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"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
What does he want to be when he grows up?
Tweek has no fucking idea.
Today (or rather yesterday, as its now 1AM) is the last day of school before middle school. They were given a pamphlet from Ms. Garrison that asked them questions on how they're feeling about Grade 6, which was quite obviously invented because of PC Principal.
Tweek Tweak, the school's weirdo, employer at Tweak Bros. since 2016, and a druggie since he was born. He's always had his future set in stone, to become the manager of his father's coffee shop, and spend his time selling overpriced espresso to dehydrated, insufferable teenage girls.
Is it okay to not want to be what you're destined to become? Even if it's unstoppable? Even if it's permanently engraved on your skin, like a knife dragged against your skin?
What would God think, if he chose against his wishes, if he abandoned everything just to do something as silly as find a career in music?
Not well, he imagines.
Rustling in his uncomfortable polyester bedding (which seemed to rub his skin in every wrong way), turning side to side, eventually yanking out his hair, nothing helping him calm down.
He knows that this is stupid. Stressing out other a simple question that was given on their religion homework in Grade 5 shouldn't be such a big deal. But at the same time, he had every reason to be terrified of the future.
Tweek Tweak, a paranoid twitchy pre-teen, the only gay kid in South Park (alongside Craig, his boyfriend), and a freak.
If there was anyone who were scared of the future, it would be him. If there were anyone who was long gone, dead, deceased, petrified, burned alive on a stick and left to be eaten by bugs in the wild, it would be him.
Lost in the woods, had a seizure, hair caught on fire, it would be him, him, him.
Fell down the stairs, went to jail, got sent to the mental hospital, it would be him.
Logically, none of these would happen. Not any time soon. But nonetheless, with Tweek's hyperactive mind, he shrieks in fear of any of them happening. Pulling at the hem of his shirt, he dials Craig's number, even if it's already in his contacts. He taps it in multiple times to assure that he didn't mistype it.
Maybe it's stupid to call your boyfriend to support you during your weekly breakdown. Tweek didn't know, or really care. Craig promised he would be there for him no matter what.
And of course, nearing 1AM on a Tuesday midnight, Craig answers his phone.
"...Hello?"
Craig, with his nonchalant and nasally voice, is always there for him. Although his voice is groggy (more prominent than usual) and he speaks with a slur, Tweek doesn't worry. For other people, he would be afraid and instantaneously end the phone call, but knowing who it is, he doesn't feel as scared.
Tweek's still terrified though. He knows that Craig is going to complain about this tomorrow. Like usual.
"I'm s-sorry ACK! but I just couldn't focus on sleeping and y-you're the onl-"
"You do this every night, Tweek. If I minded, I would have told you by now."
Although Tweek wants to point out that it's been 6 days, nearly a week since he's called him, he doesn't.
Craig is silent from the other side of the line. An expecting pause is held between them, accompanied by Craig's yawn and Tweek's fast, light breath.
Instead, he bursts into tears.
Thinking back on all the times that Tweek has ranted to Craig, there's never been any times that he's cried during them. Just mindless words and scattered thoughts thrown together as he nearly yells at Craig. In the end, his boyfriend just holds Tweek's hand and listens with a smile.
Craig's smile is usually reassuring and comforts Tweek as soon as he spots it. A dorky, full tooth smile, that shows his hidden dimples and reveals the horrors of his mouth.
Crooked teeth and an overbite, yet Tweek still adores it.
Tweek doesn't think that his stupid smile could relieve him tonight.
With his choked sobs echoing through the room, you would've thought that his parents were awakened by it. That they cared, that they'd help him. No, of course not. Hysterically rubbing at his eyes with his damp sleeve, snorting a snot bubble up his nose again.
Craig hasn't ever heard him like this. His fear of the future is now erased (or rather acquainted) by his boyfriend's disapproval. With past experiences, like with his parents or teachers, they've always brushed off simple meltdowns like this. Stating that he was acting psychotic, and unpleasant. Tweek was worried that Craig would feel the same.
Maybe after a minute or so after Tweek started weeping, the phone call ended, leaving Tweek alone with the sounds of his misery and his heart beating fast. He swore he could hear his own blood rushing, or even his thoughts, but he knew that was illogical. And probably incorrect, too.
