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At the age of eleven, Craig knew he wanted to marry Tweek.
The first person he told was Stripe.
It was late at night, past eleven year old Craig’s bedtime, but he was determined to come to some sort of conclusion before he could fall asleep. He was looking at photos of his parents’ wedding day—his mom was smiling in nearly every photo, his dad had a permanent blush that nearly rivaled his hair, but the most obvious part was that they always kept looking at each other. Even when they were cutting their cake, even when they were dancing with friends and family, their eyes never left the other.
He knew about “marriage” and what that entailed. A few weeks ago, his aunt from Peru recently married, and they had flown out there to celebrate. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night because of the heat and when he wandered to the kitchen to grab a cup of water, he overheard his mom and aunt sobbing. At first, he was alarmed and nearly pivoted the hell out of there, but then his mom began to list advice after advice about marriage and what it meant.
“It’s a sacred vow,” she had said between hiccups. “You’re going to have some rough days, weeks, maybe even months, but when you took him as your husband, it meant that you’re more than willing to stand beside him through those moments, and that you both will work together to overcome it.”
Since then, he couldn’t help but compare it with his relationship with Tweek. There were times when they would get frustrated with each other—Craig’s difficulty with communicating, and Tweek’s sometimes inability to work with his anxiety—and would go days without talking to each other. Despite the little fights and arguments they have had—and will probably continue to have—they would and will always find a way back to each other no matter what. It was a big deal to the both of them, and something they had been working on ever since their first major breakup. Craig knew that if marriage meant staying beside each other no matter what, then they were already one step ahead than everyone else.
The decision and realization came within seconds
“I’m going to marry Tweek someday,” he confessed to Stripe who was asleep in his plastic house.
He carefully returned the photos of his parents wedding day to their rightful place and got cozy on his bed. He felt lighter than before, and the plaguing thoughts and questions he had were now resolved.
He closed his eyes, happy that he finally had a foundation he could start with.
The second person he told was his mom.
His dad first came to mind, but Craig quickly dismissed it. He was thirteen now which meant that his dad was given the task to talk to him about…some awkward topics. It only left them feeling more awkward, and Craig didn’t want to deal with it especially when it came to this particular topic.
Instead, he decided that his mom was the second best choice, and he finally found the opportunity to approach her about it on a Tuesday afternoon.
“Mom,” he said when he spotted her in the kitchen.
“Yeah?” she said, still scrubbing the pan with furrowed brows and fast hands.
“I want to marry Tweek.”
She dropped the pan, the sound echoing in their kitchen, and he winced. She quickly turned to him, and a large smile was on her face.
Maybe it was a bad idea to talk to his mom.
Before he could retreat, she was hugging him tightly.
“Oh, Craig, really?” She pulled back, and there were tears in her blue eyes. “That’s—wow! That’s a big decision. You’re still a boy, you know that, right?” She grinned when he scowled.
“I know!” He crossed his arms over his chest.
She sat down on one of the chairs and crossed one leg over the other. “Marriages are for adults.”
“I know,” he huffed, turning his head away. He didn’t want to remind her of all the adult things he had done. He learned how to mow the lawn, wash the dishes without breaking any, how to count money, and he had even gone with Tweek to his therapy appointments for emotional support! In many ways, he considered himself as an adult already. Plus…
“I heard some of the girls at school saying that we didn’t need to be adults to marry.” He wasn’t used to talking about his school life, but now that he opened this particular box, he might as well get all the details and advice he could get before his mom does something like pinch his cheek and tear up about how he’s “growing up too soon.”
She nodded, considering his little observation with a seriousness that was usually reserved when she was having conversations with other adults, and started to twist her wedding ring.
“You see this?” She pointed to it. “Do you know what it means?”
“It means that you’re married to dad.”
“Sure.” She twisted it again then took it off, placing it on the table. “Now that I have it off, am I still married to your dad?”
He squinted. Was it a joke? “Yeah…?”
“How do you know that? I just took off my ring.”
“You haven’t filed for divorce.”
She snorted, but her smile quickly vanished when he didn’t laugh as well. “You’re right.” She grabbed the ring again, twisting it between her fingers. “But at the end of the day, it’s just a ring. You know what makes it a wedding ring?” He shook his head. “The life I’ve shared with your dad.” She gestured around the kitchen. “What we’ve built together.”
