Tweek

That bruise… The lockers, right?

Who pushed you?

With a groan, Tweek rolled over and covered his ears, twitching as he did so. His brain kept playing the same moments over and over again like a broken record and he didn't get it. Why had Craig been so calm? Why had he gotten so angry? WHY HAD HE ONLY SPOKEN A TOTAL OF SEVEN WORDS BEFORE SAYING HE WAS GOING HOME?! It was too much!

Tweek let out another moan of distress. That wasn't how it was supposed to go, Craig had been about to fight him, right? That's what Stan and Kyle had said. That's what Craig had looked like he wanted to do. But he hadn't, he'd just asked about Tweek's face and then left. The blond couldn't handle it, he needed something more! Was Craig upset he was bruised? Was he mad that Cartman hadn't finished the job? Did he not want to fight because he thought Tweek's injury gave him a disadvantage? WHAT WAS IT?

Tugging on his hair lightly, Tweek muttered aloud, "Why did this have to happen t-to me?" In his moments of calm, he knew that Craig probably didn't want to fight. If he had, he would have punched Tweek then and there. The fact that he hadn't proved that Craig had some other motive besides violence. Tweek just hoped that continued. He didn't want to die, he just wanted to go back to being unnoticed.

People didn't talk to him after all; just Kenny and that had always been a mystery. No one, not even his parents, cared enough to ask where he'd gotten his latest bruises; no one even glanced at him when he acted up. Mostly, Tweek didn't mind, but sometimes the things in his head got so loud, he wanted to beg for someone to drown out the screaming in his own skull.

Except no one had talked to him, Craig had just stared at him impassively day after day, as if that was going to make Tweek feel any better. It scared him because out of all the kids in his class, he'd never expected to get Craig's attention. Craig was friends with people like Clyde and Token. He was friends with the cooler people, people nicer than Cartman's gang. There he'd be, standing above them with that old blue jacket and hat and hands in his pockets, so casual, not giving a fuck about anything.

Craig wasn't supposed to stare at him, he wasn't supposed to speak to him. Rolling over again so he could press his face into the bed, Tweek asked his empty room, "Is this Karma? Did I do something?" Other than being a stain on other people's existence, that is. I'm nothing but a spaz, a freak.

So maybe that's what this was, entertainment for the bastards that attended his school. They'd have him fight one of the toughest, most intimidating people in the school and watch because it was amusing. With lies and underhanded tactics, they'd convince Craig to grind Tweek to a bloody pulp that would simply be picked away by the birds.

Or maybe Craig really was in on it, maybe Craig wanted to see Tweek hurt. The boy still didn't have a good explanation for why the Noirette had spent all of this year so far staring at the back of his head. If it wasn't because he wanted to kill Tweek then what could it be? Maybe Craig really had chosen Tweek to fight and the blond had no hope but to roll over and hope it wouldn't hurt too much.

If that was the case, if Craig honestly did want a fight and the other kids weren't just making things up, Tweek was going to fight back for all he was worth.

But I'm still going to lose. IT'S ALL TOO MUCH PRESSURE!

Reaching out a shaking hand blindly, Tweek fumbled around for his thermos, which rested on his bedside table. He needed something to help calm him down, if he thought about Craig anymore, his head was going to explode. Wait, is that a real thing?! With renewed vigor, Tweek scrambled around helplessly for a moment before his fingers closed around the slightly warm metal of what he was looking for.

It was at that moment the doorbell rang.

With a scream and a loud cry of, "SWEET JESUS!" Tweek tumbled off of his bed, cracking his head hard on his bedroom floor.

As his vision cleared and someone calling out his name floated past his ears, Tweek realized he was facing the gap between his bed and the floor and screamed. No! The monsters will catch me! They know I've seen their lair now they're going to drag me in and eat me oh GOD!

Scrambling to his feet quickly and backing up till he'd put a good three yards between himself and his bed, Tweek struggled to take a deep breath while his lungs refused to work. What am I doing? Okay, okay, the bell had rung. Tweek gulped down a lungful of air. Someone had called his name, he hadn't imaged that, had he?

As if to confirm his suspicions, he heard someone from outside yell, "Tweek?" Making a dash for the window of his room, Tweek pushed one of his toy chests under the sill and struggled to open the window with trembling fingers. It was harder than one might think, and by the time he actually managed to open it, he felt like he was on the brink of a panic attack. Who's even here!?

