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Tweek is, as everyone in this accursed town knows, a Buddhist. Not a formal one, since he isn't as interested in achieving nirvana unlike his parents, but he is well aware of its beliefs and how Tweek's entire existence has violated its sacred precepts. He was a complete failure at following Buddhism; not even meditating and finding his happy place in the wasteland he calls his mind could help him find the acclaimed nirvana his parents have been searching for. Such displays of Buddhism are prominent across their yard, having their own Buddhist statue to honor their religion. Tweek has always thought it to be rather overkill, because you do not see the Marsh family with a crucified Jesus in front of their home or the Broflovskis displaying Jewish trinkets every day, aside from their usual holidays.
Tweek thinks it's for the customers; to catch their eyes and make them believe they are zen and are achieving enlightenment through drinking their coffee. Because once you take a sip of Tweek and Bro's coffee, you will exit the shop wanting, craving for more. Until you can only taste the absolute bittersweet taste of their coffee, clouding your mind with useless visions. Making you lose your senses. Everything in his life will mean nothing if it comes to drinking the caffeine supplied by his father.
Tweek should know; he's memorized the five basic principles of Buddhism, and they warn him to stave off intoxicants that cloud his mind. While he is not entirely sure what intoxicants are, he knows that coffee does cloud his mind. Sometimes, if he has too much intake of the beverage — courtesy of his mother reflexively giving him too much coffee — he would begin seeing everything in a dazed, hazy manner. He could not see anything without color and vibrance which still hurt his eyes. Craig himself has been concerned over the various times he has witnessed Tweek zoning out, floating to the sky.
He's violated that rule. He knows that Buddhism perceives human life as suffering, but he knows he can never ascend through said suffering. He supposes he could not attain heaven his parents seek, and he shall be left behind to wallow in the pain of human life.
Well, if he's with Craig throughout the journey through pain…
Which leads him to his current predicament right now.
Because, for all intents and purposes, Craig has bought into the Buddha Box craze (god dammit Cartman) and is now ignoring Tweek despite his best efforts.
Best efforts include tugging on the sleeves of his blue jacket, getting only a rumble in response. He continues to tap at his phone in a way that completely annoys Tweek— his tapping is less methodical and more absent-minded. It grinds on the blonde's gears, causing him to twitch even faster.
The entire Buddha Box trend is the most awful thing Tweek has ever seen Cartman think of to manipulate the masses. Well, not the worst, but it irritates Tweek over the fact that Cartman used his apparent social anxiety to his own advantage. This is entirely bullshit because Tweek and the others are well aware Cartman is simply faking his social anxiety. Hell, he barely showcases any goddamn symptoms when it comes to it! And the fact that the others, while not actually believing in Cartman's diagnosis, begins to take advantage of psychiatrists giving them false diagnosis in order to achieve that damn Buddha Box.
Tweek knows what it does: it separates people from outside influence, trapping them into a state of stasis and their own wonderland on the basis of a phone. Burying themselves in the places their phones could never take them, all because they are so damn selfish they only want to see what comforts them.
Tweek has been born in a world that wasn't kind to him, never pandered to him nor accommodated to his own anxiety. In fact, his world turned a blind eye to his own predicament, seeing his jittery form as his paranoia gets the better of him.
He knows — god, he knows — that his company isn't as ideal as people make it sound. The constant stimming, trembling, shaking, and outbursts he does is one of the reasons most people would not want to be near him. Apparently, he distracts them in classes. His shrieks were annoying. They hate his anxiety taking control of him at the most inopportune times.
He can't help it. Cartman and his stupid bandwagons can.
Yet they are the ones being pandered, babied, and excused, even.
So he could not understand why Craig had been manipulated by Cartman into putting a box over his head. A box that did not even have any brandings aside from the fact it was just a box. A box to keep him distant in the real world, disillusioned.
He thought he and Craig had been going steady; despite the rocky start which involved traumatic drawings between them drawn by the Asian girls, they had gotten over their heads over being labeled as gay. Craig is… nice to him, in a way people, not even his parents, ever were to him. While yes there were times his boyfriend has pissed him off by being factual and nonchalant in the face of danger, he grounds him like a bird landing on a tree and staying.
He was the eye of the storm that Tweek blows everywhere else. The only boy who can hold him and Tweek will stop fidgeting for a moment, listening to Craig's nasally voice which acts as a tool for him to calm himself down. The fingers moving up and down his own sweaty palms were also a telling detail to get him to stand down.
