Archive of Our Own

It wasn't like they weren't friends.

Or rather, it wasn't as if they were ever really strangers, but who could be considered such in a mountain town like theirs? Had Cartman ever been friends with Craig? Absolutely not, he’d feel bad at the mere idea, yet they had played together since kindergarten, simply because if you were born and raised in a town like theirs you play with whoever happened to be next to you, sympathy plays such a small role to be almost negligible in places like South Park.

So it was really difficult to give a name to a relationship there, especially for particular bonds like the one between  two elementary school boys who passively found themselves in the same group of friends. That's why Craig couldn't really say he had ever hated him, much less that he had never spoken to him at all: there had also been that one occasion in which they had fought, finding themselves as hospital bedmates over some utter bullshit that had never even had something to do with them as much as with an external four-fucking-assholes’ bet.
Yet, he found himself thinking, eyes locked on the monstrosity that was Wendy Testaburger's presentation and ears full of the quiet gasps and whispers that were coming from every direction, this seemed like quite the exaggeration, all things considered.

Tweek Tweak, two boys away from him, didn't fight the scandalised "What?" that left his lips while Wendy was explaining yet another fact of this outlandish new type of art movement. And if Craig wasn't a fan of modern art to begin with, now it was starting to sound like the type of things he didn't appreciate in life. Like baths, Church on Sundays and Clyde complaining about girls in general.
Wendy's voice sounded even more annoying than usual today too, especially when she changed slide again, showing the entire fucking school a picture tall as a house of someone remotely similar to Tweek under another guy who was a little too similar to himself.
And way too close to the other for comfort.

“What the fuck?”

╡╬╞

Craig was honestly convinced his days would be ruined inexorably when he started walking hand in hand with Tweek. He had always been a creature of habit, at peace with his routine. He had seen the blond kid like a bright and noisy meteor, a collision course away from his stable little planet.
The thing was, Craig had expected Tweek's figure to be too big for his days. Too tiring, too loud.
In truth, other than the hand-holding when they were in the same place and  the sitting together rule in the cafeteria, Tweek hardly even stood a chance of being a problem for Craig's routine, because he had his habits too, but they were much less self-managed.

Just two days after they "got together", in fact, Tweek immediately set the record straight.

"I can't come to your house Craig- gh- ah! I've got my sh- sh- goddammit- a shift until 10 p.m., man. My dad would kill me."

He had shifts starting at 4.30 p.m. nearly every day, the other quickly discovered. The two days spent at his  house after school were nothing more than his dad emphasizing how much he supported his dear little homosexual son. And now that people were starting to stop lurking behind Tucker's windows to watch them play XBox (Fuck Bill Gates, Jesus.) , he wanted his only worker back.
That was fine though, it just made Craig's days easier.
And while the idea of a 9-year-old working 5+ hours a day, every day after school, would have struck anyone as weird, Craig absolutely didn't give a shit.

╡╬╞

The next morning he had met the others outside of school, everyone gathered to listen to Eric Cartman presenting his next bullshit to Kyle, Stan and Kenny. Craig wasn't particularly interested in the subject, but Clyde and Tolkien were there and the bell hadn't rung yet, so he had done as usual and waited with them. Tweek was also present, however, impossible not to notice him moving in small jerks in his place. As expected therefore, Craig stood at his side, silently slipping his hand into his, trying to understand what his classmate was talking about with far too much emphasis.
Not that it had much importance, as attention was soon stolen by a startled scream.

"Aahh-! Oh Jesus!"

Craig looked for a second at his outstretched hand, now free again, then at the figure of Tweek, almost curled up and shaking, his gaze down and full of shame. He flipped him off.
"I'm- ark! I'm sorry Crai- gggh! I've got- Got a really fucked up night. Sorry."
"What happened dude?" Stan asked.
Tweek reached for his hair, gripping the roots; Craig wondered if he was trying to calm down or was just pulling for the unwanted attention.
"I just -ngh! We had that stupid present- pf- Fuck! …Presentation about Garrison's stupid new tv show and I worked until past 11 p.m. and I -nghhh! I've spent the night on that shitty thing!"

Kyle Broflovski, being the usual dickhead who wanted to pass himself off as a benefactor, compassionately watched the blond take his "boyfriend's" hand in his trembling one.
"Um, Craig? Why don't you take Tweek to the vending machines? I'm sure some coffee would calm him down a bit."
Craig looked straight at him, a little pissed off at the invitation.
"Why."
Kyle looked around at his friends, then back at him. "Because he's your boyfriend, dude. Shouldn't you help him?"
He didn't have the time to respond because Tweek was already marching towards the school entrance without saying a word, pulling him by the hand like a train. Craig made sure to give Kyle his middle finger before he went, because if he really wanted to be a champion of justice, he might as well walk the long way to the vending machines before class started himself.

"Dude. The vending machines are in the other direction." He commented to his classmate, who didn't even turn to look at him before starting to talk; a river in flood.
"Motherfucker! He didn't even talk to me directly, Jesus! Am I a dog? Ngh-! Am I a fucking dog, Craig? Goody two shoes fucking talking about- aaahk! About me like I'm not fucking there! Like I'm a toddler!"
He stopped, letting go of the other's hand and furiously searching his backpack for something, until he took out his usual thermos, still bigger than any other container of liquids Craig had ever seen, bringing it to his mouth without relaxing the pissed off expression on his face.
After a few frantic sips, Tweek caught his breath, suddenly calmer despite everything.

"Can't even think before speaking. Piece of shit. When was the last time I- nghhh- Motherfu- When was the last time I fucking bought coffee from that thing. Tastes like piss."
Craig just chuckled at the rant, listening with interest to his classmate continuing to complain.
"Never needed someone to- aaahk! To fucking take me anywhere, Jesus. But now they think I'm- nghhh! Gay, so I suddenly need help, fucking shit!"

And yet, Craig thought as he found himself laughing for the second time and Tweek took his hand back for the umpteenth time to head towards their classes, it was him who had carried Craig along the corridors of the school.
But it wasn't that bad. 
Better to hear Tweek Tweak shit-talk Kyle Broflovski than hear whatever ridiculous plan those four were about to pursue, after all.
Craig watched him sip his coffee in complete silence, completely  unaffected by his lack of response after how much he was taken by the affront of his alleged "friend".
As much as it was yet another break from Craig’s school routine, maybe it wasn't so bad this time.
He could get used to this.

╡╬╞

Things remained essentially the same for Craig for the next three days. Waking up, getting ready for school, having his mother greet him with a kiss on the forehead and a middle finger, riding the bus after having caught Clyde's eyes in the crowd, doing his lessons and listening to Tweek talk about whatever happened to him while holding hands; lunch, more classes, more thoughts of Tweek, Red Racers, homework, the evening episode of his favourite space documentary, bedtime.
The only big difference was the lack of punishments, but they were nothing more than a plus as they allowed him not to miss the recaps of previous episodes of his afternoon TV series.
And then sending teachers to fuck themselves without repercussions, also finding himself with extra money in hand, was no longer as terrible as it had seemed at the beginning: he had essentially considered every adult in his school to be annoying long before he started pretending to be Tweek's boyfriend.
It was just the latest gifted $20 bill left by his history teacher for failing to answer a question that made Clyde fervent, who began to complain as soon as he left the class, Tolkien and Jimmy in tow.

"It's not fair, dude! How is that you get to do what you want now? Must be nice receiving so much money…"
Craig gave him the bird in silence. Try to find yourself painted on a wall curled up on your classmate. He thought, but did not express himself, because he could not.
"You can't say that to a gay man, Clyde." Tolkien advised, almost worried, glancing at the blankness that was Craig's face.
"Yeah fella, you need to be c- c- ehhh- careful of what you say. As a minority now Craig c- can frame your a- aaa- butt." commented Jimmy.
And if his teasing tone was clear to all those present, Clyde did not figure it out and looked with concern at his historical best friend, worried about a possible complaint.
"You wouldn't do that to me, right, dude? I don't wanna go to prison."
Craig rolled his eyes. "No, I won’t."
"N-not yet." Jimmy whispered in his ear, who seemed to find Clyde's new position in the group very amusing. "You're the last one standing, my guy. Now your friendships are a m-muh-mine yard."
Clyde began to sweat, looking around worriedly. "But- But if I'm the only non-minority left, aren't I the minority now?"
"OOF"
"Oh Jesus Christ."
"What? What did I say?! Are you gonna frame me??"
Tolkien clapped his hand to his forehead in exasperation, while Jimmy laughed like the motherfucker he had always been. "I won't. As long as you never say something like that again."

Craig looked past Clyde, noticing Tweek in the crowd talking to a girl in his class.

He left the group behind without saying anything, revealing himself in no time at his side, between the blond and what’s-her-name. Tweek let out a scream when he felt someone silently grab his hand, but calmed down as soon as he set his gaze on Craig, smiling immediately at him. "Hey man. You scared me." And Craig surprised himself at what he instinctively said next.

"Sorry."
Oh, ok. What the fuck? 

"Awww!"
They turned simultaneously to the girl, still standing beside them, hands joined in adoration. "You two are so in love, I'm jealous."
Craig had already forgotten she was there and maybe that was why he didn't have time to raise his middle finger before Tweek spoke.
"Right." He commented stone-coldly.

"Now if you can ex-gah! -Xcuse me, I want to spend some time alone with my boyfriend." he said, emphasising the term and not waiting for an answer, leading Craig on his way.

"She was insane, man: you arrived just on time. Almost too on time, if I think about it. Did you get tricked by someone on your way, by any chance? Do you- ngggghhhh! Do you think somebody followed me around and sent you to save me just at the right moment?? Oh, God! Aaak! This is so much pressure!"
"I didn't talk to anyone."

