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The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon, lighting up the sky in brilliant shades of blue and orange; early birds are chirping lazily in the trees; the streets are empty, the streetlights flickering, caught in that weird in-between of night and day; and Tweek Tweak is pissed.
He stomps along the sidewalk, muttering angrily under his breath, finally coming up with all the rebuttals to last night's argument that he had been too emotional to think of in the moment. Raking his fingers through his hopelessly messy golden hair, he interrupts his own rant to yawn, inhaling a lungful of the chilly Colorado air that hits his overly sensitive teeth in just the right way. Tweek clamps his mouth shut, letting out a frustrated muffled shriek at the sharp pain that travels throughout his entire body. Fuck Colgate, "24/7 sensitivity protection," his ass.
He wraps his arms tightly around his body as the wind picks up, shivering against the cold and now pissed at himself in addition to everything else for not remembering to grab his fucking jacket. He'd just been so unable to think straight after being up arguing half the night and being too full of adrenaline to sleep the other half that he'd totally spaced on the fact that he lives in Colorado and that five-thirty in the morning in Colorado is cold as shit.
He turns the corner off of Main Street, hardly even paying attention to the road as he crosses the street, still muttering to himself. He's so caught up in his head, imagining the way things could have gone had he been able to come up with these things last night, that he stomps right past the coffee shop, halfway to the front gate of the storage facility before a voice calls him back.
"Tweek!"
Tweek stops in his tracks, looking around for the source of the voice, only now realizing how far he'd overshot his destination. Kenny's waving at him from outside Tweek Bros. Coffee and Tweek sighs, turning to retrace his steps back to the shop.
"What's up with you?" Kenny asks as Tweek reaches him and starts digging in his pocket for his keys. "You look like you're gonna kill someone."
Tweek rolls his eyes, stepping forward to unlock the door. The lock clicks and he holds the door open, gesturing for Kenny to go inside first. "Craig's a dick."
"Uh oh," Kenny says with a grin, hopping over the threshold and immediately unzipping his trademark orange coat. "What'd Loverboy do this time?"
Pulling the door closed behind them, Tweek flips the lock and shakes his head. "It's more what he didn't do."
"Oh," Kenny says, drawing out the word and nodding knowingly. "Tucker's selfish in the sack, huh? That tracks."
Tweek's face reddens. "No!" he says, rubbing his arms to try to warm himself up. It's colder inside the coffee shop than it is outside, because Tweek's parents think that turning the heat off at night is a genius way to save money. "Jesus! Nothing like that. He's just– He was being an asshole." He heads to the back to turn on the heat because Christ, Kenny on his heels.
"And we're surprised by this?" Kenny holds both hands up in surrender as Tweek whips his head around to glare at him. "Whoa, okay, chill, you're the one that called him an asshole."
"He is an asshole," Tweek grumbles, frowning at the thermostat. Fifty-three degrees, what the hell?! He pushes the buttons to turn the heat on and up to seventy-two, and then grabs a couple of the dark green Tweek Bros. aprons. Tossing one to Kenny, he says, "Doesn't mean you have to be one too."
"Point taken." Kenny slips the apron on and ties the strings into a big bow at the back. "So it wasn't anything specific, he was just...being an asshole?"
Tweek fumbles with the strings of his own apron before giving up and just leaving them in one giant knot. It's going to be a bitch to untie later but it's way too early for him to care right now. "He– Yeah," he says, walking out to the front counter and kneeling down to open the safe. "He just–ngh!"
He pulls out the register trays and begins counting the money to make sure his dad hadn't fucked up the float too much when he'd closed the night before. "He just doesn't care!" he blurts out, coins rattling on the plastic as he grumpily tosses them into the right sections of the tray .
"About what?" Kenny starts unwrapping the trays of pastries and arranging them neatly inside the glass food display case. "Or are you just now realizing that he just doesn't care about much in general?"
"Shut up." Tweek throws a dime at Kenny – because what's ten cents in the grand scheme of things? – the small coin hitting him right between the eyes.
