Chapter Text
Pink Palace Apartments was said to offer the best views of South Park. One could see Stark’s Pond and the mountains that bordered it from the grounds, and if one were to venture higher, to the roof, say, much of the town was visible too. You could even see the creepy old genetics lab, long since abandoned but offering a macabre, gothic view to those who were into that sort of thing.
Tweek Tweak was not into that sort of thing. He didn’t much care for any of the views if he were honest—but especially the lab, which he was certain harboured all kinds of terrifying monsters. He pictured them sneaking out at night, travelling through the woods to his new bedroom window where they would scratch at the glass, sliding clawed fingers under the frame to lift it and slither in and eat his human flesh and—
Oh, Jesus! Tweek hadn’t wanted to move to South Park in the first place, but, as his parents told him, twelve-year-olds didn’t get a say. They just had to up and do whatever their parents wanted, damn the consequences, even when those consequences were genetically enhanced monsters hell-bent on eating little boys.
“At least we waited until you finished sixth grade, son,” his dad had said like that made it any better. Because it was a small town, South Park Elementary went up to eighth grade, which meant all his fellow seventh graders would already know each other and have been friends for years. Tweek would be the outsider. Again.
Alone and doomed to be eaten. It couldn’t get much worse, really.
Why had his parents decided they just had to open a coffee shop in Colorado? What was the appeal? Had aliens come in the night and planted the idea in their heads? Oh God, what if they had? It was the sort of thing they would do, right? Maybe Tweek shouldn’t be blaming his parents after all? Perhaps he needed to grab a goddamn bazooka and find the aliens who—
But wait. Wouldn’t it make more sense to have something to do with the monsters coming to get him from the genetics lab? Maybe they had teamed up with the aliens, and it was all just one giant conspiracy?
Gah! This was all just too much pressure. Twelve-year-old kids weren’t meant to have to deal with this much stress. Tweek desperately needed a coffee to help calm himself down.
“Tweek, come on. Get out of the car.”
Her voice startling him from his thoughts, Tweek screamed in his mother’s face. Unperturbed, she gave him a distant smile and turned her back to him, already heading towards the garish pink house that was now their home. And, because it was an apartment, it wasn’t even solely theirs! Strangers lived inside. Strangers who, for all the Tweak’s knew, were serial killers. They lived in the basement and attic apartments, respectively, after all. You couldn’t get much more serial killer than living in a basement or an attic!
Jesus Christ, Tweek wasn’t going to survive a week in his new home, was he?
“Have you unpacked the coffee?” Tweek asked, trying to scramble after his mother. He hadn’t taken off his seatbelt, though, and momentarily found himself in a muddle as he fumbled to release it and fell to the snow-scattered ground outside.
“It’s the first thing your father did,” Helen said, not turning or acknowledging the state her son had managed to get himself. She vanished inside, leaving Tweek sprawled on the grass, snow seeping through his poorly buttoned shirt. He sighed. Start as you mean to go on, as the expression stated. He was sure his life here in South Park would be horrendous, cold and miserable. Not to mention short. He might as well get used to it.
As Tweek lay there, contemplating getting up but making no move to do so, a pair of shoes stepped into view. Tweek hadn’t heard them approach. They were black boots, tattered to the point that masking tape had been used in a poor attempt to seal them closed.
“What are you doing down there?” an amused voice asked.
“What are you doing up there, man? You don’t live here!” Tweek figured scrambling to his feet would make him look weak, so instead, he stayed on the ground, squinting up at the intruder suspiciously.
It was a boy his own age, wearing an orange parka, hood up, hiding most of his face. From his position, Tweek could spot blond hair, a small gap between front teeth, and a dusting of freckles, but otherwise, it was hard to determine anything. Perhaps he was a spy for the aliens or an alien himself. Tweek wouldn’t give him any information—they’d have to torture him first.
“I hang around here sometimes,” the boy said nonchalantly. If that wasn’t suspicious… “So, you’re the new kid, huh?”
