Chapter Text
Every business in town had begun decorating their spaces with back-to-school garb, advertising the looming year’s promises of academic grandeur that would never truly be fulfilled and signaling the encouragement for mere sprigs of students to blossom into professional, ardent flora, only for the biting cold of winter to wither their roots and motivation away into nothing. Tweek rested his head against the cold glass of the car’s window, his breath fogging up the barrier that separated him from the outside. These decorations indicated that his least favorite time of year was rapidly approaching, feelings of which many of his peers shared. Though, his disdain was for a different reason, not because of the abhorrent eight hours of boredom that would soon become a key part of the daily routines of South Park’s youth. Where Tweek’s classmates were protesting at the arms that dragged them inside stores for last-minute school supply shopping, he was reluctantly accepting the byproduct of another successful trip around the sun: his birthday.
He should be happy, he knew. After all, aging was a privilege – his parents had made sure to teach him that, for better or for worse. Tweek knew that for everyone, a birthday was a time for celebration. It was the one day of the year where you were the center of attention, the main character, the favorite.
Tweek was not like everyone, though. He was not necessarily a wanted child, the consequence of two irresponsible young adults that made the mistake of thinking nothing could possibly go wrong, and therefore thinking protection was nonessential. By the time Richard and Helen connected the dots, it was too late, and they were forced to begrudgingly deal with the ramifications of their foolishness in the form of a shiny-eyed, shaking blond. Tweek’s birthday was not a time for celebration. It was a time for scorn and regret from those who were supposed to love unconditionally.
He was turning seventeen in just a few short days, and the anticipation of dismissal and rashness despite the milestone made Tweek’s stomach ache with an icy, melancholic longing. Most of his classmates had already celebrated their special day for the year – he was on the younger end of the age-range – and he couldn’t help but be envious of the excited talk of how delicious the cake in their favorite flavor was, or what long-sought trinkets were finally unwrapped after being hidden behind a layer of colorful paper and glittery ornamentation.
A sharp, sudden tapping awoke Tweek from the trance-like spiral of thought. He opened his eyes as he lifted his head from where it had been resting against the window, the skin on his forehead tinged pink from the pressure. He was met with the sight of his mother on the other side of the door, her face expressionless and fist lifted to rattle against the glass.
“Come on,” Helen’s voice was muffled by the barrier. “Need to get these groceries inside before they spoil. Shop stock is getting low.”
Tweek didn’t reply, opening the car door jerkily as a tic forced his head to tilt and his shoulder to bounce up for a moment. The August air was chilly, hinting the approach of a crisp autumn. Tweek inhaled its earthy scent, basking in the knowledge that even in the face of his inner turmoil, the world around him would soon transform into beautiful swathes of burnt orange and fiery red, and that had to count for something good, right? He stood and shook away his thoughts, obediently taking the plastic bags that his mother held out to him.
The two trudged inside silently. This was a normal routine. Tweek’s parents never spoke to him for longer than they had to. Silence was typical. The front door was shut silently, the bags were set on the counter silently, and Helen began to organize the groceries silently. Tweek fidgeted with the hem of his sweater. He wanted to break the silence, to ask a simple question, but nerves coursed through his veins and made his hair stand on end. If he didn’t ask, he’d never get an answer, he supposed. It was now or never.
“...Mom?” Tweek began hesitantly. “I wanted to ask, could I maybe… maybe have Friday off?”
“Tweek, you know Fridays are your father and I’s date nights. We’ll be away all afternoon and evening. We need someone to take care of the shop,” Helen’s voice was indifferent.
“Y-yeah, I just… It’s just that, Friday is my birthday, and I was hoping–”
“As an adult, you’ll have obligations that come before anything else in your life. Turning sixteen won’t change that.”
Tweek was silent for a moment. “Seventeen, mom,” he murmured. “I’m turning seventeen.”
His mother didn’t reply, her back turned to him as she sorted the groceries into bags that would either stay in the house or be taken to the shop.
“Just this once, maybe, please? Craig wants to do something to celebrate. He said he could do a cake and we could watch a movie or we could go walk around Stark’s Pond or…” Tweek trailed off, hating the way his voice sounded all pitiful and pleading. “Please… I’m only gonna turn seventeen once.”
The silence that settled in the house was deafening. Tweek felt his breath pick up slightly, and his stomach slowly went cold. His thoughts quickened, conjuring images of whatever punishment he might face for instigating what his parents would refer to as a silly, daft argument.
“You only turn any age once, Tweek,” his father’s deep voice from where he sat in the living room, reading the daily paper, broke the stillness that stifled the room like a thick blanket. “Listen to your mother. I want you at the shop until close, no ‘buts,’ ‘ifs,’ or ‘ands.’”
