((A/N: Happy 2018, folks! It's been forever and a day but I'm finally back, guys! I won't keep ya from the story too long, but a HUGE thank you to everyone who reviewed/faved/followed and all of that because wow, this story got way more attention than what I was expecting! I am one happy gal!

So let's hop straight (lmao) into it today by saying once again that I do not own South Park and South Park belongs to the forever demented Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I only wake up everyday thankful for their genius!

Age rating still goin' strong with an M rating for EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT (which chapter tho, you gotta stick around a find out) and ADULT LANGUAGE, but I'm pretty sure we all watch the show here and got over the hurdle of outrageously inappropriate content long ago, so please, proceed!

As usual, I hope you guys enjoy (and that it was worth the wait) and I encourage you all to please read and review if you're feelin' generous, pissed off, enthralled or have any thoughts you're dying to tell me about my piece! It's thanks to you guys that I'm improving every time I upload to FF, so thank you!

I think that pretty much covers everything, so I'll catch you at the end! See y'all in two!

OoOoOoOoOo

Whatever dreams Tweek had been having after finally falling, albeit fitfully, asleep came to a crashing halt as his alarm clock sounded from his beside table, an awful screeching wail only rivalled by Tweek's own hysterical screams.

Arms flailing everywhere and thrashing about in his bed, Tweek threw himself to his feet, trying to ignore the sear of pain that shot through his toes and all the way up to his ankles as he landed on the balls of his feet, whipping back around to face the bed, fingers running frantically through his chaotic hair.

Hardly able to hear anything over the ceaseless cantering of his heart and the rhythmic pounding starting up in his head, Tweek raced around to the opposite side of the bed, his legs shaking so badly he was sure they would give away any second with each shaking step.

He hit the alarm clock with a clenched hand, whacking it with enough force to send it tumbling, but thankfully, it didn't.

He didn't think he could deal with broken household items right now.

He nursed his hand as the clock gave two happy beeps before dialling off, the morning edition of South Park Daily News cackling to life as it switched to radio mode.

Tweek's trembling finger shot out almost immediately, turning it off.

He already lived his day to day life way more paranoid than he should be.

No news story, good or bad, was going to make him feel any better.

Tweek gave a yawn, rubbing at his puffy eyes and lifting his arms up over his head, stretching out his scrawny body. He flinched as a joint cracked here and there, twisting his middle and sighing in relief as the muscles roping his stomach and lower back seemed to relax, no longer feeling like elastic bands pulled way too tight.

He groaned as he blinked the sleep from his eyes, looking at the mess before him, his blankets littering the floor, his two pillows lying forgotten on the opposite side of the room, shit everywhere.

Forcing himself to move his groggy body, Tweek reached down to pick up most of his bed, scooping up the pillows printed with Starbucks mugs (that his parents would drag him over the coals for if they knew had 'em) and his sheets, decorated with chocolate croissants and custard Danishes.

Tweek frowned as he made his bed, not bothering to tuck the sheets under the mattress as he fluffed his pillows.

What kind of sixteen year old had cafe themed bed attire?

A future juvenile delinquent, that's who.

Like sure, Tweek had learned to grow accustomed to Craig's Guinea pig themed bed, and even learnt to sleep in it whilst Craig slept on the couch downstairs (and ignore the nagging fear that the guinea pigs were real, waiting for with needle sharp teeth), but he was pretty confident that he'd rather die than have Craig see this linen atrocity.

Things were going pretty good right now, no need to ruin it.

Tweek fixed the last pillow, surprising himself as he hummed contently, folding down the sheet in a neat rectangle.

But like most of the brief periods of happiness in Tweek's life, it didn't last long.

Maybe it was almost twenty years of sleepless nights finally getting to him, or maybe it was a thought, a teensy, fleeting thing dawning in Tweek's mind that made the tiny smile on his face fall away from existence.

A screech tore from his throat sounding amazingly similar to a dying bird, Tweek projectile launching himself onto the bed, rolling around in agony.

What the hell was he doing?

His arms seemed to have a mind of their own, shooting back out towards the dresser and sweeping across the table top frantically. He sent the alarm clock soaring, for real this time, along with at least three years worth of homework, papers raining down all around him in a worksheet snowstorm.

A desperate growl bubbled from his lips as he was bombarded with nothing.

In no time at all, with a maniacal sweep of his stick thin legs, Tweek found himself on the carpet, belly first, crawling wildly under the bed. He pushed down the wave of claustrophobia that prodded and poked at the edges of his mind, daring him to give in and scream.

But it was over in seconds, Tweek gasping as he gulped a massive breath, not realizing he'd been holding one, as he slithered away from the abyss of unwanted gifts from three Christmases ago, a.k.a death, his phone clutched tightly in his grasp.

Heaving himself up onto his knees, Tweek looked at the IPhone in his quaking hands with wild eyes, sure that if anyone were to walk in on him now and see the state he and his room was in, they'd think he'd finally lost it.

But right now, he honestly couldn't give less of a fuck what others thought, his quivering thumb smoothing over a black screen peppered with fingerprints and smudges.

Because the only thing that mattered, and had ever mattered, was Craig.

Craig.

Craig who had invited him to tag along to Clyde's party as his plus one, as his boyfriend, to the end of the school year bash.

Craig who he'd failed to get back to after falling into an exhausted, panic induced sleep after Kenny had texted him the death sentence of the century.

Kenny.

Tweek's eyes twitched, his head spinning.

How the actual fuck had he forgotten about that?

Kenny had texted him last night, and it hadn't just been any text.

It'd been an accusation.

A call out.

Without really thinking about it, Tweek clicked open his phone, tapping the Messages icon with a thumb.

Honestly, he didn't know why he did it as he pressed Kenny's face, surrounded by his trademark orange parka and a blue speech bubble, but he watched as the screen redirected him to a blank page as the phone loaded last night's conversation.

Kenny was a good guy, sure, but Kenny also had his faults. Tweek had no idea what had warranted him into getting to the top of Kenny's shit list, but if you so much as made the list, you'd know about it. Whilst Tweek had no idea what was happening between them, Kenny was his friend.

Or at least he'd thought he was.

For the most part, Kenny was a pretty friendly guy, approachable.

Hadn't they become close enough over the past couple of weeks to prevent these kinds of situations from happening?

Kenny knew how he got in these kinds of situations. Had he suddenly decided to turn the other cheek and screw him over? To knock down everything he and Craig had been dutifully trying to build up over the past month and kick the story they'd been trying so hard to fabricate for the good of South Park in the teeth, thus bringing a crashing halt to what would no doubt become the facade of the century?

But what had Kenny said last night?

'I know you and Craig aren't really a thing'?

But hadn't they made a good show of it?

Made everyone fall head over heels for a tragic love story between two high school boys and how they could never truly be together, only to triumph and wander through town hand in hand victoriously?

Hadn't they made it believable?

Tweek didn't know which side of the fence Kenny was on, but Tweek was actually gayA living, breathing homosexual. A boy that liked boys.

He actually liked Craig.

He'd fallen for him.

And to Tweek, it'd never been a show.

It'd never been some ridiculous play to satisfy the pc needs of the new gen South Park adults going about their heterosexual lives to feel better about themselves.

It'd been real.

All of it.

Even if Craig could never return those feelings, and that was okay.

And with that outlook, how could Kenny have possibly known?

Maybe it was something he'd made up, laying down on that mouldy, moth eaten couch his Dad had gotten at the Dollar Store next to his sister, listening to the racket of his brother and parents bickering amidst the sounds of SodaSoPa coming to life as the sun went down.

Maybe he didn't know anything at all, instead gauging his reaction, however he so responded ending up as the truth that would be set in stone.

The IPhone gave a musical ding, Tweek drinking in a screen full of text, a combination of the rare talks they'd had on school nights during exam week and last night's near death experience.

He didn't need to read it again. Really, he didn't have to. But he found his eyes flickering over the nine words for the millionth time, permanently etching them into his brain.

'I know you and Craig aren't really a thing.'

His pointer found the text box, his eyes never leaving Kenny's words, fingertips hovering above the keyboard as it sprang out over the screen from the lower half of his phone.

In a way, he was glad he hadn't managed to reply to him last night amongst the chaos the unexpected text had brought.

Thinking about it, he could've seriously dug his own grave if he had, or at least dug himself into an even deeper hole.

Craig had once told him to take a deep breath whenever he found himself helplessly stuck in these kinds of moments.

To hit pause for a minute and mull it over, to actually consider that not everything everyone had ever said or done was a direct threat or an effort to hurt him, as hard as that was to believe sometimes.

Tweek drew in a breath, counting to five as Craig had taught him, allowing the much needed oxygen to fill his lungs, to expand his diaphragm.

Craig's advice was helpful, and usually it was pretty good in the way that it often did work out if he implemented his tactics.

Sometimes you just needed to turn your brain off and go into auto pilot mode, to not think about anything and throw yourself in the deep end, sink or swim.

