FicWad

Blood in the Water (a sign that someone can be attacked, especially because they are already weak.)
California, October 2014, Fall
Craig lay on the sofa, flicking channels without paying any attention. He had been calling Tweek’s phone for over an hour with no success.
He jumped up as he heard the front door open and close again. Craig hurried out to the corridor as Tweek walked inside, and watched him hang up his coat.
“Tweek, where have you been? It’s been hours since we texted. I’ve been trying to call you. I was so worried.”
He tugged at a lock of dark hair in a way that almost mirrored his boyfriend.
Tweek’s eyes were sad as he slowly shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Craig. I didn’t hear my phone go.”
Craig shrugged to cover his hurt and walked back to the lounge to turn off the TV. Tweek followed Craig and stood behind him, wanting to reach out. But he didn’t know if Craig wanted him to.
Craig turned to face Tweek, his eyes despondent as Tweek spoke, his voice strained.
“Look, I’m sorry, Craig. I only meant to make a list of what I needed to do so that I could stop thinking about it and just focus on you. I just wanted to get it done so I could come home and hang out with you without worrying about it. I thought it would make me easier to be around. I thought it would make it easier to speak to you without getting upset again.
Craig stepped a little closer to Tweek, wanting to hug him. He noticed how bloodshot Tweek’s eyes were from exhaustion.
“Tweek -”
“Craig. Look I know I really fucked up tonight. I don’t care that you told Tricia about your GED first. And it was so fucked of me to blame you at all for Blake forcing himself on you. Seriously, that was so fucked up. Please don’t be mad. Please.”
Craig reached out to Tweek and took hold of his shoulders. He could feel Tweek shaking and his eye was twitching.
“Baby, I’m sorry too. I said some things that weren’t ok. Look, I promise I’m not angry with you, Tweek. I was just worried.”
Tweek reached up to take hold of Craig’s hands.
“I love you, Craig. Don’t forget that. Don’t ever forget that. Please.”
Craig kissed Tweek on the cheek.
“I love you too, Tweek. Look, I know we said we’d talk in the morning, and we can if you want, but I don’t think I’d realised just how stressed you are with college. I mean, I know they’re coming down really hard on you, but you’re so smart. If you just want to study, though, you can just focus on that.’
Tweek looked up at him.
‘Is that really ok?’
‘Of course it is, honey. Now, let’s get you to bed. I know you need it.”
After Craig had slipped into unconsciousness, his arm securely wrapped around Tweek’s waist, Tweek lay in the dark with his eyes open wide.
He had never smoked crystals before, had never smoked anything more than the odd Rothmans with Craig before Craig quit a couple of years ago, or the milder Marlboros he favoured now to try and manage his stress.
Tweek’s throat hurt and his mind was racing with anxiety, but he felt a chilling sense of relief. He had felt like a walking corpse for the months since his parents died, but now he felt alive again.
Craig sighed in his sleep and pulled Tweek a little closer to him, his arm warm and his body firm but soft, comfortable and comforting. Everything about Craig was so familiar to Tweek, so supportive and honest. And Tweek had lied to Craig, had lied to cover up his use of meth.
Tweek hated himself in a way he had never known to be possible.

California, November 2014, Fall
Over the next few weeks Tweek was barely home, staying in the tutors’ office past midnight every night and getting up before Craig to go to the library. Craig was proud of his sudden new resolve, and the grades that Tweek would text him whenever he got another A, but he was getting concerned about how Tweek could sustain his work regime. And despite his pride, he missed him.
On a subconscious level, Tweek was deeply sad to know that he felt like his old self again. That constant buzzing in the back of his head had finally returned, and his almost aggressive drive to focus on his work with it. But he pushed his complicated, tangled feelings about his parents to the back of his electrified mind, and the sickening guilt at continuing to omit telling this information to Craig, the feeling of weighing a thousand tonnes from keeping something like this from him, and the annoyance towards himself at still wanting to make Craig deal with this. He didn’t have time to think about his feelings as he tirelessly worked to get his grades up.
He didn’t notice as Craig spent more and more of his evenings driving out to see Tricia and her new friends. He wasn’t around to even notice he was out. Craig was always home before him, even if before too long he stopped staying awake until Tweek came home. No matter what, he always left the light on for him.
After smoking it from the pipe he spent the next few days with a sore throat. Sam noticed this when he spoke, and subtly handed him a packet of pills when they were the only ones in the tutor’s office. He had started taking the pills every day, and could feel their effects instantly. Sam was right. Meth was cheap.
Above all, the depression he had felt since his parents’ death that he now knew to be partially from meth withdrawal quickly lifted. It wasn’t happiness that he felt, but constant giddiness that would ramp up his mood but make him much less patient. While he had felt generally fragile since his parents’ death, he had to fight far harder to avoid snapping at people around him, or bursting into tears at minor things.
