"...uh, Tweek?"
"What?!" Tweek jumps in his seat, nearly knocking his entire plate of uneaten dessert into his lap when he hits the edge of the dish with a trembling hand. His fork catapults up into the air for a moment before coming back down and hitting the table with a dull clatter, just barely missing his half-empty glass of water. Tearing his eyes from where he's been staring off into space, just over the top of the booth behind Thomas's left shoulder, the blonde whips his head around to his right. Craig is looking at him, but the concern on his boyfriend's face only makes Tweek feel even worse when, once again, he has to ask, "Um, did you s-say something?"
No, no, no. He sees something flicker in Craig's eyes when he stutters, and Tweek bites his tongue so hard he tastes blood, wishing he could rewind the last few seconds – if not the entire evening. They've only been here for just under a half hour or so, according to the digital clock hanging above the bar in the center of the restaurant, but it's felt like so much longer to Tweek. He's been so distracted that he's had to ask Craig to repeat himself every single time the noirette has said a word to him, but even with his lack of ability to focus he still hasn't missed the trace of hurt that flashes across Craig's face every time it happens.
Tweek wants so badly to be able to explain to him that it's not what it looks like – he's not staring at some other guy and missing everything Craig is saying because he doesn't want to be with him anymore – but he doesn't know how he's supposed to explain anything about Thomas without having to explain everything. And that's just something he doesn't think he can mentally handle right now. He's already changed his mind about telling Craig where he goes once a month. He'd been so ready, not even an hour ago, to finally tell him all about visiting his parents and maybe even trust him with a few of his other secrets, but now…everything is too different with Thomas here.
Squeezing both his hands into fists beneath the table, Tweek digs his nails into the skin of his palms while he tries his hardest to keep himself from hyperventilating. He needs to be– no, he needs to act normal. He'll never truly be normal, he's already painfully aware of that, but he's been faking it long enough that he should be able to have more control over himself than this. His skin prickles under the gaze of what feels like a hundred people, despite the fact that the only person whose eyes are on him right now is Craig; the other four people in the booth are all busy either talking to each other or, in Stan's case, silently eating their food. Tweek's eyes flick down to the untouched chocolate mousse mountain sitting on his plate again. Just the sight of it makes him nauseous.
He knows he should have just agreed to leave when Craig had given him the chance, before they'd even sat down. Not just because of Thomas and all of the emotional trauma he brings with him, but because of Stan, too. An icy chill of guilt envelops Tweek's heart, freezing his insides at the sudden thought of how unbelievably selfish he's being, forcing Craig to stay here, sitting across a table from someone who had assaulted him the way that Stan had. God, what the hell is wrong with him? Why is he such a horrible person that it's taken him this long to figure out that he's not the only one who's having a hard time? It's even worse when he realizes that Craig had left the decision on whether to stay or go back home entirely up to him, despite having the most reason in the world to demand to leave. He'd put what Tweek wanted first, again, just like he's been doing for the last eight months they've been together, and yet Tweek can't look past his own stupid self long enough to do the same for him.
Craig deserves so much better than me, Tweek thinks, not for the first time, swallowing hard against the sudden dryness of his throat. But again, just like every other instance where that thought has crossed his mind, he can't bring himself to actually do anything about it and let Craig go. Sometimes he wishes that Clyde had never forced them to meet each other in the first place because then he wouldn't be ruining Craig's entire life just by being a part of it; but at the same time, Tweek has never known the kind of happiness that he feels during those moments with Craig that everything seems perfect – when he can forget, for just a few minutes, about what an awful, broken, useless, narcissistic person he is.
It's not like Clyde or Kenny would have been offended in the least if he and Craig hadn't stayed tonight, and it wouldn't even have taken much, if any, of an explanation as to why. They would probably just assume that it all had to do with Stan being there, which would make sense, considering what they know about him – and what they don't know about Thomas. Or Michael, or whatever name it was that he'd given them.