Especially when it concerned not only your own, but your boyfriend's wellbeing too.

Tweek didn't know where the sudden surge of courage unlike he'd ever known came from, but he started to type, keeping his attention focused on his words, and not on the green dot next to Kenny's name reading 'active'.

It didn't take long to write up his reply, but in Tweek's mind, it had felt like hours, rearranging the words a countless amount of times but always coming to the same sentence, the same prying question.

'What do you mean?'

Tweek hit send, a tiny circle indicating it was still finding it's way to Kenny before morphing into a green tick, Tweek's stomach giddy with somersaults.

He didn't even have time to recollect himself as a new message came through, no time to prepare himself for the short and hideously ambiguous reply that lit up his phone like some horrifying beacon.

'Meet me at Tweak Bros.'

If Tweek had ever felt the need to spontaneously throw up and pass out in a puddle of his own spew, now was the time.

What the shit had he done to deserve this?

For the love of God, there was nothing more than he hated than texting.

Although screens provided a much needed safe guard and level of anonymity that Tweek craved in so many aspects of his life, one thing he could not stand was the constant uphill battle in trying to decipher day in and day out how someone was actually feeling on the other end, or if they were even being sincere with their words.

Talking to anyone who wasn't Craig was like trying to diffuse a bomb, like being presented with all these different coloured wires and instructed to chose the one to stop the countdown, but brushed off when you insisted you'd never been to bomb diffusing school.

See, Craig was easy.

Craig was as easy as easy gets, and it wasn't just because he wasn't a big talker.

Craig got straight to the point and told you exactly how he felt. There was no beating around the bush and Tweek was eternally grateful for that.

But Kenny.

Kenny.

The kid could say one thing and mean another and he'd honestly know none of the better for it. Not to mention he usually communicated solely in emojis, sparkles and hearts and ponies and shit.

Kenny was a riddle he needed to crack.

Kenny was the four digit code guarding the safe and hiding what his heart most desired just out of reach; precious jewels and plentiful riches, or rather, in Tweek's case, the solution.

And the solution, be as it may a cold, biting truth, was simple.

He had no other choice than to make his way down to Tweak Bros and see Kenny, face to face.

But if Tweek was being entirely honest, confronting Kenny was the last thing he wanted to do.

Even though Kenny had invited him there himself and was (probably) alone at a Tweak family establishment, Tweek couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was going to go down, or even worse, that someone else may be waiting for him.

Craig's friends were cool.

Sure.

But he knew for a fact that Clyde and Token still weren't that keen on him, and Jimmy seemed like a pretty nice kid, but he barely knew him.

Tweek crammed his fingers into his mouth, biting his nails.

Could that be it?

Was it possible that someone had stolen Kenny's phone and was fooling around with him?

Messing with his head?

Had someone been watching from the side lines for far too long and become disenfranchised with the phony faux romance and taken matters into their own hands, ready to destroy both his and Craig's lives forever?

Tweek glanced back at the phone shakily, it teetering dangerously close to the edge of his palm as his whole body started to shudder, his shoulders convulsing wildly.

In the whirlwind of his mind, Tweek hadn't expected another message to come through so quickly, but one had, a little longer this time.

'And just in case you think I'm some robot from out of space or something, Craig hates Italian food. Something only Kenny would know.'

Tweek blinked in surprise.

Sometimes, it was like Kenny could read his mind.

The theory had actually kept him up many a school night when they were kids, but Kenny's knack for reading people had accompanied him from preschool well and truly into high school, so he'd whittled it down to it being one of his many weird and wonderful talents.

Still, it didn't hurt that he was onto him. He was actually kind of thankful. He could barely think straight right now.

Way too early for this kind of shit.

Shaking his head as if to clear it, Tweek stared down at the message.

He'd already decided to take the chance and give Kenny a shot. Now he had no choice but to keep the ball rolling, to send him a reply that'd keep him out of trouble but make him seem assertive enough to not take it lying down.

He drummed away at the keyboard. He'd keep it simple. Real simple. And it didn't get more simple than seeing to Craig's wellbeing. Even in life or death situations like these, Craig was always the first thing on his mind.

It was a real shame he'd never know it, at least not the full extent.

He pushed the thought from his mind, tapping 'send' and watching his message transform into a blue speech bubble.

He read his reply with a scrutinizing eye, even though it was too late to tinker and change the message now.

'This isn't going to screw up Craig's life?'

It pretty much covered the bases of everything he'd wanted to say, even though he had so much more he wanted to ask, to quiz Kenny and demand the truth.

But it'd have do for now, at least until he pulled up his big boy shorts and made his way down to Tweak Bros.

Then the real interrogation could actually begin.

Not even five seconds later, (and it really was that quick, Tweek counted) the screen was flashing again, Tweek reading his reply greedily.

'Dude, we've had our differences but I'd never throw your boyfriend under the bus like that.'

Tweek gawked down at the message, stupified.

'Throw your boyfriend under the bus?'

What kind of sick analogy was that?

He could've at least used something a little milder, like 'done him dirty' or something.

Even though buses scared the living shit out of Tweek, if a bus was getting involved and it somehow incorporated Craig getting run over by it, you could bet your ass Tweek would be throwing himself in front of it before it so much as got within a hair's width of Craig's personal space.

Another ding, and he couldn't believe he was saying it, but thank God.

He was on a serious tight rope right now, but all this talk of buses was really making him on edge.

The message was only two words this time, but it was enough to send Tweek into a panic all over again.

'On purpose.'

Tweek heard himself shriek as if from a distance, dangerously close to throwing his phone across the room, but his cell vibrated in his hand before he could muster up the will to do so.

'(Joking by the way)'

Tweek stared down at the screen in disbelief.

Like sure, Kenny was the type to weave this unexplainable, constantly shifting and evolving witty humour into every sentence he'd ever spoken, but what kind of train wreck, emotional rollercoaster conversation was this?

He didn't have time to mull over it as another came through.

This time, it was direct, straight to the point.

More of a statement than an offering.

'Meet me in an hour?'

Tweek chewed his lower lip, turning what little options he had over and over in his mind.

'Meet me in an hour?'

Now that made him nervous.

Less than sixty minutes to prepare and get a grip before facing what he might look back on as one of the most defining moments of his life twenty years down the road?

It was a losing situation, no matter what he decided to chose.

If he declined, Kenny might seek to confide in someone else, and before he knew it, everyone in South Park and the state of Colorado, possibly the world, would know what they'd done, shunned for eternity and doomed to live as outcasts forever.

But if he agreed, he faced what might constitute as one of the biggest challenges he'd ever been forced to face in his young life.

To confront a kid he'd only just come to call 'friend' by himself in a situation he had very little control over.

To swallow his fear and force himself into walking down that long, winding road to settling this for once and for all, to Tweak Bros, and take one for the team for both himself and Craig, to finally get some closure.

Full disclosure.

Tweek drew in a shaky breath, releasing it in the form of a trembling sigh as the phone threatened to slip from his hands, drenched with sweat.

With Craig on his mind, he could.

He sure as hell could.

Typing as quick as his fingers allowed, Tweek sent off his reply, trying to ignore the sense of impending doom that threatened to crush his being.

If he could at least do this for Craig, then it would be worth all the agony it'd caused him so far.

Hoping he'd sounded half as brave as he was making himself out to be, Tweek read the message.

'Tweak Bros at 10?'

He had this.

He totally had this.

For Craig.

Another ding.

Kenny's reply.

'You got it ;)'

Tweek's eyes lingered on the winky face, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

If Kenny was in a good enough mood to be using emojis, than maybe the situation wasn't as dire as he thought it was making itself out to be after all.

Another chime, marking one last message from Kenny.

Tweek turned his attention back to the phone.

'And can you be a bro and snag some Pop Tarts for the road? Last thing, I swear. Thanks babe~'

Tweek didn't even have time to panic, raising an puzzled eyebrow as he reread Kenny's final text.

First of all, Pop Tarts?

Did they even have Pop Tarts in the house?

Even if they did, he'd never touched them, considering most of the flavours had dairy products hidden away in their cakey interior, and he'd never been the biggest fan of the sugar hit toaster cakes anyways.

He'd make sure to check before he hit the road though.

Maybe he could offer it to Kenny as some kind of peace offering.

There was nothing Kenny loved more than food.

And also 'babe'?

Tweek shivered.

Getting called pet names by Kenny was enough to give anyone the heebie jeebies, and not the good kind.

But now that that was all over, it was time to start the day. Tweek would get back to Craig later, at least after the strangling fog in his head had cleared. Clyde's party was the furthest thing from his mind, but Craig was patient. He wouldn't mind, as long as he got back to him before tonight.

So, going to see Kenny was on the agenda today, hey?

Really, what could possibly go wrong?

As soon as the words formed in his mind, Tweek buried his face in his hands.

Was he seriously asking himself that right now?