He quickly realised that whatever dose his parents had been putting in their coffee had definitely had an effect on him, but it was nothing compared to what Sam had given him.
One evening when he could slowly feel himself starting to come down, the rational side of him started to take over. It was rare. He found himself googling the effects of meth on the brain, something he’d been far too afraid to do since finding out about his parents’ meth ring. Mentally, he finally kicked himself.
If you’re going to do this, you should at least understand what you’re doing.
He spent the next hour falling down a rabbit hole of medical articles, his mouth even dryer than it was usually as he read.
Now you’ve gone and done it. You fucked up again. If you’d just been a bit stronger you could’ve stayed clean. Now you’re really in trouble.
Fuck off. At least I’m keeping my scholarship now.
I should give myself a night off. I’m starting to feel shitty again.
Like I’d sleep. I’ll take another pill and finish this write-up.
Am I really stupid enough to do that?
The real question is, am I really stupid enough not to?
For the past few weeks, he had taken one pill first thing in the morning and the second in the afternoon. It was his first time taking a third pill in a 24-hour period, and in the evening. When the early November sun rose back over Pasadena, he had written several thousand more words that would earn him 93% on the report. However, he hadn’t moved from his desk in the empty tutor’s office all night.

Unlike Colorado, most of the trees in California were evergreens. But there were a few ancient oaks on Craig’s drive to work that he loved to watch changing over the course of the year. As he watched fall bleed into winter, he suddenly realised that the beautiful oaks losing the last of their leaves over the last couple of months had coincided with Tweek’s weight slowly but surely beginning to drop again. Though they lived together, Tweek was working so much that Craig was lucky if he saw him three times a week. He was always alarmed when he did.
Craig had noticed the return of the dark shadows under Tweek’s eyes. He had grown concerned as Tweek rapidly began to lose the weight he’d put on in the months following his parents’ death, his eyes growing dark as he discretely roved his eyes over Tweek’s body on the rare occasions that they were both awake in bed together at the same time.
He constantly pressed Tweek for confirmation that he was alright, and begged him to ask for medication if it would help him feel better. Tweek still insisted it was all due to situational depression and anxiety, reminding Craig that he had struggled to eat and sleep during his worst stages too.
“Yes, but I let you help me then, Tweek. Do you remember that bit?”
“I don’t need help, Craig. This isn’t unusual, and it’s not something they can fix with Prozac or something. I just need time. I would have thought that you of all people would understand that.”
Tweek was shocked with himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He couldn’t recognise the harsh tone that had crept into his voice, and he felt sick with himself.
For a few seconds they lay facing each other in bed, gazing into each other’s eyes. Through his aggravation and stress, Tweek felt a little twinge in his chest seeing how worried Craig’s kind, tired brown eyes were as he surveyed him. Craig didn’t take his eyes from Tweek’s exhausted, bloodshot ones as Tweek sighed.
“Honey. I’m sorry. That wasn’t ok to say.”
Craig shook his head. “No, it’s ok. I don’t mean to push you like this.”
“Craig -”
“You’re working so hard, and it’s already showing. I’m really proud of you. I’ll give you the space you need to do what you need to.”
“Thank you, Craig.”
Tweek carefully leaned in and gently kissed Craig on the mouth, his lips closed. He pulled back and watched Craig for a moment.
“I should let you go to sleep, Craig.”
“Aren’t you going to sleep with me? I haven’t seen you properly in days.”
“I wish I could, my love. But I need to finish up an assignment. It’s due in the morning, sadly. I’ll go back to the tutor’s office so I don’t keep you up.”
Craig knew he needed to drop it. But as Tweek rolled over to get back out of bed and he saw his shoulder blades poking through his newly bony back, saw his re-emerging ribs beginning to appear as he twisted to get out of bed, saw his hipbones beginning to push themselves forward again, he didn’t know if he’d be able to.

California, December 2014, Winter
As the Caltech Faculty of Physics raced through December towards the end of term, Tweek had managed to raise his grades to a 95% average for the term. He knew he should feel relieved. Professor Moran hadn’t called him in for a meeting again, but he had received an email from her, thinly veiled surprise in the tone, advising him that he was on track to keep his scholarship. Despite the externalities, he felt too constantly fraught and exhausted and speedy to feel anything close to joy or relief.
Tweek was trying to come up with a long term plan to wean himself off. He really was. He couldn’t stand feeling the way he did.
The dizzying highs that would keep him up for days at a time.
The devastating lows between pills that left him barely able to remember his own name. He never forgot Craig’s name, though. He doubted that was possible.
The desperation to get his hands on more.
That wasn’t the worst part though.
