THE STRANGE ATTRACTION SYNDROME

northernfanart: northewind: I couldn’t sleep so I doodled a...

Mon, 24 Dec 2012 16:12:54 -0500

northewind:

I couldn’t sleep so I doodled a face.

Reblogging because when I drew this I was trying to think of what Tweek would look like from The Strange Attraction Syndrome by Ichabod.Wolfe…making it (technically) fan art.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

This is so realistic. I honestly wasn’t expecting to see this when I clicked your page. It’s drawn so nicely, though! I really like the shape of his eyes and eyebrows (: Thank you so much. This honestly just made my Christmas Eve. I am fully content with the entire day now.

Could you give me a brief description of how exactly both Tweek and Craig appear in your story? Your descriptions in-story are beautifully written, and I love them so much. I would love to have a straight forward reference, though :)

Mon, 24 Dec 2012 16:01:00 -0500

I hope that I answer this correctly ^^;

I’m not sure if you wanted me to describe their clothing, but I’m doing it anyways! Tweek is a very well dressed type of guy (probably even more so because he’s a huge faggot). His wardrobe consists of a lot of button ups - of which he wears buttoned to the top - and sweaters that hang off his shoulder. Cardigans, scarves, boots - especially ankle boots - and bow ties. He likes patterns like polkadots and stripes as well as pastel colors.

As for his body, despite being short - I would say around 5’6” - he gives off the appearance of looking long and lithe. Craig at one point describes him as “feline”. He’s quite skinny with prominent bones and little hands - for a boy - with manicured nails. Tweek has random patches of freckles on his face and shoulders, although the ones on his face are very light and scarce. He doesn’t like body hair, and I would like to think that that is self-explanatory ;D

His facial features are what distinguish him the most. Craig had once referred to a technique done by other artists who would take specific details from random faces, maybe just passerby or a select group of people, and put them together to create someone new. He says that Tweek is like that new face constructed by so many other features, that it’s almost like he’s out of place and yet not.

The color of his eyes is very crystalline, just the smallest hint of green like mint or pastel. They are big, always opened wide and doe-like so that he may look alert, confused, and innocent all at the same time. Because they are constantly so wide, his eye lashes - which are naturally long - extend almost to his brow bone. There are a few sparsely place blonde lashes that appear throughout the black. Tweek’s nose is loosely compared to Navi noses (Avatar) or bull terrier puppies, although this upsets him and he denies it entirely. He has a full, shapely mouth with pale lips and an undefined cupids bow. It’s a nervous habit for him to suck on his bottom lip and so sometimes it is seen as just the barest hint smaller than his top. His entire face is surprisingly symmetrical and his smile has no crooked tendencies. Each of his teeth are straight and described as wide. He’s prone to blushing, has slender eyebrows, and pale blonde hair which continues to display itself haphazardly.

This is all that I can think up on the spot D: I’m pretty sure that you were just referring to how they appear feature-wise and not personality or anything, although if you were asking for that as well, just tell me and I can always give an explanation :D I hope that this was satisfactory and that I haven’t left anything important out!

And now onto Craig.

Where Tweek is in the 5’6” range, Craig towers as a whopping 6’3”. His father is 6’4”. Craig will never surpass him. Mr. Tucker would cut off his ankles if he ever did (:

Craig is a ridiculously lanky dude, although I guess that the purpose for that is defeated when I also say that he has a lean body type and doesn’t slouch. His legs have a slight bow legged look to them that flows with the angle of his upper body and supposedly he’s got the cutest butt because Tweek can’t ever stop staring at it. His arms have a bit of protruding muscle and on his stomach is the barest little sliver of chub.

His skin is notably pale, probably from the ginger side - his father’s side - of the family, although he didn’t inherit the freckles. The color of his eyes is the palest of blues, closely resembling ice rather than actual blue. It contrasts greatly with his hair which is thick and black and sometimes - rarely never because Craig doesn’t ever do shit - styled in an odd sort of modified quiff. Modified because of the length. He does get a lot of bed head, though.

Craig’s facial features have a subtle masculinity, sculpted in places like his jawline whereas he goes soft on the eyes. He has a full mouth, red in color, and defined cupids bow. Grins and smirks are seen more frequently than his smile which is crooked, usually vicious and wolfish. His teeth are crooked, as well, especially his bottom and a very slight overlap in his top.

Like Tweek, Craig is refined when it comes to his clothing. He’s been known to enjoy a good button up and I just recently confessed that he has an obsession with expensive shoes. He’s not as strict as Tweek with his style and sometimes just wears a pair of sweats or steals Clyde’s clothes which are much more casual than his. It’s more of a love for tailored suits and outdated styles from many, many years ago rather than actually owning such nice clothing.

And I certainly don’t want to forget that Craig has gauges because when I originally began to write The Strange Attraction Syndrome, that was in the request from the person who suggested I write this (:

Mother of God, I sure hope that this is what you were expecting. If you have any other questions, go ahead and ask. And thank you so much for asking this to begin with. I really enjoyed answering in such depth.

You are Tweek! The female version, anyway. But there's not much of a difference. I've already imagined him to look abnormally feminine. Anyhow, you're both fucking lovely. Fantastic story, I'm on chapter 20.

Wed, 19 Dec 2012 14:30:52 -0500

Sometimes I honestly do feel like I’m writing a fanfiction about myself :P Oh how pissed people would be if they actually found out that this entire time that Tweek was me. Hahahaha.

Without this story...I'm dying. D:

Wed, 19 Dec 2012 14:26:31 -0500

Die no longer. I have given you like ten chapters of sanctuary.

Your story is totally ace, man. Like, seriously. And I don't care if I sound like a creeper, but your face is also super ace(I didn't mean to rhyme but whatever). Kay bye~.

Wed, 19 Dec 2012 14:25:50 -0500

Whether you’re a creeper or not, if it’s a compliment, I’ll take it, dude. Hahaha.

Lady, you are beautiful and gogeous.

Wed, 19 Dec 2012 14:18:55 -0500

I am beyond flattered. Thank you.

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

Wed, 19 Dec 2012 14:03:48 -0500

Title: The Strange Attraction Syndrome - Chapter Forty-one
Pairing: Creek
Rating: M
Summary: Ten years is a long time to have an unrequited crush, but Tweek’s wait is just about over. So much for Craig being asexual.
Point of View: Craig

A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen.

—Edward de Bono

The plan was originally to stop by Tweek’s house so that he could grab some medication since he hadn’t anticipated visiting my old home which was excusable because the Tuckers could be an intimidating family. It ended up being a ploy just so the blonde could escape the inevitable: meeting my intimidating family. He then began continuously attempting to refuse the invitation, claiming he’s seen my parents enough times to know who they were.

“You know that it’s only fair for you to meet my parents since I did yours.”

“I’ve met your mom before, dude! Just come back to my house once you’re done.” He was literally stuck to his mailbox, arms wound tightly around the post. I had my fingers hooked through a few of his belt loops and was tugging on him at random intervals to hopefully catch him off guard and tear him away.

“Good. Then it won’t be awkward,” I said. He looked over his shoulder to glare at me. “Come on, Tweek. You’ll love my sister. She’s a girl just like you.”

“Now I’m definitely not going anywhere.”

“I was kidding.” My hands flattened out against his body before slipping up the expanse of his chest. “Obviously these aren’t boobs.”

To shake me off, he twisted away from me and commanded, “Don’t touch me.”

I grinned and pressed my mouth against the back of his head. “That’s not what you want,” I told him, lowering my voice and my lips to the shell of his ear. I’m what you want. You do want me to touch you. The expansion of his chest as he inhaled stunted when my fingers traveled back down, sliding along his stomach and running down the fronts of his thighs. When they came up, I slipped one of my hands between his legs. His arms immediately slackened. I stepped back and brought him with me, pressing his body against mine.

My palm dipped, rubbing against the front of his jeans. The blonde’s breath fled quickly. I easily noted the slight thrust of his hips, the way he tipped his head back, and the rapid flutter of his lashes. An amused hum from my lips vibrated against his ear, alerting him to his predicament as well as our location. He pushed away from me and punched my arm. “You jerk!” He dove for the mailbox again, but I grabbed him from around the waist and hauled him toward my car. “No! Stop it! Craig, please!”

Ignoring his cries, I flung the door open and shoved him inside. “Shh,” I suggested, leaning in to kiss him. He allowed me this and I found that I had kind of missed his mouth. There was a plush softness to it that formed to my own. Not only that, but we were familiar with how the other kissed. We were synchronized, the time of our movements cohesive.

It wasn’t planned, but I got closer, nipping at his bottom lip as I caged him against the seat. His hands reached for my shoulders, one threading through my hair. The sensation of his fingers rekindled with my locks irked me into realizing that I’d missed that, too. I didn’t want it to go away again. He tipped his chin up and drew me further into the car, clinging to my shirt and the back of my head. Complying, I rested one knee against the seat cushion.

When Tweek’s lips parted next, our tongues grazed, inclining me to mesh our mouths together. He arched in a way that tried to bring our bodies as near as our tongues. I dropped one of my hands to the column of his throat because I’d been right: he wanted me to touch him. My fingers drifted, tracing the loose collar of his shirt where I pushed it off his shoulder and covered his skin with the palm of my hand. It was smooth and warm, similar to his mouth and the puff of his breath. His hold on my hair clenched, nails lightly scraping across my scalp. It sent goosebumps down my arms and as a sort of reward or maybe just for my own benefit I tucked my hand beneath his shirt.

He exhaled shakily, skin trembling under the pads of my fingers as they wandered along his side and across his chest. Weeks without physical contact of this sort must’ve made him impatient because he felt for my free hand and put it with the other. I was surprised by his nobility and chuckled against his tongue, framing his waist and dragging my hands up the course of his ribcage. My shirt rode up due to the responsive fisting of his fingers and I wondered if he was thinking that he could take my shirt off just like I was thinking that I could take myownshirt off.

It was noticeable, however small, when his hand tugged just the barest bit forward. He took my flannel with it that sparse inch. I could feel how tentative he was, how his mouth lagged as he began to over-think decisions that should’ve come naturally. To distract him, I circled my thumbs into his skin and hiked his shirt up higher. Momentarily, he forgot his thoughts and flicked his tongue against my own, breathing harshly through his nose. I pushed him against the seat, half climbing into the car so that I could settle my knee between his thighs.

Just the presence of it tempted him and he wound his arms around my shoulders in a struggle to bring me closer. His teeth pinched my bottom lip, and as he sucked, he stroked his tongue across the skin. My hold on him plunged toward his hips where I held him firmly and lifted him onto my bent leg. He moved effortlessly, sitting in a way that brought our chests together. I raised my hands, removed his shirt. The blonde pulled away to pant and I used that as an excuse to trail my lips down his jawline, leaving openmouthed kisses as I went. His head turned, neck outstretched in automatic welcome.

Only a few nips were given before I had to let him choose how this was going to work. “We can either stop right now,” I told him, shifting my palms around to his back to press him closer. “Or we can go inside where I’m sure I can persuade you to reconsider meeting my parents.”

Tweek groaned for a reason that had absolutely nothing to do with our intimacy. “You’re going to make me go either way, aren’t you?”

Against his neck, I murmured a quiet affirmative.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Let’s just go to your house.”

“Awh.” I feigned a look of disappointment as I buckled him in. “No making out in your room? I’m getting old, dude. I want to feel like I’m fifteen again.”

His cheeks took on a pink hue. It occurred to me then that a scenario like that has probably run through his imagination multiple times throughout the duration of this crush. “Fuck no. No kissing, no touching, no anything inside of my house. My parents would slaughter both of us.”

“Okay,” I grumbled, still feigning sodden emotions. As I bent down to pick up his shirt, he punched me in the shoulder to snap me out of it. At the attack, my mood immediately shifted. “I like this top. It makes you look all cute and tiny.”

“Then why’d you take it off?” He snorted, snatching it from my grasp.

“Because I like what’s beneath it better.” Tweek gawked at me as I winked and shut the door. I laughed on my way to the other side of the car because that had honestly been a pretty gay line. The blonde was still trying to keep himself together by covering himself up as I started the car and backed out of his driveway.

Driving through South Park just made me feel downright off. Like I was traveling through a neighborhood of memories, reliving them in a sense. I passed phantom images of me walking down the sidewalk or traveling in just the other lane. The only thing was that a few details weren’t quite right. Certain buildings, houses, and shops I distinctly remembered four years ago were either gone or replaced. The dinky restaurant I’d gotten my first job at was now a quick-stop mechanic’s and a few fast food joints had switched themselves around to find better business in different locations even though they were all technically the same.

It wasn’t that I missed this town, but it was strange seeing it continue on without me, Clyde, and Token. When I was younger, I had always thought of the three of us as being vital to the town’s progression. We’d always been involved despite our—or at least my—reluctance. Maybe I’d just been conceited, though, because this place seemed to be doing fine in our absence. I was picking up a quaint feel from it, which was weird, because this messed up little place was anything but.

My parents weren’t going to know what to think when they saw me. It was their job to visit me since I had never expected to come back home, especially not for Tweek. Perhaps I’d finally get a scare out of my dad for once in my life. He was like the fearless man, and I guessed that was where I got my sense of blasé from. I could remember a time when I’d faked my death just to harp him. Even went through the trouble of getting an officer who was the a parent of a friend to break the terrible news. Problem was: he never fell for it. He told the officer to fuck off, both verbally and with a hand gesture, because that was the way the Tucker family did it.

As we continued down a familiar route, one that I was sure missed me as much as I missed it, I spoke to the quiet blonde who was gazing out the window. He’d never been to my house before so this would be a new experience for him. The Tucker’s generally weren’t a customary bunch. “On a scale of one to ten, how excited are you to meet my family?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “How excited were you to meet mine?”

“Ouch.” My sarcasm was apparent. “My heart…it aches.” The anticipation was putting him in a bad mood, though I was positive he’s always wanted to meet my parents. He had the crush of all crushes on me; of course he wanted to be personally acquainted with them. “I was pretty goddamn excited. A high nine, I’d say. Your mom totally thinks I’m cute.”

He refused to drop his attitude at my assumption. “Yeah, well so does Kyle. And Thomas. Stan was a bit wooed by you, too.”

“Oh yeah?” I grinned and glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “And what about you?”

The apples of his cheeks began to change color and he turned his head away to keep me from noticing too late. “What about me?”

“Do you think I’m cute?” He tried to close the conversation by staying quiet, but I wasn’t finished yet. “You’re too afraid to admit it, but you do. You wouldn’t kiss me otherwise.” You wouldn’t like me so much otherwise. As he grew disgruntled, upset by my straightforwardness, I said, “I think you’re cute, too.”

For a moment he simply sat there. The blonde might’ve been content to leave things like that, or possibly just humbled by my confession. Instead, he smiled and contradicted me by saying, “No, you don’t.” He waited for me to glance at him before adding, “You think I’m beautiful.”

That was clearly something he took pride in, and that was okay, because I had no shame. My lips spread into a smirk. “I think you’re very beautiful.”

Quietly, he asked, voice lost beneath his breath, “What’s your f-favorite thing about me? L-Like, which feature is my best?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me,” I bargained. Tweek rolled his eyes, agreeing easily enough. This was going to be good. “You’re short, but your body is long. It’s feline, which is attractive to me.”

“Oh.” He perked up in his seat, a reaction that satisfied me. “I—uhm. I guess” —he guesses; that’s hilarious— ”I like… Okay, this is going to sound weird, but I like the change between you from before and you now. You’re uh—aging process? Sweet Jesus, this is coming out all wrong. You changed a lot. Like, you were kind of rebellious before and now you just look really classy. It’s t-tasteful? Like—fuck, I just like it.”

“You like that I look like a gentleman?”

Flustered by my question, he stuttered out a frazzled, “Yeah—uhm—I—It’s. You’re just a good looking dude.”

“And that’s my best feature?” Just wait until you see my dick.

“Jesus Christ, Craig.” A blunt redness shot through Tweek’s face. “I was trying to skirt past that because I like your hips. Your hips are really fucking nice, okay?”

He was so angry and it was so cute that I couldn’t help but laugh. I knew he liked my hips and I knew he liked me both from before and now and I knew that he liked everything about me. It was just so funny getting a rise out of him because he made it so easy.

“Okay.” I assented, nodding my head as I turned onto a road overrun with nostalgia. The car slowed in time with the sentimentality that took me by surprise by consuming me entirely. “Fuck.” I could see my house cresting the others and everything was so recognizable that four years had done absolutely nothing. The thick-trunked tree with its gimp branch was still in my neighbor’s yard. My dad still owned the same massive truck. Everything was as it has always been.

There was a mere second somewhere inside of me that never moved. It stayed in South Park and went to the community college down the street. I taught my sister how to drive and let her sneak out in the middle of the night with just her permit, and even though I was still here, the circumstances connecting Tweek and I were going to put us together anyways because that was just the way it was supposed to happen. Sometimes people met each other regardless.

Parking in my driveway ended up being the strangest ordeal of a life time. Did my car remember the driveway? Had it missed the hulking figure of my dad’s truck or the blocky frame of my mom’s Jeep? It was weird thinking of it as both my mom’s and my sister’s now. She’d been fourteen when I left—not old enough to drive. “What the fuck,” I breathed, confounded and cradling my head as I got out of the car. I started toward the front door with a very strange numbness orbiting through my body. Tweek’s boots scrabbled along behind me, background noise compared to the hollow sound of my return.

I didn’t even bother knocking because I knew the door would be open. The smell that hit me as I walked in instantaneously connected with a nerve. There was a smile on my face that I couldn’t rein in. It was a mixture of my dad’s cologne, my mom’s laundry detergent, and my sister’s signature fragrance. All it was missing was the light scent of my shampoo.

