Chapter Text
Moonlight filtered between the blinds, casting horizontal slivers of pale light onto Tweeks bed as he huddled beneath the covers. Trembling hands plucked at the lint on his blanket, occasionally ripping stray threads from the stitching.
The sound of his parents' muffled voices phased seamlessly through the paper thin walls of the Tweak household, reaching his ears all the way upstairs. Their normally calm and collected tone had been discarded for hushed whispers, spoken with an intensity he was not accustomed to hearing from his mother or father.
Curiosity piqued, Tweek carefully and quietly climbed out of bed, creeping out of his room towards the top of the stairs, where he could make out their words if he strained his ears.
“Why did you even start this, Richard?” His mothers voice urged, frustration bubbling over in her tone.
“Shh… not so loud. He might hear us,” His father warned. “Besides, he’s been fine all these years, Helen, why change things now?”
“It’s not right, and you know it! Think about what will happen a few years from now when he moves out, he’s not a child anymore, we… we can’t keep giving it to him. What if doctors found out? It could jeopardize our entire family.”
“But, the business… You know we’ll lose all of our regulars, don’t you?” Tweeks’ father reasoned.
His mother huffed a sharp sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Don't be silly, nothing about the business has to change. We, just… I can’t keep doing this to my son anymore. Tweek doesn’t know anything now, and he can’t. Ever.”
Tweeks heart leapt at his direct mention, and he scrambled back to his room as quickly and quietly as he could. He tucked back into his bed, mind ablaze as he pulled the covers back over himself.
He’d spent his entire life in this household, accustomed to its quirks, and the silence that often stretched between the family. A comfortable silence, one that held a reassurance that even if the family had nothing to talk about, it would simply mean that there was nothing to talk about.
Yet, looking back at those long bouts of silence, Tweek couldn’t help but feel that there was something more to it.
What could his parents possibly be hiding? Something to do with him? Something they didn’t want him to hear? His mind reeled with the possibilities.
He’d always known he was different from others, with his uncontrollable tremors and the constant anxiety that made his head spin even at the smallest of problems. His parents had never needed him to spell it out for them; they understood firsthand that their son was a chronic worrier, more so than what was normal for a child his age.
However, as he’d grown older, and began to deal with the challenges of early adolescence, his parents had become frustratingly complacent.
He’d never officially been diagnosed with ADHD, anxiety, or any other condition for that matter. Instead, his parents would hastily throw the labels at him in order to quell his concern. They refused to actually take him to a psychiatrist, instead opting to try various dosages of multivitamins, coffee, et. cetera on him every morning. One day, a certain combination clicked, and his parents never looked back. He never thought to question what it was, simply grateful there was something that finally worked. But what was it, really, that he was taking? That thought alone sent a nervous shiver through Tweeks body, causing an involuntary twitch of the head.
What were they giving to him? And why were they so anxious about keeping him in the dark about it? The confusion turned to mild frustration. Was he not mature enough to be informed about his own health by now? As his anxious thoughts became less cohesive, and sleep began to pull at his consciousness, he drifted off into a restless slumber, desperate for any kind of peace of mind.
-
As the sun peeked over the horizon, Tweek was awoken by a shrill, panicked voice. An eye cracked open to reveal his mother standing in the doorway, arms crossed.
He groaned, flipping over and pulling the covers to his face. His mother persisted.
“Tweek! Tweek!! It’s almost time to go to school! Why is your alarm off?” His mother interrogated, disapproval evident on her face.
This made Tweek force his eyes fully open, blinking the sleep away and propping himself up with an elbow.
“I… I must’ve turned it off in my sleep, or something,” He mumbled groggily, shaking off the unsettling feeling that lingered from last night’s eavesdropping.
His mother sighed, shaking her head exasperatedly.
“Honestly, Tweek, you’re 14 years old. You should know better by now, I won’t be here to remind you in 4 years when you’re 18 and in college.”
“Right… sorry, mom,” Tweek now sat up fully, rubbing his eyes intensely. It was like he hadn't slept at all last night, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember having a single dream. He stumbled to his feet, walking to his dresser. He opens the drawer, rummaging around blindly, noticing for the first time how difficult the disorganized chaos made it to find anything actually appealing to him. He takes a moment to search before finally fishing out both his usual button up shirt and a pair of jeans. After getting into school clothes, Tweek could still feel the piercing cold of the morning air, and decided that on second thought, today was a sweater day. As he pulled the woolen material over his head, he pondered over the words he had overheard last night. His mind raced, simultaneously begging for answers and buzzing from exhaustion. If there was anything that could possibly stabilize Tweeks frantic thoughts and get him through the day; a morning coffee would be much needed.
