This is the most important chapter to date and it is dedicated to AzyumiChan for creating a beautiful piece of fan art for this story. I am in love with it as well as her. My heart cannot be stopped. Be wooed, my readers, for her tumblr is right here: thateccentricasiangirl . tumblr . com.

A man's work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three great and simple images in whose presence his heart first opened.

—Albert Camus

Also, I was given this review by w0rmsign: "Classic TBane: Craig had his overabundance of boners *organised*." HAHAHA. Classic tbane. Oh, that's a good one.

And then one day—oh, one day it snuck up on me.

I was laying on the couch in the living room, a beagle at my head and another at my feet, jotting down words that creeped me out in the hopes of igniting some type of hidden fear inside of me. So far I had things like: milking, rim job, testes, and tinkle. My fears seemed to be of the sexual kind, I guessed.

I'd been contemplating my project for so long that I lost myself for a moment and when I returned to focus I saw blue, green, yellow, black scribbled around the paper and was in the midst of adding pink. They weren't colors that I was scared of, just ones that stalked me relentlessly. It wasn't that I even cared about this project so much as I was just using it to disregard my stupid dream, although clearly it wasn't working as I'd hoped.

There was just something that I wasn't getting. Some vital detail that brought everything together. It was floating around in my subconscious—wherever the hell that was—invisible to the forefront of my conscious and separate from the things that I actually knew without having to search. This dream was a knowledge that I couldn't reach and yet I liked to tease myself with it. It was abusive toward my curiosity, but I couldn't stop. I wanted to be aware, to remove this sense of obliviousness, except it was difficult and I couldn't fathom why.

All I could gather was that the colors happened to correspond with Tweek and I. There was blue for my eyes and green for his; there was yellow for his hair and black for mine. Pink for his blush, maybe? He had been lodged inside my head for an unreasonable amount of time, so it only made sense. But what did it mean? If that was even correct. If that was the way I was supposed to go with my dream.

Perhaps all of those blobs in my paintings weren't bumblebees and sunflowers. Maybe I was thinking too much into understanding my dream, when the only thing I needed to do was realize it. Because I did already know whatever I was trying to tell myself. The only thing left to happen was an epiphany. The probability of that actually happening was most likely very low seeing as it's been a week and no enlightenment has presented itself to me. There was a possibility that I was too tired to have an epiphany. Waking up regularly in the middle of the night was expected now and waking up in the morning with sore hands from drawing all night has left me with a drained brain and exhausted fingers.

Because of that, it wasn't unusual for me to space out and doodle almost as thoughtlessly as I did while sleep drawing.

In my head I was remembering those first couple of days.

Pages of my sketchbook were becoming a timeline as I thought of all these things and recorded them even though I was sure they were already in my room somewhere with all of the others. Even when repeating images and instances with Tweek I was enthralled. My scribbling was rough and hazardous to the paper when I favored a particular line in Tweek's features for too long or turned to the next page too sharply. I was just recalling so much and I had to get it all down. Something about this was important. Somewhere in all of these crude sketches was an inkling and I was picking at it like you would a scab because it needed to come off.

Tweek had been so nervous to reacquaint with me that I'd given up on caring about why Kenny had brought him to me at all. He'd been so sad for reasons I still didn't know, and his level of honesty hadn't been characteristic I don't think. I knew personal information about him from him. We weren't best friends. It wasn't like so many years had passed and the truth was finally ready to come out. No, there was a distinct reason why he was so open with me. There was a reason why he blushed when I got too close or said certain things. His heart had beat so fast when I'd fallen asleep on him on the couch and he'd lit up after I'd kissed him.

It was peculiar how Pretty Lady liked to question me about the blonde, but nothing like whether or not I thought he was an okay dude or if I minded him and Kenny always stopping by. She wanted to know if I thought he was cute, what I thought of our kiss. She had read all of our letters and constantly suggested that he come back soon. It was suspicious behavior like she was trying to get me somewhere or push me in a specific direction.

From what felt like the background, as though I were the only one in focus and everything around me was blurred nonsense, Clyde laughed and said, "Dude, I think Craig's having a brain blast over there." Despite hearing him, his words didn't register and the only thing I could think was that my opinion mattered to Tweek. On his second visit he'd been so distraught at his own compulsive reaction to falling face first into the couch. He'd been embarrassed and disappointed in himself but had allowed me to fix it. He'd listened to me because he cared about what I thought and he'd tried to reshape his own feelings toward himself to mimic mine.