"Ow!" Kenny rubs his face. "Nice shot, but what the hell?"
"He cares," Tweek says, going back to counting. "He cares about a lot of shit, just not…" He makes another angry huffing noise. "Not himself!"
"Wait." Kenny stops his pastry case beautification routine to give Tweek a confused look. "Why exactly are you pissed at him?"
"Because!" Tweek stands up and jabs at a button on the register, dropping one of the plastic trays of money inside the empty drawer that spits out. He slams the drawer shut and heads over to the drive-thru corner to do the same with the register over there. After closing the drawer, he takes a second to look out the window at the sunrise, to try to calm himself down enough to finish opening the store without breaking anything.
"Uh-huh." Kenny slides a tray of chocolate scones into the pastry case. "Well, that seems valid. You're pissed at him because."
Tweek snatches two of the three drive-thru headsets hanging above the sliding window. He adjusts one over his ears, flinging the other one at Kenny who barely manages to catch it before it smacks him right in the face. "You wanna be window or front?"
"I'll do front," Kenny says, putting the headset on. "I think you might scare people away this morning, with your murder face on."
Tweek just scowls at him and gets to work on setting up the rest of the store. He's been opening the coffee shop on weekends since he was ten, most of the time by himself, and after seven years' experience he could get the place up and running in his sleep. His parents had hired Kenny once they'd gotten the drive-thru added a couple of months ago; they said it was because the increased business would be too much for Tweek to handle on his own, but Kenny told him it was because he'd walked in on a drug deal between his family's renters and Tweek's dad and they were just trying to buy his silence.
Three guesses who Tweek believed.
The upside of having Kenny around to help open the shop was that things got done twice as fast, which meant that Tweek was able to really take the time and brew himself a perfect cup of coffee to enjoy in peace before the morning rush.
"So come on," Kenny says. The two of them are sitting on the counter, Tweek with his mug of coffee, Kenny slurping away at a cup of water, the straw basically glued to his lips. "What did you guys fight about?"
Tweek sighs over his coffee, the exhalation causing ripples in the dark liquid. "University."
"University," Kenny repeats incredulously. "You're this pissed about Craig and university?"
"He got into Columbia!" Tweek's words come out in a rush, and he feels a burst of pride just thinking about it. He gestures wildly, nearly spilling his coffee all over himself. "They have one of the best astronomy programs in the country!"
"Shit," Kenny says, blue eyes wide. "Columbia? Jesus Christ, that's huge! No wonder you're upset though, that's pretty fucking far away. Did you know he even applied there?"
"Actually, that's kind of the thing." Tweek takes a long drink of coffee, savoring the warmth it brings as he swallows. "He didn't. I sort of sent in the application for him."
"Okay." Kenny sets his cup of water down beside him on the counter. "And I mean this with absolutely no offense, Tweek, but… Why the fuck would you do that?"
"Because!" Tweek gulps down the rest of the coffee before answering, setting the mug down with a clatter. "Because it's perfect for him! I knew he'd get in, but every time I tried to talk to him about applying he wouldn't even have a conversation about it!" He jumps down off the counter and starts pacing the floor. "And I know that it's only because he knows I'm staying in South Park after we graduate to work here! I can't let him give up his future for me!"
"I mean," Kenny says with a shrug. "It's his future, though. What did he say when he found out he got in?"
Tweek throws his arms up in the air. "That's the other thing! He was genuinely happy about it! I watched him open that envelope, Kenny, I know he was excited about it." He tugs on his hair with one hand. "He was doing that thing he does, where he mouths the words while he's reading them and I just–aghh!"
The cat clock on the wall chimes, signalling that it's time to open the shop, and Tweek heads over to unlock the front door. "But then he was all like, 'Tweek, this was really sweet of you, but you know I can't go.' How can he not go!? It's Columbia!"
Kenny lets Tweek stomp his way past before also hopping off the counter to lean against the register. "I don't know, I think I'd be incredibly flattered if someone chose me over a great school like that." Clearly that's the wrong answer, as Tweek whirls around to glare at him, murder in his brilliant green eyes again, but before he can come up with a retort, there's a loud beep in the headsets as a car pulls up to the speaker box.