“Holy shit, dude.” Tweek met my glance from over my shoulder with a tentative smile. Just as I righted my head and entered the living room, I saw one thing and exclaimed far more sternly: “Holy shit, dude!”

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

Wed, 19 Dec 2012 14:02:00 -0500

Title: The Strange Attraction Syndrome - Chapter Forty
Pairing: Creek
Rating: M
Summary: Ten years is a long time to have an unrequited crush, but Tweek’s wait is just about over. So much for Craig being asexual.
Point of View: Tweek

Little kids draw pictures of the ground, the sky, and space in between. If you ask them what the in-between space is, they say, “That’s where we are.”

—Ed McCullough

Tweek’s point of view:

I’d been trying to put in a good word for Craig every chance I got—he’s completing college; he has a steady job, a steady income; he takes good care of his dogs and himself; he’s a good driver, has been since he turned sixteen and I could remember that first day he’d gotten his car—when my dad interjected and said, “I don’t want to hear this from you, Tweek. I want to hear that you have been and are going to be taken care of by him.”

I swallowed and nodded my head, spinning around on my heel to walk somewhat disjointedly to the booth containing my friends and Craig. His face was like deja vu, just as I always saw it in my memories: that apathetic set of his features and the dead look in his cold eyes. It was his default expression that he’d wear when regarding Stan, Kyle, and Cartman. It was an expression I’d never received because I hadn’t been important enough to even be noticed, but the one I was given now made up for all of the times I’ve ever wanted him to look at me.

The abrupt change in his eyes at my arrival was like a still body of water suddenly ruptured by the rapid twist of a fish flitting past and the direction of those ripples sent him to me. We looked at each other in front of Stan and Kyle and Thomas in a way that I’ve only ever desperately hoped of doing. It was just something measly that would’ve made my life back then just as it was doing now because even being acknowledged by Craig was enough to make me feel so substantial.

“My parents want to talk to you,” I said, an uncomfortable undertone thick in my voice.

His lips quirked upward and he slid from the booth, standing so much taller than me. He leaned a bit lower to say, “You have absolutely no reason to worry. Your parents are going to love me.”

Craig slipped past me and I made to follow him when Stan shot a hand out and grabbed my wrist. His answer to my incredulous look was: “Let him talk to them alone.”

Although I was wary, I trusted Stan’s opinion and tentatively took Craig’s discarded seat. “So how was your t-talk?” I couldn’t keep my eyes from shifting to stare hawk-eyed at Craig as he confidently approached my parents. I know I’ve always wanted him to meet them, but my imagination had never pictured it quite like this.

Stan and Kyle exchanged a look with a meaning that I couldn’t calibrate. “He’s Craig, Tweek.” Yes, I know he’s Craig. That’s why I like him. ”He’ll always be a bastard.”

My already unfortunate mood deflated into a flat line. Kyle spoke up as though to revive my hurt feelings. “Way to score a looker, though.” When I raised my eyes, a sly smile was spotted on his lips. “I think he might be a little into you.” His fiancé shot him a sharp look. “Not that I’m encouraging anything of the sort. I just—” He threw his hands up and shrunk down into his seat. “Stan, I can’t do this. I can’t discourage Tweek when Craig looks so fucking good.”

Exasperated, Stan said, “We haven’t given our approval yet. You can’t—”

But Kyle ignored him by pointing a finger at me and commanding, “When you see his penis, I want a detailed report because I can tell you right now that you are going to be very lucky.”

Just as my jaw unhinged, Thomas randomly stated a short series of numbers from over my shoulder. “Seven and a half, eight on a good day.”

We all turned to glance at him curiously. “What?” I asked.

“Kenny’s been waiting for me to tell you, and since we’re talking about Craig’s penis, I figured I’d go ahead and let you know.” His eyes were glistening amusedly, staring right into me. My cheeks began to burn as I realized what seven and a half, eight on a good day meant. “And I’m quoting Kenny when I say this, so this is from the man himself: ‘Craig actually likes to downplay his size. He’ll say he’s seven and a half, eight on a good day. But every time Craig manages to get a boner is a good day.’ So Kyle’s right. You are very lucky.”

Kyle’s forehead hit the tabletop. Stan’s fell back against the booth. Thomas was giggling, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the man talking to my parents. “Oh.” Everything looked like it was going okay. That…is quite large.

Experience wasn’t something I had, but I knew how to preference based on majority opinion. Rarely was he ever a sexual guy and he’d been gifted with that above-average size? I couldn’t figure out whether I wanted to be terrified or turned on. In the back of my head I could hear Kenny sniggering, saying something along the lines of “Why don’t figure out how well he can use it?”

“He’s half an inch bigger than you.” Kyle was speaking to Stan who hummed an affirmative numbly. “I think I officially give my approval.”

After heaving a deep sigh, Stan craned his neck around until he spotted Craig.

I watched him watch the other, stuck in a strange in-between because my reaction was uncertain. My parents were attentive which was always incredibly weird to witness. There was no disrespect or skepticism in their eyes and Craig was leaning his hip against the counter comfortably. Both were good things, leading me to believe that maybe he really was a parent charmer.

Once Stan righted his body, he cast me a long, steady once-over. I was still focused on the neutral expression portrayed on Craig’s profile and how sometime during all of this Thomas had made his way over to enter their conversation. “So he’s the one?”

It took me a moment to process what Stan was asking, but when I did, my heart paused and my vision fell. Everyone always seemed to talk to me about Craig in terms of love and “the one” and I didn’t know whether or not they understood the gravity of the implication attached to words and phrases like those.

It was undeniably true that I have had an insatiable, relentless obsession with him. I wasn’t going to put it past me that this attraction could’ve possibly surfaced before puberty and hormones because I’ve always wanted everything to do with him in elementary school even. It wasn’t impossible that he might be the only person I’d ever have such strong feelings for. I wanted to let him have the rest of my life—and I didn’t care if that meant knowingly or obliviously—just like he had what could be called my childhood and teenage years. I could survive four of them without him, but I couldn’t let that happen again.

The bare minimum I would take from now on would be friendship. I would sit in the fucking friend zone and guard that shit like no other. Anything less than that and I wouldn’t allow it. But the bare minimum wasn’t something I was going to worry about because there was more to gain and that was what I wanted. I wanted everything that was more than friendship. I wanted years of Craig’s life and I wanted to be close to him all the time and I wanted to give myself these things because Craig made me do scary things—good things like want, and attempt, and take.

If that was what Stan meant by “the one” and if that was what Kenny meant when he placed love and Craig Tucker in the same sentence, then that was what it would be. There wasn’t anything along lines like those that could be definable but anyone could guess and that just so happened to be theirs. I’ve just been guessing for my entire life it seemed, and when Craig reached out to shake my dad’s hand and when he leaned down to hug my mom, those few gentle exchanges made me a small fraction more certain. It was rare for her to accept the invitation of another—physicality was exclusively for me when I needed it, not even including her own husband—and the sight of the interaction between the two was something that I liked very much.

When Craig turned around entirely, our eyes immediately connected. His fluid turn hadn’t left me enough time to conceal the numerous thoughts spinning throughout my head, and as he began to walk over, I was still stuck revolving around the idea of “the one”. It made me want to tell him that he should hug my mom more often, to come back to South Park a couple more times, and that Stan and Kyle needed to see that he wasn’t just an attractive asshole. That they didn’t know the same version of him that I did.

“Ready to go?” He asked, smirking down at me because of course everything was fine. He was right and my parents were now both charmed and reassured.

I nodded dumbly and got out of the booth. “I—uhm.” It was hard to look at him when he was everything that I wanted all the time. “We need to get my stuff—a-at my house.”

“Yes, we do,” he agreed, smiling wider. “Are you planning on doing that in your apron?”

“Huh?” I looked up at him and quickly down. My green Tweak Bros. apron was still tied to my chest. “Oh, uh.”

Before I could reach around to untie the knot with shaky fingers, Craig’s knuckles were grazing my back as he did it instead. I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling as he explained shortly, “Gotta keep up my gentlemanly appearance.”

“That’s a great job you’re doing. Are you going to carry me out of here, too?” I teased, grinning up at him when he made to slip the halter of the apron over my head.

“I could,” he agreed, shrugging nonchalantly. “But I don’t want to overdo it.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want to impress my parents too much.” Just as I took the apron from him, Thomas came over and took it from me.

He enveloped me in a hug to say goodbye, mouth pressed firmly against my ear. “He cares about you,” he whispered, tightening his hold. My heartbeat became heavy. “You should’ve heard what he was asking your parents. He wanted to know everything so that he could take care of you the way that you need.” To remain inconspicuous, the golden blonde pulled away, bumped our foreheads together, and kissed me lightly. “Have fun on Halloween, okay?”

Hopefully Craig missed his wink as he left to put the apron away.

Before we could make a safe exit, Stan had to remove himself from the booth and come over to stand before Craig. Kyle followed, though much less intrusive. I couldn’t help but notice that Stan was just a bit shorter than his raven haired opposite and thought to myself that Craig just seemed to be that much bigger than him in all aspects. My blush spread at the surprisingly vulgar thought.

“I definitely could’ve managed without seeing you again,” Craig said. “But small towns usually means you have to run into someone shitty, so that just fucking sucks for me.” And that was his goodbye.

Stan’s smile was pretty much forced, an uplift of his lips that I wasn’t sure I liked. “Actually,” he mused. “What do you think about having dinner with me and Kyle tonight?”

My stomach dropped because there was no way that he had just asked that.

“You know what?” Craig’s smirk was crooked, competing against Stan’s. “I have to check in on my parents anyway and it’s late enough as it is.” To me he suggested, “Why don’t we just head back to my place tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” I echoed. “But w-where are you going to stay?”

“Your house,” he answered simply.

Everything inside of my head exploded. I couldn’t get a grip on my fluttering pulse. This was too surreal for someone like me who couldn’t distinguish imaginary from reality. How was it possible that this was happening? This was what I wanted and out of nowhere here Craig was literally telling me how it would be.

“Okay,” I breathed, blinking up at him as though trying to disperse this airy, wondering feeling.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

Wed, 19 Dec 2012 14:00:00 -0500

Title: The Strange Attraction Syndrome - Chapter Thirty-nine
Pairing: Creek
Rating: M
Summary: Ten years is a long time to have an unrequited crush, but Tweek’s wait is just about over. So much for Craig being asexual.
Point of View: Stan

Stan’s point of view:

Tweek’s progressively gotten worse with the whole Craig thing.

Those four short years had been a blessing and Kenny just had to go and ruin it. It was one thing—however uncalled for—for Kenny to search and then take Tweek to see the apathetic bastard, to dangle the only person he’s ever wanted just outside of his reach. It was another for him to let Tweek’s infatuation grow, to expand, and that was where we were now. Everyone was inside of this expansion: some of us encouraging, some of us hesitant.

My issue in the matter wasn’t even with Tweek so much as it resided in Craig. No matter how little the blonde saw in himself, I knew that he had all of the potential any other person was able to harbor. But Craig—that guy just wasn’t capable of compassion to the degree that my friend would undoubtably need. Tweek was the type of person who leeched off of other’s emotions and Craig didn’t really have anything to absorb besides indifference and a steady stream of pure nothingness.

I could remember how badly the blonde had resembled a puppy throughout high school. Always staring forlornly at Craig Tucker in class, during lunch, after school, at pep rallies or assemblies or any occasion his crush happened to show up at. Always trying to please Craig Tucker by changing the wrong answers on his tests to the right ones, making excuses for him when he was late to class, hacking into his school attendance record to change his absences to excused because Tweek worked in the office, had good relationships with the teachers, and was trustworthy.

And Craig Tucker not once noticed any of Tweek’s displays of affection or endearment. Anything that he did was futile because Craig Tucker couldn’t seem to care for anyone who came after Clyde Donovan or Token Black.

It was for that reason that I didn’t believe he deserved someone as accommodating as Tweek. The blonde wasn’t the type to change who he was—Tweek was a permanent scrambled mess—but he’d fix the things he could to benefit someone else if at all possible. He’d cheat his way to make sure Craig graduated high school and he’d learn to accept the obliviousness that made up the majority of his presence in Craig’s life. If that was the best Tweek thought he could amount to, then it would suffice because he’s never been one to ask for much. He never asked for credit or recognition or gratitude. Craig hadn’t even been aware that he’d done anything, but he’d belittled Tweek, and belittlement wasn’t healthy to leech off of.

And then the day it came—the packing and the move and the “Fuck you South Park” as he stuck his middle fingers up into the air—had been one of the most reconstructive days of my life. I thought that Tweek would find a way to cling to somebody else. A cuter guy would come along and he would put Craig Tucker somewhere inside his memories because everyone has those first crushes that never quite went away but weren’t good enough to stay. It would be redemption because this time it would be Craig existing nowhere but in the background.

Instead, Tweek had become disconnected. He was emotionally compulsive to begin with, but without his compulsion to activate him, he’d turned emotionally retarded. It wasn’t like I didn’t understand where he was coming from presently. I knew now that when you got used to liking someone constantly that it was hard when suddenly they weren’t there. For that alone—for the experience of going through Kyle’s own disappearance—I had given Tweek’s crush some leeway, just enough to tug on when he felt particularly trodden. Just enough to keep me from telling him how useless this feeling toward Craig was when he was upset and lonely.

That’s when somehow this happened. This return visit from Craig and this rush of emotional stimulation and this loss of Tweek around South Park because every couple of weeks he was somewhere in Lakewood. I never knew what to expect when I saw Tweek next. If he’d cry, if he’d be overbearingly happy, if he’d excuse himself to go outside and talk on the phone forhours. He’d literally sit out in the grass of his backyard or the stairway of my apartment or another room entirely and converse about things I never even thought were on his mind. Craig made him laugh about everything, would get him to debate topics nobody thought he had an opinion on. He’d started wearing a smile I’ve never seen before and asked which of his clothes looked the best on him, wondered how unattractive his medication intake was and how that effected his chances with Craig.

“Tweek, honey.” The blonde raised his weary eyes. He was sitting across from me and Kyle, fretting not so much over Craig’s undetermined time of arrival but because of us. Craig would not only need his parents’ permission but ours. He looked to where his mother was, rustling around behind the counter while his dad assumed a station at the register. “How soon will your boyfriend be here?”

His eyes balked at her loose use of the term “boyfriend.” It was clear that he wasn’t although it seemed that his mom and dad considered him otherwise. Kyle shared brief eye contact with me, silently acknowledging his mom’s inaccurate inquiry and Tweek’s startled reaction.

“I don’t know,” he grunted. For an honest second I didn’t think he was going to fix her mistake, and if he wasn’t, then I would. But then he added, “And he’s not my boyfriend.” He was too quiet for the statement to make an impact, and I really wished he would’ve kept his mouth shut so that I could have said more factually that the two had no such connection. That was only what he longed to call Craig. Desperately, so. It was a very obvious desire.

Tweek’s mood had been detrimental all morning as though he’d woken up deteriorated and was just skeletal now. He’d been cleaning the coffeehouse sporadically and in increasing increments the longer it took Craig to show. It’d started with the windows which were practically nonexistent at the moment. Tweek got excited over crumbs and askew chairs, stray napkins or just washing his hands. The jitters he had were noticeable and his eyes became estrange in their size every time the bell above the door chimed.

Intuitively picking up on the meaning of my and Kyle’s eye contact, he frowned and narrowed a glare at the two of us. “Why are you guys even here? Both of my parents are and theyneverwork the same shift, dude! Craig d-doesn’t want to see you and I don’t want to put him in a bad mood. I don’t even know where Thomas is.” Scouring the Welcome to South Park sign for a crowning glimpse of huge doucher—that of which was absolutely true. He’d been missing for a while, definitely stalking the only road that led into our town.

“Well, you’ve just about made him out to be the biggest sweetheart so I have to see what’s changed.”

My reply came just as Kyle said, “Think of us as your same-sex parents.”

The blonde’s scowl was at maximum output. He wrung a washcloth between his hands, and for an eery moment, I envisioned us in an alternate universe where that same jerky motion was being enacted on my neck. “It’s not like he’s going to be a sweetheart to you,” Tweek muttered.

“You’re right. I want him to grovel.”

“No,” Kyle interjected. “You both just need to calm down.”

But I was his fiancé and that meant that I could take loopholes to skirt around wherever his directive lay.

Apparently, so could Tweek. “Just don’t say anything embarrassing!” He snapped frustratedly. “Don’t make any s-smartass comments because you do it to me all the time and it’s one thing when it is me but Craig’s going to be freaked out enough just by being here s-so don’t try to piss him off. Okay? Promise me you won’t do anything like that.”

His little pinky jut out, short nail sculpted and contrasting gravely to the slight tremble of his hand. It was the protection that he bundled Craig inside of that kept its own against his prominent anxiety that I returned his gesture by interlocking our smallest fingers and promising that I would do no such thing although I didn’t exactly understand what he meant. I wasn’t the smartass type.

As though my thoughts had been deciphered, Kyle turned to give me a look of warning. My finger tightened around Tweek’s as my evasiveness shriveled. Maybe I could be a smartass sometimes.

From my peripheral vision, movement caught my eye. I’d strategically placed myself at a booth facing the front windows so that when Craig eventually entered, I would know and be able to reconfigure my features into something like a threatening stare. Today had been rather slow for business, each person that moseyed along effectively capturing my attention, although despite the shortage, there had been enough people to discourage me after a couple hours of waiting.

So when his recognizable figure came wandering down the sidewalk with one exuberant Thomas draped across his shoulders like a cape, I accidentally threw on something like surprise instead. He might’ve finally revealed himself and I might’ve prepared for this moment for days, but this appearance was not what I was expecting. The look on Craig’s face was too guarded, uncharacteristically distracted by his surroundings, not disinterested like he should’ve been because Tweek was right: returning home had sketched him out.