I recalled times where he'd stepped a little farther out of his puny little shell, times where he'd openly admit to aspects of me being admirable like my chub when I ate too much, that he thought I was cute, and times when he'd let me get close to him. And this was because he was comfortable with me. Tweek was a person who picked and chose those who would surround him and he'd selected me as one of them. That was saying something—I know it was—but for the love of God I wasn't even making sense to myself between my furious scribbling and racing mind.

And what was up with Kenny informing me about all of Tweek's quirks? Kenny was practically giving him to me, had been the entire time. I knew exactly which pocket of his bag contained his medication. I knew exactly how to calm him down from a nightmare and what pill to give him. That next morning he'd stayed awake while I slept. There was a time shortly after where I had caught him sizing me up which was acceptable because he was gay and I was a good looking guy, but there it was again, this hidden fact inside my subconscious that nagged at me and nagged and nagged and nagged. There's been a fondness in his eyes more than once and he couldn't lie to me without telling me the truth immediately after. He chose to sleep with me, chose to cuddle with me, chose to stay in my bed when I left for work, and he'd chosen to kiss me again.

Tweek had let me in. I knew what cleared his head, I knew what made him laugh, I knew what made him blush, I knew what made him feel better, I knew how to take care of him. There was so much information that he held so close that he'd decided to share with me, that Kenny had decided to share with me also. They wanted me to know this mental side of Tweek almost as if it were some type of test. Kenny wanted to see if I could handle him. If I could take care of him. If I could overlook his fragility. If I was capable of removing his issues from the equation entirely because anxiety, paranoia, and prescribed pills weren't the only things that made up Tweek Tweak as a human.

And then I began replaying snippets from past conversations and I wondered if things were beginning to make sense.

"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."

His cockblock crush was the only thing he was secretive about. He wouldn't confide in me, not then and not in any of the other circumstances where this person was brought up. This illusive, mystery man that was probably imaginary for all I knew. Maybe Tweek was embarrassed that his dream dude wasn't real, and that was why he didn't want to tell me.

"He's a bit of a germaphobe, but it's not a severe case of OCD. Not like his other compulsions. You should see him in a motel room. You're lucky that he knows you guys, otherwise he wouldn't be handling any of this as well as he is."

"He told me pretty easily," I mused, referring to our conversation over the phone a few days prior. I wasn't sure if Kenny knew that I knew about the general overview of Tweek's medication.

"That's because," the blonde began, sifting through a couple of bags on the kitchen table that must've belonged to either of them, "you're different."

I'll bet I was fucking different alright. Different enough to get permission into this kid's nut job life for apparently being classified as "different". Different as in douche bag maybe, but entrusting me with one's mental issues wasn't something that anyone did because of that. Clyde didn't even trust me with his phone because he knew I would take pictures of my dick from weird angles and transfer his girlfriend's nudes to my phone in exchange, which would then circulate to Token who would give them back to Clyde because the brunette would cry when I fucked with him. His tears made my apathetic dickhole self happy.

"I'm not sitting in the bed."

"You sound so sure about that," Kenny sniggered.

Tweek had just enough time to glare at him before Pretty Lady said, "I suppose I could trade my spot in the truck for the one in the bed if you kiss Craig again." His features were utterly blank for a moment, though his blood knew just how to react. A blush burst across his cheeks, and he must've felt the heat, because his eyes widened suddenly. The color in his face brought out their lovely green hue. I wanted to paint him in that instant and knew that when I did get the chance to do so, he'd be blushing when I did. I'd make him if I had to. I'd sit at my easel naked just as long as it got his cheeks to turn that exact shade of bubblegum pink.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. His lips looked nice, full and shapely in their state of shock. It was a good emotion on him, I decided. My gaze moved to settle on Clyde's girlfriend who was grinning slyly. "You planned this," I accused her, suspicious of what she was trying to gain. Did she have some secret homosexual fetish that we didn't know about?

"I wouldn't say planned." Her grin grew more sinister. "I just saw an opportunity and took it."

But that hadn't been an opportunity she'd seen. Pretty Lady knew things that were too precise for an introverted Craig Tucker to access. She had implied her knowledge the entire time and was leading me—it—I didn't know—somewhere. God, that hadn't been an opportunity at all. It'd been a secret she'd known and taken advantage of.

Pretty Lady asked me another question, something she seemed to be full of tonight. "Are you going to miss him?"

This time I couldn't shrug away my response. "A little, probably. I don't want to screw myself over again just because he's not here." But I got used to drawing him, and I liked to draw him, and he ended up being the only thing I wanted to draw, so when I couldn't anymore, it was like my talent became useless.

