The night seemed never-ending as the stars expanded into the great blackness above, ticking time in a slow drizzle that was painstaking. Each twinkling light above blurred together as sleeplessness melded thoughts into a garbled mess. Feet paced the small room of childhood, painted a sickening green above white French trim and a creamy brown below. The crème carpet was a mess of coffee stains from shaking hands over the years, the bed a jumbled mess of mussed up sheets from the previous nights affair with a husky Frenchmen. Each time his confused eyes landed on the bed his cheeks burned hot and something primal stirred within, something that made his insides tumble as flashes of memory circulated like a camera reel.
He padded across the plush carpet and flipped through a picture album he kept tucked away in a hidden drawer of his window seat, eyes scanning images of him and Craig together, arms thrown around shoulders, candidly flipping the camera off, action shots of their childhood on skateboards with bruised and scraped elbows, intimate photos of messed hair and tired eyes laying in bed, the rare photo of blurry selfie-shots of kisses shared in private. Each page he flipped through, each shot he stared at, he felt a twinge tickle at his insides, his lips winking upward slightly.
Grey eyes swirling like liquid mercury, hot breath on his neck, the accented groan in his ear….
Tweek swallowed hard at the memory of the night before as he tried to stamp down the fire that burned through him thinking about the gentle touch of those calloused fingers. Huffing he left the album at the window and threw himself into bed facefirst, instantly regretting it as the earthy smell of Christophe greeted him and more emotions surged through.
"Shit, this is insane," he mumbled to himself as he rolled over to stare at the ceiling. "Completely, utterly, insane," he huffed dramatically, rubbing at his eyes that burned from sleeplessness.
Here he had been together with Craig under cover for years, had shared craved feelings for longer, and one night with the French boy was driving him wild, making him forget that. It's not as if he and Craig had a bad relationship – sure, very few people knew about it, and Craig may still have been taking girlfriends as well, but they didn't have a bad relationship. Sure, they fought, and argued, and sometimes Craig's lack of emotional depth could be harrowing, in the least, but they still loved each other…right?
He thought about the night he saw Craig catch the other boy by the lips, and how hurt he had been, how betrayed he had felt, and under it all, how angry he was at it all. How he wondered if maybe it wasn't an isolated incident. How Craig was so cautious about their actions in public, about just what they could and couldn't do….surely, Craig never would cheat with his paranoid heart. And he had never before caused Tweek to wonder if maybe he was fooling around, never gave him cause to concern himself. Although Craig was cruel and harsh and reserved even under the cover of solitude, Tweek knew what they shared couldn't be shared with anyone else.
And yet, here he was, letting his mind fabricate the existence of a relationship with Kenny.
And Christophe…he had never felt anything more than the bond of friendship with him…or had he? Tweek thought back to the monster movie Fridays with Clyde that Christophe had bowed out of to attend to affairs in North Park, and how jealous he felt knowing exactly what those "affairs" were. He thought back to the summer on the lake with the girls and all their friends, and his blushing appreciation for the shimmering, scarred muscles that worked as Chirstophe swam laps around Token's boat. He thought back to their Friday night, and the unreserved motions that were timed in a knowing sequence. Had it been out of spite and resent for Craig, a rebellious rendezvous to hurt his raven-haired boyfriend, or had it been something much deeper?
"Motherfucker," he mumbled to himself, knowing all too well what the fluttering in his stomach and the burn of his cheeks meant.
When he dreamed, everything was in grey scale. Two hands reached out to him as he stood on a ledge, one with long spindly fingers with a dusting of freckles, the other rough and calloused and stained from soil. Besides the hands reaching, all he could see in the shadow of two faces were eyes. Green eyes seeking, pleading, and calm reserved grey eyes quietly questioning. As he tumbled backwards over the edge of the cliff he stood he reached out and grasped at a hand and awoke with a start, heart in his throat as he looked around blindly to shut off the blaring alarm echoing through his room.
As he shut the alarm on his phone off and saw it was already eleven o' clock – when had he fallen asleep? – he tried to remember whose hand he had taken as he skirted on the edge, and couldn't. Instead, he got up to find himself alone in the house with a note on the counter in the curly script of his mother: Don't forget you'll be closing the store tonight! No need to be in before three. Love you baby. Mom.
