Art is not what you see, but what you make others see.
—Edgar Degas
DiatonicDictator: I'm so happy that you're enjoying your story. (: Though the chapters are short, I have a lot planned and hope you continue to like what comes from it.
They didn't come around again until the weekend. By that point my hands felt like they'd aged fifty years and like my fingers were undergoing a strange case of sudden arthritis. When I looked at them they were same-old: willowy joints and knuckles, strong. I hoped that if I looked in a mirror I'd see them for what they actually were like in one of those old Grimm tales. It ended up being my imagination, because when I saw Tweek, they rejuvenated, the little bastards.
He was sitting in the cafe with his tall blonde counterpart. There were no girls with them, eluding me to think that they'd just arrived. Tweek had a coffee though, and just arriving never stopped Kenny from having the ladies before. I seemed to be all out of whack since last visiting Stripe. Time had been playing tricks on me and my teachers were questioning the effort I was putting into their classes. My brain was scattered, thoughtless yet with everything to ponder on.
Kenny grinned, waiting patiently as I ordered a smoothie and took a seat beside him. "Tweek didn't believe me when I said you'd show up eventually." The skeptical blonde was blushing when I gave him my attention, diverting his gaze when he noticed my own was there to stay. His scarf was layered upon his shoulders. It's multiple shades of dull and rusted red made his green eyes stand out.
"It wasn't hard. I just had to follow the raunchy stench of whore and it led me right to you." Kenny clapped me on the back and shook my shoulder hard. It wasn't okay how simple it was to fall back into friend mode with him. Maybe once he came clean as to why he was here I wouldn't chastise myself as much for doing so.
"No need to play so dirty, Craigy-poo. The whore isn't present at the moment." That wink of his told me otherwise. "He did have a girl last night, though. Guess he's just tired or something."
"You two went out to fuck my neighbors, didn't you?" I accused. One door down from my place was a sister and brother, both generically good looking. Of course they hadn't passed by Kenny's radar. A feat like that went against the natural laws of the universe.
The social blonde scoffed and pointedly stopped to stare at Tweek whose blush intensified. "This kid? He created the word prude."
"I'm not prude," Tweek denied. "If I want to put out, then I'm going to put out. I just—d-don't." His eyes flickered briefly toward me and quite a few other places, before settling somewhere far away.
"Tweek, if you'd just put out for me I could change your entire life around." Kenny's way with words was definitely an instant orgasm. What the hell was I doing with these guys?
"Be careful," I warned the embarrassed blonde. "That's his catchphrase. Gets 'em every time."
"When was the last time you put out, Craig? When you hit puberty and didn't know what to do with your wiener so you stuck in the refrigerator door?"
Idly, I pointed out that Kenny was false before clarifying. "Seven months ago as far as I can remember, give or take a few." Kenny asked for more information, smirking wickedly. "I was at a party and I swear to God I've never been so blazed. I called dibs on the next body that walked through the door."
"Female?" He questioned. I nodded my head, slurping my smoothie to a memory that was rather fuzzy. "What if that next body had been a guy?"
"Still would've been all over that. I'm sure I did get up on a few guys, actually. Clyde definitely." Our bromance was borderline homosexual when we weren't sober, even when he had a girlfriend. The ladies usually found it cute.
"And what's your catchphrase?"
"Wanna fuck?" I shared blatantly. Tweek looked more uncomfortable than he had when I'd practically gotten naked in front of him. I figured it was because the topic of our conversation was sex and Close Encounters With The Female Anatomy. Maybe he was prude. Thank God for Clyde always carrying a condom and not getting any himself that night.
"Mine too," Kenny agreed. "Maybe we could get together sometime, figure out what else we have in common." He was nudging his shoulder into mine, over-exaggerating whatever sarcastic flirt technique he was using.
"So you're a virgin?" My question was directed toward the obvious. Kenny deflated against the table at having been ignored. Tweek nodded his head vigorously.
Brand new with a fresh burst of helium, the pervert next to me asked, "Would you rather shack up with an experienced veteran or a naive virgin?"
Tweek blanched, staring at his friend downright horrified. It was entertaining to see him so riled up, the two of them in fact, so I pondered the thought carefully. The more time I spent on it, the more fidgety Tweek became and the farther Kenny's grin spread. "This is tough," I confessed, "because I know it's between the two of you, and you" —I pointed at Kenny— "know your shit." His features grew smug. "But I don't know, man. Virgins are nice."
Tossing his head back, the blonde groaned in disbelief. "You'd totally choose the virgin!" Kenny clapped his hands and quieted down only to shake his head at me. Was it that hard to believe? Speaking in his terms, I was sure that the experienced veteran would satisfy greatly, but there was something about a virgin that was new and fragile, almost sweet. It was satisfactory in a different way to know that another person's first sensations were because of you. Kenny would've chosen the virgin, too.
