Work Text:
hey, are you awake?
Sent.
I look at the time on my phone, it's almost four am. I've been tossing and turning trying to sleep but as you can see, it's been fruitless. Stripe has also noticed it, and he also moves, restlessly; he makes sounds full of curiosity because I'm pretty sure he knows that when the lights are off it means I'm asleep.
I sigh, hating the future headache I'll have due to the lack of sleep. The future headache that will only increase because I'm thinking way too hard about how much I want to sleep that I become even more alert. A stupid vicious circle of grumpiness.
How much has passed since I sent the message? A lot, I guess, or maybe just a few minutes. I bet this night was one of those where the fatigue defeated him at a reasonable time. Tomorrow morning he'll wake up confused and his limbs will feel heavy, but around noon he'll feel better and as a brand new person. Maybe this time the streak will last longer, and he'll be able to sleep well for a few more days. That would be ideal. He needs it. I think it's time I go look for... my phone buzzes and several messages pop up.
I'm always awake. What are you doing awake? Everything alright? Is Stripe okay? Are you okay?
Never mind. This is definitely not one of those nights.
Craig???????
I start writing and press send.
calm down. i just can't sleep. everything's alright, stripe also can't sleep. my fault.
His messages flood my phone.
Are you sure? It's not normal that you can't sleep. Are you ill? Maybe you just got sick, it's been colder than usual.
I smile at my phone; Tweek always overthinks.
yeah, i'm sure. i'm fine, i only wanted to talk. what are you doing?
Since I've known him, he had always had many activities under his sleeve when the time passed this slow. A large repertoire for every degree of tiredness; most often he says it's a feeling of being too awake to sleep, but too tired to do most things. A horrible limbo.
Don't laugh but I'm painting one of those mandala books.
He can't see or hear if I'm laughing or not. I don't do it, anyway. I get the deal behind it, or how he gets it.
don't worry i wouldn't laugh at that. pencils or watercolors?
I answer him and I invite him to elaborate.
Pencils. Watercolors are not on my side this time.
I see.
too tired for them?
If that's the case it'd make sense.
Yes, I'm afraid I'll spill the water. Or drink it.
That happened once. The first thing. Tweek called me real sad in his extremely tired state. He sounded even more down than in any other situation; he really likes coloring books. The next message takes him a bit longer.
Remember when that happened? The book was brand new and now it's all crumpled. I feel guilty over every bit that got ruined and never got to be colored. A crime against coloring books. Not even children mess up a book like that. Yes. They can't follow the lines, and they don't know that some dark colors don't fit well because they look opaque and sad, and this kinda thing is supposed to look colorful and bright, or at least I like it that way, which I guess is the main purpose of coloring books. No?
It is becoming uncomfortable to lie down or even sit up in bed. It’s boring. The kind of boring I don't like because it's not consensual. I could go for a walk. Nobody would notice if I'm careful enough even if they are heavy sleepers, me included.
Craig??? Are you asleep? Good night.
Before he can go back to his previous activities I send him a new message.
no, wait. are your parents asleep? it's so late that it's early. lets go for a walk, they won't notice.
I wait for his answer while my head is flooded with ideas.
They are.
Great.
perfect. get dressed, i'll wait for you outside.
I turn off the screen to prepare myself for this new adventure, but my phone buzzes again.
Where are we going?
don't worry we are not going to the pond.
Ah, okay. I'll be waiting for you.
For some reason, Tweek doesn't like Stark's Pond. Maybe it has to do with the fact he broke his leg while ice skating or maybe due to the stories about aliens, Big Foot, and such. Even I don't know if I should believe them or not. Especially considering the forest that surrounds it.
I get up without turning the light on, scaring Stripe, who runs desperately inside his new house. He's growing up and needs all the space in the world to feel safe, even if I'd love him to know that no one will harm him under my watch. Maybe my dad, but he just doesn't know how to control his strength while holding him and he also swears that Stripe will be as chill as he is with me, which no.
I turn the light on and start getting dressed. I put on two scarves. One for me, the other for Tweek. He'll get cold, I know. Even if he remembers to wear one. I'd like to bring a thermos with coffee with me, but I'd be pushing my luck and my parents' or Tricia's sleep. I never know with that little demon.
I go downstairs a bit carelessly because I don't want to keep Tweek waiting. I pat my pocket to make sure I've got my phone, take my keys and without making any more noise than necessary I open and close the door behind me.
It's not snowing, but the wind's present. Nothing out of the ordinary for this time of the year. My bike is against the garage wall, waiting for me as usual. That's one of the few things I like about South Park; nobody wants to steal bikes.
I pedal to the Tweak's. It's not that far, but sometimes I want it to be even closer. But tonight, the distance is a good way to warm up.
I'm passionate about the night/dawn. I feel if I had the same sleeping problems as Tweek, even though he stopped drinking as much coffee as he used to, I'd try to remember and dissect every sound. I'll make up conversations between the crickets I hear everywhere. I'll open the window to let those sounds surround me just like they do now while I'm riding my bike among the streets, illuminated by weak streetlamps, but I could shield myself from the wind with my blankets while I'm sitting on my bed. Ah, it's a really appealing idea, but I know that only the beginning would be like that. The wild creativity created by nature sounds would flood my head and get stuck there when I get too tired to do something about it. Too awake to sleep, but too tired to do something productive.
