which reads ‘police k9’. It’s a really funny picture, Craig sent it to him before even posting it.
He swipes until he finds Clyde’s contact, and wonders if maybe he should try to call him first instead. After all, he was in the car as well, and saw that shit show firsthand. Damn it, he had been doing so well! It had been so long since he had cried in front of anybody! Besides Craig of course, who he kind of tended to use as a fucking tissue lately for all his meltdowns. For all he was a stoic non expressive asshole, he always made his best to stop him from crying. Even if it was for a stupid reason, like getting emotional over a song lyric, Craig never joked about it until way later. He listened and showed him funny videos on instagram. Tweek suspected he even had a collection of them saved specifically for his moments.
It wasn’t like it was just him taking advantage of Craig’s kindness, as far as he knew, Craig didn’t turn to anybody else when he had a bad day either. He still remembers picking him up from his house after work, about a year ago, and bringing him to his own house to cook pizza from scratch, after a discussion with his dad, and a particular shitty week. Craig didn’t speak a lot those days, or thanked him, but when he told Tweek that the last time he had cried had actually been that very same day, one look at his eyes told him everything Tweek needed to know.
He groans and drops the phone on the bed, frustrated. So. Turns out Craig might actually be gay for real, and he had gone ballistic on him and stomped over his feelings, like an asshole.
*
Highschool, second year.
Tweek liked his new therapist. She was extremely kind and professional. She even said that with time and work he might even be able to come out of meds! She’s the very first psychiatrist to ever say that to him, and he’s really. fucking. glad. He’s so glad he wants to call Craig. But he doesn’t because that would be weird right? It’s not like they are childhood friends, like he and the others, so he decides to text instead, and finds that Craig actually sent him a message asking how has the session gone an hour or so ago.
He hits send, happily, and his phone tells him he doesn’t have internet connection.
“ACK!” he shouts. “Shit!” he looks around nervously, checking if somebody has actually seen him, which, being almost ten pm on a thursday, is highly unlikely. He starts sweating nervously. He needs google maps to get to the bus stop! His phone is still useful enough to remind him that if he doesn’t get to the bus stop in five minutes, the last bus to South Park is going to leave without him. He grips his useless phone and runs to the bus stop, praying that his memory is right and trusting that he will get there on time.
He really likes his new therapist, but her office was in Denver which is a fucking pain, because his parents are working on the coffee shop, and he’s too young to drive, he has to take the bus. Which he is going to lose, almost definitely if he doesn’t run faster. Shit, he should have totally accepted Clyde’s offer to jog in the weekends.
He gets lost, inevitably, but ends up recognizing a building, because he had thought it looked damn cool on his way to the session, and reaches the bus stop a few minutes past ten. He has lost the bus.
He restarts his phone and decides to sit on the bus stop while he waits for it to come back to life. When it does he checks the connection again, and finds out there isn’t any. He groans and calls his parents.
“Mom?” he says after she picks up.
“... hm? Tweek? Are you in the bus honey?” she ask, and he can hear the distinctive sound of a broom brushing against floor tiles. They must be close to finish tidying up and going home by now.
“...no,” he mutters. “I lost it.”
She sighs on the phone. “... Tweek.”
“I’m sorry!” he says. “My phone just stopped working and I couldn’t use google maps and-”
“It’s alright, your dad will come pick you up, okay? And we will ask Mrs Edwards to not give you the last session next time. Just, stay at the bus stop, don’t move.”
“Okay mom. Thank you,” he whispers on the phone and hangs up. Well, so much for being ‘old enough and responsible to go on his own’, he thinks. And it’s also fucking cold.
He tries to get his data to work but it’s useless. His dad is going to take a fucking lot of time. And he is bored, and starting to suspect of every single person that comes within ten feet. Shit, he is going to get kidnapped for sure.
