I finished drawing the eighth penis as a tentacle for this shity teacher's caricature on the back of my notebook. I'm sure that's as close as she'd ever be to a cock in her life, because apparently, having in mind her morning monologues, her success with men was inversely proportional to her monthly expenses on horrendous clothing.
I let air go, relieved by the bell ringing.
"Finally" I heard Clyde by my side. I looked at Token in disdain, watching him close his notebook overflowing with perfect notes, with titles in red and italics, every stupid line made with a ruler. I wrinkled my nose in annoyance over it, then turned to the empty desk to my right.
"One week," he said, putting his perfectly neat pencil case in his briefcase.
"One week" I repeated bored.
"Do you even care?"
"Why should I care?"
"I thought you wouldn't be such a son of ..." I growled interrupting, taking my notebook more desecrated than Kenny's ass to get away, but …
"Tucker" our dear cock-head teacher ... "Craig" called again. I sighed heavily looking up at her deformed face, distorted by lenses of absurd thickness, now scrutinizing me from the edge of my desk. It was hard to hear her coming with her stupid orthopedic shoes.
"Yes?" If it wasn't because I backed up in time, the whore would have hit me with whatever it was she wanted to give me, I took it.
"For your friend, Tweak, I am trying not to involve the parents, but if he continues to miss classes, I will be forced to call them" I looked at the letter one more time, and then looked back at the teacher.
"Why the hell ... why do I have to deliver the letter myself?" She frowned almost immediately, and I avoided with all my strength to lift my middle finger.
"Because Mr. Mackey doesn't like to see you in detention," and the bitch said no more before turning to the exit. I put the letter aside in a rough way and rested my chin on my fist-shaped hand, leaving only my middle finger as a support "I hope you're not making making any obscene gesture, Mr. Tucker" I didn't bother to hide it.
"No ma'am ... bitch" I murmured when I saw her leave.
My two dear ‘friends’ were just watching the fucking scene fascinated.
"You know she sends you because everyone thinks you still fuck each other, right?" And Clyde's great comments were not delayed a fucking second. I looked for his crappy smile.
"You have a gift. Every time you open your mouth you fuck people's humor, it's admirable” I remarked with overflowing sneer and feigned smile. He curled his lips in pleasure.
"He is insulting you, Clyde," I rolled my eyes at Token's interference.
Time to take a fucking breath.
I took my suitcase getting up from there, crumpling the letter with the same tedium with which I received it, to put it in my coat pocket.
"Ow, son of ..."
"See you, fuckers" and I said goodbye before the genius of the group managed to gesture his insult.
I looked at the fucking door with no idea what to do.
I had to go to the cafe, his parents would be there, but the ideal thing was to give it to him directly ... although Mr. and Mrs. Tweak should know that he was missing classes, right?
I knocked on the door.
I looked around again, without a fucking clue what to do with my life at this point. feeling the paper in my pocket, searching for something in his window but there was nothing.
I knocked again and yes, nothing for the second time and ... I'm not what many would describe as someone patient, so I just took that letter out and slipped it under the door. I flipped the bird towards his window and turned around.
But you see, Token, although it may not seem like it, is the greatest son of a bitch I know, because it's like a black Jiminy Cricket or some shot like that ... and maybe everything was in my head and his words were my excuse to move that rotten piece In me called empathy, but shit, pulling up with his fuking speech about friendship magic tomorrow would be a pain in the ass if I didn't check that tweak was alive at least.
I was halfway to my house by the time I decided to retrace my steps. I would just insist a little more.
I jumped into the backyard waiting for the door to be open or something, but no, closed.
I sighed looking for my driver license to do some crafting with the lock.
I managed to open it without much effort.
The place was silent, his parents must be working luckily. I looked around for something that gave me a hint of his week of absence, but, well, it was kinda stupid to look for them in the kitchen.
I saw a cup, some black coffee at the base and a pot with pills next to it… I didn't bother to read the name; It was not necessary to read the label to know that they were from Tweek.