Her eyes got teary, and Craig internally groaned. He didn’t tell her about his plan to marry Tweek for her to cry.
“We have you guys too,” she sniffed, grabbed a napkin, and dabbed her eyes. “Everything around us is a representation of what we have made together and that is a marriage.”
It didn’t really make sense. “So I need to build a house with Tweek and have kids so we could be married?”
“Is that what you see in the future with Tweek?”
He shook his head. He had enough time to think about what he envisioned for their future.
“I don’t care if we live in a box, or if we have kids, or if we get a ring.” Because, apparently, rings weren’t needed to be married. “As long as I’m with Tweek, I’ll be happy.”
She quickly dabbed her eyes to stop the tears, but he could tell she was holding back for his sake.
“Marriage is just that,” she said, her voice wobbly. “You got it right, baby.”
The endearment caught him off guard. She hadn’t called him that ever since he told her not to when he was ten. It was embarrassing. But somehow he knew that right now, it wasn’t the time to remind her about how he felt about the pet name. Instead, he let her pull him into a tight hug.
Sure, she ended up crying, but he understood a bit better what marriage would look like with Tweek when they’re older.
His friends were the next to know.
“I’m going to marry Tweek.”
They were playing video games over at Tolkien’s house since he had the newest console. It was an X-Box, but Craig decided to overlook it for the sole purpose of playing the newest Assassin’s Creed game.
It was only Tolkien, Clyde, and Jimmy—Tweek was vacationing with his parents, something about going to visit family from his mom’s side—so Craig felt it was safe enough to tell them his future plan. He had already begun looking into apartments, cars, rings—
“Dude, you’re sixteen!” Clyde nearly dropped his bowl of popcorn, his eyes wide, and mouth agape. “You’re still technically a kid!”
He shrugged, eyes not leaving the screen, as his fingers expertly pressed the buttons on the controller. “I knew since I was eleven.”
“ELEVEN!” they all shouted, and this time Craig paused the game to turn to them.
“Well, I-I be damned.” Jimmy whistled, shifting on the couch, so he could lay down. “Craig’s ready to be tied d-d-down.”
He frowned. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”
“Marriage is a big deal,” said Tolkien. He was sitting beside Craig, his hand holding the other controller.
“I know.”
“And you still want to go through with it?”
“Yeah?” Craig looked at all of their reactions. He couldn’t understand why they looked so shocked. “I love Tweek.”
“Yeah, but love is love.” Clyde placed the bowl of popcorn to the side and leaned against the couch Jimmy was currently laying on. “Sometimes, love isn’t enough to keep a marriage together.”
“Look at Stan’s parents,” continued Tolkien. “They got a divorce.”
“Because they hate each other,” answered Craig, shifting so he could be facing his friends.
“But they loved each other at some point,” said Clyde.
“Now, Stan and his sister are paying the price,” said Jimmy.
“And South Park,” mumbled Tolkien.
“But I’m not going to divorce Tweek.”
Clyde was the first to say, “How do you know that?”
“I just know.”
“But—”
“Are you guys not happy for me?” He looked around, trying to gauge their reactions, but it was difficult when they all looked like they were in deep thought.
“We are!” Tolkien hurriedly said. “But this is a big deal.”
“Super big,” nodded Clyde. “And if you’re not careful—”
“You can get hu-hu-hurt,” finished Jimmy.
“And Tweek can too,” whispered Clyde.
Craig didn’t consider the possibility of divorcing Tweek. It just didn’t seem realistic. It didn’t fit in his plans for their future.
“I just know we won’t.” He could tell that they were looking out for him. They didn’t want him to suffer like Stan’s parents. He didn’t want that for Tweek either.
“Marriage is about working together,” he said, grabbing the controller again, “and never giving up. I’m never giving up on Tweek, and I know Tweek feels the same way.” He wanted to say not to worry, but he knew that it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his friends’ worry.
Instead, he said, “Who’s going to be my best man?”
“Me!” shouted Clyde. “Of course I am!” He puffed out his chest and slapped it a few times.
Tolkien laughed and turned back to the television. “Don’t let Clyde be your best man, Craig. Who knows how he’d fuck it up.”
