There was something extra punchable about Eric that day.
Maybe it was the audacity he always had when pissing me, or anyone off at any given moment. Maybe it was his voice, having grown a pitch deeper but still whiny enough to me to want to jam two number two pencils into my eardrums.
Been there, done that. Or maybe it was the fact that I hadn't caught any sleep the night before. I was hoping the weed would help, or maybe the music I had stored on the old laptop, but all in vain as I got to watch the sun rise and the icicles melt in front of my window.
Either way despite the teacher shutting him up two goddamn times, he still bothered to poke and jab at Butters in front of me, and then joke with me afterwards. The fat, punchable dick.
Just as I made a third attempt to fall asleep as our teacher turned on a film about some history thing, I watched a balled up piece of paper fly past me from my right. I turn to flinch at whoever threw it raising a fist and see Tweek, holding up his hands terrified.
I mouthed asking what, to which he glanced nervously at the front of the class before reaching for his phone and showing me a text from none other than Craig.
Since I didn't have a phone, Craig used Tweek as his personal messenger boy. For example then, when Craig was out by the gym and wanted me to cut to see him. Which was no problem, the class sucked anyway.
I got up leaving my bag, smacking Cartman's pudgy hand away from Butters and whispering a quick knock it off, douche on my way past to the front desk.
"Hey, I gotta piss," I say on my way out, hearing some laughter and the teacher's voicing his distaste in my vernacular.
The hallway was empty and quiet once the door was shut. I glanced into each class I passed seeing if I could spot Kyle or Stan, since I didn't really keep track of the classes they had. They usually managed to stay together somehow while I got stuck with Cartman and Butters. Craig and I had only two classes together.
Fuck them and vernacular.
So I got a weird confession.
Well I guess not weird-this is me we're talking about after all, but weird as in who it involves and why if I were to really confront him about it things would in fact become weird.
So Craig. Craig is cool, awesome even. Bit of a dick, but a good dick. And I have the biggest hard-on for this dick. Guy. Craig. Also his dick potentially in the long run...If you couldn't already guess that.
I guess I should explain how it came to this. I tend to flirt with everybody, I'm a fan of riling up my buds because they're all so tight assed and I take up that responsibility to loosen them up a bit. Yet, Craig is different. I come onto him quite often, to little protest outside of me asking him to take his clothes off on our cam sessions.
And yet, I'm not even sure if he plays along for shits and giggles, or if every time I'd grope him or call him dear he was actually giving me hints.
The closest I've gotten to one was once at a show in North Park a few months back; a group of punk bands from Chicago came all the way over and Craig scored us tickets. We hitched a ride, got to the venue, and had to have some big asshole write big thick X's on the back of one of our hands.
I was thinking shit- this show's going to suck.
Craig however disagreed, and so did a shiny silver flask he flashed. So we start drinking in the back of this club as the bands go on, I don't remember the music so much, even though I have a CD I snagged from the merch booth, but a memory does stick out and come to mind is one we shared in one of the bathroom stalls.
I don't even know what led to it; being pressed into the wall covered in drawn dicks, Craig's hands pinned to either side of me, smashing his tongue against mine. I tasted the whiskey we drank and smelled the shitty cologne he got from Token he wore for a month. His body was pressed so hard into mine, the sounds he made.
It was really hot.
And then we went home- kicked out during the second set- and talked all the way home like we didn't just Christian-fucked in a dirty restroom. It didn't even bother me so much at first, who hasn't made out with someone for kicks? Maybe he was letting off adrenaline I figured, but this was Craig, and not some random shmuck from obscurity.
And… I don't know. It felt different, I guess. And don't give me any looks about it, all right? I don't need any judgment for shit I don't even understand.
Anyways. Everything kind of shifted after that. Even in this moment, watching him fiddle with one of his ridiculous vaporizers' buttons and biting the inside of his cheek, I can't help but just watch him. It was almost addictive. I don't do anything but stand there smoking and staring at the guy.
He looks up and furrows his brow, smoke expelling out his nostrils like a dragon and making it really hard to settle my breathing. The smoke smelled like cherry, but the vapors weren't red. I mean, what's the even the point if it ain't red? That's like, candy rules at least.
"You look high as shit," he said, voice low.
I snap myself back to reality, shaking the overgrowth of ash at the end of my cig. "What? No. I'm thinking we should ditch altogether."
Craig nods, looking down the hall. "What do you wanna do?"
I shrugged. 'I don't care as long as you come with me' ran down my tongue and I spat it to my side, terrified. Craig busted out laughing, hunching over as stared wanting to kick his ass.
