An eighteen year old boy walked down the streets of Chicago with a slip of paper in hand and his eyes scanning address numbers looking for a certain one in particular. The wind was blowing heavily making the boy wish he wore more than a thin cardigan sweater. The sound of his ankle boots clacked loudly on the sidewalk, it was the only sound out at this time of night, aside from the occasional passing of cars. The apartment number 1304 appeared before the boy and he picked his pace up to a jog to reach it faster. Once in front of the building he pressed the buzzer then waited for the owner to let him in.
The door unlocked, inviting the young adult within. A hallway along with a questionable looking staircase were all that apartment had to offer, and he began walking up the stairs which lead to another hallway. The room he was looking for was at the very end of the upper-level structure. The boy ran down to meet it then knocked anxiously until it opened for him.
Standing behind appeared to be a man in his early thirties with dull grey eyes and thinning brown hair. His thin lips offered a smile to the younger boy then stepped aside to let him in.
"You must be Tweek." The man said, closing the door and locking it behind them. "Can I ask what your real name is?"
The boy gave the man a sly smile. "Maybe later."
The apartment didn't have very much to offer. It seemed like a studio with a bathroom off to the side. A mattress lied in the furthest right corner, complete with black sheets and a matching black comforter. It seemed to be the only furniture you could actually sit on, because everything else within the room was a large painter's easel and several painting ranging among all different sizes. Tweek stood awkwardly in the middle of it all, waiting for the man to suggest something to do.
The man, whose name Tweek still didn't know, stared at the blonde with lust in his eyes. He grabbed the blonde's small hand and led him to the bed. As they got closer to it, he noticed a plastic baggie filled with liquid vials and several different needles. The man pushed Tweek onto the bed, then sat down beside him.
"Ever done GHB before?" He asked while going to grab for the bag.
The blonde shook his head, emerald eyes watched closely as the man fetched a vial and began to take some of the liquid into the needle. The sound of it being injected filled the silence. The man looked up after he was finished, a smile within those dull hues. "GHB… Gamma hydroxybutyrate." He butchered the name. "…Liquid x..?"
Tweek's eyes widened at that name. "Oh! No. No, I haven't really done any hardcore drugs."
"This should be fun then." He muttered. "By the way – you can call me Cole."
It was nothing like Tweek had ever experienced before. The sensation, the colours, and most of all – the warmth. A lot of it was a blur, but he definitely knew what was going on. The thirty year old man, who insisted he be called Cole, hovered over the small blonde, fingertips touching every surface of his soft, milky skin. Moans sounded throughout the apartment, Tweek wasn't very quiet during sex. The man quickened his pace, even though he's done it plenty of times. It's been going on for an hour now, even though they've already cummed around three times each. Cole grunted, grabbing a handful of the small boy's hair. He brought his lips to the blonde's ear and whispered roughly into it.
"Getting tired yet?"
Tweek sighed, rolling his head to the side. It wasn't his first time sleeping with a stranger. This was an activity the eighteen year old found himself doing a lot on the weekends – hitting up a man with experience on a social media website, meeting up with him a few days later, and finally engaging in sex. He was trying to discover himself, and this seemed like the best way possible. The question of being gay always hovered over Tweek's head for many years, it turned out to be true the first time he had himself rammed into by a stranger.
The blonde went to grab Cole's hand from out of his hair. Fingers became loose around the locks, and soon the movements between the two came to an end. The older man rolled off Tweek, going to lie right beside him. His erection was still prominent, looking to be a bother. Tweek noticed it in the corner of his eye.
"Want me to take care of that?" He asked gravely.
No response came and it caused Tweek to sit up and look over to the man beside him. He lied on his back, hazel eyes hiding behind closed eyelids, heavy breathing sounded from the man's mouth that was slightly open. He must have fell asleep the moment he hit the mattress.
Sighing, Tweek got off the bed as carefully as he could. The effects of the GHB were beginning to wear off. As he eyed the small baggie which was almost empty of the drug now, the blonde remembered he didn't even want to take the substance to begin with. He remembers the way Cole jammed the needle harshly into the skin on his arm, even as he protested it, and how it didn't take too long for the effects to start working. It pissed Tweek off. He felt used and more importantly, taken advantage of. Yeah, he was going to end up having sex with the man anyways, but he wanted it to come naturally. Not enforced by a drug.
