A/N: So I'm attempting to break my habit of never finishing anything I start. This is the outcome, a kind of lengthy Creek one-shot with no real point other then because I could. Here's to hoping I break my habit!
As usual, I hope you enjoy~ And naturally, reads & reviews are both love, and appreciated!
You know how they say, you never know what you've got 'til it's gone? Well, there's definitely some truth to that statement. It's so easy to take things, or people, for granted; to get so caught up in the little things that you completely disregard everything you'd miss if they left. Sounds so pretentious, doesn't it? Angsty, even. Sadly, that's the only type of thoughts in my head, as I lay in an otherwise barren bed for the seventh day in a row.
"Fuck Tweek, for once can you just.. not act like you?"
In my thoughts defense, it has only been a week. Since he left, that is. Rome wasn't built in a day, they also say, and I didn't really suspect that I'd get off the hook that easily. To really just, shrug and move on as if I never cared. I also didn't expect that I'd be moping around like a little bitch, like I currently am.
"Nng- Christ Craig, I've always acted like me! Why are you so surprised?!"
"I'm not surprised, just a little sick of it."
"If you're sick of it, then. Arg—I should go."
Truthfully, despite the fact that it's only been days, I can't really recall what I was so worked up about, or what started the fight with him. Not even now, as I'm laying in bed staring up at a bare ceiling, engulfed in utter silence, can I recall much of what was said. Or why I said anything at all. Maybe the silence was why I couldn't think. After a year of living with someone who was almost always making some form of noise; sounds, the fucking coffee maker, late night television, or regretfully amusing paranoid theories—this new found silence was both foreign and.. haunting.
"Goddamnit." Yeah I know, I'm alone, but I was half tempted to talk aloud to myself just to rid myself of the silence. I wasn't sure if it was the cause of my agitation or clouded thoughts, but lack of sound surely wasn't helping anything. But then again, neither was lying in bed, as I would put money on the fact that I wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon. Annoyance following the rest of my thoughts in tow, and I shoved whatever I had been covered in to the side before rolling out of the bed I was starting to loath, in favor of finding something to destroy the silence with. It seemed to have become my recent enemy.
Blindly, I maneuver the bleak hallway with an expert skill I only have due of the countless times I've walked it in the dead of night; from the bedroom to the kitchen, to make the coffee, and then back to the bedroom. Not for me, obviously, but for my misplaced half who oddly found comfort in the crap. Truthfully, turning on the coffee maker for that dull whirring noise was both alluring and, not something I was confident would improve my situation. With a glare, I give the coffee maker the finger, before continuing blindly towards the living room. Mildly, I wish he would have taken that stupid contraption with him when he left.
But then again, as much as it pains me to think of it, I have no idea where he went. Maybe he wouldn't need it, which was a better thought then the fact that he probably didn't know where he was going. I couldn't help but frown, typical Tweek, as I half slumped/half flopped down into the poor excuse for a couch. I wish I could lie to my subconscious, and explain to it how he was a logical person and surely wouldn't just blindly leave.
With a grunt, I do manage to find a thread of silver lining; the remote was actually where I left it for once. Okay, that's shit for a silver lining, but that's all I have at the moment. I slouch forward to grab it off the coffee table, wasting no time in hitting the power button. I know it's late as hell, but honestly I'd take infomercials over silence right now.
Which is, ultimately, all that seems to be on at the moment; Figures. I start to zone out, falling into a zombie like state, while I hyper-click the channel up button in hopes of anything that isn't trying to sell me shit I don't need. As the channels are flying by on the screen, I again find myself in thought. Why am I doing this? Not the channel surfing, but all of this. Why did it take me a week to come to terms with the fact that this is all really asinine? I wish I could say there was a reason he left, a reason I let him leave, but I've known there wasn't. Oddly enough, accepting that fact makes me feel a little better.
Not good, but better enough to toss the remote to the side, having finally located reruns of game shows. Not a goldmine or anything, but better then the fucking infomercials. Idly, I watch the spinning wheel and ridiculous house wives for merely minutes, before I start to drift off.
.
..
"I'd like to buy a vowel! How about, the letter O?"
-Audience coos- "Aww, tough break! There doesn't seem to be any O's in your phrase!"
From sleeping, I'm awakened abruptly by some bitch's whiney voice. And without missing a beat, or opening an eye, I give the TV the finger. In a dazed moment, I almost forgot why the fucking TV was on in the first place. Oh, that's right. Because I'm an asshole. At least that explains why I was sleeping haphazardly on the couch, in a weird position.
