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Tweek hated the Buddha Box. He hated staring at the cardboard surface as he tried to get his boyfriend’s attention uselessly. Tweek glanced behind him, the box still facing downward, even as he held Craig’s hand to drag him to their classes, to lunch, everywhere. Never once acknowledged or thanked. His grip on Craig’s hand increased to prevent it from trembling.
It was the end of the third day Craig had had this box on. The third day of him acting like Tweek didn’t even exist. It wasn’t like Craig had texted him since then either. No texts, no calls, and he didn’t even come over to the coffee shop after Red Racer like normal. Tweek debated checking on Stripe a few times, but Craig’s sister reassured him that he was being taken care of. Tweek’s jaw clenched, ‘That makes one of us,’ he thought bitterly. Even now he was dragging Craig to his house to appease his own anxiety in making sure he didn’t get hit by a car with that stupid box on his head.
“You know,” Tweek broke the silence that had been following behind them, “if you didn’t like talking to me you could have just said so.” Tweek sighed, he knew Craig couldn’t hear him. “I kinda appreciated how you always spoke your mind.” They approached the turn to Craig’s house, and Tweek continued his trudge up to the driveway with Craig trailing behind. He could’ve been picked up by anyone if Tweek didn’t walk him home. He took a deep breath, getting worked up before his own walk home wouldn’t help anything. He was already having to readjust to Craig not walking him back, he didn’t need relationship anxiety on top of it.
Tweek knocked on the Tuckers’ door before unclasping his hand from Craig’s own limp one. “See you tomorrow, Craig,” Tweek mumbled.
Tweek honestly didn’t know how much longer he could take the Buddha Box. He lay up and stared at his ceiling. That was a thought that had run rampant through his head. He didn’t realize how much Craig had become a part of his routine until the shift was killing him. Hell, even Stan had come up to him to ask if he was okay. Kyle kind of just gave him sad looks in the hallway as Craig trailed behind him silently. Tweek let out a huff of air and rolled to his side.
He’d try again tomorrow to talk to Craig. The anxiety counseling he’d taken Craig to hadn’t done much, but Craig had always valued them communicating their problems head on. Maybe, hopefully, that could get through to him.
Tweek didn’t know what else he expected when he got to school, but seeing Craig with the box still on his head made a sharp pain appear in his chest. “Come on, honey,” Tweek mumbled, slipping his hand around Craigs once again in order to take them both to class. Craig didn’t even fight it, never once looking up from his phone that cast a pale blue glow against the back walls of the box.
School was as boring as ever. Of course, having half the class wearing boxes on their head could be considered somewhat interesting if it wasn’t as painful to look at. Craig's hand never even twitched toward his pencil, leaving Tweek to pay even more attention to class than normal, because Craig wouldn’t be able to correct him if he mixed anything up. Tolkien was too busy to handle Tweek’s study questions, with half the town wearing the damn things, he was already swamped with other students needing his help. Lunch was silent at his table again, although he was pretty sure he caught Wendy giving him a sad look. He didn’t care.
It was strange for him to feel this way. Usually, he was so full of different things to worry about, to the point where he would overwhelm himself on a daily basis, but with Craig's emotional absence, it’s like all of his anxiety is pinpointed on him, and that somehow stresses him out even more. ‘Is this what it’s going to be like forever? Do we have to break up or will I just have to deal with this? What about when it rains or snows?’ Tweek’s plastic fork snapped in his hand, effectively grabbing his attention and causing Tweek to jump with a small strangled yelp. Craig didn’t even twitch.
The walk home started like usual. Tweek switched out his things at his locker, having dragged Craig with him (he hadn’t even seen his locker in four days now, so what use would it be to drag him there first?). The pair then began their walk home. Normally, Craig would spend this time listening to Tweek ramble on one thing or another, or Craig would fill the silence by complaining about their teacher, classmates, or assignments. Craig would drop Tweek off at Tweak Bros. Coffee and then go home himself to watch Red Racer and do his homework, then would meet Tweek at the end of his shift to go over the homework together with a hot chocolate for himself and a mocha for Tweek.
Tweek didn’t even realize he had stopped walking until Craig bumped into him. Still, not even a flinch. He looked around. The only ones on this road were them, snowflakes breezing by. If Tweek listened closely he could hear the taps of Craig's fingers on his touch screen.
“Craig? We need to talk,” Tweek said, quiet enough that no one in neighboring houses could hear, but loud enough Craig should be able to. “Look, I know you’ve been wearing the box on your head for a few days now, but I feel like it’s getting out of hand.” Tweek took the lack of tapping as his cue to continue. “I don’t know if I did anything to make you want to wear that, but I… I miss you and it feels like I’d be better off walking to a wall sometimes.
