jitterbug // creek

Chapter 1 - Bitter Brew

TWS: CHILD NEGLECT/ABUSE, DRUG ABUSE WITHOUT CONSENT, HOSPITAL SETTING, ANXIETY/PANIC ATTACK

Tweek's eyes snapped open. His heart beat impossibly fast in his chest as he stared blearily around his dark room, the shadows on his walls twisting and changing in the corners of his vision. His sheets clung to him, soaked with sweat, and his breath came in short, ragged gasps.

Great. Another nightmare.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to recall the breathing exercises he'd been taught. In for four... hold for seven... out for eight... Or was it the other way around? It didn't matter, his chest was too tight for anything slow and even. Tweek longed to be with Craig, he always seemed to know exactly what to do to calm Tweek down.

He clenched his fists instead, nails digging into his palms until the sting cut through the noise in his head. He got told off for that habit all the time, but he just couldn't stop. It felt like the only thing that could calm him down, almost involuntarily.

Eventually, the panic dulled into a low, familiar buzz.  He sat up slowly and carefully with the grace of a corpse. His limbs felt stiff and shaky. Peeling off the damp t-shirt he'd slept in, pretty sure it was Craig's at one point, but it no longer smelled like him, he reached for his usual green button-up shirt and fumbled with the buttons. His fingers kept slipping. Ugh. Whatever. He'd just get Craig to fix them for him later. Again. God he was such a fucking bother.

Maybe he'd gotten two hours of sleep, if that. He was lucky to get any rest at all these days, school was harder to focus on, and he could barely keep up with any conversations. It was pathetic. 

After trying his best to comb through his unruly blonde hair, he made his way slowly downstairs, The kitchen smelled like burnt toast and dark roast. Something about the smell scratched at the back of his mind. But maybe he was just overtired. But then again, his parents never burnt coffee. Not once. Not ever. They had run Tweek Bros. since before he was born. But the air had a different edge today. A sharper, smokier scent that scraped the inside of his nose. They truly had it down to a science. 

"Morning, sweetie!" his mom chirped as he shuffled into the kitchen. She was already bustling around, far too cheerful for seven in the morning. Tweek offered only a small nod and a mumbled, "Mornin'," as he slumped into the nearest chair. The coffee table is spotless. Too spotless. No crumbs. No stray paper. No chaos, just order.

"I made your favorite, extra strong, just how you like it~," she said, placing a mug in front of him with a practiced flourish like he had seen her do for all their customers.  He took the mug carefully. The heat radiated through the ceramic, heat seeping into his palms, it grounded him, if only briefly.  Steam curled gently from the surface, rich, inviting, and oh so familiar.

He brought it to his lips, took a small, tentative sip to test the temperature. It burned a little going down. But that wasn't what made him pause. The taste was... wrong. More bitter than usual. Sharper. Almost metallic? He blinked, frowning at the mug. Maybe he was just imagining things. He was pretty sleep deprived after all. He took a second, bigger sip.

Still wrong.

His dad leaned on the counter nearby, already halfway through his cup. "Maybe this'll keep you from twitchin' all over the place today, huh, champ?" His dad ruffles his hair gently, almost too gently. Like he's afraid to touch him too hard, like Tweek's made of glass or evidence.

Tweek flinched, nearly spilling his drink. Some sloshed over the rim and onto the table, which Tweek frantically tried to mop up with his sleeve. "I-I'm not twitching! GAH! I mean, I am, but I'm trying-AAAH!" His shoulders twitched involuntarily upward, and Tweek clutched the cup tighter to his chest.