I walked to the door to take the letter, I needed a decent excuse for my well-intentioned break-in.
And after reaching the second floor some music became prominent.
And I faced the loneliness of the hallway, its closed door, and a poorly written sign, "Keep out" hammered roughly and crooked in the door.
I knocked ... knocking today was not working for shit. And the son of a bitch turned the volume up.
Who the hell he thought I was? His parents?.
I growled in exasperation, formulating the idea of throwing the envelope under his door once more, but now curiosity had joined the feast of emotions in my chest.
I circled the knob and surprise, locked. I took out my card once again, all these houses were so similar to each other that if you knew one, with some tricks, you knew them all.
I pushed then, the blinds were closed so it took me a bit to get used to the lack of light, it was about five o'clock, and that the son of a bitch hadn't let fresh air seep in what seemed like years was no help to disguise this stink of adolescence. Jesus, it was fucking depressing.
I looked for the light, tried to turn it on but it didn't, would the light bulb be blown? Or will he have loosened it? whatever.
The walls were packed with ... notes, 'Everything will be fine, Everything has a solution' 'Nothing lasts forever' 'The problem is smaller than you think' 'Just get up one more time, and another, and another ...' and continued repeating itself, written with different pencils, colors, probably at different times too. It was a sequence, or an account of his falls until he apparently lost his nerve and decided to tear half a sheet.
'Everything is in your head' 'The world, your friends, your parents ... understand?' 'You are not alone', 'Crying is fine', 'Suicide is not the solution, is it cowardice?' 'You are wrong' ' Crying does not work '' It is you who is wrong, not the world '' The medicine helps '' The medicine makes you brave '' The medicine makes you happy '' The medi ... There were many of those.
And then there were the photos, his face on happy images, on successful characters, on happy people surrounded by even more happy people, badly trimmed, all badly trimmed.
And glued to the ceiling, probably the first thing you would see when closing or opening your eyes, were huge signs in bright colors, 'Tomorrow will be a new day' 'Today will be a good day' ... and more, much more, but those were the more remarkable.
The place was a mess, and in turn curiously organized; toys, a thousand and one toys, lego tokens, huge multicolored figures, fragile and at the same time visibly chaotic in their same complexity, very similar to him. How did he get the pulse to do that and not to trim something? Maybe the difference in purpose.
There were endless action figurines, I only recognized some; all were arranged in perfect shelves by color, size, shape ...
And finally, the medications; they stood in a long line of packs, jars, tablets, all as foundations of a perfect and whitish drug castle on the nightstand, some pills and other empty bottles taking the role of small architectural details, chimneys, windows ...
Did he take them?
I processed the lyrics of the song for the first time, not knowing what to feel about it, I am not emotional unless it is about me ... I am fucking selfish in other words, and what does it matter? Adolescence is the greatest expression of egocentrism that exists in this shit called society, it was only enough to look at this room to know that Tweek was just discovering that, interned in himself, in his paranoia or whatever he was going through.
"Tweek" I called a second time to feel the music muted before the next song began to play. It was not long between my call and a loud scream filling the place, it moved so fast that it was hard for me to follow him with my eyes.
“GAH!” From a small ball wrapped in blankets, it became a huge bundle of nerves stuck against the wall. His chest rose and fell exaggeratedly and erratically while his tremors seemed to reach levels never seen before, his eyes were open looking in the dark in an almost pestileous paranoia, because even I was scared of his reaction "W-w-what the f-f-fu-fuck ..."
"Tweek, it's Craig!" I shouted, and
as if my shout didn't work for shit other than to fuck him even more, he cringed through the pile of blankets like some kind of small animal about to collapse.
His tremors did not diminish, they never did, but his breathing resumed a healthy rhythm, at least for someone like him.
His eyes watched me, and I found myself under the scrutiny of tiny tiny black spheres, almost invisible in what, under this air, looked like a dying blue about to break into insanity.
"C-c-craig" he looked around for something, I don't know what exactly but he soon found himself in front of the castle of pills, shaking too much to take the bottle in the gap.