Tweek took a breath. "You didn't? Oh, nghhh-! Nice. Okay. And so she comes to me, like, all butterflies and glit- ttth, ah fuck. Butterflies and glitters… and insists on wanting to paint my nails with her stickers or something, I don't know, Jesus. And- ngggh! Do you know what the fuck they put in those things, like, nail polish? Because I don't but I'm sure is nothing but chemicals and stuff that probably makes your nails fall. Ahh fuck! I bet she wanted to steal my nails and sell them to the black market or something. People are nggg! Fh- fucking insane, man"
He stopped, as he often did after emptying himself of his own thoughts, fumbling in the messy half-open backpack in search of his coffee. "And you?" he asked, not even looking up as he pulled out the object of his desire.
Craig gave him a confused look until Tweek laid his eyes on him again.

"Your day, man. How was your- ngghh, your day?"
"It was normal." He supposed. Nothing had happened out of the ordinary, after all. But looking into Tweek's eyes, usually turned away like his fleeing attention, he realised the blond expected him to say more. And with amazement Craig also realised that, contrary to his normal modus operandi, where he tried to avoid conversations of this type and small talks by cutting them short as much as possible, now he really didn't want something like this to happen with him.
He tried to remember anything happening to him worth telling; never in his life did Craig wish he had encountered some kind of annoyance to talk about.

Annoyance.

"Today Clyde got all whiny because we receive money for being a gay couple and he does not."
Thank God for his best friend.

"Ah!" commented Tweek. "Should go make out with a dude dddngh-- then. He'll probably make more money than us both."
Craig grinned amused, Tweek continued to think aloud. "If- nghhh! If just us holding hands gives us what we have now, just imagine what he would receive with something more."

Craig stilled.

"Dude."
Tweek stopped walking too, looking up at him. "What?"

"We can become rich."

The blond's eyes widened in surprise, understanding what his classmate meant.
"Aaak!" He let go of Craig's hand, covering his face with both arms, squeezing a few blonde strands between his fingers. "We can't fucking kiss in front of everyone, ga- aaah! I'd probably die from a heart attack, man!". Craig watched as Tweek hunched over, before squatting down on his own knees. The kid thought his next words carefully. "Kissing's gross anyway." He conceded, and Tweek, beside him, nodded earnestly, still tucked behind his own trembling arms.
"But we could trick everyone to give us more money just by acting more in love with each other, I think."

He looked down at the blond, who still didn't seem convinced of the new idea. "This could backfire so bad- nnnnnt…!"
Craig dropped to his knees too, seeking his dubious gaze. He took his arm gently, without thinking about it. 
"You acted really good before. You can trick anyone if you want to."

It was a fact that Tweek ended up being a really talented actor after their break up fiasco that almost destroyed Craig's social circle. Also he knew Tweek wanted a new bicycle since his had been destroyed beyond repair just a month before, and Craig kind of really wanted that new Red Racers car set his mom already refused him to ever look at after his last math test. So he already had many reasons why he was positive the trouble of taking things to the next level with Tweek would certainly be worth it.
Yet, when the trembling blonde looked at him at last, looking almost enchanted by Craig's words, the smile he received back, paired with a set of eyes illuminated by a new bright light, made Craig even more sure of it all.

At least he ended up doing it with Tweek Tweak instead of someone else.

The blond stood up again, taking a deep breath and shaking his hands in an attempt to calm himself down. He looked into Craig's eyes, more assured now.
"Let's get all of those assholes' money."

╡╬╞

They started their plan that same day, during their lunch break. It wasn't as if they were already organised, in fact Craig wasn't even expecting anything when Tweek sat next to him, a little closer than necessary, handing him the snack he was keeping on his tray in addition to his lunch. Craig looked at him for a second, confused; Tweek smiled at him, moving it closer to the other.

"Dessert. I bought it -nggh. For you.”

"Oh." commented stupidly. Continuing to stare at him dumbfounded.

Tweek's eyes widened slightly, trying to tell him to move to accept the gift before it felt weird. Or before the blond fell victim to a panic attack and went out of character fucking dying.
Obviously it was all in vain and an interminable second passed before the black-haired kid returned working with his brain, all because Eric Cartman broke the silence.

“Aww, you guys. Gay people are so sweet.”
“Yeah- yes!” Craig erupted at full volume, continuing in what Tweek took to be his best performance. “Thank you, Tweek. I appreciate it very much.”

“Oh Jesus.” he commented in a low voice, while the other took the snack from his hands, placing it neatly on the side of his plate.

Craig resumed eating in silence, under everyone's eyes, Tweek tried to do the same, taking the fork in trembling hands and trying his best to be at ease. At least the cheap non-recycled plastic cutlery the school kept buying even though it was supposed to be “PC” didn't rattle like his metal ones at home.
It still struck Tweek as odd that he had a regular seat at that table now, but ever since Craig and he had become a “thing”, they all kind of assumed they were supposed to sit together. It wasn't like he'd ever argued with his former classmates, but since they'd started fourth grade and Tweek had been one of the few of their old group to find himself in the other section, the interactions had gradually diminished, until the boy had started talking with other people. Lots of acquaintances to spend time with at school, not a stable group to lean on. But Tweek had always been a busy kid anyway because of his job at the cafeteria, as well as the time he wasted sitting with doctors, therapists, and psychologists, so it was okay to have no one to rely on, no matter what.
Or rather, it was fine, until this yaoi fever set in, forcing him to cling to his oldest friends, even though he no longer felt fully a part of them.

“I was thinking, Tweek.” Kyle suddenly began to speak, causing the interested party to let out a frightened yelp. "When did you stop eating meat?”
Tweek looked down at his plate, evidently different from what everyone else had taken that day. Suddenly he had lost what little appetite he had.
“Ah- nghh… you know. I don't really eat… meat anymore. Since Ju- nnnngh, goddammit, since June, I think.” 
“Wow…” commented by the redhead’s side Stan, staring at Tweek and his plate with a new light of interest.
Kyle side-eyed his super best friend with reluctance, before looking back at the blond. "And you're sure it's the best idea?”

Kyle wasn't trying to be rude, Tweek knew that deep, deep inside him, especially since he felt what becoming a pussy felt like first-hand. But it was difficult sometimes dealing with a know-it-all who didn't, in fact, know it all, even if it was once one of his best friends.

Also Tweek was kinda quick to anger, especially if under pressure.

“Lay off, man! This is - This is the vegetarian meal of today! It was done purposely to put everything you need in it without- aak! Without any meat there!”
“Since when do we have vegetarian options?” Clyde looked cautiously around the table,
“Since, like, a week after PC Principal arrived at this school?! Are you guys for real?” Tweek's heart was starting to pound, his breath coming short. He took a sip from his thermos, left on the table next to the tray.
“Oh, I didn't even notice.” Stan told him, stupidly sorry. "And where is it?"
Tweek took his hair in his hands. “Right… right beside all the stuff you all pick everyday? It's- nghhh! It's been there for months- It changes with- with your menu everyday-- It's between all the other options! You just- fuck! Have to look!”
“As long as they don't take away the type of crap I like, I'm okay.”
“Shut up, Cartman.”
“Ay!”
“Dude, is everything alright?” Tolkien asked, barely brushing the other's shoulder, and, no, that wasn't alright at all. Absolutely nothing was going right for him at that moment, as his clothes were starting to itch and the lights were starting to dance in his eyes: the walls were all over around him and Tweek felt like he was going to suffocate.

In an instant he was on his feet, grabbing his coffee in one hand and his open backpack in the other before scurrying off. Not a word of explanation.
They all watched the door slam behind him, then turned to look at Craig, who had been silent watching the interaction. He sighed, also standing up with all eyes on him.

“What.”
“We should ask you that, what the fuck happened?” Kyle asked worriedly.

“I don't know.”
"Well… do you know where he went?” Stan tried.

"No."
“Do you want help?” Kenny spoke thirdly from under his jacket since now he only came for company, preferring to eat with Karen in the courtyard.
Craig flipped him off before turning and going out in search of the blond.

"Oh, fuck you, dude!"
“Yeah, gay people are such drama queens, I swear to God. They have more sand in their vaginas than Kyle.”
“Fuck you, fatass!”
“Haha, fuck you, Kyle.”

╡╬╞

It wasn't difficult for Craig to find him given the trail of things he had left behind in his mad escape with an open backpack. Tweek was in the back, where the goth kids usually stayed to skip class. He was sitting on the steps, his head in his arms: he was shaking like a leaf.

“Tweek?”
He didn't answer, he didn't look up at him. Craig watched him stiffen, but even that couldn't stop his trembling. He sat next to him.

“I brought your stuff.”
This caught his attention, making him lift his face to look at whatever belongings he had left in his way. Only then he did realise that Tweek was crying, and he almost cursed himself for having approached: he had seen with Clyde how hard it was to deal with a crybaby, and he knew he was no good at making someone stop crying: hell, with Clyde he usually made it worse and start over.
But, again, who was he supposed to curse this time? The Asian girls? Kyle? No one had told him to follow him this time, maybe they had all taken it for granted, but so had he. No one had forced him to get up, he had followed him without thinking because he had seen him in difficulty.
That was so not like Craig, though.

Contrary to what the boy feared, however, Tweek didn't start crying again like Clyde usually did, but took the crumpled textbooks Craig had picked up in his hands, wiping away the last tears. “Thanks, man.”
Craig said nothing. Silence fell as he watched Tweek stare at the ground, still shaking from his usual spasms.

