Chapter 1. Hell`s Pass. FAG-o-scopy.
[Tweek]
I`m eight, in hospital, and God bless Stan, Kyle, Cartman and... well... Kenny. I`m lying in bed, hurting literally everywhere, but at the same time there's this weird warm buzz in my head and in my chest. It's a pleasant buzz, a nice one, sweet even... sort of. The heat in my chest intensifies, and my fingertips get all ticklish whenever I turn my head to the left and look at the boy on the other bed. Craig and I are the only patients in this room, so I do it often, glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He often looks back at me, catches my stupid smile. Most of the time he won't look away and will just stare for a long time, and watch me shake and twitch helplessly under his scrutinizing gaze. OH MY GOD, IT'S JUST TOO MUCH PRESSURE to look him in the eyes, but for some reason I cannot turn away. Craig isn't a very emotional type, his face is usually pretty much expressionless, but when he stares at me, he takes off his 'I don't give a fuck' mask - somehow his face conveys a feeling of being slightly puzzled and trying to figure something out so badly. His brows are up, his mouth slightly open, and sometimes he will bite his lower lip. I don't get why he will look at me like that, as if it's me who puzzles him so. We play this game of stares for a long time before my twitching and shaking gets worse (it always does, because there's just TOO MUCH PRESSURE!) and I turn away or pretend to pass out or fall asleep.
Sometimes, but not very often, though, Craig smiles back. And when he does so, I feel something extraordinary. I forget about the pain and all my worries, my paranoia, the constant state of vigil accompanying me since god knows when - all of it just vanishes while I`m looking at Craig Tucker's smile. For as long as he is smiling at me, I stop twitching and enjoy feeling relieved, happy and safe. I don't know why his smile has such a tremendous healing effect on me, but what I`m sure about is that I`m never going to blow this chance - I`m gonna stay close to Craig Tucker, because he is the coolest guy I know. Fate works mysterious ways, and well, I`m not in the least sorry about this whole fight and being hospitalized. I just hope that by the time they release us we'll have become best friends.
He tells me about his pet guinea pig Stripe. I guess, no one in the class suspects it, but now I know: Craig is actually a very sweet kid. He's not at all violent - so what if he enjoys flipping people off? No, I think that someone who talks with so much care and fondness about their pets, cannot be cruel and harsh.
Talking to him, I don't really care what's on TV or on the radio. I don't get distracted by my Gameboy. I couldn't fucking believe it that simply talking to Craig Tucker makes my attention span longer and so much more stable. For some reason I feel like I can trust him a lot... like... anything, really. I don't know why, I guess, when you've already beaten the shit out of each other... twice... it's that point where you know more about each other than most people would find comfortable knowing. Like... I can look at Craig and tell where his balls are immediately. That's because I didn't want to hit Tucker in the balls when I was beating the shit out of him. I still find it strange... I was like superpissed at him, yet didn't want to cause that kind of damage... Tough I still think I hurt him more than he did me. I`m sorry about that.
"I'm sorry, Craig", I blurt out instantly. "I'm sorry about the fight."
[Craig]
"I`m sorry, too", I reply, glancing at him for a quick moment and then turning away not to give out my feelings. Goddamnit, why am I such a wuss?
I`m eight. I`m in hospital, and I think I might be dying. I panic inside, I`m a total mess, my stomach hurts like hell, so I think this is it. My parents won't let the doctors give me morphine, because, I quote my dad, 'A man can handle a little pain. What, is it better for you to become a worthless junkie and start turning them tricks in a back alley to earn a quick fix?' That's my dad's favorite scary story, and I didn't use to even get it until recently, when I asked Eric Cartman what 'turning tricks' really means, so he explained me the whole thing. Turns out, my dad really likes to motivate me by telling sick horror stories about how one day I can become a junkie or a faggot, which for him is all the same, and then the only way for me to get by meant turning into a male prostitute. Something like that. I`m not quite sure why my dad would enjoy fantasizing about such a future for his son, but I understand why is it that I just need to stay away from drugs and fags, because clearly the two things belong together like bread and peanut butter.