Tweek can't stop the shiver that crawls its way up his spine when he thinks about that, and a tiny, tiny voice in the back of his mind tries to whisper to him that maybe he shouldn't be so hard on himself for not being at his best right now. After all, he's been clinically diagnosed with severe anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder thanks to his hell of a childhood, which can make certain things hard enough for him as it is; he'd gone to visit his horrendously abusive parents that morning and learned that there's apparently a chance that they could be getting out of prison, which opens up a myriad of awful possibilities for him; he's been lying to his incredibly sweet, supportive boyfriend about everything for months and making himself physically sick with guilt over it; and then, tonight, his ex had shown up with a fake name, dating someone both Tweek and Craig have an extremely negative history with, and told Tweek that he was here specifically to get him back – while also turning out to be Craig's new college roommate.
That would be enough to mess anyone up emotionally, even someone without the anxiety and PTSD. And his encounter with Thomas earlier had only left him feeling that much more shaken, so it's no wonder that Tweek isn't exactly operating with the best judgment at the moment. Thomas's last words to him in the bathroom keep running through his mind on a loop, but no matter how many times Tweek hears his internal voice say them, it still feels too impossible to be real.
"Next time I see your parents I'll tell them you say hi. They're going to be so happy we reconnected."
Never mind the fact that apparently Thomas has been keeping in contact with his parents – Tweek is still trying to make sense of the fact that Thomas is even here, not just in this restaurant but back in South Park at all. Tweek had honestly thought that he was never going to see him again, and while there was a time that that thought had broken his heart, years of one-on-one therapy with Dr. Zephyr had helped him see that the end of that relationship, Thomas cheating on him with Brad, had actually been one of the best things to have ever happened to him. He hadn't realized it at the time, but Thomas was just as, if not more, abusive to Tweek than his parents had been. He was just much better at hiding who he really was.
Looking back, Tweek doesn't understand how he could have been so blind to it all. Dr. Zephyr had told him that he shouldn't blame himself, and that it's not always easy to see when a relationship is headed down that path until it's already escalated. But still, Tweek can't help but think that there had to have been something, some sort of sign that he'd missed, because he had just been so happy to not have to be alone anymore…and didn't that make it his fault? Wouldn't that mean that Thomas had only been able to do all those things to him because Tweek had let him?
All those things…
For a moment, the interior of the restaurant seems to fade away, replaced by the inside of the house that Tweek sees whenever he closes his eyes – except right now, his eyes are wide open. Every single door in every single dimly-lit hallway is rattling like crazy, all those memories of his time with Thomas threatening to burst through and force Tweek to relive them over and over if he lets his guard down for even a second. He can hear them, scratching and clawing at the imaginary wood, whispering tauntingly to him; he's actually started to move his hands up to clap them over his ears in an attempt to drown out the noise when a gentle hand on his shoulder snaps him back to reality. Tweek blinks, clenching his fists tighter, his heart pounding as he tries to focus on the noirette next to him.
"Yeah, I, uh," Craig is saying, his voice soft, "I was just– you haven't eaten anything, so I just wanted to– are you doing okay?"
When he reaches up to run his fingers through his dark hair, Tweek can see that his hand is shaking a little bit. That only happens when he's really nervous, and seeing it now sends Tweek's heart plummeting down to the very bottom of his stomach. Oh, no. The last thing he wants to do right now is make it obvious that there's something wrong beyond him just being tired; that would only give Craig even more to worry about and Tweek just doesn't want to do that to him, not now, not ever.
"Hey, yeah," a voice comments from across the table before Tweek can say a word in response. Everything in his body is screaming at him not to, but still, he looks over at Thomas, who is leaning against the back of the booth, his arms folded across his chest. Nodding at the mousse on Tweek's plate, he asks, "Something wrong with your dessert, Twitch?"
His voice is laced with something that sounds a lot like concern, but there's something else underneath it, something far less kind that Tweek's ears pick up on instantly; but even more than how he's said it, it's what he's said that has the blonde dangerously close to spiraling into another panic attack. Twitch. He feels like he's going to throw up; Craig's hand slips off of his shoulder as he hunches forwards, his vision blurring at the edges. No, no, no, he can't lose it, not here, not in a restaurant full of people, but especially not around Craig. He can't, he can't, he can't, he's already come so close to ruining everything already, there's no way that Craig will stay – there's no way he could ever still love him – if he finds out just how much Tweek has been keeping from him.