Tweek couldn’t help the sting that pricked the corners of his eyes.
“Okay,” his chest caved in with shame at the sound of his voice cracking. He balled his hands into fists, resisting the urge to cry like a mere child in front of his parents. “Forget I asked. Sorry.”
The wooden stairs creaked with each step Tweek took towards his bedroom. He wasn’t sure why he thought this time would be different – his efforts were always futile. Maybe it was selfish of him, but Tweek really thought that he could have won his parents over with talk of his love – his Craig, and the plans that they had made together for his special day. It was whatever, Tweek supposed. His job was to work at the coffee shop and to encourage a greater intake of funds with the advertisement of his sexuality, and thus how progressive and accepting the business was. His job was not to celebrate himself. His job was not to abide by his own hopes and dreams, but his parents’.
As Tweek laid limply on his bed, pinching the edge of the comforter between his fingers and relishing the feeling of the cool, plush fabric, his phone vibrated against the nightstand that it sat upon. The light from the screen illuminated his dim room, and Tweek’s brows furrowed as he swung an arm over to retrieve the device.
craig <3: hey babe
craig <3: wanna talk bday plans?
Tweek stared at the screen for a moment, sniffing and letting a tear trail down his cheek.
Tweek: Maybe next yr
—
Friday did not get off to a good start. It began with a harsh flinch, a piercing boom startling Tweek from his restless sleep. After calming his quick breathing, a result of the rude awakening, Tweek reached to grab his phone to check the time. Who would be making such a ruckus in the middle of the night? As his eyes scanned the screen, his blood turned to ice.
10:07 AM.
He was late.
Just as Tweek’s brain had finished processing that thought, his door opened, slamming against the dull bedroom wall.
“TWEEK!” His father did not sound particularly pleased. “What has gotten into you!? Get up! Now!”
Tweek scrambled to stand, shoving the comforter away from his body. He still wasn’t fully awake yet and his mind was sluggish, but his heart was pounding as if he had just run a marathon.
“Dad, I-I…! It was an a-accident– I just– my alarms…! I ov-oversl-ept, I’m s-so sorry, Dad! I–...!” Tweek’s shoulders spasmed and his words quivered as series upon series of stress-induced tics washed over him like unforgiving tidal waves.
“W-w-w-w-wuh-what? Did you think you could squeeze past us on this one?” Richard’s tone was scathing as he mocked Tweek’s stuttering. “Or are you seriously just that lazy?”
“No, I s-swear! I didn’t m-mean to, I promise –!” Tweek’s chest heaved, and he felt his panic being replaced with shame as he heard his voice shaking, cracking in all the wrong spots. The room went silent, and Tweek squeezed his eyes closed, not wanting to face the image of his enraged father.
Suddenly, the world went white for a few moments, and all Tweek could see was eerie, colorless nothing. Slowly his vision faded black, and when Tweek opened his eyes again, he was crumpled on the floor against his bed frame. His cheek stung, as if a million tiny pinpricks were digging into his skin all at once. He lifted a hand to cup his face, his features contorted in disbelief as he gazed up at Richard. His hand was raised again, poised and ready. Tweek flinched, cowering and shielding himself as he trembled and panted pitifully.
“Get to work,” Richard’s words were punctuated by the sound of fabric brushing against fabric as he lowered his arm and turned to leave the room. “We’ll talk about this.”
Tweek heard the hinges of his door rattle as his father stomped downstairs. He let his body go limp, a dry sob escaping his throat. A sliver of pride was all he sought from his parents, and every day he took another step farther away from it. Tweek didn’t understand why he couldn’t be like the other kids. He didn’t understand why he was always so petrified by things that made other people excitedly smile with curiosity. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t make his parents happy. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t be normal.
Tweek shook his head and blinked away the tears. He needed to get ready and get to the shop now, or he’d face more than just a mere slap to the face.
—
Without any mode of transport of his own, Tweek had to travel by foot, and practically sprinted to the coffeeshop. He stopped to catch his breath, hunching over and resting his hands on his thighs. His chest heaved and his body trembled with the effort and exertion. He had run nonstop and was exhausted, but at least he had made it to his destination in record time.
Tweek returned to full posture and turned to unlock the shop’s front door when–
“Hey!”
He flinched, and the key fell to the ground. Footsteps approached, and an older, middle-aged man appeared next to Tweek.
“What’s going on? Weren’t you guys supposed to be open two hours ago? I need my morning Americano! I have an important meeting in twenty minutes, you know, and you’re holding me back!”