He pulled his clothes over his body as quickly as he could, the cold of the apartment beginning to settle in. Glaring down at the sleeping man while Tweek buttoned his thin cardigan, rage was overcoming his emotions. He got back onto the bed, kneeling over Cole, then slapped him as hard as he could in an attempt to wake the sleeping man. Hazel eyes opened wide and he jumped up to a sitting position.
"The fuck?!"
"You used me!" Tweek yelled. He brought his hand forward to slap Cole again, a loud smack echoed throughout the apartment. "I didn't want to take that shit, and I told you that!"
The brunette laughed loudly, throwing his head back. "You should thank me, kid. If it wasn't for that, you wouldn't have been much of a fuck."
"You weren't even that great, jackass."
"You say that, but I bet you can't remember a thing."
"Fuck you!"
Tweek got off the bed angrily. He walked over to where his boots sat near the doorway. As the blonde attempted to put them on as fast as he could, he wasn't aware of how the older man got off the bed as well and went to grab a silver weapon that conveniently sat on the nightstand. Buckles fastened and the boy straightened out, hand gripping the door knob. But he stopped when a hand grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and pushed him against the wall.
"You're pathetic, blondie."
The pain was excruciating. It was long and stretched out for the entire time Tweek laid on the ground bleeding out. He should have been dead by now. Should had been taken out of the misery of attempting to breathe when blood was stuck in his airways and numerous stab wounds decorated his torso. It wouldn't be for another two minutes until he passed out. They were the longest two minutes of his life.
There was no sun in Purgatory. The light source that was given seemed to be a mystery and no matter how long one tried to stay up to see when it came out to signify morning, nobody ever caught it. It just seemed to rise when everyone wasn't paying attention.
This was something that bothered Craig Tucker. He wanted to know how this world worked, and he had all of eternity to find out.
He woke up to the sound of his mother humming a tune. It surrounded him as he stirred around in bed then sat up. Laura Tucker sat in her bed parallel to his, softy combing and braiding her blonde hair that reached the mid-section of her back. Craig admired the looks of his mother. She was a very beautiful women, much better looking in person than in the pictures he was always shown growing up. Even though Laura was ultra-pale and had constant bags under her blue-violet eyes, it hardly changed her appearance. She still seemed to glow.
She stopped humming and looked over at her son. "Good morning." Her mouth smiled softly.
Craig nodded and moved his hands to ask, 'How are you doing this morning?'
Sign language was something Craig always struggled with. He knew plenty of words because his younger sister was deaf, so it came in handy when he found he couldn't speak once joining Purgatory. But many of the other residents didn't know a thing, and he often found himself not communicating. Craig taught his mother what he could by showing off numerous symbols then writing down on a piece of paper what each meant. She caught on to some of the things her son said to her, but for the most time, she was clueless.
"Better than usual, I would say." Laura said. "My nausea has gone down since last night, but I'm still tired even after my long nap."
Laura Tucker became pregnant with Craig at the young age of seventeen and gave birth to him the same year. The process was long and tiring and during her nine months, she struggled with not having miscarriages, her health not being in the best condition. When it finally came the time that she had to push the baby out, she was able to do so but it resulted in Laura passing away a few minutes later.
The moment Craig woke up in Purgatory, he laid eyes on the mother he never got the chance to meet. It was a difficult process to try to explain to Laura that he was her son - what with not being able to speak. But luckily the picture Craig would carry of his mother transferred to Purgatory with him, and all he had to do was show the picture to Laura and she finally understood. The situation was strange. Being older than his mother… meeting her for the first time in eighteen years. He felt so foreign conversing with the women, but it also felt like he's known her all his life.
After realizing her son was Craig, the question of why he was in the same place as her arose. She laid her head on her son's shoulder, blond hair flowing over his body, and she whispered the curiosity next to his ear. Craig became embarrassed. He couldn't tell his mother in whom he just met, why he was now dead. Craig wasn't supposed to die at the early age of eighteen. But then again, no one here really was.