Hesitantly, I crack open an eye to search the clock for a time. A time it's far too eager to inform me of, just a few minutes past seven in the morning. Great. Not only am I bent out of shape due to sleeping only partially on the couch, but I'm awake on a day off at seven in the morning. If this is any sign of things to come today, I should probably kill myself now. But then again, if it's already out to get me, I might as well give the day a run for it's money yeah?
I move to my side, and dig the phone I slept on out of the back pocket of the jeans I've unadmittedly been living in; and start clicking away. Nothing to lose, right? That's what I tell myself, anyways, as I scroll through numbers, then type.
"Want to grab some coffee?"
I stare down at the number, and what I wrote, not sure what thoughts are in my head. Regardless of what they may be, I disregard them; in favor of sucking in a deep anticipating breathe before hitting send. And then, I sit. A few minutes pass, at least, and all I do is sit there. I'm sure what I'm feeling right now, is pretty similar to what a deer feels like as it stands dazed in the road, right before it's hit by a truck. Yeah, I think that's it in a nutshell, only I'm not sure if I'm actually overcome or if it's just anxiety.
I would have guessed either or, until the phone gives me a few beeps about a new message. Then, I'm pretty sure it was both.
I'm reluctant, and wincing, as I click the phone to check the message. And, it's from Clyde.
"Dude, you okay?"
Okay. So I know I haven't exactly been mister social the past week, to anyone, but I can't say I'm not pissed. Not really at Clyde, but still my natural reaction is irate, and I'm seconds from tossing the phone down the hallway when it beeps at me again. "I swear.." Mumbling to myself, I click the phone with attitude, when the headlights feeling returns with vengeance.
"When?"
Mimicking a deer with a death wish, I just stare at the phone in my hand. All of these sudden emotions are starting to cause me to lose touch with reality. Okay, chill Tucker. Compose yourself man, you are you, not some whipped fucking house dog. I take a deep breathe, before responding.
"Soon?"
I send, and then fall back into the motion of just sitting there… waiting. I almost question my ability to move, for fear of somehow causing him to stop responding. I'm seconds from falling back into ridiculous thoughts, when the phone finally beeps again. I click the phone far faster then I'd like to admit too.
"Meet you at Harbucks in 30?"
I won't bother to share my first thoughts, only that I had to more or less fight myself from acting like a complete chick. Though I had paused before, I made an effort to quickly respond, before I accidently leave evidence that my ego, and reputation of being a badass, would regret.
"See ya then."
With an annoyingly stupid grin on my face, I rise from my previous unmoving state, and wedge the phone back in my pants. I know I should probably change, in an attempt to hide the fact that I have been doing a superb job of wallowing, but I kind of hope my state is shall we say, enduring? Not to mention, it basically sums up how I feel. Though, I do head back towards the bedroom first, as leaving the apartment requires both a shirt and a jacket. Namely because it's cold as fuck outside. That and I don't feel like being tossed out of the coffee shop because of some stupid no shirt get the hell out policy.
--
I know the battle plan had been thirty minutes, which was more then enough time to drive the legal speed limit; I can't say that stopped me from driving faster than I had previously managed. Which, and trust me on this one, is saying something. I even managed to suck down two cigarettes, before parking and heading for the door. I clocked myself at 15 minutes, tops.
As soon as I got the door open, complete with obnoxious bell clanking overhead, I was both surprised and not surprised to see Tweek already waiting to get his coffee. I smirk unknowingly, against my will and better judgment, while I move a few feet into the shop to stand idly by, to wait until he notices me. It does take a few minutes, despite all, because he made no attempt to look anywhere but at the counter until presented with his drink. Though, coffee in hand, it wasn't but a second later that I got my attention. He both noticed me, and nearly choked on his coffee within the same second. I'm going to go on a limb here and say he was assuming I would take my time getting here. That probably should of made me feel guilty, but I was too busy being pathetic to register it.
"Nng-" He managed to slip in a non-response, in-between coughs, and I'd be a liar if I said I didn't miss them. Among other things I assure you. Hopefully, he could say the same for me. I assume he might, because he looks about as great as I do. His clothes, well, actually; His clothes are a toss up between 'I haven't changed since I left' and 'buttons are way too much pressure.'
