[Tweek]
Time isn't real.
Which isn't an unusual thing for him. He knows Craig is real, he's solid and with him about 60% of the time. Probably all the time when the other man isn't working, he's in Tweek's line of sight or beside him on the couch at Tweek's place.
He's doing inventory at the shop, organizing the stock room, though it's generally kept in good order. He checks his phone for the date. He nearly drops it.
It can't be...
It can't have been that long since...
He stops, takes a few deep breathes, focuses on the coffee beans and begins sorting them again.
Time isn't real.
Usually a sort of comforting thought, comforting in its familiarity. But he doesn't feel comforted.
He takes another deep breath, just like his therapist says to. He smells the coffee beans, sees them lined up neatly, touches the cool metal rack upon which they sit.
He finishes the sorting, just makes notes on the clipboard really, and returns to the bright, front of the store. His dad is finishing serving the only customer that's come in and offers Tweek a smile before cleaning the counters with the quick efficiency of having done the task thousands of times. He bites his lip, considering. Craig won't be off of work for a few more hours. But he doesn't want to be here.
"Dad..., can I go home?" He asks, his voice surprisingly steady.
"Why, sure son, are you feeling all right?" His dad looks at him with concern.
"I..., uh..., not the best. Mentally." Tweek stammers, trying to be honest with his parents about his mental health, since he's so many issues.
His father stares at him in somber silence for what feels like a long time, but is likely only a few heart beats, before musing off a metaphor and waving Tweek away.
He mumbles his thanks and takes the apron off, hanging it on one of the hooks and scurrying from behind the counter and out the door. Butters watches his friend leave but doesn't move to stop him.
Tweek walks briskly home, not quite hurrying, but anxious to be home. Usually, the coffee shop is a nice, safe place for him. Not today though. He unlocks the door and shuts and locks it behind him, kicking off his shoes and going to sit on the couch, hearing his mother busy in the kitchen. She's humming to herself.
He turns the tv on, lowering the volume to a murmur, he stares at the pictures that flit across the screen without really seeing them.
It comes again, unbidden.
Time isn't real.
The old urge, to grasp at his hair strikes suddenly. His hands go up and he lowers them again. He sits still, back straight, gazing in the direction of the tv.
Another thought surfaces, painful, Wendy.
He swallows thickly, looking away from the tv, glancing to his pockets, searching for his phone. He fumbles it out, types a message to Craig, it takes more tries than usual. It takes more effort not to send him multiple messages. He's at work. He'll answer as soon as he can.
Tweek stares at the tv, flicking anxious glances back to his phone.
Unbidden once more, Wendy.
"I'm not sorry."
His hands reach for his hair, settle for merely clutching his head as he sits there, eventually folding over himself, head between his knees as he sits on the couch, phone all but forgotten on a cushion beside him.
He tries a deep breath. Wheezes. Tries again. Successful. Once more. His phone buzzes. He can't answer yet. He breathes in and out slowly, a few more times. Gradually releasing the grip he's got on his head. Slowly, sitting back up. He leans back into the plush couch and reaches for his phone. Shaking fingers eventually yield an unlock and he sees Craig's response.
Steady Craig. Always Steady. Tears well, but don't fall. He types a response and lays on the couch, phone on his chest. He tries to focus on the tv show. It should distract him until Craig gets off work. If he can stop his mind wandering.
Not soon enough, Tweek gets a text from Craig saying he's outside. He springs from the couch and unlocks the door, letting Craig in. Once he's across the threshold, Tweek buries his face into the tallers chest. He inhales his scent, a mix of cigarettes, laundry detergent, and woodsmoke. Craig.
Craig rumbles a greeting to Tweek's mother as they pass the kitchen, going up the stairs to Tweek's room.
They lay on Tweek's bed, Tweek's head on Craig's chest, Craig's arms around the skinny blond.
Suddenly, Tweek is crying. Craig murmurs to him, asking what's wrong. Tweek cries in silence for a few more minutes before sniffling, "What if you're not here any more?"
Craig exhales, long and slow, stroking Tweek's hair in his usual comforting manner.
"I'll do my best Tweek."
Tweek cries harder, burying his face in his boyfriend's chest.
"I'm sorry...," Craig rumbles, arms tightening around the smaller man for a few moments.
"You don't have to apologize," Tweek mumbles into the soaked fabric of Craig's hoodie.
Silence stretches between them, Tweek's eyes are closed, he's exhausted and he feels safe, as he always has in Craig's arms.
"I love you," Tweek says suddenly, eyes closed, relaxed on Craig's chest.
"I love you too," Craig murmurs, still rubbing Tweek's hair soothingly.
It isn't much longer before Tweek is snoring softly on his chest. Craig gazes down at him, overcome with emotion for the man in his arms. He presses a soft kiss into his hair and closes his eyes too.