A/N: Cryde is supposed to be my slash OTP, so...yes, I have finally written a fic for it...
Hopefully, I didn't fail, but you know, I probably did. (Canon age, as usual). It's not really that much slash stuff, but, well, it sort of is.
"And so you see kids, this is why triangles are weird," Mr. Garrison finished explaining. Most of the kids were either dozing off or passing notes to each other. "CHILDREN!" He yelled in a futile attempt to wake his class up.
You should come to my house later. Nobody will be home. Craig wrote to Clyde.
okay. Clyde responded.
After school, Clyde headed towards his house. He would go over to Craig's house after he did his homework. He ran a gloved hand through his tangled hair as he walked down the familiar path to his house. "I'm bored." He said out loud. A few passerby gave him odd looks, as if to say "Why the fuck is that kid talking to himself?"
Once home, he greeted his dad and went up to his room. He took his History homework and started on it, until he gave up. Who the fuck was Benjamin Franklin?
Clyde pulled out his English homework, and finished with no problem. English was an easy subject for him. It was also the only easy subject for him.
He pulled out math homework, and promptly tossed it out the window. He laughed as he said "Fuck math homework," and dialed Craig's number.
Minutes later, Clyde was on Craig's doorstep. He didn't live too far away from Clyde, which was good. Craig opened the door, and he entered Craig's house. Craig didn't say anything, so it was Clyde who first said "Hello."
He didn't receive a response. "Lighten up Craig."
"Shut up fatty." Craig told him with unintended hostility. Clyde frowned. Craig always managed to make Clyde feel uneasy around him. That was probably also unintended, but he always felt like...well, a child around him, even though both of them were ten. He always felt like some sort of five year old around Craig though. He was afraid of fucking up and pissing Craig off.
The two sat in silence as Craig put on his favorite show Red Racer. Clyde wasn't a fan of it, but he usually went along with it.
While Craig remained in his seat, eyes glued to the screen of the television, Clyde fidgeted around. He stayed on the opposite side of the couch for a while, shifting around and whatnot, before slightly moving over to Craig's side. He put his legs on Craig's lap while he laid down on the couch. Craig didn't notice. Clyde looked at the screen for a moment before removing his legs from Craig's lap, and instead putting his head on his lap. Craig still didn't notice, as he apparently was too busy watching cars zooming about.
"Craaaiii-"
"Sh," Craig interrupted abruptly. Clyde rolled his eyes. He propped his legs up on the top of the couch and kept his head on Craig's lap. It stayed like this for a while until the show ended, and Craig looked down. "What the fuck are you doing." He asked in a non-questioning tone.
"I'm bored." Clyde said.
"Good for you," Craig replied and shoved Clyde off, only for him to flop back down onto Craig. "Goddamnit get the hell off of me!"
"But Craaaaaaaaaiiiggggggg I'm booooored." Clyde whined. Craig stood up and flipped him off.
"Want a taco?" He asked. Clyde eagerly nodded yes, and watched him go to the kitchen, then sprawled out over the couch. It was really comfortable actually. Craig returned with the taco and shoved Clyde over again, then handed the taco to him. Clyde responded by hugging Craig.
"Thanks!" He said over enthusiastically. Craig didn't reply, and Clyde released him and lowered his gaze. "Sorry..."
Craig side-glanced over at Clyde, who munched his taco and continued staring at the floor. Sometimes, that kid made Craig uncomfortable. He was too physical sometimes. Not that Craig minded too much though. He hadn't received a hug in forever, until now anyway. Craig reached for the remote and turned on another episode of Red Racer. This time, Clyde kept his distance, in fear of more awkwardness.
He stood up, and took the plate that had contained his taco into the kitchen. Craig subtly watched him as Clyde sat back down, and hugged his knees to his chest. He seemed sad. Craig probably made him feel uneasy again.
Craig turned his attention back to the show, but he couldn't keep his mind on it. He kept finding himself looking at Clyde. Clyde never changed his position. He didn't like seeing normally-happy Clyde look like that. He reached over and patted his back, resulting in Clyde tensing and jolting upwards. "What?" Clyde asked. Craig didn't bother to say anything for a bit.
"There isn't anything to talk about." Craig finally responded. They held each other's gaze for a couple of seconds before Clyde averted his gaze to the ground.
"What about Red Racer?" Clyde suggested.
"You don't watch the show." Craig said.
"Um...," Clyde sighed, "Can I tell you something?" Craig didn't say anything, so Clyde assumed that he meant yes. "I like to be around you, but I also hate it. I like to hang out with you and stuff, but I hate trying to not be an idiot around you, because I always feel really stupid when I hang out with you, but I would hate not being around you. Does that make sense?"
Craig was visibly confused. "So...you like hanging out with me...but you hate it? Can you elaborate on that?"
"I like hanging out with you because you're my best friend obviously. I like to come over to your house, and pass notes with you in class, and rip on Tweek at recess with you, but I hate being around you too. I always feel really...immature when I'm around you, and it's like I'm constantly watching what I do and how you react, because I want to impress you. Um...I don't think I'm really making sense here..." Clyde said.
"Why do you want to impress me though?"
"Oh...uh...because um...just because." He stammered. Craig leaned over until his face was a couple of inches away from Clyde's.
"Tell me."
"What would you say if I told you I liked you?" Clyde asked, and scooted away from Craig, afraid that he fucked up everything.
"I'd say okay." Craig replied, and moved closer to Clyde, letting their bodies touch. Craig turned Red Racer on again, his head on Clyde's shoulder. For once, Clyde didn't have to try to monitor himself.
