After what happened the day before, so many eyes were on Timmy in class, looking at him with despise, because of the horrible things he had said; sadness, because there was something broken between him and his friends which needed to be fixed...And then there was Tweek, staring at Timmy with fear.
He had not slept that night, thinking that...No, it was impossible...It had to be a coincidence...wasn't it? But...what if it wasn't? What if somehow he knew...?
He was still hesitant when he arrived to school, but there and then he made the decision of trying something. Only that way he would find peace.
He turned his eyes to the blackboard and started thinking as loudly as he could: (MY, WHAT BIG TITTIES CARTMAN HAS!). And his attention moved to Timmy, his reactions.
There was a reaction indeed. He turned his big head towards Tweek and looked at him with a slight frown and a small smile on his face. Tweek pretended he was not seeing it because he was taking notes, but he had seen that, and he needed a confirmation.
(THEY'RE BIGGER THAN MOM'S. HEIDI MUST HAVE FELT LIKE A LESBIAN EVERY TIME SHE MADE OUT WITH HIM)
"Pffft!" Timmy couldn't help it and had to cover his mouth and barely repress a laughter.
"Quiet, children." Mr. Garrison reprimanded everyone in general, since he had his back turned on them and didn't see who made that sound.
While some looked at Timmy with a bit of scorn, wondering what the heck that prick was laughing about, Tweek could even feel his blood freeze inside of his veins.
(...T-Timmy? C-C-Can you hear me?...)
And then Timmy's voice spoke. He didn't know how, but he heard his voice inside of his head.
(I'm hearing you)
"GAH!" Tweek made his desk jump with him, and interrupted the class.
"What's the matter with you, Tweek?" Mr. Garrison turned around and looked at him with an angry face.
"N-Nothing, I-I mean, I just... I mean...Sorry..." Tweek babbled, sitting down correctly again. He was so pale he couldn't even blush.
Craig and Token looked at him with interrogative expressions, he convinced them with gestures it was just one of his fits. He turned his head again toward Timmy and found him looking at him with a tiny smile.
(It's alright, Tweek. Calm down. That was funny), his voice sounded so placid, so unaffected, as if this was normal to him—but it wasn't normal; it was everything but normal.
(BUT HOW, MAN, WHA-HOW-HOW DID YOU...?)
(Calm down, I said)
It was strange, but that order had an effect on Tweek. Quite quickly, his heart rate lowered and the boy stopped trembling like there was an earthquake inside his bones. His breathing returned to a calm pattern and finally shut his mouth.
Yes...There was no reason to feel anxious...
Nothing was wrong...
It was funny...He was only left in this state after a long session of meditation, and Timmy's words helped him reach it in a matter of seconds...
(This will be our little secret. You scratch my back, I scratch yours), Timmy smiled at him.
Tweek nodded and turned his head back to the blackboard. Timmy did too.
«Hi, sweetie!»
«I re-wrote Call Girl's backstory, wanna see it?»
Sweetie...It was the first time a girl, not an old lady or a mom, but a girl, called him that, texted him frequently and using emojis filled with hearts. It was the first time he kissed one, held hands with one...It was so sweet. It had his heart pounding like a drum and made him want to fly. He had always dreamed about getting a girl's attention, and Wendy, oh, Wendy was amazing, everything he had always wanted in a girlfriend.
He owed so much to his new ability. Without it, Wendy would have just ignored him, saw him like an ex-disabled, a freak, just like everyone else...
That was the cloud in his perfect life, with open horizons and sunshine...
He had won Wendy, but he had lost his friends. He had said he didn't care, it was good to see people's true colors, but...What did being abled matter if he had no friends to play with, to joke around?
Lying in bed, he caressed Gobbles' feathers. Did turkeys think? He had never tried, so he did the experiment.
He didn't get actual thoughts but feelings, sensations. Gobbles liked to be caressed. Felt good. Hungry, though.
"Are you hungry, Gobbles?" Timmy smiled, and got up from bed with the bird in his arms to feed him.
Perhaps his condition was both the problem and the solution. He had seen it with Wendy and Tweek. He could change the way people perceived things.
He could...make them like him as he was now, forgive him...
As he filled Gobbles' bowl with his birdseed, Timmy nodded to himself.
There was no reason to feel sad or angry. He was not a slave of his circumstances anymore. He could shape reality into whatever he wanted.
The sound of the door of the fridge closing attracted Timmy's attention. His mother was making dinner, humming. Their kitchen looked nothing like the ones his friends had at home: it was adapted to a whole family moving around in wheelchairs; a quite expensive adaptation, and there were still things they couldn't do due to their illness affecting their grip on objects.
"Do you want me to help you, mom?" Timmy asked, standing up.
"Helen, Helen." His mother shook her head with a smile and continued to work.
Timmy was glad he was abled now, he could help his parents with tasks they had difficulty with. But...Parents were supposed to take care of their children, not vice versa. And...Seeing himself run, jump and walk while his parents were still bound to their wheelchairs brought Timmy a strange kind of sadness. He knew they were so proud of him and were happy to see him being able to do all the things they never could. But it wasn't fair. Why hadn't they changed, being much older than him? Why they showed no progress? He wanted them to know what it was like, not depending on that thing to move around, to talk and being understood by everyone...