“Who wants to know?” He tried not to screech, he really did, but his nerves were rattled, and Tweek had always had issues with volume control. He winced violently as the words left his mouth, but the intruder seemed unbothered.
Instead of running away from the freak chilling on the floor and screaming at strangers, the boy reached down a gloved hand towards Tweek. With the gloves on, it was impossible to tell if the appendage had claws or not. Tweek decided not to risk it.
“I’m Kenny.” Kenny didn’t drop his hand, even as Tweek started to push himself up without it.
“I can get up on my own, thanks!”
“So I see,” Kenny said, amused. He was slightly shorter than Tweek, who was all gangly limbs and pointed elbows. Kenny looked harmless enough, but Tweek knew better than to judge a book by its cover. He still found it weird that, of all places, Kenny apparently liked to hang out at the creepy Pink Palace.
Tweek glanced over at the building then. Creepy was the right word for it, that was for sure. As a large, Victorian-style building, it may have once been beautiful but had become dilapidated over the years, its owner not caring enough to do more than basic maintenance. The exterior was weathered and pink, hence the name Pink Palace, but it was long overdue for a touch-up.
The longer he stared at it, the more the feeling of unease crawled across Tweek’s skin, travelling to his spine and burrowing beneath the layers of flesh where it gnawed at his nerves, fraying them.
“You okay, new kid?”
Tweek startled, having almost forgotten Kenny was there. He was as sneaky as a cat, and Tweek didn’t like cats at the best of times. They were tricky little buggers, always watching—spying. Tweek didn’t know who the cats worked for, but he figured they all reported to the same person. One day, he’d work out who.
“You can’t hang out here,” he blurted. “I don’t know you!”
“Good job it’s not just your place then,” Kenny said casually. He still seemed unbothered by Tweek’s rudeness. It wasn’t something Tweek was used to. If he spoke to people like that in his previous hometown, they’d be raring to pick a fight. He still did it anyway because he couldn’t help himself and because he was a bit of a dick, to be honest.
“You know the other tenants?” Tweek asked, unable to prevent the violent twitch that followed his question. It had been too long since he’d last had any caffeine, and he was starting to feel it badly.
“South Park’s a small town,” Kenny said. “Everybody knows everybody, and everybody is in everybody's business.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, man. That sounds like a lot of pressure.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Kenny said. He offered Tweek a smile, but as his gaze slipped past Tweek and to the house they stood before, his smile dropped to a frown. Tweek watched him, curious as he noticed Kenny’s blue eyes darken under his hood.
Apparently, something about the house bothered Kenny, too. Tweek followed his gaze, but other than looking like it could be haunted (God, Tweek hoped not!), it was an ordinary building. It wasn’t in the best shape, but it wasn’t condemned. It was out of the way of all other houses, hopefully keeping it safe from rowdy neighbours.
Talking of neighbours—
“Hey, what do you know about mine?” Tweek twitched and frowned as he realised Kenny wasn’t privy to his thoughts leading up to his question and so would not understand what he was asking. “Gah!” he tried again, “My neighbours, man! Are they… Hey, where are you going?”
As Tweek had been stumbling over his words, trying to form a coherent question, Kenny had turned on his heel, heading towards the woods. He paused, offering Tweek a not-quite-right smile over his shoulder.
“Watch yourself, new kid. Kids have been going missing around here for a long while now.”
“Missing?!” Tweek squeaked. He hadn’t heard anything about that. Surely, that’s the sort of thing his parents would have looked into before moving to the area. After all, they had a kid! Then again, his parents had always cared more about their coffee business than they had their son.
“I recommend convincing your parents to leave again. Failing that, just avoid anything strange, and you’ll be fine,” Kenny promised. He still had that smile on his face. It was wrong—forced, Tweek thought. It seemed sad, too, like something heavy was weighing down on Kenny that he was trying to hide.