Deciding he'd had enough phone time, Tweek clicked off the screen with his thumb. He fell back onto his messy bed as the room seemed to come to a still for the first time that morning, Tweek running a hand through his hair. He let the phone fall from his grasp, not even trying to make an effort to stop it from tumbling off the bed as it fell, face first, onto the carpet below.

Tweek hoped for dear life that the floor's cushiony texture had been enough to stop it from cracking, but if it didn't, whatever, he'd deal with it later.

Right now, he felt exhausted.

He honest to God felt like every ounce of life force that had managed cling to his being after all these stressful years had been sucked from his body in one fell swoop.

Looking over at the alarm clock, it was a shame it was already nine thirty. He wouldn't mind going back to bed.

Tweek froze.

Nine thirty?

He gripped his chest with a hand as if he was about to go into cardiac arrest any second.

It was already nine fucking thirty?

That meant he had less than half an hour until he had to go see Kenny!

He must've mixed up what he thought the time was with what the time actually was in the hullabaloo of what had just unfolded.

Serves him right, he should've fucking checked first.

Tweek shot up in bed, the adrenaline hitting him like a truck (or like the bus Kenny had mentioned, cause he was sure that'd be a thousand times worse).

He screeched, clambering to his feet for the second time that day and bolting to his bedroom door.

He almost tripped over his phone in the process as his hand gripped the handle with an iron grip, throwing open the door, just in time for his piercing screams to reverberate down the hallway and through the rest of the house.

"GAH! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY! SHIT!"

It all seemed to overflow at once, all the stresses of the morning final spilling over in one unstoppable wave.

Knowing his luck, his parents would just be stirring, his Dad probably still asleep.

His Mom was, and always had been, an early bird, but Mr Tweak was a whole different story, despite being the face of Tweak Bros Coffee.

He'd never explicitly said it, and whether that was to spare Tweek's feelings or because he knew Tweek would end up in a psychiatric ward if he ever dared to mention shit about it, but Tweek knew for a fact that his Dad despised being woken up by his shrills, grunting and groaning as he rolled around in his bed.

Right on cue, Mrs Tweak's voice sounded from down the stairs, drifting up to his room from the hallway.

"Tweek, honey?" She called, her words dripping in concern, accompanied by the clank of metal brushing metal, a knife on a cutting board. Tweek's neck twitched, his hands trembling on the doorway. She'd never really given a shit about how he'd really felt day in and day out until he'd come out as gay. But in a town like South Park that had changed so rapidly in such a short amount of time, having a gay son was like being presented a badge of honour, and he guessed she'd fallen into the habit of keeping up appearances. "Is everything okay, sweetie?"

Tweek forced himself to reply, even though it was a far cry from what he actually wanted to do, to not reply at all.

All his life he'd been labelled the town schizo, gone everywhere with a big, shiny sign exclaiming 'Everybody look at me, I'm different' hung around his throat.

Now that they had something to blame his odd behaviour on, Mr and Mrs Tweak couldn't be happier, couldn't be supportive enough.

He just wished they'd gotten the wake up call sooner, sixteen years sooner, when he needed it.

His voice was scratchy as he called back, trying his hardest not to cough as a tickle started up at the back of his sandpaper throat. "I'm fine, M-Mom! Just a n-nightmare!"

It wasn't the whole truth, but he hadn't been one hundred percent lying.

To be frank, this whole situation was a nightmare, and if he wasn't smart about it, it was only going to get a whole lot worse.

He heard his Mom make a sympathetic noise from downstairs, grinding his teeth at the sound of it.

It was hard to take her seriously sometimes.

She hadn't done shit about one of the sixth graders lighting his pants on fire when he was four, but now that he'd had a 'bad dream' she was on his beck and call?

"Awww, honey," she cooed, a groan making it's way past Tweek's lips. "Come downstairs and tell me about it! Breakfast is ready too! Toast and bacon, sweetie!"

Tweek had never been one to roll his eyes but the temptation was there and it was incredibly strong.

She was supposed to be his Mom, right?

It was like she barely knew her own son.

Toast meant butter, and butter meant milk.

He cupped a hand around his mouth. "Y-You know I'm allergic to m-milk, right?" He hollered back, hoping it didn't sound like as much of a retort to her as it did to him.

But seriously, he felt like a stranger in his own house sometimes.

Mrs Tweak gave a gasp, whatever she'd been gripping in her hand falling a short ways onto the kitchen counter top with a resounding clang.

"Oh, goodness!" She exclaimed over the faint sound of footsteps as she fussed about. "You're right! Where's my mind this morning?" She scolded herself lightly, but Tweek cringed at the faintest trace of humour that tickled her voice. "I'll get you something else, hon! But you better make your way down! Coffee will be getting cold soon!"

Tweek felt his oncoming bad mood slip away instantly at the mention of caffeine.

Looking down at his hands, shaking like leaves in a tumultuous breeze, it was no wonder he wasn't feeling crash hot, having not yet seen to his daily addiction.

There was nothing in this world that a good cup of coffee couldn't instantaneously fix, or at least idly distract him from whatever was on hand in a serene lagoon of ebony coloured bliss.

Nothing was unfixable with a tall mug of straight up black to kick start your morning, not even the Kenny problem.

He could feel his mouth starting to water.

Now he was eager to get out and away from this room, and possibly face the many obstacles the day no doubt had in store for him.

"Coming!" He called, halfway down the hallway before realizing he was still in his pyjamas and racing back to his room with a squeak.

Suddenly in a hurry to see to it that he kicked off the day with at least a lukewarm drink (because tipping more than two drops of the stuff down the sink was an instant grounding), Tweek tore of his bottoms, kicking them away from his feet (else they'd become a serious tripping hazard in about five seconds).

He tugged on some black jeans, jumping frantically on the spot in an effort to slide them up around his waist. He squealed as the jeans slid speedily up his body after the first jump, dangerously close to almost giving himself the biggest wedgie of all time.

Thank God he had quick reflexes.

He stared at his figure in the mirror.

Was it his imagination?

Surely, it had to be.

Looking at his lower half and the way the jeans hung off his figure, Tweek could've sworn a few weeks ago they'd been a perfect fit, definitely not baggy when he'd bought them.

Maybe they'd expanded in the wash?

He brushed it off, reaching down to retrieve a shirt with a u.f.o printed across the front beside a rainbow alien saying the words 'I'm a gay-lien'. The fabric was navy blue in colour and not really Tweek's style but Craig had bought it for him as a joke, part of a matching set, and he didn't have that many shirts to begin with, so he couldn't complain.

He looked back in the mirror, the shirt like a tent on him now when a few weeks back when Craig had gifted it to him, it'd fit like a glove.

Okay, so probably not the washing machine, unless it was suddenly on it's way out.

He frowned at his reflection, his pale features creasing up like paper, tugging at some material here, yanking at some fabric there.

Yep, he'd definitely lost weight.

It wasn't a new thing either.

Tweek had been one of those classic sort of underweight school kids at the start of the school year to teetering on the edge of skeleton within the span of a few weeks or months.

The many doctors and health professionals his parents had dragged him along to had watered it down to a fast metabolism, him being a growing boy and that some kids just suddenly gained or lost weight the older they got, thanks to growth spurts and puberty.

But really, he just forgot to eat sometimes.

Stress did that to you.

And it wasn't a overexaggeration to say he was constantly stressed.

He hadn't eaten much last night, but he was sure he had been keeping up with his 'food schedule' that Craig had drawn up for him, because Craig was a good 'boyfriend' like that.

And he was just talking any food schedule too.

This graph had the lot, like the five food groups with slightly generous allowances for fats and sugars and all kinds of snacks because he was that thin. It'd been three weeks since Craig had given him the food sched and things had been going well, smooth as clockwork.

But now that he thought about it, he couldn't recall the last time he'd eaten before dinner yesterday, only having indulged in a coffee at Tweak Bros that afternoon.

His eyes diverted back to his figure, thin as a twig, eyes sunken in his face and bones sticking out under his porcelain skin everywhere.

He knew Craig wouldn't get mad at him for forgetting to eat, but he didn't exactly want him worrying unecessarily about him either, especially considering he had more than enough on his plate already with Tweek's wild and increasingly paranoid theories on the daily about how the universe was conspiring against him.

Stealing a final glance at himself in the mirror, Tweek turned on his heel, throwing open his closet door as he made his way back to his bedroom door, grabbing the first jacket he saw, green in colour.

It was an odd thing to say, especially considering Tweek had spent his whole life growing up in a snowy mountain town forever encased in winter, but Tweek had never liked the cold all that much.

But for the first time in a long time, he was grateful for it today.

At least the thick woollen jacket would add some much needed bulk to his figure for the mean time, even though it didn't entirely solve his problem.

He'd make sure to follow the schedule to a t from now on.

He glided back towards his bedroom door, hand on the handle as he paused, trying to relax his terse body and relieve some of the pent up tension in what little muscle clung to his figure.

Not even ten in the morning and today had been a wild ride.

Not that it mattered, because it was time for take two.

He opened the door for the second time that day, but in a much more controlled matter this time.