Seeing his mother make dinner as well as she could gave him the idea. If his power changed everybody's minds, it had to change theirs too. If it couldn't, how good was it?
If it worked, he would change Jimmy too. He would make him abled. That way he wouldn't feel jealous of his progress and they would be friends again.
He focused on his mother's big head, vessel of the brain. He pictured it, and he imagined himself kneading it like dough, shaping it at will.
(Get up and walk, Mom)
Mrs. Burch suddenly saw how the wheelchair she was sat on was propelled backwards while she remained sat in the air. She screamed as her body moved by its own will, forcing her into a standing posture.
There was something wrong. Timmy had difficulty getting into her brain. Perhaps it was too damaged for him to hack it, or the connections were not well established. He felt it was so tiring to keep her standing, like it consumed too much energy.
Mrs. Burch turned her head to him and Timmy noted how realization hit her like a truck. Her son was doing this. It was him!
"T-Timmy!" She exclaimed.
There was no good surprise in her eyes, her voice, her face, her mind. Only horror. Timmy's expression changed. She was not happy. She was scared—of him.
He let go all control of her, causing her to drop on the floor like a puppet with no strings and drew back.
"Timmy!" His mother reached out for him, but he kept drawing back. Avoiding her, he darted towards the door.
"Timmy!" She kept calling him, and her screams were what caught the neighbors' attention.
Realization also hit Tweek hard in his bedroom, reading comics.
Everyone had noted that day that Tweek was...well...unusually calm. Not screaming, not letting out gasps and exclamations, not shaking. Just relaxed, as if nothing was wrong in his little, damaged brain.
That unusual state continued until late in the afternoon. Then, suddenly, Tweek raised his eyes from the comic and remembered he had a good reason to panic.
Timmy. He could read minds. WHY WAS HE NOT FREAKING OUT BY THAT?
"Oh, my freaking Jesus..." He muttered, standing up from the carpet.
His first impulse was to grab his phone and tell the gang about it. But would they believe him or would they think he was suffering a caffeine overdose again? How could he explain it to them? In other words, what on earth could he do with that information?
It was then when he heard something hitting the window. He approached to look through it and who did he see? No other than Timmy himself, with a few pebbles in his hand.
"Tweek! I-I need to talk to you!" He said.
"Uh...Uh...I-I'm coming!" Tweek said, and he quickly ran downstairs to meet him. Not even questioning it was a bad idea, perhaps, to be alone with Timmy after what he knew he could do.
There was something wrong. One had to be blind not to see it, when he finally got there. Timmy was still panting, as if he had been running, and he looked pretty scared, which contributed to scare Tweek even more than he was.
"I did something bad and I didn't know what to do, who to call..." Timmy said.
"W-What did you do?" Tweek asked.
"I thought I could change people, and I can, but...I'm not sure if this is a good thing...People are scared of me...They think I'm a monster...Soon all of South Park will know and..."
"What did you do, Timmy?"
"I didn't want to hurt my mom, I just wanted to help her!"
Good Lord, Timmy was scared, but that didn't ease Tweek. Did he just hurt his mother? Whatever had happened, it had to be big. He had also admitted he could change people. Tweek didn't know what that meant exactly, but something told him it could explain his sudden relationship with Wendy...One thing was clear to him: Timmy, right then, was dangerous and he had to do something.
"They're looking for me, you have to hide me! Please! I'm sorry for what I said to you...I didn't mean it...Please...This is not fun anymore...I..." Timmy hugged Tweek, making him cringe.
"S-Sure, Timmy, you're forgiven..."
(Don't think it. Don't think it. Just do it. Lalalalalala...), he tried to block his mind, as his eyes looked for the rake next to him.
Just one hit, and Timmy...Well, he could kill him! But he could win some time to call the police or his parents...
"I'll help you..." Tweek muttered, his fingers grazing the rake.
Timmy's pleas suddenly stopped, and he squeezed his friend tighter.
"...You bastard..." Timmy growled.
And Tweek felt as if he had been pushed into a pool of freezing water, making him open his mouth and eyes wide. Timmy broke the hug to look at him with a different expression. An expression of fury.
"You were going to attack me...You wanted to hurt me!"
Tweek was about to call his name, but he was unable to. He couldn't move a muscle. Air seemed stuck inside of his lungs. And Timmy watched it.
"...You think I'm a freak too..."
After giving him a last look, shaking his head with disappointment, Timmy ran away, leaving Tweek stuck in that posture.
It wasn't until fifteen minutes later when his father found him.
"Ah! Here you are! I've been looking for you all over the house! Dinner is served!"
But Tweek didn't move.
"Tweek. Come on now. You'll play statues later."
If he was pretending to be one, he was talented at it, because he didn't blink, he didn't move an inch.
"Tweek."
When he placed a hand on his shoulder, Tweek lost balance and fell backwards, his eyes and mouth still open as much as it was possible.