"Hi, welcome to Tweek Coffee," Tweek says, switching on his cheery customer service voice. "What can we get for you?"
"Can I get a–"
"Fuck you." Tweek pushes the button to turn off his headset's microphone. He crosses his arms and jerks his head in the direction of the drive-thru corner. "You go talk to him."
Kenny sighs, not really sure how he's already gotten himself in the middle of a lovers' quarrel at six o'clock on Saturday morning, but deciding to just go ahead and embrace it. He slides the window open and leans out, resting his elbows on the outside ledge. "Morning, Craig."
Craig gives him a tired nod from the drivers' seat of his old Chevy Nova. "Hey." He's not wearing his hat, and it's obvious that he hasn't gotten any sleep either.
"You look like shit," Kenny observes. "Rough night?"
Craig runs a hand through his dark hair, almost as dark as the circles underneath his eyes. "Yep."
"Congratulations on Columbia." Kenny can't resist.
Craig sighs. "Tweek told you."
"Yeah." With a shrug, Kenny adds, unnecessarily, "He's pissed."
"I know." Craig sighs again. "He's not going to come talk to me, is he?"
"I wouldn't bet on it." Kenny glances behind him at where Tweek is angrily slamming brewers around to make more coffee. "Maybe come back in a while, see if he'll cool off."
"Yeah," Craig says quietly, his eyes on the steering wheel. "Sure."
Kenny pulls his body back through the window and straightens up. "Dude," he says to Tweek, keeping a safe distance. "That was the first time I've ever seen Craig Tucker actually look upset about anything. Don't you think you should talk to him?"
"Why?" Tweek practically throws the plastic container of ground coffee back into the cupboard under the counter. "I tried to talk to him last night, and look how well that worked!"
"Look, Tweek, don't take this the wrong way–" Kenny cringes as Tweek rounds on him, eyes blazing. "–but I think maybe you're overreacting a little."
"I'm not overreacting!" Tweek nearly shouts, and Kenny backs up a step, startled at the outburst. "Do you have any idea how many sacrifices he's made for me? He's always turning down Clyde and Token when they ask him to hang out, or being late for work because he waits to make sure I take my stupid drugs on time, or not sleeping on the nights I can't sleep!" Tweek's voice cracks with emotion. "He deserves to do something for him! Why can't I be the one who's there for him just this once?"
Beep!
"Hi, welcome to Tweek Co–"
"Tweek, honey, please talk to me."
"No!" Tweek yells. Kenny winces and turns down the volume on his own headset.
"Are you going to just be pissed at me all day?" The exhaustion in Craig's voice is amplified by the crackly speaker quality.
"Are you going to go to Columbia?" Tweek fires back. He rips a blank piece of paper out of the daily communication notebook and scribbles furiously for a moment.
"Tweek–"
"The drive-thru is for customers." Tweek grabs the tape dispenser and the paper, and stalks over to the drive-thru window. Kenny has to hold back a laugh as he watches Tweek tape the paper to the glass. It's a drawing of an angry face that is also sticking out its tongue, and Kenny takes a second to marvel at the fact that angry Tweek Tweak is just as immature as the rest of them.
"Fine," is all Craig says before pulling past the speaker. Kenny watches through the window as the Nova speeds past, not slowing down for a second.
"Huh," he says. "I half-expected him to order something just to keep talking to you."
"Whatever," Tweek mutters. "I don't care."
Craig comes back through the drive-thru twice more before the clock hits eleven AM. Both times, Tweek refuses to speak to him once it becomes apparent that it's Craig on the other end of the speaker, and Kenny's starting to think the whole thing is ridiculous. He's leaning on the front counter observing the Saturday pre-afternoon crowd while Tweek is down on the floor, poking around in the safe to get him some more change. Tweek has just handed Kenny a roll of quarters when the familiar beep sounds in their headsets again.