In fact, it was as addicting as the coffee he'd been drinking. His physical touch sensationalized him into a thousand feelings he never thought possible exploding in his chest. All his scattered thoughts were now in organized folders. Green eyes look at him with concern or affection. That voice calling him by nicknames Tweek had never thought possible to describe him. He didn't think he was a cupcake, a babe, or plausibly a 'honey,' by all accounts. He'd always thought he was as bitter as the coffee he drinks. As hostile as a lion protecting its pride. As annoying as Cartman and his fucking schemes.
But now, as the entire town feeds into this Buddha Box bandwagon, he has not heard Craig tell him that he's inviting him to dinner; the touch that always snaps him out of his anxious tirade; the eyes that hold so much intensity in his own words cannot bear him. Actions speak louder than words, and for Craig, it is a mantra for both of them.
In fact, Craig is also stuck in the same wonderland as the others.
Which is their current dilemma as of now. He could not remember how it started, but they had been in an argument. It was the usual argument, as always; Tweek is being too paranoid and anxious over things he could not control, and Craig's ways to help him appear a lot more patronizing than usual. Tweek knows it is not his fault; his tone and expression weren't matching with his intent and, he supposes, that is where everything begins to go wrong.
As Tweek continues to shake and tremble whilst ranting about the Buddha Box endemic (stating that is not what earning nirvana is like) as Craig attempts to argue against his beliefs. This is not a usual sight, since for all their differences in terms of personality and character, they both have almost similar opinions about everything. While Craig sees the world from a nihilist point of view, and Tweek with a paranoid illusion, they come to the conclusion that life is filled with suffering and that they are each other's heaven. It must be funny, to think two ten-year-old boys would believe that the two of them are the key to finding their own happiness.
They were both boys who were misunderstood and even mocked for having different ideas of what the world had once been. No one wants to be friends with people who challenge or contradict their worldview. No wonder Stan and Kenny were hated as well— unlike them, however, they still forced their way into a friend group no matter how shitty all of them are to each other.
Apparently, Craig is in something called the autism spectrum. It means that he thinks and behaves differently from other people. More different than Tweek? He doubts it.
Anyways, the argument. Right, Tweek and Craig had been arguing about the morality of this Buddha Box, and to his astonishment Craig is supporting Cartman's exploitation of anxiety and mental illnesses (again).
"Tweek, I just feel like this can help you relax," Craig tells him, attempting to sound calm but there is a tremor in his voice. He is going to snap for a few more minutes. Tweek has the skill to make people tolerate him until they reach the end of his outbursts.
The blonde glares at him, pulling at the strands of his hair, both as a reflex and as a way to check if he's still in real life. "Relax? Relax?! What the hell are you talking about, Craig?! I'm not putting a fucking box over my head! What if I get run over?! What if someone kidnaps me and I don't even know because I have that stupid box over my head?! I wanna see and hear things, Craig, not be stuck in whatever fever dream Cartman dredged up!"
"It'll help you."
"It'll help nothing about me!" Tweek twitches, craving a cup of coffee. "Why do you want me to put it in, anyways? So I can't be a goddamn bother to you?"
Craig's passive expression morphs into an offended one. Meaning Tweek fucked up. "That's not what I—"
"You want me outta the way, and this is how you'll get rid of me!" He assumes the worst already because it is in Tweek's nature to assume blasphemy already. Just on a hunch, on a spark of horror. "You don’t want to date me anymore!" He could not help the glossy eyes.
The dark-haired boy's expression is stormy. "You're always doing this to me, Tweek. Manipulating my own words to suit whatever damn narrative is in your head. I just want to help you." Those are his last words before he slips the Buddha Box over his head and begins to ignore him.
The psychiatrist is no help; he told Tweek he always had a fear of communication and fears his words being taken for something else. Which is, for Tweek's part, a ridiculous assumption. Craig is one of the most straightforward, blunt individuals he has ever encountered, never wavering over an insult if it is ever on the tip of his tongue. It is strange to think of a concept where Craig is afraid of his messages being misinterpreted. After all, Tweek understands what he's saying.
… Right?
He decides to wait it out. Give Craig some time to himself; something they begin to implement when they are overwhelmed with being together all the time. They needed alone time and time with their own respective friends. They deserve to have a life outside a relationship, according to the relationship blogs they encounter once they realize their feelings for each other are real.
But minutes turn into hours. Tweek could no longer just cross his arms, turn away and glare at the floor. But he could not bear ignoring his boyfriend any longer— not when he was still tapping on his goddamn phone like it was a Tuesday. He tries everything he can to get attention, but it proves to be futile. In fact, the best response he'd gotten from Craig was him swatting his hand away. At first, it made him annoyed; how dare he not pay attention to him. However, that soon gives away to his classic paranoia, leaving him with thoughts he didn’t want to think about.