Though, he looks run down, too. He wasn't even twitching until he gagged on the coffee. I guess that could also be a bet against lack of caffeine or because of me; but I lie and tell myself it's my fault. Which sounds cruel, but it makes me feel a bit more confident with my goal here.
And then, Discomfort. We stand there, awkwardly, for all of a minute, before I finally look both down and away from him. Guilt makes me so happy. "Want to grab a seat?" If at all possible right now, I'd like to just deal with either the guilt or the weird silence, not both if I can help it.
"You're not, arg- going to get anything?" Despite myself, I smile and glance back at him, trying instantly to hide behind a smug smirk. "Naw, you know I hate coffee." He offers me what I pretend is a smile, and I motion towards some chairs in a corner I clocked upon entrance. For the moment, I accept the silence, but only because he follows me in their direction. I give it a little more slack when he sits next to me, instead of across from me; but it starts to push its luck as we sit and he more or less kills half his drink. I should be content with the fact that he both agreed to meet me here, and showed up. However I'm a greedy asshole, so I'm not.
"Listen, Tweek.." My voice hitches, and I pause. Calm, collective. Remember the plan, self? Sadly, he caught that and while he was still murdering the coffee, his eyes snapped towards me. Which naturally only caused me to stall, even more so because he's not just looking at me. He's fucking watching me.
My thoughts were effectively derailed, and in response to that I run a hand though my hair. Which I'm now aware I haven't washed in days, and my hands telling me that it prooobably looks more like his usually does, opposed to how mine usually does. Instantly my ego starts going batshit, but for the first time in –years- and, I ignore it. If anything, at least I far surpassed my look-like-shit bar. Which just further adds to my desire to crawl within myself. Mission abort! Retreat!
I would, but that was not the plan. Mission Failed! Salvage?
"So, how've you been?"
I know this is a stupid question, as soon as I say it, but when he raises a questioning eyebrow at me teamed with this look on his face, well. Yeah, that was a really stupid thing to ask. I've clearly got this in the bag, huh.
"Do you –nng- really want to know?" Salt in the wound, babe. Salt in the wound.
"Honestly?" I instead, rival. "Yes, and no. I want to know, but I'm almost afraid to know too." Calm, and collection. Salvage.
"I. I haven't been this emotionally fucked since, Christ. Since my dad started taking child slavery bids on me." Okay that hurt. Not to mention it left me stuck in the headlights again.
"I.." I, wasn't sure what to say. Except, to not respond with me not knowing what to say. Wing it Tucker. "I.. almost chunked your coffee maker out the window." Suave.
"CHRIST WHAT?!?" Well. At least I knew I had his attention! Naturally, now that I didn't want it. I slumped-slash-sulked deeper into the chair while I watched him finally, sort of, act like himself. His eye twitched a few times, and I could faintly notice a little trembling.
"Yeah, I'm not sure how much more of it's mockery I can handle." Which isn't a total lie, I digress to my wishing he would have taken the damn thing with him when he left. I do swear, to myself, that if I go home alone it will be learning to fly. I kind of wish I was confident enough one way or the other to take bets. I'm really starting to get fed up with this lack of control, thing.
"Tweek?" When my thoughts relapsed within themselves, taking me momentarily with them, he had taken the opportunity to finish the drink and place the emptied cup on the table. I guess he was unsure of what to do from there. So instead of engaging in this terribly awkward conversation, he upped for just sitting there. Part of me was glad I wasn't the only one doing that, but the other part of me was quick to point out it was Tweek doing that, so it probably wasn't the best of things to relate to. Don't get me wrong, I love him; but I'd much rather be Craig. Which, ultimately, is why I'm the one talking and he's the one sitting there unsure of why he's here to begin with.
He does humor me, though, with his now undivided attention. Seeing as my competitor is, well, empty.
"If I apologized, would it mean anything to you?" Right now, I'm pretty sure that if he was a computer, his motherboard would have just crashed on me. The look on his face is both priceless, and utterly confused. I'm now the truck driver seconds away from nailing the deer, and Tweek is the one caught in the headlights both confused and unsure of what to do. Which is, was, usually the order of things. Despite that, he's taking his time rebooting. I guess that's understandable though; sorry isn't a word that's in my vocabulary. I pretty sure it's not even in my dictionary.
"You." He seemed to rush a response, because he paused for a twitch and to look at the empty coffee cup before looking back at me. Any other day, I would of offered to get him more. I would, still, but I want an answer. Like I said before, I'm an asshole. "You, have you ever apologized for, jesus—anything?"