I took it for him to read the label and his eyes followed my movements with curious patience, with prominent dark circles, with an almost faded trail of tears.
Esci ... something.
"G-g-gimme ... give them to me" he extended his trembling hand.
"How many?" He did not answer, just looked down, letting his hand drop in the same way.
I extended them to him not very sure of it. He took them with this childish awkwardness opening the small container between tremors, he held it against his lips in search of stability to take several pills, I don't know how many… and for a fragment of time, while putting the pills in their place, in the tower from the doping castle, his pulse remained static.
It wasn't long before he looked up and a faint smile ran down his bright face and ... I wouldn't dare to say false, it was real, more real than any I've done so far. The pupils grew in joy, as if they were running in my direction on a crescendo of excitement. He bit his lip, but in the middle of his strange happiness a tear arose.
I was going to open my lips, to ask but …
"I'm fine" while still sleepy, he quickly cleaned himself up in clumsy movements "what are you doing here?" His smile just didn't go away. I looked for the letter in my coat to pass it to him, he looked at it, then at me ... "W-what is it?"
"A note from the teacher" his smile fell for a fragment of time "It's been a week Tweek" I noted the obvious, but
he seemed so lost, so disoriented that ... his gaze immediately looked for me in surprise.
"One week ?!" a strong tick forced him to duck his head, he didn't take the letter, he just covered his face for a few seconds.
"Do you want me to read it?" He nodded.
I sighed, really not knowing what to think about all these strange displays of ... something.
I quickly read that thing, something difficult with the crap letter that teacher had.
"Basically it says that if you don't go on Monday they will call your parents, and if they don't go then they will expel you" he shrugged , then sinking his face even further into his hands.
"O-Okay" he murmured, I almost couldn't hear him, but did it matter? I had already satisfied my curiosity.
He was apparently screwed up, the dark circles in his eyes, that absurd pallor, the fact that he had apparently not consumed anything different from pills and coffee since his parents left, there was not much more than that, so ... I could leave now.
"Good luck" I turned to get away. God, I would have to jerk off tonight to be able to sleep well after seeing something so depressing.
"Craig ..." I let air go ... come on, don't absorb me into your hole of sadness Tweek, I though, but I still turned to face him.
"Yes?" And his gaze lifted, his imperturbable and delicate smile and his face lit. A tear fled as if a thousand reasons were trapped inside him to stop smiling ...
"Am I a defect?" The tremor in his voice, the pain in his throat was almost palpable in the air, and Jesus, I really sucked at this.
"I don't know." Frustration ran down his gaze.
"I'm wrong? It's me? Is it me who is wrong Craig? ”His tone lost strength and he gained fear with each word ending in a plea, seeking to hear what he wanted to hear from someone he considered 'sincere' ... and because I am 'sincere' or some shit just as twisted, nothing good would come out of my mouth in situations like this.
"The world is not going to change for you Tweek, so who has to get used to the world is you" his smile gave a few millimeters and his orbs fell into his hands as if he had heard that a thousand times, this voice repeating in his head ' I know, I know, I know, I already knew 'in response to my words.
“Can I be fixed?” As a last attempt, his last daily dose of courage to ask for help from someone other than his own demons, he spoke.
"I don't know" and I swear to God I'm terrible at this, I never know what to say, and when I know, it's most likely not what the other person wants to hear. He looked up then, with even more frustration and dejection in his eyes. He bit his lip in tremors and the smile was disfigured in overflowing sadness while the dying sapphire of his gaze seemed to overflow with weakness. His gaze immediately ran to the castle tower and I did not feel in the position of stopping him. He took the jar one more time but his tremors led him to completely destroy the carefully constructed structure, he did not seem to care, the only thing that before his tired eyes looked primordial was to bring the small jar to his lips.
It took even more but in what seemed like an attack of rage he threw it away and quickly covered himself again on his sheets …
"J-j-j-jus-just g-g ..." he growled frustrated and didn't speak again ... no, jacking off just once would not be enough to get this out of my head tonight.