"He misses you, too."

This was the kind of stuff that she knew. She sorted through it all and gave me bits and pieces of what she thought would nudge me wherever it was I was ultimately going. Things like Tweek missed me. I was supposed to gather something from that. A hint from that goddamn woman who refused tell me outright what was going on.

"Have you kissed at all since I bribed him into doing it the other day?"

Now I knew she was trying to get at something. "Nope." She was disappointed in this, and I was suspicious.

For a minute she fumbled with one of the bags in her lap. "Do you think you might?"

"I really haven't thought about it." My eyes narrowed as I turned into our apartment complex.

"Oh. Okay." She said nothing more as I parked the car, got out, and was equally silent all the way up the stairs. It was at the door where we shared matching amounts of dinner and beverage that, as we attempted to kick the door down, she suggested, "Maybe you should."

And so I had, although I couldn't be sure whether I'd done it on my own terms or because I'd been inspired by her advice. What got me was that Tweek had reciprocated even though he was supposed to have it out for this cockblock crush. Essentially he was cheating in his own head, kissing me while he was eternally smitten with some other guy. There was a part of that which just felt odd, not that he liked someone else but who that someone was.

I had never minded that he clearly wanted to get all hot and bothered by another dude. Caring in general about something like that wasn't even necessarily a part of my character, but still. I'd never once doubted that this person had anything on me, and maybe that was because I didn't have anyone to compete against.

"Then get a boyfriend." He questioned me like he hadn't heard me. "Get a steady boyfriend that lives out here and they won't think anything of it." But Tweek was prude because he only had eyes for one guy. "Your cockblock crush might not like it and your boyfriend might not like it because you'll be hanging out with me all the time but—"

Tweek started laughing this light, whimsical sound. His cheeks were tinged pink. "Just shut up, Craig. That idea's stupid."

I leaned back against the wall, mission accomplished. "It's a foolproof idea, dude."

"Shut your mouth," he ordered. There was something flirtatious about the way he was grinning at me, all cheeky and such.

"You can't possibly be a slut when you're strictly a one-man type of a guy," I continued.

Because that's exactly what he was. Tweek was indefinitely a one-man type of guy.

But how did that explain why he'd been kissing me? That meant something. Everything meant something. I was someone and this cockblock crush was someone and it was getting harder to tell the difference between the two of us.

"You never kissed your boyfriend?"

"What?" He asked quickly, blinking rapidly.

"You said you've kissed a girl but not a guy. You've had a boyfriend, though. You just never kissed him?" I didn't blame him for breaking it off with Tweek if that was the case. He couldn't even kiss someone who wasn't his cockblock crush? Even when "someone" was his boyfriend?

Except he'd let me kiss him.

Maybe he was over it. Maybe that boyfriend of his had been years ago and he's realized since then that holding out for some unrequited crush was useless. He's just never gotten with another man since.

Whatever it was, it was too complicated for my simplistic way of thinking and suddenly I wished I hadn't even brought it up.

"I lied," he blurted out. There was guilt and apology in his expression, so blatantly obvious that I didn't have to draw him to know what it was. "I—I did it so I could— I just wanted to kiss you, okay?" His palm thumped again his forehead and he peeked at me from around his wrist. "It—I—uh, God. I didn't meant to lie! I'm so sorry for lying b-but it just h-happened, you know?" Mood switching violently to desperation, he murmured, "You wouldn't have done it otherwise."

This guy was a riot. Obviously he didn't know who Craig Tucker was because if something was going to happen, Craig Tucker always found a way to make it happen whatever the circumstance.

"Yeah, I would've."

I mean, obviously I had been destined to kiss Tweek Tweak...or maybe he'd been the one destined to kiss me. Kenny had brought him to me to let it happen because Kenny was like the universe and placed people where they needed to go and when.

Sighing irritably, I rubbed at my face with my free hand. Even making a joke out of this didn't help me understand.

"Have you ever shown him these?"

I shook my head. The blonde actually hadn't seen much of anything that was related to my artwork. I've been too busy coddling him—ironically—with my artwork for him to view any of it.

"You should," she suggested. "He'll like all of them."

Snorting, I asked, "He won't think I'm creepy and stay in South Park forever?"

The brunette girl laughed at my humor before surely stating, "I think he'll be flattered."

That didn't sound too bad. That actually sounded quite rewarding. "Flattered enough to suck me off?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You don't need to flatter him for that."