My line of sight and expression was interpreted by Tweek. His jaw dropped and he swiveled around just as the bell that had been teasing him all day signaled the correct arrival of the man we’d all been waiting for. He choked at what he saw—at what I thought was Thomas slung across Craig’s back—and darted his eyes around the shop to search for his parents. When they weren’t spotted, he stumbled out of his seat and lunged.

I didn’t blame the poor blonde. Craig Tucker was a one good looking dude. Kyle even leaned over to whisper in my ear, “Stan? Why do I suddenly wish I was Thomas?” I pinched the bridge of my nose because this was not the asshole that I remembered, just physically speaking of course. His hair might’ve had a mussed fashion that framed and highlighted his facial features, almost quiff-like in its appearance where it’d once been so lengthy. He might’ve grown in height, a few inches that had done quite beautiful things to his body. That grin he wore might’ve made my jealousy combust and his eyes—those goddamn eyes.

But there was nothing to disguise his smug attitude or the conceited stature of his lanky figure. His egotism couldn’t be downplayed by the curl of his shapely lips. The nonchalant aura encasing him wasn’t appealing to me and the spark of amusement flickering wildly in the backs of his eyes upon seeing Tweek made me nothing but wary. It was a look that he was proud of, something that said a certain blonde was going to be a lot of fun from now on. A protective instinct of mine jolted and I knew that Tweek hadn’t kept his secret as close to him as he should’ve. Craig had figured out the dead-honest truth.

“Are you fucking serious?” Tweek hissed, chastising the man on his shirt and not Thomas. “Kenny said you were good with parents!” His fingers fumbled with the two sides of Craig’s undone flannel, but he’d never been good with buttons and began to put it together all wrong.

“Tweek.” But the blonde wasn’t listening. He was grumbling beneath his breath and straightening out Craig’s shirt and bypassing the things on the man’s face that made me very uncomfortable. “Stop that.” Craig snatched his hands away.

The blonde glowered up at him, clasped hands drawn against his sides. “What were you thinking? You can’t come in with your shirt like that!”

Craig ignored him and commanded, “Welcome me home otherwise I’m going to leave and come back in naked.”

“What—” Tweek got a good look in and noticed the slightly dazed expression in the eyes of his crush, inferred that his own assumptions were right. “Craig,” he murmured and smiled softly to pity the man. It made my stomach roil, the way I knew that Craig was going to kiss him because I was experienced in the suggestive look he wore well. It was the one I used on Kyle, the one that lured him in. “Welcome home.”

It was a curious thing watching their exchange. They hadn’t even been acquaintances for the longest time and now suddenly Tweek was chastising him, was letting Craig kiss him as though he already knew his secret was out of the box and there was nothing left to hide. Tweek barely reached Craig’s shoulders and I couldn’t keep from noticing that they looked rather nice together. They were opposites: tall and short, black and blonde, certain and unsure.

“Don’t freak out,” Craig said. He straightened out and grinned shamelessly down at my unfortunate friend. “But your parents just saw me kiss you.”

Tweek must’ve gone literally numb because all he said was, “Oh.” And then a torrent: “Okay. Okay, that’s fine. I-It’s cool. I can work with that.” But his voice was a hurried whisper and I could no longer hear him but he was continuing to speak directly to Craig, probably giving him a list of fast instructions.

“Dude.” The blonde blinked owlishly up at his crush who bonked their foreheads together. “Keep your bones together.” He pinpointed a careless gaze at Kyle and I, the same one I hadn’t felt on me in four years yet it was still so familiar, and sent Tweek wobbling toward his parents.

He moseyed over just as Thomas climbed into a neighboring booth so he could lean his upper half into ours. “Craig,” I greeted, fighting my tongue to keep from spewing his name.

“Marsh.” Distaste was evident in his tone.

Good, that meant we were on the same page.

He sat down and leaned back, cracking his neck one direction and then the next, a cocky smirk on his lips. His vivid eyes shifted between me and Kyle before settling firmly on my own. “I heard you’re getting married. Congratulations.”

Kyle scoffed. “That took a lot out of you, didn’t it?” Unabashedly, he nodded in affirmation. The redhead’s mouth twitched. “How much begging did Tweek have to do to get that out of you?”

“I could make this sexual” —my eyes flared and my fists clenched— “but I don’t think you want me to get sexual about Tweek,” he finished, grinning maliciously. “I’m actually a very reasonable person.”

“You’re still a fucking asshole,” I growled.

“Really?” He laughed this gravely sounding laughter that I was positive affected Tweek much differently than it was doing to me. “I’m taking Tweek off your hands. You should be calling me considerate.”

When I leaned forward and put my elbows on the table, Craig’s jaw tightened at my threatening posture. “Tweek isn’t an issue that I need you to take care of.”

A seriousness made his eyes look colder as he met me halfway, menacing when he stopped a short distance from my face. “You’d love for me to mess this up, wouldn’t you?”

Ignoring his ploy, I informed him of the only choice he had in this situation. “You do not hurt him.”

“I know he’s still just a baby,” Craig said. And of course he was right because Tweek would always be young, naive, and impressionable. “I know how to take care of him.” Looking me dead in the eye, he also very slowly said—though I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a threat or a promise—”And I know you don’t want to, but you’re going to trust me with him.”

The tightness within the walls of my throat relaxed as I investigated the assertion of his steady stare. This wasn’t a short notice decision off the top of his head just to spite me. He’d debated and considered and chosen this for himself. Tweek had an importance to him that I would probably never know. And Craig Tucker wasn’t the type to lie. He didn’t waver and he didn’t misuse what was close to him. I don’t even think he realized how badly he wanted to be responsible for Tweek and I wondered if this had anything to do with his guinea pig. If he needed to take care one thing at all times just to be content.

And it occurred to me then that that was exactly what was going to happen. Tweek was his.

There was something innocently endearing about that.

CHAPTER FORTY

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

Wed, 19 Dec 2012 14:00:00 -0500

Title: The Strange Attraction Syndrome - Chapter Thirty-eight
Pairing: Creek
Rating: M
Summary: Ten years is a long time to have an unrequited crush, but Tweek’s wait is just about over. So much for Craig being asexual.
Point of View: Pretty Lady

Pretty Lady’s point of view:

Craig has been getting rather inventive with his talent lately. My big, idiot brute of a roommate. He was learning so slowly but things would pick up soon. I could see it in his art.

Once he had discovered that Tweek was crushing on him, the transition began. Where he’d been very literal and realistic before, he was becoming obscure and interpretive now. He was more about the underlying meaning of his creations and I think that was because Tweek had kept his hidden for so long. How it had remained hidden, nobody had any idea. It was hard to blame Craig, though, when he was clearly so very excited about this “epiphany” or so he called it.

Nature was his interest currently and he liked to paint trees with leaves the color of Tweek’s hair. He drew hands that could only be Tweek’s pushing up through dirt, as small as the sprigs of grass surrounding them and embellished with drops of dew. Little birds in nests uncharacteristically soft turned out to be resting on Tweek’s blonde mop of unruly locks. One night he’d presented us with a portrayal of Tweek stuck inside of a pill capsule.

“When Tweek called, he left this with me.” Clyde held up Craig’s sketchbook which was reaching the last of its blank pages. On it was a detailed depiction of Clyde getting attacked by a flock of crows and yellow canaries. The canaries had Tweek’s hair and the crows had quiffs. “If you look closely, there’s blood on their beaks. I think it’s time that he see a doctor,” my boyfriend—as equally retarded as his best friend—said.

I sighed and took the book from him. “It’s supposed to be open to interpretation.” Flipping through it, I saw new versions of Tweek and nature combined into the same body as though he were some kind of fairy or nymph. “Maybe he’s just hurt by how discouraging you’ve been and wanted to let you know.”

“Totally,” Clyde scoffed. “Because he was the most inspirational best friend when I first tried hooking up with you.”

“Yeah. Hooking up, asshole.” I shoved his shoulder and it bounced off the back of the couch. “You straight up said to Craig: ‘She’s convenient, dude.’ All you wanted to do was have sex with me.”

He rolled his eyes and swooshed his hand around. “It’s not my fault we got a roommate with nice tits. I didn’t think stuff like that actually happened.” Stuff like holding out and just being roommates for a time before anything happened.

“Craigslist can do that,” I mused, grinning because I had nice tits.

It made no sense when he frowned at me. At least until he grumbled, “Speaking of Craig.”

My body deflated and I fell back against Token’s legs which were pulled up onto the couch. We made eye contact as my head lolled to the side. I made a noise of exasperation because Clyde was being the moodiest brat. He was upset that his best friend’s attention had been drawn away from him, but Token was Craig’s best friend too, and it wasn’t like he was complaining.

“You need to let this go,” I told him. “Craig is so excited about this, Clyde. He’s interpreting it as something completely different, but he’s infatuated.” There wasn’t a single molecule that existed inside of Craig that believed he had affectionate feelings for Tweek. That introverted man might’ve known that the blonde had intense feelings for him, but he was hopeless when it came to himself. He thought he found it funny when all he really thought was Yeah, I like you too. Another epiphany would be needed for that, though.

That phone of his—it was certainly a baby maker if there ever was one. Had Tweek been a woman, that is. Neither of them could stop talking to each other and Craig was always psyched to give the blonde a call. Tweek’s work and school schedule had been memorized and Craig had made it a point to let us know that even when the blonde was busy, Tweek would still try to figure out a way to keep their call going. Doing that certainly hadn’t impaired Craig’s ego, and I almost felt bad because Tweek was unknowingly egging on his conceited crush.

Clyde mumbled something incoherent beneath his breath about all of the faggots in the world. I’d had a talk with him about saying that in front of Tweek to which he’d then thought up every other possible derogatory name he could. Ones like fruit cup, marshmallow, gay fuck, and his most creative name to date: butthole that eats dick. He disliked the blonde so much, had felt like such even before he and Craig had become a thing. I didn’t quite understand why he treated Tweek the way he did, and it wasn’t based on being from South Park, because Kenny hailed from the same town and yet that blonde was at least tolerable. Clyde’s attitude made me sad.

With my eyes, I pleaded silently for Token to send in reinforcements. He blinked once, considering the backlash Clyde would inevitably give. If ever he was opposed, he threw a temper tantrum like no other. After pursing his lips, Token sighed resignedly and opened his mouth to speak. “What?” The brunette snapped, eyes darting threateningly between Token and I. “You both love Tweek. I fucking get it. Stop conspiring against me.”

“I do love, Tweek. I love Tweek for Craig,” Token said. Yes, my thoughts purred. Justice. “There’s practically no chance that Craig will ever get hurt because Tweek isn’t capable of doing that to him.” Clyde indignantly turned his head away from his best friend’s words, but Token continued anyways. “Craig got a real late start with the whole relationship thing while the rest of us already experienced that. We’ve been through terrible girlfriends and know what to expect. Craig doesn’t have a clue. You know that, Clyde. So let him have the one that won’t ruin him because I’d really rather not see him with one that will.”

Backlash for everyone except his best friends, it would seem, because Clyde said nothing. He clenched his jaw and nestled his cheek against a pillow, just staring at the dark television screen while we listened to Craig laugh about something from inside his room. I’d noticed that he was laughing, not a sardonic chuckle or snicker when Clyde accidentally stubbed his toe, but actually expelled genuine laughter a lot more than usual. “Clyde,” I murmured. His eyes shifted. “How long have you known?” I was referring to Tweek’s crush.

He looked away. “Everyone has always known,” was the only thing he said.

We all heard Craig’s door open and gave each other quick glances before looking over our shoulders to stare at the mouth of the hallway. When Craig appeared, he saw our trained eyes and stopped to stare back at us. He had his phone against his ear and said, “I’m being watched.” Tweek must not have liked the sound of that. “I mean by my friends, not the government.”

Token and Clyde grew disinterested—they must’ve heard that one before—while I continued to watch. Craig wandered over to the fridge and pulled out a soda before turning around and walking over to the couch. He stepped onto it despite Clyde’s protests and sat down.

“Can you repeat everything you just said?” He asked, pressing a button on his phone and setting it down in front of him. Using his free hands, he opened his soda.

“I said the government can’t—Sweet Jesus, I can’t believe you’re making me say this again—what if they’re listening?” Tweek cried, most likely unaware that he was on speaker phone. “They’ve got it out for us! Haven’t you ever read 1984? George Orwell? I’m all about government conspiracies, dude.”

Craig grinned when my brows rose curiously. Leaning toward Token, I whispered so as not to alert Tweek of our eavesdropping and asked, “The government?”

“It’s—” He began.

“Classic Tweek Tweak,” Craig finished, able to simultaneously speak to both the blonde and me.

Hushedly, Token agreed. “That explains it.”

The blonde on the other line made a noise of outrage. “Classic Tweek Tweak?” He cried.

In what must’ve been a small fit of excitement—for he lifted his finger as if to say “Listen to this”—Craig completely ignored him and said instead, “Guess what.”

For a second the blonde was silent. Craig had been so offhand that I don’t think he was sure how to react. Then he asked, “What?”

The expression on Craig’s face was smug. Whatever was going to come out of his mouth had a very determined purpose. “I was looking in the mirror today and I realized that I am just one ugly dude.”

Tweek responded quickly. “No, you’re not.” It sounded as though he’d hissed immediately after, regretting his hasty remark, which was probably wise because Craig had an insatiable grin.

“You don’t think I have an ugly mug?”

This time the blonde’s answer came more hesitantly. “No, I…I wouldn’t say that you do.”

“That’s good.” Craig was pleased. “Neither do you. I’m actually quite fascinated by you.”

A smirk wound through his lips as he listened to Tweek sputter in response. “I—that—uh…really?” It was apparent just how flattered he was by his fragile, airy tone of voice.

“Do you believe me?” Craig asked, placing his phone on his knee as he sat back comfortably, arms bent behind his head. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and I was half tempted to take a picture and send it to Tweek just to fluster him further.

To redeem himself, Tweek pulled quite a risky tactic and disregarded Craig’s question. “Maybe.” The niorette couldn’t be bothered with evasions. He was straight-forward and precise. So when all Tweek said was “I heard that you like to draw me,” I found myself surprised that he wasn’t prodded at for a more satisfactory answer.

“Yeah, there’s a lot.” It was a difficult task for Craig to dredge of any kind of shame.

“Don’t lie,” Tweek laughed.

After taking a sip of soda, Craig said, “I’m being dead serious.”

“Oh.” The blonde wasn’t taking the confession very seriously, though. He wanted to be sarcastic instead. “Are there any naughty ones?”

He would soon regret making such a joke because Craig’s answer was, “Just a few.”

Tweek’s abrupt silence made the atmosphere thick was amusement. The only one who wasn’t feeling any entertainment was Clyde who grimaced and glared at the phone. Token’s enjoyment was enough to make up for my boyfriend’s foul mood, though. Maybe I should break up with one and just switch to the other.

“So what are you doing?” The blonde hurriedly asked, switching subjects for reasons that were obvious.

“Was that a diversion?” This poor kid was never going to get a break.

“No!” Except it was. “I-I’m actually very curious. About what you’re doing. Yeah.”

“I’m talking to some gay kid,” Craig blatantly replied, staring up at the ceiling. He inhaled deeply, torso jutting out. A stretch was coming, and the wide berth of his ribcage expanded as he arched with the instinct. His biceps flexed, tightening involuntarily. It was interesting to look at these aspects of Craig and know that Tweek thought of them as pleasant.

Even when we first met, I’d never been interested although it’d been clear to me that Craig was an astoundingly attractive man. His beauty was the vicious kind, coupled with his blunt personality. The two were compatible with each other and created an ominous appeal. He was constantly assumed to be the type of guy who only accepted the invitation of those who were self-assured. Sometimes it happened when we went out and more often than that it happened at parties, but he would attract the attention of women who were detrimental to boys.

Craig was no regular boy, though—didn’t know how to succumb to the hurt a girl like that could put him through—but the fact remained that the only people who thought they could present themselves to him were stupid girls. He might’ve been all striking eyes and pretty lips, but there was a very inverted charm beneath those features. One that no one could see because they didn’t think it existed. Craig would beckon less petty people if he softened the intensity of what was already there, not that he’d be interested in them either. I think it took a lot of inspection to find, and one would need to search for a while before happening across it. These delicate aspects of him, they were disarming once noticeable.

It was his laughter when he shared an inside joke with his best friends and the glassy, fragile look in his eyes when he spent time with the dogs. It was his content expression every time he returned from visiting Stripe and the deep sarcasm covering up all of that sweet brother stuff in his voice whenever his sister called. And now there was Tweek: the boy who Craig would get slightly unfocused smiles for. In moments like those, I could tell how great his feelings were. But then his lips would turn up egotistically, and he would never realize his feelings if he remained as conceited as he tended to be.

I’d always known that he was in an impossible league far beyond that of normalcy. Just by looking at him I could tell that he was disconnected from intimacy, and not once had he ever looked at anyone in anything that was remotely even close to interested. Clyde and Token never pushed it and I had learned to never question it. I guessed that was what patience was, though. Because of course Tweek would come along and make Craig question it himself.

“Wow,” Tweek muttered. “You can be so charismatic sometimes. So dreamy.”

Craig cracked up laughing because Tweek had been telling the truth. To the blonde, he was literally the dreamiest man alive.

Oh, their interactions made me the happiest girl.

The sound of a muffled yawn quieted Craig’s laughter down. “Are you tried?” He asked, sniggering still.

“Just a little.”

“Are you laying in bed?” His sardonic smirk proved that Craig was going somewhere with this.

“No,” the blonde snorted. “I’m sitting in the pots and pans cabinet.”

“That’s actually believable if you think about it—”

Tweek interjected, snapping, “Of course I’m in bed.”

“What are you wearing?” Craig quirked his brows at us. Clyde rolled his head and grumbled, sinking further into the couch. I reached out and punched him in the thigh for being uncooperative.