Going about busing himself a cup of coffee and grabbing one of the pasties he had furiously baked the day before, Tweek settled into the tall kitchen table and stared out the bright window with a sigh. Today he had no choice but to see Craig, no choice but to be forced into the uncomfortable silence of a crowded room. It made him anxious knowing he'd be vulnerable in front of everyone they had grown up with, everyone that knew not the wiser of their tainted relationship. It made him frightened to think of Craig in a situation with a microphone in front of everyone, and what he could do to him.
He wished he could be at the intimidating side of Christophe when Craig walked into their coffee shop that night, wished they could pretend nothing had happened and everything was the same as it had always been, but he knew better. As he fussed around the house with chores, he couldn't get the angry look of Christophe's out of his mind, and called is cell phone. It rang and rang and went to voice mail, but that wasn't a deterrent for Tweek. Sure, the Mole usually answered on two rings or less, but who knew, it was probably just an off day for everyone.
On the twenty-fourth attempt over two hours, a yawning voice answered. "What?"
"Oh my god Christophe I was so worried and I'm sorry and I thought we could talk and—"
"Oh my god Tweek, knock it off," came the same tired voice, but one that was pinpointed to the nasally accent of Clyde.
"Holy shit, dude, why are you answering Chirstophe's phone?" Tweek asked, anxiety clawing at his throat. The French boy never left his phone in easy reach of anyone else, and most certainly not in the easy grasp of his annoying step-brother.
Another sleepy yawn. "Well, I mean, it was going off and off so I came into his room, right, and I turned it on vibrate so I wouldn't have to hear it, and then I laid down and fell asleep and damnit if the phone wasn't under my face and woke me up, man."
His heart stopped as he feared for his friend's safety. "You slept in Christophe's room? You know how he is about his room."
"But his bed was so comfy!" Clyde whined, the phone muffling, and Tweek imagined the boy making a bed angel in Christophe's sheets. "He won't know, anyway. He left yesterday afternoon on the bike, didn't say where he was going, but Mom was beyond pissed so I can only imagine he went up to the base to see his real dad. Or who knows, maybe he's out in the wilderness being a little freak like he usually is. Who knows, all I know is, I slept soooo good."
"Aren't you worried?" he asked, chewing on the nubs of his nails as he folded towels on the sofa.
He could almost hear the sound of gears straining as Clyde thought. "Well, no. I mean it's Rissy. He can take care of himself better than anyone else I know." His voice turned thoughtful and kind. "He just needs some space, and time, Tweek. He'll be okay."
Tweek stopped, his mouth watering as his heart galloped. "Wh—what? What do you know?"
"I know that these Tweek special treats Bebe brought me yesterday are fucking delicious!" Clyde exclaimed, all seriousness leaving his voice like a child that saw a fluffy puppy for the first time. "So I'll see you tonight at the shop, okay? See ya!"
With a sigh Tweek put his phone down, feeling no less worried about tonight…maybe more so, now knowing that Christophe had gone awol. But it was Craig's penetrating green eyes that stared at him from the background of his phone that roiled his stomach and made him dread what was to come.
…
As it was every evening the band played, kids started rolling into the renovated and expanded coffee shoppe around five to choose drinks and sweet treats to make it through the musical ensemble. The band themselves were there as well, Kyle and Peter setting up equipment and linking into the delicate sound system of the coffee parlor. Tweek kept his head low and his eyes down, focused solely on helping make the sugary drinks and pass out confections to the kids he grew up with, avoiding any possible interaction with Craig as he spent meticulous time tapping cinnamon on latte foam and spreading caramel drizzle across whipped crème.
It was surprisingly easy to ignore his raven-haired torment with the recent renovations of the shop. Before, the store had been small and opened to the small counter on the left with a few café style tables along the right wall. Now, that wall had been knocked down into the store next door they had bought, and turned it into an arched doorway with open pillars leading into a bigger seating area around a small stage in the back corner. On normal days, the stage area was shrouded with lacey crème and teal curtains and lit with tiny faerie lights that melted into the room and gave it a homey, romantic atmosphere – but on nights like tonight, the curtains were drawn back, exposing the musicians, but leaving the lace as a delicate foamy presence; his mother was nothing if not a design expert.
