Chapter Text
Three months later
“And are you sure you have everything?” Tweek fretted. He poked his nose into the cardboard box Token held to his chest, as if he’d be able to spot that one important thing his friend had forgotten to pack.
“I’m sure,” Token humoured him. “This is the last box. I double-checked everything.”
“I told you he had it covered,” Craig said from where he lounged across the couch, the tv remote balanced on his chest. He was pretending to be indifferent, but Tweek knew he was just as sad to see Token leave as the rest of them, especially seeing as they had only recently reconnected.
“And you’ll phone to let us know you arrived?”
“Yes, Mom.” Token rolled his eyes, but after the year they’d had, he didn’t tease Tweek’s concern too much. He understood where it came from. They all did. “And you guys will be okay?”
“With this nice dig you’ve left us? We’re all set,” Craig said, standing up and gesturing around the apartment.
Token had signed the lease to his luxurious apartment over to Craig and Tweek two days prior. Tweek, of course, had panicked that they wouldn’t be able to afford the rent. Craig assured him they had it covered, and the blond decided against questioning just where the money would be coming from. He trusted Craig enough to be safe in the knowledge that it wouldn’t be anything too illegal.
“And are you sure it was wise to leave the pack in Cartman’s care?” This must have been the fourth time Token had asked the question now. Tweek understood his concerns—he certainly had his own—but making Eric Cartman honorary Alpha was the best thing he could have done. For one, Cartman would have probably killed him for the title. Knowing the manipulative bastard, he would have played the long and sneaky game, waiting until Tweek least suspected it. That was way too much pressure. Also, as terrifying as it was to admit, Cartman would definitely make a better leader than Tweek. Sure, there was the worry that he would abuse his new powers, but with Tweek unable to officially hand over the title of Alpha without dying, he would always be able to step in if Cartman ever decided to take things too far. After all, Cartman didn’t have much choice but to obey official orders. It was a power Tweek was conflicted about. Power over Eric Cartman was both appealing and terrifying in its own right. Tweek felt it best to stay well clear of it unless absolutely necessary.
“Nngh!” Tweek gave a violent twitch at the thought, and Craig, instead, took it upon himself to answer.
“We’ll keep a sharp eye on him. Besides, Lizzie is insanely loyal to Tweek, so she’ll report anything unusual.” Tweek shivered at the mention of Lizzie. He was not a supporter of her being anywhere near South Park after what she put him through, but, unfortunately, Craig was right. Since he became Alpha, she had shown unwavering loyalty, which was not something Tweek could afford to give up. With the deal they’d struck, he barely had to see her anyway. She reported directly to Craig.
Token hummed but didn’t argue further. He readjusted the box in his arms—he’d already refused Craig’s help—and flashed a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. He hadn’t been quite the same since Clyde had died. None of them had. Tweek hoped that getting away from South Park was the answer Token needed. It had certainly helped Stan, who had quit college and gone to stay with his sister the month before.
Kenny and Butters had visited him the previous week. Stan was still quiet, clearly mourning, but his mental health had improved drastically since getting away from where it had all happened and the people involved—namely, Cartman.
“Want us to go down with you?” Craig asked.
“Nah, that’s okay.” Token slid the cardboard box onto the nearest available surface and turned back to his two friends. “You two will be fine, right?”
“Nngh… Well, you know me,” Tweek said, shrugging indifferently. It was a bad joke; Token did know Tweek, and he knew he was a mess incapable of looking after himself.
Token reached out and ruffled Tweek’s wild mane. “You’ll be alright, Tweekers. You’ve become stronger.”
It was true. Tweek had become stronger. He wasn’t sure he could ever return to the trembling mess Kenny found hiding in his cupboard, what felt like forever ago. Even if Craig disappeared again, Tweek didn’t think he would ever revert. That just wasn’t who he was anymore.
Although, as Tweek side-glanced at his tall boyfriend, he was fairly certain Craig wasn’t planning on disappearing again any time soon.
“You better look after him,” Token warned Craig when he turned away from the blond. “If I hear otherwise, I won’t be afraid to whoop your ass.”
“I think you’d have to get in line,” Craig said. “Tweek has become rather popular.” He smiled fondly at his boyfriend before turning back to Token, suddenly serious. “You needn’t worry, though. I’m not going anywhere.”
Token nodded and then hugged Craig.
Moments later, the door of Token’s ex-apartment—now belonging to Tweek and Craig—shut, leaving the two alone and Token, hopefully temporarily, out of their lives.
They watched the closed door in silence for a moment.
Tweek twined his fingers with Craig’s. “He’ll be alright.”
“Of course he will. He’s Token.”