He tried hard not to focus on his dumb ass arranging to meet with Kenny in under thirty minutes as he made his way down the hall and to the stairs.

His hand reached out to grip the rail as he thought, making sure he didn't let go, as he mulled over the ultimatum on his hands, eyes glued to the deep blue carpeted floor.

The walk to Tweak Bros wasn't far. Just down the block with a few lefts and rights, really.

When the place had been built, it had been built very close to home. Mr and Mrs Tweak had made sure of that. Just within arms reach if an emergency so arose, but far enough away so that they could forget about the place and it's whiny, nagging customers until the next day, when they dragged themselves out of bed for the five a.m. shift.

But it was different now.

Tweek was the only Tweak who saw the place regularly now, clocking in at least five days a week, even when he wasn't needed. Someone had to keep an eye on the place, and in a way, Tweek liked that it was kind of like a second home to him.

Familiar.

He almost considered it an escape, a place to get away from his parents and the noise of home life, and sometimes to dodge the kids that came knocking on his door and asking where he was.

Until the place hit ten in the morning, that was.

Rush hour.

Kids everywhere, and that included the adults too, some thirty something year old crying for a refill as his kid waved about an empty milk bottle, hollering something stupid.

Which, when he thought about it, was where he was heading today.

What he'd hopelessly, yet effortlessly, gotten himself into in a way Tweek Tweak only could.

Great.

Still having the issue of hitting up Craig and possibly going to that party later and meeting a boy that'd basically blackmailed him during Saturday rush hour?

Just another thing to look forward to.

Tweek felt his shoulders droop as he neared the edge of the stairway, the kitchen swimming into view as a vision of activity, Mrs Tweak dashing to and fro around Mr Tweak, seated in front of the table, his mouth split open in a yawn.

Tweek tried not to make eye contact with him as he sauntered over to the table, opting not to greet either of his parents as he pulled out a chair from himself, sinking into it with a sigh of agony.

He looked down at the spread Mrs Tweak had set before him, a knock off brand of chocolate cereal swimming in soy milk (gross) beside a tall glass of a freshly blended blueberry milkshake, topped with cream and shards of chocolate.

Tweek eyed the purple drink.

It was hard not to admire the craftsmanship that had gone into making the smoothie, layered with lashings of yogurt and honey. Mrs Tweak had always been famous for her milkshakes, insanely delicious and becoming the stuff of town legend.

Which made it all the more tragic that he couldn't drink it.

Tweek tried not to sigh as he pushed the insanely beautiful drink away from him.

There was hardly a day that passed when he didn't wish he hadn't inherited being so deathly allergic to lactose on his Dad's side.

Every dairy concoction ever was pretty much delicious by default. Ice cream and chocolate and thick fluffy custard.

Every single time Tweek was confronted by one of these delicious items, it was like seeing an oasis in the middle of the desert.

Refreshing and desirable, and very much needed and enticing, but no matter how much you walked towards it, you never quite got there.

God, he missed cheesecake.

But hey, he was a Tweak.

And if anything bad or mildly unfortunate, was going to happen to any of the Tweaks, it would definitely fall on the shoulders of Tweek Tweak.

Trying his hardest to push down the nagging feelings of resentment towards his Mom for tempting him with such a treat, Tweek started on his cereal that tasted uncannily similar to freshly burnt ashes, mixed with the watery aftertaste of soy milk.

He found himself watching Mrs Tweak as she flitted around the room, chopping up slices of bacon here, buttering freshly toasted slices of bread there as she skulled a creamy latte, yet another thing Tweek missed.

His eyes remained glued on her as she spun around on a heel swiftly away from the oven and danced towards him, placing a small tub of plain vanilla yogurt next to the rejected glass without so much as glancing in his general direction once, too many different pots and pans to see to.

Tweek swallowed the ashy cereal, eyeing the yogurt lid as he ate. He chewed slowly as his eyes traced over a single sentence printed across it's foil wrapping in ink, black and all caps.

'CONTAINS MILK PRODUCTS'

His brow creased.

Go figure.

He turned his attention back to his cereal, dipping his spoon back into the bowl, only having had about three mouthfuls but no longer hungry.

It was like she didn't know him at all.

"Something on your mind, sport?" Came Mr Tweak's voice to his left, Tweek flinching at the sudden intrusion of silence.

Tweek glanced at him from up under his fringe meekly, trying not to meet his eyes, which were trained on and burning into his.

The thing about Mr Tweak was that he was unbelievably good at reading people, despite the ironic fact he knew little to nothing about his own son's problems and life.

Like Kenny, Mr Tweak couldn't read minds, but Tweak sometimes got the inkling that he could, calling him out on things he really should've had no idea about more times than he could count; like his hiding a injured bird in the Tweak Bros staff room when he was ten, and him knowing about it despite not having visited the place in months.

Maybe he had cameras and microphones everywhere and shit.

Tweek felt himself break out in a cold sweat.

God, he had nothing to hide but the very thought was fucking terrifying.

Tweek shook his head as he felt a twitch coming on, his biggest give away, but alas, something far beyond his control.

If he didn't want him on his case, now was time to say something, and he needed to say something quick.

Summoning his most believable smile, Tweek turned to his Dad, his cheeks burning at the forced expression. "N-no, D-Dad! Wh-why would you-, you-," He tried to fight it, but the urge was too strong, like some unavoidable sneeze. He felt his shoulder muscles sting in protest as his head snapped to one side, a cry tearing from his throat. "ARGH!" He groaned, also drawing the attention of Mrs Tweak, who was rooted to the spot behind the kitchen bench, knife in hand. He was way past the point of return now, but he forced himself to finish his sentence, cringing at how phony he sounded. "Why would you th-think that?"

The last thing he wanted to do was look at his Dad, but Tweek looked at him.

Mr Tweak's eyes were riddled with various emotions, mainly complete confusion to downright disbelief.

He didn't bother himself with looking at his Mom, knowing the same expressions would be donning her face, the same knowing look twinkling in her eyes.

That they'd both caught onto the fact that something was definitely going on.

Tweek sunk into his chair, part of him wishing he was a snail so he could hide away in his shell.

The last thing he needed right now was questions, probing, invasive questions when he was about to run out the door to face an insane Goliath empty handed.

'For the love of God, please let it go.' Tweek thought to himself feverishly, squeezing his eyes shut. His fingers gripped his knees with an iron grip under the table, his knuckles as white as stone. 'Don't start paying attention now!'

It wasn't something he'd usually wish.

He'd pined for his parents' attention his whole life

But now was different.

It was the most intense five seconds in his life, but Mr Tweak shrugged, taking a long sip of coffee from his mug. "Well, if you say so, son."

Tweek sunk back into his chair, breathing a sigh of relief and finding it hard to recall a time when he'd ever felt so elated.

Like sure, it was fucking sad his parents couldn't give less of a shit about him even if they got off their uppity asses and tried, but the only thing in recent times that made him feel this relieved was when Craig had 'taken him back', and really thinking about it, this didn't even come close to that.

Mrs Tweak seemed pleased with the outcome, giving a pleased hum as she made her way back to the table, an array of plates placed strategically between her hands and all along her arms.

She seemed to glide across the floor with her forever elegant gait, Tweek eyeing the food as it approached, plentiful and an assortment of many different foods.

At a closer glance, Tweek realized it was a full English breakfast, with sides of fruit and pastry sweets like Danishes and croissants, placed neatly on tea plates and cut into quarters.

He watched as she set it down, eight separate dishes teeming with food that'd make his chores hell later. But Mrs Tweak didn't seem to mind. In fact, she seemed quite pleased with herself as she settled down into her chair at the head of the table, reaching over with some silver tongs and heaping a mountain of fried tomatoes onto her husband's plate.

"Thanks, dear." Said Mr Tweak reaching over the table and grabbing a newspaper, Mrs Tweak smiling her brilliant smile.

He didn't know why, but Tweek suddenly felt uncomfortable, turning his attention to his hands, knotting and unknotting continuously above his lap.

Two parents who'd been stuck in the sixties for the past twenty years gorging themselves on bacon and eggs every morning?

God, they couldn't get more nuclear if they tried.

He didn't know why she bothered cooking up such a big breakfast every morning anyways. There were only three of them and so much of the food went to waste. Maybe working at Tweak Bros all these years had just made making up big meals a habit for her, but in any case, Tweek hardly partook.

"Honey?" Sounded Mrs Tweak's voice from the far end of the table, Tweek jumping as his green eyes met her's.

From the look on her face, she'd tried talking to him more than once. Not to mention, his Dad was staring too.

"Y-yeah?" He replied, trying not to sound nervous.

They were still pretty out of the loop so far, he didn't want to bring this all crashing down now.

Mrs Tweak beamed at him and Tweek felt his stomach flip.

Sometimes he felt like his parents were robots.

"I said is that a new shirt, honey?" She pointed to his chest with a long finger. "I don't think I've ever seen it before. What does it say?" She peered at his torso. "'I'm a-', what?"