"Don't call him that," Craig snaps, the harshness of his voice making Tweek flinch, even though it's not directed towards him in any way.
He slides an arm around the blonde's shoulders protectively, unaware of the tears that fill Tweek's eyes at the gesture – both because he doesn't think he deserves to be treated this way, and because despite Craig not having idea of the story behind the nickname, no context as to why Tweek had such a visceral reaction to hearing it, he's defending him against it like it's an obvious thing to do. God, he's always doing things like this – comforting Tweek when he wakes up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, helping him practice his calming breathing techniques, giving him the most touching, meaningful birthday gift ever. And all of it without even a second of hesitation.
Tweek is never going to understand what Craig sees in him – how he can possibly look at him every day and see someone worth caring about to the extent that he does.
"Why not?" Again without entirely meaning or wanting to, Tweek's gaze wanders back to Thomas, goosebumps rising on his skin when he sees that Thomas is staring right back at him. Something gleams in his eyes that Tweek can't decipher, but clearly his body recognizes it as something dangerous, because his system immediately hits him with an intense urge to run. Keeping his gaze locked on Tweek, Thomas adds, "That's his name, isn't it?" One corner of his mouth turns up a fraction in a subtle, barely-there smirk, and Tweek wants to scream.
"No!" Clyde pipes up as he aims a spoonful of his caramel pecan cheesecake into Kenny's mouth, completely oblivious to the tension blanketing the other side of the table. "Close, though! That's Tweek. Tweek," he repeats slowly for emphasis, drawing out the name to the point where it sounds like there are about fifteen extra 'e's in it.
"Ohhh, Tweek," Thomas says, like he's never heard the name before in his life. The sound of him saying it makes Tweek's skin crawl. "Huh, my bad, must have heard it wrong," he muses, swiping a hand through his tri-colored hair. "That's…different. Kinda weird, though, I mean, what kind of parents would name their kid after a drug addict?"
He leans forward to take a sip of his drink, but just before his lips touch the straw, Tweek can see him smile, and it's the most chilling thing he's seen in a really long time – even worse than the looks on his parents' faces today when they'd been talking about potential parole, and–
Oh, God, no, what if…?
His whole body begins to tremble uncontrollably as a horrifying thought floods his brain, one that he can't believe had taken so long to materialize in his mind. He's stupid, he's so stupid, for not thinking of this before and for not getting the hell out of this place the second he'd seen Thomas sitting in the booth when they'd first arrived. He should have known better. He should have known.
Craig's arm tightens around his shoulders as the noirette slides closer; he reaches out to cup one of Tweek's hands in his, rubbing slow circles into the spot just below his thumb, but Tweek barely even feels it. His heart is racing, but his mind is racing faster, putting a bunch of mental puzzle pieces together to form a horrifying picture that makes his blood run cold.
It's Thomas. He's the one that's helping his parents with their parole, or at the very least he's involved somehow. He has to be. It's the only way anything makes any sense to Tweek. Thomas has always been pretty well-connected, and he has an insane amount of charisma; in rehab, he'd been able to charm his way into getting almost anything he wanted; it's not a stretch to think that he knows a lawyer or two who doesn't care about being involved with something shady as long as they get paid.
Tweek had left this part out, when he had first mentioned him to Craig, but his parents had absolutely adored Thomas, from the moment he and Tweek had first become friends. He knows there's no way they would have let the two of them spend any time together alone in that basement if they hadn't. And it was only when Thomas was around that Tweek's dad would feed him anything other than day-old drug-laced sandwiches and pastries from the shop. Sometimes he would even bring them pizza, but Tweek had learned very quickly not to try to hide any extra pieces for later.
Tweek's mom loved Thomas even more than his dad did, though. She was constantly fussing over him, asking him questions about his day and what kinds of things he liked to do and how he was feeling. It was like he was more her son than Tweek was. It was his mom who had first mentioned that maybe Thomas would also like to learn how to work the espresso machine, and maybe he could help Richard out in the back room, organizing all the bags of coffee, if he would like to do that – and of course they would pay him, they wouldn't dream of putting him to work without compensating him for it.