“Nothing!” The blonde cursed himself and added, “Not nothing nothing—just nothing important, y-you know?”

Actually, Craig didn’t know. I often walked into his room to wake him up for work and found him passed out naked in his bed, sometimes on his stomach and sometimes on his back. His butt had the most adorable dimples, and his dick was quite remarkable. Tweek was going to be a very satisfied young man one day.

Craig bent down to lean over his phone. “I sleep commando.”

In my head, I could see Tweek’s mouth working but no words escaping. It took him a second, one clear pause that had me biting down on a giggle. All of us were still incognito and I didn’t want to be the one to ruin it. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” he finally managed to force out.

His denial was adorable and Craig thought so, too. “I can assure you that I’m not,” he promised.

“W-Well that’s nice,” Tweek squeaked.

There was one of those unfocused smiles on Craig’s lips. After a moment, he recalled, “You never told me what you were wearing.”

“Clothes, Craig. I’m w-wearing clothes.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

Wed, 19 Dec 2012 13:58:00 -0500

Title: The Strange Attraction Syndrome - Chapter Thirty-seven
Pairing: Creek
Rating: M
Summary: Ten years is a long time to have an unrequited crush, but Tweek’s wait is just about over. So much for Craig being asexual.
Point of View: Tweek

I like the sound of a birdsong
That can make me feel so fine, so fine.

—Lena Meyer Landrut, I Like to Bang My Head

Tweek’s point of view:

My phone quickly transformed into my most cherished possession.

For about a week since returning home I’d wanted to shoot myself. Craig hadn’t been sending any letters and I hadn’t had the courage to send one first. My mood ended up reflecting in my work, both at the coffeehouse and at school. To be honest, I don’t think anybody even wanted to hang out with me during that time. I’d been such a bummer that I didn’t even blame them.

That’s when a remarkable thing called Craig Tucker got my number happened. I’d known instantly that I had Clyde’s girlfriend to thank and I would barrage her with appreciation the next time I saw her because all of a sudden my entire week of pity seemed meaningless, every day since then has been wonderful, and I’ve just always wanted to be able to say: “Yeah, I’ve got Craig Tucker’s number.” Even though I’ve only said it to myself in my head, it was good enough for me.

We talked all the time. Hours at a time. Those were my favorite parts of the day—every day—and even though they happened regularly, I never got over them. Each call was like a shot of adrenaline. When we were on the phone together I did my homework or cleaned the house or washed the dishes in the coffeehouse. I could restock, sweep, and make dinner far more efficiently than I did with only my own thoughts to talk to. Craig made me want to do something with my time that didn’t have to do with counting pills or visiting Dr. Norris for my scheduled appointments.

And I was smart about it. I waited for him to call me—never the other way around. Every time he called I felt satisfaction and thought That’s right, because for once I got to be the one who felt superior. Craig wouldn’t call unless he wanted to talk to me, and he called a lot. It made me feel good about myself. Someone wanted to talk to me on a regular basis. I was worthtalking to on a regular basis. The best part though was that it was Craig. He gave me hours of his time every day because he wanted to and because I was worth it to him. Our phone calls made me happy in ways I hadn’t known existed. It was a simple happy, an easy happy.

I was napping when my phone buzzed, its little body located at the small of my back from when I’d flipped over. A smile touched my lips and I buried my face into my pillows, a feeling in my chest that was both constricting and expanding. My arm bent around, wrist twisting to find it. Once I had it I brought it to my ear and murmured, “Hello?”

If it turned out to be Thomas, I was going to be pissed. Once before that had happened, an instance where I had been so sure it was Craig purely based on being used to him calling often. I’ve never been so disappointed.

“Aye,” Craig drawled. I bit my lip, adoring the deep rumble of his voice over the phone.

“Hi.” I wondered if my happiness came across in my tone the way I could tell that his was gruff.

He chuckled, and for a second I was terrified that it was true, that he knew how happy just a phone call from him could make me, but then he asked, “Did I wake you up?”

“Yeah,” I confessed. “But it’s okay. I was just taking a nap.”

While Craig responded, I opened my jaws and yawned. “Oh? How was it without me?”

My cheeks blossomed, but this was behavior I was used to from him. He liked to remind me that things were always better when he was there to do it with me like sleeping and eating and pretty much everything else. Whenever it could be questioned, he made sure to do it. I had a bad dream last night—Oh, how was it without me? I just went out to eat with Thomas—Oh, how was it without me?

“Awful,” I exaggerated. “Your absence was all I could think about.”

Flirting with Craig—I wouldn’t say it was something I was used to—but rather it was something that I looked forward to because I knew that it would happen regardless. The level of comfort I felt with him made me bold enough to do so.

“Well that’s just terrible,” he concluded. The smile on my lips stretched wider. “I think I might have to do something to fix that.”

“And what would that be?” I closed my eyes and continued to rest, lulled by his voice and content with just listening.

Momentarily he hummed before saying, “Clyde’s throwing a party for Halloween. Everyone’s getting dressed up and they’re going to wreck the apartment so you should come back so you’ll be here for it because I want you to go.”

“A party?” Parties meant beer and alcohol and drugs and horrible judgement and regrets and mistakes and sometimes the cops and a vicinity full of people I couldn’t trust. I could remember stories from high school about those particular parties, specifically ones centered around this exact trio of best friends. Clyde had a tendency to turn into a party animal, Token was known for capturing every vital moment, and Craig was that heinous part of your conscious that suggested you do bad things. He was the person that gave out ideas that eventually led to the cops. He was the one who turned a person into “that” drunk. And that was just high school.

“Booze, people, sex in whatever bedroom happens to be open.” His description made me uneasy for multiple reasons. One was due to my basic paranoia regarding parties in general because these were unfamiliar people in an unfamiliar town, but another was my own unfamiliar persona when I wasn’t sober. What if I admitted everything to Craig? It was a terrifying question and the last thing I wanted to do was find out what would happen if I did.

“I—I don’t know.” Unfamiliarity wasn’t the only reason keeping me from accepting his invitation. “I mean, I want to! I do want to. But people in costumes, they make me anxious.”

Craig scoffed, offended. “You don’t think I can protect you? I’m as macho as they come, little man.”

“Little man?” I cried. “I’m not little anymore! I’ve grown so much.” Five foot six was a radical growth from how tall I used to be. “Do you really not think so?”

“No. I don’t think so.” He was laughing at me on the other line.

I sat up, perturbed. “Seriously?”

He snorted as though making fun of me for asking. “Do you even shave?”

That was quite the question. I opened my mouth to retort before closing it just as quickly, deflating against my bed. “No.”

“Ah, I see. You’re still just a baby,” Craig cooed. “I will call you peach fuzz.” What kind of nickname was that? Hopefully he knew that I was pouting. “It’d be illegal anyways. You don’t have to come.”

“N-No!” I wanted to see him again. If I had to get through a costume party full of drunks then I would. “I’ll come. I want to go.”

“I knew you did.” When I made a snarky comment about how Oh, he was all-seeing wasn’t he? he agreed and said, “Fuck yeah I am. You wouldn’t believe some of the shit I’ve dug up on people.”

Well I sure hope you never dig up any of mine. ”Just let me ask Kenny. We’ve never spent Halloween somewhere else before but I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“Does he absolutely have to come?”

Craig’s question flattered me, and I paused entirely just to process it. I’d just assumed that the invitation included Kenny as well, but was it just me that he wanted? Not that he wanted me. In that sense. I shook my head to clear my various thoughts and asked, “Who else is going to protect me incase you’re not macho enough?”

“You want Kenny as your backup? You do know he’d rather fuck you than protect you, right?” Before I could say anything, he added, “You don’t want to lose your virginity to him.”

You’re right. I want to lose it to you. ”How else am I going to get down there?”

“Can’t you drive?” He asked me so honestly that I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you kidding me? I don’t even have my permit. I’m the apocalypse when I get behind the wheel.”

Despite insulting myself, I felt pretty damn good when Craig humored me. “Then I can come—”

“No you’re not,” I said, finalizing any argument. He was silent after my interjection. “I’m not going to be a burden like that.”

Whatever he said next was left unheard, because in that moment, Thomas barged into my room. It was so unexpected that I shrieked and knocked my head against the wall, cursing violently into my phone before directing the rest toward my best friend who’d begun laughing. I twisted around on my bed until my feet touched the floor. Hunched over, the golden blonde didn’t even realize it when I ran into him, tackling him into my door where it slammed shut with a repercussive thud.

He grabbed me from around the waist and hoisted me into the air. I slammed my elbow into his shoulder but he refused to relent, tossing me onto my bed where I nearly bounced back into the wall again. A warning started in my throat, abruptly cut off when he lunged and landed on top of me. The air left my lungs and I had to gasp for it to return, shoving at Thomas hard enough that he rolled onto his stomach beside me.

Craig’s voice returned to my ear. “Did you just die?”

“Not quite,” I breathed. “Thomas just threw me across the room.”

“Is that Craig?” I waved for the golden blonde to shut his mouth.

“Dude, I need to teach you how to defend yourself. You never know when Kenny’ll snap and take advantage of you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Like he hasn’t tried already.”

“Yeah, I heard.” Oh really? Maybe it was best if Kenny didn’t go to Craig’s. I couldn’t keep track of what left his mouth. Or went in it. “You’re prude even when you’re drunk.”

“Well, I’m glad he put in a g-good word for me,” I grumbled.

Thomas scooted closer, our sides pressed together tight. He leaned in close to hear the whole conversation. “That was supposed to be a good word?”

A scowl found my face. “Hey.” I imagined him feigning interest by listening mock-earnestly. “Virgins are rare and few. People love virgins.”

“Hmm. You’re right. I did pick you over Kenny because of your purity.”

“Yeah, you did. That was your most charming moment.” Thomas pulled back with a look of surprise expanding across his features. He hasn’t witnessed me flirt—ever. I blushed and turned away, taking my conversation elsewhere.

“You like that?” There was a husky note on the edge of Craig’s voice. “Do you want me to say it again?”

“Oh God,” I laughed. “Yeah, say it again.”

“No, you have be like: Oh baby, say it one more time.” He even put emphasis on the “oh baby”.

My hand reached up to cover the side of my face as my laughter turned to giggles. “Are you serious? I don’t want to say that.”

He sighed dramatically. “Jesus Christ, dude. I’m going to have to teach you how to dirty talk too?”

“What?” Thomas stuck his ear against the other side of the phone at my incredulous cry. “I—I don’t want to learn how to do that!”

“Too late. It’s already happening. The next time you come over we’re going to wrestle and talk dirty to each other.”

Thomas gave me a thumbs up, mortifying me. “No, I don’t think w-we should do that.”

“What did I just tell you, dude? There’s no changing my mind. I’m going to show you how to seduce a man.”

“How the hell did we go from dirty talking to seducing?” At my wonderment, Thomas hooted and pelvic thrust against me. “I don’t even have anyone to seduce.”

“Sure you do,” he chuckled condescendingly. “Whatever happened to your cockblock crush? Don’t you want to seduce him?”

Fuck yeah I want to seduce you all over the place, Craig Tucker. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do to you. But instead I managed to squeak out, “Oh. No—no. That’s n-not really necessary a-at all really.”

Craig made an amused sort of noise. “Actually, I think it is. We need to get you some ass, Tweek.” My breath caught because it was his ass that I wanted. “I’m going to refine your skills and then you’re going to find this asshole of a crush and tease the fucking shit out of him, alright?” All I could do was babble incoherently, unsure if I should be excited or scared out of my mind. “So what’s Thomas doing over?”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and croaked, “We’re going out to eat.”

“Ah,” he mused. “I wonder how fun it’ll be without me.”

To distract myself from our previous topic of conversation so bluntly dismissed, I watched Thomas pull some shoes out of my closet. Now would be the opportune moment to get the fuck off the phone so I could breathe. “Y-Yeah. I—uhm—s-should probably go.”

“Okay.” His voice was nothing but a mutter. It was impossible to keep the corners of my lips from shifting upward. Saying bye definitely wasn’t his favorite thing to do and I couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with me or if he just liked talking on the phone. “Can I call you later, peach fuzz?”

“Don’t call me that,” I scolded. “But yeah, call me later.”

“Okay, Tweek Tweak.” My chest expelled its weird contraction-expansion feeling. To keep it contained, I curled in on myself.

It took a lot for me to admit it—perhaps my rationality was misguided because of this uncontrollable feeling—when I told him, “I like the way you say my name. It sounds like a bird chirp.”

His grin was noticeable through his voice. “I’ll call you later then. Eat something good.”

And then he hung up.

All I wanted to do was ram my head through the wall. Instead, I turned my phone off and pushed it over the side of my bed so that I wouldn’t be tempted to gawk at it and all of the conversations its put me through.

“I swear he is the only man for you,” Thomas said, grabbing one of my ankles so he could put my foot into my shoe. I clenched my hands until my knuckles went white just hearing that.

“You know how there’s a difference between regularity and compulsion?” Regularity was nothing to be thought of. Regularity happened and it was natural. Compulsions spun around my head and threaded through every crevice until just the thought of any certain thing in particular made me feel the need to do something. Something to counter or correspond and Craig Tucker made me want to do many somethings. Like dirty talk and seduce and tease and anything else he might’ve had in mind. “He is definitely a compulsion, Thomas.”

There were specific things that I constantly sought. When I was out in public, anxious with all of those people around me, I wanted only to go home. When my paranoia surfaces, dousing me with its irrationality, I wanted only my medication. But when I was without Craig, stuck in South Park and unsure of when the next time I’d see him would be, I wanted only to see him because that’s when my brain would finally quiet down.

“I can tell.” Thomas straightened out and walked toward my door, opening it and stepping out. I reached over the side of my bed to retrieve my phone before rolling off to follow the golden blonde. “But what’s this about wrestling and dirty talk?”

“Supposedly I need to learn how to defend myself and because I wouldn’t say ‘oh baby, say it one more time’ I guess I need a lesson on how to dirty talk too.”

As we started down the stairs, Thomas said, “Yeah, man. If you can’t say that then you need some—fuck—help. I can give you a few pointers so that you can surprise him. You can show him how eager you are to be his student.”

“We’re not roleplaying, dude. There’s no teacher-student game going on.”

“Fine then. No fun for you.” He shrugged nonchalantly, leading us into the kitchen. Neither of us noticed my mom as he said, “Just make sure to tell him that you want him to rip off all your clothes. And to push you against the wall. I think you’d be into a little bit of that. Like you’re so shy and soft-spoken but inside you want to be roughed up. That’s where the wrestling comes in, let me tell you.”

There was a clank from sink as she accidentally knocked a piece of silverware into it. My lungs tightened at her presence. She wasn’t supposed to be home. Her and my dad were only ever at the coffeehouse when I wasn’t. Why the hell was she here? “Oh my God.” I grabbed Thomas by the arm and hauled him toward the front door, hurriedly trying to evacuate the house and take my best friend’s sexual comment with us.

Outside, Thomas harshly whispered, “She wasn’t there earlier. I can’t believe I said that in front of her.”

“Fuck that, man! I can’t believe you said that about me in front of her!”

He walked with a guilty stride toward Kenny’s truck parked in the driveway. I followed and got in first because the middle was always my seat, ignoring the other blonde as he asked what was wrong. “I told him to tell Craig to rip his clothes off and push him against the wall. His mom was standing right there,” Thomas confessed.

Kenny cracked up laughing, further aggravating me. “That’s priceless, Tweekers. Stop being a baby about it.”

My glare was narrowed directly at his face. “My parents already think I’m a slut. Now they’re going to think I’m a kinky slut.” Pulling out of the driveway, Kenny started down the street, his trunk a lumbering chunk of metal. “They want me to get tested. Again.”

Once before I’d been tested but the difference was that it’d been my own choice even though I was as virgin as a virgin could get. I’d just had to make sure otherwise my paranoia was going to diagnose me with crabs, genital herpes, chlamydia or any other possible STD. This time is was my mom and dad’s decision because they believed I was going to Lakewood for what was probably multiple men when in reality it was only ever going to be one. One that I hadn’t even had sex with. Their own worry and paranoia I’d inherited was their attempt at taking care of me, I knew, but it was beginning to breach a boundary that was—by this point—just plain insulting.

“Just tell your parents the truth,” Kenny said. “You’re going to Lakewood for Craig and that’s it.” The problem was that I didn’t want my parents knowing that I had the world’s most clingy crush on the same boy who had caused a relatively fair amount of trouble in our town. The same boy I grew up with; the same boy they knew; the same boy who beat the shit out of me in third grade and I to him. My parents and his parents were friends. I would kill myself if word of my crush reached Craig’s monstrous firecrotch of a dad. “Better yet, let them talk to him. Parents love talking to who their child’s infatuated with. They just need reassurance.”

“That’s not happening. No,” I said.

“Believe it or not, Craig is a parent charmer. I can guarantee that he is the type you want to bring home to your parents because he knows how to work with them. Him and Token. Let him show your mom and dad that he’s a good guy, otherwise whatever happens next you’ve done to yourself.”

What I blurted out in tandem was an attempt to change the subject, to push it in the direction of somewhere lighter. “Clyde’s throwing a Halloween party and we’re invited. Can we go?”

But of course it would fail me.

“You’re not going to be happy about this,” Kenny warned, stopping at a light.

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “What?” I growled.

The light changed and the truck continued down the road. “I’m going away in a couple of days. I won’t be gone for long, but it’ll be after Halloween when I get back. It’s a workshop ordeal down in Denver. I’m staying with Kyle.”

“Oh.” I wanted to be happy because this was good for him. He was getting farther in his career and that was above all else. I was proud of this skirt chaser who at one point had been nothing but a pervert. But that also meant I wouldn’t be able to see Craig until he got back. Maybe this would be best, though. I’ve never spent a holiday away from home, especially one so scary. Thomas and I usually stayed inside and watched one scary movie then for the remainder of the night watched whatever else was on. It would be weird without him.

