Chapter Text
My name is Craig Tucker. Next week is my first dating anniversary. Ours. Me and my boyfriend Tweek’s. I was given money for my birthday, Christmas, and, a few times, for being gay. I was sooo happy because I’d saved up a good amount and I could buy something nice for Tweek. But then I remembered our relationship is fake even though it seems real to everyone, sometimes even to me. And so that is why I am in this predicament. If I die let it be known it was because a bunch of Asian girls decided it would be sweet to ‘ship’ us.
Until a few minutes ago, I was hearing half of what Mister Garrison was saying because I was trying to decide what to give Tweek next Wednesday. Now I am not listening at all because I realised it makes no sense to give him a present if we aren’t dating. I’m a fucking idiot.
“Craig, are you listening?” says Mister Garrison, putting his clenched hands on his hips.
“Yes.”
“What did I just say?” he asks.
“Oh, I wasn’t listening,” I say. Some people laugh.
“It’s okay, I get it,” he says with a sweet smile, which sucks because my intention was to annoy him. “I know you miss Tweek, but don’t worry. Class will be over soon and you can be together again during recess.”
“I don’t miss him. He’s right there, three seats away.”
“See, you counted them. You’re aware of how far apart you are from each other.”
Oh my God, this is sooo stupid. I think he may be doing it to piss me off, but I'm not sure.
“Oh my Gawd, Craig. Shut up about Tweek for a moment. Like, we get it: you have a boyfriend, no need to talk about it all the time,” says Cartman.
He knows that's a lie, he's just trying to irritate me, which is precisely why it irritates me.
“I don't talk about Tweek all the time,” I say in a neutral tone, staring at the board because I refuse to turn to look at him.
“Shut up, fatass,” spits Kyle. “Just because you're unlovable doesn't mean the rest can't mention their boyfriends or girlfriends.”
“Excuse me, Kyle. I'm having a conversation with Craig here, thank you very much,” he replies in a snobby tone.
“But I don't wanna have a conversation with you. I hate you,” I say calmly. I still have my eyes forward.
“Unbelievable,” he says, feigning disappointment and sorrow. He then speaks pretentiously. “Ahem, Mister Garrison, may we continue the lesson, please?”
Our teacher rolls his eyes.
“Sure, Eric. As I was saying…”
“If Craig shuts up about Tweek, that is,” Cartman says between his teeth.
I finally turn to look at him to flip him off.
Tweek groans and throws a paper wad at him that lands right on his left eye, which is sooo satisfying.
“Great shot, babe,” I say.
The whole class giggles, but Kenny laughs out loud non-stop and teases Cartman with words I can’t quite make out, all while the latter wails.
“Mister Garrison!” he cries. “He attacked me! Completely unprovoked! He’s out of control!”
Kenny is still laughing so hard I think he may die.
“Tweek! To the Principal’s office immediately!” shouts Mister Garrison.
Kenny abruptly stops laughing and there is complete silence until Cartman starts cackling in delight.
“Tell him I sent you so he congratulates you for that throw. It landed right on Eric's face, oh God,” continues Mister Garrison. He starts laughing, so the whole class laughs too, except for Cartman, of course. Kenny is really enjoying himself.
Tweek looks relieved as he laughs at Cartman, and I feel the same. Mister Garrison loudly sighs as a final laugh and suddenly speaks severely.
“Seriously, Tweek. Go to the Principal's.”
Tweek’s smile disappears in disbelief.
“Huh?” he says weakly.
“You also have extra credit for the next assignment, congratulations,” he adds, writing down a reminder in his notebook. “Well, don't stare at me! Go!” he roars, pointing at the door.
Tweek is so taken aback he doesn't even make a noise when he stands up nor when he walks out. He closes the door behind him and Mister Garrison starts over.
“Okay, children. As I was saying—”
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!?” shrieks Tweek from the other side of the door. “AAAGH!”
We all stay silent as we hear his screams fading away.
“JESUS CHRIST! WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM!?”
“Oh, fuck this,” says Mr Garrison, collapsing on his chair. “Do what you want for the rest of the hour, I don't give a fuck. Just stay in the room until the bell rings.”
We cheer and stand up from our seats to talk and play until recess starts.
***
“So what happened?” Tolkien asks Tweek when he approaches us in the playground during recess.
“I… I’m not sure,” he says. “PC Principal said it must have been a pretty good throw if I was sent there and so that I should try shot put instead of doing it in class, and I said I wasn't interested, so he gave a speech about the benefits of sports and exercise.”
What the fuck.
“Huh?” says Tolkien.
Jimmy and I exchange a perplexed look. Tweek shrugs, still looking confused as fuck.
“And then?” asks Clyde.
“That’s it.”
“Okay…” says Tolkien. No one has anything to add. “Let's go play ball or something,” he proposes. We all murmur in approval.
“It was a great shot, though,” I tell Tweek. The others agree with me.
“I know, right?” he says with a pleased smile.
“Absolutely, honey.”
***
The bell rings and recess is over. As we head back to the classroom, Tweek grabs my hand and pulls a little so we walk slower.