"I-I need another coffee," Tweek choked, shambling his way out of the booth. When he got up to the counter, he spilled his money everywhere and pushed it all toward the cashier, probably begging for him to just keep it all. I actually knew the guy and would ask him about it later.
Randomly close, Kenny told me against my ear while pointing toward Tweek's abandoned cup, "That was full when you got here. Just saying." I knew he was giving me a hint, but it was hard to place where coffee came into all of this. Surely they hadn't stopped by Lakewood just to try the town's coffee.
I mean, I guessed it was kind of cool that he'd finished it so quickly. Maybe that's what Kenny was getting at.
On his way back, I paid attention to the blonde and his nearly pigeon-toed footsteps. He had a very dainty appearance in the most complimentary way. His limbs were thin, thighs small, and despite his minimal height, his legs were long. The black fabric of his jeans emphasized his scarf which in turn brought out his eyes, a domino effect or sorts, making Tweek a very noticeable person today. For being so shy he sure knew how to spice up his attire in public.
It became apparent to me as he sat down that in the natural light flooding the building there was faint discoloring one tone darker than his natural skin color circling his eyes almost as though he were wearing makeup. The other night he'd said he was a sick; sleep must be a problem for him. He didn't give off a sleep-deprived vibe, so maybe his brain was used to it while his body was not.
Returning to the present, I saw that Tweek was staring back at me. His cheeks were turning pink. "What are you trying to s-see when you look at people?" He questioned.
I blinked, never having been asked that before. "Kenny's nose is crooked. Clyde's smile quirks one way. His girlfriend's ring finger is taller than the index finger on her right hand. Token's right ear is higher than his left." The blonde raised his cup to his mouth with his left hand. Last night he'd been a righty. "You're ambidextrous." He froze all movement. "I look for asymmetries in everyone."
"I'd say Tweek's isn't very asymmetrical," Kenny commented.
"Yeah," I agreed, turning to consult with him. "He's kind of perfect."
Tweek was mortified on the other side of the table, shifting nervously with his hands in his lap. "Well w-what about you?" His inquiry was directed toward me as he tried to remove himself from the spotlight. "Do you look at the differences in your own features?"
"It's kind of hard to miss how jacked up my teeth are," I scoffed.
"They're not that bad. It's just your bottom teeth." Tweek smiled, unknowingly rubbing in how straight the curve of his lips were.
My front were actually crooked as well, imperceptibly so. I didn't think anything in particular about me was unattractive. It was just the way I was born and change never made anyone prettier in my opinion, so I never got braces.
Grabbing me by the shoulder, Kenny pushed me into the back of the booth and jumped across my lap. "Time to hit the old dusty trail." His eyes were following something passing through the hallway. Turning my head, I spotted one of the guys from my studio arts class. "I've had it out for him since I got here. Take care of Tweek for an hour or two, alright?" He winked at the blonde before dipping out of the cafe.
"He just left me," Tweek stated, gawking as Kenny passed by the window. He waved and gave us a thumbs up.
Leaning forward into the position I'd been in before Kenny moved me, I took the smoothie straw between my lips and sucked. Kenny's always had an uncanny ability to ditch his friends and leave them with others, but I guessed the guy had to do what the mood asked of him. Had I been a sex addict I'm sure I would've understood.
"I guess you can come with me to my next class." Tweek just looked at me with an apologetic expression. It wasn't like he was a burden or anything.
Him being there might actually inspire me to do something productive.
The sun was beginning to take its downfall when Tweek and I started to head back to my apartment having received no word or sign from Kenny. I could've driven us back except that morning I'd decided to walk in an attempt to clear my head. Had I known it would end up futile I would've taken the warm route. Traffic was condensed and Tweek was having a hard time crossing the streets without running every time the walking man turned into a blinking hand.
My remaining classes had turned out to be counterproductive. Perhaps I'd jynxed myself when I brought the blonde along, especially when I was already distracted by thoughts I couldn't seem to pinpoint. All I wanted to do now was go home and snuggle with Pretty Lady and the Julibeagles on the couch. And maybe stare at Tweek for the rest of the night.
We walked side by side, hands deep in our pockets: his in his jacket, mine in my jeans. I couldn't see my breath but the weather knew how to be sharp without a frosty bite. Tweek made sure to stick to my left, that way there was a barrier between him and the traffic. Our time together had been pretty silent up until this point where I tried to make conversation. He looked like he could use the distraction.
"So you said you were sick," I started, pushing the button at the crosswalk. The blonde was leaning against the light pole in wait. "Is it the same as when you were little? I think it was ADHD that you had, if I remember correctly."