Convince his parents to leave? Fat chance. Tweek had tried that already and failed spectacularly. As for avoiding anything strange? Strange, like how? Jesus Christ, Tweek couldn’t deal with this sceptic shit. He opened his mouth to ask more questions, but Kenny was already gone, vanished between the trees as if he’d never been there in the first place. He moved quietly, like a ghost and, for a terrifying second, Tweek wondered if he had been just that. Nobody else had been around to witness the interaction. What if he had just been talking to the spirit of a missing kid? A dead, missing kid?
Tweek laughed nervously, tugging at the collar of his shirt. That was ridiculous. Kenny had been solid, for God’s sake! Ghosts weren’t solid. At least not in any movie Tweek had ever seen.
No. Kenny had just been some weird, local kid, come to mess with the new boy for kicks. Or maybe he wasn’t even trying to mess with Tweek. Many of his whirlwind thoughts about the interaction were assumptions on Tweek’s part. Kenny hadn’t said he was a ghost, nor had he said that any of the so-called missing kids were dead either. Tweek had always had problems with paranoia. That was what this was.
Paranoia was also what was sending shivers down his spine whenever he looked at the damn pink house he now had to call home.
It was all in his head. He’d feel better after a coffee.
The first time Tweek crossed the threshold into his new home, nothing much happened. He tripped, but that was over his own feet, so while it felt like a bad omen, it probably didn’t count. There wasn’t a gush of cold air or a shiver that vibrated down his spine, which would more likely explain his unease over the house while he’d been outside.
Honestly, it was just a normal, albeit dusty, old house. It lacked character and would probably continue to do so as his parents didn’t care for much other than their shop, but as long as Tweek could decorate his own room, he didn’t mind.
Not that he’d even seen his room yet. He could do that later. First, Tweek needed coffee.
It wasn’t hard to find the kitchen. He could hear his mom shuffling boxes around from inside it. The kitchen was large and white, but Tweek paid the room little attention as he stood twitching in the doorway, eyes scanning frantically for what he was after. As promised, the coffee machine had been set up on the counter near the refrigerator. Some mugs were sitting on the round dining table that his mom had clearly just unpacked, and Tweek beelined to them. His favourite mug—his Red Racer one—wasn’t out yet, so Tweek grabbed a generic cup and set about getting his caffeine fix. It wouldn’t taste as good—everyone knew coffee tasted better in your favourite mug, right?—but desperate times and such.
“Better?” his mom asked after he took his first overly large gulp. It burned on the way done, but Tweek barely noticed. His body was long used to the abuse he showered upon it. He jerked his head in answer to his mom’s question.
“Good,” she said. “You should go unpack some of your little Legos and then go outside and play for a while. Your father and I have lots of paperwork to be getting on with before we can go to the shop.”
Tweek let out a squeak of ‘pressure!’ at the request, but he wasn’t sure whether it was aimed at unpacking or going outside to play. Both sounded as unappealing as the other. All Tweek really wanted to do was hide in a corner and drink coffee until his parents saw sense and decided to return home. Their real home. Tweek’s strange encounter with Kenny was still playing on a loop in his mind, and no matter how Tweek looked at it, he was convinced there was something wrong with the entire exchange.
Something about Kenny, the house, or both gave Tweek the creeps.
He took another deep sip of coffee and then, cradling his half-empty mug, left the kitchen without another word. He didn’t know where his room was, but after venturing up the creaky staircase, it didn’t take him long to locate it.
Cardboard boxes were piled up in the centre of the large, bare room, but Tweek was happy to see it had potential. It had a large window with a seat beneath it, offering an excellent vantage for looking for potential intruders. If any monsters came from the old lab, Tweek would be the first to know about it and could plan accordingly.
…What he’d do if a monster did approach the house was another matter. He was sure he’d figure it out, though. Tweek was nothing if not resourceful.