Thrusting his head out of the window, Tweek caught sight of two unfortunately familiar faces and let out a cry of fear. "ACK! W-What do you guys want?!" It was Kyle and Stan, both looking up at him expectantly as if he'd screwed up. WHY ARE THEY HERE!? Then he remembered. The fight, the agreement he'd made with them. Then leaving before he actually fought anyone. OH GOD, they're probably pissed at me!

Almost like Stan had read his mind, he called up, "How come you didn't show up for the fight, Tweek?!" I was there! He wanted to shriek. I was there and so was Craig! But he couldn't tell them about it, he had no idea what would happen if he did. What if Craig got upset with him? What if the other boys made him fight someone else? He couldn't take the pressure!

So instead he tried his best to be reasonable. "Craig and I have no reason to fight each other!" he squeaked, trembling under their intense gazes. It was true, they didn't. Craig had proved that today when he'd talked to Tweek. Unless Craig really did want to fight, then Tweek didn't have a reason to be upset. The other boys had probably just been making things up, right?

Kyle raised his eyebrows. "Well, Craig showed up." Stan nodded wisely in agreement. Tweek meanwhile let out a whimper.

"He did?" But didn't Craig leave before me? Did he go back? Why would he do that? I'm so confused, I thought he didn't want to fight. Wouldn't he have hurt me the first time if he did? Maybe they're making things up... But why would they do this?! IS THIS FUN TO THEM!? Tweek tried to make his mind shut up but it kept racing in circles, tearing everything else apart. If Craig had shown up then maybe Tweek had been wrong, maybe the boy really did want to kill him after all.

"Yeah," Stan confirmed gravely, pursing his lips together. "He was standing there waiting for you." Oh god, he was? But he knew that I left, why would he purposefully stand around? Doesn't he usually go home after school right away anyway? Tweek shifted on his box nervously. "And he was all like, 'Man, Tweek's a wuss,'." He couldn't help but shiver at that because he'd always known that Craig saw him as a bug, this was just proof.

Oblivious to the thoughts racing through Tweek's mind, Stan continued his recounting of what had happened. "And we were all like, 'No he's not, Craig,' and he was all like, 'Yeah he is, he isn't showing up. He's a big wuss, and he has crooked teeth!'." Has Craig ever said that many words in a row before, there's no way he actually said that, they have to be making things up. But he didn't know, he'd never understood Craig and they could be telling the truth about what had happened. Maybe Craig had just talked to him so that he could then make fun of Tweek when he went home!

"I don't have crooked teeth!" Tweek insisted, stubbornly. Then again, if anyone knew what his teeth looked like, it would be Craig, considering the amount of time the boy spent staring at Tweek. So maybe he did have crooked teeth and Craig had noticed but why would he tell these people who Tweek was pretty sure he didn't like about that? Why would he talk to them at all?

Picking up his friend's story, Kyle widened his eyes and said, "And then Craig was all like, 'Tweek is scared of me. He's a big chicken,'." Tweek yelped. He was a chicken, sure, but he didn't want Craig to think he was. Because when Craig had glared at him, he hadn't felt scared, he'd felt like he could actually fight back. He wanted to feel that strong again and he wanted to show Craig that he was actually not as pathetic as he looked.

Of course now the last thing he wanted to do was fight but he wasn't even sure how to say that.

"And he started doing an impersonation of you being a chicken," Kyle continued, shocking the blond. "Well, everybody in the world saw it!" He demonstrated, much to Stan's apparent amusement.

"EVERYONE IN THE WORLD?!" Tweek screamed. Too much pressure! With another shriek he tumbled off of the box he'd been standing on, falling back into his room and hitting his head for the second time that day. Lying there on the floor, a sudden thought occurred to the blond. An image of Craig mimicking a chicken. Suddenly, the terror he'd been feeling turned into the odd desire to burst into laughter.

So he giggled, softly so the other boys wouldn't hear. He was still upset, if Craig really had done all of that stuff, then he was going to be really pissed at him. Especially after he'd acted so differently earlier when Tweek was actually there and ready to fight. But even so, it took Tweek a moment to get his wits about him because he was still convulsing in his strange high-pitched laughter.

From outside, Stan called, "Yeah, it was weak." As if he thought Tweek cared what Craig had looked like impersonating a chicken. Except he sort of did, because if it had happened then that meant that Craig still wanted to fight and by not showing up, Tweek was proving Craig's point. It wasn't fair, he hadn't even been given a fair chance this time! He'd only left cause he thought Craig had!