He nodded and I watched his face closely, picking up on his insecurities and shame. "I take medication for that." I thought he was going to end it there, and I wasn't going to push it, but then he continued. "There's also sleeping pills, and anti-psychotics, and certain supplements that I need to take. I'm an anemic vegetarian, so the doctors like to watch me closely."
I hadn't been expecting all of that. It was quite the list. I probably would've been proud of it whereas Tweek was far into the opposite. "What are the anti-psychotics for?" My shoulder was against the other side of the pole where I peeked over to look at the blonde as he spoke.
"My anxiety levels are really high, I have a severe case of paranoia, I'm obsessive c-compulsive," and as though he'd forgotten the best part, he added: "Oh, and my favorite: I have a speech impediment."
"Your stutter isn't that bad." The electric sign on the other side of the street signaled that we had the right of way.
Tweek scoffed, contradicting me as we walked. "You haven't seen me when I'm not on my medication."
That's true. "I kind of like it. It's different."
The blonde gave me a skeptical glance before speaking seriously. "People don't like different. They make fun of it, even when it's positive. N-Not that mine's a good thing—mine fucking sucks."
"Do you have a boyfriend?" He tripped over the sidewalk as we made it to the other side. The apartment complex parking lot was one block away. I could see the green framed rooms and the customary granite staircases just ahead.
"N-No," he coughed, rubbing his cheek nervously. Was his reaction one of anxiety or paranoia? Maybe both. I understood why he was so sketchy now.
"Have you ever had one?" Tweek nodded, causing me to look at him for the answer. "What happened?"
His cheeks grew warm. "He was jealous, got mad at me, a-and broke up with me." This guy was suspiciously open for being a medicated mess. I wanted to see how nosy I could be before he shut his mouth, so I asked why. The blonde smiled bitterly and I spotted some of that reoccurring sadness pull at his naturally drawn features. "He told me that I was t-too hung up on a stupid crush over s-someone else. That it wasn't fair."
When I asked who he'd ruined a relationship over, his answer was immediate. "I'm not telling you." So that was how far I had to go.
"Do your parents know you're gay?" I asked, luring him away from his cockblock of a crush.
For a while, just about until we reached the specific staircase that would take us to my apartment, he did nothing but stare at me. On the first step, I looked down at him and raised my brows. He was probably wondering why he was undergoing such a personal inquisition, but to me, I didn't see it like that.
I was about as open as you could get when it came to the truth. I had no shame. People could pry however much into my life as they wanted and I'd show no barriers. Tweek could question me in return and I'd play fair. Only he wasn't. He was like a one-sided conversation. A characteristic of mine was to come across as boring, so I didn't blame him because sometimes I could be the same way.
Taking a step in my shadow, the blonde said, "Yeah. I t-told them three years ago. My psychiatrist said it wasn't good to keep something important like that from them since I'm not good with being under pressure and all. We uh—we don't talk about it much."
"Do you like your psychiatrist?" I should've been one. I was good at asking questions and listening. My advice never really reached beyond the point of 'then stop caring' but I had potential.
He perked up at that. "I've had the same psychiatrist since I was seven. He takes care of me more than I know how to take care of myself."
The way he phrased that, how he said know instead of that he did take care of himself, made me wonder if he didn't believe he could. An earlier conversation resurfaced and I remembered the way he'd talked about his life back in South Park. He still lived with his parents. Both them and his psychiatrist didn't think he was capable of independence.
Or rather, not that he wasn't capable, but that he wasn't in the right state or mind. Were their beliefs influencing his? "Have you ever tried to ween yourself off of the psychiatry? I don't know how healthy it is, always being looked after like that." That wasn't necessarily the right thing to say to him based on his reaction.
"I'm not healthy," he told me. It sounded like something he heard often and was just repeating it for the sake of believing it because everyone else did too. I've seen people do this before. I've seen someone think that a certain statement or opinion is true based loosely on assumption or observation from the origin, and continue to believe in it until finally they repeat it to another and that other says to them, "That's not true". Tweek just hasn't met this person, yet.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw him watching every lift of his legs determinedly, careful not to nick the tip of his boot on any of the steps like last time. He was so consumed by this that he failed to notice when I abruptly stopped. A smirk touched my lips as he continued climbing, never ceasing until I blocked his path and he ran right into my back.
Cursing out a loud apology, the blonde grabbed my jacket to steady himself before ripping his hands away to smooth out the fabric he'd roughly abused, babbling out more apologies between every pet to my back. He was blushing and stammering and by the end of his little fit, his hands were trembling. Amused and somewhat intrigued, I turned around and sandwiched one between my own. I could feel his fingers quivering against my palms.
