Craig always had the worst nostalgia when it came to his friends. Since the beginning of Freshmen year the four of them had very much so grown apart. In the first week of school Clyde made friends with this weird group of XTC kids, and soon it became apparent that he was on it himself. Tweek turned into a total recluse, and Craig only ever heard from him when he visited Tweek's house directly, something he had done a little more and more as he felt himself developing a small crush on the boy. And even himself and Token had started to drift apart as Token's popularity grew, and as a result he went to a lot of parties Craig only ever found out about days after their occurrence.
And now, sitting in one of the last possible detentions of the school year, Craig was forced to look back at his shitty first year of high school. Forced because Clyde also had detention that night, and he had not spoken to Clyde in just under 300 days. He remembered they used to be best friends, like brothers. He didn't like many people, and neither did Clyde for that matter, it had seemed like such an amazing thing that two cynical people such as their selves had even gotten along in the first pl-
"Craig . . ." came a distant voice.
He blinked. Once. Twice. Six times. He stopped day dreaming.
The speaker was Clyde. "That cunt dismissed detention five minutes ago, and you haven't even moved . . ." All his words were very slow and his sentences never had a defined ending. Craig guessed he had popped a tablet not to long ago.
He chose not to say anything.
Clyde got up from his desk. He walked in a slow and slightly lopsided way, like he was always leaning. Craig met his eyes and saw they looked a little sunken and slightly pink around the lids.
Definitely on something.
"Hello to you too Clyde." He said, rather coldly.
"I heard a rumor that you fucked Tweek." Clyde smiled, coming to a stop in front of Craig's desk.
"I didn't fuck Tweek."
"You spend an awful lot of time over his house is what I heard. I figured you must have been spending it drilling into his tight-"
"I'm not."
"You want to." Clyde laughed. "I can see you want to." His hands shook a bit on the table.
Craig just sighed. This was not the Clyde he had been friends with in elementary and middle school.
"When did we stop being friends? Officially?" Craig asked, not sure if he was actually looking for an answer.
"I wanna' be your friend . . . Craig . . ." Clyde half smiled, and just like that he was on his knees, crawling underneath the desk. Craig already sat with is legs apart, and he knew what Clyde was going to do. He had had oral sex before, to him it was really no big deal. He and Tweek weren't dating and no one was hear to say anything about it.
As Clyde undid the button on his jeans and pulled down the zipper Craig admitted he at least kind of wanted it. There was just something so destructive and sick about the whole thing that really got him off.
The first warmth he felt was still through his boxers. Over the underwear, it was a teasing technique he had seen used many times, having watched his fair share of porn. Clyde looked up at him, and for the first time ever Craig really appreciated the sensuality of eye contact. Without even meaning to, his left hand reached under the desk and entangled itself in Clyde's brown hair. He was trying to take in so much at once.
He was distracted, however when his boxers were slid out of the way, and now it was just Clyde's tongue on him.
Clyde was making muffled noises from under the desk. Small moans while still keeping all parts of his mouth occupied.
"Ah-fuck." Craig tried to stifle. He acknowledged that Clyde was almost too good at this, but he didn't want to think about how he got this good.
How long had it been? Three minutes? Three and a half? He didn't want to come too soon. Usually this was not something Craig worried about but Clyde was just too damn good. He knew he wouldn't last much longer.
The hand in Clyde's hair became a little rougher. If it wasn't pulling the boy's hair it was forcing his head deeper onto Craig. Clyde moved in correspondence.
Craig felt himself getting there.
"Clyde . . . I'm gonna' . . . ah- I'm gonna' . . . ah . . . ah- AHH!"
He released in Clyde's mouth. Through the gap between himself and the desk, he saw the Adams apple in Clyde's throat do a definitive up-and-down.
Clyde slid out from under the desk, wiping the corners of his mouth. "I don't usually swallow." He said.
Clyde went around and back to his desk and picked up is tattered backpack. Craig stayed seated. It occurred to him he had not moved in some time.
As Clyde made his way to the door Craig waited for one last off-hand comment, one small biting quip, the punch line.
It never came. Clyde crossed the room and exited the detention hall without even another glance in Craig's direction.
Craig remained still, feeling worse, if possible, then even before.