- Please don't tear this up upon sight -

Dear Tweek,

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I hurt you, and sorry I broke your heart. I'm sorry you left, and I'm sorry I was the reason why. I'm sorry for not being there for you, and sorry for being there for someone else.

This letter is not me begging you to take me back. You don't deserve an inconsiderate bastard/asshole like me, nor do I deserve someone as perfect as you. I just want to explain why I did what I did, alright?

It was a funny thing, you and I. At school we were known as the ice-cold, emotionless Tucker Boy and that twitchy, coffee addicted Tweak Kid. But around each other...our roles just kind of reversed. I'm not saying I became obsessed over the idea that gnomes stole my underpants at night, or you began to utilise your middle finger way more than when appropriate, I'm just saying our relationship was a lot different than what people thought.

I loved you so much Tweek. I still do, and if you think back, really think back, even if it hurts, there is no way you can deny that. Everyone thought I just had a soft spot for you, and you were the clingy "girl" in our relationship... But, shit, I was soft all over for you and clingy as fuck. Sure, I topped, which may automatically have made me not the girl...But remember when you did that once? You were so worried about hurting me you pulled out after 10 seconds, even though I had practically begged you to do it. And you know what Tweek? Those 10 seconds is one of my favorite moments from when we were together.

So, why? Why did you come home to see me in a compromising position, and justifiably, with Kenny, of all people? Why did I cheat on you in the first place?

I guess it was because of me. Me and my fucking careless ways. I could use the excuse that I was drunk, or remind you that it was just after a fight, but you don't deserve that bullshit. You really don't, Tweek. None of this is your fault.

Do you remember what had happened that morning? That fight we had? I was getting tired of it, Tweekie. I know most of them originated because of me, but we had so many I couldn't quite keep tabs. It was always over some petty thing. For example, me ranting at you for forgetting your medicine.

That morning? I got jealous, as you surely know. Tweek, you're beautiful, in every single way I can think of - I don't give a fuck how gay that sounds - and I've always been scared of someone taking you away from me, or at least trying. When you started to get close to Clyde...

I know you were just close friends; we all were, as kids. But from the first day your parents employed Clyde at the coffee shop, and you began to share shifts with him, I began to feel a little bit pissed off at Clyde, even if he hadn't done anything wrong. Not yet, anyway. I hated how you would tell me how work went, but never failed to mention Clyde. I hated how, sometimes, you spent more time with him than with me, and we were living together.

I kept it bottled up, until that day. Clyde asked you out; it was bound to happen. Clyde never gives a shit that his prey is dating someone else.

It slipped out at breakfast that Clyde wanted to go out with you, and I flipped out. You tried to re assure me, tell me that you had turned him down with no uncertainty, that you would remain just friends. I couldn't help myself.

I hit you.

I still remember the sound of my fist making contact with your face. The tears that protruded from your eyes. The quick reddening in your left cheek.

I calmed down, but not enough. I demanded that you stopped seeing him all together, which was when you rushed out of the Kitchen, flipping me off beforehand.

I cried for ages, Tweek. Bawled like a fucking baby. It wasn't the worst fight we had ever had, it was just the fact that I had hurt you. Ironically, I did it again a few hours later.

I'll spare you the details. I just wanted comfort sex, some pleasure to distract myself from the pain. I cant put into writing how much I regret it, how much I wish we could just go straight back to breakfast, with you sipping coffee and me gnawing at a slice of toast. No, not the morning we had a fight. I'm talking about that sleepover we had ten years ago, when we were 9, and we made that pact. The pact to always be honest with each other. The one I'm keeping now.

I hope you're happy with him or her (I know you're bi). I really hope you are. I pray to God s/he treats you right, and never snaps at you.

I wish you the pressure free life you deserve, Tweek.

I love you,

Craig Malcolm Tucker x

Sorry I just have this headcanon where Craig's middle name is Malcolm. Anyway, reviews would be nice! I may do a sequel with Tweek writing back if you want me to :c