I remember when I first realized I loved the twitchy blond boy. I was fifteen at the time and he was fourteen.
It was the summer. It was a perfect. Priceless days and endless sleepovers. Honestly though, that's enough with the Hallmark shit. I'll just tell you that summer kicked ass in South Park.
What's the most awesome thing two kids can do during summer? Skateboard; well at least attempt to in our case.
I don't like to brag but when it comes to skateboarding I'm good. Don't get me wrong, I'm no Tony Hawk but I've got it under control.
Sadly that year, Tweek didn't have it under control; hell he didn't even have it under the rug. It turned out that coffee and skating didn't mix so great.
Even though I knew it was a bad idea, I had Tweek standing on my board trying to keep his balance. He hated every minute of it and I can't really blame him. With all that shaking I'm surprised that he was able to stand on it for so long.
But like I said, I pushed him into it like I new I shouldn't have. I didn't think anything could go wrong; I did make him wear a helmet though. That counts for something!
Yeah, didn't help very much. He got on the board and we just so happened to be by the cement-paved hill. I had skated down it millions of times with no problem. I had full confidence in him. Not that I don't now, I just uh, assess the situations better.
Anyway, I got him all set up on the board, got him facing down the hill. Than it all went down hill and I mean literally. Tweek went flying down the hill.
It was all one big yellow blur after that.
When your flying down a hill, it helps to know how to stop. Which was something we hadn't gotten to yet. He bailed and ended up spraining his wrist.
Craig Tucker does not feel bad about anything, except that. I felt awful, worst than when I had accidentally killed my goldfish, Meatloaf, in second grade.
I rushed to his side and plopped down next to him. I could see him trying to hold back the tears. He put on a brave face and twitched, telling me that it really didn't hurt that bad.
I pulled him into a hug and apologized about twenty times. He told me that it wasn't my fault but I knew that it really was. If I hadn't pushed him than he never would have fallen.
After that I took him home, wrapped his wrist and made him coffee. I realized that I had never done that for anybody. I wondered if it was just guilt or something else, a need to take care of the hopeless boy?
It wasn't until a few years after that incident that I figured it out. I'm convinced that I was in love with him before I even knew what love was.
Today I find myself doing many things for the blond. Taking care of him when he's sick. Making him that awful beverage he loves, the one that makes him slightly crazy but still him. I guess it's just what boyfriends do.
Yeah, I've grown incredibly soft for the boy. And if you tell anybody I'll kick your ass.