One word Craig never learned to sign was the one he needed the most. So instead, he grabbed for a pad of paper that sat on the nightstand between their two beds. Gripping a pencil strongly in his hand, he scrawled the word 'suicide' across the paper. His mother gasped loudly, sitting up to look her son in his dark, brown eyes.
She should have guessed that's what happened. What with the strong purple bruising that rung around his neck and the long, tattered rope knotted in the same spot. But it was the fact that she had clarification. Tears welled up in Laura's eyes as she stared at her son. Craig signed off the words 'I'm sorry' even though she didn't understand.
They made an attempt to get to know each other. It seemed like the perfect time since they had forever. Craig discovered he was like his mother in many ways. They were both blunt when they wanted to be and liked to be alone for the most part. Laura had a very bad temper which her son only witnessed once, when she got furious at something Kenny McCormick did. That was all Craig needed to see to know not to piss Laura off.
The brown eyed boy grabbed the end of the rope that wasn't around his neck and tied a strong knot around his right wrist. He found the rope would never leave his body. The one time he successfully got it off, it reappeared the following morning when he woke up. It seemed like a constant embarrassment to Craig. The fact that he had to show case the deed he did to himself.
"Are you going out?" Laura asked.
Craig nodded. He jumped off his bed then made his way to exit the cottage. Not even bothering to slip his high-tops on, Craig simply left the home he shared with his mother.
He was on his way to the cottage Tweek lived in. They were the only eighteen year olds in Purgatory. It seemed like a bother and a blessing. For the longest time, Tweek only communicated with Kenny McCormick, whom he shared a cottage with. It pissed Craig off that he was spending all his time with an immature thirteen year old, when Tweek could have been with the noirette instead. It wouldn't be months until Tweek came to the Tucker's cottage and asked to see Craig.
Laura answered the door expecting young Karen to be behind it, but instead there stood Tweek with a stupid grin on his face and fresh blood leaking out of his wounds. Craig's mother never got out much due to her being lethargic most of the time, so she hadn't witnessed the blonde until then, and her reaction was priceless. The mother brought a hand to cover her mouth then screamed for Craig to come. When the noirette saw that Tweek stood outside his cottage, he couldn't help but smile lightly to himself. Taking in the striking features of the blonde.
He asked if he could talk to Craig and the two went out on a walk around Purgatory. They went out to a spot many residents never bothered to venture in, outside the village and into the forest of the thick, dead trees. Craig sat down on a stump, with one of his legs nudged against his chest and his head resting on top his knee. Tweek paced before him. Back and forth…brown hues followed the blonde. He wouldn't speak up for a few moments. Not until he grew uncomfortable with the silence.
"Can you speak?"
Craig lifted his head off his knee, glaring hastily at the blonde. He shook his head while frowning a bit.
Tweek cocked an eyebrow towards the sitting boy, stopping his movements, he moved his hands hesitantly – making sure he was making the correct symbols. All he did was sign off letters, but spelled a single word. 'Deaf.'
Craig took it as a question and again, shook his head then signed off himself. 'Mute.'
He watched the concentration on Tweek's face. The way the blonde mimicked the motions and mouthed the letters. After figuring it out, he nodded slowly. "So you're like Karen…"
Like Craig, Kenny's younger sister was mute. When he arrived and discovered someone who couldn't express words in the same way, he took it upon himself to teach the girl simple words and phrases in sign language. About once a week Karen would come over to his cottage for a new lesson. They would often find themselves having silent conversations that nobody else could understand. It was about the only thing the two shared.
Once Tweek discovered Craig couldn't speak, he made an attempt to visit more often, figuring the boy got lonely. But that was never the case. Craig liked the silence that surrounded him. It gave him a whole new meaning.
One night after many in the villagers went to sleep, Craig snuck out and met Tweek to the same spot they first sat at. The mute boy listened to the blonde tell one of his stories from when he was alive. That night, Craig learned about how Tweek died. The details were so raw, Craig found himself cringing at the point where the stabbings happened. He watched as Tweek seemed to recite the incident as though he were in a trance. His bright, emerald eyes glazed over, staring off somewhere behind where Craig sat on his tree stump.