It is time to bring his and Craig’s friends into this. He learns that he could not do this shit alone, especially when the brains of the operation are making his brains rot.
He bursts into Token's room while holding Craig’s hand, still in Margaritaville. "Help!" He screeches, bringing the entire room to a halt.
Token, Clyde, Jason, and Jimmy turn to look at them with confused expressions.
"Aw man," Token sees Craig's predicament and, ever perceptive, figures out what Tweek needs help with. "He bought into the trend too?"
"S–seems like e-every– everyone did," Jimmy affirms, nodding his head. "H-hey Tw–Tweek, what do you– you call someone who has a– a box on the head?"
"Not now Jimmy," Token glares at him to stop the other boy from making a joke out of all this. He turns to Tweek, still shaking as he holds Craig's hand with a serious expression. "So why'd he start wearing that?"
"We were in an argument and—" Tweek is interrupted by four collective voices groaning. He glares at them, twitching slightly. "What?!"
"You guys always argue," Jason, the traitor that he is, explains with a handwave. "It's getting tiring especially when we know you'll kiss and make up after that."
The others mutter their own agreements, making Tweek frantically flustered over their unanimous agreement about his love life.
"Ugh, it's not like we argue all the time…" He rolls his eyes, but he diverts the discussion back to the Buddha Box craze. He's seen all of them use it— Token with his parents at the boys' bus stop, Jason when his own parents are harping about being the superior family in the neighborhood. He twitches once more, "I think I screwed up big time, guys. Ngh, Craig is mad at me."
"He'd never be mad at you for long," Clyde tells him, attempting to help. Instead, Tweek just gives him a sign that he doesn't want his comfort right now. "But what was your stupid argument about? Like the earth being flat? Cause it is."
"Y-y-you're an idiot, Cly–Clyde," Jimmy tells him, hitting the brown-haired boy with his crutches, eliciting a whine from him.
"It was– it was about the Buddha Box!" Tweek ignores Jimmy and Clyde fighting each other already, looking at Token and Jason. The two were always the center of common sense in their group. Well, Token is in Craig's group. The others simply invited him and Jason to join their group once it became official that he and Craig are dating. Token nods to him to continue, and he lets out a squeak before clarifying. "He wants me to wear it, I thought it was stupid, then we started fighting and I accused him of getting rid of me because he wanted me to put that stupid thing on but IthinkIwentalittleoverboard and nowhedoesn'tevenlistentome and Ithinkhe'sgonnabestucklikethisforever!"
The last few phrases were spoken so fast that Clyde and Jimmy — who were merely half-listening at this point — hadn't gotten a clue over what he had said. Token can somewhat understand him, but judging from his expression he had reached the garbled zone of his speech, but Jason? Right next to Craig, he is used to Tweek speaking and understanding already.
"Oh Christ, why would you say that to Craig?" Jason asks with a look of exasperation, which he shares with Token.
"What?!" Tweek questions defensively. "He was — ngh — I really thought he was going to ignore me when I put the thing on my head."
"Maybe he was trying to help you."
"That's what he said to me, Token," Tweek pulls at his hair, "But I don’t want him to stop dating me!" The others groan once again at this admission. "What now?!"
"You misinterpreted what he meant, didn't you?"
Tweek twitches, but shrugs at the implications nonetheless. "I was– I was being paranoid! I guess…" He glances quickly at Craig again, playing on his phone, oblivious to the conversation around him. "But I know Craig will never hurt me. He's always made sure that he wouldn’t." He groans, twitching once more. "I think I fucked up! I think I'm the reason he put that shitty box on!"
"Ya think?" Clyde states bluntly, and Jimmy knocks him upside the head.
"Craig loves you," Token tells him in a comforting tone, a tone he uses when he wants to ground Tweek. It isn't as successful as when Craig does it, but it is enough for the boy to offer him his ears. "There's no doubt about that."
"I still think making you put on the box is a low blow," Jason says, ever Tweek's defender. "I get he was trying to help, but that shit doesn’t help with your anxiety. It just makes your world smaller."
"I get that, but Tweek assumes the worst while Craig means the best." Clyde shrugs, bracing himself for another one of Jimmy's assaults. "If Craig can understand Tweek can't control his paranoid outbursts, Tweek can also learn…" He trails off, with everyone else looking at the blonde.
