Chapter Text
"Make sure you sign in," you chimed as Pete, the goth guy in your class, walked into the open classroom where the two of you took your 2D Studio course. He rolled his eyes, but signed the art lab log, anyways.
You had lucked out, and were able to butt a couple of your scheduled lab monitor times against your art classes, and, in this case, even hold the lab in the same room. You had about five minutes in between this lab and the class, so that you could run to the lower floor of the building and clock out. So far, you were enjoying the job; the semester was still fresh, so not many students were attending the labs, yet, and you were practically being paid to do homework and hang out.
"You brought your stuff for the collage, right?" Pete asked you, flipping his dyed bangs out of his face as pulled out a stack of old magazines, a pencil bag, and a sketchbook. He carried them over to the table you had set yourself up at, setting them down.
"Yep," you informed him, patting the stack of recycled papers and cloths you had precured for your group project. You also had a swath of paper and rubber cement set aside for when class started, but planning was what the two of you needed done before class. You were the only one in the class that seemed willing to pair off with Pete for this project.
Their loss, I get to work one-on-one with the cute goth boy.
"Is there a window open? Its fucking freezing in here," Pete grumbled as he sat across from you, opting to keep his jacket on.
"Uh, no?" you responded, confused. The room was normal, and you were fine in your short sleeved, black, graphic tee.
Casting that aside, you started flipping through the magazines, which were mostly gothic in theming, with a few paranormal mags, and the type of local magazines that you would occasionally get in the mail for free. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, as you both looked though the magazines for inspiration, with Pete stopping every once in a while to check out the supplies that you brought.
A lot of ravens, candles, and skulls...
"Hey, you know those angels that have three heads, cherubim?" you asked, and continued once Pete cautiously nodded, "we should make one of those, but, like, fucked up and edgy, give it a heretic spin. We can use skulls for the heads, and there are so many flying ravens in here whose wings we can use."
You could have sworn you got a smile out of Pete, and he fumbled through a magazine he had previously been looking through. When he found what he was looking for, he held it up, pointing to a large, full page image of a cross legged figure, "we can give it a Baphomet body, that'll be pretty goth."
"Oh, yeah, that'll be perfect!" you told him, and watched as he brought his sketchbook in front of him, and began sketching out the collage plan. You found yourself greatly impressed, and equally envious, with the speed at which he was able to get the idea down onto the paper. Although the sketch was detailed, it was also somewhat simple, getting the concept across with very little effort, adding to your envy. And perhaps making him a little more attractive than he already was.
"So, maybe something like this," he slid the sketchbook around so you could get a better look at it, "we can use some of the cloth to..."
You and Pete talked over the collage plans for a few minutes, bouncing additional ideas off each other, until a voice interrupted your work session, "there you are!"
You looked up to see Clyde entering the "room," a smile across his face, and a plastic bag in hand, "dude, the layout in this building is so weird."
"Hey, Clyde!" you waved, as Pete shifted his attention to his phone, ignoring the newcomer walking towards you. "What are you doing here? I thought you had morning classes?" you asked when he reached your spot.
"Yeah, but I had to meet with my study group," Clyde explained, setting the bag down on your table and taking off his jacket, draping it over an empty chair, "and I remembered you mentioned doing your thing, like, right before your class, and Craig said you had a rough night the other day-"
"Wait, Craig told you about that?" you questioned, feeling slightly horrified. Who else knows you regularly stayed up until dawn, and that your friend walked you home like some lost, little kid?
"Yep! So I went to the cafeteria and got you-" he opened the plastic bag and produced a can of [favorite soft drink] and a cookie, "-these!"
The road your heart was paved with free food, and you accepted it, forgetting about your previous horror, "aw, thank you, Clyde! You can hang out while Pete and I work on our project, you just need to sign in, I need to keep track of who comes in."
Clyde seemed to just now notice the guy next him and the collage supplies on the table, "oh, uh, ok," and walked over to where you pointed in order to sign in. As Clyde signed in, Pete sat his phone down, and began cutting out images for the collage in silence.
Sorry, Pete, but this conformist is a friend. And he brought me food.
Clyde returned to the table and pulled up a chair for himself, and rested his elbow on the table. He looked at you for a moment, before speaking up, "dude, those dark circles are gnarly. You should try using cold tea bags to bring the swelling down. I've done it before, it works pretty well!"
You touched above your cheek bone, taken aback by Clyde's statement.
