A/N: I actually only had about 400 words of this written a few days ago, but over the last couple of days I've had a large burst of motivation for writing. Which is great; I'm going to make the most of it before I get more college work to do!

Quick note: If you are reading this purely for romance, I'm afraid you will be disappointed. In case you couldn't tell from the previous chapter, I'm not making romance a main theme to this story. It was my original idea but I decided to make this much more of a realistic story, highlighting issues that people face - including a lack of romantic attraction, like Craig is clearly facing. I'm sorry if this is an issue for anyone, but considering this story will end soon, it's a bit late to change my plans.

Anyway, thank you for reading that note. I hope you enjoy the chapter!


Returned

Chapter Eight - A Tough Decision


The only sound in Tweek's bedroom that night was his soft breaths and the scratching of pen on paper. He knew exactly how he felt and was beginning to see no reason to write it down, but something made him continue it. Perhaps it was the nagging voice of one of his old therapists.

So I had a date with Craig today. I was hoping it would go well, but… Yeah. All those stories about how relationships develop on their own don't exactly work for everyone. Craig said himself he doesn't know how he feels about me. I don't blame him for that, and that's not in a way that I'm feeling sorry for myself. We can't control how our heart feels. I can't control that I have feelings for him and he can't make himself feel the same way about me. Obviously that hurts, but I don't think I could even cope in a relationship. Some things just aren't supposed to happen no matter how much you want them to. I'm starting to learn that now.

I also seem to be seeing more of reality, yet I still have images of impossible things happening. It's a strange combination and it's definitely not a good one. I still feel anxious over everything. My future, my health, our money… I just can't live a life of being calm and happy. My happiness is only brief, only lingering when I'm distracted. I want to go to therapy but we're struggling too much for that. It's scary, that I'm expected to sort out my health to go to work so I can earn money, yet I need money to sort out my health. Why is everything so complicated?

I sound like a depressed teenager now overthinking about the flaws in life. But I guess that's really what I am.

His writing stopped. His eyes read over the words he had just written. One single tear fell onto the paper, smudging some of the drying ink. How was this helping? It was just a reminder that his mind was screwed up and he couldn't even afford the help he needs.

Barely thinking about his actions, he threw the book across the room, wincing when it hit the wall and made a rather audible noise. He hoped that it didn't disrupt his parents' slumber but at the same time he didn't care. He just felt angry. Angry that he had fallen for someone who didn't like him back, angry that he wasn't receiving, angry at not being normal… He was just angry at everything. Perhaps he had just felt sadness for so long that there was no room for anymore and it had no choice but be replaced by anger.

He turned off his lamp and fell back against his pillow, his eyes staring at the ceiling in the darkness. This was going to be a long night.


The following day, Mrs Tweak was placing a pile of freshly washed and ironed clothing onto Tweek's bed when her eyes flickered over at the journal lying on the floor. She walked over to pick it up, seeing that it had landed on its pages, exactly on the most recently written page. Her eyes betrayed her as they read the letters written in surprisingly neat handwriting. She breathed in sharply. Sometimes it was hard for her to tell how her son was feeling, with how much he could close himself off from her. Hugging the journal against her chest, she headed back down the stairs towards the dining room, where her husband was sitting down with a mug of coffee as he read a newspaper. He looked up when she entered, frowning when he saw her expression.

"What's wrong, darling?" he asked.

"Tweek's journal was on the floor, and…" she hesitated, biting her lip. "He's crying out for help, honey. He seems awfully depressed."

"I thought the therapist who told him to write that journal also said that only he should be the one to read it?"

A pang of guilt went through her. "Yes, I know that. But the book was on the floor on these pages, and… I just couldn't stop myself."

Her husband sighed, brushing back his hair off his forehead. He gestured to the journal.

"Well, if you've already read it, I might as well too."

She nodded, handing him the journal. He shifted his glasses back into their correct position so he was able to read his son's words properly. After he had read the page – and also the page beforehand – he looked just as stricken as his wife.

"See? He's struggling. But we can't afford therapy for him, not since our business started going down," she said. "So what do we do for him?"

"Maybe him returning to the hospital is the best option. It was much more affordable than the prices our town charges."

"But it caused him so much grief last time. I don't want us to be the parents he would hate us to be, Richard. I just want him to be happy."