Putting his coffee mug on his empty desk, Tweek turned to the pile of boxes stacked precariously in front of him. They were mostly full of Legos and model kits. Maybe he could use them to make something to deter monsters? That had to be possible, right?
He stared at the unopened boxes for another few minutes, trying to rev himself up into opening them. Eventually, Tweek turned his back on them and returned down the stairs without breaking the seal on a single box. It seemed like too big of a job to face right now.
“Don’t stay out too late,” he heard his mom call after him, though it sounded like an afterthought rather than actual concern. Tweek didn’t respond. He doubted his parents would even notice when he came home, regardless of time.
When Tweek had been researching South Park, he’d found something about an old well out in the woods by Stark’s Pond. It was either a wishing well or had some creepy Japanese girl trapped down it—either way, Tweek decided it was best to check it out while it was still light. He found a Y-shaped stick as he walked and picked it up, figuring finding the well would be much easier with a dowsing rod. He held the twig out before him as he walked, waiting for it to dip or vibrate or whatever the hell they were meant to do.
Unsure which way to go, Tweek followed the path Kenny had vanished down earlier. From his window, Stark’s Pond had been in that direction, which seemed as good a place as any to start.
The woods hummed with noise around him, and Tweek jumped at every sound. What if the cracking of a twig was a murderer following him through the trees, or the rustle of leaves was Manbearpig coming to rip him to shreds? The trees were packed densely, offering excellent cover to anybody wanting to kidnap little boys on foolish missions to find potentially dangerous wells.
Maybe Tweek should just give up and go home? He could get started on his Lego fortress to protect his room from monsters.
Crack.
“GAH!” Tweek dropped his dowsing rod, his feet leaving the air as the snapping sound was followed by crunching leaves that Tweek definitely didn’t imagine.
He spun around, arms raised, ready to claw some goddamn eyeballs from their sockets, only to be met with a boy about his own age staring back at him.
It wasn’t Kenny this time. Kenny had been like a sun, all yellows and oranges brighter than the day itself. If Kenny had been the sun, that made this boy the moon. He was tanned, wearing dark clothes of navy and black. A chullo hat covered most of his hair, but Tweek spotted dark whisps poking from underneath it.
“Rrrrr—Don’t sneak up on people, man!” Keeping his eyes sharply trained on the stranger in case he made any sudden movement, Tweek bent and picked up his dowsing rod. The boy’s face remained stoic as his eyes watched Tweek move, and he didn’t say anything.
Oh, Christ, was this one of the missing ghost children?!
“W-what do you want?” Tweek demanded, trying to sound braver than he felt. If this was a ghost boy, he could damn well go haunt somebody else!
“Why are you walking around with a twig?” the boy asked finally, his voice nasally as if he had a cold. Tweek risked looking down at the stick. He was holding it the wrong way. He quickly adjusted his hold.
“It’s a dowsing rod, jackass!”
“Okay. Why?”
What was with the kids in South Park? Tweek had only met two so far, but they were both weird. Still, it was a genuine question, even if it sounded slightly blunt. “…There’s an old well around here somewhere. Do you know it?”
Tweek didn’t think the boy was going to answer to begin with. He just stared, his face unreadable and intense. It made Tweek squirm. Eventually, the boy turned and started walking, heading further into the trees. “It’s this way.”
Tweek wasn’t sure why he followed. He still hadn’t ruled out this creepy boy being a spectre. This could be a trap. Maybe he was working with the Japanese girl who lived down the well? Maybe they were going to drown him! Jesus Christ, falling down a well and drowning seemed like a horrible way to go, man!
“Your dowsing rod is poison oak, by the way,” the boy said bluntly, not turning to look at him.
Tweek screamed and dropped the twig.
Wiping his hands frantically on his pants as if that would help wipe away the residue, Tweek hurried to catch up with his strange companion. A bad guy wouldn’t have warned him about the poison oak, right?
“What’s your name?” Tweek asked, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide how they twitched.