“I have gay money. Wanna go to the amusement park on Saturday?” he says.
“Yeah, absolutely.”
“Let’s go by bus, though. I hate it when my parents drive us anywhere, ugh!”
I’m actually pretty used to their comments by now, but whatever.
“I’ll ask my parents to drive us,” I offer.
“Awesome,” he replies. He lets go of my hand and goes to his seat.
***
“Mom, dad. Can you drive us to the amusement park on Saturday?” I ask at dinner.
“You’re going to the amusement park?” says my dad, looking at me and Tricia alternately. “We should all go as a family, then.”
“Not me and Tricia. Me and Tweek.”
“Oh... Sure, son. Do you need money for the tickets or something?” he says, already taking out his wallet.
“Yes.”
“Here,” he says, handing me fifty dollars, which makes me sooo happy.
“Thomas!” says my mom, and now I’m sooo disappointed. “They will want snacks and souvenirs. Don’t be so stingy.”
“You’re right. Sorry, Craig. Have some more.”
I am sooo happy again.
“How come he always gets money?” whines my sister.
“Because he’s gay and has a boyfriend. It's reparations for historical systemic and systematic homophobia,” explains my dad.
That's definitely not why it is, but why would I give a fuck anyway?
“Yeah. If you got a girlfriend you'd get money too, but you’re too ugly,” I tell her.
She flips me off and I do the same.
***
While my dad and Tweek’s parents exchange polite greetings, Tweek approaches me. He looks a bit bummed.
“Terrible news, Craig,” he says with a hint of sadness.
My heart starts racing. I know that somehow it is related to us as a couple, albeit a fake one.
“The gay effect is dying out. My dad only gave me fifteen dollars for today,” he tells me.
I feel sooo relieved.
“It's okay, Tweek. My dad quite recently started giving me gay money. I think he feels guilty over his past attitude. I never gave a fuck, though.”
My dad said he accepted me being gay but he was clearly uncomfortable with it for a while, even if he thought he was good at hiding it. I didn’t give a fuck, but now he wants to make up for it. Maybe he attended a course to become hashtag woke or something, I don’t know, but I don’t care either. As long as it gets me money I don’t give a fuck, because why would I give a fuck anyway?
“Wonderful. I still have a little saved for today,” says Tweek, showing me a whole lot of money.
“I don't think we need that much, but that's pretty cool,” I tell him.
“I think we will,” he says with a cocky smile.
“What do you mean?”
He doesn't reply and we get in the car. His father waves and says some bullshit I purposely ignore, but it makes Tweek yelp in frustration.
***
“Alright boys, have fun,” says my dad when he parks the car. “Here, have some money, Craig.”
I take the bill he is handing me. Not bad, but I’m pretty sure I can get some more.
“Twenty dollars?” I say after staring at it for a moment. I look him in the eye with a blank yet meaningful stare.
“You're right, son,” he quickly agrees. “Have ten more.”
His guilt is sooo awesome. I hope it never runs out. Best part is I never gave a fuck about his disapproval back then, because why would I?
***
We head to the nearest ride and the sight depresses me.
“We’ll be queuing for hours,” I point out.
Tweek smiles. “No, we won’t,” he says, pulling my hand gently and walking to the beginning of the line.
“Please let us in,” he says to a weary-looking girl.
“Sure. After you wait in line like everyone else,” she replies like she wants to end it all.
Tweek hands her a dollar. The girl takes it, looking slightly less uninterested.
“Go,” she says.
Tweek gets inside and I go behind him. People behind us start complaining. The girl stops me before I can get in too.
“One dollar each,” she says.
“Ngh!” grunts Tweek, which is a word in itself.
He hands her another dollar and she lets me in too. People complain louder and I flip them off while we laugh at them from our seats.
I hear some people offering to pay a dollar to get in as well and the girl agrees and tells them to form a line so they can pay her in order. I don’t think the ride is gonna top how funny that is.
“That was a great idea, Tweek,” I say with admiration.
“I was willing to give her twenty,” he says, laughing.
“I hope they are all just as underpaid and accept a dollar too,” I comment.
The day is now over and it was sooo fun. We skipped all the lines. I had never gone to so many rides in my life. We skipped the line to buy cotton candy too. And hotdogs. And every snack, actually. All thanks to one or two dollars each time, except for when we wanted ice cream and the guy let us skip the line for free because we were a gay couple. Hooray for allies with a guilt complex.
“That was such a great idea, Tweek,” I tell him again while we wait for my father to come pick us up.
“Thank you,” he says proudly. “I had a great time.”
“Me too, babe,” I tell him.
Shit. Fuck. I did it again. I called him a pet name when no one else was around. Once again, I pretend it didn't happen.
I fuck up all the time. This is supposed to be fake dating, but I keep trying to act as if it were real. We are even holding hands right now even though there’s no one around. We’re supposed to pretend for others.
I fucking hate myself right now.
However, it appears to amuse Tweek, because he smiles at me without saying a word. It feels nice, so I smile back. I can pretend this is real for myself too, just for this moment.