“I'm sorry.”
Craig looked at him curiously. “For what.”
“Don't- Don't even start with that crap, dude, it doesn't suit you at all.” He rested his chin on his knees, wrapping his arms around his legs as if he wanted to hug himself, taking a breath.
“I- I always aakk-ct like I'm fucked up in the head, I can't stand it.”. He chuckled bitterly to himself, his eyes still on the ground. “I mean, maybe I am. Fucked up in the head, I mean. Who the fuck get scared over things that aren't real?”

“Is that what happened?”
“I mean… that was the start of a panic attack I think, I have plenty of them, anyway. Should- Aak! Should have gotten used to it by now.”
“That sucks.” Craig commented without thinking, watching Tweek's shoulders stiffen beside him and feeling an unusual pang of panic. Tweek, however, looked at him with an amused look, nodding his head slowly. 

Craig relaxed beside him, putting his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt and finding the set of keys he had collected during his search for the other.

"Oh."
“What?”

“I just remembered. I found these too earlier, I didn't know if they were yours, though.”. He showed him the newfound item. Tweek's eyes widened in panic. "Oh, Jesus Christ!" Craig found him on himself in an instant, inducing a rare scandalised "What?!" out of him.
“These are the spare keys to the music room! Dude! You just saved my life! Nghhh- Mr. Mackey would have killed me!”

“Why do you have the spare keys of the music room?”
“Oh- Because I play in the morning.”

“What.”
It was almost funny how all of Craig's questions seemed like affirmation by his tone.

“I- Uh… I never use the bus to come to school. It freaks me out since it's, like, all closed and small and- nghh… suffocating.” He tried to explain himself, stumbling over his own words. “So I walk to school, y'know, but I never understood the right timing, especially… Especially because what if something happens and I get expelled for arriving too late? It's terrifying! ahkkk My-! My dad would sell me to slavery!”

“Slavery…?”
“Yes! And, y'know, so I always arrive here way before the start of -nghhh- School. Like- Two hours or something before, sometimes, since I don't know what else to do at home while waiting and stressing over it.”

“I don't know. Sleep?” He found himself commenting, receiving a confused look.

“That's a pretty joke, actually.” Tweek commented, taking a sip from his thermos as if to underline the obvious. “What, you expect me to sleep every night?”
“You don't.” That was probably not a question after all.

“Any- nghhh! Anyway. The fact is that Mr. Mackey was not a fan of me waiting two hours outside of school. Something about Colorado's winter, the responsibility of his role and me be-eing, without a jacket or something, I don't know, I usually stop listening after a-aak! A while.”
“I do too!” Craig commented more emphatically than Tweek had ever seen him.
“Right? He's so talkative, sometimes! Like he can't reach the end of his conversation- without always adding something new!”
Craig nodded in agreement.

“But! He was the one who gave me these. To enter the school way before everyone else and just… chill in the music room.”
“And what do you do there.”
“Play?”

This surprised Craig. “You can play an instrument?”
“I guess? 'S not like I got taught or anything. But I don't sleep most of the time. So when I don't know what to do and I need a break I just practise onmyown- nnnt! Got a pianola at home and everything.”

That was really cool, Craig thought, but didn't feel like expressing it out loud.

“It's not like I can play every instrument there, obviously. Just the piano probably! But… Uh… I'm trying to learn some songs on other instruments too. Always when they’re not wind instruments. Don't wanna fucking die, man."
"Yup. Getting sick from spit of the people in South Park doesn't seem like the best."

Tweek laughed heartily, then stopped for a second as if struck by a sudden thought. He looked at his hands, no longer shaking. “Uh…”
Craig looked at him curiously. “What?”
Tweek looked up at him, finding himself smiling. “Nothing it's just- Uhm… I just calmed down. Like, totally.”
He took a deep breath without looking away from him or losing his smile, as if to prove that he had just realised he was in complete control of the situation. Craig wondered how long this fact alone hadn't been a normal thing for the other.

“You… just made me calm down.”

Oh, and that was really weird. Because something was definitely happening right now in Craig's stomach, or in his chest, he wasn't sure, and maybe that was scary too. Was Tweek free from anxiety because he had inadvertently passed it on to him? But Craig didn't feel agitated in the way Tweek described: as much as it was an alien situation to the child, he knew logically that it was not comparable to everything Tweek had talked about, let alone as bad.
But it was still a different situation, and Craig was beginning to dislike it.

Just then the doors opened and Tweek just had time to pull Craig towards him before the horde of children ready for recess knocked him out. Despite the rush, three girls and a teacher, seeing them sitting together, Tweek's hand still clutching Craig's wrist, gave him money before walking off to their business. Without, as usual, any reason.
They counted out $35.

“Sweet.”
“We're- nth! Pretty fucking good at this shit, Jesus!”

They were indeed, pretty fucking good at that shit.

╡╬╞

From the day after they began to take really seriously their plan and, although Tweek was always the one with the most ideas and the best inventiveness, even Craig felt satisfied with the play they were putting on.

In fact, the next morning Tweek had surprised everyone by being at the bus stop in front of the school, watching the children go out until he found Craig among them, greeting him at full volume, with his thermos in his hand, and immediately approaching to take his hand.
A crowd of girls had surrounded them and Craig had noticed a few boys in the group, including Clyde, reaching into their wallets and holding out a bill.

They had done that every day since then, and averaged $27 in revenue each morning. Not bad for only being 8:18 a.m.

That same first day Craig had offered to walk him to class for all the lessons, to which Tweek had replied that it was a great idea, but that they'd better do it a little one by one, depending on distances and the next destination. Craig had watched him take another sip of his coffee as a particularly invasive eye-twitch prevented him from aiming properly. He thought Tweek walking him to class made less sense than him walking the blond, but that same morning Tweek seemed more frustrated than usual with a long shift at the coffee shop weighing him down and something told by his dad that had upsetted him, so Craig had established it wasn't worth discussing: he had never had the heart of a fighter after all.
That little gimmick alone had netted them an average of $84 a day, split across the day's exchange rates.

Tweek had also once stared at Butters, sitting in the park next to Craig, so hard that almost everyone had started to look at the two, at which even the little Stotch had become aware of the situation.
“Oh, hamburgers. Do you wanna sit beside your boyfriend, Tweek? Take my spot, buddy!”
$10 dollars from two passing teenage girls, + another $25 from a group who had heard of the act via gossiping.

Tweek had brought him a soda as he passed the vending machines.
$15

Craig had caught Tweek before he could crash to the floor during gym, only lesson the two classes of fourth graders still shared together.
$25

One morning just three days after starting, Tweak proudly showed off his new bicycle at the bus stop: blue, as he had said he had wanted for a long time. And he had been so happy when Craig had complimented it that he had hugged him in front of everyone who, by now, stopped on purpose to watch the gay kids greet each other in the morning. Screams, shouts, tears and some stolen photos were quite a good result.
$215 total, including money PC Principal and some parents left him as soon as the news broke.

As they conspired to estimate how much money they had taken just that day Craig was lost for a second watching his friend approach him to whisper something in a low voice. He had squeezed his hand in his without thinking about it.
“This is fun.”
Tweek had met his eyes with a grin. "Yeah man! We're fucking good at this!”

╡╬╞

“They want- nghhh! They want you at dinner.”

Craig shifted his gaze towards the other, surprised by that sentence that apparently came out of nowhere. Tweek had been looking for something in his locker for a few minutes and Craig had let him do it without saying a word: that was one of those mornings in which what could be considered the other side of Tweek appeared. That day he had greeted Craig rigidly, taking his hand at the bus stop without saying a word, and then dragging him around the corridors of the school without even stopping to speak to any group. Sometimes he was just like that, Craig had noticed; there were days when Tweek simply changed his attitude completely, not chatting about whatever was on his mind, but instead pausing to stare straight ahead, thinking who knows what with a grim expression on his face. Craig, hanging on to him, couldn't help but notice that those were also the days when the kid seemed to be shaking and jittering more than usual, even his usual.

“Who.”
“My parents, Craig. They want you ff-- fuck- for dinner. Tonight.”
"Oh." Craig tried to think of his last interaction with the Tweaks, but nothing came to mind.

“Isn't tonight too soon? I need to at least tell my mom about it first.”
The dark-haired boy observed the other's eyes widen; he clapped his hands to his face in horror. “I knew it! I told them they couldn't possibly decide it and expect you to come in the same day but they never- aaaahk! They never listen to me! Oh man! They're gonna say it's my fault, Jesus! They'll try to nghhh-! Fucking force me to quit boxing again!”
“Tweek!” Craig grabbed the other's hands, untangling the blond locks before he could pull them hard enough to hurt himself. He didn't leave him time to answer, looking him straight in the eyes, trying to show him how sure he was of his words. “I'm sure they're gonna be okay with it.”

“But…!”
“I'm gonna walk to my house after school, …ask them immediately, …and so no one will get mad at anyone. How's that.” He talked slowly, as if trying everything to get his words into the blond's head as clearly as possible. He wasn't sure Tweek was going to be a fan of that, but he didn't exactly seem willing to hear it from the time being.
“And- Oh God, and what happens if they say no? My parents are-! Aaahk! Are fucking idiots! They don't care how impractical something is! They don't care if I'm right! Nghhh! They're gonna find a way to-”

“And if my parents say no I'll just sneak out. I don't care.”
Tweek stopped for a second, looking at him in surprise. “You would-?”
“Totally.”

“But… won't-nnt…! Won't your parents get really pissed off at you if you disobey?”
“I don't care.”

"Oh." commented the blond with a reassured smile.

“You boxe?” Craig asked, picking up on what surprised him the most about Tweek's speech.
"Oh! Yeah!” the blond seemed to light up at the thought.
“Everytime I have a spare afternoon! Ngh- I love it there.”