Oh fucking really. I wanted to rip out all of the pages of my sketchbook and eat them I was getting so worked up over this. Who the hell told somebody that in order to get Tweek to suck one off that one doesn't even need to flatter the guy? I think it was common courtesy to at least compliment a person before putting a dick in their mouth; the worst being "You'll look good with my dick in your mouth," but at least it was something. Supposedly I didn't even need to tell the blonde anything to stick it in. I could just go up to him and do it.

Was Clyde's girlfriend a retard or something?

My brows rose in curiosity. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she said, "I don't know. Why don't you figure out the meaning of that dream of yours and maybe that'll help."

Well that was a low blow. I pursed my lips because that dream was still a phenomenon and the woman I lived with had just used it to take a stab at me. "Do you know something that I don't?"

"You poor, poor man," was all she said for a minute. During that minute I watched her shuffle through any remaining papers until she was finished. "What?" She finally asked. My obvious silence was her answer. "I know many, many things that I can't wait for you to realize."

Because I definitely needed her to be just as vague as my goddamn dream. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I can't say anything to you because it will be so much sweeter if you do it on your own." She scratched her cheek to shake off my unrelenting stare.

"Dude," I huffed. "You fucking suck."

Her smile was excited. "Speaking of fucking, I put Tweek's number in your phone. So you should text him. Or call him."

Speaking of fucking? Is that what she just said to me? "What?" I was so genuinely confused.

"It'll make his life knowing you finally got his number, okay? Just do it."

I was concentrating on everything all at once. The hand job, his orgasm, how he liked tall guys with hands bigger than his own and hips; how he'd asked if we could do that all the time, and how he hadn't wanted to leave this last time or any of the other times, and I was positive that all he could think about in South Park was when he would come back to Lakewood, and how happy he always sounded every time I called, and He told me that I was t-too hung up on a stupid crush over s-someone else and He misses you too and I just wanted to kiss you, okay?and I know many, many things that I can't wait for you to realize and It'll make his life knowing you finally got his number, okay?

On my final sketch I was scribbling fastidiously this make-believe guy that would've been Tweek's boyfriend. He was the type of guy I imagined the blonde going for. I just wasn't sure about the specifics besides tall, big hands, and hips. Would his hair be brunette with a faux hawk kind of cut? Was his build masculine in comparison to Tweek's dainty figure? Did he have hazel eyes and long lashes? Were his lips thin or shapely? Was he the type of guy that would be suspected as being gay or was his sexuality a surprise? Maybe Tweek liked feminine guys and guys with soft hearts and someone who played sports or was a piano more attractive to him?

Facial features, bone structure, body statures, hair and color and appearance were funneling through my head. A whirlwind of all the potential guys Tweek might be interested in jam packing my brain but none of them were working and it was too much and yet my pencil was still going and maybe this was some crazy out of body experience or maybe my subconscious was finally releasing knowledge into the forefront of my brain and maybe I was understanding and maybe this was my epiphany moment because I was most definitely drawing someone next to Tweek and I knew right then that it was his cockblock crush he's had it out for, the one he wouldn't tell me about because it was me. I was the cockblock crush and I was drawingmyself.

And then suddenly:

"You have a crush on Spiderman."

"What? I—yeah, okay. Maybe a small one." Clyde rolled off the couch whining about being stuck with such a gay fuck, and when his girlfriend commented that she found it cute, his whimpers grew more heightened.

"So that's who your cockblock crush is? The one your boyfriend broke up with you over?"

Not to mention that punching me in the genitals was totally flirting.

Tweek eased me to the ground...He was trying to make it up to me by saying, "I can't believe you just let me do that. You deserve to be Spiderman. You're Spiderman, Craig. I'm sorry for calling you Mary Jane. I'm s-so sorry, Craig."

...Oh.

When I thought of drawing, I thought of myths and fables and fairies because fairies were capable of this thing called a glamour. It was like a second skin almost. It showed the eye what it wanted to see, not what was really there. And people with an ability called sight could see through this glamour just like how I could see what was underneath personal barriers. I saw it and I drew it. People couldn't hide from me; Tweek couldn't hide from me. Because I knew. I knew that I was the guy he's been obsessed with.

I sprang from the couch and catapulted myself across the room to where Token and Clyde were eating at the kitchen table. At my abrupt movement the Julibeagles took off running and barking, chasing each other around in their excitement while similarly I could barely contain myself.

"I'm the cockblock crush!" I announced, positive that I was making no sense, but that was alright, because my two best friends were about to understand everything just as I had.