I know the look on my face right now is smug, but I'm pretty sure I can't help it. "Not that I can recall, no." Okay, maybe a little too smug. "But, I've never actually been sorry for anything."
And then, we go back to the silent game. I'll take the moment to inform you, that this is the sort of silence I'm used too. He's not quiet because of lack of things to say, he's not saying anything because he's searching through his database for all the possible reasons that I said what I did. And he'll sit in this silence until he picks which is probably right, and what he should do about it. Honestly, if I interrupt it, well. Again, this I'm used to so really there's no point in crashing his brain again. So I might as well do what I usually do, answer or no answer.
"I'll get you some coffee." He nods; I rise, and head around the chairs and off towards the counter. The process takes me all of ten minutes. Waiting, paying, waiting. I hate waiting; I'd just like to say for the record, but at least waiting in line gave me something to do while I also waited for Tweek to decide on his thoughts. It would seem, by the time I got his drink and flipped off the employees, he had ultimately came to some decision. Which I can tell, only because he's just sitting there, watching & waiting.
I sit while holding the coffee out to him, which he eagerly takes from me with a partial smile. This isn't really a good sign for me, so I return to my previous state of slouching as far into the seat as I can without sliding out of it.
"Why Nng- Why, did you take a week to ask me to meet you here?" I suddenly regret getting him the coffee first, as now I would like to take the time to think about a response. Sadly, mental meltdowns and database inquiries really aren't my think, and if I stall it's because I'm thinking of a lie. Usually, I'd just lie, but that horse doesn't have favorable odds in this race.
"I.. honestly wish I had a reason." I try to straighten up some, why exactly I'm unsure, but it gives me something to do while I stall for a reason. Something logical, something in my favor. "Because I'm stupid? I was too busy feeling sorry for myself? And, I was worried that you would just ignore me.." I know that sounded so.. so out of character for me to say, be it true or not. Not to mention, painful too. I'm also pretty sure it reflected the hurt look I knew was on my face right now.
He takes a moment to glance down at his coffee, which is cupped in both hands and resting on his leg. I take the moment to suck in a lungful of air, holding it in with some kind of fucked up anticipation. Moment of truth much.
"I wouldn't of- of ignored you." He sounded about as pained as I felt, and if I didn't know better I could have sworn he was actually talking to the coffee, instead of me.
"Then, I'm sorry. For, being a jerk. And, for taking a week to apologize for it."
For a few minutes we fall back into silence. I'm not sure if it's awkward, or engulfing, silence, but one way or another I'm starting to hate myself for it. Again, I wish I had something, anything, to kill it with; but at this point I honestly have nothing else to combat it with. The tank is dry, and I'm pretty sure the mission was a complete failure.
"Craig?" I'm almost startled enough to jump, though more then enough to snap my gaze from where it had fallen back to him.
"Yeah?"
"If. If, I come back, will –nng- Will, you not toss the coffee maker out the window?" To this, I can honestly smile. Coming from Tweek that meant, basically everything I had wanted him to say, only in a nutshell. It saved him from more out of character responses, which were probably way too much pressure, and it saved me from having to say them. There's a reason we got along, you know; we both suck at dealing with shit like this.
"I guess that's the least I could do." I fall back into my smug domineer, and he knocks out the rest of the coffee. That's more than enough of a queue for me that we're done here, so I make a note to snatch the other empty cup from the table on my way to my feet. Usually I'd just leave it there, as it's not my problem, but I'm feeling particularly nice so for once, I won't. The cups are tossed on the way out, and once outside I can't say I skip a beat by tossing an arm around his shoulders. Why? Because I can, clearly.
"Tweek?" Did I mention I'm full of myself again? I probably should, if I haven't.
"Mm?"
"So, where did you stay last week?" I'm not sure what I was expecting, by asking that. However, that didn't stop me from doing so anyways. What I wasn't expecting though, until he said it at least, was his answer.
"With Clyde." For a second, the answer seemed simple enough. You know, until I thought back to that random odd text from Clyde. That also explained Tweek chewing on his lower lip to keep from laughing. On one hand, I can't say Clyde's not my friend for a reason. But on the other hand, I can't say that's going to stop me from attempted murder.
"You.. did tell him I was going to kill him, right?"
"Nng, of course I did."
I nod, dropping my arm around him as we round my car, and I start to fish for keys. "Good. Just checking."