“So you, like, punch stuff?”
“I punch people!”
“You do?!” Craig asked with sudden glee, enough to startle Tweek, who flinched away for a second before pulling himself together.

“You don't seem like the kind.” he, so, commented, to which in response he only received a hard elbow bump between his ribs, halfway between playful and serious.
“If you had my parents you'd- You'd want to punch people in the face all the time, too”

He closed his locker, pulling his backpack back on and started walking, Craig stuck by his side, taking his hand once again. “We fought last year.”
Tweek didn't repress the smug smile. “That was fun.”
Craig looked at him confused "Fun? We both got tricked to the hospital for the stupidest bet on this planet.” At those words Tweek's smile only widened again, looking at the oher kid with a strange light in his eyes. “That's when I started boxing. The- ngh! The guys introduced me to it.”

“How come your parents hardly let you come out and play but are ok with you attending it?”

Tweek stiffened beside him, and Craig suddenly felt guilty for obviously asking an inappropriate question, for whatever reason.
“Well- Before we started our deal, since I'm gay and all now, the school kind of payed me whenever I skipped a class to go there. And before that… When I had to use just my free time… someone had to convince my parents.”

"Uh?"
Tweek quickened his pace. “We better hurry, don't- ngh! Don't wanna end up late.”
Craig, as usual, didn't struggle to end the conversation, in the end a nature can't be changed and he had always been a child like that; yet he didn't miss the feeling of curiosity that accompanied him to class as it had never happened before.

╡╬╞

In the end, running away from home wasn’t necessary; Laura, just hearing her little son asking to spend the evening at the house of one of his classmates, his boyfriend from school furthermore , had immediately accepted the invitation with pleasure. In fact, she was relieved that there were other children besides Clyde Donovan who invited her child to their house without it being a group invitation extended to everyone.
Sometimes being the mother of a boy so young yet already so reserved and quiet could be stressful.

“They could have asked a little earlier, though.” Thomas had commented, to which the blonde woman had silenced him with a light nudge.

“They wanna be the first one to see them smooch.” insisted Tricia for the second time that day, her face still buried in her brother's old ds.
“Gross.” the kid in question commented, approaching the sister and snatching the console from her hands. “Don't touch my stuff.”
“Mom! Craig is refusing to share!”
“Craig! You don't need it while staying with your boyfriend. Let her have her time with the game!”
“But it's mine.” commented bitterly, while his mother took it from his hands to give it to her again.
Craig flipped them all off.

There were no further problems until 7 p.m., and Thomas went up the stairs to call his daughter to dinner, stopping then in Craig's room.

“If you need a lift you need to speak up, boy. I ain't gonna get up mid-dinner because you end up being late.”
Craig nodded. “I'm gonna walk.”
Thomas looked at him. “You sure? At what time do those guys even eat?”

“Dunno.”
“That boy didn't even leave you a time? What organisation is this?”
Craig stayed silent.

“Oi, Craig. Why don't you text your boyfriend to tell you a time and grab something to eat with us while you wait?”
Craig wanted to say yes at that moment. He was used to always eat at the same time, now time, and while it was also his fault for not having thought of it sooner, Tweek hadn't written him anything since they'd said goodbye at the end of class that afternoon, so the responsibility wasn't his in the end.

However.

However, Tweek had seemed tense at the idea of having him over for dinner at his house, or rather, at the idea of possibly not having him, failing his task and thereby angering his parents. The Tweaks had struck Craig as nothing but weirdos up to that point, but suddenly the idea of causing his friend trouble by showing up to dinner with a full stomach seemed out of the question.
"No. Don't wanna upset Tweek.”

Thomas sighed. “Is it okay if I call the Tweaks, though? To know when we're supposed to let you come to their house?”
Craig nodded again. That could work.
“Alright, then.” Thomas sighed, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. The situation was already starting to bore Craig, who now more than ever wanted to finish the Terrance and Phillip comic he had bought that day before returning home. He had gotten to a funny point and wanted to see how it would end.

After a few seconds of waiting, they finally answered. “Hi, yes. I'm Thomas, Thomas Tucker.”
A pause.

“Ye- alright. Craig here was supposed to come for dinner, right? Is your wife at home or-”
Another pause. Thomas made a strange expression, as if bittered, Craig could not understand it.

“The boy too?”
Craig eyed his father expectantly. He saw him sigh again.
“And when am I supposed to drop him off for dinner? When do you close?”
Craig looked at him surprised. "I said I was gonna walk." Plan changes had never been his thing.
Thomas in response put a hand on his hat, Craig had never understood what that gesture meant, but had let him do that while he ended the call.

“I understand. Bye.”
That greeting seemed rather resentful.

“Come take a bite at the table, son. They're gonna have dinner at fucking 10.30 p.m.”
“That's weird.” commented . “Why?”
“Family business comes first, as he said. Now c'mon.”
His father tried to walk him downstairs, but Craig found himself digging in his heels, still thinking about Tweek's worried face that morning.

“I wanna wait.”
Thomas looked at him in surprise. “You're hungry, though.”
"No, I'm not." he found himself blatantly lying, keeping a neutral expression on his face. And, almost as if to punish him for his own lie, his stomach didn't take a second to make itself heard, gurgling at full volume.

His father stared at him.
“Yeah, I see how it is. Your little boyfriend won't get mad if you eat something, y'know?”
Craig looked up at his father, considering options.

“I wanna wait.”

Thomas sighed once again in that brief interaction. “Alright, alright. Jeez, this is some commitment. But I'll take you and I'll also pick you up. And I don't want to argue about that, even picking you up right after their idea of dinner would still be too late for you to walk home alone. Do you understand?”
Craig nodded in agreement.

And so it was 10.30 p.m., and Craig was starving. Thomas left him in front of the Tweaks' house, in a mood as black as his son’s.
“If anything happens, you call and I arrive. Understood?” Craig nodded silently.

“Alright.”
And that was all.

As soon as the bell rang, the first thing that reached the child's ears was Tweek, who demanded so loudly that he could be heard from the front door.
“Stay back, I'm going!!”
Nonetheless, a second later the door swung open and, contrary to the blond’s wish, Craig found himself face to face with his father.

“Oh my. Hello Craig!”
He so didn't like Tweek's father.

“Goddammit!” Tweek burst out again, placing himself between the two and fluidly taking Craig's hand in his. “We're waiting upstairs in my room until dinner's ready.”
And the kid had already started walking in the opposite direction to his parents when Richard cackled.
“But it's already ready, son! No need to hurry much. You've got plenty of time to share with your gay boyfriend after having eaten all together!”
Tweek stopped, so did Craig at his side. He watched him take long breaths, as he had seen him do so many times to try and calm himself.
“Why don't you sit here, boys? I'm gonna go help in the kitchen.” The adult invited them again before walking away, not caring in the least about the attitude of his son, who took another long breath, before sitting down on the sofa, letting go of the other's hand.

“I can't- Aaahk! Can't stand him when he uses that voice.” he commented. Craig sat next to him. “It's his normal tone, though.” the other pointed out, Tweek slouched on the sofa with a resigned air. “I know.”

“Why do you eat this late?”

Tweek sat up suddenly with all the look of someone who had just realised his mistake. “You weren't expecting to come this late, did you?”
Craig just had time to deny with his head that Tweek had already started talking to himself again.
“I'm so stupid! I forgot to specify a- aaahk! A time! Normal people eat at fucking 7 p.m. here, maybe 8! Oh, Jesus!I'mso- nghh! Sososososo sorry!”
Craig watched him, reaching his hair with his hands to remind him not to pull it when he was lost in thoughts. “I don't mind.”
Tweek took his hands off his head, Craig did the same.

“Why do you eat this late, though?”
“I work, man. My stupid family always eat this late because we're -nghhh! We're all working at the shop until it's time to close it at 10 p.m.-…!”

"Oh."
Craig already knew Tweek worked with his parents. So why now that it was mentioned again did it suddenly bother him? It didn't make sense, he perfectly remembered not giving a fuck about it before, so what had changed?
What was different?

“But you came anyway, uh…" he heard him mumble.

"...Thank you, Craig.”
He looked at Tweek's face again, and found himself thinking that his eyes were insanely large. The same sensation of that day on the stairs behind the school enveloped him, making him feel a sudden urge to vomit.

With a snap he looked away in confusion.

And, for the first time, Craig was glad to see the Tweaks approaching, because they cut off whatever was going on, allowing him to get up and walk away from his friend without looking awkward.

They sat down at the table and Craig eyed the turkey steaks with potatoes and green beans with interest. He felt all over again how starved he was feeling. Tweek leaned over to his seat and wordlessly placed in front of him a plastic bottle of water that Craig recognized as one from the school vending machines. At the other's inquiring gaze, Tweek explained himself with a slightly embarrassed smile. “You don't drink coffee, right? I bought- ngh- I bought it for you.”
“Now, sweetie, gifts are always a pleasure but it's really ruining the harmony of the table.”
At Tweek's mother's comment, Craig looked away from the blond, noticing that there was nothing on the table but a pitcher of coffee, matching the plates, glasses, and cutlery.

“Mom! I told you he- gh! He never fucking drinks coffee, Jesus!”
“Language, kiddo.”
Tweek looked bitterly at his portion of food, his eye twitching. “Never f—- Jesus. Never listen to me.”
Craig silently gave the middle finger to the adult, too engrossed in his plate to notice. He looked at his friend, almost hoping he had seen him, instead finding him still busy with his plate. He wanted to find something to say to him, but he also had no idea what, so the matter seemed to end, and the Tweaks started eating, which arose for Craig a big, giant new problem.

The prayer.

