Chapter Seven: Tweek's P.O.V
Another sleepless night. I've gotten used to staying up at night. Drinking twenty cups of coffee a day can do that. I didn't mind though. I keep myself busy, so I don't even notice the time when I leave Pip's house. It was dark outside though, I at least knew it meant it was kind of late. It doesn't get dark in South Park until after 9PM. That much I knew. So it must be pretty late now. I didn't have a curfew or anything, since I don't sleep. Neither do my parents, but we don't acknowledge each other's existence. Just as well. I knew I was a freak, whereas my parents were the most normal people around. Although, living in South Park, that doesn't mean much.
I felt the chill of the evening wind slam into my face. Windbreakers don't really help in this kind of weather. I huddled my face into my jacket, hands pushed deep into my pockets. Good thing I didn't live that far from Pip, or else I would've been a human popsicle by now. Too bad I didn't have Cartman's fat ass to cover myself with. Cartman...
It was then, as I entered my dark, coffee-scented home, that I remembered the events that occurred in school today. I sigh, muttering to myself about immature children. I walk up the stairs to my room, ignoring my parents, who were cuddling together, watching the late evening news. I plop onto my bed and glance at the coffee mug alarm clock on my bedside table. 1:34AM. Whoa. How did that happen? I couldn't have been at Pip's that long..
I turn on my other side, curling my knees into my chest, staring at the pale, twitchy thing in my closet mirror. God, I'm so absurd looking. I hated the way I looked. The way I acted. The way I am. No wonder Craig...
Wait. Craig! Again, my mind wanders to the after school event, remembering how a certain raven-haired boy seemed to be looking at me, freaking out over spiders. Fake as they may be. I was sure he was watching me. Has he always been? Has he been watching over me? Or just wanting a laugh every time I got myself into trouble? But he wasn't laughing. He was completely straight-faced. The Usual Craig. In that one second that I caught him staring, I felt like an animal at the zoo, being studied and gawked at. But Craig doesn't gawk. Nor does he study, or else he wouldn't have almost failed third grade. I would do anything to go back to those days. Simpler times. Our adventures, the idiotic four being the brains behind most of them, good and bad (but mostly bad). I lie on my back, but then decide to get up and take off my jacket. I shook it and laid it on the back of my computer chair. I gripped the backrest with both hands and blinked a few times. Some of them intentional, but mostly from my tics. I have to tell Craig my feelings. Even if they're not returned, I just need to let him know. I can handle his rejection. I've prepared myself for it. I always told myself I wouldn't cry in front of him, and this time will be no different.
Yeah. Tomorrow.
New day. New Tweek.
Tomorrow I will tell him how long I've loved him. How long I've wanted to be his. Tell him how much I've missed him. Then I would run, never stopping. I would run from his disgusted glare. I would run from the beating I was sure would follow. I would never talk to him again, just like before. I just needed to get it out. I was already crazy, but bottling up these emotions will make me go insane. I have to do this for my own conscience. But how I tell him, that's an entirely different matter.