“Craig.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“Because you asked,” Craig said, still not turning to face Tweek.
Tweek couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Areyouaghost?!” he blurted. Craig stopped walking. He finally turned to look at Tweek, and although his face was almost as stoic as before, Tweek thought he saw his eyebrows drawn a little closer together, as if he were confused, perhaps.
“Why would I be a ghost?”
“I dunno, man! I heard there were a load of missing kids, and you’re being weird, so I thought maybe you were working with the girl down the well to kill me!”
Craig definitely looked confused now. “What girl?”
Tweek gave a violent twitch at the thought of answering that question. Craig seemed to decide it wasn’t important when he didn't say anything. “Kenny asked me to look out for you,” he said, explaining why he was being so helpful to a literal stranger.
“Why would Kenny care, man? He doesn’t know me!”
“Kenny has a bit of a hero complex. Like you said, there’s been some missing kids. I guess he’s trying to avoid there being another.”
“By asking another kid to babysit me?” This whole situation was baffling to Tweek. He had expected to be an outcast, yet within an hour of arriving in South Park, he already had two kids his age ‘looking out for him’? It had to be a trick. Tweek knew he was weird. He was twitchy, paranoid and screamed a lot. He hadn’t had many friends in his old town. He didn’t expect to have many here.
“I can leave if you want. Not like I don’t have better things to do.”
Tweek glanced around his surroundings, clocking the vast trees that dwarfed him and made everything look like a maze he’d never be able to navigate alone. Craig probably knew these woods. Was it really wise to send away his guide? What if Tweek was never able to find his way back home? He didn’t know South Park, and there was something eerily disorienting about these woods where everything looked the same.
Tweek gave a violent twitch at the thought. “Don’t go,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Craig gave him a long, undecipherable look. “Come on, then,” he said finally, turning back around to continue walking.
Craig had longer legs than him. Tweek scrambled to keep up, almost tripping over a root in his haste.
They walked for what felt like forever. Craig didn’t seem to be one for idle chatter, and Tweek had never been good at keeping conversations going, so they moved together in silence. The woods seemed to grow thicker, darker and more confusing as they went until Tweek couldn’t be sure it wasn’t actually a vast and endless forest ready to swallow him whole.
“How do you know where you’re going, man?” he said finally when the silence started to creep him out too much.
Craig shrugged. “Practise. We call these the Lost Woods, but it's not so bad once you figure them out.”
Tweek, who didn’t have any sense of direction, doubted he would ever figure them out. It was just as well Craig hadn’t abandoned him. He didn’t think being lost forever would be a good way to start his new life in South Park.
“Here we go,” Craig said eventually, breaking free from the treeline by a large wire gate. Tweek realised where they were instantly—by the old genetics lab. A shiver crawled down his spine, slow and tantalisingly, raising goosebumps across his flesh in the process.
“The wells here?”
“Just over there.” Craig nodded towards a snow-covered bush a couple of yards away. Trying to appear braver than he suddenly felt, Tweek strode over, but nothing caught his eye.
“I don’t see anything.”
“Careful, or you’ll fall in it,” Craig said, and with a start, Tweek jumped away. Craig walked over, dusting the snow to reveal a rotten circle of wood that Tweek was stunned hadn’t shattered into a thousand pieces under his weight.
“Holy crap, they need to put safety warnings around it!”
To Tweek's surprise and confusion, Craig rolled his eyes and flipped off the well. “It’s South Park,” he said as if that explained everything.
It explained nothing. Tweek gave a little frustrated yelp.
“So. Satisfied?” Craig asked.
Tweek stared at the old well. Something about it made him uneasy, although perhaps that had more to do with the genetics lab. It was up a tall hill, looming above them, foreboding and prominent.
Tweek felt eyes burning into him. Suddenly, he didn’t care about checking the well out for ghost girls.
“Nngh!” He shivered. “Let’s get out of here, man!”