He stumbled downstairs and towards the dining room, taking notice of a peculiar change as he entered. The usual waft of coffee that would hit his nostrils as he walked through the archway was absent, and as he scanned the table, their family’s centerpiece, their coffee pot, was nowhere to be seen. Tweek took a seat, staring at his breakfast with distaste. Perhaps he just didn’t have an appetite for food this morning?
“Uh, coffee?” Tweek asked, twiddling his thumbs absentmindedly.
His father jolted, nearly spilling his cereal.
“I- Uhh, sure. Let me just get a pot started for you, Tweek.”
As his father stood from his seat, he shot an intense glance towards his wife before disappearing into the kitchen. Tweek had never seen either of them make those expressions before, and he forced himself to gulp down the wave of nausea that began to bubble up in his stomach. He tried not to think about it too much, downing a few cups of coffee, grabbing his backpack and stepping outside without bidding either of his parents farewell. He knew they would find it strange, but he just wasn’t comfortable around them right now. Something was wrong with him, and them, and he didn’t understand what.
The cold morning breeze hit his face as he walked upwind, making him a sniffling mess by the time he made it to the bus stop. Clyde, Jimmy, and Tolkien had already arrived, their usual banter filling the quaint snowy town with exuberant chatter.
Tweeks’ mind was miles away from the lively trio, still hung up on the tension with his parents, but he managed a curt “Hello,” regardless.
“Hey, Tweek,” Tolkien waved.
“Dude, Tweek, settle this for me, please,” Clyde cut in with his usual nonchalance. “Mr. Garrison, right? He's been our teacher for, what, 5 years now? Why the hell is that? Did he even have the proper certification to keep teaching us back when middle school first started, much less now that we’re high school freshmen? Seriously, that just doesn’t sound normal…”
“W-well… I don’t know, I guess it’s kind of strange now that you mention it,” Tweek pondered.
“I-I honestly don't think it's that s-s-serious. It’s not like the South Park school district has that many t-teachers at their d-disposal anyway,” Jimmy remarked.
Clyde raised a brow, directing his attention towards Tolkien, “Tolkien, come on, you’re probably the smartest out of all of us, back me up on this. Is Mr. Garrison qualified to teach us in high school?”
Tolkien held his chin, considering the matter.
“I can see where you’re coming from on this, Clyde, but Jimmy has a point. And even if he didn't have any certification-which he probably doesn't, let's be real, I don't think the faculty here really cares."
“I guess I just don't understand how they've fired him for being gay before, but not for being completely incompetent...” Clyde pondered.
"And so, it remains a m-m-m-mystery," Jimmy concludes. Everyone pauses for a moment. Cars zoom by on the icy road, and cold air hits Tweeks face.
Out of nowhere, Clyde interjects into the silence. “Speaking of gay, how are the lovebirds?" He smirks as he eyes Tweak teasingly.
"I-are you comparing me to Garrison?" Tweek grimaces, wrinkling his nose.
"...Y-yeah, um, Clyde...? That was kind of an awful way to s-s-segway into asking," Jimmy snickers.
Tweek raises an eyebrow.
"Um...asking what?"
"Well, there's this party at Starks Pond this Friday. Heidi t-t-Turner is putting it together-" Jimmy starts, before Clyde cuts him off,
"And there's gonna be a lot of girls there! You know how much girls love yaoi! If you guys show up, there's no telling-"
"Clyde!!" Tolkien scolds, before turning to Tweek with an earnestly apologetic expression. "Listen, I genuinely wanted to invite you guys. It's these idiots that have the weird ideas. Most of the class is going to be there, and I think everyone would be happy to see you both."
Tweek's concern softens at Tolkien's clarification. "I-um, I'll ask Craig about it..."
The others accept that as final, and turn back to chatter on about something else, While Tweek's gaze drifted towards the sidewalk in the direction of Craig’s house, who was notably absent. Would he have handled this better? Tweek may have become a better actor through their relationship, but it still wasn't exactly second nature to him, especially when his mind was already clouded with worry. Craig’s missing presence ate at a particular anxiety; one his mind would usually be able ignore.
Their relationship had always been an unconventional one, founded on rumors and South Park's general insanity. Tweek and Craig had always been classmates and would interact on an occasional basis, however, they were never particularly close. When the “ship” art started circulating around the school, it caught them both wildly off guard, confused by the fictionalization of a relationship between the two.