"Jesus Christ!" Tweek blurts out into the microphone, exhaustion and frustration completely overriding any filter he may otherwise have. "Can't you just leave me the hell alone today?!"
"Uh, I'm sorry?" A voice that is definitely not Craig's replies. "I just wanted a snack?"
"Oh, God!" Tweek turns off his headset, his face bright red. "Shit!"
Kenny just shakes his head and turns his own headset on. "Hey, Clyde, whatcha need?"
"Dude, is Tweek okay?"
"He's not having the best day. But he didn't mean to yell at you," Kenny says as Tweek shuts the safe's door and stands up. "What can we do for you today?"
"Uh, yeah, can I just have a, um, a cookie?" Clyde sounds unsure, like Tweek's going to flip out on him for asking for it and Tweek mentally cringes.
"Sure thing, we have chocolate chip and peanut butter," Kenny says, peering into the pastry case.
"Choc– peanut butter," says Clyde. "What – oh, and a water."
"Gotcha. Tweek'll see you at the window, and I promise he won't bite." Kenny grabs the cookie out of the case with a pair of tongs, drops it into a bag, and hands it to Tweek. "Good thing that was just Clyde. Seriously, Tweek, you need to chill out."
"I know," Tweek admits, holding a cup underneath the filtered water tap. "I'm just so frustrated, and I didn't sleep, and I don't know how to make Craig understand that Columbia is a good idea!"
"I mean, I don't think that's the real issue, from what you've told me." Kenny shrugs. "You said he seemed excited to get the letter, right? He just doesn't want to be away from you. I'm no relationship expert, but maybe you need to figure out why that is. Like, maybe he thinks you guys can't survive a long-distance relationship or something. Maybe he couldn't go that long without gettin' some sweet lovin'. Who knows?"
Tweek snaps a lid onto the cup of water. "I guess," he sighs. "Maybe. Maybe I should have been nicer." He picks up the cup and the cookie. "I guess I could talk to him."
"That's the spirit!" Kenny says with a grin. "Go ahead and do that now. 'Cause I'm pretty sure he's with Clyde at the window."
Tweek looks in the direction of the drive-thru window, then back at Kenny. "Do you think you can handle things in here if I go out and talk to him?"
"Sure, I'll be fine." Kenny waves his hand dismissively. "If you're worried, just send Clyde in here, he can help me out. People can't get angry at him, he's too cute."
Tweek nods, cracking a smile for the first time all day, and heads over to the back door. He pushes it open, carefully checking to make sure he's not walking right into the path of an oncoming car, and then walks right up to the Chevy Nova idling beside the window. He can see the top of Craig's head over the drivers' seat, and when he taps on the passenger side window, Clyde jumps a foot in the air before rolling down the window.
"Holy hell, Tweek, you scared me!" he says. "What are you doing out here?"
"Can you go help Kenny?" Tweek says, feeling Craig's eyes on him but refusing to make eye contact just yet. "I have to talk to Craig."
"Oh. Uh, sure." Clyde unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the car. "Can I have my cookie at least?"
Tweek hands him the bag, and then slides into the passenger seat as Clyde heads inside the shop. He passes Craig the cup of water, still not looking at him, and he feels, more than sees, Craig put it into one of the cupholders. He pulls the car forward, maneuvering into one of the empty parking spaces in front of the store, and shuts off the engine. For a minute, neither of them say a word.
And then they start speaking at the same time.
"I'm sorry I was–"
"I shouldn't have–"
They stop. Try again.
"I didn't mean to–"
"I just wanted to–"
They stop again. Tweek looks over at Craig's hands, resting on the steering wheel. He follows the trail up the sleeves of his blue sweatshirt, over his shoulders, and up again until he's looking into those familiar slate-gray eyes that he loves so much.
"I'm sorry," he says. "I was an asshole. I just wanted to try to do something for you, for once. You've done so much for me since we've been together."
Craig reaches over to hold Tweek's hand. "I shouldn't have just said no without talking to you about it," he says. "I didn't mean to just dismiss what you did for me." He pauses. "I guess I just got overwhelmed. The fact that I got into fuckin' Columbia of all things was hard enough to come to terms with, you know?"