He decides to distract himself looking at his pictures in his gallery, looking for memes, but turns out he only has photos of the gang goofing around, ugly selfies from Clyde and Jimmy, and Stripe’s photoshoots. Tweek chuckles. There’s actually a video of Craig bitching about Stripe pooping all over his bedroom when he just wanted to shoot a couple funny pics with different hats. Tweek is recording the moment, and laughing behind the camera.
He’s calling Craig before he knows it.
“Tweek?”
“Hi!” he says nervously.
“What's wrong dude? Something happened?” there’s background noise, music actually, and Tweek can recognise the music Craig uses to study. Shit, he has an exam tomorrow. He shouldn’t have called! “Tweek are you okay?”
“Yes!” he sighs. “My phone decided it was the perfect moment to stop working, and, and I couldn’t remember where the bus stop was because I was going to use google maps, and I lost the bus and-”
“Tweek, breath. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” Craig says, soothingly. “Are your parents coming to pick you up?”
“Yes,” he mutters. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have called, you are studying!”
“I’m too tired anyways, I was going to stop now. Don’t worry about it.”
“But!”
“How was the session?”
Tweek sighs. “It was okay. I really like her. She says that I can even get off meds if I work hard enough.”
“That’s awesome Tweek!” Craig says excited, or in his version of excited, Tweek smiles.
“Yeah…” he looks at his shoes. “How’s math for smart people going?”
“Ugh, horrible,” Craig groans. “I don’t even know why I thought advanced math was going to be a good idea.”
“Because Token talked you into it and you have huge ego,” Tweek says, Craig groans again in response.
“Well, now I’d rather be dumb and playing minecraft, to be honest.”
“You are such a nerd,” Tweek chuckles. “This weekend we can all play, when Token has also finished his exams.”
“Yeah,” Craig says. “Aren’t you cold? It must be freezing there.”
And so they keep talking, Twerk repeating multiple times that Craig should hang up and go to sleep, and Craig insisting he was okay, he was going to fail anyways. They talk about nothing and everything, and Tweek doesn’t feel cold at all, or scared. When he realises, it’s almost midnight, and he sees his dad’s car in the distance.
“Craig,” he says, and the other hums sleepily. “My dad is here.”
“Okay. Good. You won’t freeze to death,” he jokes, but it doesn’t sound funny at all, because it’s Craig, still, it’s sweet to him.
“Thank you, by the way,” Tweek adds.
“It’s nothing,” he dismisses. “Text me when you get home.”
“Okay but don’t wait up, just go to sleep okay?”
“Sure,” Craig says mid yawn. “G’night.”
“Good night, I lov-” he cuts himself quickly, breath coming short. “I loved talking to you!” and hangs up.
What the hell was that!
*
Are you going to be home tomorrow?
There. Simple enough. Right? Tweek stares at his message for what must me the tenth time and debates whether to send it or not. Craig must have wanted to talk to him right? That’s why he went to the coffee shop that afternoon, even though he wasn’t supposed to be working today, Craig knew him well enough to guess that was where he would hide from his friends. And still tried to see him. Or something. Maybe it was coincidence! No. Craig actually looked inside, he tells himself. Just send it already!
Tweek : Are you going to be home tomorrow?
Sent: 11:22 pm
Holy shit! He did it! Jesus Christ! He must log out before-
Craig : Yes
Read: 11:22 pm
Craig : Why
Read: 11:22 pm
Oh shit oh shit he was definitely mad, wasn’t he? He sounds mad. To be fair Craig always sounds kinda mad, specially by text, but he must be mad!
Craig : I can go to yours instead, if you prefer
Read: 11:22 pm
Craig : It's whatever
Read: 11:23 pm
Craig : Just
Read: 11:23 pm
Craig : Talk to me, please
Read: 11:23 pm
Craig : Let me explain
Read: 11:23 pm
Okay so, he wasn’t mad. He was… sad? Tweek can’t believe what he’s reading. Craig really must be really upset about all this. Explain? Explain what? It’s Tweek who owes him an apology! And a decent confession, because he has been head over heels for this guy since- well, probably for longer, but he realised in sophomore year. Which had kinda sucked, because for all he knew Craig Tucker was as straight as they come, never once shown interest in a boy. Turns out he was wrong.