Richard looked at his wife with a smile, complimenting the meal, receiving a flirtatious laugh in return.
Craig looked around silently, feeling lost.

At dinner he always prayed before eating. It could be skipped at school because nobody gave a shit, but at home his mother demanded it, so it was a rule Craig had always followed.
He figured they'd just forgotten about it, but when no one pointed out the obvious omission Craig considered the bizarre possibility that the Tweaks just didn't give a shit about Hell and didn't waste time praying when they already had food on their plates.
How cool.

Craig picked up the fork with satisfaction, but before he could stick it into a piece of meat he found himself stuck with second thoughts.

Oh, fuck. This was wrong.

He'd never skipped prayer at dinner in his life, and the idea of not doing it now, even though his mother wasn't there to force him, even though he was starving, was starting to make him nervous. The changes, it was always these sudden changes that got him all bothered. Craig would be sooo happy if he was cool like Tweek, who apparently didn't give a fuck about prayers before dinner.
He resigned himself, mentally reciting it, as fast as he could, remembering what his father and mother said by heart. Then, finally, he brought his first bite to his mouth with satisfaction.

“So Craig, you like what my wife did for you this evening?” Richard asked.
He just nodded disinterestedly, now finally taken by his well-awaited meal.

“You hear him honey? Your beautiful work left our son's homosexual boyfriend speechless.”
Mr. Tweak laughed still. “Oh my. Thank you Craig.”
The boy would have rolled his eyes if he hadn't been taken immediately by the croaking voice of the blond beside him. “Let's- ahk! Let's eat in silence, Christ-nggh! You're sounding weird again.”
“Oh, sweety, don't drag Craig into your problems. You know you feel uncomfortable just because you're a little weird.” commented with a gentle smile, making Richard laugh heartily, sitting at the table by her side.
Tweek stuck a potato with his fork in silence, Craig watched in confusion. 
What the actual fuck.

Why wasn't Tweek answering? He'd never been a kid looking for trouble, but neither had he been a pussy like Butters who let everyone step all over him without complaining. Craig vividly remembered the at-the-time third grader agreeing to a fight with him after being convinced Craig was preparing to kick his ass. And he remembered the kid suddenly stopping hanging out with Stan's group, bluntly complaining about how stressful it was to be around them and that he had no intention of becoming the god of any undersea civilization again, whatever that meant.
And the boy beside him now, who glared at his plate angrily, clutching his cutlery in trembling fingers and letting his parents talk on and on, seemed nothing more than a pale imitation of the Tweek he always saw at school.
And, observing him, Craig was surprised to notice only at that moment that there was meat on Tweek's plate too, and that the blond was limiting himself to nibbling on the surrounding vegetables, without starting controversy of any kind.
The more time passed, the more Craig found new reasons to dislike Mr. and Mrs. Tweak.

“Now Craig. How was school today?” Richard spoke again, not at all shaken by the silence that had fallen on the table from their last hilarious banter.
Craig brought a new bite to his lips. "Fine."
“Oh, that's great, isn't it? Children should always appreciate their time at school.”
The boy stared at him in silence, bored out of his mind by his idle conversations. The man didn't seem at all disturbed by the thing, if he was even aware of it.

“And, tell me, Craig. What did you do in the afternoon?”
Jesus Christ.

“I watched Red Racers.”
“Uh? Never heard of it. And how's your family?”
“They're fine.”
"And-" He tried again to ask, before being interrupted by a stressed complaint from his son.
“Let him eat, dad! What's with all these questions?”

“Now, baby. Don't interrupt other people talking. We were having a nice conversation.”
“Conversation? You were interrogating him! Ahh- Fuck!”
The mother picked up the pitcher of coffee, refilling Tweek's mug. “Drink your coffee, sweetie. You're causing a scene.”
“I'm not causing-!”
“And, say Craig, what are your plans for the weekend?” his father spoke over him, still in that cordial tone. Craig watched Tweek take a breath before bringing a bean to his mouth and starting to stare back at his plate resentfully once again.

“Craig?”
He looked at Richard Tweak, taking his eyes off the figure of the blond.
“Friday we have Clyde's birthday.”
“Oh, that's a pity.”
“Excuse me.”
“You see, we wanted to invite you to stay with us all day after school Friday. We would have had so much fun.”
Thank you, Clyde.
“Dad! I told you already you can't invite other people's- nghhh- kids to work for you!”
What the hell.
“It’s not about working, Tweek: spending time with your family is very important! You should be grateful we care so much about quality time with you.”
Did he just call Craig a part of his family?
"Quali- !"
“Drink your coffee, love.” his mother invited him once more, bringing the mug to his mouth. Tweek snatched it from her hands, drinking as requested.

“Good kid. You know what the therapist said about arguing in the household.”
Tweek gulped, starting to cough the coffee off his mouth.

“Oh my…”

Craig leaned over in an attempt to pat his back but before he could Tweek's hand grabbed his arm, pushing himself to his feet.
“We're going upstairs now.”
And Craig didn't even have time to say anything when Tweek was already dragging him away from the table.
“Don't close the door of your room, okay?” Richard yelled after him mockingly, which his son didn't listen to, slamming the door behind him as soon as he'd ushered Craig into his room too.

He dropped to the floor, his back against the door. He was shaking again, several distressing noises slipping from his lips.
“Dude, I wasn't done eating.” Craig half-heartedly complained as he watched his friend, who was putting his hands to his hair without saying anything, hiding his face between his legs.

He looked around for a second: Tweek's room was a mess, with toys scattered everywhere around the disastrous desk and unmade bed, very different from Craig's well-ordered bedroom. But it kind of screamed who the owner was, with all that cool stuff.

He sat next to him.
“Your parents are assholes.”
Tweek didn't answer, Craig felt his concern rise.
“Oi…” He touched a shoulder to get his attention, but the gesture made Tweek dodge with a jerk.

The blond looked up, shaken by a sudden rush of anger.
“You can't tell anyone.”

“Uh.”
“The- nghhh! The therapist. You didn't hear it. It didn't- aaak-! Shit! Didn't fucking happen alright?!”

“… Okay.”
“Swear!”
"Huh?"
“You need to swear you neverfucking-nghhh! You'll never tell anyone! If the guys find out I go to a- gggggh- SHIT! To a fucking shrink- My life, God, my life'd be over!”
“I don't care if you have a therapist, Tweek.”
“Swear!!”
“Jesus, I swear.” Craig agreed, but Tweek continued to eye him with scepticism.

“Swear on something important.”
“The fuck.”
Tweek came suddenly close. “You need to take something important ontheline for it to count, man.”

“Really?” Craig asked resignedly, not believing his own ears.
“Alright.” He finally sighed.
He brought a hand to his chest solemnly. “I promise, on Stripe, my guinea pig, that I will never tell anyone that Tweek Tweak has a therapist.” he proclaimed earnestly.
“Especially because I don't give a fuck.”
Tweek nudged him in amusement.
“Asshole.”
Craig gave him the middle finger, a smile on his face.

Tweek seemed to settle down completely, sitting more comfortably even though they were both still on the floor.
“What do you wanna do now?”

Craig thought for a second. “What time is it? I think my favourite documentary is still on.”
“Documentary?” Tweek asked, surprised.
“It's cool. It's about space.” he explained, but remembering the faces of his friends when he had proposed to watch it together he stepped back. “We don't have to, though. If you think it's boring.”
“I love documentaries, dude!”

Craig's eyes widened. “You do?”
“Yeah!” Tweek replied impetuously, letting a tic slip out of his control, without caring about it. “I watch tons of those when I can't sleep!!”
Something bloomed in Craig's small chest.

“You'll watch my space documentary with me?”
Tweek smiled at him, getting up to get the computer.

He moved to the bed, hastily pulling the blanket over the sheet and sitting down on it, slapping his hand softly beside him to signal him to sit down.
“I don't- Uh— I don't have a tv in my room, so the laptop is okay, right? We can watch it from the tv channel's site!”
Craig just nodded, sitting down next to him happily.
Tweek wanted to watch a space documentary with him.

“...Your laptop is fucked up. I can barely see between the cracks.”
“Uhhh! Shut up and watch, dude!”
“...I can lend you mine sometimes, if you want.”
“Oh.” Tweek looked back at him for a second, turning then to his broken pc in awe. “Thanks, man...”
Craig watched him smile and relax by his side while the video started to play.
He felt… really satisfied, for whatever reason.

And so the next half an hour passed, with the two children taken by the narrator's voice as they ranged between the nebulas and the life cycle of the stars.
Craig didn't even know what time it was, but he was starting to feel tired, probably a sign that it was almost the time he usually went to sleep; yet Craig hoped the evening could never end.
But sooner or later it had to happen.

Craig's cell phone rang, and he never hated the sound more while he picked up.

“Hey, dad.”
Tweek looked at him silently, pausing the video. 

“We're done. …Yes. …Okay.”
He put it down with disappointment. “Dad's coming. Says it's too late now.”
Tweek looked at him in confusion. “It's just 11.30 p.m.”
“Yeah, I normally sleep at this hour.”
"Oh."

Tweek paused, looking down. “Wanted to show you my pianola.”
Oh, Craig really wanted to see it now.
“We still have time.”

He looked at him doubtfully. “You sure?”
“Alright!” He leapt to his feet without waiting for an answer, looking around the clutter of his room for the instrument. He found it, abandoned in a corner.

“Here!”
He flung himself back to his side, accidentally jostling him with emphasis.
Craig didn't mind.

“So- This is it. uhm- This is just a normal one, y'know. But if you press this button all the notes change and start playing an animal cries for each note!”
“Does one whistle?” asked Craig eagerly.