Tweek was on his feet before he could stop himself, nodding a little too eagerly. "'I'm a gay-lien'," he corrected. She'd done it. Mrs Tweak had sourced him the perfect ruse. Nothing was more distracting and all consuming to the Tweaks than their son's homosexuality. "Craig bought it for me as a present a few weeks ago, but I haven't had the chance to wear it yet." He surprised himself as he stuck out his bony arms in flourish, showing off the shirt like he was some sentient mannequin. "It's part of a matching set!"

The desired effect was instant, Mr and Mrs Tweak's faces reducing to mush.

"Awww!" They cooed, and Tweek grinned.

Score!

And he hadn't stuttered once!

Tweek – 1, his parents – O.

All they were missing was the comical hearts in their eyes!

"That's just swell, son!" Encouraged Richard. "It's good to hear you and Craig are getting along so well!"

Mrs Tweak was smiling from ear to ear. "Yes, nothing sweeter than being stuck in the middle of the 'honey moon' stage." Tweek felt the heat rise to his cheeks. It was one thing to be dating Craig, but already talking of marrying him? Thankfully, his Mom cut over him before he had time to scream, offering him a square of Danish. "Some custard Danish, hon?"

Tweek shook his head, cutting himself some slack and deciding not to dwell on his Mom's forgetfulness.

Maybe it was because talking of Craig was still fresh in his mind, but he was grateful she was at least trying.

"No thank you, M-Mom." He refused as politely as he could. Thankfully, Mrs Tweak didn't seem to make anything of it, smiling and returning the sweet back to it's plate.

Richard was speaking again, his tone light and airy.

Craig seemed to have that effect on his parents, even when he wasn't in the same room as them and probably still crashed out on his living room sofa snoring.

"Speaking of which it's the first day of holidays, kiddo! Are you and Craig gonna be hanging out today?" Mr Tweak asked, putting down his newspaper.

Tweek felt his heart skip a beat.

It wasn't often that his Father paid him this much attention.

Might as well milk it whilst it lasted.

He propped up his chin with a hand, barely able to contain his excitement as shivers wracked his body. "U-um, yeah! W-Well, I hope so. Craig doesn't get up till e-eleven on holidays s-so I haven't asked yet, cause I don't w-wanna wake him up!" He paused. He'd been given a golden opportunity here, a real chance to butter up his parents and possibly call in a favour before they left for the Maldives, because there was no telling what might happen between now and then. Especially in a town like South Park. He lowered his voice, his eyes dropping to the table in what he would've considered the phoniest, most put on act of fake sadness he'd ever managed to summon up. But his parents seemed to be loving it, lapping it up and hanging onto his every word. "It'd be a shame t-too, C-Craig drools in his sleep," he hesitated, blinking his long eyelashes slowly. The stage was set. The perfect scene. He glanced up at his parents with shimmering eyes, his cheeks dusted the lightest shade of pink. He uttered only two words, but before they'd even left his mouth, he knew he'd scored a home run. "It's c-c-cute." He stammered at last, hiding his mouth behind a hand coyly.

Mr and Mrs Tweak were on him at once, which was kind of freaky, considering Tweek hadn't even heard them, let alone see them, move.

But nevertheless, as far as putting on a show for your parents went, it didn't get much better than that.

Mrs Tweak's hands were on his shoulders, her fingers squeezing gently into his soft flesh. "Oh, our little rainbow!" She gushed, sounding alarmingly close to tears as she cradled his head in her arms.

Tweek stiffened in surprise.

He would've liked to have said that Mrs Tweak was a firm believer in the art of having a stiff upper lip, but really, as of lately, whenever Craig came into the equation, Mrs Tweak's odds of spontaneously bursting into tears had bumped up significantly from a rare once a year tops to a magnificent six times in the past month alone.

It was horrible to say, but in a way, it was kind of nice, even if it wasn't him she was crying over. He didn't like to see his Mom crying, who did? He wasn't some kind of monster. But every time she did, he found himself reminded deep down that she still had emotions aside from the forever happy-go-lucky make up that she showed to the world.

Real emotions.

Tweek's fingers were halfway to her hand when Mr Tweak appeared by his side too, yanking him away from his Mother's grasp and towards him, ruffling his hair with a playful hand as he squeaked in protest.

"That's our boy!" He laughed cheerfully, Tweek trying hard not to look too disappointed. If he had to choose only one of his parents to get along with, it'd be his Mom. But frankly, and oh so ironically, his Dad always seemed to incidentally break up these kinds of once in a blue moon tender moments. Richard's fingers made their way down to his cheeks, giving them a squeeze like he was some kind of hamster. "Live your truth, son!" He whistled, delivering a swift slap to his shoulder blades.

Tweek jumped half a mile in the air, ready to get up and bolt out the door, never to return as he started his new life on the road as a teenage hobo. But thankfully, his Mom's hand was on his shoulder again, a mug teeming with coffee hovering in front of his face.

Maybe he could hang around a little while longer.

"Coffee refill, sweetie?" Came Mrs Tweak's voice in his ear, Tweek shivering as her warm breath fanned the nape of his neck.

Tweek felt himself shake his head before he could stop himself, a little begrudgingly, because a cup of coffee would've been real nice right now. "N-no thanks, Mom." No huge loss anyways. He could grab some down at Tweak Bros in five.

He watched as the grown up Tweaks returned to their seats, Mrs Tweak pouring some more coffee for herself before reaching over and topping Mr Tweak up.

Really, considering the amount of coffee they all drunk, it was incredible in itself that they all didn't have yellow teeth.

"You know, it's almost a shame you aren't coming with us, Tweek." Said Richard, once again burried behind his paper. Tweek fought the pang of disappointment that unfolded in his chest. It was like every time they got even marginally close to better communicating and actually being a normal family for once, the freshly torn down wall started to magically rebuild itself again. "The Maldives don't recognise same sex relationships," his Dad continued, a deep set frown immediately dawning on Tweek's face. His parents weren't gay, and that was fine. Like sure, they'd never understand some of the struggles he had to go through just because he'd been born attracted to the same sex, but they knew he was sensitive about these kinds of things. About being criminalized for something he couldn't help. And worst of all, Richard sounded kind of amused. He watched as Mr Tweak made eye contact with him over the top of his paper, his eyes glittering with mirth. Tweek's stomach dropped. This was going to end in a fucking joke. "I'm sure once they took the time to get to know you, they'd abolish that silly law forever!" He finished with a wink.

Tweek had never felt a stronger urge than right now to simultaneously cry, cringe and crumble all at once; maybe throw in a dramatic hands coming down on the table and chair screeching across the floor as he thudded up the stairs to his bedroom and slammed the door, his parents begging him to come back.

But Tweek was far from the dramatic type, and even though his parents had done very little in raising him up into the person he was today, they'd at least taught him better than that.

Still, he fucking wished with all his heart that the grand parents he'd never met had at least tried to teach Richard Tweak better.

Or were rolling over in their graves.

Or something.

"U-um, y-you know we n-never talked about t-that yesterday." Tweek added, desperate for a change of subject. Besides, it couldn't hurt to know. Especially considering he'd be home alone within the next week or so. "When are you guys l-leaving?"

Mrs Tweak's hands flew to her face, her mouth drawn open in a perfectly shaped 'o'.

Tweek shuddered.

Sure, he wasn't the dramatic type, but his parents sure as hell were.

"Oh Richard, that's right!" Chided Mrs Tweak, slapping herself on the wrist lightly. "How could we have forgotten?"

Seriously, watching his parents interact with himself and each other was like watching an episode of 'Sesame Street' sometimes, when one of the mains messed up and scolded themselves and shit.

Thankfully, Mr Tweak wasn't as bad as Mrs Tweak, but Tweek still couldn't help but feel a little salty as he looked over in his general direction, his eyes unfocused.

He guessed he was thinking about things more important than giving his son his time, like the twenty grand second hand environmentally friendly car he'd seen in the paper, just below an ad for incorporating a more pc friendly environment at home.

"It's just that you went up to bed quite early yesterday, kiddo." He mused, reaching up a hand and scratching his chin. "We just didn't get the time."

Tweek gave a nod.

Thinking back to yesterday, he had turned in pretty early, overwhelmed by the day's events and in dire need of some much wanted rest.

But still, like every other night of his life, his parents had failed to come up and check on him, glued to their t.v as they watched hour after hour of infomercials.

You know, like everyone else's parents did.

You would've thought that after a shit ton of close calls and multiple nervous break downs that the Tweaks would've been keeping a closer eye on their son. At least dropping in on him from time to time, asking him how he was, what was up. Doing their job instead of Councillor Mackey having to do it for them, not a terrible replacement, but still not his own flesh and blood either.

He remember Mackey telling him once that vicious circumstance was supposed to bring people together, to encourage people to fall back on each other and strengthen the bonds between them by reaching out for help.

If anything, Tweek's spiral into anxiety had pushed the entire family apart, not that it had ever been much of a family to begin with.