I couldn't help looking at the ceiling and not thinking about his stupid signs ... it was already two in the morning and I couldn't sleep, because unfortunately for my psyche, I'm a shitty human being, and unfortunately for my psyche, I've been his friend at least for seven years, two of whom we pretended to be a couple.
I growled in disgust coming out of my bed, looking for my coat, sometimes I regretted not being the son of a bitch that everyone thought I was.
I went down the window. My father had this strange hobby of sticking a dildo up his ass every morning to walk around with a shitty mood the rest of the day, I just hoped that was not a family thing;
so going out the door was not an option.
I walked down the street, the world seemed engulfed in a disturbing silence, and some snow but not too much fell slowed by breezes with no definite direction. I left footprints with the first boots I found and cursed the absence of gloves. I adjusted my hat before jumping into his garden a second time in twenty-four hours, a new record in ... in a month?
Several times I helped him escape during the night for one of our many teenage adventures. A week ago he was fine, I didn't understand very well how ... anyway, I wouldn't open the door this time, I didn't want to be mistaken for a thief so I decided to climb to the second floor.
As always his window had a thousand and one locks, but as always he opened them with this key that he had given me years ago when I stayed here to sleep, when we pretended to be boyfriends and my parents forced me to make sleepovers with him but I simply did not want .
He gave me a key so that I could escape and return before dawn, and thus avoid awkward situations. Sometimes we just escaped together.
I opened and entered. I didn't see him but everything was in place, even the castle emerged from its ruins of spilled drugs, erected as perfect as it was in the afternoon before he threw it away. I closed putting the last lock in place for the sake of his paranoia, and walked the place a second time ... where was he?
“Tweek? it's Craig ”I repeated the same words I said in the afternoon and a sigh from under the bed caught my attention.
I rolled my eyes and crouched down to find his blue eyes looking tired in my direction, the memory of his smile now far, really far away ... "Do you want your pills?" I asked denoting his mortified expression. Resting his cheek against the floor, he was upside down shaking, this time a little more, probably from the cold.
"O-o-only the ten percent are pills, the other ninety are placebos," he muttered, I lay on the floor …
"T-there are no razors, knives ... at home, my father doesn't keep his toolbox here anymore"
“And of every one hundred pills, at least one will make me vomit. Like the solute of ethyl alcohol… just in case something bad happens ”he spoke between stuttering and some other strange groan escaping his lips, babble… he closed his eyes, sighed deeply and did his best to avoid one of his many ticks “I feel calm… now, here ”
“Before you were fine. a week ago, a month ago, a year ago… ”he opened his eyes once more, something told me that he hadn't slept in days, he looked extremely exhausted.
"Everything ... everything is in my head, sometimes it comes out, sometimes this happens" he stuttered. tremors painted his voice, spasms for his continuous tics, likewise fatigue ... and many more things that, probably my lack of experience with such broken people, did not let me see "Sometimes it comes out ... but one week, one week is too much" he muttered looking for my eyes ... vestiges of forgotten crying began to renew in their eyes “It's so frustrating, not knowing what the damn problem is, not knowing to what extent everything is justified, not knowing where the problems end, where my need to feel bad begins , and where… I don't know, I don't know anything, I'm so lost, I don't know what to do, I feel like I'm drowning, I feel like I'm trapped in my very inability to be happy, I feel so weak… so weak ”he bit his lip in frustration, probably for not being able to speak without tripping over every two words, or because it seemed impossible for him to hold back the tears, the cold. So many things, I didn't even know what to answer, I didn't even know why I was here ... fucking Token.
I just kept silent as he rolled himself between a blanket he carried with him.