"What?! What am I supposed to learn?!" He inquires as the eyes look his way. It's a gesture that makes him nervous; it means he's at the center of the stage, of all the people who know him. While he is accustomed to stares due to being a part of the second most influential group in South Park Elementary, these gazes are, to him, a whole lot heavier.
"Craig is afraid of people taking his words incorrectly," Clyde explains, "you said something that is probably the opposite of what he wanted to tell you."
"O-o-oppositessss att–attract," Jimmy adds his own little comment.
"Tweek, you gotta learn to stop your paranoia from destroying your relationship," says Token with a look of sympathy. He is reminded of his failed relationship with Nicole, of how their own love is put to the test because of an internet troll interested in sowing chaos and discord throughout the town and world. Tweek feels himself suddenly growing empathy for Token, believing he knows what he means.
Craig's weaknesses were commonly known in Tweek and his friends; he has the inability to initiate conversations or get his point across. Thus, his answers come in short, blunt words, enough to get the point across. It is sufficient for Tweek… if he was not freaking out about things that can easily be solved. He glances at Craig with a sad frown on his face, hoping he'd been listening in, hearing about how worried Tweek is for him. Yet, he continues to tap, tap tap. He wonders if he was too stressful for Craig to handle. Why does he even insist on this relationship when the blonde shows multiple times he will never let go of his extreme vulnerability to emotions? He cannot set it free, the same way Craig bottles his own up.
His boyfriend had been, in fairness, attempting to help him curb his anxiety in a stupid manner, but he'd still been helping. Tweek doesn't help Craig when he is overstimulated and wants to be left alone. He does as he wishes while worrying about the status of their relationship, and if he had screwed up.
Craig had been making an effort to understand his emotional outbursts, but Tweek doesn't. He always looks ahead, and not around him.
"Ah shit," he swears, looking back at his friends. "I'm a shitty boyfriend, am I?"
"B-b-b-been there," Jimmy tallies.
"You won't be a shitty boyfriend if you help Craig out," Token tells him encouragingly, always the one with experience in relationships. He's the best boyfriend out of them all, aside from Craig (though he's losing points for this entire Buddha Box thing).
"I will!" Tweek exclaims in an excited manner, touching Craig's hand once more. He is disappointed to receive no reaction, but this just makes him a lot more determined to help him.
Starting by getting that box off his head.
He is all alone. In the dark, cold, empty surroundings of a cramped box. It takes him a minute to recover his uniform breathing, not quite fond of cramped spaces. Yet, he finds himself in paradise simply because he hears nothing but the buzzing of the outside world and the noises in front of him, his cellphone screen. The brightness of the screen did not hinder his concentration on staying in the box. Craig is an individual fond of being kept in stasis— he doesn’t want to move. He wants his feet to be firmly on the ground. It is where he wants to be with.
He feels the world continue to breathe and live around him, but they all sound like he is underwater, listening to these noises with a helmet on his head. He emptily compares it to the hypothetical scene of being in space. No one would hear him if he was in space; he also cannot hear anybody else, everything is null and void.
He feels himself move, a brief annoyance culled by someone's warm hand making contact with his skin. It is a jolt of warmth and a bright place being offered to him, but he can't remember why. He was hopeless when it came to moving, he can tell. He is sluggish and he lets whoever is tugging at his hand lead him to whatever place he wants to go. Craig wishes that he was left alone. He needed it after…
After someone whom he loves said awful things to him.
He remembers him, in a dramatically fuzzy way. Everything has just become simply hazy once he has put the box on his head as if it works like drugs. He cannot find it in himself to find a recollection of events just prior to this.
It started with his distinctive apathy toward everything. Then it spirals from there, his emotional constipation a liability when he wants to be with people he loves. Specifically, Tweek.
He fucked up. Maybe he shouldn’t have suggested such a stupid idea in the first place. Tweek already has reservations seeing his religion used precariously by Cartman, but he wanted Tweek to earn some safe haven after being practically shown fear and rejection all his life. He only wishes for a world in which he would be safe, even if it means his space will be constricted.
But he fucked that up. He's so bad at regulating his intentions and feelings in one person. Additionally, he is also angry at the anxiety-filled assumptions Tweek threw at him when he means the best and…
It's what got him here in the first place.
He refuses to see that it was a mistake asking Tweek to wear something he did not want, and he was tempted by Cartman’s sweet talk. He knows how to make him tick, taking a jab at his insecurities and projecting them into his heart as they settle into him like cold ice.
That is what his world currently is. Dark and frigid, as if he is standing in a blizzard with no way home.