“He might be the reason why you guys di-d-di—break up on the same day you get married,” snickered Jimmy.
“You guys are dickholes. As if you can plan a better wedding.” He glared at Jimmy and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’d probably hire a shitty stand-up comedian instead of a band.”
“Are you talking about me?” grinned Jimmy.
They all laughed, and Craig hoped that the flow of their conversation was enough for his friends to know that he was being dead serious, and that it wasn’t a decision he made off-handedly. He had thought about it for the longest time, and he knew with utmost certainty what he wanted.
“We’re here for you no matter what, Craig,” said Tolkien, bumping his shoulder against his.
Craig smiled and resumed the game.
At the age of 19, Craig finally married Tweek.
He would have done it right when they graduated high school, but they were suddenly pulled into the whirlwind of change. They had to get to Denver at a specific date and time to sign the lease of their new apartment then attend orientation to their respective schools they got into. Before they left South Park, their families wanted to celebrate with a little get-together which involved a large amount of food, tears, and middle fingers being flipped off in lieu of tight hugs and goodbyes.
Their friends, on the other hand, were only able to meet one last time at the airport. There, middle finger goodbyes weren’t accepted, but hugs were. It was tearful, Craig had to admit, and watching Tweek hold back his own tears, watching their closest friends each go their separate way, cemented that this was real—that their new life was just about to begin.
That it was finally time to propose.
While Tweek was open about his interest in romance, swooning over every rom-com they would watch, Craig hid it better, but he was about the same level of interest as his boyfriend—soon-to-be-husband. He knew that a simple proposal wasn’t an option, but a grand gesture wasn’t something they both liked either. The right moment hit him when they were laying on the couch, watching a show on Craig’s laptop that was sitting on a pile of boxes they had yet to unpack.
They had just moved into their small apartment, and though there was a lot of empty space, Craig knew that it was only a matter of time before it got filled with memories and mementos of their time together.
Tweek was on top of him, head nestled on his chest, and he could tell from his slow breathing that he was bound to sleep at any moment.
He didn’t know what compelled him to move, to reach into his pocket where a velvet box containing a ring he had bought in secret when he was seventeen, and jostle his beloved awake. He didn’t know why it felt right to see Tweek rub his eyes and look up at him with a sleep-filled gaze, and why it felt right to do it now in the privacy of their vacant walls.
“Tweek,” he said, taking out the box, and opening it to show the ring. “I love you.”
He had lost count how many times he had written his proposal to his boyfriend only to throw it away in a pile of collecting paper balls in his trash can, couldn’t remember how many sleepless nights he had suffered because he didn’t know how he would be able to show Tweek how much he loved him, how much he wanted to make a life and build something like the house his parents had made to feel like home, or how he was really willing to stand by his side through the good and bad, through the horrid and the euphoric, and everything in-between. How could he convey all of the emotions he harbored, developed, grown with ever since he was eleven, and that the realization came to him in the middle of the night when he was talking to Stripe?
He choked, tears welled up, and said, “Marry me?”
Tweek seemed to understand like he always had when it came to Craig. His beautiful blue eyes widened, gaze flickering all over Craig’s face to take him in, savor the moment, before looking at the box. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, before a whimper escaped between his lips.
“Nngh, yes,” he whispered, looking up at Craig again. “Yes, yes, yes, Craig, yes!!”
His smile was blinding, and Craig laughed, laughed until his chest felt light, until his head started to hurt, and laughed even as he shakily put the ring on Tweek’s finger. It looked right, the simple silver colored band sitting on pale skin that Craig knew intimately.
A few weeks later, they had a small ceremony with only close friends and family. Maybe to others, their marriage seemed quick, a spur of the moment, an impulsive decision to start off adulthood with a bang—but everyone knew that it wasn’t. Even Tweek had known, in his own way, that this was a long time coming.
And every photo that was taken on their day of their marriage showed Craig’s eyes never straying away from Tweek, and his husband holding his gaze every time; it showed their gravitational pull to each other, hands always outreached to grab the other, staring at each other when they danced with friends and family, and even when they were cutting their cake, they were looking at each other as if they were the only ones there.
To Craig, marriage was always meant for them, and he had known since he was eleven years old.