"Fuck off, I burnt my tongue!" I glared, crossing my arms. "I don't care, I just don't feel like dealing with anyone today."
"'Cept me," he said, breathing in more smoke.
I smiled, a little too genuine to be honest. "Yes. Except you, dear."
Craig nodded again, blowing out a cloud and leaning away from the wall. "Alright, let's get our shit and meet in the lot."
"Hm." I nod and turned to walk away.
"Don't get caught, you shit!" I heard him call after me. "I'm waiting ten minutes and then I'm ditching your ass."
I turned back, hands over my heat. "You hurt me, Craig. You really do."
He rolled his eyes, waving me off before walking off towards his class.
I silently hoped he wouldn't actually ditch me. What a weirdo I am, right?
"Do you think we'll ever get caught doing this?"
"No, they'd have to give a shit."
I laughed, laying against a log and coughing out smoke. We had originally planned on going to grab some food and head to Craig's house, but halfway through the idea we figure Officer Fuckwit'd report us. Small town means word gets around faster, and I didn't want anymore shit from Barbrady.
Anyway, instead of food we cut our losses and hung out at the pond. We were besides each other smoking staring at the pond; occasionally Craig would pick up a rock and toss into the water. A few times he made the same shit joke about breaking the ice and follow it by throwing another rock in.
Ha, ha. Die in a fire, Craig.
"Cartman was being an ass again," I told him.
I watched as he brought the joint to his lips, closing his eyes and breathing in the fumes. I couldn't help but smile for some reason, maybe I wanted to try and make him laugh and choke. Or maybe I like to stare at him. Weirdo.
"He's a shit," He breathed, "I'd like to beat him."
I smirked, "Pretty kinky threat, Tucker."
"You know what I mean, bitch." He growled.
"Oh, I love it when you give me cute names." I stuck my tongue out and snatched the joint from him. "I do too, but I don't know. It never really bothers me too much."
I took a hit as he watched me, cracking his knuckles before turning back to the pond. "Why do you hang out with him?"
"Childhood friend," I shrugged.
"Can't you just shake him?"
I sighed, "Look you can't shake Clyde, and nobody can get away from Cartman. He's like an undying plague on humanity."
Craig narrowed his eyes, giving me slight chills. "Clyde isn't a menace, he's chill and nice. Maybe too nice for his own good, but nice. Cartman's a dick, and I don't understand how you and your buds let his toxicity hang around."
I hated this part of him. It rarely comes out, but when it rears its ugly head it makes my stomach turn. It was this part beneath his cold stare and dickishness that he really did give a shit about me, and it took hold when it showed. Like a warm feeling would start in my chest and make me rethink shit. It was…sweet. Given the fact that Craig Tucker on any day of the year is about as sweet as diluted Diet Coke.
"You suck today." I told him before taking a drag and turning away to fight the heat in my face.
"You suck everyday," He replied, "and you're lousy at it."
"Take that back," I sat up, smirking. "Bet you can't out suck me."
"Is this an actual conversation we're having?" He asked, a stirring in my gut growing intense by the way he looked at me. "With that said, I could suck you under the table."
"You can-any day. Anytime."
I furrowed my brow while he turned to face me, shifting a leg beneath him. "Is that an invitation, McCormick?"
I feel my jaw twitch, and fight a glare at the pond. "S-Shut up."
"Ha," He pointed and leaned back against the log. "Fuck you, I win."
"You didn't win shit," I spat, "your consolation prize is to shut the fuck up."
Craig blew a raspberry at me and flipped me off and the gooey sweet Craig melted away. Good, shit gets hard to operate a conversation with when he's actually showing signs and affection.
I mean…I don't mind it. I actually really like it; it's just almost this scary thing that's foreign to me in everyway. Craig Tucker caring. The Craig I'm used to spits in my coke when I'm not looking, threatens to toss me in Starks Pond, and plays great guitar. The sweet one asks if I'm okay, hates the crooked company I keep, and talks me out of talking about dying and shit.
I'm not sure which Craig I'm comfortable with, but I'm one away from a fuck-marry-kill scenario.
"Come over tonight." He told me suddenly, without looking my way.
I blew out smoke and turned to him. "I thought I was banned from your abode, dear."
"Consider yourself unbanned." He said, "Just sneak over."
I wiggled my eyebrows. "What are going to do?"
"Who knows?" He said, crossing his arms. "My dad will be working late, maybe you could help me put a logo together and get settled on a name finally."
I rolled my eyes. "Tease."
Craig sighed, punching me in the shoulder. "I'll show you a fucking tease if you keep this up, McCormick."
