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From age six to age seventeen, totalling just under eleven years, Tweek had worked at his parents' coffeeshop with little complaint, he'd been born into the business and had been raised to work, afterall, he didn't really know anything other than working, even when the other kids his age were riding bikes he rarely got time off to do the same.
Sure, his parents made him work most of the time and didn't pay him, but he thought for sure they at least loved him. He sure loved them. He could be a moody teen sometimes, but he'd always had good relationships with them and there was a huge amount of trust between them. He baked with his mom and did silly dances with his dad.
So why had they done this to him?
This being the state he was currently in, in a hospital bed after a horrible overdose on meth that was found in his system and in his thermos of coffee, and the carafe at work. Hell, the stuff was everywhere, in the back room, in his parents' bedroom, in the basement he never went in because it had flooded back when he was eight and it scared him, because he worried that it would flood again when he was in there and he would drown.
It wasn't in his bedroom, though. The only clean room in the entire house, because he didn't know anything about the meth, despite the tale a couple of the officers had tried to spin about the mentally ill minor being the real ringleader, not the two adults who were already wellknown meth users and weapon smugglers. Thankfully those accusations were dropped as quickly as they were made.
He slipped in and out of consciousness for the first few weeks, staying awake for less than an hour at a time and not really processing anything around him, the people who funnelled in and out of his private room were just blobs of varying size, height, and colour.
The tall, thin, green blob would stroke his hair and whisper soft things to him and take his hand, and he would find the strength to squeeze it and gurgle out a weak, raspy "Mama?"
The blob didn't sound or smell like his mom, but it had that same energy, and it felt like a mom, so he called it that.
The biggest, tallest, orange blob would fumble around the room, sometimes even knocking things over, and would speak in a harsher tone, but it wasn't angry or demanding, more rough like a father who just wanted to know the facts. He called out "Dad?" once, a single tear running down his cheek, and the blob reached its' hand out and sat it on his head, like he was a loyal dog, or more like the blob didn't quite know how to express feelings, and he felt love; and a lot of heat. The giant hand was really warm! It definitely wasn't his dad, but it was a dad.
The smallest blob was turquoise, a nice shade of oceanic blue, but their personality was anything but tranquil. The way their voice sounded wasn't lilting like green or brash but warm like orange, but squeaky and snarky, like a bratty sibling. Turquoise mostly kept away from his face, choosing to instead tie things to his wrist or paint his nails, he knew because he could smell the polish.
Navy Blue was nasally and curt, not much of a conversationalist, and could go from smelling like cheap deodorant one day to smelling like a barn the next, but every time navy blue came, his heart rate would speed up, and his brain would turn to mush. (Well, more mush than it already was.)
Navy Blue mostly sat by themself, the other blobs never sat around with them, and they didn't talk much, but when they did Tweek knew they were reading from something; a book, their phone, once he thought they were reading from a poster on the wall. They sat with both of Tweek's hands clasped in theirs and would sometimes pull them up to their face to kiss or wipe away tears, and Tweek would cry too. He was the one who caused that pain.
When he came to, eyes finally able to focus and brain able to perceive his environment, he was alone and afraid, but then his therapist burst in, Dr. Norris. He'd been Tweek's therapist for seven long years and had suffered almost as much as Tweek himself had just from hearing what went on inside the poor blond's head, but unlike Cartman's therapist, he didn't give up on his patient or his life, he was a good man who was gentle but firm, like a grandpa.
"You were technically dead for a little while there, kiddo." Well, he was usually more gentle than that.
Tweek's eyes went wide like dinner plates and Norris fumbled over his words to correct himself, but he'd just accidentally told the truth, not a lie or an exaggeration. Tweek's heart had stopped more than once during surgery, and even worse, the doctors had been worried about possible brain death from oxygen deprivation. It was all a lot for Tweek to take in, and he burst into tears. That was when Navy Blue ran in, clearly because he was standing right outside the door and itching to be with Tweek from the very start.
Craig's stupid jacket still smelled of a barn, and he probably hadn't washed it in weeks, because it was the only jacket he owned, but when he ran up, threw himself down on the bed and wrapped his arms around Tweek so tight it felt like he might split in half, everything felt so safe.
"I'm here honey, I'm here."
The rest of the family rushed in after him, Laura, Thomas, and Patricia all surrounding his bedside and looking so relieved and happy to see him that it almost made him start crying again. He looked up at them all, absolute love and adoration in their eyes, and then he tilted his head over to Craig, and Craig looked back at him with dark bags under his eyes and happier than Tweek had ever seen him before, and he opened his mouth to say the first thing he could think to say.
"Man, you told me you were gonna shave that shitty moustache!"
Tweek had a lot more to go through at the hospital before they could discharge him, first they dumped a buttload meds onto him and ripped out some wires that probably shouldn't have been pulled so hard, and then he was free to be sent down to physiotherapy because he'd been cooped up in bed so long that his legs wobbled like a baby deer. His left leg just couldn't catch up or support him properly and sharp, hot pains would shoot up his thigh if he strained it, so he was given a heavy metal cane, a little like Jimmy's crutches. His first thought was that Jimmy and Timmy would be so excited to have another cripple, and his second was that if Craig got a little annoying then he had a permanent weapon. When Craig, finally cleanly shaven and baby faced, meandered in with two bottles of soda from the vending machine he gave a single nod towards the cane and then announced "Play ball." Before hurling one bottle at Tweek, and Tweek had hit a home run with it.
After that stunt the doctors and nurses rushed Tweek through his treatment as fast as possible and discharged him before the month was up. He was a little late for senior year, but Craig had been bringing all his homework home for him.