“I know what you’re thinking but it’s not like you absolutely need me to get down there.” Kenny glanced over and winked.

I scoffed. “Oh yeah, just let me total my dad’s car trying to get out of the driveway.” He opened his mouth to interject, only I wasn’t finished. “Just let me get a world record full of traffic tickets for driving five miles per hour down the highway. Let me drive for two days just to get there.”

He started laughing as he said, “Don’t play stupid, Tweek. You know I meant to ask Craig.”

“Oh yeah,” I repeated. “Just let me ask him to drive two hours down here and two hours back just to pick me up. I’m not leaving Thomas alone for Halloween anyways.”

“I’d rather have you with Craig on Halloween than with me. You’re getting down there one way or another,” Thomas promised, not helping me in the slightest.

“He’ll do it,” Kenny added.

“No he won’t.”

“Ask for yourself and see.”

Great. Fucking wonderful.

Maybe Craig would be meeting my parents sooner than I expected.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

Wed, 19 Dec 2012 13:57:00 -0500

Title: The Strange Attraction Syndrome - Chapter Thirty-six
Pairing: Creek
Rating: M
Summary: Ten years is a long time to have an unrequited crush, but Tweek’s wait is just about over. So much for Craig being asexual.
Point of View: Craig

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

—Albert Camus

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He tripped over the sidewalk as we made it to the other side. The apartment complex parking lot was one block away. I could see the green framed rooms and the customary granite staircases just ahead.

“N-No,” he coughed, rubbing his cheek nervously. Was his reaction one of anxiety or paranoia? Maybe both. I understood why he was so sketchy now.

“Have you ever had one?” Tweek nodded, causing me to look at him for the answer. “What happened?”

His cheeks grew warm. “He was jealous, got mad at me, a-and broke up with me.” This guy was suspiciously open for being a medicated mess. I wanted to see how nosy I could be before he shut his mouth, so I asked why. The blonde smiled bitterly and I spotted some of that reoccurring sadness pull at his naturally drawn features. “He told me that I was t-too hung up on a stupid crush over s-someone else. That it wasn’t fair.”

When I asked who he’d ruined a relationship over, his answer was immediate. “I’m not telling you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not sitting in the bed.”

“You sound so sure about that,” Kenny sniggered.

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

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

“I wouldn’t say planned.” Her grin grew more sinister. “I just saw an opportunity and took it.”

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

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

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

“He misses you, too.”

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

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

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

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

“I really haven’t thought about it.” My eyes narrowed as I turned into our apartment complex.

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

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

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

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

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

I leaned back against the wall, mission accomplished. “It’s a foolproof idea, dude.”

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

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

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

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

“You never kissed your boyfriend?”

“What?” He asked quickly, blinking rapidly.

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

Except he’d let me kiss him.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I would’ve.”

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

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

“Have you ever shown him these?”

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

“You should,” she suggested. “He’ll like all of them.”

Snorting, I asked, “He won’t think I’m creepy and stay in South Park forever?”

The brunette girl laughed at my humor before surely stating, “I think he’ll be flattered.”

That didn’t sound too bad. That actually sounded quite rewarding. “Flattered enough to suck me off?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t need to flatter him for that.”

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

Was Clyde’s girlfriend a retard or something?

My brows rose in curiosity. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Dude,” I huffed. “You fucking suck.”

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

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

“It’ll make his life knowing you finally got his number, okay? Just do it.”

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

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

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

And then suddenly:

“You have a crush on Spiderman.”

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

“So that’s who your cockblock crush is? The one your boyfriend broke up with you over?”

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

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

…Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t get it. What am I looking at?” Clyde asked impatiently, staring at his food longingly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just shut up. Stop worrying about that. That doesn’t matter.”

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

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

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

“Who decided we were going to ‘end up’ together?”

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

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

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

“Close enough,” he grumbled.

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

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

My grin was vicious. “Tweek’s going to regret ever wanting my nuts.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

Wed, 19 Dec 2012 13:56:00 -0500

Title: The Strange Attraction Syndrome - Chapter Thirty-five
Pairing: Creek
Rating: M
Summary: Ten years is a long time to have an unrequited crush, but Tweek’s wait is just about over. So much for Craig being asexual.
Point of View: Craig

Where the spirit does not work with the hand, there is no art.

—Leonardo Da Vinci

“What are we doing for Halloween?” Clyde asked. And just because he’d said that, I put a ghost next to my doodle of Tweek and gave him a terrified expression. I would’ve given him a bulky pillowcase except I didn’t see the blonde trusting house owners enough to believe they wouldn’t poison their candy.

“Oh, yeah.” Token realized what holiday was approaching, pausing to sip from his glass of orange juice. “Halloween’s next week, right?”

Clyde nodded his head, sliding a piece of pop-tart between his lips before speaking around the crumbs. “I’ve heard a lot of people talking about costumes but no parties. Thoroughly disappointing if you ask me. Halloween parties are the best.”

My best friends contrasted so greatly. I honestly had no clue how I’d ended up with the two of them.

“That’s called a costume party,” I reminded him. “Anybody can throw one any time of the year.”

He huffed at me, upset that I’d ruined his point. “But a Halloween costume party only comes once a year, asshole. Where’s your holiday spirit?”

My eyes parted with my sketchbook for what felt like the first time today. I looked around quite literally. “Somewhere around here.” Returning to my sketch of—here comes a shocker—Tweek, I continued with: “What if I painted all of our faces this year?”

“Only if my woman gets to be a squirrel.”

Clyde’s condition was relatively accurate, causing me to smirk. “I’m thinking something more like chipmunk. You two can match.”

“What am I going to be?” Token asked, and I actually had to contemplate before answering.

“Gorilla.” He gave me a humorless stare from across the room. “I’m just fucking with you,” I snickered. “You can be an elephant and I’ll make your arm the trunk.”

“I know what else can be a trunk,” Clyde sniggered with a coy wink.

“Hell yeah,” I agreed. “Token, you should totally let me paint your penis.”

This suggestion of mine brought a torrent of laughter from my brunette best friend. It was kind of ridiculous because it hadn’t been that funny, but whatever he was imagining in his head must’ve been doing something for him. “Yeah, dude! Think you could suck some peanuts up with that thing?” He was too busy laughing at his own joke to realize Token and I exchanging disturbed glances.

We tried to ignore him after that. Even went as far as to ditch him while he was in the bathroom, effectively forcing him to walk to our college by himself.

One of my classes in particular was being a troublesome thing lately. My teacher had assigned us a project that was supposed to be inspired by fear and I couldn’t help but figure that this man had stolen my Halloween spirit because he usually wasn’t into seasonal projects. Every once in a while he liked to test our creativity, so we were allowed free rein with the concept and creation of our individual fears that made us unique as individuals. A few of my classmates had really taken to the idea and were constructing sculptures or carving pumpkins that they would then enter in jack-o-lantern contests that gave away cash prizes.

Their progress over the past couple of days has been intriguing to me and I wished I could receive a grade for overseeing their work since this project just wasn’t working out for me like it was them. I’ve been unable to do much of anything for too many reasons: I was tired, my dream was still being a nuisance—the color scheme blue, green, yellow, black, and a hint of pink was always ticking off in my head—all I could focus on was Tweek, and I just didn’t fear things.

After viewing some of the fears bustling around the classroom, I’ve come to the conclusion that if I died, I died. I didn’t fear death. I’ve bungee jumped before, so I’d be overwhelmed, but I didn’t fear heights. If I was dropped into a tank of roaches, I’d probably just lay there because what were they going to do? Survive a nuclear bomb, that’s what. Roller coasters were awesome. I welcomed the dark. If I had the chance to be a ghost hunter, I would. Natural disasters happened because that was the way the earth worked. The whole mirror in the dark thing had become nothing to me after I’d reached the age of eleven.

I was just sitting there while everyone else was working diligently. They were excited about this project while on my paper labeled ideas I had absolutely nothing. There was a scribble in the corner, but I had just been testing out my new pen to see if it worked. I mean, I was terrified of losing my best friends or my dogs and before that the fear at the top of my one-bulleted list had been Stripe’s death. Once that had presented itself, fear had just honestly ceased to matter. Every goddamn day I wished that I existed in Steven King’s Pet Cemetery. I’d bring back that fear and be tormented by the idea every day if I could just have my guinea pig back. But that never happened and the universe didn’t stop for anyone.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I found the number of the person who seemed to be my only source of inspiration and held the phone to my ear. Now that he knew it was me when I called, Tweek had begun to answer on the third ring religiously. I wondered if it was just me he did this with, or if it was everyone, or if he even noticed at all, and if he did, was it a compulsion or coincidence? I meant to ask him every time I called, but every time I’d forgot whenever he picked up.

“Hi,” Tweek greeted. He was always unusually chipper whenever I called.

“Hey.” We paused unanimously for a second, a second of which I always gave him so he’d have the option of starting a conversation although he never did. That was my job, I’d noticed. “So I’m in class—”

“Then you shouldn’t be on the phone with me.”

Ignoring him, I continued saying, “And this project really fucking sucks, dude. I need your help.”

“Oh,” he chirped, suddenly okay with me calling. “W-What do you need help with?”

One elbow on the table, I twisted my torso and stretched my other toward the ceiling, clicking the butt of my pen while saying, “I need to do something with my fears and I’m kind of short on those, so you should tell me some of yours to give me ideas.”

Tweek started snorting on the other line like a little piglet. “You have a fear of morning wood, remember? Just draw a giant boner.”

My smirk was sly. “Are you insinuating that my penis is giant?”

“What—no!” His cry was mortified. “No—I—What? I wasn’t—that isn’t—”

“What are you doing?” I asked, interrupting his incoherent babble.

I listened as his breath hitched. “Huh?”

“Tell me what you’re doing. It’s the afternoon. You’re doing something, aren’t you?” It was a tactic I’d begun using to get him to calm down whenever I happened to frazzle him. He liked to tell me things he knew, and the things he knew were the things he did. They were things he was sure about and didn’t have to second guess.

“I’m working,” he said before going into an explanation. “O-Or I’m on my break, I mean.” Sometimes it took him a while to shake off his nerves. “My dad made a really good pumpkin spice latte. I h-haven’t been able to stop drinking them.”

“Yeah?” He gave a pleased mhmm and I could see him sitting in a booth at his coffeehouse with some orange drink topped with cream and sprinkled with cinnamon or nutmeg. I began to doodle what I saw in my head onto my idea paper. “That sounds gross.”

“You don’t like coffee?”

“Fuck no. Clyde chugs it to wake himself up and that’s about as involved as it gets in my life.”

He made a short sound before saying, “I can change that.” For the first time, he’d sounded confident in himself, but that was just something I couldn’t have. Before I could say anything to counter his certainty, because I was not going to get into coffee, he resumed our previous topic of conversation. “So what kind of fears are you looking for? Because I have a lot.”

Frowning, I looked down at my nearly blank paper. “All of them.”

Tweek was most likely rolling his eyes. “Okay. Well” —he considered what was probably all of his fears in the next moment— “I’m scared of porcelain dolls and bomb sirens and pictures of space and the idea of space and pictures of the ocean and the idea of the ocean and electrocution so that’s why I turn off all the electricity during lightning storms and spare change especially pennies because of the whole heads and tails thing and pi scares the shit out of me because the number never ends and supposedly there’s some machine that keeps printing numbers and how does that machine even know? How did Einstein know? How did Greek philosophers know? What is language? How do we understand each other? I heard that one out of every ten people you pass is a ghost and that just blows my mind. The subconscious scares me and fears scare me and the body’s ability to withstand pain scares me and adrenaline!”

All I could do was laugh. It was boisterous and loud and repetitive and I honestly felt like Token had taken over my body for about five minutes because I just couldn’t stop. Tweek was catching his breath and that just made it even better because he’d gotten so involved with what he was telling me that he hadn’t even paused to breathe. He’d winded himself. Obviously asphyxiation wasn’t a fear of his and then I started laughing even harder at my own stupid joke. There were tears in my eyes and my class was staring at me, some laughing at me because my laugh was so ridiculous, and it just kept coming.

“You—” I tried to say, but my voice caught on my laughter and I had to burry my face in the crook my elbow to get it all out before trying again. “You are so adorable, dude.” And I was dead scared of ever laughing like that again so maybe I’d be able to incorporate that into my project somehow. God, I’d sounded like my dad when he watched his favorite movie: White Chicks. I don’t know what it was about black cops turning into white bitches but that was the only way to make him laugh.

“C-Craig? Are you okay?” Tweek asked, but he sounded more amused than he was worried.

“Yeah, I’m good.” My professor checked the time and dismissed the class, pointing at me with his pencil from across the room to let me know that he knew I’d done nothing the entire class period. As I gathered my sparse belongings, I told the blonde, “Just got a little carried away there. Hey, when is your break over?”

“Umm—it can be over whenever I want it to be.” In my head he was grinning because of course he decided his own breaks and shifts and hours. He worked for his parents after all.

Exiting the classroom, I started down a set selection of spacious hallways that would take me to the front of the building where I’d meet with Clyde and Token. “Then you should stay on the phone with me a little longer.”

“Okay.” I could tell that he was flattered by the shy quality of his voice. “What are y-you doing?”

“I’m on my way home right now, but since Token and I ditched Clyde this morning, I’d rather not have to listen to him whine the entire way back.”

The blonde ahhed as though he understood. “So I’m just your distraction? That’s all I’m good for anymore?”

Oh, we could definitely play this game. “Yeah, pretty much. Just when you’re not here.”

“Wow. I should hang up and make you listen to Clyde whine for fifteen minutes.” Obviously he could play too. Touché.

“Or you could ignore my asshole tendencies and not do that.” When I stepped outside, Token and Clyde were already waiting for me. I was surprised Clyde hadn’t talked Token into ditching me as payback.

The brunette—confused that I was actually talking on the phone for once in my life—asked, “Who’s that?” He leaned in close as we started home to hear the answer to his own question.

“Well maybe I want to be an asshole for once,” even though you were an asshole when you decided to pass out while I had a boner ”and make you suffer all by yourself.” I did suffer all by myself because you made me lay with you while I had a boner.

“Is that Tweek?” I nodded my head and pushed his face away. Grumbling, he relented and took up a spot at Token’s side.

“Was t-that Clyde?”

“Yes. Now show me mercy and—”

“Nope,” he chirped. Just before hanging up on me.

I took my phone from my ear, looked down at it, and nodded my head, clucking my tongue. “Okay. Alright. We’ll see about that, you little shit.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

Mon, 10 Sep 2012 19:30:00 -0400

Title: The Strange Attraction Syndrome - Chapter Thirty-Four
Pairing: Creek
Rating: M
Summary: Ten years is a long time to have an unrequited crush, but Tweek’s wait is just about over. So much for Craig being asexual.
Point of View: Craig

There is nothing worse than a sharp image of a fuzzy concept.

―Ansel Adams

I’ve been having some of the strangest dreams lately. They were a necessity to me, could be turned into something tangible, and it wasn’t often that scenarios would inhabit my head as I slept, but lately I’ve been having quite a few nighttime experiences. They’ve been insightful and informative in my subconscious but that was the only way that I could reach them because by the time I woke up they were gone. I was trying to tell myself something, something that I so clearly knew but ironically had no idea how to figure out.

Details that I thought I knew became these obscured blobs all wilted and incomprehensible. It happened every time I attempted to paint their reoccurring images. In my head I could see these things in such vivid clarity that it disturbed me when I couldn’t recreate it on paper. It was like everything just went dumb, both my hands as well as my speech when I tried to describe what I managed to recall to others.

Many nights I only succeeded in splattering paint on my skin and staining the carpet while canvases supposed to contain an epiphany held nothing but blurred stuff like abstract bumblebees and sunflowers floating in ocean and algae, sometimes the silhouette of a black bird against the yellow sun. It was just hard because the moment I woke up with the dream fresh in my head, it would disclose itself somewhere far, far away just as quickly. And I would watch it recede slow and fast all at the same time, desperate to snatch just a fraction of it with my fingers because brushes would’ve taken too long to search for. And my paper that had once been much too small on the brink of awakening was suddenly much too large since forgetting so soon.

Not even my artistic intuition could decipher what these completely unintelligible things were supposed to be because I wasn’t even sure if they were bumblebees and sunflowers or birds. I would stare at them distastefully, waiting for their vague masses to give me a clue as to why pink spots were dotted throughout the useless painting, why none of it made sense and yet it’s been waking me prematurely every night. When Clyde saw them, he’d comment that I was losing my touch, and maybe I was. None of my professors liked what I was handing in but I couldn’t blame them. All I wanted to draw was Tweek so that was where all of my effort went, but I wasn’t about to share him with any of my teachers or classmates so I had started putting together halfassed shit just to keep my grades steady with enough time left over to occupy myself with more Tweek.

And honestly, I was just going to go ahead and admit it: I was borderline obsessed with this goddamn health nut. I liked to draw him in the seclusion of my room while eating salads with the dressing he’d helped Pretty Lady make. He was filling up a good portion of paper in ways Stripe never had because it wasn’t just waking hours that I busied my time with him. It was just before sleep and during sleep and those times in-between I’d termed “sleep drawing”. In the early mornings where at times I’m meant to be unconscious, I’ve been instead replicating him and grown sleep deprived because of it.

All of this―every single goddamn doodle and sketch and drawing and painting I’ve done since Tweek left―has been done near incoherently. On one unfortunate night I’d gotten the version of him, the one from the last night I saw him, stuck in my half-dead brain and that hadn’t been good because I’d ended up drawing him on the cusp of orgasm so many times that―fuck, I’d let it get to me.