“Like a parrot?”
“Like a guinea pig!”
“Guinea pig whistles?”
Craig nodded. “Stripe whistles when it's happy or wants more food. It's the best sound in the whooole world.”
Tweek laughed, starting to click each sound, looking for the whistle. They ended up playing with it, forgetting all about their task when they heard the front doorbell ring. They looked at each other in silence.

“Uh…”
“My dad.”
"Yeah..."

Tweek got to his feet, Craig reluctantly followed, leaving the pianola on the bed.

“You- Uh- …I'll come down with you.”
Craig just nodded, following him out the door in silence.

Halfway up the stairs Tweek stopped, whirled to him.
“I wanna teach you a song! Choose one!”

"Uh?"
“To- uuuuh- To play on the pianola! Choose a song, man, so I can practise and then teach you it- ngh! Next… next time.”

"Oh." Craig thought about it seriously.
Next time.

“Craig…!” His father called from the hall.
The two ran down the stairs in a hurry, as fast as was Thomas Tucker’s desire to pick up his elementary school son and take him home to sleep.
Before going through the door, however, an epiphany occurred to Craig.
“The Red Racers opening of season one!” he said impetuously to the other.
At that Tweek smiled at him, nodding happily before closing the front door.

As they drove home, Craig got a notification.

“So, how did it go, kiddo?”

Tweek had sent him a link to a YouTube video.
THS 1?

Craig smiled as he stared blissfully at his cellphone without looking up. “It was nice.”

╡╬╞

There was one thing he'd noticed watching the Tweaks talk to each other that hadn't made him want to immediately throw up, but he still hadn't had the courage to put it into practice even though he was 90% sure it would be a success.
But the money was starting to dwindle as the weeks progressed, so now was strategically the perfect time to attack and remind the school how disgustingly in love they were. Exactly as Tweek's parents had seemed, as well as vile sons of bitches: devoted in the lamest way possible to each other.
And so Tweek, still unaware of the plan, had finally exited his classroom after patiently waiting for everyone else to leave to avoid the crowds of fanatics for the start of the weekend.

The blond smiled at him calmly.
“Hey, man.”Craig took a preparatory breath in.

“How was your day, honey?”
Tweek stiffened before him, shocked and incredulous; anyone within hearing range did the same.
Craig looked down and felt himself burn with embarrassment as everyone crowded around them in elation. He distinctly heard a female scream of pure joy.

“You called him honey!”
“You two are so in love!!”
“They are on pet name base now???”
The teacher, the only one left in class after Tweek, made herself room in the crowd, extending a $100 bill which she left candidly in the child's hand.
“I'm so proud, boys. We should all support a young love so pure!”

Tweek eyed the bill in his friend's hand with his mouth wide open, just as Craig was doing.

He could buy a whole Luna Park for Stripe.
That new Rad Racers action figure.
Two tickets to fucking Disneyland for himself and Tweek!

He felt the aforementioned boy take his hand, looking at him with such warmth in gaze and gesture that Craig had to remember Tweek was indeed a great actor.
“My day went amazingly, actually.”

They managed with difficulty to free themselves from the crowd, reaching, amid Tweek's lamentations for not preparing him for his idea, Clyde, Jimmy and Tolkien, who were waiting for them outside the school.

“Finally!” Clyde complained immediately.
“What took you so long? Seriously.”
“N-Now Tolkien, never ask that to a couple. You w- wuh- won't like the answer.”

“Gross.” Craig commented dryly, still holding Tweek's hand tightly in his own, who only trembled at his side.
“I don't care about them! This is my birthday and I wanna spend it splashing around in Tolkien's big pool and eating my cake! Let's go now!” 

They followed the birthday boy, getting lost in quiet chatter. Only Tweek didn't seem in shape to utter some word out.
"You okay?" Craig asked him.
“Nervous.”
Anxiety was not something to be underestimated; Tweek knew it perfectly and even Craig was beginning to recognize it by the now daily closeness with the blond, so he looked towards his friends a little further on, still intent on talking. 

“It'll be nice, I promise.”
He didn't know what was stressing Tweek about the situation, but it seemed his answer was accepted and welcomed, because the blond beside him thanked him with a handshake, appearing more confident.

Arrived in Tolkien's garden, the homeowner just had time to order everyone to take off their shoes that Clyde was already diving into his friend's large pool, throwing clothes around as he ran.
But what could the poor fellow do otherwise? On his birthday too. What could be expected from a 10-year-old boy who found himself in front of a super-equipped swimming pool on a day of celebration if not to go crazy?
And, that afternoon, at Tolkien's house there were 5 fourth graders who had been waiting for nothing else all week, so it didn't take long for the remaining 4 to run in their swimsuits towards the water and follow the example of the birthday boy.

Following a gruelling battle with Tolkien’s soccer ball, Craig walked away from the group to get something to eat from the table of delights that Mrs. and Mr. Black and Clyde's father had prepared for them.
He picked up a simple slice of pizza, quite dubious of the amount of never-before-seen things laid out in front of him: obviously a sign of the Black touch, who were always importing new ideas from overseas as they were a wealthy married couple, and that is what people of the kind did.
Nice and boring. This way, any possible risk could be avoided, such as being poisoned by unknown food.
God, he was sounding just like Tweek.

Craig took a bite of the slice, turning back to the others, all still in the water.
Clyde was trying awkwardly to enter the same swim-ring that Jimmy was using to stay afloat, trying with difficulty to dive and resurface at the exact point to enter the hole next to his friend. But every time he plunged Tweek and Tolkien moved the friend to another side, so as to make all the attempts of the birthday-boy in vain, who was starting to run out of breath.
Craig's gaze stopped on Tweek, noticing him laughing, amused at the complicity created by the joke, and found himself thinking that all this just seemed right.

Seeing Tweek having fun in the midst of his group made him feel as if they'd had a lack all along that had finally been filled. As if, all this time, Tweek had been nothing more than the missing piece of their group: not like Stan, Kyle, Cartman, Kenny, or even Butters or Scott Malkinson, who were always with them, but were also a thing apart from. It was different with Tweek, it had been when they became a metrosexual group and it still is now. He had just always belonged with them.

“Craig, come here! How come you never told me your boyfriend can bake sweets?!” Clyde called him back, turning then to the blond.
“You have to promise me you're gonna bake me something for my next birthday!”
Tweek seemed to panic at the sudden responsibility.
“But-aak! What if I fuck it up?”
“I'm sure you won't, dude.”
“That's- nghh! That's so much pressure…!”
"It'll be fine," Clyde continued. ”You just said you bake a lot for your parents' bar!”
“Coffee shop.” he quickly corrected.

“What's the difference?”
“Bar people aren't insane like my parents.” Tweek replied, crystal clear as usual when it came to expressing his dislike for his family.
Craig waded back into the water, pushing Clyde away, who was now floating on top of another inflatable as he spoke, to steal his spot between Tweek and Jimmy.

“Dude!” the boy protested, paddling his arms back to the side of the others.
“You were in the way.”
“There were other ways!”
“This one was the shortest.” He justified himself candidly.
“The shortest and the cl- clus- ch-ch-closest to you boyfriend.”
Craig held up his middle finger at Jimmy as Tolkien and Clyde laughed.

“He's probably scared I'm gonna steal all of Tweek's baked goods when the time comes.”
“Aargh!” the boy in question complained, reminded once again about the pressure of having to cook for them.
“Just wait until you look like Cartman. That's gonna be hilarious."
“I'll never look like Cartman, goddammit…!”
“Hey! He already sounds like him!” Tolkien added, making the others laugh.
“Fuck you guys!”

The party went on until the few hours of warm sunshine wore off and the normal cold of a mountain town like South Park set in.
It was therefore decided it was time to hole up in the warmth of Tolkien's room for a tournament at the new video game that Tolkien had gifted to Clyde.
“How do you not get goosebumps?” Tolkien asked, observing Tweek's arms, uncovered given that he was the only one left to opt for the shirt only, without seeking shelter behind a towel.

Tweek, accustomed to such questions, only shrugged.
“He goes around without a jacket all year straight, what did you expect.” Clyde reminded. “Snow probably never bothered him in his life. Lucky!”
Craig joined him as they followed the group into the house. "You'll probably get sick like this."
Tweek shivered, clearly not from cold. He looked at him suspiciously. "Are you trying to bring me bad luck?"

“It's not bad luck. It's cold."
“You sound like Mr. Mackey.” Tweek gritted his teeth against, with a quick muscle spasm. “Besides, it's April.”
April in Colorado, he thought of replying, but was beaten in time by Tweek who, as soon as he passed the entrance to the Blacks' living room, emitted a sonorous verse, halfway between astonishment and disgust.
Craig looked up where Tweek's eyes had stopped, slightly wishing he did not since what he found was a fanart of the two of them right above the expensive fireplace, framed behind glass like a painting.
Tolkien sighed as he watched his friends' reactions. “Yes. Not a fan of you guys hanging where my family portrait used to be, but at least you both have all your clothes on this one.”

Dear fucking God. He thought horrified.
“Jesus- ahk! Fucking Christ.” openly commented the blond beside him.

Trying to forget the questioning home decor taste of the Blacks, Craig followed the others up the stairs, when he felt a light tug on his shoulder, turning in time to see Tweek's face a inch from his, leaning over his ear and whispering to him with secrecy.

“They always do that, did you notice? Gah! In most of those drawings I'm visibly shorter and… nghhhh- rounder than you.”
Craig looked at him for a second, knowing exactly what he meant.

“It's normal. You're the female, dude.”
Tweek froze for a second, as if he was still processing what he'd just been told so frankly.

He looked at him in disbelief. “What?”