You could’ve just gone to fucking Harbucks or something if it’s that important, Tweek didn’t say, instead putting on a strained, apologetic smile. “I’m so s-sorry, sir. We couldn’t open on time because we… we had a, um, a complication with our scheduling today. I’m op-opening right now, so I can get that coffee started for you in a minute.”
Tweek bent down to retrieve the key, which he fumbled with his shaky hands, as the man replied with a huff and rolled his eyes.
“Whatever, just hurry it up. I need to get going.”
It took a few painfully long moments to unlock the door, but once inside, Tweek scrambled to get the machines going and to start the Americano all the while the man tapped his foot impatiently. The smell of coffee beans was suffocating, and Tweek wrinkled his nose in disgust as he combined the drink’s ingredients. Sure, he drank coffee constantly, it was a part of his everyday routine. But, the smell and taste only sought to remind Tweek of his purpose as his parents’ employee, and their lack of affection for him. In fact, he didn’t even like the taste of coffee all that much, but something…something about the blend his parents used created a desperate yearn within his entire being. If Tweek didn’t have it for even just a day or two, he felt like a demon was trying to claw its way out of his body, or like a giant chasm had opened within him and his insides were crumbling away with agonizing pangs.
“Here you go,” Tweek dug his nails into his leg to urge the thoughts away as he handed the coffee to the man with his other arm. “Sorry again.”
“Yeah,” the man grunted, tossing a few bills on the counter. “Keep the change.”
As he exited, Tweek gazed down at the money. The man was a dollar sixty short, but he didn’t have the energy to chase him down. He rested his head against the table and sighed.
Some birthday this is, Tweek thought as he gazed at the clock above him, as if his stare would cause the hands to stutter to life and speed up. I guess this is just preparing me for the real world, he thought . In previous years, his father always told him that this is what adult life would be like. Your birthday, always hailed as your one special day during your childhood (at least, for other kids…), didn’t matter anymore. Nine-to-five job? Too bad, your coworkers might bring you a cupcake if you’re lucky. Academic obligations? Even if you have time to celebrate, you don’t have the money to buy supplies. God willing, one day free to yourself? Oh, sorry, the government just called – you’ve got Jury Duty. It didn’t matter. It was selfish to think that it mattered, Richard said. After all, the world didn’t revolve around Tweek. He was not the sun.
“But I’m still your son,” Tweek muttered to himself. Whatever. It’s whatever. He inhaled sharply and ran his hands through his hair, before pulling himself upright and donning a fake, overly-cheery customer service smile. Better to practice before the lunch rush hits.
—
At this point, it was 9:49 PM and Tweek was utterly exhausted. His parents had demanded he keep the shop open for an extra two hours, to make up for his “slip up” that morning. The last of the overzealous customers had finally filtered out the door, and Tweek could at last shoddily wipe the machines down before leaving himself. It had been a thrilling Friday, and subsequently, a thrilling birthday, spent clacking away at the keys of the cash register, burning blisters into his skin as his unsteady hands spilled scorching coffee from their cups, and profusely apologizing to customers for the long wait time because he was the only employee in today and could only do so much at one time.
His phone screen had lit up more than a few times today, messages from his friends gracing his digital inbox with their presence, but Tweek hadn’t had time to respond to them, much less read them. He supposed that that matched the day’s vibes, if you would; even though his parents didn’t give a rat’s ass about his birthday, his friends did, but he couldn’t even hear what they had to say until the day was almost over.
Oh well, the day was almost over. He could go crash in bed until it was time to do it all again tomorrow. As he turned to retrieve the key that would lock the front door, a bell chimed, signaling the opening of said door. Tweek did his best not to slam his face into the counter right then and there.
“I’m sorry, we’re closed. We’ll be available again tomorrow morning.”
“That’s too bad,” Tweek’s ears perked at the familiar voice. “I was really wanting something – some one – today.”
“Craig,” the blond’s voice was merely a whisper, and Craig didn’t have time to open his arms fully to beckon Tweek before he was crashing into his chest, clinging to his navy blue sweater with his hands balled into fists.
“Hey, baby,” Craig chuckled, enveloping the shorter boy in embrace. His voice was nasally, but not in an annoying way. No, far from it, in fact. It was deep and comforting, like a rumble of thunder that promised a peaceful rainstorm.
“Happy birthday.”
Tweek tried to swallow the lump in his throat, inhaling deeply.
“I know you said you had to work late so we probably couldn’t do anything to celebrate,” Craig did his best to keep his scorn for Tweek’s parents from bleeding into his tone. He broke their hug, pulling back and placing his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders. “But, since you work so hard, and I love you so much, and it’s practically National Tweek Day, I want to do something anyway.”