The bells over the door seemed to be constant as the kids of old streamed in to find seats in the café styled area across the way, buzzing with excited chatter, never missing an opportunity to support one of their own. He saw her before she entered and he smiled as he readied two drinks, the jingling of the bell letting him know they made it.
"Here you are!" Tweek said with a smile as he met the delicate hazel eyes of Bebe, her frothy hair in a cute updo, Clyde bobbing at her side with a wide grin.
"You are too kind," she said with a wink as she took the caramel coffee from the counter and glanced around, giving a curt little wave to her girlfriends in the front, and a few nods of acknowledgement to some of the others.
"Seriously, this is sooo good," Clyde said as he shoved a sticky treat in his mouth happily. "Oh my god, this is gonna be a good show if you keep me loaded up on these, my main man."
Bebe knocked him in the arm as she took a seat at her usual spot at the bar, feeling like it wasn't fair to leave Tweek all alone. "How're you feeling, Blondie?"
He smiled, although his insides were tumbling when he caught the blue-hatted boy in his peripherals, twanging at his guitar and twisting the dials unhappily. "Okay, I guess. I just don't know yet," he offered honestly as Clyde scampered off to talk to Kevin Stolley.
"Well, that's understandable, I can only assume you've been ignoring him since he showed up," she said with a knowing smile as she took a sip of her drink. "And that's okay, for now, but you'll have to talk to him."
"I know," he said with a sigh as he finished off a smoothie for the grinning mug of Ike Broflovski. Finding the bar empty he finally raised his eyes to the giggling, chattering crowd, and beyond. There Craig sat in his usual blue lapringer, smoothing down those naturally luscious locks, long fingers picking at the strings of his guitar as he nodded his head to some internal rhythm. His heart swelled and melted into a pool, and an unwitting smile poked through as he watched.
"I hear Chris left," Bebe said, startling him out of his reverie. "But I wouldn't worry too much, he'll come back, he always does."
Tweek busied himself with wiping down the counters and washing off dishes, completely oblivious to the people around him as he thought. He'd never seen Christophe so off his game, so angry and lucid all at the same time, and yet, he was sure that he'd be okay like everyone said.
"Yeah, you're probably right," he said, looking up in time to see Clyde storming over with his own personal Hell on his heels.
"Speaking of Christophe!" Clyde lamented dramatically as Bebe rolled her eyes. "I cannot believe my own brother, my own flesh and blood, would keep such a secret from me and share it with my girlfriend! How mean! Why wouldn't he trust me with that?"
"With what?" Craig asked dolely as he looked between them and crossed his arms, managing to look bored.
"That he likes Tweek," he said, using his hands to gesture wildly. "Like likes likes. Who would have ever guessed! But noooo, Bebe already knew."
A brow raised as Craig's gaze narrowed on the guilty look of Bebe. "You knew?"
"I know all," she said cheerfully. "But it doesn't really matter, does it, Craig?" she asked, tempting him with her cotton-candy smile.
He glanced at Tweek, whom seemed to be melting to the floor, gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary, enough for the blonde to be able to red, what? Hurt? Longing? Something. Finally he turned with a shrug. "I guess not. It's just….different. I better get back."
Tweek let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as Craig walked away and Bebe patted his shoulder with a soft smile. "That wasn't bad, was it?"
"Worse," he squeaked.
Soon, the lights dimmed over the second seating area, leaving only the soft glow of the faerie lights around the stage and across the high beams of the ceiling. With his usual lopsided grin and trademark orange jacket, Kenny bobbed onto stage and princess-waved to the crowd. Behind him Peter sat at his drum set, twirling the sticks between his fingers nimbly, Kyle perked on a stool with a bass in hand to his right, and Craig sat at the beat-up piano the Tweak's kept, guitar sitting idly by on a stand. "Welcome South Parkians! Thanks for coming out to our unsual Sunday night show! And of course for continually supporting our Friday night needs to party. Let's get this show on the roll!"