Both of them turned their heads to look at me, confused as they watched me fumble around with the dogs to get over to them. When I reached the table, I slammed my sketchbook down hard enough to rattle their plates. It was open to the first section of the timeline I'd spontaneously crafted. Clyde shoveled more food into his packed mouth as I insisted they pay attention because I was about to blow their minds.

"You guys need to look at this." Token complied, paying close attention as I pointed to the very beginning. "I just solved a mystery and it's crazy." Clyde set his fork down and sat back in his chair grumpily. "That dream I've been having? The one I've been trying to figure out?" They nodded their heads. "I did it." I reflected on my smug excitement and thought of all the ways I could use this crush of Tweek's for things that were going to be a lot of fun for me. "I'm going to have such a field day with this."

"I don't get it. What am I looking at?" Clyde asked impatiently, staring at his food longingly.

"Just flip through the pages," I explained, nudging my sketchbook closer to the two. They began inspecting Tweek's arrival from the very beginning. "I just started thinking about it, Tweek I mean, and all of these little hints and pieces and things Kenny and Pretty Lady would say. This explains why Tweek acts the way he does around me. Why Kenny found me—it wasn't us, it was me—and brought him here. Everything makes sense now."

Even in South Park I could remember times where we'd cross paths, the way he'd ogle at me or blush and hide away inside himself when I happened to pop up at Kenny's house. That had been years ago, though. What was this poor kid doing however many years later stuck in the same infatuation with me? His only boyfriend had broken up with him because of me and I hadn't even been living there at the time. We had never talked, only ever hung out when Kenny was around, and maybe had one class together throughout high school. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to think of that exactly, but I could deduce that he was pretty goddamn loyal to this crush he's had on me.

How long has this been going on? Who else knows about it? Have the people I used to know in South Park always known me as the guy Tweek Tweak has a crush on and not as the guy whose best friends were the gentleman and the stud? No wonder Stan and Kyle never liked me! All this time I never thought they'd had a valid reason, but oh man, they fucking did. They had a good ass reason. I was the one guy nobody should ever like. I couldn't reciprocate. The chances of getting hurt and rejected or just outright ignored were extremely high.

Token glanced up at me, an amused expression on his face. Just as it dawned on me that he's known—this entire time he's known just like everybody else and no one had bothered to tell me—Clyde reeled backwards and made a face as though he'd eaten something ancient and sour. "Oh—oh, God." Looking down, I saw that he'd reached the section of the timeline where Tweek was most definitely having the best time of his life. "Fucking hell, man. The fuck is this? I do not need to see Tweek in the throes of passion. Did you guys fuck or something?"

"No. Don't worry about that, the point is—" Holy shit. "I'm such a fucking idiot." My palm connected with my forehead. "That was his first orgasm!" I outstretched my arms and directed them toward the sketchbook, talking to myself more than my best friends. "Of course he'd give that to me! How come—Jesus Christ. How could I have been so oblivious? He made it so fucking obvious! He practically told me right then! He told me I was Spiderman!"

"Okay, that's nice." Clyde flipped the page, flicking the corner with his finger as though he didn't want to touch the paper with Tweek's panting, blushing face. "I'm still confused as fuck. You and Tweek? Really, dude? He's a nut! And a dude!"

"Just shut up. Stop worrying about that. That doesn't matter."

"No, dude. It does matter." He pointed toward the rough sketch of Tweek and I together. "This is as bad as little girls writing the name of the cutest boy in class all over their diaries or whatever."

I took my sketchbook back and hit him in the face with it. "I was trying to see things from his perspective. I was trying to figure out the type of guy he'd go for and it was me."

"Are you positive?" The brunette asked distastefully. The straight faced look I gave him caused him to groan and rub his eyes. "How ironic that you end up with a kid from South Park. Iknew this was going to happen, damn it. I thought we were done with that place."

"Who decided we were going to 'end up' together?"

Craig Tucker was a lone wolf. Craig Tucker didn't settle down.

Clyde rolled his eyes and tossed his head against the back of the chair. "Tweek's not even here and I feel like he never left. His pictures are everywhere, you bring him up in every conversation, my girlfriend brings him up in every conversation and then you two go back and forth about him. You're as into him as he is you."

My brows hiked at his bitter retort. "Not in the same way, though."

"Close enough," he grumbled.

I waved him away and felt a surge of egotism corrupt me. "I'm fucking Sherlock Holmes, you guys. I figured that shit out so good."

"Of course that's all you'd be excited about," Token laughed. "Great discovery, Craig. I'm proud of you. Now what are you going to do about it?"

My grin was vicious. "Tweek's going to regret ever wanting my nuts."