It started with the coffee. Somehow, his parents actually thought that coffee would calm him down, when all it did was make him look like a complete meth addict before he even was one. Soon followed the alcohol, somehow he actually thought that it would calm him down, but no such luck. Tweek tried many things to reverse the damage done to his system by years of consistently drinking coffee, drugs and rehab, only to break halfway through and fall off the wagon over and over and over again.
All he wanted was to be able to get through one sentence without having a nervous breakdown and deciding that his entire life was too much to handle. It was tiring and nerve wracking and frankly Tweek would much rather be seen as a regular human being instead of a whacked out mess of nerves and tension like he had been since he was a kid. He loved his parents, but he would never be able to forgive them for what they'd done to him.
He skipped rehab today though, and instead decided to sit around Stark's Pond, trying to stop the twitching and convulsions that seemed to be almost an inevitable thing in his body. But the process stressed him out worse than usual, so he gave up, attempting to just relax and watch the half frozen water ripple in the wind. Thoughts of potential deaths flit through his mind, drowning, hypothermia, getting mauled by a bear, and he jumped up, terrified, proceeding to flee from the area. They was so stupid, his fears.
He was so scared of dying that he had no idea how to just live.
Tweek heard a loud, nasally voice talking and nearly slipped and fell in his haste to hide from whoever was coming. "No, Clyde, you have to set it up like this. We won't catch anything if you keep fucking it up." Curious, Tweek peeked out from the bushes and saw Clyde Donovan and Craig Tucker setting up a simple carrot under the upside down box on a stick trap, though for what purpose Tweek had no clue.
Stepping out from the bushes, so excited to see his friends, Tweek waved to the two boys and hurried over to them. "What are you—erg—doing?" he asked, scolding himself for freaking out in a normal sentence again. The other two, so used to his quirks, ignored it, showing him the trap and explaining their plan. "Ack—won't Cartman be pissed?" Tweak questioned fearfully, following the two away from the trap.
"Who cares?" a calm Craig replied, hiding a sufficient distance away from their setup and sitting on a fallen log. Tweek had to admire Craig's ability to stay calm under duress, his face a mask of serenity and confidence. He wondered how Craig did it all these years, stayed sane and sober and completely unaffected by the shit that went down in South Park. Tweek would never be able to do that, never be able to just let things happen and see where the chips fell. It was a baffling and terrifying prospect. And Tweek never wanted to bring about the wrath of Eric Cartman, especially after what happened to Scott Tenorman. Cartman was an unstable sociopath with a wicked mind and an ability to take revenge on anyone at anytime.
The thought of it sent Tweek into a frenzy and he started to rush away from his friends, terrified of the repercussions of their endeavor. He felt someone grab the collar of his shirt—that he still couldn't button properly due to his shaky hands—and toppled backwards, looking into the cool eyes of Craig. He didn't mean to become attached, really, but there was something about the calmness of Craig that he wanted to observe and imitate until it was his very own.
"Where are you going?" Craig demanded, though his tone barely changed from his regular, monotone voice. Tweek had to admit, that even though he was terrified of Cartman, there was something soothing about Craig's presence that almost dispersed his fear.
He answered, feeling the twitching in his face getting worse with stress, "Dude, Cartman'll fucking like—ack!—kill us or something!" Craig rolled his eyes and pulled Tweek up by his jacket, giving him a glare that was both scary and sexy. He wanted to punch himself in the head, but instead followed along quietly, keeping his outbursts at a minimum, as the two caught their rabbit.
Clyde took it home to wait for the next day, when they were going to do whatever it was they were going to do with it, and Tweek followed Craig down the cold, lonely roads of South Park, trying to keep the awe out of his face as he looked at him. Tweek's house was first, and as he started to walk towards the door, he saw that Craig was looking around suspiciously. Tweek noted they were alone, unless his friend had somehow discovered they were being followed by an invisible person or an alien or fucking Cartman or—
Craig kissed him.
Tweek didn't expect it, ask for it, or want it, but it happened. The two stared at each other, Craig almost emotionless and Tweek shaking so badly he almost fell over. "What the—gah!—what the fuck?" he demanded, taking a step away from Craig.
"You need to relax," Craig said with a shrug, before going on his way to his own house right across the street.
His words struck home, Tweek realized as he lay in bed that night. He did need to relax, that much was true. But as he replayed the kiss in his mind, he also realized that he wanted more. Before he could reflect on that thought, a tap sounded at the window and he fell out of bed, hiding in his comforter and peeking out at the glass. Another tap sounded, and he saw a pebble had rebounded off the frame. He wasn't sure if he should be curious or terrified, so he settled for a little of both and looked out the window.
Craig stood there, in his boots and pajamas, and tossed another pebble as Tweek was opening his window. "Gah!" he squealed as the rock hit him square between the eyes. "What Craig?—ack!" Without a word, Craig scaled the tree outside of Tweek's window and was standing there in his room, covered in snow and looking absolutely breathtaking that Tweek almost had to sit down. It was weird what a kiss could do to how you perceive someone, and Craig went from the strangely attractive pessimist to the most beautiful thing Tweek had ever seen in his life.
"I wanted to let you know that if you tell anyone, I'll deny it," he explained coolly, sitting on the windowsill as the cold Colorado air swept in. Suddenly, Tweek was calm, staring at Craig and feeling the cold around his toes, the twitching in his face relaxing and his body's shaking stopping.
He said boldly, feeling stronger than he had ever in his life, "I won't tell anyone if you keep doing it." Because Tweek couldn't just have one of something, he couldn't just get a taste for it and be satisfied. He needed all or nothing, needed it always or never. Losing Craig's kiss would be like shooting up with heroin once and expecting to not crave it again, your body aching for the feel it gave you. Tweek was already on a downward slope, and he didn't want to do heroin anymore, didn't want to do meth or crack. All he wanted were Craig's kisses.
There was silence for a full minute, the boys staring at each other, Craig's blue eyes catching Tweek's green ones and holding them without effort. Finally, Craig turned towards the window and Tweek wanted to stop him from leaving, from taking the calm and his morphine kisses away. But he just closed Tweek's window without leaving, turning back to him and pushing him down onto his bed.
Tweek got his kisses, many of them, that night. It gave him a high he had never experienced with any other drugs in his short life, nothing that alcohol could give him, nothing that all the coffee in the world could make him feel. Tweek's addictive personality did nothing for him but get him into trouble, and he knew that Craig was trouble.
He didn't care.