It's something nice to ponder about when you don't really have any kind of insomnia.
Being part of something that almost everyone misses, a luxury that becomes tedious when the routine gets mandatory and full of other consequences. None of this makes Tweek's eyebags worthwhile.
Approaching his house, I can see a figure that I wouldn't recognize if I didn't know Tweek's waiting for me. He took keeping warm seriously. I don't blame him, though. But I still think it's weird that he's so resistant to cold during the day, and that at night those defenses completely disappear.
I stop in front of him and smile.
"Hi, honey."
"Hey, Craig. I didn't know we were riding our bikes" He pauses. "I should have thought that."
"Nah," I quickly answer. "Let's ride mine. You can sit on the frame, it's not far."
"Is it safe?" He asks a bit unsure.
"I'll be careful, I promise." Doubt shows on his face for a few seconds, but he finally just nods.
"Okay. I only hope we don't fall." He laughs and gets closer analyzing the space. At that very moment I get a better idea.
"Wait, you know what? I've got a better idea." I sit on the bike's frame while putting my feet on the wet pavement. "Sit here." I say patting the seat. "This way it won't be uncomfortable."
After a few minutes of us getting comfortable in these new positions, I start pedaling. I have no choice but to put my weight on the handlebars, since Tweek is using the seat. It's not that complicated, but it's harder than how they make it look in the movies. At least I'm getting some exercise, and I have one of Tweek's hands on my waist. The muscle pain will be totally worth it.
About five or ten minutes, we arrive to our destination without casualties, but with cramped legs.
"The park?" Tweek asks, his hand leaving my waist. Rhetoric question, of course.
He gets off the bike before me and stretches his legs. I don't move yet, I don't wanna fall.
"It's better at night, right?" I know he likes silence. The park is in constant chaos during the day, especially when the kindergartners get out of school, or at weekends.
I muster the courage to get off my bike and I leave it on the floor. No one near to complain about an improbable accident. I walk towards Tweek, who went to the swings, instinctively. He sat on a colorful seat illuminated by the sun that threatens to rise in a few more minutes.
I take off the extra scarf and place it around his neck without scaring him. He doesn't complain and looks at me while his hand takes mine and gives it a little squeeze. A silent thank you to not ruin the morning ambiance. I do it back, while my other hand goes straight to his hair. That clump of messy hair, but incredibly softer than it looks. It’s tangled, yes, it's a little damaged, that too, but nothing made me stop wanting to do so.
Tweek follows my hand for more and leans towards me. I live for this kind of moments where Tweek feels at ease even if we are at a public place. I don't care about how this started, because it started to count when we both put our hearts into it and it'll stop when it has to. I hope that's not soon.
I open my eyes. I didn't realize I had closed them as I got distracted by the warmth and the emotions. I notice the sun is about to rise. I wonder how much has passed while we were here. I squeeze his hand to call his attention, and I whisper his name.
"Tweek, look. The sun’s rising."
He leans back and looks at the horizon before looking back at me.
"Sit down with me."
"Okay." I answer, sitting on his legs and hugging him to not fall.
It's perfect. The sun rising, the breeze, the small sigh he lets out, the hug's warmth and the slight swaying of the swing. I wouldn't trade this for a night's sleep. Fuck the headache and bad mood; Tweek might not be the cure, but I'd rather have this.
Mi throat tightens. These feelings are getting out of control. I look at Tweek trying to decipher his gaze and, to my great surprise, he is staring at me. He openly smiles and moves enough to brush his lips with mine. I'm speechless.
"Thank you, Craig. Watching the sunrise is nice when you can't sleep but watching you do it is even better." He looks at me sweetly and starts to laugh.
"What?" I ask, catching the breath I didn't know I had lost.
"You are as red as a beet." I cover my face with a hand. Fully embarrassed.
"You don't usually..." I pause, clearing my throat. "You don't usually say that kind of stuff."
"I know, but maybe this is a good moment to start."
"Warn me beforehand." I uncover one eye, and I look at him.
"It's not funny if I can't see you like this." He laughs, hugging me with both arms, keeping the balance pretty well, I might add. He sighs against my clothes. "The day's starting, we should go back."
"No, not yet. The day can wait."
We kiss for a bit more and continue to enjoy the new day, until some cars start to pass by. Now it's time to go.
Without making any comment we walk towards the bike and only a look was necessary to decide we would walk to his house. The walk there was silent as we enjoyed each other's company and how the town became alive once again.
When we arrived at his house, I hug and kiss him once more. I wait until he closes the door behind him and ride my bike back to my house. If anyone is awake it'd be chaos even if it's Saturday. When I arrive, everything seems fine. I leave my bike where I first found it and I carefully open the door.
"Where were you, young boy?" My mom. Great.
"I just..."
"Thomas! Craig's home." She yells towards the kitchen from where I can hear a oh. Eloquent as always. "Hey! Don't just oh me, come scold him!"
"I oh whoever I want! Now come have breakfast, Tricia woke up early just for this." Oh, so it's her fault.
When I go into the kitchen, I see my sister with a smirk on her face. She planned it.
I flip her off; she does it back.