"You have no control over this?" Tweek shook his head vigorously, declining his head as though he could hide how lively his cheeks were. His modesty differed from most of the girls here. They self-conscious when it came to their bodies much like me when it came to the truth.
It was a nice change, so I let him know. "It doesn't make you look unattractive."
"Huh?" He was still stuck on our hands, unaware of his unconscious effort to hide his embarrassment.
"When you blush," I explained. "You always try to cover it up, but it doesn't look bad."
His smile wasn't something I could pinpoint, whether it was skepticism, genuine pity at what he thought was my stupidity, or whatever else that could possibly be going through his head, I didn't know. He just made that expression, gingerly slipped his hand out of mine, and said, "You're nothing like what I though you'd be."
"I was a lot worse before I grew up a little bit," I admitted. And then my brows knit together. "What did you expect me to be like?"
Whatever his smile had been before turned apologetic as he looked up at me. "A huge asshole?" He tried.
I couldn't really blame him for that. I'd had a mean streak throughout junior high and high school. "That's a misconception. I'm just brutally honest. People who can't handle the truth turn it into a personal attack. And then that makes me a bad person. I might've lived up to it a few times just for fun but..." I shrugged my shoulders like what's a guy supposed to do, leaving it at that.
Tweek nodded his head although I don't think he understood. He didn't know what it was like to be rude, too shy and insecure for something like that, but I was positive he's been the brunt of someone's awful attitude before, so maybe that's what his nod meant.
We started up the steps again and reached the second floor landing. "I know you and that sex fiend are being secretive about your trip up here" —Tweek commented softly that he was just as oblivious, that it was all Kenny— "but how much longer are you staying?" Knowing how that would come across, I added, "I'm just curious."
As I was sticking my keys into the doorknob, he informed me, "We're leaving tonight."
Ultimately opening the front door, Clyde's obnoxious laugh reached my ears. I knew he was sitting on the couch, face nuzzled against his girlfriend's chest before I saw him. It was obvious by the ridiculing tone of his laughter.
Bastard beat me to her. God damn it. My mood now had two reasons to go sour.
Glancing back at Tweek and his short, bony stature I thought, He'll have to do.
"Do me a favor and go sit on the couch. I'll be right back." He tried to question me but I was already closing in on my room where I threw off the majority of my clothes and came back out. Clyde was already warning him that he was in for it, and when he turned around at my reappearance, he honestly looked like he believed my best friend.
"Relax," I scoffed. "I'm just going to nap on you." His eyes followed me around the mouth of the couch, all the way until I was in front of him where he just didn't seem to understand. How was I supposed to lay on him when he sat all curled up like that? Our eyes met and I swished my hand back and fourth to let him know it was time to spread 'em. He was scared more than anything and let his limbs drop instantly.
When I flopped on top of him, my body between his legs, my head on his chest, it was like smacking into a flimsy piece of wood paneling. He was so tense that the impact of my skull and his ribcage made a sound like snapping bones. Clyde started snickering to which I kicked him in whatever body part of his was closest. I might've been laying against a tree, but there was a fire flickering on the other side, warming Tweek through and I could feel it against my cheek. His heartbeat was frantic.
What I figured was that he'd calm down once he got used to it, being a cushion as well as my body weight, but the more I laid there, the more I got used to him. That wasn't the way things were supposed to work. I could already feel my senses losing their grip on accuracy, paralyzing under the nagging force of the last few days. Before I lost it completely, I mumbled, "Relax."
Sitting slanted against the back of the couch, Tweek shifted beneath me, his legs inching closer to frame my torso in what he didn't even realize comforted me. I sighed heavily, the structure of my body expanding and deflating soothingly. The blonde's chest gradually mellowed out, as did the rest of him. It was a trance listening to his heartbeat slowly return to normal. I could envision my own thoughts racing before succumbing to the tempo of his heart where they dimmed further and further into the background while his pulse did the same.
My eyelids were heavy even closed. I wasn't going to nap on him; I was going to fall asleep. "He likes his scalp scratched," Pretty Lady suggested quietly. "Or when you scratch the top of his spine, right at the nape of his neck."
And then he did exactly as she said as if her just talking about it hadn't been enough to do me in. Tweek had nails too, which was really fucking nice. Mother of God, he was tag-teaming me. The feel of those nails raking across the roots of my hair and my spine was catastrophically incredible. On the verge of passing out, teetering between reality and nothing, my words were slurred and caught on my tongue but I said them anyways. "Yer givin' 'im all mah secrets, Pridlay."
"Don't talk gibberish, Craig." She had such a mother's voice. I'd always listened to my mom, but only after Ruby was born just so she wouldn't have to bare two burdens. I'd listen to Clyde's girlfriend, too. It was just hard to shake off the old habit.