My stomach is killing me, and technically, it's all Tweek's fault. He dinged me up damn hard. Before the fight I could never imagine what a freaking killing machine he is. I heard that Stan and Kyle fixed some boxing training for him, and Clyde even told me about Tweek having beaten Stan's uncle's friend Ned so bad he coughed blood. I know I should be angry at the kid, but then again, was it really so much of his fault? No, we both bought the lies which those four douchebags fed us. We didn't have to listen to them, did we? We could have always talked to each other and checked whether those damn stories were true in the first place. Instead, we let ourselves be manipulated into a fight, twice! I guess, we both have to blame for our traumas. And those douchebags deserve punishment. Oh, so much!
I`m trying to watch my favorite program TV 'Red Racer' and forget about the pain, but it doesn't help - that's how bad my insides are hurting. I notice Tweek staring at me again - he does it ever so often - smiling for reasons unknown. Somehow his smiles manage to cheer me up, so I turn my head to him and smile back. I`m still hurting bad, but looking Tweek in the eyes gets me distracted from all the pain. I mean, I still know it's there, but it's like I`m not feeling it anymore - as long as this blond boy keeps staring at me just like this, with his big green eyes and a wide smile. I don't know why he finds me so amusing, but I don't really care as long as he keeps my mind away from the suffering.
Time crawls like a fucking snail, slowly, boringly, like we're in detention or something. So we start talking a lot to kill time. We'll also watch TV, but not much, as there are no kids' channels, and most of the everyday shit's just lame. I`m fucking surprised to find out that Tweek is a pretty cool guy. I mean, I've never thought so, cause most of the classmates feel insecure about hanging out with him - because of his syndrome, and because his mood is so unpredictable. But really, once you get to know Tweek, you can't deny that he's great. He's smart, and artistic, and wildly imaginative. You can't possibly think of how much strange but interesting facts are stuffed into his twitchy head. For example how it wouldn't take long for an average python to strangle an eight year old completely to death and like, there's no chance for a person to save themselves unless someone helps them. He says he's seen it in some documentary about deadly snakes. It's because his ADHD, he says: he will often get bored sick, so he has to intake tons of new information to feel at least close to normal. He can watch almost anything on TV, read any books or newspapers, listen to all kinds of shit on the radio - just for the sake of getting a fresh fix of data.
"I think it's so much more exciting to chat together!" he says, looking at me with this friendly wide smile of his. "Better than any TV, you know?"
His words work fucking magic, as I forget all about my aching stomach and my bruises and scratches. For some unknown fucking reason what Tweek's just said to me somehow increased my pain tolerance levels, so that I stop dreaming about painkillers. The very next moment I decide I wish to be friends with Tweek like... forever.
And when I smile back at him I try to put the wish into my smiling lips and make him notice.
[Tweek]
I wake up a little after noon and find Craig brooding, his face pale, and his mouth curved strangely. He won't even look at me once I say 'Good morning, Craig'. He won't even nod. Nothing. I wonder, if I've done anything to make him like that. Or may be he thinks, he's dying? What if he's hurting like really bad? Shall I call help? Signal the nurse may be?
"GAH! Craig!" I twitch spastically. "Do you want me to call the nurse?"
"What?" he stares at me with a startled look. "Why?"
"Are you OK, man? GAH! Or hurting?"
He chuckles.
"I guess, I`m hurting OK".
I manage to calm down a bit.
"Are you sure I shouldn't call a nurse?"
"Yeah. I`m sure... It's just..."
He turns away, his face red. Craig doesn't often show emotion, so he must be ashamed of demonstrating his feelings so openly. I clearly see there's something troubling him, but what?
"Hey, Tweek", he calls me, "can I tell you something? But you're not supposed to tell anyone about it."
Oh, my god! He wants to tell me a secret! TOO MUCH PRESSURE! What if he tells me something that'll get me in trouble? Something so nasty that I'd have to go tell on him? Aaah! What do I do?