I’d been hysterical on this night when it happened, utterly lost to my surroundings and unaware of anything but the shape of his parted mouth on the paper and the tousled disarray of his damp locks. There were other details that I wanted to draw, wanted to see, but I could only guess. It was the feel of his fingers digging into my skin, his warm little palm cupping me for that short moment. I’d wished noise had a physical appearance as I sat there etching out the half-mast image of his eyes because I could hear him as I remembered those quiet sounds and soft mewls, the whimpers and my name on his tongue.

His thighs had been small in my hands, skin smooth and lips glistening. The featherlight touch he’d applied to my hips―I had been able to recall it so well, and I hadn’t even realized it when my hand had gone limp, when I had quit drawing and only been able to see what was inside of my head. That night I’d been hunched forward, forehead leaning into my easel, fingers aching not for a brush or pencil, but as they reminisced his body and the state he’d been in, the one I’d touched and made feel.

Unfortunately for this particular Tucker, I don’t know how I’d done it, but I had given myself more boners in a week than I have in an entire year.

Seriously, I just didn’t know what to do with all of them. I was so tired of my seemingly uncontrollable abundance that I had them organized. The first I beat off, the second I took a cold shower, the third I just let go until I went soft. That was the pattern I lived by as the days commenced. I just hoped I didn’t doze off during the day and get a hard-on in the middle of class because number three had been my last erection.

To be honest, I had no idea how Clyde and Kenny handled them. They were masturbating fiends. It wasn’t even that I didn’t like them or didn’t want one because it was a phenomenon when they did decide to appear in my life, but so fucking many after never having any was just strenuous on my body. And I was exaggerating the amount but it just felt like a lot, like too many and not enough energy in my body to amount to their remarkable quantity of numbers. A flood of boners―that’s what was happening to me. I was being attacked by a never-ending flood of fucking boners.

Cure for erectile disfunction aside, by the next day I wouldn’t even realize that I’d drawn him incoherently until I spot my pad of paper removed from beneath my bed or my sketchbooks open and laying on the floor. It was like I couldn’t sleep at all, my brain too full of too much stuff for it to fit, and so to empty it out I’d taken to sleep drawing since ninety percent of that nonsense has been Tweek as well as numerous variations on the interpretation of that one dream. So many papers with Tweek’s fucking face have been collected, cluttering up my space, that I had to ask Pretty Lady to help me organize the mass—not the mess, the mass. Two hands just didn’t seem to be enough.

We were on the floor of my bedroom with piles of paper circling our bodies. They were the loose sheets that didn’t belong to my sketchbooks or paper pads and there were a lot. When I’d first asked her for help, she hadn’t been expecting such a massive clutter. Though she appeared unfazed, I didn’t know if so many alterations of Tweek’s face and facial features were creeping her out or not. I mean, he was everywhere front and back.

There were his sad eyes, ashamed eyes, glittering eyes, foggy, laughing, scared eyes. There were his lashes in the dark, bold and black, and then in the sun, scarce dusty blonde lashes catching the light. There was the bridge of his nose and apples of his cheeks sprinkled with a blush, and contrasting levels of paleness that varied whether or not he’d been caught, was worried, or frightened. There were the palms of his dainty hands cupping numerous pills or his little-knuckled fingers resting limply against my bed as he slept. There were his lips stretched into a smile, puffed out in a pout, shining after he wet them, swollen from the abuse of my mouth and teeth.

I had recorded the delicate shape of his skinny legs in different articles of clothing from tight black jeans, to crumpled blue jeans, to cutoffs that revealed his small calves and bony ankles. Sometimes I would sketch certain pairs of his boots that happened to catch my eye or a scarf I might’ve liked. And then there were the others where clothes weren’t included at all. I’d carve the slender curve of his back or the bones of his hips into my paper. A few were of shadows catching his spine and ribcage. I wanted to emphasize the smooth texture of his skin in some.

As I looked them all over I remembered snippets like the softness of his hair and the slip of my fingertips over his lips. I wasn’t going to say anything then and I wouldn’t now but he would always turn his cheek into my hand whenever I got a feel for him. My mouth curled when I saw favorites of mine like the first portrait I ever did of him in my room, the same one the Julibeages had loved fetching for me now all chewed on at the corners and slobber-stained; the one of him sleeping with the dogs and this one from my most recent state of sleep drawing: a memory from the day we’d all eaten at IHOP where he was peeking up at me from the rim of his giant coffee cup. They’d fallen out of my sketchbook at some point to join these looseleaf ones on my floor for whatever reason inanimate objects had.

Pretty Lady held two papers in her hands, considering both before putting them down with the others. She’d wanted to look at them all before they got put away into folders, some of different sizes because at times I liked to work with larger sheets of paper or cut regular ones in half. “These are beautiful Craig,” she said. The two she placed on the floor were newer ones that I’d slept drawn. Any older pieces had already been sifted through. I felt smug because I hadn’t created the majority of these in the right state of mind and yet they were still attractive enough to compliment.

“Because they’re of him,” I told her simply. I was looking down at his nearly symmetrical face as he slept, the similar slope of his brows and identical placement of his eyes. He hadn’t known I’d woken up, had barely even shifted in my absence, and I hadn’t meant to draw him—I’d honestly just needed to use the bathroom—but the compulsion had been there when I re-entered the room, so of course I’d had to do it.

She glanced at me before picking up another drawing. “You think he’s beautiful?”

“I think he’s gorgeous.” Tweek Tweak was definitely something else and it was nice whatever it was.

Her smile was mischievous, reminiscent of Kenny. Perhaps they were in league with each other. “Have you ever shown him these?”

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

“You should,” she suggested. “He’ll like all of them.”

Snorting, I asked, “He won’t think I’m creepy and stay in South Park forever?”

The brunette girl laughed at my humor before surely stating, “I think he’ll be flattered.”

That didn’t sound too bad. That actually sounded quite rewarding. “Flattered enough to suck me off?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t need to flatter him for that.”

My brows rose in curiosity. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

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

“Dude,” I huffed. “You fucking suck.”

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

Speaking of fucking. “What?” I was so genuinely confused.

“It’ll make his life knowing you finally got his number, okay? Just do it.” She stood up from my floor and jumped across the piles before sneaking out my door, careful not to let the Julibeagles in.

I toppled over as gently as my beanstalk body could manage to keep from wrinkling any of Tweek’s portraits. Closing my eyes, I tried to bring up any repetitive images from my dreams, specifically the ones I always tried to draw because they seemed to be the most important, but the only thing I could picture were my blurry interpretations of them. It really sucked having to do this—or at least feeling the need to do so. Documenting dreams was one thing, and that was something I was good at, but analyzing was something else entirely, and I couldn’t even document this one because the only thing that came from it were blobs when I knew that there was something more.

This was such a hassle. All I wanted to do with my life was raise my dogs, draw stuff, draw Tweek, and continue to be best friends with Clyde and Token. None of this other stuff was necessary. This dream shit and Pretty Lady suddenly saying weird stuff and Kenny having to come over every time Tweek did. That last one wasn’t even of grave importance but it still added to my turmoil.

Dejected—lately I’ve spent so much time on my dream that by now I thought it was useless to ponder on it for too long—I rooted around in my pocket for my phone and lifted it in front of my face. I scrolled through my contacts until I found Tweek’s name, a thing of which I noticed I kind of liked being there, and debated on calling or texting. It’d be fun to mess with him. Maybe I could pretend to be the murderer he’d worried over the night before he left.

Instead, I held my phone against my ear and waited for him to answer. It was later in the afternoon, so hopefully he wasn’t busy. After the line continued to ring, I thought about hanging up but then I imagined Tweek throwing his phone across the room at the call of an unknown number and decided not to be too hasty.

I’d just gotten through a few verses of a 1980’s Genesis song when someone picked up and it definitely wasn’t Tweek. From afar I heard, “You’re such a baby.” Their voice was smoother, more controlled. To the phone, they said, “Hello?”

“Hey. You should give the phone to Tweek.”

“I would, but Tweek’s too busy being a puss—” In the background Tweek clearly said the name Thomas in a scolding manner. No fucking way. ”Dude, Thomas! Tourette’s Thomas?”

“Yeah,” the guy confirmed curiously. This was like the best day of my life. I loved this kid back in South Park. “Who’s this?”

Sitting up, I exclaimed, “It’s Craig! I did your laundry on multiple occasions, remember?”

There was practically an explosion from the other side of the phone. “Craig, yeah! Of course I—bitch—remember!” Oh God, I loved him so much. He was still so cool.

“Thomas, give me the phone,” Tweek ordered. A scuffling sound followed shortly after.

“You got cute!” Thomas confessed.

I could see the two of them scuttling around a room I’ve never seen before, one trying to keep the phone, another desperate to take it back. “Yeah?” I laughed. “I’ll bet you got cute, too. You should send me a picture sometime.”

“Oh,” he exaggerated at his friend’s expense. “You mean nudes? I’ll definitely be sending some to you.”

“Thomas!” Tweek’s screech was vicious. I’d never seen him angry before and I wondered how the light played in his eyes when he was.

“Hey, calm down,” Thomas consoled. I felt a punchline coming on. “When I get some back I’ll be sure to share them with you.”

Everything was silent for a moment and I really wish I could’ve been there to see Tweek’s expression. “Thomas,” he finally threatened coldly. “Give me the fucking phone.”

Sighing, Thomas relented with a mournful, “Bye Craig. Maybe some other time.”

Before speaking, Tweek took a deep breath that I don’t think he knew I heard. Thomas was giggling, encouraging him to bring up the nudes exchange. Once he let his breath out, his anger along with it, he squeaked into the phone a barely audible: “Hi, Craig.”

He could be so endearing. “You’re cute,” I teased. When he started sputtering, I added, “How have you been?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

Sat, 08 Sep 2012 23:46:00 -0400

Title: The Strange Attraction Syndrome - Chapter Thirty-Three
Pairing: Creek
Rating: M
Summary: Ten years is a long time to have an unrequited crush, but Tweek’s wait is just about over. So much for Craig being asexual.
Point of View: Tweek

Darling, please show your teeth
Just one more dance to help me sleep
Whirl, cold water eyes
Fill the past with friendly nights
Human skin can be hard to live in

—Seabear, I Sing I Swim

Tweek’s point of view:

I reminisced and thought to myself that maybe our goodbye had effected Craig just a bit more than it had the first time. He’d been reluctant to say anything to me up until I’d already hugged everyone else, until he could avoid it no longer, and even then he’d stretched it out. I hadn’t wanted to leave and maybe he hadn’t wanted me to either. That possibility made waking up in my bed by myself a bit more bearable. It was weird that my bed didn’t move at every slight shift. One night alone and my body felt cold beneath the sheets, unaccustomed to just my solo temperature after sharing Craig’s for such a consistent number of days. Maybe he’d be thinking something similar when he woke up or went to sleep.

Thomas had managed to drag me out of bed, helped me complete my schoolwork and kept me company while I put in an afternoon shift at the coffeehouse. He never asked me for details on my stay at Craig’s, wary of my parents always lingering around about as much as I was, but it was clear that his curiosity and expectancy were wearing him thin. I was positive that Kenny had at least hinted at what had happened between Craig and I because the looks I was receiving from him were ones of pure excitement. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’d let my parents in on the scandal as well. Or maybe I wasn’t hiding my hickeys very well, their calculative gazes ones of suspicion. Either that or their parental intuition was telling them that their son had gotten it on with a man. A sexy, sexy man.

The back of my head hit the wall as a groan tumbled helplessly from my lips. I was sitting at the kitchen table in Stan and Kenny’s apartment. The two of them plus Thomas and Kyle who was on speakerphone were situated around the room: Kenny digging through the fridge for a drink, Thomas sprawled out across the couch, Stan caressing the phone containing his fiancé’s voice as though it were a living thing. They were conversing about bachelor parties, both tentative to mention their actual wedding. It was cute except it had nothing to do with my current distress. My plan had been to wait until Thomas and I were completely alone to spill what I still had yet to believe.

It was beginning to hit me the more I thought about it and the more I thought about it the more I tried to remember how Craig had felt against my palm because what if that had been my only chance? What if I never saw him again for whatever reason?

A buzzing erupted inside my pocket. When I took my phone out and saw that I had a text message, I read it over and felt my lungs flutter. It was from Clyde’s girlfriend and she was saying, What did you do to Craig? He’s pretty much dead over here and I don’t think he’s coming back until you do.

Her and her Craig and Tweek Theory were resonating throughout my head. It was so simple—nothing more than that Craig and I were ultimately going to “end up” together—but I wanted to be pessimistic so bad, to be a realist. I just didn’t see her theory coming true, or at least I hadn’t. I still didn’t, but…fuck.

“Something happened,” I admitted, grabbing the attention of those in the room. All conversation grew suspended in the air at my interruption.

Kenny shut the refrigerator door, a can of soda in hand and a delighted smirk on his face. “I—” I’ve been home for nearly three days and this is all I can think about. I ate dinner wishing it had been Craig ordering it for me, guessing what I’d like. I drank coffee that was good but it wasn’t the generic kind in Craig’s apartment. I showered and I wanted Craig to be there when I got out so he could say to me that he wanted me aroused.

My face crumpled pitifully. Stan set the phone down while Thomas raised his head up off the couch to sit up. Kenny leaned against the counter and sipped at his drink because this was no news to him. “Tweek?” Kyle sounded worried.

There was a smile on my lips that encompassed all of the inevitability of my feelings. This oblivious and yet knowing thing, it combined fear and happiness into a concoction that fed me and wilted me and excited me. “Do you guys have any idea what he’s doing to me?” I squeaked, leeching off the churning emotion in my chest.

Stan’s features softened in recognition. He grinned endearingly down at the phone, at Kyle. “I know exactly what he’s doing to you,” he murmured, a lilting undertone to his voice, “because I did it to Kyle and Kyle did it do me.”

For a second I wondered what Kyle was doing upon hearing that or how he looked, and then he said “I love you,” and I knew. I knew that he was smiling and he was happy and he was twisting his engagement ring on his finger because he’d taken to finding comfort in it quite quickly. I couldn’t help but wonder if I would ever be able to say that to Craig. It wasn’t a matter of him saying it back or him saying it to me at all, just that I could tell him and it could be that simple.

“He—whoa, okay.” This was hitting me all of a sudden and I remembered my orgasm and that immaculate limbo I’d been suspended in. “He—oh, God. Shit—fuck. You guys, he—” I was a whimpering mess. The tips of my fingers rubbed against my temples as my fast jumble of nonsense continued. I wasn’t even talking to anyone in particular, I was just…why? Why had he done that to me? I wanted Craig back. I wanted to feel that again. I wanted him to feel it too because of me. “I—I don’t know how it h-happened.”

Thomas and Stan were exchanging eye contact while Kenny gave me a thumbs up and a very distinct hip thrust, but all I could do was stare at him and shake my head. He sighed dramatically and left absolutely no time for me to stop him as he told everyone exactly what was wrong with me—exactly what had happened to make me act this way.

“Craig gave Tweek a hand job.”

Kyle was silent on the other line, Stan’s brows knit together, and Thomas lunged across the room to maul me. We toppled out of my chair and the first thing to hit the floor was my tailbone. I went rigid with pain and whimpered when Thomas practically screamed out his excitement right into my ear. He’d been waiting for this moment—not Craig and I, but for me to finally orgasm—so that we could talk about it because that’s what my best friend loved to do. I wouldn’t have to sit there listening to him anymore like I used to because now we could converse. Oh, I couldn’t wait.

From above the table I heard Stan ask Kenny if he was being serious. He didn’t sound a fraction as happy as Thomas did and a small spark of anger flickered in the pit of my stomach. I scrambled up as quickly as I could with a sore butt, but I had no idea what I meant to do once I was standing there witnessing the unsure expression skimming Stan’s face. Once he caught my movement, he turned that expression to me and I flinched at how ironic it was that he was certain of his uncertainty.

“You guys, what’s going on? Why is it so quiet?” Kyle asked.

He wasn’t going to get an answer for his question. I was going to get one for mine. “Why aren’t you guys happy?” Thomas got up from the floor and put his chin on my shoulder, something of which I barely felt.

When Stan glanced away, I honestly felt slightly betrayed. If Kyle were here, I’m sure they would have given each other the same look that they would’ve understood and I wouldn’t have liked. As a replacement, he gave it to the table instead, and that’s when I realized that they’ve talked about this before. They’ve talked about me and Craig and about whether or not they agreed with the possibility of us.

“I don’t like him,” Stan said, tapping his fingers against the tabletop. “You know that I don’t. And I’m not going to trust him with you until he proves that he’s selfless enough to give you what you need, alright?” It was because of the selfless comment, how similar it was to what Clyde’s girlfriend had said, that I tried not to shut him out. “Because you’re always going to need someone to take care of you, Tweek. That’s just—you. You need a specific type of companionship, and I just don’t believe that Craig’s capable of that.”

“But he does take care of me,” I told him, all of them, in desperation. “I had a nightmare a-and he made sure that I was okay. He got my medication for me and he made sure that I ate and he went inside with me when I t-thought there was a murderer outside and he doesn’t care about my t-tics or how medicated I am or that I have a f-fucking psychiatrist.” I didn’t get why I was defending Craig like it mattered when I only ever thought about how this was some useless hope of mine. It was like in my head I tried to tell myself that it was never going to happen, but when I voiced it I tried to make it sound real. It was okay for me not to believe in optimism, but not anybody else, because I needed their encouragement. Or maybe I just didn’t want to hear the truth, still stuck in my decade long infatuation.

“And I want to believe you,” Stan said. “I want to think about Craig the same way I do my friends for you. I want to hear you say these things about him and think ‘oh yeah, of course, Craig’s the perfect gentleman and he definitely deserves you,’ but I can’t.” Except he had it wrong. It was the other way around. I didn’t deserve Craig. “I won’t do it, Tweek. Not until something drastic happens and I am hoping so badly that it does because I will kill him if this hurts you.”