Tweek : No! Its cool! I’ll go!
Sent: 11:24 pm
Tweek : And you have NOTHING to be sorry for
Sent: 11:24 pm
Tweek : I should be the one apologizing
Sent: 11:24 pm
Craig : Tweek it’s fine, really
Read: 11:24 pm
Tweek : No its really isn't
Sent: 11:24 pm
Tweek : But i don't wanna be doing this over text
Sent: 11:25 pm
Tweek :You deserve better
Sent: 11:25 pm
Craig : I don't want better
Read: 11:25 pm
Craig : I want u
Read: 11:25 pm
Tweek : JESUS
Sent: 11:25 pm
Tweek : CRAIG
Sent: 11:25 pm
Craig : Ill stop if it makes u uncomfortable
Read: 11:25 pm
Craig : I just really need u to believe me
Read: 11:25 pm
Tweek : No!
Sent: 11:25 pm
Tweek : It doesnt make me uncomfortable
Sent: 11:25 pm
Tweek : Just nervous
Sent: 11:25 pm
Craig : k then
Read: 11:26 pm
Tweek : Ill try to be there after lunch maybe
Sent: 11:26 pm
Tweek : Will you wait for me?
Sent: 11:26 pm
Craig : Always.
Read: 11:26 pm
*
After his conversation with Tweek, Craig felt invincible. He didn’t want to get his hopes up just for them to be crushed, but maybe Clyde was right and Tweek did feel something for him. As far as he knew, however, Tweek wanted to talk, maybe too plainly and completely reject him, to still be friends. That was good enough.
When he woke up the next day, he read the conversation all over again, cringing at how sappy he sounded but whatever. He had felt so powerful, like reality isn't even a threat anymore now that his dreams were turning to be true, that he has slipped up.
“Are you crazy?!” his father shouts banging his fist on the table. Tricia looks up from his phone worriedly.
“Thomas!”
“My son is not a- a-” his father is a lost of words, wide eyes staring at him like he had never seen him before. “You are not-”
“I am,” Craig says, frowning. “I’m gay.”
“What are you even going on about?!” his father gets up, the chair screeching and throws his hands on the air. “Is this a stupid joke?”
Both his sister and his mom are looking at him worriedly. “Is that it? It’s this for a stupid video? I thought you were above that son.”
“Why would I joke about that,” he says flatly. His father is still standing, and watches speechless as he picks up his breakfast and leaves the dishes on the sink.
“I-” his father says, dropping on the chair, eyes lost somewhere on the floor. “We did everything right. We-” he looks up searching for his wife’s support. “We took you to church. Every sunday.”
“That’s where I learnt that God loves all his creatures equally,” Craig says looking straight at him. He picks a carrot from the fridge, bangs the door when he closes it and goes to feed his guinea pig.
“Thomas…” Laura sighs.
“Can’t you understand that in my time we just didn’t accept this?”
Tricia puts his glass down with much more force than necessary and follows his brother upstairs, not bothering to clean her stuff.
“Patricia Tucker!” his father shouts after her. She doesn’t even flip him the bird.
“It’s Craig, Thomas. There’s nothing you have to accept. It’s not a fucking choice. He has my blue eyes and he is six feet like you and he also happens to be gay,” his wife says picking her own dishes. “Did you have a problem accepting he is good at physics too?”
“Of course not!” he bumps his fist on the table. “But this is- this is fucking different, Laura, and you know it!”
“How?” she ask fiercessly. “How is this any different!”
“It’s just- it’s not natural!” he says looking to the floor. “The Bible-”
“You and I both know that’s bullshit,” she says deadpan. “You also think now all of a sudden the Earth is flat and we come from God’s rib? Thomas, please.”