They played in amazing sync, Kenny and Kyle switching between providing the vocals, leaving the set exciting and different, each song that had been heard before played just slightly different to accommodate the one singing. Some songs were uplifting, leaving the crowd to bounce along in time to the peppy lyrics, some more somber, leaving an atmosphere of melancholy. Some were silly – obviously the work of Kenny's genius – and some told incredible love stories that none of the boys had ever experienced. It was nearing eight o clock when among empty cups and crumby plates Kenny took a seat on the top of the stairs leading up to the stage, the microphone in his hand as he looked out over the crowd.
"For our last song, we'll be debuting something different for you, a song written entirely by Craig, from lyrics to chords and everything in between. Before we get started, thanks again for coming out and supporting our bad habits," he said with a grin as they situated themselves. Everyone watched almost dumbstuck as they set up for an acoustic performance, something they rarely indulged in. Kyle began to strum first, his red curls bobbing in time to the rhythm he set, Pete tapping along slowly, flipping his fringe out of his face. Craig joined in on the piano, long fingers gliding over the keys expertly as Kenny's rapturous voice sliced through the crowd.
"The stars above, shining bright/almost makes me forget you tonight.
The cold September breeze/does nothing but remind me,
I'm a fool/Impervious to being cruel.
And as I watch you walk away, I realize."
The music swelled as everyone seemed caught in rapture. Tweek held his breath as he watched Kenny sing the words that Craig mouthed under his breath, watched his hands slide carelessly over the white and black keys, watched those green eyes meet his and knew as Craig's lips moved with the words he was singing directly to him.
"I need you, deep like the ocean depths,
I need you, like a dying man's last breath.
And I'm sorry, for never being enough,
And I'm sorry, for hurting you so much."
Tweek felt like he was drowning as the music crashed at him, drawing the last breath he had and pouring down his throat as his eyes burned. Why, why did Craig make him feel like this? It was insane…but as he met those deep green eyes, he could feel the same emotions echoing out in waves.
"Bitter wicked hearts/enough to call my bluff.
Twisted awful revenge/the sickness associated with them.
And I'm a fool/but you, you're so damn cruel
So as we part our ways/I can't help but make you stay."
Everyone seemed caught by the spell that was Kenny's deep, husky voice dripping with the emotion the lyrics wrote, caught by the rhythm that Kyle, Peter, and Craig kept. Tweek closed his eyes against the feelings welling up inside, against the pleading look the raven-haired boy gave.
"I need you, deep like the ocean depths,
I need you, like a dying man's last breath.
And I'm sorry, for never being enough,
And I'm sorry, for hurting you so much.
Autumn fog/can't hide what has been done.
Blurred scars/can't bleed them anymore.
And I'm a fool/but damn, was I so cruel
So as we turn away, please, can I make you stay? Because…"
Everyone was on the edge of their seats as they watched the foursome strum along to the end, and gasped as a gruff voice echoed Kenny's, catching even the blonde vocalist off guard as Craig joined in the lyrics.
"I need you, deep like the ocean depths,
I need you, like a dying man's last breath.
And I'm sorry, for never being enough,
And I'm sorry, for loving you so much.
So hold on, and I'll make you stay…"
As the last chord reverberated through the air, an intake of breath echoed as everyone found themselves letting out the held breath no one knew they were holding. A round of applause rang through the coffee shoppe, Clyde obviously the loudest of everyone as he hooted and hollered and bumrushed the boys on stage. Tweek, instead, slid into the back stock room and sat down, hands over his face, more unsure now than ever before. How could unemotional, bored, disdainful Craig write such a soft song? How could he plead through lymrics, share such deep feelings through song, but never in person? How could he be so conniving, manipulating Tweek to feel so selfish and worthless as he did now?
A rustle of curtains and a blonde head poked in, a sad smile on fushia lips as Bebe looked at the boy that seemed so low. "Tweek, darling? Everyone is almost gone. I went ahead and helped your moma pick up the dishes. You know….Craig's hanging around, helping out as well, but I know he's just waiting to see you. Maybe you should give him an audience."
"I don't know what to do or say, Bebe," he said, sighing, feeling exhausted as he stood up and suffered a smile for her sake.
She patted his shoulder warmly and gave him a hug. "I know, but it'll be okay. He's just as nervous as you. Come on, Blondie."
