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I’ve never liked baking.
I always found it messy, and I like to keep things organized. Organized means predictable and predictable means boring.
Just how I like it.
But Tweek loves baking.
That’s a little conflicting because Tweek is my boyfriend; so, I have to love everything he does. I try to love it but baking is hard to love and Tweek always does it when he’s stressed and he’s… always stressed.
He always comes back looking like a mess and his cupcakes don’t even look that good either. They’re sloppy and there’s either too much frosting or too little, same with the sprinkles.
I’d never tell him that, though.
Besides, just because his cupcakes don’t look good doesn’t mean they don’t taste good. They actually taste amazing; I wonder where he learned to bake because they taste as if they’re fresh from a bakery.
I tell him he could be a professional baker, but he doesn’t believe me.
“Seriously, babe. These are sooo good. A lot of people would buy them from you if they could, I bet.”
Tweek always blushes when I compliment him, he tells me I flatter him. I don’t know what that means.
“With how they look? No way! Gah!” He pulled on his hair as he said that. I always get worried he’ll go bald if he keeps pulling on it.
“C’mon they don’t look that bad… I think they’re nice.” I’m lying.
“You’re a liar!” Did he read my mind?
“No, I’m not, dude.” I lie again, this time frowning to hide my lie further.
“Yes, you are! You’re a horrible liar!” How does he do that?
“Whatever...” I give up, if I continue insisting that I’m not, he’ll probably get mad at me.
I thought for a while, if Tweek managed to make his cupcakes actually look as appealing as they taste, I’m positive tons of people would want a taste of it.
“Have you ever thought of selling your cupcakes at the shop?”
“Ngghh… I have… but my dad says the shop is strictly for coffee!” That doesn’t sound right.
“I thought you guys sold croissants and pies?”
“We do.” Oh. This is awkward… and headed into a deeper conversation than I wanna go.
The rest of the time Tweek was at my house, we just stayed silent. It was obvious that I got him thinking about his skills and doubting them. He’s probably thinking that I throw up his cupcakes as soon as I eat them, which isn’t true at all. I always want to ask for more, but I don’t want to tell him that, that’d make me lame.
And Craig Tucker is not lame.
Still, I don’t want him to waste the time we’re spending together worrying about things that aren’t true.
“Do you want to feed Stripe?”
I always offer this when we need an ice breaker. I was already feeding Stripe on my lap while me and Tweek sat on the floor next to my bed.
Tweek always lights up when I suggest this, even though he feeds him practically everyday.
“Agh—Yeah.”
He was quiet which wasn’t good, but he looked calmer when he fed Stripe. I scooted closer to him and carried Stripe over to his lap so he could feed him at a more comfortable position and even pet him if he wanted to.
And that’s exactly what he did, which made me feel relieved.
I watched for a while, watching Tweeks fingers draw a line down the top of his head to his nose and then rub behind his ear, where he liked being pet the most.
I smiled.
I hope he didn’t see that. I couldn’t stop myself.
I like Tweek a lot, I haven’t told him that yet because we’re not really boyfriends. At least, I don’t think we are?
He doesn’t know I’m gay for him for real. Or maybe he does and he’s just sparing my feelings? Or maybe he likes me, too?
Whatever it may be, I don’t really care because I get to see the calmest sides of him when he pets Stripe.
This Stripe is actually #3. I wasn’t planning on getting a third guinea pig, Tweek was the one who got him for me. I was sooo happy. Especially when I found out that guinea pigs are really good with emotional support.
“Y’know what Craig? Ngh—I actually… really, really… want to own my own bakery when I grow up.”
I honestly wasn’t surprised at what he said, I was just surprised when he spoke up, I guess I got a little lost in thought.
“Yeah?”
I didn’t say anything more than that. I never do. I usually let Tweek do the talking; he doesn’t seem to mind that though.
“Yeah. I want to own my own bakery… or maybe a café where I can sell coffee there, too…” That made sense, Tweek always loved coffee, maybe a little too much, though.
He acted like he couldn’t function without it. One time he had a panic attack because we had no coffee at my house. I got worried he was getting addicted to the coffee, and I heard that coffee stunts your growth and rots your teeth so I’m helping him cut down on that. It’s a work in progress.
“So, you want to follow in your parents’ footsteps?”
“No.” Okay, now I’m a little confused ‘cause he said that.
“I want to own my own shop, far from South Park, far from my parents.”
Tweek suddenly formed a hatred for his parents about a month ago. I don’t know why, I never bothered to ask, and he never brought it up. I heard that when you’re a teenager you start to hate everything but we’re barely 11 so that doesn’t make sense.
“You want to move from here? On your own?”
Honestly, I didn’t like that idea. I couldn’t imagine waking up one day knowing Tweek was thousands of miles away from me and I couldn’t see him or even talk to him. But maybe that’s just my heart talking… or something.
Tweek looked at me weird when I asked that. He stayed quiet for a while and once I was about to ask what was wrong, he spoke up again.
“I was hoping you’d come with me.”
I was a little stunned, to be honest. But I wasn’t against that idea either, I’m not sure how my parents would deal with that but maybe I could have them move with me or I could just visit regularly, and they could visit me.
Why the hell am I already assuming I’m going to move away with Tweek? I couldn’t answer that question even if I wanted to.
“Oh.”
I don’t know what else to say. What else was I supposed to say?
“Ngh—Sorry! That’s stupid! And gay! And I’m not gay and you’re not gay either and we’re not even actually dating and even if we were, which we’re not, that doesn’t mean you’d want to move away with me—”
He was talking a lot. Like in a bad way.
“Tweek! Chill!”
I didn’t mean to sound as mean as I did but it’s whatever, I guess.
“I mean, I don’t mind. Moving, I mean.”
I tried to sound cool about it but my face felt super hot and I think I started blushing really bad and that was definitely a dead giveaway on how a really felt.
But Tweek smiled at me so, I guess it’s okay.
“Okay.”
Tweek was about to say more but then his phone rang and his mom told him he had to go home. We said bye to each other, and he was gone faster than I could blink. I don’t know how that happened so fast; does time really slow down when you’re with someone you love?
Love is a strong word. Do I love Tweek?
I guess if I love Tweek then I also love baking. That’s how it works, right?
Wow, this is hard.
I went over to my desk and opened my laptop.
I decided to do some research on how to start and manage your own bakery.