No great artist ever sees things as they really are. If he did, he would cease to be an artist.
—Oscar Wilde
"Tweek?" I asked, half incredulous half waiting for the punchline. "You brought that kid with you to find me?"
Before an answer could be given, my quirky professor said, "Conté draw this spazzy kid I commissioned".
Commissioned? Confusion chortled like a gnat at the forefront of my mind. Glancing back to inquire an answer from Kenny, I turned my head around only to see that he was no longer present. Damn illusive blonde and his stockpile full of never-ending 'surprises'.
Righting my position, I picked up one of my conté pencils—a charcoal based utensil that produced sepia toned colors—and waited for the professor to finish situating Tweek in his stool.
He was just as jittery as he used to be, fumbling in his seat while attempting to stay calm. It was hard to imagine that he hadn't changed at all. Issue wise, at least. He'd had psychiatric help for as long as I could remember, so the least he should've been able to do was sit still.
Four years was missing, though. What if during that time he'd lost it?
Maybe he was just permanently fucked up. That didn't sound too far from the truth, and I guessed the nervous blonde was far better than Cartman. Returning the pad of my canvas paper to a blank page, I resumed watching distrustfully.
My professor had switched up the angles, turning Tweek in a way that gave me a profile view of him. Looking at his features gave me two topics to ponder on: How much he'd changed in general and how he varied from Kenny. As I began to sketch the basics just as I had with the other blonde, my brain recalled Tweek's younger appearance.
None of his features had sharpened, for he wasn't angular with definitive figures like Kenny, but rather they'd defined in minute ways that still kept him boyish. Soft, almost. From the side it was harder to place where he'd aged, but the task wasn't impossible. I could spot where his nose had grown and mouth shaped, where his jaw was sculpted, but not in a masculine way.
Drawing him felt easy, the same as it was hard. Babies and children were more difficult due to the way shadows practically slid from their skin with no wrinkles or growth points to latch onto. Tweek was nearly considered so, except he had just enough definition to put himself past that point of difficulty.
He had a few strange qualities about him, though. Characteristics that my hand was magnetized to, and I found myself tracing over the same lines just so I could draw them over again. The slope of his large almond eye was downcast, and the slant of his slender brow fell into perfect unison with that drop. His mouth was set in a natural pout, his top almost indistinctly fuller than his bottom. It was very odd, but I thought that if I looked at him from the front, it'd give him the disguise of a baby animal.
His nose sloped downwards and reminded me of those Navi people from that Avatar movie—the blue ones. The only thing that seemed uplifting about him were his lashes. Some randomly placed stands were lighter, a dusty shade of blonde. His hair was also much fairer than Kenny's. It had an insipid tone and was styled in the same disarray as always, only longer now. I was sure the choppy cut of his feathered locks framed his face from the front, just as it did his profile, hugging closely to his cheeks and the nap of his slim neck.
Every now and then I'd randomly catch him glancing my way, and every time he did, his breath turned erratic all over again. It was like he was doing it purposefully. He would calm himself down only to look at me and send himself into hysterics.
The emotion for him ended up being nervous anticipation.
By the end of the class period, even though I had a detailed portrait full of shading and personality, I felt cheated. I'd done profiles before, so I didn't understand why I felt like my time had been wasted, but this one simple drawing just didn't feel like enough to me.
"Alright, guys. Time's almost up. Finish what you can."
Yeah, definitely just got cheated, my thoughts grumbled.
Tweek's heavy shoulders released a weighted ton of tension when he was given the go-ahead to end his little 'commissioned modeling session'—very suspicious. He dropped himself from the stool, too short to reach the floor from his sitting position, and was about ready to high-tail it out of the classroom or to wherever Kenny had run off, but I stopped him before he could get that far.
"You're not going anywhere." My hand was clasped around one his lithe arms, fingers overlapping. His limb was so thin, even in his jacket.