But hey, silver lining, he was going to be spending the next few weeks with Craig, whatever happened today.

He just needed to get through today, to get through this and to get through Kenny.

And that alone was enough to give him the strength to carry on.

His Mom was speaking now, and it was kind of a relief.

Lately whenever Mr Tweak opened his mouth, Tweek wished for nothing more than for him to just shut up.

"We're on the plane tomorrow evening but need to get to the airport for around seven thirty, hon." Chimed Mrs Tweak, her voice musical like a song. Tweek stiffened as her words sunk in, all the bitter resentment he'd harboured towards his Dad pushed from his mind.

Tomorrow?

They were leaving tomorrow?

That was the shortest fucking notice he'd ever received.

So now they were just gonna hop on a plane to some exotic location and ditch him so soon without a barely decent goodbye?

"I know we should've told you earlier sweetie, but we only booked the trip four days ago." His Mom explained, as if she'd heard his thoughts. "You know how hectic our week is," she laughed, but Tweek couldn't find the humour in her words. He wasn't sure what 'hectic' constituted to her, but if 'hectic' meant living out your Monday to Friday wandering Citipa, then she was living on a whole other planet. "But that means you're fine to do whatever you want all day today and all day tomorrow before we head off." She finished with a grin, but Tweek didn't return it.

"If you don't mind, we'd like to have you home before we leave." Added Mr Tweak. "Just so we know you're home safe." Oh? So now they cared about his safety? Tweek found that hard to believe as the newspaper rustled, Mr Tweak turning over a new page. "Invite Craig around for a movie or something." He suggested, peering at him from over the top of his paper. "Craig likes movies, right?"

Tweek gave a nod. "H-he likes Red Racer."

Mr Tweak grinned as if that was the greatest news he'd heard in a year. "Ah, a Red Racer fan, huh? I was quite the Red Racer fan myself as a boy." His voice was dripping with pride and it made Tweek feel queasy. He wouldn't have mentioned it if he knew his Dad was going to be so full of himself about it. He watched as he waved a hand in Mrs Tweak's direction. "Write that down, sugar."

Tweek's gaze drifted to his Mom as she pulled a pen out of her front pocket, scribbling something down on her palm.

Huh.

So he guessed the 'don't-so-much-as-draw-a-full-stop-on-your-hand-or-you'll-get-ink-poisoning-quicker-than-you-can-say-Jennifer-Lopez-loves-tacos' rule only applied to him then.

"You got it, hon." She chirped, clipping the pen on her right breast pocket. She fiddled with her apron, her fingers long and narrow like a spider's. "We need to go out for a few last minute supplies today, so we'll swing by Blockbuster and pick up a copy on the way home."

"B-Blockbuster's been gone for years, M-Mom." Tweek pointed out.

And not just one year, but six.

But hey, it's the thought that counts, right?

He might as well try to start viewing his Mom's attempts at being helpful positively, considering they were a daily occurrence and he got the feeling they weren't gonna stop anytime soon.

Mrs Tweek gasped, a hint of realization dawning in her eyes. "Oh, so it has! But don't worry, we'll work out something!"

"In the mean time, what are your movements today, Tweek?" Asked Richard, pulling out a fold up section of the newspaper and squinting at it scrutinisingly.

From where Tweek stood, it seemed to be an add for local Gentleman's Club The Peppermint Hippo, a detailed and criminally elaborate title done up in calligraphy of one of the stripper's names, Classi, with an i and a little dick hanging off of the c that bends around and fucks the l out of the a-s-s, bang in the middle of the page.

Tweek fought the sudden urge to barf, to cough loudly and obnoxiously until his Dad had no choice but to look away from the ad, because even though Tweek knew he'd never dare to show up at such a miserable excuse for a hole-in-the-wall, why the hell was he even looking like he was considering it in front of his Mom?

Not to mention the day before they were about to take off on a luxury couples' holiday.

Sometimes he felt sorry for his Mom, he really did.

In a way, he had to admire her.

Because if he ended up getting married to a steaming bag of shit like his Mom had his Dad, he would've booked it the hell out of dodge a long time ago.

But thankfully, he wasn't married to his Dad, (okay, maybe that was the wrong way to word it) and his eyes were drilling into him like two rusty screwdrivers waiting for a reply, so it was time to keep the ball rolling and move on anyways. "W-well, C-Craig's still a possibility, but I'm actually going to s-see a school friend at Tw-Tweak Bros today."

He fiddled with his shirt as he spoke, both his parents' eyes trained on him, making him fidget under their conjoined glare.

Alright, maybe he hadn't meant to be so direct and at least try to dance around the truth a little, but Tweek had always been a terrible liar, and even if telling the truth brought down the iron fists of punishment crashing down onto his being, it was still an easier way out than telling a few very illogical, nonsensical choice fibs.

Disregarding what Craig thought.

A few moments passed, each second marked by the faint ticking of the clock above the oven, but to Tweek, each stroke was like thunder. T

he air in the room suddenly seemed stuffy.

Way too stuffy.

Hot.

Unbreathable.

Like someone had thrown a blanket over him during one of South Park's very rare summers.

Covered him in bubble wrap from head to toe.

Attached weights to his feet and thrown him into Stark's Pond.

More than anything, the silence alone was crushing.

Why the fuck did they look so surprised?

His eyes darted from Mr to Mrs Tweak's faces wildly, each complete circuit faster and more desperate by the minute.

He hadn't said anything wrong, had he?

Tweek lived his life in fear of slipping up and saying the wrong thing and looking like a total idiot, but what the fuck was wrong with seeing a friend from the shit hole he was forced to spend eight hours of his day at for most of the year?

That was normal, right?

Then why couldn't they quit staring?

As Tweek's mouth fell open in a voiceless scream, his throat constricting as he readied himself for what would no doubt be the loudest shriek he'd managed in a long time, Richard Tweak raised an eyebrow. "At Tweak Bros?"

Tweek stared at his father blankly, void of emotion but a small part of him grateful that he'd intercepted when he did.

He'd been about two seconds away from leaping to his feet and taking to the top of the table and dancing about in a fit of agony, a humiliating show.

He was torn away from the blank planes of his mind as Mrs Tweak's hand found his shoulder.

He screeched in her ear as she spoke, but she didn't seem to mind.

Sixteen years of putting up with it probably made you immune to it, he guessed.

That or it was some kind of Mom superpower, or something.

"You know you don't have to go in when you don't have a shift, right sweetie?" She reminded gingerly, giving him a gentle squeeze.

Tweek knew she was trying to be reassuring, but he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up so speedily, he was sure he was on the receiving end of an electric shock.

But he had to count his losses.

At least they weren't gaping at him like fish out of water anymore.

But he wasn't out of the woods yet.

"Y-yeah," he murmured, a thumb tracing circles on the back of his hand as he spoke, a long time nervous habit. He stopped when he felt Richard's eyes drift to his hands, tucking them away under the table and wincing as his knuckles collided with it's tough mahogany surface with a soft thud. "But he said it's r-really important." He finished, nursing his hand.

"He?" Echoed Richard to his right, his Mom seeming to catch onto that little detail too as her grip tightened on his shoulder.

Tweek gulped.

Ah yes, how could he have forgotten?

That super parental hearing that all Moms and Dads seemed to have, probably having acquired it from some ethereal wizard or something the moment he'd been born.

It was every kid's worst nightmare.

The dreaded selective hearing, being ignored but on your case like flies to shit the moment you said anything that sounded remotely illegal, dangerous, sexual or even slightly ambiguous.

Tweek's parents had always had a knack for it.

If there was a university for selective hearing, Mr and Mrs Tweak would've completed their Bachelor of Arts in it.

Masters at the game, always on the look out for certain keywords from a very exclusive list, a list Tweek wished he had, something he could make a million copies of, studying it until he was master too.

But like everything in his life, little remained unchanged, and he was sure even if he did put in all the effort of tip toeing around his parents and everything he said, (and if he was being honest, he'd already spent the last sixteen years doing just that anyways) the list would change by the daily, Mr and Mrs Tweak a sucker for routine.

And today, it seemed the word of the day was 'he'.

But this wasn't exactly a new thing either.

'He' had long been in the top three entries on the list since Tweek had (been forced to) come out, but that didn't mean it didn't make him jittery as fuck every time they pulled this bullshit.

"Not Craig?" Prodded Mrs Tweak, only adding fuel to the bonfire of anxiety that was burning Tweek up, a brilliant show of quaking shoulders and trembling lips.

Somehow, he'd done it.

He'd done it again and he shouldn't have been surprised.

It'd gotten to the point where he couldn't call it a day if he hadn't dug himself so immensely deeply into these kinds of holes.

Tweek Tweak, top graduate in word barf.

Verbal diarrhoea.

See, he actually had nothing to feel shady about. Like the premonition of meeting up with Kenny was truly horrifying, but was it really against the rules for him to have friends other than Craig who also happened to be guys?