Thinking all of it, I keep staring at him, my eyes wide open, as I gasp for air and twitch. Then again... to promise someone not to tell their secret is a serious commitment. I normally hate obligations and commitments, but this is Craig Tucker desperate to share some personal stuff. Surely, I can't miss such an opportunity.
"GAH! Sure, man", I say, shaking badly. "I won't tell anyone."
He gives out a deep lonely sigh. Still having his gaze fixed on the greenish room wall.
"The doctor said I've got this procedure scheduled for tomorrow. A test or something. And I worry about failing it. I can't fail it, Tweek, if I do, I'll get in trouble. My father's gonna be crazy angry... "
"What? GAH! Oh Jesus, what's this test all about?"
I start shaking more, as I imagine I might also be scheduled in for some creepy tests. What if the doctors are going to perform experiments on us? What if they cut us open and steal all the vital organs and sell them at the black donor market? Aaah!
Craig sighs again.
"It's called fag-o-scopy or something. They're gonna put a huge rubber tube in my mouth and stick it inside to check whether I`m a fag or not."
"DUDE! SICK!"
"I think it was my dad who wanted this test done. He doesn't want a gay son. What if I`m fag after all? What if I am, Tweek? Do you think he's going to put me up for adoption?"
"GAH! Jesus, Craig! You're insane! I`m sure there's no such thing as fag-o-scopy! My parents told me, you have to figure it out all by your-GAH-yourself, if you're gay or straight. Is your dad homophobic?"
"Well, not really. I mean he's totally fine with gays having the same rights and all, but he kind of thinks they're junkies and prostitutes. And he wants me to stay away from this shit."
"Man, your dad's a weirdo." I say, but then I think about my folks and can't help adding "But so is mine. Whose parents are sane in this town, anyway? Right?"
This helps to cheer Craig up a little. And maybe he even believes me that there is no medical test to check whether someone is gay or not. Nevertheless, he asks me if I can keep him company during the procedure and I promise that I would. Another commitment with Craig Tucker, am I crazy? Why do I keep making these promises? Aaah! Too much pressure! Oh, Jesus! Oh, god!
[Craig]
Tweek manages to calm me down by saying that there's no such thing as fag-o-scopy. I`m still not a hundred per cent convinced, but don't feel like panicking anymore. We spend half the day discussing our favorite episodes from 'Terrance and Philip', laughing our assess off, until Tweek's parents come to get him. It turns out that they're releasing him from the hospital right now, while I have to stay for several more days.
I watch Tweek pack his belongings and feel lonely. What am I going to do here for so long without his company? How will I survive the pain and the silence? Damn. What if my procedure hurts like hell? He promised me to be there, didn't he?
"Mom", I hear Tweek's shaky voice, "there isn't a medical test called fag-0-scopy, is there?"
"Why, yes, there is, pumpkin", she answers, and I start sweating all over. No fucking way... I told him. Shit. Shit!
"It's when a patient swallows a long rubber tube so that the doctors look at the inside of the..." Mr Tweek started explaining, but I couldn't listen anymore, I was too scared. My bad feeling was right: dad really wanted to make sure I`m not gay. But what if I am? Gosh! What if I am not like everyone? What shall I do?
Mr and Mrs Tweak are already in the hallway, calling for Tweek, but he's still in the room with me, and I see how hard it is for him to leave me in this state. I pretty much know my face doesn't even slightly reflect my thoughts. On the surface, it should be completely emotionless and stoic. I don't know how, but this kid just sees through my facade.
"I`ll ask my parents to drive me here tomorrow." he suddenly says, "I promised to stay with you, right? What time's the procedure scheduled for?"
"Noon", I reply, trying to sound nonchalantly, as I feel pleasant heated sweetness whirling inside my chest.
"I'll be here", he says confidently and runs outside the room to his parents.
I stay in the big room, alone, with only my panicking soul to keep me company. I don't think I'll be able to sleep well tonight.
[Tweek]
I can't sleep all night, sitting in front of my computer, trying to research fag-o-scopy. I sip on my coffee as I read about fellatio and prostate stimulation. JESUS, WHY WOULD SOMEONE DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT? MAN! THIS IS TOO MUCH PRESSURE! There's nothing about fag-o-scopy though. Couldn't my parents have tricked me? May be there isn't such a thing.