“You always told me you want me to say what I really feel and figure out a solution, but I don’t know what to do here. I want to rip that box off your head at this point, but I also want you to feel safe and respected.” The wind blew lazily around them, the pine trees rustled and Tweek could feel snowflakes melting on his cheeks. “C-can you please take it off? We can find coping mechanisms in that anxiety book you gave me? Just anything but this,” Tweek practically whimpered at the end. The silence was heavy between the two of them, then he heard it. The tapping of a phone screen.
“You know what? Fuck it, fine! I’m done,” Tweek laughed, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. “I’ll see you around, Craig, you’re close enough, you can get home.”
Craig’s phone screen blinked up at him with a low battery symbol. He huffed and put it in his pocket, lifting the box off his head carefully so as to not rush his eyes into adjusting. His hand still felt warm from where Tweek was usually holding it. Craig looked to where Tweek’s feet usually were and his brow furrowed when he realized Tweek wasn’t where he usually was. Instead, footsteps in the snow showed that he had gone on without him. The snow had an orange tint to it and when Craig looked up, it was already sunset. “Craig! Cr- Oh, sweetie, there you are!” His mom approached.
“Mom?” He asked, confused as to how the time breezed by him.
“When I noticed the sun going down I got worried. Usually you at least tell us when you’re going out. You’re not hurt are you?” She asked, checking him over.
“No, I’m fine. Where’s Tweek?” Craig asked in response.
“Right now? Probably with his family.” His mom sighed and rubbed a mittened hand over her face. “I really don’t understand this box, you got so lost in your phone that you could’ve been kidnapped for all I knew. I’m glad Tweek at least had the sense to walk you most of the way home before leaving.” Craig pursed his lips. He couldn’t remember much of this week thinking back on it, although the school calendar said he had a quiz coming up that he’d probably need to ask Tweek about.
“Come on, honey, your father is going to be home soon and you’re practically an ice cube.”
Tweek wasn’t at school the next day. That wasn’t particularly unusual for him, although considering yesterday he was a bit worried. His dad banned him from wearing his box to school until his grades are back up, so he was forced to face the world of academics once again. Despite it only being 5 days, Craig was astounded at how many people had also been wearing boxes on their heads, even he was slightly creeped out by the pure amount of cardboard there was.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Kyle had said as a greeting when he went to sit at his normal table for lunch. Craig just stared at him while he sat down to eat his lunch, conversation picking up around him for him to barely pay attention to. Cartman was still wearing the Buddha Box on his head, completely unaware of the world around him. Was that what he looked like? Craig didn’t think on it too long, turning to Tolkien instead to ask about any notes.
“Nope, don’t even think about it,” Tolkien cut him off.
“Think about what?” Craig asked dumbly, stuffing a spoonful of his pudding in his mouth.
“I can’t help you catch up, I’m already too busy with helping other people and if I take on even one more, I don’t know if I could keep my own grades from slipping,” He explained, popping a gusher into his mouth and jotting down his solutions to the homework. “Just go ahead and ask Tweek. He’s already been turning in assignments for you, I’m sure he’ll help. If not, I think Butters is having a study group on Saturday.” Craig shrugged in reply and once again started listening to whatever Kyle was talking about this time. Something about Tweek doing his work for him, even if it was apparently stuff that wasn’t graded, stuck with him. Craig hummed at Tolkien and focused back on his lunch, suddenly Tweek not being at school felt more worrying than before.
“Tweek was really upset with you gone, dude,” Stan said, as if he hadn’t just practically read his mind.
“I was here the whole time,” Craig muttered in defense.
“Well, yeah, but you were kinda, like, mentally gone or something,” Stan explained, “he made sure you got to all of your classes and home and stuff and he just looked so sad doing it. Honestly, I don't think I’ve ever seen him so quiet… and still.” Stan’s brow furrowed at the last bit, reflecting now on how odd that behavior truly was.
The lunch bell rang before Craig could say anything else and all his friends left the table (minus Cartman, who didn’t even eat his lunch in his lack of time management). Craig let out a breath of air through his nose while he got up to throw away his tray. He would talk to Tweek after school, he’ll just text his mom to record his Red Racer episode for him.
The day passed by rather uneventfully. His teacher was happy to offer him some extra help worksheets when he asked (only after everyone left the classroom, of course). He also watched Cartman walk face-first into an open locker and proceed to yell at the poor 2nd grader about his anxiety. Craig missed the security of the Buddha Box, but he sighed anyway. He needed to talk to Tweek, and that wasn’t something he could do with noise-canceling headphones and a literal cardboard wall between them.
Snow crunched beneath Craig’s feet as he walked to Tweek Bros. Coffee. Even if Tweek wasn’t working right now, he could always get Tweek an apology coffee to at least try and make the incoming conversation somewhat pleasant. Craig looked at the sidewalk. For all that he wanted it to stop, it felt weird not having Tweek by his side, rambling on about the latest social media trend that he didn’t understand people participating in because they could die, or get doxxed, or something. His hand felt weirdly empty too. He shoved his hands in his pockets and chalked it up to a change in his usual routine.
