Author's Note: Chapters will switch P.O.V, depending on how well-liked or disliked the first few chapters are I may or may not continue. I'll attempt to update every 2-3 weeks, but just know right now that I'm impeccably lazy. Also if you feel as though I haven't accurately portrayed something, just tell me and I'll attempt to fix it as long as it doesn't interfere with anything I feel is essential to the story's progression. I have absolutely no idea where this writing going or where it will end up so suggestions for sub plots or extra characters and ideas are always welcome. As of now Creek is the only pairing that'll be featured, I may or may not add more characters and or pairings in future chapters. Thank you if you wasted time reading this entire thing, also reviews are always appreciated. Thank you.
I do not own South Park.
Chapter 1. Part 1: Tweek Tweak 12:37 A.M.
Blindingly bright florescent lights shone overhead, which when combined with the already unbearable white walls and linoleum tiles, only serve to worsen to horrible condition of Tweek's head. The winding halls and click-clacking sound of his and the psychologist he's following's shoes don't seem to aid his problem.
Just how long had it been since his parents had admitted him here? He couldn't tell for the walls were void of any and all clocks, and they'd taken all items on his person before sending him off into the unknown.
Shaking, Tweek continued to follow the man who'd been put in charge of guideing him to his room. What had he done? Why was he here? Were his mother and father ever coming back for him? Would he die here?
Unanswerable questions swirled inside of his head mixing together and creating a panicked stream of thoughts he'd rather have left in the back of his mind. His headache was becoming increasingly worse as they walked. His shaking increased and to prevent being noticed Tweek wrapped his arms tightly around his chest and stomach making sure to hold his restlessness inside.
Thankfully, just before Tweek's exterior was about to crack, the man in front of him stopped to peek down at what Tweek assumed was a file of information on him, turned and began to unlock one of the many doors in that particular hallway.
The door itself had a single window and above that window was the number 143 in black paint. When Tweek's guide had finished unlocking the door, he began to speak.
"Tweek, this is your room and until further notice, it will remain your room. A nurse will accompany you tomorrow to get you situated. It's nighttime now and it'd be greatly appreciated if you could get some sleep." He says it all tonelessly and then proceeds to, in the most polite way possible, shove Tweek into the pitch blackness that this room contains.
An audible click sounds when door is locked, and it as that moment that Tweek begins to panic and twitch.
It is that exact moment when the click sound resonates throughout the otherwise silent room that Tweek proceeds to pull at his already unruly blonde hair and shake. Darkness has never gotten along well with his constant paranoia and multitude of fears. It also doesn't help that he no longer is able to consume coffee as a method of calming down.
It's when Tweek's shaking becomes, at the very least, manageable that he sits down on the twin bed in the corner of his room, wraps the single blanket provided around his frail shoulders, and proceeds to wait out what is sure to be a dreadfully long night.
Chapter 1. Part 2: Craig Tucker 6:54 A.M.
It was at this time every morning that Craig Tucker awoke form his dreamless slumber just to wish that he'd have remained there for a while longer. Life at this particular institution was particularly boring, this was probably because the operators and owners of said facility had a schedule they put into play every day.
Not that Craig minded. He actually preferred the normalcy and blandness of his life here. Everything that happened was expected and Craig rather enjoyed predictability.
In just a few minutes a nurse would walk down the hallway outside his room, knocking on the patient's doors to rouse them from sleep, as well as unlocking said doors. Craig waited expectantly for the knock and when it came he waited again for the click of the lock.
With his door now unlocked, Craig exited his room and closed it behind him, observing how, just as always, the black painted on 87 was still above the tiny window in his door. Everything was the same, as always.
Stepping into the cafeteria, Craig stood on line for his breakfast, a bowl of cereal, an orange, and a single cup of water, before making his way over to a particular table located in the far left corner of the room by himself to eat in peace.
After this he'd go to group therapy as always and say absolutely nothing. Just as expected of him.
Soon after finishing and throwing away his breakfast Craig reclaimed his spot at the far left corner table, resigning himself to observing the other patients. Craig had always been observant of people, even more so since he'd been admitted to this institution. He liked to feel that he understood most people and could quite easily decipher other people's personalities and thoughts. It was rather tedious to speak to someone you had already figured out, because of this he tended to avoid people.
So when a twitching blonde boy about his age walked in, he was quiet shocked to find that he couldn't decipher the other boy's personality or reasons for being here.
He was even more so shocked when all the boy brought back to one of the many tables with him was a single cup of black coffee.
I'd love to know if this piece of fiction is any good, so if you do have time please consider leaving a review. This may be updated tomorrow or after Christmas, in case anyone is interested. Thank you for reading!