“Sometimes… sometimes everything is fine, I feel that my life is perfect, I feel that I am well, I feel that… I can fight, like that time years ago when I could act so well in front of everyone next to you but… but I shouldn't relying on anyone to feel that way, it's me but… when it's just me, how can I fight? ”he sipped, wiped his face awkwardly with his blanket and looked for my eyes once more, his gaze was almost lost in his messy golden threads running down his face in a chaotic way as usual “I am so… flimsy, I fear so many things, I fear to live, I fear to speak, I fear to get bored, I fear… to feel, I fear to try… I do not like people, I fear to leave my room and ... my room terrifies me, I am terrified of dying and ... I don't know what I will do when I go out there, to the world, I don't know how I'm going to deal with ... everything, Craig. I feel that at any moment I will simply fall, and I will not be able to get up again. I don't even know if I try it anymore, I don't know if it's me, but it's me, it must be me ... the world is not wrong, I am an infinitely small minority with each passing day and I'm broken ... what do I do? Tell me what to do because I don't… because I'm afraid of living ”he looked for my gaze, he looked for something else that I could never give him.
"Do pretty words work for you?" I asked not really sure about it.
He denied with a swift movement.
"Every morning ... I repeat exactly the same words written on my walls, even the most hidden of them in my head, every damn morning before I open my eyes and it doesn't work, it just doesn't work" he didn't look at me anymore, he just directed his eyes to nowhere, far from me "But you can try ... maybe if they come from someone different from myself" I took a breath. Did I already say that I was terrible at this?
“Everything will be fine, most people are stupid but there are decent people, you know? that will understand you ... not me, not really, but even if they don't understand you, it doesn't matter, right? or I don't know ... I don't know what to say, but I guess it's okay to fall ... I mean, it probably doesn't feel good but ... but it's not a defect, and even if it is, defect is the same definition of human being, right? .. ”he smiled, not as real as the one caused by his stupid medicine but…
"You are terrible" I growled in tedium, that happens when I try, I fuck it up
"Did it work?" He denied erasing his smile as if it never existed.
"Hey," I closed my locker, taking with me the notebook I nicknamed as Kenny, and then met the owner of the greeting.
"Token" and I continued on my way to the classroom, he followed me.
“You went to his house on Friday, right? How was it? ”I rolled my eyes.
“What if you go? Or are you too busy touching Nicole's ass? ”He sighed in response. We had classes together so we entered the same room.
"I went, nobody answered the door" I snorted. walking to the back of the classroom.
“And you left?” I sat down, he took the seat in front of me, just for the moment, as soon as classes started he would go to the front row with Wendy and Kyle. That was his natural habitat, at least he had evaded the braces, the magnifying glasses and the acne… for now.
"Of course I left, unlike you, I know that a closed door means they don't want me inside" oh, I had so many arguments against that right now; But a shout attracted our attention.
Tweek had run into Cartman, almost ran towards us after he was in his usual tremor, paranoia in his gaze. The fat ass just rolled his eyes and continued on his way and I ... I didn't think he would come, he looked so normal ... for his terms.
"Tweek?" He took a small leap, turning towards us.
“My God, Cartman is getting bigger. Shit. ”He spoke between stuttering and even more tremors, Token laughed softly.
"Fatter is the word" Token stood up, placed his hand on the shoulder of our paranoid friend "I'm glad you're back Tweek" and returned to his seat in the front ...
I still didn't know very well what to say, the person on Friday looked so fucking ... fucked up compared to this one, and this one already looked pretty shitty, it was really weird.
He took a seat to my right as usual, he kept silent.
"Are you okay?" I didn't bother to look at him, I already felt really stupid with my failed Saturday attempt.
"Yes" I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He didn't look at anything in particular, just the pile of scratches on his desk, running his eyes through them as if they somehow helped him isolate himself from something ... I didn't know what exactly.
"Sure?" He looked at me and lowered his eyes to his hands so fast that I hardly noticed it, he let out a strange whimper for tedious ticks and trembling air.
"My problem ... is not as big as it seems, everything is fine" and he just forced a smile looking for my gaze, reproducing the words on his walls; but I already knew how useless all that was for him ...
Tell me, what could I do? I was not one of his beloved pills, nor an old man in his eighties with all the answers in the world, nor a psychologist, just a stupid teenager, a vassal of the most selfish stage of the human being.
"Okay" I couldn't do anything for him "If you say so" so I believed him.