Tweek wasn’t at work but his parents were. They seemed as happy to see him as they normally would and gave him a free hot chocolate with Tweek’s coffee. At least it gave him something to sip on while he went to the Tweak home. The drinks warmed his hands nicely. November in South Park was always the last time for the semi-bearable cold before it became practically like the Arctic and he would have to use three jackets and a pair of mittens to remain even somewhat warm. Craig snapped from his thoughts when he realized he was right at the Tweak’s doorstep. Tweek’s parents had given him permission to come in unannounced long ago, but he still felt it polite to at least knock before opening the door to give Tweek some warning before his appearance.
The main floor of the house was empty from what Craig gathered. ‘He’s probably in his room then.’ Craig slipped off his soggy shoes in the doorway and made his way up the steps trying to be mindful of the drinks in his hand, even though his own drink was already half-empty. Tweek’s door was closed, but not locked so, once again, Craig simply knocked before slipping inside, balancing the drinks between his arm and chest.
“What are you doing here, Craig?” Craig’s heart jumped in his chest. Tweek didn’t sound like himself. Craig mentally slapped himself for not thinking about what he would say while on the way here.
“I brought you coffee,” He replied instead, hoping the offering might help. Tweek only hummed from where he was on his bed. His back was facing him, but Craig could see the twitches in his shoulders that gave away his anxiety as he placed their drinks down on Tweek’s bedside table.
“Tweek-”
“What made you take the box off?” Tweek asked, cutting him off.
“What-”
“I already know it wasn’t cuz I wasn’t at school today, I doubt you’d have even noticed,” he voiced, speaking as if Craig wasn’t even there. “I was so worried all day about you getting kidnapped or stabbed, so I’m glad you didn’t die because I wasn’t around.” Tweek still didn’t turn to face him, but Craig could have sworn he heard the breath of a laugh.
Silence filled the air between them for a moment. “My grades were slipping,” Craig sighed in embarrassment, “so my dad forced me to take it off until they were fixed.”
“My notes are in my backpack.”
“What?” Craig looked at Tweek’s back confused.
One of Tweek’s hands appeared above him, waving in the direction of his backpack. Craig could see how torn apart his nails were from where he stood. “That’s why you’re here, right? Grab my notes and you can go back to pretending I don’t exist.” Tweek’s voice wavered on the last word and his arm shot itself back into its spot of invisibility.
“Tweek, I-”
“Don’t give me any nonsense, Craig, I get it,” he snapped, “I overwhelm you with my anxiety and you need a break from me. That’s fine, whatever, but I needed a break from being ignored so just grab the papers and go so you don’t have to deal with me anymore!”
Craig stared, dumbfounded. “I didn’t come here for that, Tweek!” He raised his voice slightly, not wanting to be cut off, but also not wanting to startle his boyfriend. The twitching in Tweek’s back stilled. “I came here to apologize,” Craig sighed. One of his hands began to rub the back of his neck awkwardly.
“I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you until I was forced to and I’m sorry. I know I suck at talking to you and being there for your feelings, but that’s a me-problem. I shouldn’t have let me become one of the sources of your anxiety.”
A knot built up in Craig’s throat, but he continued, “I got the box because sometimes I do get overwhelmed with your emotions. You’re so scared and I want to fix it, but I can’t so I just end up taking all the worry with nothing to be worried about and it scared me.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Tweek, in fact, you did more for me this week than I deserved. I’m really sorry I made you feel like I don’t want to be around you anymore. You’re one of my favorite people.” Craig didn’t realize he was crying until one of his tears hit the carpeted floor. He sniffed and wiped his eyes, looking up to see Tweek’s teal eyes looking at him as well. Tweek’s eyes and nose were swollen and rosy from crying, and more tears seemed to be building in his eyes.
Craig didn’t have much time to react before he had his arms full of the other body in the room and Tweek’s wild hair tickling at his nose. “I really missed you, Craig,” Tweek sniffled, “why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Because I’m an idiot who didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Craig laughed, pulling him tighter and burying his face in Tweeks hair as more tears tracked down his face.
“L-Look where that got us,” Tweek giggled with a sniff, wiping his cheeks of tears on Craig's jacket. The two simply stood there a moment, holding each other tightly in the dimming lights of Tweek’s room.
“I still wanna make it up to you,” Craig said, pulling away from the hug and simply leaving his hands on Tweek’s upper arms.
“You can start by heating up my coffee and playing some Minecraft with me,” Tweek smiled and lightly punched Craig’s shoulder, “I think our cats miss us and I kinda wanna build a restaurant for our village.”
“I thought you said you wanted to remodel the library next,” Craig replied, grabbing Tweek’s coffee and his own half-full hot chocolate and beginning down the stairs while Tweek trailed behind talking about his plans for their Minecraft world. For the first time in a week, the anxiety that had caused him to need the Buddha Box in the first place was gone.