At the mention of 'home', Tweek's stomach was in knots. He hadn't seen the house in months, but heard from the Tuckers that it had been raided by the police and they'd knocked the front door off the hinges with a battering ram.
"And don't worry, Chai is at our house, we've been taking good care of him." He sighed with relief at the mention of his parrot being safe and well, but as the car parked in the driveway and he looked up at the familiar maroon house his smile fell. The fucking battering ram was still there in the grass, leaving a fainter green underneath, and the doorway had been poorly and clumsily boarded up. He doubted there was even anything left inside, but he supposed he'd know when he got in and finally went home.
"If you can't go in that's okay, we can videocall and you tell me what you need me to grab."
Tweek blinked.
"Why are we getting my stuff?"
"'Cause you want your clothes and your toothbrush and your games and your legos and stuff with you, yeah? It'd be weird if you had to keep running to and from our house."
Tweek's heart dropped when he put the pieces together and realised what was happening.
"But- but I'm already a legal adult, and I-I already caused so much trouble for you guys and-" He let out a choked sob and slumped over back into Craig's arms.
"You're not a burden, Tweek." Laura had dropped the back of her seat down so she could slide back and rub her hands over his shoulders. Tricia was a little squished in her seat with her knees up to her chest, but she was nodding along and quietly agreeing with her mom, looking a little teary eyed, which made Tweek feel even more guilty that he was upsetting her.
"You're part of the family." Laura assured him, and the two siblings nodded eagerly.
"Yeah, you're like my other brother!" Trish squeaked.
"You're gonna live with us." Thomas couldn't put his seat down, but he twisted his arm around to slap it over Tweek's knee.
"You're a Tucker, Tweek. You always have been and you always will be."
Tweek Tucker sounded much nicer.
Tweek didn't own much stuff, he'd been a rowdy and clumsy kid who accidentally broke a lot of toys and ripped a lot of clothes, and as he got older he'd never spent much of his allowance on physical things, it mostly went towards online games, so the family had his entire room packed up within the hour while Tweek wandered. He'd lived in the house his whole life, but now it felt unknown, like a stranger to him. He stared at the brown wooden doors and twisted the knobs like he'd never noticed them before, and he was cautious as he entered each room. The bathroom and guest room were mostly bare except for the essentials, and the drawers were filled with the usual junk that he didn't need, though he still pocketed any loose change he found just in case, just in case he needed twenty eight cents all in pennies and a two euro coin.
His parents room felt unnaturally cold, and he felt like he was breaking the law as he rifled through drawers, through socks and underwear and his mom's jewelry and makeup boxes. He was looking for his documents, which were kept safe under the bed and not in their dresser, he knew.
There was one picture on the dresser, a simple silver frame of a small, young, three person family. A pair of twenty year old brunets and their three year old wild haired blond son, grinning widely with a big gap in his teeth and their soft hands on his shoulders as they smiled gently.
He looked up, at the mirror attached to the dresser, at the wild haired blond with the few strands of brown at his roots and the slight gap between his two front teeth, and he took the framed photo, holding it face down, and put it in his XL sized coat pocket.
His important documents were right where they were supposed to be, under the bed in an old suitcase that he used to pack up some of his valuables.
McDonald's was the food of choice for bringing home a new family member, sat squished in the back between two squabbling siblings as they argued over his switch and his ability to play a visual novel, and they even remembered that he was a vegetarian as they ordered enough to feed them over twice or even three times.
It felt like any old sleepover, one where Tweek would be watching the clock and silently dreading when it was time to go home or go to work, and there was a looming dread in the back of his mind that it was all just a wonderful dream and when the morning came he'd have to leave, but he shook out his lion mane and squeezed his hands together until his knuckles cracked to reassure himself that there was no time limit and no other house to go back to, just the Tuckers' home. His home. Craig had barbecue sauce all over his mouth and hands but Tweek didn't even push him away when he leaned in for a side hug, though did when he went in for a kiss and demanded he brush his teeth first. Laura told them that while they were up there anyway they might as well just go to bed, because it was midnight and Thomas was carrying Trish up. Craig trashed on Tweek's bamboo toothbrush like he did all the time, and Tweek threatened to toss his electric one into the toilet.
For all of Craig's life he'd had a single bed but now there was a double bed sat in the same spot with the same old Red Racer branded sheets and pillowcases and the galaxy print throw at the foot of the bed that Tweek had bought him when they were fourteen.
"We ordered it like a month ago but it took forever to be delivered." Craig shook his head.
"The store is right down the block but they kept saying 'all our drivers are busy but you can't just hire a U-Haul and get it, blah blah. Dumbasses."
Tweek nodded along and giggled at Craig's impression of the idiot on the other end of the phone. It sounded a lot like the voice he used to imitate and mock Clyde.
"I've been sleeping in it fine, got lots of practice in." He assured, and then he got right into bed, rolled himself over to the far right and slammmed his knee against the wall, but attempted to play it cool and noninjured as he patted the empty left side and invited Tweek in. They'd shared his old bed right up until that point and it was nice to finally have his own space in the bed and not be on the verge of falling off at every moment, but they still got in as close as possible, noses touching and legs interlocked like always, and it felt so right, so practiced and so natural and normal. In the morning they'd have breakfast together and share conversations with the Tuckers and live together and for once Tweek didn't feel any looming dread or anxiety, he finally felt like he belonged and was wanted, and as Craig leaned in to kiss his forehead, he squeezed his hand tight and closed his eyes.