But then it dawns on me that I might be spelling the word wrong. So I go ask my parents and they tell me it's phagoscopy. I find the word, and it turns out to be a test for alimentary canal, your gullet and stomach. Nothing even remotely connected with being gay. Still, the procedure is disgusting, so I'd better keep my promise and come support my friend. I also need to tell him that he shouldn't be afraid of the results.
I get up at seven, dress up quickly and run down to the kitchen.
"Good morning, sweetie" mom says, handing me a mug of freshly brewed black coffee.
"Morning, mom! Remember you promised to drive me to Hell's Pass?"
"Sure, pumpkin. But don't you think it's way too early?"
"What if the main road gets blocked by a snowstorm and we'd have to take a sideway? GAH! I promised Craig I'll be there."
"Well, ok, honey, we'll leave early, but you should at least have some pancakes, will you?"
"GAH! Alright, mom!"
I start chewing on my breakfast hastily, shaking at the thought that I might be late for the twelve o'clock procedure. It's simply the most important event of the day for me. Now that I am beginning to be friends with Craig, I just cannot let him down.
"Dude! I've got to tell you something about the procedure!" I scream, dashing into the room, but it turns out that Craig doesn't want to hear a thing. I`m sure he's gonna feel all better once he hears what I have to share, but he refuses so confidently, that I don't dare break his wish. Alright. The procedure might not be connected with being gay, but it's still nasty as fuck, so I've gotta help him.
The doctor and two nurses come in with two big trays of equipment. There's a small monitor and soft plastic tubes sticking out of it. The doctor chooses one from a number of caps for the tubes and then explains the nature of the procedure to Craig. They tell me I've got to go away, but I can't leave my friend in sure peril. So I clutch on his hand with all my ten fingers and refuse to let go of it. Craig half-turns his head, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. He nods just a little bit, and I understand that I`m doing the right thing.
"Alright, then," the doctor says, "if you wish to watch your friend choking on this tube - here you go".
I almost scream when they start sticking the tube into Craig's throat, how he naturally resists it, how he cringes and gags, but nothing can help him, and I see tears in his eyes. JESUS! IT'S A TORTURE! I try not to twitch, so as not to add to the severity of his ordeal, I just keep squeezing his warm hand, reminding him that he's not alone and I`m here to support him. I like the way his hand feels in mine, and I can't shake off the feeling like it belongs there. I think I wouldn't mind to kind of hold his hand a little longer than necessary.
When it's over, he can't speak for a while, his throat all sore after the procedure. So I just sit there and tell him stories about aliens and underpants gnomes. He can't laugh, but giggles at my jokes and we don't notice how quickly time passes. I'm still holding his hand, and he doesn't seem to mind.
"GAH!" suddenly I remember. "I have to tell you something important, Craig!"
He jerks his gaze up, looking at me curiously, brows up, mouth open. My sudden twitch must've startled him. Well, I can't help being who I am. I tell him what I know about the procedure and that it has nothing to do with sexual orientation and all.
"Really?" he brightens up in a second. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, man! Totally! You can relax now, GAH!"
"Tweekie, honey, it's time to go!" my mom looks inside the room. "I`m sure Craig needs some rest now, doesn't he?"
"I've got to go," I say as I stand up from the chair at his bedside. He catches me by my loose sleeve trying to hold me back.
"Tweek?" he calls. "I'll see you at school, right?"
"Sure, man. See you soon!"
I rush out of the room, because I don't want to keep mom waiting. I'm really grateful to her that she bothered driving me all the way to see Craig. I don't know why I want to be bestest friends with him, but I`m sure that I`m already on my way to it. God bless Stan, Kyle, Cartman and... well, he's dead now, Kenny McCormick, but God bless his soul, too.
Hey, I just wanted to thank you for reading this fanfic. My idea is to go through some events in canon and show how Tweek and Craig might totally be on their way to becoming canon in 19x06 and how their relationship developped afterwards. Hope you'll enjoy my story!