“I don’t know!” he rubs his forehead. “Maybe it’s not so wrong. I don’t know. I - I just don’t want it to be my son.”
Laura sits down and puts a hand on his husband’s. “He’s been hurting for years. Because of us. Because he couldn’t be himself. We were proud thinking we taught them to never hide, and all this time, he’s been hiding from us , Thomas.”
He puts his hand on top of his wife and gives her a sad smile.
“He also got all the intelligence from you, huh?” she smiles back and gets up to kiss him on the forehead.
“Go talk to him please.” Thomas nods. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Craig is sitting on his bed, eyes closed and headphones at maximum volume, music loud enough his father can hear it as he enters the bedroom.
“Son, you need to listen to me.” he says sitting on the bed softly. Craig opens one eyes and pauses the song.
“What.” his father stares at him in silence long enough that he wonders if he should resume listening to his music while he makes up his mind.
“I’m sorry Craig.”
“I can’t be something because you want me to be, dad. I have to be myself.” he says as if he has, (and actually has) repeated it 100 times.
“I know.” he sighs. “I used to think being gay was a choice. But you don’t get to decide.”
Craig doesn’t say anything and keeps his mouth shut. He knows how hard this must be for his father. It was hard enough for himself.
“I don’t understand this stuff. But I do know that if you try and resist it, you make yourself miserable your whole life.” Thomas says. “I raise you to ultimately be happy. And if you aren’t I failed as a parent. I can’t be the reason you are miserable.”
Craig gulps down and resist the urge to hug him. They don’t do that, they flip each other.
“Everyone was so proud of you, I was just being selfish. But I want to be proud of you, too.” Craig gives up and hugs him. “I love you son.”
“Love you too dad.”
*
“EEEEK!”
“Hi Tweek.”
“OhmygodohmygodohmyGOD-”
“Tweek. Please. Breathe with me, huh?” Craig turns the other boy around slowly, carefully. “In and out, c’mon. In.”
Tweek slowly starts breathing normally and Craig takes a step back. His friend is still not looking at him, eyes fixed on his shoes. Tweek usually does that, it’s an old habit. He used to joke about how he would recognize people by their shoes, instead of faces. Craig’s were worn out blue nikes. The soles were supposed to be white, but white is a relative color when time and mud fades it. If one would look close enough, this ones had a dent where Stripe had once munched on them. Tweek was there to see that moment. He can see it now. In, out, in.
“I’m not good with words!” he shrieks. Craig nods, gaze unfaltering. “I’m- I’m good with music, but you wouldn’t understand it!”
“I-”
“I mean you would because it’s you. It’s you and you always seem to understand me,” Tweek whispers. “It’s always been you. I guess.”
“Tweek-”
“What I mean is! ACK!” Tweek shoves his hands on his pockets and takes out a crumpled paper. He attempts to smooth it, but his hands are shaking so bad the poor paper is flapping around uselessly. “I’d like to. I’d really like to put in words this. And, and be able to tell you! But I’m no good.”
“Yes you are,” Craig interrupts. Tweek ignores him.
“So. I tried looking for inspiration in songs lyrics. Somebody must have written about what I’m feeling before, right? And way better than me, for sure,” he laughs. “But I ended up- uh- kind of just plainly copying them? Made a remix. But, no music. Because it’s- gah, it’s a letter.”
“Twe-”
“So!” Tweek looks up, staring holes on Craig’s eyes, freezing him. “Listen.” Craig nods again, and listens.
“There's n-no combination of words I could put on the back of a postcard, I could sing a thousand songs about you, and still that would not do, there’s a million tiny things that make the things that you do, you. That’s- jesus, that’s so repetitive oh god-”
“Tweek,” Craig says, putting a hand around Tweek’s trembling ones. “I love it.”
“No!” Tweek shrieks. “No! You can’t love it! That part was GAH- that part was bullshit. Shut shut- up and listen!”