Like whiplash, his head rapidly turned around. Our eyes locked and his cheeks erupted with a pink undertone. "C-Craig..." His anxious gaze darted over the length of my body. "I—uh. You changed."
"Yeah," I agreed sarcastically. "Well, it's been four years."
Seeing him face forward was like seeing him from the side times ten. He was the most exotic featured boy I'd ever seen in my entire life. Now that he'd grown into himself since I'd left, it hit me just how much four years could do to a person, physically speaking.
I didn't want to call him animalistic—that just made him sound primal—but I couldn't keep owls or kittens or mice from coming to mind while looking at him.
"I should—" His glance skirted toward the strict grip I had around his bicep. "I should go find Kenny."
When he tried to walk away, he remained confined in my grasp. "We should go find Kenny."
Quickly, he objected. "But you have school."
Just as fast, I informed him: "I've got some spare time before my next class. Or did you honestly think you could show up, actually let me know you're here, and then run away?"
Letting him go, I pushed him in the direction of the door. "Yeah, I did," he confessed, rubbing his arm. I hadn't grabbed him that hard, though. Tweek had just always been a weakling.
"Pretty sure Kenny's keeping the big secret from me," I started, following him out the door. He fumbled with his hands for a moment before shoving them into the pockets of his hooded jacket. "So why don't you go ahead and fill me in, yeah? What the hell are you two doing in Lakewood?"
"Your g-guess is as good as mine."
What I didn't like was how honest that answer was.
Chasing Tweek through the halls of my school—all of which he's never been before, but I didn't give him directions because I thought it was humorous watching him get lost—led us to the quaint cafe bistro located at the center.
So Kenny had skirted away to the place where girls frolicked in their free time. Predictable.
My college as a whole was a clean, fresh place. The halls were spacious, the classrooms practically nitpicked spotless. The building was meticulous and even the staff portrayed its cleansed quality. For an art school, it made such a talent seem orderly.
Windows were a greatly accented aspect. Floor to ceiling open spaces were quite popular throughout the hallways, and in every classroom there was a motivating view of the Colorado landscape. Every school day was refreshing, affecting each student positively. This was a place that did wonderful things; this was a place that wasn't South Park. Compared to that town, Lakewood was a polar opposite.
The cafe was a common area, especially for Token, Clyde, and myself. We ate there regularly since the three of us were enrolled together, and although we had different majors, our schedules somehow aligned quite nicely. The food was simple yet tasteful, the employees radiated energy, every customer was lively, and every time I walked in and got a whiff of the savory undertone permeating from the kitchen, I just felt plain old good.
Upon entering, my eye instantly found the charismatic blonde at a booth, chatting away with a few girls who were giggling, secretly encouraging him to continue his flirtatious act. Even after four years he was as devious as ever. I was certain he'd already gotten their numbers, possibly a virginity or two if I really wanted to exaggerate.
Trafficking my way through the immaculately placed tables, I headed toward the perverse man. Tweek followed like my shadow, keeping close to my heels. "Times up, Kenny," I growled as I approached. Whatever conversations were procuring paused when the blonde lifted his eyes to mine. "It's time to spill whatever your ulterior motive is."
"Ulterior motive?" He repeated innocently, pfting just to spite me. "Why don't you sit down and we can converse over coffee and muffins or something? I'm sure Tweek would love that." He added "And the girls are friendly," with a playful wink in their direction.
"I know they're friendly," I stated, pointing a finger at the blonde. "You tried to get in my pants at Jaron's party." To the other I said, "And you backed her up."
The aforementioned blonde perked up and crowed, "I knew you looked familiar!" She wasn't even modest, or ashamed, seeing as she didn't get very far. Even drunk I couldn't get it up.
"How could we forget you?" Her redheaded friend giggled. "You were such a sweetheart."
"Craig? A sweetheart?" Kenny repeated, motioning for Tweek to take a seat next to him. He sat down cautiously, mouth shut tight like he was afraid to say anything. I grabbed the one opposite him, next to the only blonde who was a girl.