Tweek shook his head wildly in the hopes that it might snap him out of his funk. It didn't help that his parents were studying him, watching him so immensely closely like some exotic insect trapped in an empty coffee jar, that he was sure at any moment they were going to leap to their feet and call him out on every ounce of dishonesty he'd thrown their way since he was two.

His voice cracked and faltered as he talked, not helping his situation. "N-no, someone e-else," he squeaked, his right eye twitching shut as he cried out in dismay. "ARGH!"

Right here. Right fucking here. This was the exact reason why he'd never really bothered with making too many friends growing up.

It was way more trouble than it was worth.

Not to mention his parents were nosy as fuck.

He hoped they'd call it a day after that tibit of information and leave it there, he really did.

But today, it seemed, the odds were far from being in his favour.

"Who?" Pressed Mrs Tweak.

Tweek gulped at the lump manifesting dangerously fast at the back of his throat.

'Backpedal,' he thought in a complete frenzy. 'Backpedal! Think of someone uncool!'

"U-um," he stammered, praying to God he sounded half as believable as he wished he sounded. "M-my good friend, K-Kevin St-St-Stoley."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Tweek wrestled with the burning urge to slap himself, the colour draining from his face.

For the love of God, why was it that whenever he so much as opened his mouth he said the stupidest shit?

Like shit, there was nothing wrong with Kevin, zero.

He only knew the guy by appearances and had maybe talked to him once or twice, but he was easy going enough for Tweek to count him as a pretty okay guy, and definitely not deserving of him bad mouthing him when he wasn't around.

He was just glad Kevin wasn't here to hear it, as horrible as that sounded.

He felt guilty enough about trash talking him in his absence.

Unlike his son, Mr Tweak was a simpler creature.

He brought his hands to his chin, clasping them neatly as a frown crinkled his brow. "Who?" He pondered out loud.

"Star Trek kid, darling." Piped Mrs Tweak, always on hand to help.

Mr Tweak's face lit up. "Oh! The Spock fanatic!" He said animatedly with the biggest grin plastered across his face. Tweek sighed. Once again, he wouldn't have said it if he'd known his Dad was a Star Trek fan. He'd wished he'd blurted out Butters' or Stan's names instead. Cartman's even. "You have a good taste in friends, son!" He congratulated luxuriously, as if he was giving Tweek some kind of medal for actually calling someone a 'friend' for once. It was gross. "What's the big Kev up to these days?"

He didn't even know if his Dad had even seen Kevin face to face, let alone known his name before today.

But still, it was so much easier to play along.

"Oh, y-you know. S-stuff." He made up on the spot, and for once, it didn't sound that unbelievable.

He found his eyes looking up at the clock again for the thousandth time that morning, almost jumping out of his skin in horror as he read the time.

9:50 a.m.

That meant he had less than ten minutes to make his way down to Tweak Bros to meet his fate.

His stomach churned.

He wasn't ready.

He'd never be ready, but now was the time to go.

He stood up, his chair falling over with a clang behind him, his parents eyeing him questioningly as he screamed, hands flying to his hair and pulling on it until his scalp burned.

Not so much as throwing a sideways glance at either of his parents, Tweek made a beeline to the lounge room where he knew his bag would be, calling out over his shoulder so his Mom and Dad wouldn't think he was completely crazy.

"I-I gotta go for t-ten, GAH! SWEET JESUS, I'm going to be late!"

He should've seen this coming.

Tweek was late everywhere he went, even when he was 'prepared'.

It would've been kind of cool if his parents had offered him a ride or something, even though he would've adamantly refused, seeing that it was a complete waste of fuel and unnecessary addition of deadly toxic harm to the environment, (that would no doubt one day kill them all like a pressure cooker) thanks to the proximity of the coffee house.

Still, it would've been better than his Dad talking over him as he whizzed around, stuffing items here and there into his plain blue backpack, like nothing had happened.

"Stuff, hey?" He parroted as Tweek forced a water bottle into his bag. "I like it! Say hi to him from me and your Mother."

Tweek nodded, rapid fire. "O-okay," he promised, which meant he had zero intention of doing it.

He checked the clock again, the little hand nearing the ten at an alarming pace.

He had some five minutes to get to Tweak Bros.

He needed to hurry.

He crammed the last item of absolute importance that'd magically get him through the day, a pack of aspirin, into his right jeans pocket, nothing less than spiriting towards the front door as he patted himself down to make sure he had everything he needed.

His hand shot out to grip the handle, the copper cool against his skin as he spun around to face his parents, their faces unchanged.

Tweek freaking out was just a usual daily occurrence.

He motioned to the door wildly, hitching his bag up on his shoulder. "I-I'm going!" He announced.

Mrs Tweak smiled at him from her seat, her fork and knife poised delicately over a piece of bacon so tiny, Tweek wasn't sure why she didn't just pick it up with her hands and swallow it whole.

"You need us to pick you up anything, sweetie?" She asked.

He knew she wasn't trying to make him run late on purpose, (or was she?) but he really didn't have time for the six hour goodbye that was common place every other time he left the house.

"N-no, Mom." He prattled, and he sure as hell hoped not. He hadn't really taken the time to even consider it before answering. "M-maybe food?" He threw in as an afterthought, but that was a pretty standard one and he was sure it was already at the top of Mrs Tweak's shopping list, even though he'd probably come home to her unloading bulk containers of ice-cream into their freezer. His eyes scanned the clock. Four minutes. It was do-able, but he really needed to get moving. "But I, um, r-really got someplace to b-be!"

Mrs Tweak waggled her perfectly manicured fingers at him. "Alright, honey. Have fun!"

Tweek hesitated.

That'd seemed a little easy.

Too easy.

Usually his parents questioned him to the boondocks, made him fill out a self evaluation sheet and an immigration permission form for permanent residency in Germany every time he left the house.

Giving them one last uncertain look, despite the borrowed time he was already on, Tweek turned the handle and opened the door.

He shivered as the early winter breeze from outside washed over him like an ice bath, billowing straight through him.

He untied the jacket from around his waist that he'd snagged this morning, swaddling it around his being as he ducked his head in reply.

"S-see ya."

He didn't look up as he busied himself with buttoning the jacket up with shaking hands, somehow managing to slip the black discs into all the wrong holes, but he knew his parents had resumed their breakfast, preoccupied with the pan fried mushrooms and the crispy toast that was laid out before them.

Reaching down towards the place mat and picking up his snow boots, Tweek slipped them on unceremoniously, cursing under his breath when he pulled them onto the wrong feet. He hastily switched them over and tapped his heels into place, seeing as the shoes were two sizes too big, despite him having had them three years.

Tweek had never really grown all that much like the other boys, so he guessed his parents' reasoning of 'you'll grow into them' was kind of lost on him.

With a final look at his handiwork, Tweek turned on his heel and faced the wintery landscape outside.

As like any other day in South Park, snow had fallen over night in thick, pillowy marshmallows, an endless collection of hills cutting through the roads that had been carefully salted the afternoon before, the sound of cars here and there coughing to life from down the street.

Tweek sucked in a deep breath as he stepped outside, his boots crunching the slush beneath his feet like glass shards.

He wasn't sure where today would take him, there was no way of knowing, but wherever it did, he just hoped he'd make it to walk back through this door for dinner tonight.

Or Clyde's house, if he so decided. He needed to get on that desperately. He still hadn't texted Craig back.

"Oh and Tweek?" Came Mr Tweak's voice from behind him, shattering the first ounce of pristine silence Tweek had gotten to experience that morning.

He sighed.

Like he'd said, too easy.

He twisted his body around just enough to glimpse him out the corner of his eye, fiddling with the front pocket of his backpack.

He tried not to catch the clock, knowing it'd only make him anxious, but now he also had the useless information that he had three minutes to go.

"W-what, Dad?" He demanded urgently, really starting to fret.

It better be something important.

Life or death important.

But of course not, as was clearly evident when Richard smirked, his left eye flickering shut in a truly grotesque, cheesy wink.

"Kevin's not gay, is he?" He chided wryly, clearly on the brink of some very inappropriate and extremely uncalled for laughter, Tweek sure he would've gagged if a hysterical scream hadn't ripped it's way out of his mouth first.

Eyes squeezed shut, Tweek flinched at the sharp sound of flesh against flesh.

His Mom must've hit his Dad, but from the way Mr Tweak was chortling to himself, it hadn't been that hard.

Never judge a book by a cover.

His Mom could hit.

Hard.

"Richard!" She scolded, a second slap ringing out across the kitchen, but this only seemed to amuse Richard more, giving a muffled snort from behind his hand.

Well, Tweek was sure glad his Dad found this all absolutely hilarious.

Not.

Seriously, where did this guy get off making so many jokes about his sexual orientation?

And not for the first time that morning either.

Sick.

He knew he shouldn't pay him any attention, to ignore him and not throw him the spark that would ignite the flames, but the flustered words made their way past his mouth before he had any hope of stopping them.