“He—” My voice cracked and my vision blurred. It stung my eyes and it was embarrassing and I had to cover my mouth to keep from sobbing but I wasn’t finished yet and I wanted Stan and Kyle to know how much it meant to me that Craig didn’t care, to get their opinions past these other things that they thought. “H-He likes my stutter and he said it’s okay. He said that I have nothing to be ashamed of because it’s just the way I handle things!” Thomas had to push down on my head to get me to sit down. My breath was catching and I was sniffling. “Nobody has ever said that to me and it came from him. It came from Craig and I was s-so happy.”

Someone gave me a tissue but I couldn’t even see who it was. I just took it and thought it was giving me the go-ahead to unravel. My arms curled around each other on the table and I buried my head in them with the stupid tissue, crying and hiccuping over how taxing this confusion was and how I could possibly be so goddamn happy all over again just by remembering Craig. Thomas rubbed my trembling shoulders and that was enough to get me to let loose of a torrent of: “I like him so much, I like him so much, Thomas.” And when I started laughing I had no clue. All I could do was multitask the fuck out of both with no comprehension of what was happening to me.

Once I began shutting down, sniffles and nothing more, a despondent feeling overtook me. Inside my body I felt deserted. I wanted Craig to be here and I imagined what he’d do if he was. He’d call Stan by his last name, hug Thomas because he’s always liked my best friend’s Tourette’s, and make fun of Kyle for being a pubehead. He’d ignore Kenny because he’s seen enough of him in Lakewood despite the blonde’s constant absence.

That left me, and I think I knew Craig well enough to know that he’d draw me like this because he’s never seen me cry before. And I’d let him.

Why couldn’t people teleport?

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

i love this story so much! do you know when you're putting up chapter 9? i can't wait

Thu, 06 Sep 2012 15:37:25 -0400

Thank you! Isn’t chapter nine already up, though? Hahaha. I think there’s up to thirty-two (:

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

Wed, 05 Sep 2012 14:58:00 -0400

Title: The Strange Attraction Syndrome - Chapter Thirty-Two
Pairing: Creek
Rating: M
Summary: Ten years is a long time to have an unrequited crush, but Tweek’s wait is just about over. So much for Craig being asexual.
Point of View: Tweek

I was just guessing, at numbers and figures
Pulling the puzzles apart
Questions of science, science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart

—The Scientist, Coldplay

Tweek’s point of view:

I woke up a second time while Craig was still fast asleep. It was much later, roughly two in the afternoon, but Craig had gone to bed after me so I let that be his excuse. He wasn’t snoring anymore and he’d moved around to lay on his side facing me. In much the same position, I watched his sleeping features dawdle in whatever dream he might’ve been having. Reaching out, I combed my fingers through his bangs and pushed them from his face. There were never any tangles in his hair, always so thick and soft. A hint of stubble ran along his jawline and I brushed my fingers over that too.

My stomach twisted delightfully; it was an attractive look—rugged. I traced the supple shape of his lips with my eyes, my thumb carefully following. As the pad slowly eased along the bottom curve of his lip, a seam formed. His breath was gentle and warm when it grazed the palm of my hand. Smiling, I leaned in close and let that same breath touch my mouth. “You’re beautiful too,” I cooed, hand trailing down his throat. As my path continued down his chest, he inhaled deeply and the press of his skin against my fingers was alluring. His heart pounded against his ribcage, rhythmic and steady, visible thumps that attracted my eye.

It hadn’t been noticeable until I began touching him, and I knew that subconsciously his body was reacting to me. This knowledge excited me. My blood ran faster, my pulse spiked, my own body reacted to his reaction in some foreign, sensual domino effect. It was physical and I liked it and I wasn’t going to stop. His skin was a tempting temperature, emitting warmth that stuck to the sheets and cocooned my huddled figure. It occurred to me that tonight I’d be in my own bed, and even though I’d only been here but about a week, it was hard to remember what sleeping by myself was like. All I knew laying next to Craig was that it sucked being alone at home. I hadn’t even known it could suck until I’d come here.

It was then that I wondered if Craig would ever stay the night in my bed. I highly doubted he’d ever make it back to South Park, but if he did, would that be okay? Staying the night at my house? My parents would put cameras in my room and keep a security guard on watch at all times, so as long as he could get past that… The only boyfriend I’ve ever had hadn’t liked them because of how protective they were. I hadn’t even known they were capable of it, that they cared so much, until I’d told them that I was in a relationship. Things had never been safe with him. We’d rarely gotten the chance to be alone, but I hadn’t minded. Thomas’s peer pressure was the only reason I’d even tried for a relationship and the entire time I’d been stuck on Craig just like I’ve always been and always would be, a thing of which had been clear since my ex first grew interested.

He hadn’t been anything like Craig. No subtle masculinity to his features, no paint splattered hands, no icy eyes or baby chub when he ate a lot. I’ve never felt comfortable under anyone’s scrutinizing gaze except for Craig’s. His was never meant to judge, just to analyze and satisfy. My heart never sputtered like it was choking on lungs full of heady smoke, my pulse never reached my fingertips, my body never responded so eagerly—only with Craig. Every day that’s passed hasn’t been enough, and any days that might come next would never be enough. In a few hours I’d leave and then it would be weeks before I’d get to see him again and I wasn’t sure how I had lasted four years without him.

Sucking on my lower lip, I slid my palm down his stomach and wrapped my hand around his hip. He’d liked it last night when I stroked his hipbones, followed the angle of his V lines, and he’d like it now in the middle of sleep. His physical reply amused me: his restless stir, the way he burrowed his face into the pillows. It was cute, so I didn’t stop, gingerly passing my fingertips across his hips. I liked the feel of his happy trail and lightly scratched at the thin line of hair. He hunched his shoulders, curling closer. My hand paused, unsure of what it was getting itself into, but when Craig settled back into a sluggish hump, I tentatively continued to rub the lowest parts of his stomach. It took my by surprise, then, when he suddenly shifted much closer and let out a quiet hum.

Eyes widening, I stared at the sheet covering us in the general direction of where my hand was located. The same hand with the fingers that had just barely slipped beneath the hem of his boxer-briefs. It was stupid and small and over exaggerated but my fingertips were in his pants. Would he be upset if I touched him? It seemed only fair after last night. And I’d be leaving today, so if I wanted to do anything, now would have to be the time to do it.

But I’ve wanted to for eight years and I’ve waited just as long. I remembered being little and naive, thinking that a kiss was all it would take. It was a time when the only thing I had wanted from Craig was just a kiss and I’d be set. That was all everyone ever did because that was all my parents did and the movies did it too. After I’d grown up and matured just as much, I’d learned that there was more to receive from someone else aside from their kiss. Thomas had always been more curious sexually—not in sexuality, but the physical aspect of the act—and during our mutual crushing over Craig, had given me other things to think about. Better things.

It had then become a time where a kiss wasn’t the only thing I wanted. Up until he moved, I’d wanted everything. Any encounter I happened to have with him: passing back homework to his desk from the teacher, the small distance between his locker and mine that we’d go to at relatively the same time, those afternoons I would spend with Kenny where Craig and his friends showed up for a short moment—all I had ever thought about was what if he just pushed me against the wall and did whatever the hell he wanted to do to me?

I’d been selfish then—had gotten used to him always being there—because when he left, the only thing I ever wanted all over again was just a kiss. So I didn’t want to be selfish again. Not when Craig would be gone just as quickly as the last time.

Before I could even accept this, Craig’s groggy voice reached my ears. It was like a bomb siren. “Are you trying to cop a feel?”

Mortified, I snatched my hand back and spun around to face the other direction. The bed wobbled at my speedy turn. “Sorry… How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough to feel you try to grope me,” he grumbled.

He might’ve stretched or rolled around. All I heard was a lion’s groan and then waves erupted in the mattress. It was another minute until his arm came around me and I felt the heat of his skin douse my back. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t have minded waking up with a boner.” His voice rumbled against my ear, his chuckle settling far down into the pit of my stomach.

“You’re so full of shit.” Laughter tumbled from my lips. “I wasn’t going to give you a boner.”

“Oh, okay.” He nodded into my hair. “So what were you doing?”

When my mouth opened, I thought something high-pitched and embarrassed sound would come out. I was expecting this lame stutter of an excuse. What came out instead was: “Kenny and I are going home today.”

Craig didn’t respond right away. It took him so long that I thought he might’ve fallen back asleep. His breath was even against my back, weight steady where his arm laid across my side. “Okay,” he finally said. He pulled himself away from me and laid down on his back.

Uncertain, I peeked at him from over my shoulder. His blue eyes were staring up at the ceiling, impassive. “Craig?”

“Are you going to be okay sleeping by yourself?” I was baffled by his question.

“Y-Yeah. I do it all the time. It’s just new places. They always s-scare me…” My explanation drifted off into an incomplete silence. “Why?”

There was a small lift to his lips. “It was fun taking care of you.”

Yeah, I wished I could’ve said. I liked you taking care of me, too. It was a care that he’d given that hadn’t tried to bare down on me. A subtle care that provided gentle pushes and I believed that Craig was leading me in the right direction.

He was where I wanted to go.

And so leaving, it wasn’t as hard the second time.

“You’ll write me, right?” I just had to make sure.

Craig nodded. We were standing at the mouth of his room. He had one hand on the doorknob and I was leaning against his dresser. It was almost as tall as me. “Take a look out your window sometime. Maybe I’ll send you a message with a blimp.”

I bit the inside of my lip and smiled. “Find an ocean sometime,” I echoed. “Maybe I’ll send you a message in a bottle.”

“Maybe I’ll get a jet and jet stream you my number.”

“Contrails,” I quickly mumbled. He hummed in confusion. “Condensation trails. That’s what a j-jet stream is.”

His chuckle was light, distracted. Both of us were, I think. He looked away, took a breath, and then turned the handle. Before he could get very far, I tapped my knuckles in a soft succession against his dresser to add to our forms of communication. It was goodbye in morse code.

Craig paused, listening, but I wasn’t sure if he understood. I did it one more time just to emphasize that it was morse code, that it was alright if he couldn’t pick up on the meaning.

“Morse code?” When I nodded, he took me by surprise and leaned into me. Our lips brushed and my next breath echoed back against my mouth, pushed away by his own. “Bye, Tweek Tweak.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

Sun, 02 Sep 2012 19:46:00 -0400

Title: The Strange Attraction Syndrome - Chapter Thirty-One
Pairing: Creek
Rating: M
Summary: Ten years is a long time to have an unrequited crush, but Tweek’s wait is just about over. So much for Craig being asexual.
Point of View: Tweek

Come up to meet you, tell you I’m sorry
You don’t know how lovely you are.
I had to find you, tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart

—The Scientist, Coldplay

Tweek’s point of view:

Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up. Craig was snoring next to me—he’s never snored before—and wasn’t even beneath the covers. It looked as though he’d been up all night and finally just decided to pass out carelessly. I wondered if he had.

But then I realized something the exact second that I shifted to get out of bed and whatever he’d been doing was no longer a matter of interest because I was still naked. Suddenly it was a good thing he wasn’t beneath the covers. Near scrambling, I tried not to create as many ripples as possible in the mattress as I made a dash for the floor and searched for my clothes I’d left by the door. As soon as I felt my jeans, they were on my legs—commando, but I was covered.

A sigh escaped me, full of the things that could’ve been: waking up in the morning naked, someone waking us up to find me naked, no covers and sleeping next to Craig naked. Each of them was a terrifying possibility. Humiliation to that degree wouldn’t have been something I could’ve lived down.

Silently, I opened the door and snuck through the crack. I’d promptly fallen asleep after—Sweet Jesus—how had that happened?

Craig’s hands—and his mouth—and those hips—and I’d touched them and he’d touched me and—that was my first orgasm. That was my first fucking orgasm and it had been Craig’s fault.

My head felt unexpectedly light and I put a hand against the wall for balance. It was impossible to think about that right now, impossible to comprehend.

So I turned my thoughts over and focused on why I’d woken up. I just hadn’t had the chance to take my medication or brush my teeth. My entire existence would be messed up for the day if I didn’t get those things done. Already I was getting fidgety with the feeling that nothing was right. Things just felt wrong, even as I sifted through my backpack for my medication that would fix everything.

A sudden click like the tapping of glass on the counter sounded from behind me. Fear penetrated my response and I spun around faster than I could think to run only to see that none of that was necessary. It was just Kenny pouring a shot of what might’ve been vodka. He was hunkered over the small glass so I figured this wasn’t his first.

Once it was filled, he set the bottle down and raised the shot in my direction in cheers before downing it. “Why are you drinking by yourself?” I asked. “Shouldn’t you be in s-someone’s bed?”

“Shouldn’t you go back to Craig’s?” He sniggered, placing the shot glass in the sink. As I returned to my bag to grab what I needed, he began to saunter over. “We heard”—holy fucking shit no no no— “that you passed the fuck out.” Mother of God, I’d nearly died just then. Fear killed people sometimes. It was one of the things I was most afraid of. “Care to explain?”

“Explain what?” My fake nonchalance sounded horrendous. Kenny was clearly very aware that I hadn’t fallen asleep for no reason. He probably already knew that—Oh God, my orgasm knocked me out cold. Was that normal? Maybe it was some chemical reaction in my body. Maybe it had a name like Unconscious-inducing Orgasming. What if it was a rare form of some STD? Where the hell had I gotten an STD from?

Could it be possible that I wasn’t born a virgin? And now my body could create STD’s on its own? Craig wouldn’t want me if I was a walking STD.

I attempted to put an immediate stop to my paranoid theories by swallowing my medication dry.

“How were you so exhausted that you passed out?” Kenny asked. He was standing at the mouth of the kitchen and wasn’t about to let me past so I could brush my teeth. A dim light above the sink allowed me to see the droop of his eyelids, the lazy grin on his lips. I dipped beneath his arm and came up on the other side where I could safely wash my mouth out. “Come on now, Tweekers. Don’t start keeping secrets,” he breathed into my ear.

He caged me with his arms, chest brushing lightly against my back to reenforce the presence of his position. I shook my head to get him away. The last person who’d been there had been Craig and I wasn’t ready to replace those words he’d said to me because I was beautiful to him and maybe that meant that I was getting somewhere.

Kenny waited patiently, resting his forehead against my shoulder as I brushed my teeth for a minimum of two minutes and finished off with chipmunk cheeks full of mouthwash. Once I was done, I patted my lips with a paper towel and set my brush with it on the counter to dry. It was then that I turned around and looked up at the blonde whose hair was in a disarray. There was a musky scent on him that reached beyond the mint of my breath. Bruises were on his neck and showing beneath the unbuttoned portion of his shirt. His lips were red and wet and swollen. He’d just gotten back from having sex.

When he leaned forward, I remained stationed in my spot. Behavior like this—small stolen kisses and playful nips—was common when it came to him. He was nuzzling my jawline with his mouth, scooting his arms closer to frame me tighter, when I started smiling and waited. The time it took was short, just a simple rubbing of his lips down the expanse of my neck, before he pulled away and gazed down at me with a look that said he’d known and he was proud.

“Dude,” Kenny mumbled. “I can’t give you any hickeys; somebody beat me to it.” My smile stretched so wide that it hurt but I couldn’t stop. “What happened between you and him?” He tipped his head slightly to the side, assessing me for whatever signs intuitive people like him looked for. There were the hickeys on my neck and nothing covering my bottom but hastily thrown on jeans. I didn’t think my lips were still raw or my face still flushed by anything but the memory and this conversation. So I had no idea how he guessed it so easily. “You should let me give you an orgasm sometime, alright? I can guarantee it’ll be satisfactory. Craig and I can make a competition out of it.”

“No, I don’t t-think that’s going to happen. Sorry,” I laughed.

“You know, I thought he was pretty energized when we came back in.” It took my saliva a fairly long time to get past my throat. Kenny smiled wryly and nodded his head like that’s right. “Clyde was wondering what was up when you two left. Why you both are always so secluded when you’re together. He thinks you’re stealing his best friend away. I reassured him that you weren’t but I’m not so sure now.”

That was funny. I rolled my eyes and said, “Craig loves Clyde.”

“And you love Craig. Clyde’s just going to have to deal, I guess.”

A dizzying sensation clamped down around my skull. The moment froze for an instant, this terrorizing split second that added onto the day and made it just that much longer and frightening. “Why did you say that?” I asked him.

The blonde’s features narrowed sharply, lips turned up all abused and dangerous. “Because it’s true even though you’re scared to realize it.” Had I wanted to say anything, he wouldn’t have given me the chance, but it wasn’t like I had control over my mouth anyways. I didn’t have much control over anything at that point. It was remarkable that I was still existing at all. “Tweek,” his voice softened at the edges. “How long has this been going on?”

“Eight years.” I sounded like the the scrape of dead leaves on pavement.

“And who was your first crush?” He prompted.

I swear I had gravel for teeth. “Craig.”

“Who else have you ever had a crush on? Felt anything remotely similar to how you do for Craig?”

My head shook numbly, bobbing in a world full of water. “I—Kenny, I don’t—”

Raising a hand, he ruffled my hair and kissed my forehead. “Not many, right? Not even one. Just think about it and I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

He dropped his prison of limbs and I felt robotic—no heart, no head, just rusted joints—as I put my stuff away and headed back to Craig’s room. Halfway there and suspicious of the crack in Clyde’s bedroom door, Kenny reminded me that we’d be leaving tomorrow. By the time I managed to situate Craig beneath the covers and get back into bed, I wasn’t even a robot. I wasn’t anything at all.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I have a lot of curiosity about you, and i hope this doesn't sound like an ofense but, are you are girl or a boy? Ah - you are really amazing and... cute but with a lot of style (?)

Wed, 29 Aug 2012 17:34:54 -0400

I’m probably going to come across as extremely conceited posting these pictures of myself, but since you asked, I might as well prove it ;D

I am a lady (:

I have boobies and butt.