They're that obvious?
"You would give someone unasked for beauty advice, you Zac Efron wannabe," Pete looked up at Clyde with a flip of his hair, setting his scissors down. Despite what he was trying to look like, he was paying attention to your conversation.
"What's that supposed to mean?! You're the guy who cakes himself in foundation to hide his acne scars," Clyde sat up, his mouth quirked in annoyance. You watched, not sure about what to do.
The blush on Pete's face had to be pretty bad to show up through said foundation, but he calmly stood up and shot back with a smirk, "at least I don't deny that I wear makeup."
Noticing Clyde start to get up as well, you quickly shot up and spoke firmly, hands planted on the table, "No. Both of you sit your asses back down, right now."
I am not getting in trouble because some stupid guys got into over makeup in my lab.
They seemed a little shocked, but cautiously sat back down. Pete returned to cutting magazine images, and Clyde slumped in his chair.
Hoping to break some of the tension, you sketched out an idea in your sketchbook, and showed it to Pete, "so, I think should cut out some candles and place them in the foreground..."
When you slid your sketchbook aside, Clyde suddenly perked up, and gave what you could only describe as puppy eyes, "[Y/N], can I look at your sketchbook?"
"Uh, sure? But there's-" you agreed, but were cut off by an excitable Clyde practically leaping on your sketchbook.
"Awesome!" he began flipping through the pages, and his face fell, replacing his excited expression with a confused and slightly disturbed one, "...huh. The blood stuff is pretty cool, I guess."
"Wait, I wanna see," Pete suddenly stopped mid-cut, and got up to look at your sketchbook over Clyde's shoulder.
You watched awkwardly as they looked through your sketches, feeling a little bad that you weren't able to warn Clyde that most of the stuff you made could be considered horror art.
"Nice," Pete simply stated, flipping his hair.
"Thank you for coming to Tweek Bros, have a wonderful night!" you told a consumer in your consumer-service voice as you handed them their drink. You were making the orders tonight, with Tweek manning the register. Tweek foot was only recently freed from his brace, so having him sitting at the register was probably for the best.
Once the customer walked away, you let yourself yawn. You had already drained the energy drink you had brought to work with you, but still had a few more hours left on your shift. You drummed your fingers against the display case for a moment, debating with yourself.
Sorry, Karen.
"Hey, Tweek, can you hand me a cup?" you asked Tweek, making up your mind.
"Sure," Tweek handed you a cup, and continued talking as you decided what to make yourself, "I don't know if my parents told you, but we're gonna be closed next Saturday. We're gonna be having a booth at the Fall Fest."
"Fall Fest?" you questioned, pulling up your phone's calendar, noting that next Saturday would be the 26th of September.
"Its a small event the town throws, its mostly just local businesses set up in booths down Shi Tpa Street," Tweek explained. In the almost a month since you moved here, Tweek seemed much more comfortable around you, in your opinion. It was considerably easier to talk and hold a conversation with him, now.
"Huh! That sounds pretty cool, actually," you admitted, starting to make your coffee, and looked over to Tweek, winking, "I'll have to give you a visit, then!"
Pink dusted Tweek's cheeks, and he tugged slightly at a lock of his hair, "y-you should! It can be fun, sometimes there's games and stuff."
Tweek talked about past Fall Fests, but as you made your coffee, you found pausing at one of the final steps. You lifted a spoon out of the container of what you were told was the family's "secret ingredient," tilting the spoon and watching as the crystalline, white powder fell back in.
...I know it's not sugar, and I doubt its something like salt.
"Hey, Tweek..." you quietly asked, hoping not to draw attention from the few customers in the building, "what is this stuff?"
Tweek got up and walked over to see what you were talking about, and twitched, trying to stay quiet, "I'm - GAH- pretty sure it's caffeine powder, man. My parents never told me what it is."
"They... never told you?" you asked, slowly placing the spoon back into the container.
"Uh, y-yeah, I've been drinking their coffee for a while, but I stopped putting it in mine. I'm trying to cut back on caffeine, and I'm way more jittery when I use it," Tweek informed you, "it's really bitter, too."
You felt a little uneasy, and wrapped up, skipping that step, "Yikes. I think I'll pass on that, then. I read online that it's super easy to overdose on caffiene powder."
"WHAT?" Tweek jumped, horrified, surprising you, almost making you spill you coffee.
Jesus Christ, his parents are going to get someone killed, serving their coffee like this...