"He needs to get better to be happy."

"We can't force him to do things anymore, though," she said, tears starting to sting her eyes. "We already caused him pain when we tried to help him get better. I don't want to do that again."

"We won't be forcing him to do anything," he sighed, getting out of his chair to put a reassuring arm around his wife's shoulders. "I won't make him go back if he doesn't want to. We'll talk to him when he gets home and see what he thinks is the best option. If he doesn't want to go, we'll think of something else."

She nodded, resting her head on her husband's shoulders. "I just want him to be happy."

"As do I," he responded, closing his eyes as he ran his hand through her hair, silently praying to any god out there that their wishes would be answered and that they would finally be able to do the right thing for their only child.


The last period of the day was an art lesson; one of the few classes that Craig and Tweek shared. Since the previous day, there was a slight awkwardness between them. It wasn't exactly a tension as they both understood one another, but it definitely wasn't the most comfortable of situations. Luckily, art was subject that they both thoroughly enjoyed, so at least that provided a distraction to how awkward they felt.

Both were feeling somewhat upset, a rare emotion for someone like Craig, though it was mainly guilt that was overtaking everything else he felt. He wished that it was just like a typical love story. Feelings are confessed and returned, and that's it. Love develops from a happy and healthy relationship. It's in every book, every show, just everywhere. He hated how that wasn't the case. If he could make himself fall for Tweek he would have already done so. That would have made all of this ten times easier for both of them.

Unfortunately, life clearly wasn't a story and didn't make it easy.

He had briefly thought about asking Tweek if he wanted to go on another date, but what was the point if Craig didn't feel the same way as Tweek? Of course, if feelings did develop, Craig would be more than happy to suggest a second date. He just didn't want to get Tweek's hopes up over nothing.

They were silent through the whole of the lesson, though they did say goodbye, even if that, like the lesson itself, was slightly awkward. They parted ways as they began to make their way home.

Craig wasn't the only one who was glad that it was over; Tweek was the same. It was hard to concentrate when the person he just wanted to be held by and to kiss was clearly uncomfortable, his thoughts of Tweek completely different. He told himself not to allow it to make him too upset, however; these things happen and it had to move on from that. Unfortunately, words were easier than actions, but he knew it was what he had to do.

His parents seemed distraught when he entered his house, which made the frown on his face be there for an entirely different reason than previously.

"Mom, dad? I-Is everything all right?" he asked. There was a slight pause before any words were spoken, though it was his father who ended the silence.

"Can we please talk to you?"

Tweek nodded, sitting down on the lounge's sofa next to them. "W-What is it?"

"When I went to put some of your clothes on your bed for you, I saw your journal lying on the floor…"

"Y-You didn't read it, did you?" he panicked, staring at her with wide eyes. The hesitation said it all. "Th-That's supposed to be private! No one should read that except m-me!"

"I know honey, I'm sorry for that," she said. "I didn't mean to. But in a way, I'm glad that I did, Tweek. You never open up to us about how you're feeling and I wouldn't have understood just how much pain you're in if I hadn't read it."

"We want to help you, Tweek," his father said. "Though you may think we're against you sometimes, we love you. We just want to help you and do what's best for you."

"I-I know that now. I just… I don't know what to d-do."

"We want you to go back to therapy, Tweek, we really do," Tweek's mother said, a hint of desperation evident in her voice. "But we just can't afford it. The prices this town charges are incredible, and we just can't afford you to travel constantly to the nearest town."

"I know. I-I was thinking that maybe I'd…"

His words drifted off. He knew that the best way for him to get help would be to go back to the institution. The doctors themselves were well-trained and he was sure they could provide help; it was only the other teenagers living there which caused him problems. The place charged as little as possible for their work, much cheaper than the overpriced help from South Park and the cost of travelling weekly to another town or city to get therapy there. Never had he despised living in a town in the middle of nowhere, but now he found himself hating every ounce of it.

However, even though he was fully aware of what the most sensible option was, he couldn't bring himself to say it aloud. Thinking it to himself was one thing; confirming it by talking to others was entirely different.