He can hear his boyfriend’s voice outside of the box, but it was so muffled Craig couldn’t understand what he was saying. So he continues to look at his phone because while it numbs his brain to the point he can feel it melt, he trudged on. He is ashamed to look people in the eye after this. How could they see him as a good friend and boyfriend when he took a coward’s way out?
The dark-haired boy finds himself running again, those warm hands tight on his own fingers, palms sweaty. He still focuses on what his phone is showing him, no matter how much he wants to look. It's his time away from the real world, in the frozen wasteland of whatever media his phone is showing him. It is a dark abyss, and his phone's light is so dim.
He misses the sunlight. It was one of his favorite stars, simply because it was the only star he could see in the sky. It was bright, enough to combat the loneliness he was feeling. The loneliness he built upon himself.
"Craig?" And the voice, once again, attempts to talk to him. Have a conversation with someone who wouldn't bother. Craig has learned to tune out so many things in his life, and the box is helping him with it as well, but he could never ignore that voice. Even if he was mad at him.
He feels those warm hands on his arm, and he feels himself pause. He knows they are both alone, knows they are both hurting. Yet his mind is still and quiet, as he waits with bated breath to see what these hands will do.
He feels them twitch and tremble, but whoever is touching him does not speak. He misses his words, but he also loves the embrace of silence all around him.
Then, those hands drift lower towards his palms holding the phone. For some reason, he lets him take it away, and the box is covered in darkness once more. He misses his phone already, blaring lights and raucous noises filling the hurt that is currently plaguing him.
But those hands… they were better. His fingers, cramping from holding his phone too long, are stretched by these fingers. They are spindly, long, and abnormally cold, but it does wonders for his brain. The familiar scent of coffee and anxiety begins to waft in his confined box, but he doesn’t let go of these hands. They are too beautiful, and he can feel his cold world thawing, as he slowly holds onto these fingers.
"Craig… I'm so sorry for taking you for granted." He wants to deny this claim, tell him that he never took him or anything else in their life for granted, but he is stuck in stasis. He doubts he could get his wits back in time.
But the exhaustion is fading. It is being replaced by the rampant, determined warmth, coating his veins with care and love.
He feels his heart skip a beat and relax, but not in that almost flat line state it once had been in earlier.
He feels fuller. Not energetic — when is he ever energetic? — but he feels the urge, the need to go outside. However, his cowardice holds him back, uncharacteristic paranoia gripping in his heart.
"You're the best boyfriend ever." The voice speaks again, voice gentle and kind, while still being shrill and having that nervous trek in his voice. It endears him; fills him with love and makes him whole once more. He yearns for this touch more, his mouth parting to let out a noise of acknowledgment. The touch spreads to the back of his palms, and while it shakes, it did not matter to Craig. What matters is getting to see whoever is touching him, making him feel as if he isn’t carrying so much pressure in his mind, jumbled but clear. “I love you. I need you to be with me here. I can help you the way you’ve always helped me.”
That gets Craig’s attention.
Like a bandaid being pulled off, he puts his hands on the top of the box and brings it over his head, his flaccid green eyes meeting shiny blue eyes. Before Craig could even take the box completely over his head, he feels Tweek’s arms around him as the boy’s body shakes in happiness. He should know, for he lets out a noise similar to joy.
“Craig!” He exclaims, voice full of relief. “You’re back!”
“Yeah,” he replies, voice tired and mind still hazy from being in that stupid box all day. He sobers up once he gains eye contact with Tweek again. “I’m sorry for being a douche, Tweek. I just wanna help you with your emotions.”
“I know, I should’ve been better — AH! — better at wording my sentences too. I shouldn’t be having doubts about us, Craig. You’ve shown me that we can’t possibly have doubts about one another. I love you!”
Craig’s eyes shine bright, as he hugs Tweek again. The blonde is unprepared for another hug, and he breaks it off immediately for comfort. “You’re… cool, Tweek. But sometimes you can be a baby.”
“I know,” Tweek says with an embarrassed cringe. “I’ll be a better boyfriend to you! I won’t find malicious bullshit hiding around your good intentions!”
“And I’ll stop running away from my emotions,” he tells his boyfriend, heart happy. “In fact, I know a way for us to make up for this shitty incident.”
“How?”
The dark-haired boy holds the box with a look of distaste. He will blame himself for giving into Cartman’s manipulations easily another time. Today, he’s going to spend the day he lost with Tweek. “Let’s burn this stupid box.”
Tweek beams at him, as he takes the box from his hands; without preamble he runs outside of his room, calling for his mother and asking if she had matches to burn a box with. Craig smiles at him, as he follows his boyfriend in a languid prayer.