AU where Tweek is just a Kenny that escaped the death cycle and took up a new life under a new name.
Looking in the mirror had always been an uncomfortable feeling for Tweek— like if he looked into his own eyes hard enough, he could see his mirror self move, and catch him in the act of mimicking him. He would laugh, pull a cigarette out of his pocket even though Tweek didn’t smoke, and twist away from him on one ankle in a graceful twirl, walking away on dancing feet.
But he didn’t have to look into a mirror to see that. No, his mirror self was alive and well, chipper and optimistic and always hopping on his toes and smiling that devilish little smile that Tweek felt like he could never truly master, even though their faces and their bodies had the same muscles. His mirror self walked among them, of his own volition, entirely unaware that Tweek had more in common with him than one might naturally conclude.
They were both blond. They both had blue eyes, an odd light blue color that was exactly the same if you sat them side by side, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. They both had crooked grins, but who didn’t? They had full lower lips. They had the same light complexion. These were the normal things that did nothing but box them into generic categories that didn’t imply anything close to the truth.
They also each had forty-six freckles on their faces. The hairs of their left eyebrows stuck out in a different direction than the hairs of their right ones. They both had a pockmark right on the bridge of their nose, and an identical birthmark on their right knee. If Tweek didn’t have a speech impediment, they would sound exactly the same, too.
Tweek would have laughed at everyone for not noticing just how alike they were if he hadn’t acquired a few of his own unique afflictions, and perhaps he was glad for that. There were several, several years between when he’d been born and now for him to have neglected to grow beyond a pathetic five foot three, due in part to his unfortunately messed up genes. His double soared above him in comparison. He was perpetually tired, a side effect of his flawed creation, and that put dark bruises under his eyes that didn’t copy to his mirror self. He trembled and shook like a diseased, broken animal, and the original certainly didn’t do that.
Tweek wished he wasn’t a bastardized version of a clone mostly because no one would believe him if he told them. They’d call him insane, put him in the hospital (again), chain him up and leave him to drown in his own madness, which he agreed he had. There was a constant ball of energy scribbling on his insides, like TV static and sharp glass. He had to wonder, did the original have that too? Or was it another side effect of being a weird paradoxical reject, a husk left behind by the curse that brought him into existence?
Today, though—today, Tweek was going to tell him. He was going to confront the origin of his suffering, the reason he existed, why he made a new name for himself and took on a new identity so that he wouldn’t have to die alone starving in a gutter somewhere. Thank God his “parents” were such loony drug addicts that they couldn’t put two things together if they reattached in front of them. Thank God he’d found a home that would take him without too many questions. Thank God South Park was South Park.
Tweek was born at nine years old, and his name was Kenny McCormick.
KayjsCage 
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