"Yep! He took care of us." She lifted a forkful of salad to her lips, covering her hand with her mouth to be polite.
I decided to explain just so that Kenny wouldn't get any stupid ideas. "They were wasted. Threw up all over me, too. I took them home."
"We gave you our numbers too," the blonde added, pouting teasingly. "But you never called."
"I'm not interested."
Kenny overdid a wince of an expression. "Always so brutally honest, Craig. Your personality hasn't changed at all. Or your sex drive."
"Holla," I blandly joked. "Now how about you quit stalling and tell me what the fuck you're doing here?"
"Just visiting." That answer was about as anticlimactic as they got.
"You're lying." The girls were watching now, munching on their salads like their lettuce and dressing was popcorn. I wasn't sure why I couldn't find myself attracted to them, but I gave up on questions like that a long time ago. My hormones just didn't respond to people, simple as that.
"No," he corrected, leaning back against the booth. "You just want me to be lying because you're confused."
"And pissed." I leaned back myself and it was like we were competing over who could appear the most nonchalant. "I left South Park hoping that I'd never see anyone's face from there again. But after four years, you randomly find me, and bring Blondie along with you, so don't think you're going to get away with this, because your behavior is suspicious."
"You're going to hurt Tweek's feelings—"
Not wanting to hear any more of his bullshit, I cut him off.
"Tweek's an adult, Kenny. Treat him like one." And then I decided to tell him that I knew how he played his game; I knew it almost better than anyone. "I know you, dude. You don't do anything without having a god damn good reason, so just admit that you came here for whatever the cause."
His eyes squinted in satisfaction, but I wasn't sure why. For all I knew, he probably just stopped by to see if I still knew how cunning he was, and Tweek was just his pawn to throw me off guard. He had the type of egotism that liked to be reassured in strange ways.
When he said "You've always been able to pick up small details," I honestly didn't know how to react. What did he expect me to say to that? Nothing at all, obviously, because then he said, "But so have I."
In the blonde's estrange form of language, that was equivalent to admitting that I was right: He'd come here for a specific reason.
For now, that would have to satiate me.
Kenny was like the universe with all of the hidden knowledge in the world. He told you what you needed to know, when you needed to know it. But never anything more than that. His dictatorship wasn't ill. The blonde was irrevocably smart and intuitive. You could trust yourself with Kenny, and that was the only reason why I allowed for him to explain so little at that moment.
"So," the redheaded girl threw out. "How do you guys all know each other?"
My mood dimmed at her poorly timed question. "Childhood friends, I suppose," I grumbled out, staring across the table at Tweek. He didn't even appear to be paying attention and wouldn't look in the direction of any of us. Instead, he stared forlornly out at the half-filled cafe.
I couldn't begin to fathom what he was thinking, but something was nagging at him, and I wondered if it was about the visit. Had he volunteered to come? Did he know that he would be meeting me again? What was going on back home that he'd left? And with Kenny of all people. I was supposing that they'd come alone. Why?
Earlier Kenny had mentioned something about eyes before Tweek had been presented to the class as though I'd have a field day with the petite blonde's. Observing him from the front I understood what he'd meant. Tweek's eyes were measurably large and doe-like. They were certainly the focal point of his entire face, a pallid tint of green that was unmistakably rare. He looked like a doll, like a statue that didn't move.
He'd be perfect to capture in a drawing. I liked challenges, odd features that made you second guess, and Tweek had a cacophony of those. I'd been cheated the first time, and I didn't think that the blonde would be a model again after today, so I thought I deserved another chance. In fact, whether I did or not, I was going to get it.
"I've got to get to class," I muttered, pushing myself from the booth. Tweek watched, finally looking away from his distraction. To make a point, I stopped and said specifically to him, "You should stick around for a while." But as I began to leave, I didn't feel as though that was good enough. So I turned back around. "You look weird," I explained briefly. "I'd like to draw you sometime."
After that, I really did leave.