He felt constantly sick with guilt at how he was neglecting Craig. He sent him as many memes and cute guinea pig pictures as he could when he wasn’t hyper fixated on work, but he knew it didn’t make up for his absence. While Craig had always supported his ambitions, he knew he was concerned, and rightfully so.
The night before their last exam, Tweek and Sam studied in the tutor’s office. As the sun set over the campus the tutor’s office was filled with other students, but as the evening drained away the other students left one by one until only Tweek and Sam were left.
Tweek jumped slightly as a beeping alarm suddenly droned out the soft ticking of Sam’s wristwatch. He glanced up at the cheap plastic clock on the wall and saw it was midnight.
Tweek could feel Sam’s eyes on him, his reverie broken. He glanced at Sam and gave him a hasty, polite smile. As Tweek turned back to his books, he could still see out of the corner of his eye that Sam continued to gaze at him from under his messy auburn bangs, hazel eyes bright. Tweek cleared his throat as he turned the page of his notes, hoping Sam would get the hint and stop staring at him. Instead he saw Sam smirk a little.
Internally Tweek sighed as Sam stood up. “How are you getting on, Tweeky boy?”
Tweek faked a laugh, trying to conceal his irritation. “Pretty good. I might call it a night soon. You?”
“The night is young, and I’ve got lots more study to do. I’m surprised you don’t too?”
Tweek could feel his heart thump in the back of his head at the suggestion he was being complacent, not working hard enough, not going to do well on the exam tomorrow. Goddamn, Sam had a knack of making him feel so uncomfortable, so inadequate, so powerless.
“I’ve studied so much, Sam.”
“Hmm. Well, I guess that’s up to you, if you think you’ve done enough.”
“I do.”
“Okay. Whatever. I’m going out for a cigarette break. Want to come with?”
“Nah, I’m trying to quit.”
“Quit what? Cigarettes?”
Tweek looked up at Sam and held his gaze for a moment, keeping his face carefully blank, cold. “For now, yes. I am trying to quit cigarettes.”
“Why?”
Tweek frowned and shook his head slightly. “Cancer? Heart attacks? Stroke? I don’t feel well after I smoke and I can’t run like I used to?”
Sam smirked, taking his cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “You really think that’s why you can’t run like you used to? Sure, Tweek. I mean, you’re starting to drop the pounds again, but the operative bit there is starting to.”
Tweek dropped his gaze back to his notes, feeling his face flush with shame. Rationally he knew the jeans he wore, which he had bought at his heaviest, were newly loose on his hips. But in his mind he felt his body expanding until he couldn’t fit in the chair, couldn’t fit in the office, couldn’t fit in the building, and couldn’t fit in anyone’s life, least of all Craig’s.
His wired brooding was interrupted by a loud grating sound. He turned to see Sam had moved to the window by the row of desks behind Tweek and pushed it open. Tweek raised his eyebrows as Sam placed a cigarette between his lips and pulled his lighter out of his pocket. Red, plastic, BIC, like Tweek’s.
“Dude, I really don’t think they want us smoking in here.”
“What are you going to do, tell the Dean? Your BFF, the Dean?” Sam retorted. He narrowed his eyes slightly.
Tweek sighed and turned to his notes again, his back to Sam. “Whatever, dude. I need to get back to it. I do want to get home tonight at some point.”
The unpleasant smell of unaired smoke touched his nostrils as he tried to focus. He did his best to block it out, along with the soft, wet sounds of Sam inhaling and blowing the smoke out the window.
Tweek jumped again slightly as he suddenly heard the sharp click of the door locking. As he turned to look behind him, Sam was moving back to his desk.
“Sam?”
Sam shrugged. “Oh, I just didn’t want anyone to come in and find me smoking.”
“But you just finished your cigarette.”
Sam ignored him. He got back to his own desk and sat down. Tweek could still feel Sam watching him. It made his skin crawl. Eventually he sighed and turned to Sam, frowning as he gently shook his head.
“Sam. You need to stop watching me. I’m trying to focus.”
Sam made a little noise of disdain and briefly glared down at his desk, doodling absentmindedly on his notes. As Tweek started to turn back, Sam looked up again. His eyes shone as he stared at Tweek and spoke, his voice calm, clear. “You want some meth?”
Tweek shook his head again, a little more forcefully this time.
“No. I’ve already had enough today. I want to get to sleep soon.”
Sam watched Tweek for a few seconds, his expression unreadable. Finally he shrugged again. “Whatever you want, Tweek. You must be running low at this point, though? I can hook you up with more.”
Tweek sighed. Lately he had been needing more and more to be satisfied. He knew his body was becoming more and more resistant to the effects.