I just don't want to fight Craig.

That being said, he still called out, in an oddly strangled voice, "I'm not a chicken!" At least not when it comes to Craig. I refuse to be! What were the other boys even here for, telling him all this stuff didn't exactly accomplish anything. What were they thinking?

"Well everyone in the world thinks you are," Kyle told him, sounding almost sympathetic but not enough to be believable. Why were they so invested in this at all? JESUS IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE! Did they want him to fight Craig still?

That was it, wasn't it? They were here trying to convince him to fight! Because Craig still wanted to and if he didn't show up, that would make him a chicken. Craig had been so… different earlier, but now it sounded like he was back to the self that Tweek had always known he was. Mean, angry, uncaring.

"See ya," Kyle called up, before there were the sounds of feet on the pavement. Realizing his chance was about to vanish, Tweek desperately scrambled to his feet and pushed himself back up onto the box he'd used as a stool before.

"WAIT!" he shouted, his eyes wide and wild. "I'll fight!" Though he'd made the decision, it felt like Tweek had somehow lost. It didn't matter, he always lost anyway, what was one more time? At least he'd be able to show Craig that he wasn't completely helpless. At least he'd be able to prove to the frightening boy that even though he couldn't stand up to anyone else, he could stand up to the Noirette.

Turning back to him, Stan quickly asked, "Tomorrow?" As if he was actually giving Tweek a choice. But he wasn't this was all on their terms. Why was he even fighting at all?

Forcing the doubt from his mind, Tweek said, in a small voice, "Okay."

Grinning, Kyle said, "Great! See you there!" before bumping Stan with his shoulder and walking away, leading the taller boy away with him. The moment they were out of earshot, Tweek closed the windows and let out a loud, high-pitched scream. It wasn't fair! He didn't want to fight at all? Why had Craig done something like that? The problem was, he knew for a fact the boy would totally act entirely emotionless like that and flip on him, that's what Craig Tucker did.

He didn't stare at people with a soft, thoughtful expression on his face. He didn't ask about bruises on people's faces. He didn't look into their eyes like he could somehow see their soul. He flipped people off and flew off the handle when he wanted to. Tweek was nothing but dirt to him. The only reason Craig had talked to him today was to make him confused and weak. He couldn't let it get to him.

It made him feel sick. Craig made him feel sick.

"WHY DO I HAVE TO BE SUCH A FREAK!?" Tweek screamed at his door before stumbling and falling over again. Laying there among scattered Legos and pieces of paper, the blond boy just turned over so he was resting on his side before curling up into a fetal position. All those stupid hopes that he'd allowed to come into being evaporated as he resigned himself to forever being enemies with Craig, the one person he'd always sort of hoped he could become friends with. It was like the universe was slapping him in the face, and he couldn't do a thing about it.

))))-(((

Dinner was one of the most frustrating times for Tweek. He didn't like his family, they drove him crazy. His father was always wrapped up in his own things, happy to run the coffee shop and ignore his troubled son. His mother was flighty and drifty, hardly able to focus on anything, much less care about her only son.

So when they sat down to eat together, Tweek felt like he was eating with two robots. He could talk to them and sometimes they'd talk back but they didn't care about him, they hardly even cared about each other. The only reason their marriage worked was because they were both so damn insane they couldn't tell how fake the whole thing felt.

But Tweek could see it, Tweek could see it all and it drove him crazy. He couldn't do anything about it, he could just watch as his parents went through the motions of being human while forgetting the most important pieces. Like caring about how badly Tweek was doing, like treating him as a human and not another robot. Acknowledging that he wasn't perfect instead of acting like he was. Maybe someday they'd figure it out.

But for now, he'd just have to put up with them being even crazier than he was.

As he mechanically ate the food his mother had made, Tweek's dad brightly asked, "How was school today, son?" He always asked the same damn question, always. Nothing changed it, sometimes he'd even ask during the summer. That's how broken he was.

Trying to put everything that had happened into words, Tweek finally gave up and just let out a soft, "Nngh." It didn't matter, he couldn't even begin to tell his parents about Craig. They wouldn't get it, they'd just stare at him for a moment before going right back to eating.

Proving his point perfectly, Tweek's father said, "That's great," before going back to his salad. Tweek could have said anything and that would have been the man's response. He could have told his dad that he'd snorted cocaine off the back of Mr. Garrison and his father would still say 'that's nice' and go back to eating.