Tweek squeezes Craig's hand gently. "I knew you would before I sent in the application."
"You have too much faith in me," Craig says with a small smile. He taps his hand against the steering wheel. "I'd love to go." The words come out slowly. "But it's just– It's so fuckin' far away from here, Tweek. From you."
Tweek opens his mouth, ready to throw out all those counterarguments he'd been muttering to himself at five-thirty in the morning: Craig needs to worry about his own future, Tweek can take care of himself, he doesn't need protecting, he doesn't want Craig to give up the opportunity to–
"Come with me."
"What?!" Caught off guard, Tweek can only stare at him.
Craig tucks Tweek's hair behind his ear with his free hand, and repeats, "Come with me. I was looking into it last night. Columbia's got couples' housing, if I apply for it now there's a good chance we'll get in. You can get a job out there and still work and save up money like you were planning." He takes both of Tweek's hands in his. "I love you so much for pushing me to do this, but I don't want to do this without you."
Tweek's mind is racing, trying to process the words that he's hearing, and feeling like an asshole for letting his temper get the better of him; because while he was storming around having a tantrum, Craig had been actively trying to find a way to incorporate Tweek and Columbia into his life. "Couples' housing?" he says, scrunching up his face in thought. "I thought only married people were allowed to live in those."
"So let's get married."
Tweek laughs, cutting himself off when he realizes that Craig is dead serious. "We can't get married! We're still in high school!"
"So?" Craig shrugs, like that's completely insignificant. "I'm eighteen. You'll be eighteen in August. We can get married just after your birthday and by the time fall semester starts you'll be Tweek Tucker."
Tweek Tucker.
Tweek can't count the number of times he's said that name quietly to himself at night, or scribbled it in the back of a notebook during history class. But he can't– They can't– Can they…?
"Tweek?" Craig leans forward, his face so close to Tweek's their foreheads are almost touching. He lets go of Tweek's hands and slides his own up Tweek's arms to rest on his shoulders. "We can do this. It won't be easy, I know that, but together we can do anything. I love you more than anything else in this world. I would never ask you to do anything I didn't one hundred percent believe in."
In response, Tweek brings his hands up to rest on the back of Craig's neck. "Craig," he says softly, before pulling him closer to kiss him. Craig wraps his arms around Tweek's back and holds him tightly. When Tweek pulls away, Craig says, a bit breathlessly, "Is that a yes?"
A tiny smile tugs at the corner of Tweek's mouth. "You didn't ask me a question."
Craig does his best to suppress a smile at the sass. The sass is a good sign. "Tweek Tweak, love of my life and pain in my ass, will you marry me and come to Columbia fuckin' University with me in September?"
"Wow," Tweek says with a shake of his head, his hair tickling Craig's nose. "No ring, and you said 'fuckin'' in the proposal. How romantic."
"Who said romance is dead?" Craig tilts his head to the side. "You didn't answer me though."
Tweek rolls his eyes, but he can't stop the smile that takes over his entire face. "Yes, Craig Tucker, stubborn asshole that I love with all my heart, I will marry you and live at Columbia fuckin' University with you in September."
Craig kisses the tip of Tweek's nose and grins. "Our parents are gonna fuckin' love this."
"My parents can suck it," Tweek says flippantly. "Yours at least won't try to guilt you into staying."
"Nah, they're gonna be happy to get rid of me. They'll turn my room into an art gallery or some shit." Craig runs his fingers through Tweek's hair again. "Thank you," he says quietly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Tweek leans his head on Craig's shoulder and traces circles down his arms; smiling up at his now-fiance, he replies, "Lucky for you, you'll never have to find out."
The sun is shining brightly in the clear blue sky; a few seagulls are fighting over half a discarded box of pizza in the parking lot; a group of bikers are zooming past obnoxiously loudly; and even though his whole future has just changed in the blink of an eye, Tweek Tweak is happier than he's ever been.