With one last look at the door, they turned and made their way over to the couch, sitting with their legs pressed together.
Things were so different now. Just months ago, Craig hadn’t been seen in South Park for years, and Tweek was a mess because of it. It was weird to think he’d been that person now, now that he’d been forced to grow up and find inner strength.
They’d lost and gained people along the way, and it broke Tweek’s heart to think of the lives stolen before their time. He couldn’t help but wonder what he might’ve done differently if he could go back, but, unfortunately, that could never be. That was too much of a stretch, even for South Park. Kyle and Clyde were gone. His parents were gone. No matter how much Tweek wished otherwise, these people weren't coming back.
They wouldn’t want their loved ones to suffer, though. Tweek was sure of that. All of them would want everyone to move on, smile and laugh again, and find happiness.
So that’s what Tweek was doing. He squeezed Craig’s hand, smiling as Craig mimicked the action.
“So…” Tweek glanced around the apartment. It would be weird living with Craig. Tweek had only ever lived with his parents, but after everything that had happened, he had decided to sell their house. He’d refused to even step back inside the place. It had been Kenny and Craig who had packed up his belongings.
As for Tweek Bros, the blond wasn’t sure what to do. Working in a coffee shop was the only job he knew how to do, but everything about the place reminded him of his parents. And, despite Craig’s assurances that they could afford the apartment, Tweek needed a job. If nothing else, he needed to keep busy.
Karen had suggested rebranding, making the place his own, and Tweek was definitely considering it. It seemed like a lot of work, though, and a lot of pressure on top of it. Then again, Craig, Kenny, and Butters had all offered to help run the place with him, so whatever decision he made, he wouldn’t be in it alone.
He’d never have to be alone again.
“So,” Craig echoed in his monotonous voice.
“What now?”
Craig didn’t say anything. He nudged Tweek’s knee with his own.
Tweek didn’t know why he was so nervous. As Craig’s knee knocked his, he cried out and jumped to his feet, pacing the room. Craig watched him. If he was confused or hurt by the reaction, he didn’t show it. Then again, Craig had always been good at showing little to no emotion.
“Gah! Do you remember when you first asked me to move in with you?” The question caught Tweek by surprise. He hadn’t realised he was going to ask it until it was coming out of his mouth.
“Of course,” Craig said. “It was in this very apartment.”
Tweek remembered it clearly. He remembered how he’d freaked out at the question, terrified that something would go wrong. Maybe he still had those fears? Maybe that was why he felt so nervous.
“Clyde was dead against it,” he recalled.
“I think he’d have changed his mind,” Craig said softly, dropping his gaze. Tweek knew Craig blamed himself for all the deaths that had happened. He wished he had a way to prove to him that it wasn’t his fault.
“Of course he would have, man! He loved us both. He was just… weary.”
“Mad, more like,” Craig said. “But I don’t blame him.”
Tweek shivered and stopped pacing. “You blame yourself.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“Don’t. Jesus, man! That’s way too much to handle alone. And it wasn’t your fault. You just tried to do the right thing, and things spiralled out of control. If anything, I’m more to blame than you! It was—”
“Stop,” Craig said. “I won’t let you blame yourself.”
“Then don’t blame yourself either, man!”
Craig sighed and rubbed his nose, momentarily closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he nodded. “I’ll try,” he promised.
Tweek walked over to him. “Good,” he said, “because it’s all over now, and we have to move on. I don’t think I can survive living in the past anymore. Last time it nearly killed me.” He glanced at the scars on his arms. He didn’t want to go back there.
“I’m sorry.”
Kneeling in front of Craig, Tweek took his hands in his own and squeezed them. “Can we just be happy, Craig? No apologising, no wishing we’d done things differently… Gah! I know I’m the wrong person to be saying all this, but we have to try, man. For our own sakes, we need to move on.”
Craig leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Tweek’s. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry, sweetie. From now on, let’s concentrate on the future and not the past.”
The future.
Yes, that was what Tweek wanted. He wanted the future. A bright, happy future where he could finally be the best friend he wanted to be to Kenny. Where he could look out for Butters, Stan and Token. Where he could cringe at the stupid shit Cartman said.
Where he could love Craig with his entire being.
It sounded perfect.
When Craig brought his lips to Tweek’s, he didn’t pull away. Yes, he was still uncertain about the future, still scared about living with Craig when anything could go wrong, still sad about what had happened three months ago, still many things…
But he was also happy. He was loved. He was alive.
He was no longer broken.
Or, at least, he’d been glued back together. There were still cracks, but they were not so fragile. They wouldn’t shatter if poked.
If anything, they would only grow stronger.
The future was theirs, and Tweek didn’t intend to waste it.