When he responded, his voice sounded a lot stronger than he felt. “No, I don’t need more, actually. Tomorrow is my last exam, and I’ll have my average for the term high enough to keep my scholarship. Then I’m going to get clean. I’ll probably even give you back anything I’ve got left.”
Sam’s face surprisingly lit up with the ghost of a smile. Tweek felt a sick gnawing in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t quite explain.
Tweek turned back to his notes, and for a few seconds he tried to focus. It was getting harder and harder feeling Sam’s eyes boring into the back of his head. Tweek jumped as Sam’s chair suddenly scraped against the ground. Tweek kept staring down at the papers on his desk as he saw Sam taking a few long strides to close the distance between their desks.
Suddenly Sam was right in his face, leaning on his desk as he spoke, his tone patronising. “So. You think you’re keeping your scholarship?”
Tweek nodded firmly. “Yeah. I know I am. Professor Moran recently said she was pleased with my grades, and they’ve stayed on the level she wanted since then.”
“Ok, maybe for the term. But what happens after that?”
“Well, after that I just need to keep the A average.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He had carefully checked the conditions of his scholarship. While the Faculty had the discretion to require him to make up his overall average, with his past term of high grades balancing out the previous one where they were lower, he was firmly back into scholarship territory.
“OK, maybe you don’t need this level next term. But an A average is still pretty damn hard to maintain. And I don’t think you’ve had any.”
‘Mm.’ Tweek tried his best to ignore Sam. But he wouldn’t shut up.
“The thing is, you’ve been taking a lot of meth, Tweek. Maybe you were given it from when you were really young, but if anything that just makes it worse. And you’ve taken so much of it in a really short space of time. I did tell you that those pills were far stronger than the pipe, right? And definitely much higher than the Tweek Bros special blend.”
Sam perched to sit on the edge of Tweek’s desk, his knee resting obnoxiously closely to where Tweek was trying to study, his head cocked to one side as he flashed Tweek a grin. Despite his heavy meth use his teeth were still straight, white, even, clearly the product of expensive orthodontic work when he was younger. Tweek thought of the newly mended chip in Craig’s front teeth with a pang of longing as Sam spoke again.
“I don’t think you want to be stopping meth just yet, little Tweek. And I don’t think you want to be talking to your supplier like that either. I do think you want to remember that I could easily just cut you off, if I wanted to.”
“Um,” Tweek began. “So, I hear what you’re saying, but I -”
Sam shook his head with a little laugh as he interrupted Tweek. “Tweek, if it wasn’t clear already. I think you’re really fucking cute. Like, I thought you were cute even when you were chubby, but now that you’ve lost some weight, you’re properly fuckable again. I’m not that picky, but I prefer not to have too much cushion for the pushin’.”
Tweek sighed internally, his heart sinking. Deep down he knew he ought to have known this was coming at some point. He stood up and started to back towards the door, his hands held up in front of him.
“Look, Sam, that’s really flattering, but I -”
“Your boyfriend doesn’t have to know.”
“Sam -”
“I’ll make it really good for you.”
“Sam -”
“Go on, Tweek. It won’t leave the tutor’s office. Do you let him fuck you in here?”
Sam swung himself off of the desk and started moving towards Tweek, fluid and stealthy.
“Stop -”
“It would be hot as hell. You could bend over your desk and let me take you...”
By now Tweek had his back pressed against the door. Sam was standing right in front of him. Sam wasn’t as tall as Craig, or as broad, but despite their size difference Tweek had always felt so safe with his softly spoken, eternally gentle boyfriend. Sam was wiry, pulsating with an energy that scared Tweek. It saddened him to think he probably came across in the same way when he was high on meth. Despondently, he internally corrected himself. There’s no when anymore. You’re constantly high these days.
He took a deep breath, trying not to breathe in the smell of stale smoke and chemicals and sweat on Sam. He shook his head.
“Sam. Stop. It’s not happening.”
Sam placed his hands on the door, on either side of Tweek’s head. His face was so close to Tweek’s that Tweek could see the tiny green flecks in his eyes.
“Oh, it’s not happening? Does that mean you really don’t want any more meth from me, Tweek?”
“What?”
“Oh. Was I not clear?”
“Sam -”
“I haven’t been laid in a long time, Tweek. I have to study really hard to keep my scholarship. But I didn’t expect to be studying late with a cute gay guy.”
Tweek winced as Sam grabbed him by the belt buckle, his other hand resting on Tweek’s shoulder, gently, but with a clear threat of grabbing him harder within a microsecond.
“Sam -”
“Wouldn’t it be a shame to lose your scholarship? After all your hard work. After you fell off the wagon, despite the months you’d spent trying to detox. After you let poor Craig down like that.”
“Please don’t -”
“Tweek. If you don’t want to lose your scholarship, you’ll do exactly as I say.”