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

Wed, 29 Aug 2012 17:24:00 -0400

Title: The Strange Attraction Syndrome - Chapter Thirty
Pairing: Creek
Rating: M
Summary: Ten years is a long time to have an unrequited crush, but Tweek’s wait is just about over. So much for Craig being asexual.
Point of View: Craig

That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful.

—Edgar Allan Poe

Tweek appeared in my doorway wearing the towel, now damp, around his waist. It was tied off at his side causing the cloth to sag down his hip, pronouncing the protrusion of the bone. He’d ruffled his hair, giving it a quick once-over with the towel so it wouldn’t drip droplets onto his shoulders. His darkened locks were messy, less controlled than they’d been under the water.

Nervously, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “What—uh. What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to sit where you usually sit.” He asked me if I meant in the towel. “Yeah, in the towel. You’re not allowed to put clothes on yet.”

“You’re not—” he spun his hand around to get the words out “—you know, going to draw me nude. Are you?”

It wasn’t easy suppressing my grin. “No. But I can guarantee you at some point I will.” His brows rose and he blinked a few times, tentatively stepping further into my room and shutting the door. He looked terrified, nauseous.

He might’ve tried to smile, but it came out more as a grimace. “W-We’ll see about that.”

When he sat down, I gave him some time to situate himself and the towel before telling him about my semi-spontaneous idea.

“So I have this thing about emotions. I like them—a lot. On other people. They’re not really my thing.” Tweek gave me a look like no shit. “And I’ve kind of been cataloguing yours.” At this, he cocked his head slightly to the side, a very birdlike gesture, eyes alight with curiosity. “There’s one that I’d really like to draw so I want you to feel it. Right now.”

“Okay.” He nodded his head because this he could understand. This wasn’t something out of his comfort zone. Not yet.

My plan wasn’t finished, though. Poor kid had no idea what he’d just agreed to. “Aren’t you wondering what emotion I’m talking about?”

His gaze was suspicious as it assessed me. “You’re not going to beat me up and make me cry are you?”

“Not even close.” I grinned cheekily and that’s when fear began to prod at him. “Guess again.”

“Are you…” he pondered, “going to throw me into a dumpster and make me face my biggest fear?”

I shook my head. “You’re really fucking cold right now.”

“You’re going to tell me that you figured out what’s wrong with me and cure all of my issues?” I just looked at him. “You’re going to knock me out and draw me sleeping?”

“Of course not. I can draw you sleeping whenever I want.”

“I don’t know then, dude!” He gave up. “Just tell me.”

“What’s it called when you’re turned on?” I wanted to hear him say the word.

He gawked at me, puzzled and then baffled and then comprehending.

“Oh,” was the only thing he said for a moment. His reaction was making me feel a mixture of excitement and mischievousness. This was going to be fun. “A—” I nodded my head, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees.

Keep going.

Tweek debated the word before pronouncing it slowly. “A… Arousal?”

His lips moved to form another question, but he never got that far. He let it go prematurely and just stared at me with his big eyes and long lashes.

I wondered how long he was going to ogle at me for. To keep it from reaching an unusual amount of time, I relented and said, “So what do you think?”

“I don’t—I don’t know what you want me to do.” But he was totally going to do it. For whatever reason, I had complete control over this guy. I could literally make him do anything. This was fucking awesome.

Sitting back in my chair, I asked, “You’ve never turned yourself on?”

His cheeks pigmented. “What if I get a b-boner or something?”

“Boners are cool, dude. That means you’re genuinely turned on.” He didn’t like that; he was embarrassed. Damn it. I had to fix my mistake. “I’m not going to draw your boner if you get one. It’s your eyes that I care about.”

It was the pupil dilation and the thick mist that would shroud his green irises. The emotion needed to be strong and if he wasn’t capable of doing it himself, I knew I could do it for him. I didn’t care if he was holding out for some cockblock crush. I’d find a way to turn him on.

Running a hand through is wet locks, he pushed the fringe from his face. “So I just—… I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he laughed. “Okay. You just want me to think of something that’ll turn me on?”

My hands shot up. “Whoa. Let’s not get creepy here. I don’t want you thinking about a thing.”

“I meant someone!” He cried.

“Just checking,” I teased, scooting myself behind my easel. “So I’ll just sit back here and not look at you while you get in the mood.”

“Hey! I—I don’t know what to do.” I peeked around the edge of my paper skeptically. He appeared frazzled sitting there on the edge of my bed in only a loose towel. “I’ve never p-purposefully turned myself on before.”

Then this was about to get pretty goddamn interesting. I returned to my station behind my easel. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel as though he couldn’t do this, because he definitely could—he seemed like the secret wild thing type to me—a black horse—or to get so uncomfortable that he wussed out.

We just needed to remain calm and pretend like this was an everyday occurrence.

“Alright.” I cracked my neck from side to side, relishing in the snaps. “What do you like about guys?” Before he could comment on that, I added, “Dicks are a given. I want to hear what you personally find attractive. What makes a particular guy your type?”

“Like, appearance wise?” It was obvious how scared he was by the tone of his brittle voice. “I—uh.”

Picking up one of my graphite pencils, I drummed it against my knuckles. “Just pick out some details that you always look for.”

For a moment he considered my suggestion. When he was ready to tell me, he said, “Height. I guess I like height. T-Tall, I mean.”

“Okay. We can work with that.” I nodded my head despite the fact that he couldn’t see me. “So think of this tall guy. He’s in this room with you and you’re in your towel and you’re still all wet and fresh from your shower. I know it sounds like I’m describing myself but I promise this guy is all in your head,” I clarified. Tweek muffled an embarrassed giggle or maybe he was choking. “And we’re not in my room. You’re wherever the hell you want to be in your head. What else do you like?”

“Uhm—hips? I like hips.” His hesitance made me smirk.

“Sounds mega hot. Alright; so this guy—he’s a man. He’s a man and he’s tall and his hips are just delectable. He was blessed with the most scrumptious looking V lines. And he’s gay and he’s just for you. How is this sounding?”

Tweek was probably shaking his head right about now in an attempt to maintain his humor or maybe he was still choking. “It sounds good. But I like hands, too.”

Again, I nodded. “What kind of hands? What do they look like?”

He hummed momentarily before saying, “Big hands. Just bigger than mine.”

“Wonderful. Because this dream man of yours has those exact hands. Now don’t tell me, but what are the things this guy does? Think about his hands that are just bigger than yours and think about what you want them to do to you.” I let that digest in his system for a second and then threw out a couple of examples. “Maybe he’s kissing you and his hands are holding your face because he wants you right there and he doesn’t want to stop.” Honestly, I was so good at this I was about to turn myself on. “Where is he touching you?” Creating boners were like my forte. “Maybe you’re not wearing that towel anymore.”

To check my progress, I took another peek around my easel and spotted Tweek. His eyes were cast toward the floor where every now and then he’d blink slowly. He looked like he was concentrating, cheeks lightly dappled pink. It was like he’d only just noticed me and started in his seat a bit, blush darkening a shade. I asked him how he was doing and he answered me with: “Oh, I am so turned on. Major boner over here, dude.” But there was a shady aspect to his eyes that he couldn’t hide. It wasn’t enough to satisfy me, but it would work for something else.

This was good. I could take advantage of that pinch of darkness. I’d play his game just to ease him into it. “How turned on?”

The blonde rolled his eyes to emphasize just how greatly this imaginary man had impacted him. “So hard, dude, let me tell you.”

“Damn. That sounds pretty fucking hard.” Pretending like I had absolutely no ulterior motive, I stood up from my chair and took a step in Tweek’s direction. “Quite an extreme boner right there.”

“Oh yeah.” The blonde’s nod was exaggerated. “Yeah.”

You have no clue what I’m about to do to you. I wandered closer and stopped just before his legs hanging off the bed. Though he’d scrubbed his hair, scant drops of water collected on his shoulders. One drizzled down his chest, stopping short past his collarbone.

He looked up at me and realized that I’d moved so near. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

His eyes widened for a quick instant before he could think of a retort. “W-Well, I’m not lying,” was all he could come up with. I grinned down at him.

“I think I’d better check. Just in case.” The smirk wiped clear off Tweek’s face. He was malleable as I urged him to stand—pressed close between me and the bed—and dropped my hands to the waistline of his towel. His body understood and his chest began to heave but his brain was slow to register and it wasn’t until I’d slipped my fingers beneath the towel that recognition and alarm registered on his features. Inching a little lower, my digits grazed his soft flesh.

It was as though he had to brace himself suddenly. His fingers of one hand dug into the nape of my neck while the rest latched around my wrist. “Craig—” At first I thought he meant to stop me, but when I tested his restraint, my palm was able to slide down his thigh. He inhaled sharply, and when I traced my hand back up his skin, closer to his crotch, it came out shaky. He let go of me, fingertips trailing up my arm to wrap around my neck. “This…” I bowed my head against his mouth to hear him whisper, damp and dry hair mingling. “This is just for your art?” Nodding, I repeated his question. Just for my art. ”Okay,” he breathed.

Immediately I sought to palm his flesh. He was warm in my hand. At my back, his fingers tightened. This would be a first for him. I was interested to see how he’d react, what noises he’d make, how long it’d take him to lose control, whether or not he really was a black horse. Wetting my lips, I let them brush against Tweek’s cheek, palm rubbing in a reoccurring rhythm as I tempted him into hardening. He turned his chin up and I kissed the corner of his mouth, skin soaking up the heat of his sporadic breath. As he bit down on his bottom lip, face flushing a modest shade of rose, he shifted forward. His bare chest knocked against mine and I wondered if he liked the texture of my flannel, if he liked the friction.

His length grew and I accommodated it by wrapping my fingers around him. He began panting a notch louder, nudging our mouths together. Because his lips were already parted, I dipped my tongue between them and licked at his own. Wet, his tongue pushed back, running flat against mine before rolling in a slick haste. To get closer, he lifted his heels and teetered toward my body, arousal thrusting into my hand. He had to break away to breath harshly, clamping down on his lip crudely as his shoulders shuddered. I nuzzled my nose against his jaw, kissing the underside of it just before nipping at the same spot. His pulse was racing.

I wrapped my lips around the beating section and sucked softly, unsure of what he’d like. It wasn’t often that I was gentle, but if that’s what Tweek wanted, I’d adjust to his needs. When his head tipped back, I formed a trail of open mouthed kisses down the column of his throat. The further I pumped him and the firmer he grew, the more his cover loosened and sagged. There was a point where it became a hassle and I removed my hand to untie the towel. He reacted fast, fingers returned to my wrist, this time to bind me. “I—I don’t want to be the only one naked,” the blonde rapidly explained. I offered to take off my shirt and had this been any other circumstance, I don’t think he would’ve agreed to it. But he kind of had a boner and the rules just weren’t the same when you took that into account because shirtless Craig totally equalled naked Tweek.

Nodding his head, he released my limb. “I’ll take my shirt off first.” Goddamn thing was buttoned, though. I didn’t know why I’d chosen to wear it today of all days. This was the one time when I needed clothes that I cold make quick work of. The buttons slid through their holes easily enough, Tweek watching the entire time, and when the two halves split apart, I got just what I’d wanted. His pupils dilated considerably, enamoring me. I shrugged my flannel the rest of the way off and didn’t even hear it land on the floor around our feet.

I wondered if I had the hips he liked. My bones were fairly prominent and my V lines were subtle indentions. Before I could untie the blonde’s towel, he reached out and cradled my waist. His lips were parted, puffed slightly, and he licked just the bottom one as he ghosted his thumbs over the angle of my hips. I tipped my head back, losing focus of my room for a moment when I let the sensation of his touch fill me. That…had felt rather good. He leaned forward, forehead pressed against my chest. He ran the pads of his thumbs over my skin a second time causing my stomach to clench at the seductive tickle. My eyelids fluttered and for a few seconds I completely forgot what I was supposed to be doing.

Tweek didn’t seem to mind, focused on my abdomen instead. He brushed his fingers along my happy trail, traced it back up to my navel. I grabbed his chin and brought him up to kiss me. His hands traveled up my chest, tangled in my hair. I reached down and untucked the ends of his towel. This time I heard it, and just the automatic thought that this blonde that I was obsessed with drawing was naked distracted me all the way out of reality. It felt like none of this was real as I touched the outer and inner curves of his thighs, pulled him tight against me and held him there, listened to him make this noise like a whisper into my hair. He was on the tips of his toes, arms to the elbows around my neck, but I just couldn’t stand down, was unwilling to give him leverage. I felt primal—I felt like a fucking animal, dominating.

Our mouths were nothing but tongue and breath and saliva. It was wet, smooth, and inviting. The blonde’s erection rubbed against my crotch causing a hitch to stunt his choppy inhale. We pulled away and made eye contact in unison. His eyes were nearly black and I knew that mine had to have been, too. “Craig,” he panted, digging his nails into my skin. My body shivered at the bite, eliciting in the short pain. He came closer and rubbed himself against me earnestly. Another short noise escaped his lips, enticing me. These sounds of his were too fleeting, too scarce.

The next time I spoke it was in low tones, husky in the back of my throat. “You like hands?” I asked, dragging mine down the expanse of his sides. He looked startled at first, exhaling in surprise, until he nodded his head. My fingers gripped his hips tightly, kneading into his flesh. “Where did you imagine them?” Tweek swallowed thickly, whimpering sweetly before grabbing either of my hands and maneuvering them over his ass. My stomach clenched impossibly tight. When I grabbed him, squeezing and thrusting him against me, a broken moan escaped his lips. His fingers returned to my hair, scrabbling for purchase as I rocked him into my hips.

“Craig,” he said again. I slid one of my hands beneath his cheek and hiked his leg onto my waist. “Ah—” He arched his back, eyes shut tight. His nails raked down my arms and I just couldn’t fucking stop. My clothed hips against his bare caused friction and he liked it; he kept making noises and they all sounded so goddamn attractive to my ears.

“Fuck.” I lifted him onto my bed. Nobody has ever been on my bed like this and still I put him right there and he pulled on my arms to bring me to him. He let me between his legs and hugged me with his knees. The blonde nibbled on my lower lip and roved his palms down my back, slipped them around my waist and hooked a few of his fingers through my belt loops. My body bared down over his and we were lavishing each other’s tongues when one of his hands slid around to my front and cupped me through my jeans. Fuck.

Automatically I began to fumble with my button and zipper, undoing them so I could grab Tweek’s hand and introduce it to my dick. Through my boxer-briefs his palm had a luxurious warmth to it. I dropped my forehead to his, watching his response as he shuddered beneath me and I honestly think he just about came, moaning this needy sound that brought my fingers around his length.

A thought occurred to me, and I knew just what he needed before the orgasm of his first hand job. I dropped my head to the side and sidled my lips in close to his ear, just waiting for the right moment. His hips began reacting to my pumping fingers, instinctual in their shallow thrusts. My thumb dabbed at the head of his erection, smearing precum and spurring him on.

The right moment was the one clear instant where Tweek lost control. It was when his orgasm hit him. He thrust into my hand, clawed at my back, and tugged me closer by the shoulders; he arched his back, spread his legs; he moaned my name and repeated it multiple times in a cracked tone of voice that made my spine tingle. It was all done with abandon.

So I whispered in his ear: “Tweek.” And I hadn’t planned it, but I also said, “I think you’re beautiful.”

His lashes were long and dark over his eyes, bleary and fluttering. It was such a different light, a murky light, that I found in them like the beam of a lighthouse splitting through the fog. He came half into my hand, half on my stomach, but that was okay. I didn’t mind body fluids the same way he did.

Once the blonde had taken a few rejuvenating breaths, this small smile appeared on his lips that I associated with how accomplished he must’ve felt. Neither of us had expected that much. I’d taken it as a possibility but I had honestly meant to stop. The lust was gone from his eyes and I’d have to draw it from memory now.

Or we could do this again and maybe I’d have more restraint next time. That and I had a pressing boner and a palm full of semen. The moment I moved, Tweek spoke up, soft-toned and whimsy sounding. “Did you mean it?”

Swallowing, I grabbed the edge of the blanket to cover him up and attempted to refrain was looking. “Yes,” I admitted, getting down on an elbow to tuck him in. “You are very beautiful.”

His smile grew and, sleepily, he asked, “Can we do this all the time?”

I smirked. “Sure, let’s make it a habit. I’m flattered to know that you want me to jack you off all the time.”

Again, I made to move, and again he stopped me. “Stay with me for a c-couple of minutes.”

I looked from my wet hand to the bulge in my pants. “Okay,” I grumbled, dropping my head against his chest. He sifted his fingers through my hair.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

THE STRANGE ATTRACTION SYNDROME

northernfanart: northewind: I couldn’t sleep so I doodled a...

Could you give me a brief description of how exactly both Tweek and Craig appear in your story? Your descriptions in-story are beautifully written, and I love them so much. I would love to have a straight forward reference, though :)

You are Tweek! The female version, anyway. But there's not much of a difference. I've already imagined him to look abnormally feminine. Anyhow, you're both fucking lovely. Fantastic story, I'm on chapter 20.

Without this story...I'm dying. D:

Your story is totally ace, man. Like, seriously. And I don't care if I sound like a creeper, but your face is also super ace(I didn't mean to rhyme but whatever). Kay bye~.

Lady, you are beautiful and gogeous.

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

i love this story so much! do you know when you're putting up chapter 9? i can't wait

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

I have a lot of curiosity about you, and i hope this doesn't sound like an ofense but, are you are girl or a boy? Ah *-* you are really amazing and... cute but with a lot of style (?)

The Strange Attraction Syndrome

I have a lot of curiosity about you, and i hope this doesn't sound like an ofense but, are you are girl or a boy? Ah - you are really amazing and... cute but with a lot of style (?)