Craig lifts his hands up defensively, but sends a small, tiny smile on Tweek’s way. He takes a breath. Stares at his paper. Damn he put time into this. “Okay. Jesus Christ. " He breathes deep and focus on his messy writing. Here goes nothing. "Yours is the first face that I saw. I think I was blind before I met you. Now I don’t know where I am, I don’t know where I’ve been, but I know where I want to go. Every now and then I get a little bit lonely, a little bit restless, a little bit helpless, a little bit terrified. Every now and then I fall apart. But then I see the look in your eyes, and from the day that I met you I stopped feeling afraid. You make me laugh and show me how, just how good this life can be. And in our moments filled with joy, is where I live, where I am free. There’s something in your smile that gives me strength to carry on, and there something in your words that lingers even when your gone.” Tweek risks a glance from his paper to look at Craig, whose eyes are wild and so, so open. He’s blushing madly too. He smirks.
“And so, I thought I’d let you know, after all this time, I'm still into you. And these things take forever, I, especially, am slow. But I realize that I need you, and I wondered if I could come home.” He sees movement, and is amazed to see that Craig is actually rubbing his eyes softly. “Take my hand, take my whole life, too. For I can't help falling in love with you. So if you want to be with me, with these things, there’s no telling we just have to wait and see. Besides, maybe this time is different? I mean, I really think you like me.”
He looks up, shyly, god this was so sappy. But Craig seemed to love it, because he was looking at him like- like he just pulled out of his ass a romantic movie grand gesture, like confessing his love for him to the entire town , or high school, at least, instead of copying a bunch of love songs in a crusty paper.
“I do,” Craig says and there’s still tears rolling down his left cheek, and Tweek gathers all the courage Craig always says he has, and brushes them softly. Then leaves his hand there for good measure. Craig nuzzles into it. “I do. I like you a whole fucking lot. Maybe more than that but that’s too mu-”
“Too much pressure.” Tweek chuckles. “This okay?”
“Of course it is,” Craig whispers into his palm and then kisses it. Tweek’s brain explodes a little. And Craig laughs. “Come here already.”
He pulls lightly and soon enough Tweek is falling on him, hands on his chest, and he’s embracing him tightly. Two years. Two fucking years waiting for this moment. Two years of yearning, of wanting so much his heart almost spills over everytime Craig so much as looked at him. Two years of getting up thinking about Craig and going to bed hoping to dream of him as well. Craig holds him tighter.
“Craig-” he whines. “Craig, I can’t breath.”
The asshole holds even tighter and kisses his head.
“Craig! I’m- I’m going to punch you if you don’t-” Twerk pushes lightly and Craig lets go, smiling. Then lifts him up quickly, so Tweek is sitting on his porch fence. He hides on his neck.
“You are a cuddler,” Tweek says, laughing, one hand playing with Craig’s hair, the other laced with Craig’s own, fingers intertwined.
“I’m yours.” he whispers on his neck. And Tweek lifts his chin up with his hand, just barely, to brush their lips together.
It’s not fireworks and a choir singing but it’s a feeling, a feeling of rightness. Of belonging, deep in his soul, maybe deeper. Of love and being loved in its rawest form and none of them can get enough of it. Tweek gasps on Craig mouth and hangs for dear life on his shoulders, while Craig grips his waist tightly.
Later, much later, Tweek will notice that they are at the Tucker’s garden, and Craig’s parents can totally see them, and panic. And later, in burrowed pajamas and cuddling in Craig’s bed, he will text their group chat, and Jimmy, Token and Clyde will answer with nice messages, Clyde even a voice note, crying, which they will listen to in the morning while sharing breakfast, and Tweek will sip at his coffee and think about how lucky he is, and a small part of him will whispershout in his brain that he’d like to wake up like this every morning, staring at Craig’s dumb face still in the process of waking up, forgetting to put on his stoned-face facade.
But now, well, he’s just kissing his best friend recklessly, because he’s 17 and in love, and convinced, only time will tell if he’s right or not, that this is what he is supposed to do for the rest of his life.