I should just get over it. This is stupid. Don't be a crybaby. You're being annoying. Go to sleep, Tweek.
He could hear the faint sound of taps on his window.
Why did you even start crying anyways? Craig was being nice to you. He'll never be nice again. You ruined it all, just like how you ruin everything. This is just like you, a stupid, whiney, unworthy piece of shit.
A loud BANG! outside of his room, he rushes to the window to look at his front yard.
Craig, with his knitted blue hat (with strung-on yellow pom pom's that they made in class together!) and his signature blue jacket, waved with both of his arms at Tweek.
Naturally, Tweek stifled a laugh, attempting to keep quiet. Although it was clear that his parents wouldn't check up on him after his burst of tears that happened previously. Practically hopping down the stairs to open the door to Craig, he skipped to him on his tippy toes.
Surprisingly, he looked much worse than Tweek did. With black hair stuck on his forehead which Tweek oh so badly wanted to push to the side, his hat tilted sideways, and his pants inside out, he was a total mess. It took everything for Tweek to not burst out laughing at him, before connecting the dots.
Was he worried about Tweek?
Craig's eyes watered. Tweek assumed it was from the cold air brushing against his dry face.
"You look like shit."
"Oh s-shut up, s-spaz." Craig instantly defended.
He walked past his boyfriend, kicking off his shoes before rushing upstairs. The blond only now noticed that the other's hair was frozen. It was gonna drip all over his carpet, wasn't it?
Tweek followed behind Craig slowly. He softly smiled at the sight of his boyfriend flopping against the bed, face pushed in to the sheets. In the polyester, uncomfortable sheets that Tweek cried on earlier.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Craig expressionlessly said, but with a loving gaze. Tweek could only hope it was directed to him.
He had a million thoughts on his mind, each of them telling him different things. You should tell him, you shouldn't, don't be a bother, he genuinely wants to know, what if it's an act? Tweek thought. His brain hurt from all the rushing ideas, until he was interrupted by-
"...Do you want me to talk about it?"
Tweek hadn't even stopped to think that Craig was nervous about Grade 6 too. It seemed like such a non-Craig like thing to do. Especially because when they were doing the work in class, shoulder to shoulder, he kept talking about how boring it was to do this, and how he wished they had extra gym time instead. Throughout both of their school lives, Craig had barely spoken about his emotions before. The only times he had was when he was:
- Ranting about some idiot in his way.
- Telling Tweek how much he and his friends appreciate him.
- Flipping off his teacher. Or really anyone.
The so-called spaz was interested as soon as the noiret said the words. Was this some odd way on trying to make Tweek better? He'd never done it before. He hesitantly nodded, unsure if he would get a serious answer or not.
Craig sat up from the bed, scooting to the side to allow Tweek in. It felt like instinct to climb in beside him, although they've only done this twice, including this time.
"When I first heard that we were going into Grade 6, I wasn't really afraid. It would be the same as any other year."
"But... next year is middle school, right? And that means that we're growing up."
"At first, it was me worried that I would get bad grades, that I would lose my straight A's, that everything would be more difficult and I'd have to start actually giving a fuck."
"...Then I got worried that we would change."
3 words that Tweek had never thought about before, now realising that Craig had been thinking about this just as much as he had.
"Next year, you and I will have our 2nd anniversary. That's longer than any other relationship that our school has had before, let alone us. Before you came along, I've never liked anyone before -- Especially not a guy --, and I didn't know what to expect. But now that you're here... I don't think I could let go."
"I really do... um... l-love you. Even if I don't say it a lot."
To be honest, Tweek had expected more, and yet less at the same time. He expected an essay long complaint about getting more work, about how the teacher's are gonna be shitty, and how Clyde is going to cry all over them when he sees them at the last day of summer. But... he didn't expect Craig to admit so much. To admit how he really felt about change. About the future. And he realises that the two of them aren't that different. Sure, Tweek is a frantic blonde who get's C's on average, and Craig is a relatively popular boy with dark hair who get's aces all the time, but they both had the same fear.
The future.
Tweek knows that no matter what, they'll get through the future together. One way or another, he'll stick by Craig's side. He won't leave, and Craig won't either.
"I love you too, Craig."
Craig's wet hair dripped on Tweek's comfortable polyester bed that night.