Not that he'd ever do drugs, they killed people!

Usually, he wouldn't have bothered to open his mouth again, but tonight, he felt like he had to. He was trapped anyway, he might as well try to get some advice from people older than him. Though if he was honest with himself, these two people were probably the most useless people to go to for help.

Despite this, he nervously asked, "Dad, if some kid in school wants to fight me." He fidgeted with his fork before it escaped his trembling fingers. "What should I do?" Looking up at the man, he was surprised to find that he'd actually gotten his father's attention at all.

Smiling at his twitching son, Richard Tweak pleasantly said, "Son, let me tell you a little story about when your mother and I first met." Struggling to keep himself from saying that a story was the last thing he wanted, Tweek forced himself to listen. Getting to his feet, his father continued, "You see, a long time ago, there were a lot of guys who were after your mother." He stood next to his wife, smiling at Tweek peacefully. "She used to be very attractive."

All Tweek could think was that his mother should have been too crazy to ever get a guy's attention. If she'd stayed single, maybe he wouldn't have been born into this world at all. Now he was and he was going to have to fight Craig and he really didn't want to and it was alL TOO MUCH PRESSURE!

Oblivious to her son's problems, Tweek's mom nodded, "It's true. I was." Why she was smiling so serenely when Tweek was on the verge of full mental collapse, Tweek would never know.

"Well," his father said wisely. "When I started courting your mother, there was this big muscular football player named Quib, who didn't take too kindly to me." Tweek felt some of his twitching still at this. Maybe this story was helpful… "He wanted your mother all to himself. And so, one day, he challenged me to a fight." Then Tweek's dad went back to his seat before picking up his fork and resuming eating.

For a moment, Tweek just sat there, shivering, unsure what was supposed to happen next. What had his dad done? If his dad had survived a fight or found some way out of it then maybe Tweek could as well. But his parents just kept eating and it soon became apparent that they weren't going to say anything.

Twitching hard to the left, Tweek asked, "Well?"

Looking up from her food in pleasant confusion, Tweek's mother sweetly asked, "Well what, honey?" She looked so fake, sitting there with those painted lips and soft hair and blank eyes like she couldn't feel a thing. It was terrifying, but Tweek persevered.

"GGhn, w-what happened!?" he asked, shaking, looking between his parents in confusion, waiting for the rest of the story.

Looking at his glass of water, Richard Tweak frowned for a moment before saying, "Oh, I- I don't know. He moved away or something." His expression immediately returned to a peaceful expression.

"Yes," Tweek's mother agreed, nodding. "I think that's right." Then she looked at her husband and smiled as if the story had been perfect and everything was entirely fine. Tweek just shook and felt something in him snap.

"GAHH! You guys never help me!" he yelled, fury building up behind his eyes and squeezing his brain. Trying to get rid of it Tweek slammed his head against the table, hardly caring when his forehead hit the edge of his plate, scattering food all over the table. No, he just kept hitting his head against the wooden surface while shrieking, "Your stories never go anywhere! I HATE IT! I WANT OUT I WANT OUT I WANT OUT!"

His glass of water fell over, soaking half the table and getting in Tweek's face and hair. He just kept banging his head against the table, screaming all the while. His head felt like it was going to explode but he didn't care because the entire day had already been so crappy, exploding wouldn't make it any worse. He just wanted Craig to not be so emotionless and incomprehensible. HE JUST WANTED HIS HEAD TO STOP YELLING AT HIM!

But true to form, his parents just went back to eating.

Finally feeling too dizzy to continue, Tweek just slumped back in his chair before scrambling out of it, heading for the kitchen with a mumble of , "I'm going somewhere else."

His robotic parents didn't even look up, they just kept eating as if Tweek hadn't said a word. Stumbling into the kitchen, Tweek grabbed for a mug and, with trembling fingers, poured himself a cup of the deep black liquid that was coffee. A few sips later, he felt like he could walk up the stairs without falling down them. It was as calm as he was going to get, and probably a lot calmer than he really deserved in a house like his.

He didn't want to think anymore, he just wanted to go up to his room and stare at his ceiling while he waited for the underpants gnomes to come. It didn't matter anyway. Who knew, maybe the whole day had just been a hallucination conjured up by his fucked up mind.

After all, it wouldn't be the first time.

God, why does it have to be Craig…