I started working on this forever ago. ^^

Topophobia

Topophobia. Fear of a certain situation, for example, stage fright.

Tweek is a very topophobic person. He's afraid of being the only person in the house when the phone rings. He's afraid of getting a cut when Craig isn't around. He's afraid of being called on to answer a question he doesn't know in class. He's afraid of being abducted by strangers and/or aliens and finding out that he's actually a mythological being.

Yes, Tweek is afraid of a lot of certain situations, reasonable or not. But never, EVER has it ever occurred to him how inanely terrifying it is to be caught trying to kill himself.

It's three-twenty-two. Fifteen minutes ago, he tied a rope to the exposed rafters in the attic, then tied a nose with shaking fingers, stepping up on a stool and slipping the rope around his fragile neck. He stared at his feet, at his hands, out the tiny dust-caked window with a view into the street. He took a deep breath, feeling a jerk shudder through his body. He cringed, and before he could think about it a moment more, he kicked off, the chair colliding with the ground with a loud clatter, his feet hitting the ground with the thump.

Eyes widening, he rocked up onto the balls of his feet, trembling hands shooting up to tug at the noose tied tight around his neck, cutting off his air supply just slightly.

Holy fuck.

The rope was too long.

Fear and panic clawed at his psyche and he almost screamed out loud, hyperventilating slightly. Slowly, he tried to calm himself down, counting backwards from a hundred until he felt like he could handle it. He reached negative twenty-eight.

Slowly, he glanced at the old clock that only still ticked out of some miracle worthy of the story of the Menorah. Three-twenty-four.

Craig will be here in six minutes.

Slowly, shoulders shaking, afraid of what would happen if his legs jerked to hard, he reached up to finger the rope around his neck. It pressed closely around his neck, almost cutting off his air supply but still allowing him to breathe shallowly. He tried standing up taller, but the slack was no where near enough. He was stuck.

"Oh man." he whispered spastically. Three-twenty-six.

He tried to haul himself up by reaching above his head and pulling. No dice. He tried letting his knees give out. After choking for a moment his instinct for survival kicked in and he stood, frantic fingers clawing to regain that little bit of slack. He could feel his throat bruising underneath the pressure of the noose.

Good god. "Too much pressure!"

Somewhere far below him, on the first floor, a door creaked open. Tweek froze. It was three-twenty-eight; Craig was early.

"Tweek?" the familiar voice called out to him. Said boy shook his head, trembling harder than before, guilt practically crushing him. He didn't want to worry Craig any more than he already did daily. That was the whole point of this. And he knew that once Craig saw this, he'd never have another chance to kill himself. Tweek sobbed. Craig's footsteps stopped.

"Tweek?" he called again, more worry and less apathy in his tone. Tears began to track down the blond's face, trickling down his cheeks and neck to disappear under the rope pulled taut about his throat. Finally, Craig's footsteps found the attic door and he called the coffee addict's name once more. Tweek cried out involuntarily, and suddenly Craig was running, up the steps and into the attic.

Their eyes met-hard grey on tear filled blue-and Craig almost stumbled, freezing in place from sheer shock.

"Tweek?" he whispered, anguish coloring his tone. "Hi, Cr-Cr-Craig." he answered shakily, voice strained. The noirette's eyes hardened menacingly, lips curling into a snarl, hands curling into fists. Oh shit, he was pissed.

Craig practically stalked towards the thoroughly trapped teen, making him flinch and cringe away, crying harder as Craig approached him. When he stood inches from the tiny boy, he snatched his jaw in a firm grip, forcibly tipping his head up so that he had no choice but to look at Craig, rope pulling tighter on his trachea. "Why did you do this?" he hissed, but it didn't really sound like a question. Tweek sobbed harder, choking out haltingly, "I d-didn't w-w-wanna be, be a, gah!"

"Didn't want...?" Craig prompted, something in his voice promising danger. Tweek swallowed hard, crunched his eyes shut and practically shouted, "I didn't want to be a burden anymore!"

Eyes still firmly closed, he leaned into the raven, ignoring the pull at his neck, clenched his tiny fists in his Red Racer T-shirt and began to sob hysterically, ignoring Craig shifting around him and the odd noise going on above his head. After a few moments, the rope fell slack and the excess fell heavily against his back, resting next to his spine. He gasped heavily, relieved to finally be able to breath again. He sobbed even harder as Craig's arms wrapped around his fragile shaking form, snaking around his waist, vaguely feeling his fists curl around the rope.

Gasping apologies, the blond almost didn't notice the rope tightening once more around his throat. Suddenly, he tensed up, eyes opening slowly as his head was forced back by the rope, meeting Craig's furious grey gaze. The noirette's lips curled into something like a smirk, one hand fisted around the rope near the blond's waist, the other pressed gently against the back of his neck.

"A burden." he whispered, watching the teen struggle for breath. "A burden, he says." Craig laughed, blinking and sending a tear down his stoic face. Pulling the rope tighter, he crooned maniacally, "You want to die, Tweek?"

Dizzy, vision swimming, the spastic teen whimpered, trying to shake his head, because with the greatest thing in his life before him, pressed against him, cradling his life is it's hands, he was too young, too innocent and inexperience to die.

The pressure lifted again and Tweek practically begged for air, crying harshly into his counterpart's chest, letting himself be soothed by the older teen's palms stroking up and down his back. Slowly, the tears came to a stop but Craig's grip on him only tightened, not painful but forceful, and so he quieted in the other's arms, unable and unwilling to move.

"Tweek," the Stoic whispered, obviously trying to make his words translate into Tweek's messed up little world. "If you kill yourself, my whole world will end."

"R-really?" the blond sniffed concernedly, wondering vaguely if his neck was bleeding. It felt that way.

Craig nodded, swaying his tiny charge as he looked around at everything around them, all the dusty memories and secrets. "Yeah. If you die, I won't exist anymore, because... Because if you need somebody enough, you only exist when they're with you."

"So if you die, I won't exist?"

Craig sighed, pulling the blond tighter to his chest. "I will never die, Tweek."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

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