"W-what?" He groaned, sounding as if he was about to be sick. "D-Dad, n-no! He's just a friend!" Yeah, his Dad was so funny! What a riot! God, he was such a comedic genius, just like Amy Schumer! Not to mention the perfect time waster-er. He looked at the clock and his heart plummeted. Two fucking minutes till ten? He moaned, his head starting to spin at the stress of it all. "I'm, g-g-GAH! I'm going! Jesus Christ!"

"Okay son, have fun!" Richard farewelled between giggles, waving a hand about. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He added with another wink, just to rub salt into the wound.

"AGH!" Tweek howled in what was possibly the world's second shittiest goodbye, (cause let's face it, his Dad's was a million times worse) before a thought struck him like a ton of bricks, screeching to a stop in his tracks. "SHIT!" He groaned, whipping back around to face the table. "I-I almost forgot!" Lucky he'd remembered because it was a critical item he seriously couldn't do without. "M-Mom, do we have any P-Pop Tarts?"

Mrs Tweak blinked in surprise, a hand fanned across her red mouth. "Pop Tarts?" She repeated. There was something about the way she said it, kind of with a hint of, what was that? Distaste? "I'd sure hope not. Pop Tarts rot your teeth and are full of harmful traces of gluten containing ingredients," she paused, making eye contact with Tweek, who fidgeted under what was possibly the most intense glare she had ever affixed him with, ever. "And you know what that means, honey." She concluded dramatically, Tweek reminded of that point of significance in movies when the real threat was revealed in a horrible, theatrical fashion.

"N-no?" Squeaked Tweek.

He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

He had enough delusions about food as it was, he didn't need anymore.

Richard raised a hand, chewing on a slice of mushroom. "They'll make your dick fly off."

Tweek howled. "JESUS CHRIST!"

What the actual fuck?

And he'd said it so casually too?

They had to be messing around with him, they fucking had to.

Mrs Tweak nodded as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Not that she had anything to worry about.

She wasn't one of the two people in this house who had a dick.

"It's a scientifically proven fact, hon."

A scientifically proven fact?

But according to who?

He couldn't get his head around it, he wished she hadn't said anything, left it there for the sake of his sanity.

Just something else to obsess over, add that one to the list.

Donuts make your dick fly off.

"O-oh." Tweek muttered, not really knowing what else to say.

But really, taking a moment to think about it, there were a lot of holes in her reasoning.

Like for one, shouldn't that mean they should both get up this instant and bin the toast swimming in butter on their plates?

His Dad was eating it right fucking now, and he knew for a fact that it wasn't gluten free.

Luckily, Mrs Tweak decided it was a good time to change the subject, Tweek liking to have thought because she sensed how uncomfortable he was and not because of a different underlying reason.

That she'd gotten bored, just like with many other things and conversations she'd had to bare witness to throughout her life.

"Are you going to be taking down some sweets for the customers, Tweek?" She asked as pulled herself to her feet, but Tweek knew she wasn't really asking.

His eyes followed her as she made her way to the fridge, catching a sneak peak of trays upon trays of baked goods she'd made throughout the week, some of the ones on the bottom shelf made by him, balancing haphazardly on top of one another.

But there was no denying he'd even hope to get up to scratch with his Mom, a true baking master, making layer cakes and delicious slices since she was a kid, a home raised local celebrity, celebrated for her craftsmanship in the kitchen.

But 'taking down sweets' had always meant taking down some of the extras they couldn't eat themselves down to the cafe, even though there were enough extras and food down at Tweak Bros combined to feed the entire population of South Park (including the newbies from Denver) ten times over.

To put it simply, his Mom had way too much time on her hands.

"U-um, sure." Said Tweek with a nod. "A-anything we d-don't need?"

Mrs Tweak selected a tray from the middle shelf, walking over to Tweak and passing him a 9x13, covered with plastic wrap.

"Well, it's not that we don't need it, but about these, sweetie?" She motioned to the yellow sweets, cut into perfect squares and dusted with powdered sugar. "Freshly made lemon bars with locally sourced lemons from your friend Benny McConroy's farm." She waved a lavish hand, proud of her work but her shoulders seemed to drop a little, which was the most out of character thing Tweek had seen her do in a long time, considering all she ever went on about was the important of good posture. "Shame they have all purpose flour in the base, though." She said regretfully. "They're super delicious but I can't bring myself to enjoy them whilst worrying my boobs might fly off at any moment."

Tweek cringed to his core, his cheeks blushing a brilliant shade of scarlet red as his hands came up in front of his chest, a living, breathing stop sign.

"M-mom, t.m.i!" The words tasted like bile in his mouth, he couldn't even believe he was having to hear such things. And boobs? Well he guessed there had to be a female equivalent to the gluten problem somewhere. "A-and it's K-Kenny." He corrected after a moment's thought, because as far as he knew, no 'Benny McConroy' had ever set foot in South Park, not to mention Tweek knew for a fact that Kenny didn't live on a farm.

Maybe she was confusing the McCormick dump with the forever ancient South Park Barn, which had always held a special place in her heart from her youth, the disgusting drunken barn dance nights she and his Dad had attended numerous times still fresh in her mind over twenty years later.

As awful as it was to admit, he was pretty sure that's how he'd been conceived.

He shivered.

Anyways, there was no way he was giving these lemon bars to the customers.

For one, he didn't want customers' dicks and boobs flying around the family coffee house, it was bad for business.

And two, Tweek had been to Kenny's house many a time growing up and that same lemon tree had stood rickety by the side of the garage where Mr and Mrs McCormick made and sold their drugs for as long as he could remember.

It'd been Kenny's job to sell them, hand them over to kids at school and their parents in the car park in the hopes of taking home a few extra dollars at the end of the week.

Kenny's little business had worked a charm too, kids wanting the acidic fruits for weird and wonderful reasons and their parents unable to say no to such a cute, smudged face as he handed them over, a handful of silvers dropped into his outstretched, skeleton like hand.

The townsfolk loved their McCormick lemons, and a little over ten years later, the lemons were once again making a come back, hipsters and the new residents from Denver and the surrounding areas praising it for it's being grown so organically and environmentally friendly, sourced from a simple property from simple people.

And for them to be so huge, so incredibly juicy.

It was amazing what some natural growing could do, to go back to your roots and grow things right, the way they should be.

With lemons like these, who needed gmos and all those harmful, disease causing chemicals?

Nevertheless, Tweek took the tray from Mrs Tweak's outstretched hands, ducking his head. "T-thanks, Mom." He returned her nod as she smiled from ear to ear, ushering him out the door and wishing him a good day, Tweek trying to avoid looking down at the sugary biohazard perched in his hands.

It was a secret that'd been entrusted to him and would die with him. He was sure the townsfolk would feel very different about their McCormick lemons if they knew the truth.

If only half of them knew Kenny had been pissing on that tree since before he could walk.

But Mrs Tweak, knowing none of the better in her oblivious paradise, smiled. "You're welcome, sweetie."

"Y-yeah." Tweek looked at the clock one last time. It was already ten, but considering now that he was already late, he might as well take his time getting to Tweak Bros, seeing that it wouldn't make much of a difference anyways. Kenny rarely showed up on time. Still couldn't hurt to get out the house though. "I-I r-really gotta go now." He mentioned in goodbye for what felt like one too many times that morning. He stepped over the threshold, more than ready to get out of this godforsaken house, at least for the rest of the day despite what was in store for him. "Bye, g-guys."

Mrs Tweak waved from the table. "Don't let us keep you, hon. See ya!"

"And make sure you're back by a reasonable-" Came Mr Tweak's voice from inside, but Tweek didn't get to hear the rest of his sentence as he shut the door, cringing when the wind added momentum and slammed it closed with finality.

He stood rooted to the spot for a second, straining an ear to listen for sounds of angry voices from within, even though his parents had made it a rule not to get mad at their perfect gay son.

After a few moments and hearing nothing, Tweek faced the road, jumping down the stairs leading from his house to the main road, lemon bars in hand.

He kept his eyes forward, drinking in the first signs of life on his street, kids playing and adults rushing to and fro.

As he set out for Tweak Bros, he wondered if they knew, knew where he was heading and what challenges awaited him, the uncertainty that plagued his head.

He ventured out onto the road, kicking an empty soda can and sending it spinning down the street.

He wondered if they knew that this might potentially be the last day of his life.

OoOoOoOo

((Kudos if you reached the end of this massive chapter! A very sincere thank you to everybody who has supported this story thus far and done the hard yards and waited so long between chapters just for me! Consider this a New Years' present for all you guys who make the effort worthwhile!

2018's here and I'm ready to make writing a higher priority for myself, so look forward to some more continuous and regular updates for 'Closeted' which will continue within the next two weeks with a shiny new chapter for you guys!

Once again, thank you to the ends of the Earth for going out of your way to support me along this endeavour and read the work I pour my heart and soul into! I hope 2018 is already off to a good start for all of you!

See ya in a few days, forever your 'we-don't-take-kindly-to-making-your-readers-wait-months-for-a-second-chapter' friend ~ KennBoKenn.))