The pressure to conform to the towns’ bizarre whims was intense, especially after their attempt to stage a break-up and end the craze. Instead, that backfired as the whole town went into mourning, the worst of it being Clyde’s mom fainting and getting a concussion. The incident had shaken the boys up a fair amount, and thus, they decided to adhere to South Park’s odd fantasy, at least for the time being, to prevent any further incidents. At first, falling into these roles united the town, but after 4 years the positive outcome had long waned away. All that was left was the pressure on them to remain together.
Having to deal with the tumultuous, ever evolving pressures over the last 4 years led the two to genuinely rely on each other. Despite being equally uncomfortable with the entire affair at first, it led them to realize that they get along much better than either of them had expected, differences and all
It was really the North Korea fiasco that brought them together. Tweek was at ends with his anxiety, overwhelmed with worry and helplessness, and feeling ridiculously singled out. Though there was difficulty at first with understanding on both boy’s ends, Craig eventually stepped up and was able to provide stability by letting Tweek vent his frustration with the situation, withholding the immediate rationalization his mind would usually lean towards.
The smile the two shared afterwards drew them even closer, and in the later months they would shift from being merely two classmates drawn together by circumstances to being genuine friends.
At the time, they were only ten or eleven, give or take, and so neither was willing to confront the implications of being stuck with this label, but in more recent years, as Tweek matured, he found himself pondering his and Craig’s relationship far more than he used to. What are they, really? What would the implications of continuing to fake this in adulthood be? Are they just going to lie the rest of their lives? ...What if it isn't a lie...?
Tweeks’ jitters grew more pronounced as he continued spiraling, and not in the way that they usually did. He twitched sporadically, compared to the contained tremor that usually buzzed through his whole body, and it was almost painful. He felt light-headed, his normal feelings of anxiety rocketing way beyond their usual intensity.
“Anyways, back to my point, guys, wouldn’t it be nice to have a teacher who, you know… didn’t have any history acting as the president of the United States?” Clyde finished, before his mind wandered back to Tweek and Clyde examined him before shooting him a concerned look. “Hey, dude, did you have your coffee this morning? You seem a lot more jittery than usual, and that's saying something for you.”
Tweek blinked, as if he’d forgotten his presence at the bus stop, surrounded by his friends. He paused and took a breath before responding in an effort to bring himself back to reality.
“Y-yeah, uhm, I did have my coffee this morning,” Tweek frowned, “It usually… you know, calms my tremors a bit. I mean, it’s kind of weird, because coffee should technically make you more jittery, but… for me it helps me stay focused? It’s just, today it feels like it’s doing nothing at all.”
Tolkien raised a brow, “It’s interesting that coffee works that way for you.”
“I suppose… uh, by the way, do you guys know where Craig is today? Sick?” Tweek diverted, reluctant to talk about last night’s ordeal. Before anyone could respond, a familiar voice echoed from behind.
“Not sick, just late.”
Craig’s monotone voice instantly drew Tweeks attention, and he whipped his head around to meet Craig’s eyes. His familiar blue hat was missing, revealing his dark, partially unbrushed hair.
“Dude, Craig! Where the hell were you?” Clyde demanded to know, tone tinged with a mix of relief and annoyance. Craig adjusted the strap of his bag and sighed exasperatedly.
“Stripe went missing, so I spent most of my morning turning the house upside down looking for him.”
Clyde raised an eyebrow, stifling a giggle.
“Your guinea pig made you late? Man, only you.”
Craig side eyed Clyde,
“Hey, Stripe is important, okay? Besides, I still made it on time either way.”
Well, at least you’re here now, Tweek looked ready to have a panic attack without you,” Clyde digressed.
“Dude!” Tweek exclaimed, elbowing Clyde. He mumbled the rest of his words defensively, “I was not going to have a panic attack.”
Craig’s concerned gaze weighed heavily upon him, but Tweek averted his eyes, choosing instead to focus on scuffing the snow by his shoes.
When the bus finally came into view, Tweek sighed with relief, the tension in the air momentarily being broken as he began to board. But as soon as he stepped onto the bus, the usually tolerable chatter from his classmates completely overloaded his senses, and he clenched his jaw, digging his nails into his palms.
Regardless of whatever was going on, all Tweek wanted was some peace of mind. He didn't want to think about what was wrong with him. Or what was wrong with his parents. Or what was wrong with him and Craig. Worry ate away at him, and no matter how he tried to suppress it, the tension would just bubble back up bigger. It was as if his mind had suddenly lost the means to defend him on its own.