"If you go back, you mean?" his father questioned. A slow nod was initially the only reply. "We talked about that while you were at school, but…"

"We didn't want to push you into doing anything you are uncomfortable with," his mother finished for her husband. "We've done too much of that since you returned home. Actually, we've done that too much your whole life. All we've ever wanted was what is best for you, but we never realised just how much we were hurting you in the process. So we won't make you do anything you don't want to anymore; you're old enough to make your own decisions. We're only here now to support and guide you."

Tweek nodded again, biting his lip. "I-I don't really know what I want to do."

"Take as much time as you need thinking over it," his father said, trying to smile reassuringly. "We don't mind if you need a while."

"Thank you," Tweek responded. Managing to give his parents a small smile, he exited the room and made his way up the stairs. After dropping his rucksack down onto the floor, he fell down onto the bed, a large sigh escaping his lips. Sometimes he wished he was a child again. Life had never been easy, but at least he didn't have to make life-changing decisions back then.

His fingers trailed into his pocket and grabbed onto his phone. He sat up before he unlocked it, his finger hovering over the call button next to Craig's contact. After the awkwardness that was last period, he wasn't sure if Craig would be in the right mood to give him advice. But considering he didn't feel quite as close to Token and Clyde as he did Craig, he didn't know who else he could talk to about something so serious.

Before he could change his mind, his finger touched the screen. Gulping, he raised the phone to his ear, silently praying that Craig would pick up. He had to hold in a sigh of relief when he heard the familiar voice of his friend.

"Hey."

"H-Hey," Tweek greeted. "Um…"

"Is everything okay?"

He almost laughed. Had he really sought help so many times that it was what Craig automatically though Tweek needed when he called? Saying that, it almost always was.

"W-Well, no. I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you, it's just…"

"It's fine, you're not bothering me. Can I help with anything?"

"I just need your advice on something. D-Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?"

"Of course I do."

"W-Well, my parents and I are thinking that the best way for the three of us is for me to go back. And… yeah. I wanted your opinion. So-Sorry if that's a lot to ask."

There was a pause. "Go back to the hospital?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Wow, uh… I didn't realise it was something you were seriously considering. Do you mean go back soon?"

"As soon as possible, r-really. I know it's the most sensible option, I-I just wanted your opinion."

"I'd say do whatever will help you the most in the long run. But didn't you hate it there?"

"I did, but… W-Well, my options are pretty limited." He ran his spare hand through his hair. Craig's voice, like always, was helping to calm him, but he was still starting to regret making this phone call. "I really shouldn't have called, I-I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, if you want advice, then advice you'll get. If you feel like this would help you, then I'd say you should go back. But make sure that you're certain it will, first. You said yourself that the two years you spent there only helped you a bit, with how the others there were. I don't want you to waste your life somewhere which just makes you worse. Basically, go if you think it'd help you, but stay if you think it won't."

Even though Craig couldn't see him, Tweek nodded and smiled regardless. "I think it will. I-It's time to face my problems rather than run away from them."

"I'm proud of you for that, Tweek. But can you promise me one thing?"

"What is it?"

"Don't just vanish like you did last time. I want to say goodbye – as will Token and Clyde. That way, we know that you'll be coming back one day."

"O-Of course I will," Tweek promised, his hand gripping onto the phone tighter. "Thank you for your help."

"It's not a problem. Tell me when you know you're going. It'd be nice to spend time together before you go."

"It will be. I-I better go and let my parents know. Thank you again."

"You're welcome. See you."

"B-Bye."

He ended the call, breathing in deeply. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders now that he had made his decision – he just had to hope it would be the right one.

Burying the phone back inside his pocket, he made his way back down to his parents, who looked up as he entered the lounge.

"I'm going to go back," he said, surprising himself at how the usual stuttering of his voice was replaced with feigned confidence. No words were spoken as his parents rose off the sofa and wrapped him into their arms. His hands grasped at the clothing on their backs as his eyes closed. He had missed the warmth of their embrace – it was too bad that he was separating himself from that again.


A/N: I'm afraid that this story will probably only have two more chapters. I don't want it to stretch on too long and after starting college, I don't really have time for two fanfics at once - at least, two fanfics being updated more than once a month. So I want to end this one, focus on my other one and then when that is done, I'll be writing another SP story featuring my favourite pairing, Damien and Pip! It's probably one of my best ideas and I'm so excited to start it when I can.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and any reviews would be appreciated as they really do help to boost my motivation to write.