After his parents had gone to jail, before he'd been sent off to rehab, Tweek had been going through some of their things. He still doesn't really know why; Dr. Zephyr had had a theory that he was searching for some shred of proof that they'd ever truly cared about him, but that's one thing that he and his therapist definitely disagree on. Because Tweek knows – he's always known – that the only thing his parents ever cared about when it came to him was whether or not they could control him – and how to punish him when they couldn't. That had been more than evident when he'd come across his dad's will, which stated that upon his death, the coffee shop, the house, and every penny of his savings were to go to Thomas. Not Tweek. Not his actual son, but Thomas.
But none of that was Thomas's fault, he'd told himself. He was just a kid like Tweek, a victim. It would be unfair of him to be angry with Thomas just because his parents had decided that they preferred him, and that he deserved better treatment than their own flesh and blood. There was nothing that Thomas could have done about it; and truthfully, if their positions had been switched, could Tweek honestly say that he wouldn't have done exactly what Thomas did, just accept the attention and special treatment? No, he couldn't. Thomas was a good person who had just unfortunately gotten mixed up with some very bad people.
Tweek knows better than that now, obviously. He knows that Thomas is not a good person, and that he is in fact one of those very bad people himself. He wonders if Thomas knows about the will. He must, if he's been in contact with them all these years. The whole time he and Tweek were officially dating, he was probably visiting Tweek's parents in the prison and giving them all sorts of information on Tweek. That had to be why they'd never looked surprised by any of the things Tweek would tell them during his monthly visits, back when he used to actually tell them things at all. They'd already heard it all from Thomas.
And now he's here, which means… Oh, no.
"Move," Tweek blurts out, his voice much louder than he intends it to be, as he turns halfway in the booth and pushes against Craig with both hands with all of his strength. "N-now, I have to–" His stomach is spinning so fast it feels like there's a miniature tornado of acid inside him but it's not even the fear of puking his guts out in public that is the cause of his sudden urgency. He needs to leave, Craig needs to leave, Craig needs to get away from him– No, Tweek is the one that needs to get away from Craig, before something bad happens to him. Now that Thomas is here and has found him and knows that Tweek is dating someone else…it's only a matter of time before that information gets back to Tweek's parents, and God only knows what they'll do with it.
"Whoa, hey." Craig immediately takes his arm away from Tweek's shoulders and slides out of the booth. He holds out a hand to help the blonde out too, but Tweek doesn't take it; he doesn't even see it, nor the look on Craig's face when he stumbles out of the booth on his own, nearly tripping and falling on his own face in his hurry. "Do you, uh, do you want me to take you home?"
"No!" Oh, God, that had also been way too loud, now everyone's going to be looking at him. Tweek holds one hand up to his face, using it as a shield to keep himself from looking at Craig. He can't look at him right now or else he's going to completely fall apart and he can't afford to do that, not until he's alone. The way that he should be. At least if he's alone, the only person that can get hurt is him. "No, I n-need– I can't–" He inhales the deepest breath that he can, his lungs screaming at him in protest for having the audacity to try and breathe. He can already feel the tears springing up in the corners of his eyes and the part of him that really, truly does love Craig with everything he has is begging him not to do what he's about to do, but he knows that there's no other way. He has to keep Craig safe, and this is the only way he can. "I c-can't do this." Tweek reaches up, pulling the chullo – Craig's chullo, not his, not anymore – off his head, his resolve nearly shattering into pieces as he lets it fall to the ground. "I'm s– I'm s–"
"Tweek–"
Tweek can't even get his apology all the way out before he hears Craig say his name, and the note of confused desperation in the noirette's tone feels like a fiery knife to his heart. Without another word, and not even a glance over his shoulder to see what Thomas thinks of this whole display, Tweek takes off, sprinting as fast as his shaky legs will take him through the restaurant, past the bathrooms, and out the doors into the night.
I'm so sorry.