Chapter Text
It was awful. Tweek received blow after blow. Cartman laughing hysterically, stopping briefly to talk to Tweek. “You really are pathetic, you fag.” he sneered. Tweek had been talking to butters in the hall, when he accidentally ran into Cartman. After school that day, the overweight boy tracked him down and got what he called revenge.
“I didn't m-mean to!” Tweek exclaimed. He wasn't normally a fighter, but he tried to stand up for himself, fighting back to his best ability.
The next hard punch to the side sent the blond haired boy to the floor, and then cartman stepped quickly onto Tweeks leg, but it was only enough to cause bruising. Tweek cried out loudly in pain. “NGHHH!” He hissed, trying to hold everything back.
Then an angel came. Craig, who had gotten out of school a little later than the rest of the students, for whatever reason. At the age of fifteen, the only things that changed, was his voice, and him getting far more attractive.
“Yo, fatass." He called out at cartman. This diversion allowed Tweek to crawl away. He barely looked behind him, stopping only long enough to catch Craig’s eyes and give him a thankful glance. As fast as he could, running and tripping, he made it home, holding back tears and groaning in pain. Everything was just too much.
When Tweek got home, the house was empty. Only him and the whirring of a heater left on by his parents that morning. As he rushed to the bathroom, he flicked the tv onto the news quickly, to make him feel less as lone. In the bathroom, the search for bandages began. He could see dark stains growing to a larger size in several places. Cartmans temper really needed taming.
Sat down on the toilet seat, he shakily unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off. The boy winced with pain, letting out a few quick shrieks as he tried to clean himself up. A loud knock came from the front door, but Tweek stayed put, keeping quiet too his best ability. Suspecting it had been some salesman, or a kidnapper from the Government.
His wounds were bad, but not hospital bad. All of this because he had a few mental disorders. ADD, paranoia, just to name a few. Everything he did to try to hide it made it worse. He had been taking different prescriptions for years now, and nothing seemed to work for too long. Except the coffee. It was such a small thing, and everyone saw it as a problem. But it was the solution. Not the therapists, or the doctors, or the pills. The coffee, the thing that helped him remember he was alive. It was so comforting. A consistent variable that never changed. Unlike everything else.
Tweek let out a loud scream, waking himself up from his train of thoughts. He hadn’t realized how bad the anti-bacterial ointment would hurt. “G-god damnit Tweek. You’re s-so loud! Ngh.” He hissed at himself. “If I k-keep being loud, the-then they’ll hear me. They’ll kn-know I’m here, and then they’ll kidnap me, and steal my brain and-“ he cut himself off, letting out a deep sigh. It was difficult to distract himself from these thoughts, but he had important issues to deal with.
Hours passed, filled with many cups of coffee,loud shouting at the tv, and sobbing, before his parents got home. When they came in they didn’t even comment on the bruised and bandaged boy. Just shooed him off to his room from the couch. He went willingly, scurrying up the stairs with minor difficulty. “Gah!”he had shouted beforehand, looking at the floor.
His room, a mess of half finished projects. From scattered writings, to drawing, and even some building with plastic toys from his childhood. The only things that seemed to be finished, were some drawings. Most of them were made up of blues, purples, and showed off the galaxy and stars above. But a few were pictures of flowers he’d drawn. Above his picture he had some photographs he had taken, or been given, featuring his friends, or plants. In the middle there was one of his old friend, Craig tucker, that he had taken when they were in elementary school.
Craig Tucker. The boy who had saved his life many times in the past month. It was always like that. After elementary school, and their fight, they stopped talking. Craig would nod to tweek if the two passed, but that was it. It made tweek confused, and scared. Even more so, was the fact that Craig seemed to be waiting to beat Cartman, or even some of the older students if they ever tried to bloody tweek. He’d let Tweek run off, to safety, and wouldn’t say a word.
Tweek would hang out with Clyde and token still, sometimes. Craig would be there every now and then, but he would never interact, just watch from the sidelines. Once when Tweek, Token, and Clyde were playing basketball, Craig watched, sitting on the bleachers and smoking. Tweek had been on a prescription that he thought would work. It had been, for a week.
“Craig, those things w-will kill you. Ngh! You should st-stop smoking them.” Tweek had called. Craig just shrugged, but put it out. After that, he never smoked around Tweek. And the blond never knew why.
Tweek phased back into reality. His eyes focusing on the photograph he was holding. The one of Craig laughing. Even as a child, Craig had been so perfect looking. The way his eyes crinkled, and his cheeks turned bright red. Tweek started laughing quietly. But it stopped shortly, his eyes focusing on his hands. One, wrapped with bandages. The other, had multiple brightly coloured bandaids on it.
Tweek got off his bed, which had sunflower sheets, and a light green comforter, and walked over to his desk. Hanging the picture back up, next to the other photos he had of his friends, and sat on the white wood chair. Homework. He had so much that he’d been putting off. Tweek let out a loud “Gah” and opened his laptop. Homework could wait.
The blond boy looked through Facebook, scrolling past memes, and happy birthday posts for people he didn’t like. He spotted something strange, Craig had posted. It was a simple picture of his blue chrome Harley, with a boy on it. Kenny. Kenny was on Craig’s harley. The caption simple said, “See ya.” Tweek s mind went spinning. He scrolled through the comments quickly looking for an explanation, but Craig had not responded to Stan’s, or Clyde’s, or Thomas’ comments. No ones.
Where were they going?