The blond laughed a little, a shaky smile plastered on his lips despite the emotion threatening to spill from his eyes.
“Don’t cry,” Craig mirrored Tweek’s smile, his heart swelling. “You deserve – …”
The taller boy’s words trailed off as he gazed at the blond, his eyes flicking to the faint, purple-y bruise that had blossomed on Tweek’s pale cheek, curving underneath his left eye. Craig lifted a hand, gently caressing his face, careful not to press down on the irritated skin. “Tweek, what…”
“It’s n-nothing. It’s fine,” Tweek said quickly, pulling away and covering his cheek with his own hand. “We can talk but… N-Not here. Please. Sorry.”
“Okay,” Craig responded softly, moving to follow Tweek behind the counter to help clean up. He didn’t want his boyfriend staying here a minute longer than he needed to. If it was up to Craig, Tweek wouldn’t even be working here to begin with. He despised Richard and Helen’s forced employment of their son, and his fury had only grown when he found out a few years earlier that Tweek wasn’t paid so much as a dime for his labor. Thankfully, between the two of them, they finished quickly and made their way to the door after shutting the bright, overhead lights off.
As they made their way to Craig’s old, beat-up car, formerly owned proudly by Thomas Tucker, Tweek felt a weight rest on his shoulders as his boyfriend wrapped an arm around him. He felt the lump from earlier forming in his throat again, and silently cursed himself for it. What was with him today? Why couldn’t he just act normal? Why couldn’t he just get over it? His frustration caused a rather harsh tic to force his eye shut and the right side of his body to jolt upward for a moment. This only fueled the fire, and the knot in his chest grew. It felt sharp, as if it were scraping his esophagus and airways as emotion fought to carve its way out of Tweek’s body. His eyes burned, and he bit his lip to keep from crying out as he separated from Craig, making his way to the passenger side of the car. Once inside, Craig didn’t start the car though.
“Talk to me, babe,” he said softly, reaching over the console to rest a hand on Tweek’s knee. Craig had always been the better boyfriend, Tweek knew. He was always willing to listen, and as he matured, he learned to do so without trying to rationalize and solve every little problem. If Tweek simply needed an ear, that’s what Craig would provide. Tweek, on the other hand, was always dealing with something. If it wasn’t his debilitating anxiety, it was stress from work, school, or his parents. If it wasn’t that, it was the myriad of other mental illnesses he grappled with – depression, PTSD, OCD – you name it. He could never reason with his thoughts, and he never ceased to feel like he was just a burden in everyone’s lives.
“Tweek,” Craig whispered. By now, a few tears had begun to make their way down the blond’s cheeks. The hand on his knee had started moving in a slow, gentle back-and-forth motion. The touch was comforting, but Tweek couldn’t help the soft sobs that began to shake his frame.
“I know my parents don’t love me,” his voice quavered. “It’s – it’s fine. It’s whatever, I don’t care.” He did.
“But I just. I just wish that, th-they’d, I don’t know,” Tweek paused, sniffing. His vision was blurry with tears, but he didn’t really mind at this point. “Just, pretend, or something. Just for today. One day o-out of the entire year. Every other day is about them, why can’t there just be one about me…?”
He gave a small, mirthless laugh. His voice sounded regretful, words ridden with sadness. “I know th-that’s selfish of me, but. But everyone else gets to have that. A b-birthday, parents who care, I don’t know.”
“It’s not selfish to want that,” Craig spoke gently, only when he knew Tweek had finished for the moment. His voice was low and slightly gravelly – he was doing his best to keep his own feelings to himself for now, but it thoroughly broke his heart to see his boyfriend in such a state, one that was all too common for his liking.
“He hit me today. My dad,” Tweek gathered his arms close to his chest, almost embracing himself. “All the stuff he’s done… in the past… whatever, I guess. But I never – I never thought he w-would do something like that.” He finally turned to meet Craig’s gaze, eyes crinkling slightly as he gave the boy a despondent smile as he continued: “But I guess that means that my parents did give me a gift today,” Tweek lifted a hand to half-heartedly gesture to the bruise on his face.
“Tweek…” So many different thoughts flew through Craig’s head and he couldn’t speak, as if his tongue had stalled. He didn’t have the words, so he decided he would try to instead communicate his emotions in a different way. He leaned forward, wrapping Tweek’s smaller frame in a strong embrace. The blond was stiff for a moment, staring wide- and shiny-eyed at the car window behind Craig, until he buried his face in his boyfriend’s shoulder and wept.
The two were content to stay that way for a while.