“The emotional one.” Craig tried to explain, also attempting a step forward up the stairs. A total failure: Tweek grabbed him by the shoulder, as he had done before, but with much more strength and much less complicity on his face. In fact, he was eyeing him with a disturbed grimace.
“Oh fuck that, ghh-! I'm a man too. …If we're not both men how can we even fake being gay, uh!? There are tons of fanarts of you as the female, anyway, Craig!”

The other limited himself to raising an eyebrow, almost amused. “Yes, but those picture us way out of character. It doesn't really count, Tweek.”
“Out of- Dude! They picture us kissing and doing even other stuff! Ngh-! They're all out of character!”
Craig looked quickly up the stairs again, tensely, mimicking Tweek to be quiet. “Lower your voice or they're gonna hear us…!” he whispered to him.

And perhaps he only started to figure out at that moment that the situation was worse than he thought, when Tweek didn't even listen to him, continuing his speech at full volume.
“Do I look like a girl to you, man? Do you think what I do in my free time is hanging out with girls, doing make up and stuff?! Is that it?!”
Craig broke into a cold sweat, glancing in confusion between the angry blond and the end of the stairs from where his friends had disappeared. What if they heard? If Tweek and he weren't going up the stairs now they’ll certainly come down to check.
“I'm just saying I'm the one who wears the pants, so you end up being the feminine one but it doesn't mean you're a girl literally…!” He tried to explain himself, more and more in a low voice.
In response, Tweek shoved him against the wall. Not enough to throw him off balance, but enough to hurt him.
“And who the fuck decided that?!”
Craig began to get impatient. “It's just natural, calm down!”
“Don't tell me to calm down!” he yelled at him, and it was impossible that the others hadn't heard them at that point, so no one could really be surprised if within a second three heads were facing the stairs, watching from above.

“What is happening?”
“Are you guys fighting?”
“At my birthday??”

But Craig barely heard them, and how could he with the way Tweek was looking at him now?

“...Fuck this.”
Tweek ran down the stairs, leaving behind an incredulous Craig and equally bewildered others.
“Happy fucking birthday, Clyde or whatever.” he murmured succinctly, before slamming the front door behind him.

“W- wuh- well… that was one hell of an outing, even for a g-gay man.”

“Dude, what happened?”
Craig held up his middle finger. “...Burn that fucking drawing, Tolkien.”

╡╬╞

When the school bus arrived at its last stop the following Monday, Craig was staring down the street with the worst of feelings, but he said nothing, pretending everything was normal even as the first whispers started all around him.

"He’s not here." Clyde said looking up at his friend, voice filled with concern; you didn't even have to turn to return the look to know what expression of pity he had stamped on his face.

Craig so remained silent again, going straight towards the school entrance pretending to be deaf to the murmurs of his classmates.
But pretending was still what continued to be, because Craig internally surely felt like going home and not talking to anyone but Stripe, and that was probably the most real feeling he'd had since leaving Clyde's party on Friday afternoon.
Tweek didn't come.

Craig looked around the hallways, striding towards his locker, not even knowing what he was intending to tell him.

Because how the fuck was he supposed to deal with it?
Tweek, stop being a fucking emotional idiot and come take my hand? 

Don't blame me if they see you as the hysterical brat when this is how you act at the smallest hint of provocation?

Tweek, his arm three-quarters thrust into his disaster of a locker, was busy searching for something stressedly, not even caring about the looks he always had on him for the din he made between falling objects and his own badly repressed sounds. He had his problem, his goal, and as usual he paid no attention to the people who observed him; they could think what they wanted, Tweek didn't even notice them most of the time.
Seeing him, Craig felt a fresh rush of frustration wash over him, because this was one thing about Tweek Tweak he didn't quite understand yet, and Craig hated feeling stupid and unprepared.

Because why, if Tweek absolutely didn't give a shit about other people's opinions, too busy as he was with his own imaginary anxieties and his own business, why should it be different with him?
Why had Tweek chosen the very one topic that would dent their routine in order to take it out on him and suddenly worry about how others thought of him? 
Why was being thought of as a lunatic okay, but being thought of as more feminine in proportion to Craig was not?

You stupid imbecille, you megalomaniac! You should have been at our bus stop.

Tweek seemed to notice his presence, rolling his insanely large eyes at Craig, letting out first a yelp of surprise, then a howl of indignation.
“And what do you want?”

And Craig could have said so many things.
He could have apologised, even if he didn't feel he had made any mistakes, he could have tried to open a dialogue, perhaps insult him, remind him that they had already lost about $27. To blame him for affecting their comfortable routine with his emotions.
But he was Craig and he was talking to Tweek, after all.

“We were supposed to meet this morning.”

He watched him in silence and in an instant Craig found himself on the ground from a shove.
“What the fuck, dude?!”
“What you were supposed to do is apologise!”
He scrambled to his feet in annoyance, returning the favour by slamming him against the locked cabinets behind him.
"I haven’t done anything!"
Tweek grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him away. "Don't fucking touch me!"
Craig tried to punch him, but Tweek stopped him with his arm, hitting him in the stomach with a knee. Craig forced himself to throw a hard second punch before ducking in pain, a blow that landed this time, hitting Tweek full in the face.
Craig took him by the shoulder, whispering in his ear in an attempt to reason with him.
“Think about the money, Tweek!”
In response he jumped, with the look of someone who had just taken it personally.
Please let him not take it personally.

Tweek pushed him away from him again.
“I don't need you for it! I don't need you for anything, you'll fucking see!”

With that said, Tweek slammed his locker hard, running at full speed towards his classroom.

Craig sighed bitterly, rubbing his aching belly.
He took it personally.

From that moment Tweek spent the entire day avoiding him and, if that wasn’t already enough, a girl he had never talked to before approached him with concern to ask him if they had broken up. Craig decided that instant that was enough. Fuck this school, fuck the Asian girls, fuck being gay and, most of all, fuck Tweek!
Craig would have avoided him too, he was finally free, right? Let them cry, he was sick of being a babysitter for everyone. 

However, this new stance of his disappeared as quickly as it appeared: two hours without Tweek and Craig had realised that the hole he felt next to him was anything but negligible. Shit, couldn't handle a dinner without prayer comfortably and thought he could enjoy a routine centred around it being shared with a friend without the friend in question?
Craig already felt like he was freaking out from how many times he'd sought Tweek's eye in the hallways or his chat, constantly having to remind himself that they were now fighting.
Broken up. Officially they had broken up.

And things weren't good, they weren't fucking good and he missed Tweek, way more than he expected.

Craig left school that afternoon with that same feeling of lack that had accompanied him all day, looking for the umpteenth time for a hint of blond hair among the heads of his classmates who were leaving, or his half-open backpack in the crowd.
As he sat on the bus, ready to go home with none of the feelings eased, he realised he'd just lost something very precious.
And that made things much more complicated.

╡╬╞

Craig hadn't thought Tweek's words carefully, after all.
If, instead of focusing on the fact that he had failed to convince Tweek to pretend to date him, he had paid more attention to his "you'll fucking see!" of the day before, perhaps he would have found himself more prepared for the hustle and bustle that the blond had managed to create with 24 hours at his disposal.

Apparently Tweek now had a new crush.
Or a new love, as the news had reached his ear from the corridor rumours.

Since the discovery it has been impossible for Craig not to notice the stares at him from friends and acquaintances and he wondered, straightening up in his chair, if at that moment he looked like some kind of heartbroken victim.
He wasn't the heartbroken victim.

When in doubt, he took care to raise as many middle fingers as possible before going to the cafeteria for lunch.
But Craig wasn't willing to let the other one catch him unprepared again. Did he want a war? It was all his business. Craig wouldn't even flinch at whatever he brought out for his lunch break.
After all, without him his idea would never have worked: he would have only made Tweek appear gayer than him, without however making him get even a penny in his pocket, and Craig was ready to enjoy the scene.
So he sat down at his table, as usual, Tweek walked past him with his bizarre and different tray of vegan whatever, stopping to talk at a free table with Francis and Kevin.
Who the fuck talked to fucking Francis and Kevin, anyway.

“Uh- So it's really over between you two.” commented Kyle with pity.
Stan eyed the blond's table with disappointment. "Oh." Craig watched them in silence, then lingering over the black haired boy’s tray, different from everyone else's at the table.
He eyed with sudden displeasure as he noticed that it was the vegetarian option.

“Are you okay?”
Craig looked up at the redhead again, giving him the middle finger.
“We're not together anymore. I don't care."
“Yeah but he was your man and now he's already out there with feelings for someone else. That is so not kewl.” Cartman muttered as he brought some food to his mouth.
Craig flipped him off.
“Ay! Go fuck yourself then!”

“Tweek! Tell me more about your brand new love!”

They all turned to look at the blond's table, where three girls had joined the kids, with the expressions of fascinated infants.

"Oh, you know…" Tweek murmured tensely.

"I've known him for a very short time, of course." attempted as an introduction.
“And…um- I met him at the boxing gym.”

“Ohhhh!” they chorused admiringly.

"Oh! I know a kid in my class who uses that same gym, he must be Tyler McGregor!"
“No!" He squealed in panic. "He's older! AAAhk! Than all of us! He's not in our school so you sure as hell don't know him!"

If he weren't a great actor all this would be comical even in the eyes of others; but Craig was the only one in the room who could read Tweek's face at that moment, because only Craig could imagine that the boy was making up everything as he was going.

“Ohhh…!” continued the three nuisances.
A girl cheered with delight. "A boy older than you, Tweek? You're so brave! Then we'll be rooting for you!"

Oh, wow. Traitors. Craig thought.

Tweek let out a twitch, letting out a short cry of frustration. "T-Thank you…?"