Together, they walked out of the back room to see Clyde sitting at the bar playing on his phone, Craig wiping away at tables, and his parents putting the last of the dishes in the washers to sterilize for the morning. Heaving a sigh he said his goodbyes to his friends, promised his mother he'd lock up and be home by ten, and was left in the stifling silence with Craig.
Hoping to make the torture go as quickly as possible, Tweek grabbed the already filled mop bucket and got to work on the fake woodloium, scrubbing with the damp mop behind the counter and working outward, so the front area would be dry by the time he was done, a routine he followed every time he closed the shop.
As he was starting to make the pass in front of the counter and under the few tables in the main shoppe, Craig pulled the mop from his fingers, a careful look about the boy that paused the duties of closing up the café.
"It's okay, Tweek," he offered with a languid smile that barely pulled up, the sadness etched in those clear meadow eyes. "Really."
For the first time since he saw Craig step into the shoppe earlier that evening, he really looked into his eyes…and exploded. Tugging at his hair he fell into a chair and shook his head wildly, disagreeing completely. "Okay? Really? Nothing is okay, Craig, and you know it. Nothing will ever be okay—"
"It will be if you let it," Craig said with certainty as he continued the meager task of mopping, knuckles white against the strain he held back. "But you won't. Why is that?"
"I don't know what to feel, what to be, how to act, I don't know anything anymore!" Tweek exclaimed, glaring, feeling the thunderous roil of emotions bellow through him in a confused clamour. "I wish it was Thursday and everything was fine again."
"I'm not sure it being Thursday would change this anyway," Craig finally said, looking up to the blonde. "Did you know Christophe was attracted to you?"
Tweek stopped abruptly and looked up, a brow raised in concern. "Well, no—"
"I kind of did. I saw the same thing in him that I felt. The guilt. The need to hide, to be reserved, to seem, well, unseeming. I didn't think anything of it. We've been caught up in each other since child hood, as much as we sometimes deny it. I didn't think anything could get in my way.
"But it's okay, this is what I do to you, isn't it? When I take girlfriends. When I find someone with a nice rack and date them, fuck them. I make you second, even if I never thought of it like that. I put someone else ahead of you, so no one will know of you. It's like that with Christophe, so I'm not incredibly bothered. I was, originally. I was pissed, at you for falling so easily, at him for stealing you. But then I thought about it.
"And its nothing I haven't done to you. The only difference is, the girls I take to bed, they mean nothing. There's no shred of emotional attachment there. Nothing. But with Christophe, well, he presents a challenge, doesn't he?"
Tweek stared at the floor, face aflame in shame, knowing exactly how easy he was to read, especially for Craig. "He's my best friend…of course I do."
"You feel more for him than just a friendly manner, and you know it. Don't be coy with me, Tweek. I'm, grudgingly, okay with that. Because I don't easily lose, and I won't easily let someone else steal you away," he said at last, a smile of resolution on his face. This was the Craig he had fallen so hard for, the Craig that was the wicked winner, no matter how many fouls were played to get there, this was the determined Craig that had a goal in mind and did everything in his power to reach it obsessively. This was a Craig he was mildly afraid of.
And insanely attracted to.
Without a second thought he pulled Craig down by the strings of his hat and met lips to lips, forcing his tongue in, savoring the electrical thrill that shot up his spine he hadn't felt in ages when kissing Craig. He didn't know if it was the added thrill knowing the raven-haired boy was going to fight for him, or the soft side shown through song, but something lit a fire that had been smoldering out for months and turned the two to a liquid puddle under the dimly glowing faerie lights hanging above in the cross-beamed rafters.
When they parted ways in front of the shoppe's locked doors well after ten o clock, Tweek couldn't help the guilty feeling that welled up inside as he walked the silent night streets on his way home as the image of Christophe flashed dangerously in his mind. Looking up at the starlight hanging bright above in the heaven's, Tweek cursed.
Damnit…he was falling in love with the Mole.
A/N: One, I'm not a musician by any means. So I pulled that straight out of my bum and don't even think about critiquing it. I can do a lot of things...write songs is not one of them. Two...well, well, well, the plot thickens! Still, though, who will Tweek ultimately choose? We shall see! Next chapter...the Mole returns! Muehahaha~! xoxox Corrie