After it was over, the noirette stood up and walked over to where Tweek sat in a pile of dead leaves. (It always made Craig wonder how there were dead leaves when none resided on the trees themselves.) His rope swung with every step he took and once he stood over the blonde, Tweek grabbed the rope and pulled so Craig would sit next to him. Dead leaves crunched under his weight as he sat down. The emerald eyed boy never let go of the rope, he held on to it as he leaned closer to the noirette.
This kiss was unlike any one Craig received when he was alive. It was too forced and full of unsteadiness. Cool lips moved over the pale ones Craig owned, teeth bit his bottom lip and the noirette let out a soft sigh. He smiled against Tweek's mouth, pulling away. His eyes fluttered to see the expression on the blonde's face. Emerald hues no longer seemed glazed and instead soft, tears came out. Craig asked what was wrong and Tweek only shook his head at him.
"Nothing…"
He pulled the mute boy back in for another kiss and this one ended up lasting longer, transitioning into more.
The cottage Tweek shared with the McCormick siblings turned out to be missing two of the residents. Only little Karen was inside, sleeping away. Harsh and struggled breathing sounded throughout the home, and it bothered Craig to listen to. He backed out of the cottage closing the door behind him, and decided to head back to his own. Spending the day with his mother would probably be better anyways.
Kyle admittedly was afraid to venture outside of the cottage. He pictured several dead persons walking around the village conversing amongst each other, and turning to stare at the redhead when he emerged. Never letting go of Stan's hand, the two followed Tweek and the other blonde outside.
The light blinded him. So white, it seemed unnatural. All around him everything was in various shades of grey – from the sky to the ground. He found that hardly anybody was outside aside from the four. Except for one individual who walked with a rope tied around their neck and right wrist, swinging with every step he made. It freaked Kyle out witnessing such a thing. Coughing roughly, black gunk came out his mouth like it always did.
The boy with the rope turned around at the sound of Kyle coughing. His brown eyes widened. Kyle took notice of the deep, purple bruising on smooth caramel skin underneath the rope around his neck. The boy wore all black – from his long sleeved shirt and black jeans to the same shade in his shaggy hair.
Tweek called out. "Craig! We've got newbies."
Kenny snickered at the comment and Kyle only snarled. He felt his boyfriend squeeze his hand, and he looked up to meet cobalt blue hues. Stan shrugged lightly, then continued to follow the two blondes.
When they got closer to Craig, the redhead's coughing got worse. A small sliver of the black substance ran out his mouth, stringing out until it fell and landed on the ground. It sounded with a loud crunch when it touched the dead grass.
The boy with the rope didn't say anything when they finally reached each other. He smiled at Tweek and waved gently to the other blonde. Tweek glanced back at Stan and Kyle, one hand resting on his hip.
"This is Craig. He's mute which explains why he isn't speaking. The poor boy committed suicide, just like you two did."
"Yeah!" Kenny interjected. "Only he hung himself instead of jumping off a bridge."
The fact that they were talking about it so openly bothered Kyle. The gash in the back of his head began to burn with excruciating pain. Quickly letting go of Stan's hand, the redhead cringed and went to touch the wound. He doubled over so he now knelt down, crying out in pain.
Stan looked over to the boy in shock. "Kyle!"
"It fucking hurts!" He yelled, grabbing a handful of his matted curls.
Tweek quickly walked over to the boy kneeling on the ground, looking closely at the wound in the back of his head. Blood mixed with a light yellow substance oozed out from within it. The blonde bit his lip trying to decide what to say.
"That doesn't look good… but…there really isn't much we can do about it, kid." Running a hand through his out-of-control hair, Tweek sighed. "I mean, it's really your own fault you're even in this place."
Standing up, Kyle balled his hands up into fists, anger overcoming his emotions, he suddenly ignored the pain. "You act like I don't know that! But you have no idea the shit I went through back there. This is was my only escape!"
Kenny cocked his head to the side, frowning at the redhead. "And yet you dragged your boyfriend with you?"
"Fuck off! It isn't any of your concern."
And with that, Kyle ran off back in the direction he came from. Running to the cottage he and Stan awoke from, he opened the door then shut it loudly. Stan looked around at everyone around him. Kenny was snickering to himself and the noirette with the rope was making various symbols with his hands to Tweek. Sighing, he then followed with a soft cough, and started after Kyle.
It was definitely going to take some time getting used to this place.