"Tell me, Tweek! What do you like about him?" one of the three asked again.
"You see..." Tweek looked around, suddenly unprepared. "Oh, you know, Jesus Christ-! You know how it works with gay crushes and gay boys... nghh-."
The three nodded in agreement and Craig wondered what the fuck did they understand about that topic whenTweek himself had no idea what he was saying.

“He’s… taller than me, since he’s older and all… NOT BY MUCH! We're almost the same height by the way! He's also very… Neat? I mean! Looks very neat, I'm not sure because I've only known him for so long, right? Right. And… I like how he talks about his cute pet… and his eyes are… I think…-”
For a second the other's tense gaze fell on Craig, but before he could do anything with his eyes finally on him, Tweek turned them back on the girls with a new spark of panic and confusion.
“Gah!” he ran his hands through his blonde locks, frowning. "He doesn't watch Red Racers! In fact, he hates it!"

Seriously? That was just him being a dick.

That day, despite the commotion that had arisen, Tweek didn't seem to receive a cent from his act. Craig wanted to be happy and finally return to their normality after a resounding "I told you so.", but the determined grin that Tweek gave him when their eyes met while he was walking home surrounded by a group of curious girls made him understand that whatever plan he had in mind was certainly not over so soon 

The following couple of days passed with a literal manhunt in action. A bunch of possible candidates went around, but one towered above all the others in noise and importance: Kevin McCormick.
Kenny’s stupid older brother in fact worked as a janitor right in the gym where Tweek practiced boxing, and where he apparently went after their last fight by missing the entire school day, just as he had recounted to do to Craig one time. It seemed so distant to him now, a memory which managed to leave him almost nostalgic, in a way.
Back where things were fucking okay.

He had promised himself that if he couldn't get Tweek back into their order of things, he would simply do as he had been forced to do before: change his routine again, adapting it to the new situation.
But while it had been mentally exhausting getting used to having a person in his routine, taking Tweek out of the equation was proving itself harder, instead of easier, day by day.
And it wasn't fair at all.
Money or no money, Tweek was going about his business, and only Craig seemed to be left shit-faced from the situation, just like they had on their first breakup, when Tweek had gone too far and made him look like a cheater.
Why now that it was Tweek with another guy nobody gave a fuck? Where were the myriad fanarts of cheating Tweek on a date with fucking Michael while Craig was showered with pats on his back?
Not that Craig wanted kind gestures from anyone at his school. Or even one fanart of him crying himself to sleep. It made him turn up his nose at the mere idea, actually.
But where was the justice? Was it possible that a new boy older than them was enough to make people forget who the two elements of the main couple were? That Craig was chosen to be drawn with Tweek, not Kevin Fucking McCormick?

The climax of it all came the following lunch break, when Tweek, busy talking with Butters and Jason (Freaking Jason.), stopped dramatically to talk a short distance from Craig's table.

"You don’t understand! I absolutely have to find a gift for him as soon as possible!” he proclaimed loudly, as if he wanted everyone to hear him. (And he wanted to, because he was a petty piece of shit and Craig couldn't stand him.)

"Oh, what a sweet idea!" Butters commented supportively. That tiny response was all Tweek needed as a springboard to his idea.

"Oh…! But it's way out of my budget! How could I show my face with a shallow gift?”

Craig found himself widening his eyes in shock.
He wouldn't dare.

Tweek took a breath, preparing for his punchline.

“If only… I had enough money to afford what he deserved!"

Hell fell in that hall. At least thirty people leapt to their feet almost frantic, in fact, with their hands already in their wallets.
Tweek was surrounded in a second, so much so that it was difficult to even visualise him immersed in his own offerings.

Craig was suddenly not hungry anymore.

“Oh, man… He really moved on from you, then…Thought you were gonna come back together in the end.” commented sadly Clyde glancing at his friend.
And why should he? Hadn't he just proved he didn't need Craig to make money? 
Now he was certain that they would never go back to pretending to be together.

Craig silently got up from the table, not looking at anyone but striding out of the noisy hall. He feared that someone would think he was running off crying like a coward, but who cared in the end?
The Tweek Show was on, after all! No one would even notice, and maybe that was okay with him.
In time, he'd be totally oka—

“Craig!”
He turned around, surprised to see just a few of the Asian girls who had started all that mess in his life chasing him down the halls. He stopped, giving them all his most heartfelt middle finger in history, making his way around to point the bird at them all in utmost seriousness.
As usual, they didn't even care, going ahead with their intentions.

“我们仍然相信你 !” one yelled at him enthusiastically.
"Uh?"
“포기 하지마!! 우리는!!”
“I have no idea what you are saying.”
“愛する人を取り戻す!”
“여전히 당신을 응원합니다!!”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, fuck you all.”
“TWEEKXCRAIG 终生难忘 !”

Craig stopped before he could walk away, glancing at the last girl who spoke, who still had her fist raised at her own statement.

“Did you just say Tweek?”
They all looked at him with seriousness, another of them stepped forward, taking his hands in hers.

“戦え.” She said while maintaining eye contact.
“Tatakae…?”
“戦え!!!” chorused those whom Craig connected knew the same language as his exchange-classmate.

“How are you all in this school if you can't even understand English?”

In response, each of them handed him a piece of paper from their backpack respectively. Craig took one to figure out what was going on, coming face to face with nothing but a depiction of someone remotely similar to Tweek hand in hand with another guy who was a little too similar to himself.
The others also left their works in his hands, all drawings of him and Tweek together, not a single stupid eldest son of the McCormicks in sight.
He watched them go about their business, looked down again at Tweek's drawn face, which almost seemed, however expressive a drawing could be, to be looking back at him.
He found himself alone, thinking.

╡╬╞

To be sure of being able to speak freely and preventing him from disappearing until he was done, Craig showed up that same day at his parents' coffee shop, when he was sure he was already on duty. He wasn't 100% proud of his strategy, but in love and war all was fair, right?

Even in fake dating.

What he didn't expect was to find only Tweek at the counter, with not a single customer in the room.
At the sound of the door opening, Tweek's head snapped up, as if he hadn't been distractedly minding his own business until then. He let out a cry of surprise.
“You!”

Craig looked around confusedly. “Where are your parents?”
He silently approached the counter, Tweek took a breath in,  not to allow his own tics to get the better of him. He cleared his throat.
"In the back. Since it's calm now they said I can take care of it."

Craig looked around the empty room. “I see.”
Tweek took offense, pounding both fists on the surface between them.
“What the fuck are you doing here?! What do you want?!”

Craig looked at him, his expression completely unreadable.

“How are you doing with your new gay crush?”
Tweek stared at him up and down, offended. “Better than how it's going for you! How much have you earned since we broke up, uh!?”

And that was a part of the new order of things that Craig just couldn't stand. Because Craig hadn't done shit to make money and compete with Tweek. And the truth was, he had no intention of it: all along his goal had been to convince the asshole in front of him, who even now was watching him with his stupidly large eyes and a defiant smile, to get back to earning money with him.

“Do you know that even with an older boy you would look like the girl?” he said then, probably only because, if Craig couldn't win, neither Tweek had the right to.
Even these words of his were taken personally by the blond, but this time it was almost justified when he grabbed Craig by the collar of his shirt.
"Maybe breaking your nose in front of everyone would show what's what, then!"
Craig remained impassive, just watching him in silence. Tweek, seeing him not even reacting, snorted with resignation, leaving the shirt alone and looking at him baffled.

“I don't understand, why do you care now? Why are you here? -aaahk! You’re finally free and you come here?”

Craig looked at the ground for a second, trying to put his thoughts in order.

“I don't care about the money.”
“Wha–”
“It was fun while I did it with you.”
Whatever Tweek was about to say to cut him off died in his throat, letting out only a croak of surprise. He stared at him in silence, amazed and dazed. Craig kept talking.

“Making a fool out of the whole town with you had been the most exciting thing I've ever done in my life.”

He looked up at Tweek, who gaped at him.
"And it's only been a week since I stopped talking to you every day and that was enough to make it clear to me that I really like being with you."

He wanted to hear the song Tweek said he was learning for Craig on the piano, and he wanted to formally introduce Tweek to his beloved Stripe, and he wanted to do a million other things with Tweek. Just the two of them. And he absolutely wanted to hold his hand again.

What he didn't expect was to watch Tweek's face turn a little redder with each passing second. The blond quickly brought both his arms to cover his face. “Wait, wait, wait!”
Craig tried to see whatever reaction Tweek was trying to hide from him, but his eyes where elsewhere.
“What are you saying all of a sudden-!?”
"Is everything okay?" he asked, with a hint of concern.
“My company? No one ever enjoyed-” he muttered absently, as if he couldn't even see Craig standing before him, lost in his stupor.

“Come back together with me, Tweek.” Craig said with conviction, feeling his tension tighten as Tweek's eyes darted back to him..

“I'm sorry. And I like being gay with you.”
Tweek looked at him as if frozen for a few more seconds, almost making Craig regret his sudden self-confidence.

“…Alright.” Tweek murmured in a faint voice, finally uncovering his face, looking at him in disbelief.
Craig observed him in surprise. "Alright?"
Tweek nodded, suddenly revived. He quickly took his hand in his, as if to make it official.

They both stopped to observe their joined hands, after almost a week of waiting Craig felt like he was finally breathing for the first time.

“You can't back down from this!” Tweek intimated. Craig in response smiled at him, squeezing his hand in his.
As if I would let something like this happen again.

“What are we going to tell people? In theory I’m about to buy a present for another boy.” Tweek asked suddenly.
“We will tell everyone that I won you back. And that this time we won't break up."

“Y'know, I heard that Cartman and Kenny are having a superhero lore.”
"...Gay."