Red eyes crept over his still, shallowly breathing form. They were full of hunger, of exhaustion, of stories from the night before. Clear-headed and alert, Kyle could recognize that look. That look that drove him mad. It made him want to smack the taller man, it made him want to scream and rant and rave. But it wouldn't matter, it hadn't in the past, why should it be any different now?
He set down his book in his lap, taking a heavy, wavering breath. "Craig..." he began slowly, inching up towards the headboard as best he could. He quickly surveyed around the room, bright green eyes flickering to every possible route of escape that he could find. Unfortunately, Craig was blocking the doorway, and a third-story apartment window may not be in his best interest to hightail out of.
"What?" the voice was gruff and curt, Kyle could practically see the drunken spittle cascading out from his puffy lips. A slow step towards the bed...
"Craig, no," he said firmly. He was a lot braver than he had been in the past, when he could do nothing but curl up and accept his fate at the hand of an angry Craig. Nowadays, he could at least try and say no. It never worked, but at least he knew that Craig hadn't killed every last bit of him.
Craig blinked in confusion at him for a moment. He wasn't used to being told no. Or, not that he could recall at least. "Bullshit," he muttered, leaning back and locking their door. Kyle's breath hitched. Sure it was easy enough to unlock their door, but that still gave Craig a good two seconds to come after him if he managed to get that far.
The raven-haired boy smirked sufficiently at him, wandering towards the bed, his legs wobbling with the uneasy shifting he felt beneath his feet. Kyle cautiously placed his book on his nightstand beside him, careful to not take a moment's glance away from the one approaching him. A blink could be catastrophic. Shaking, worn and bruised hands made their way behind him, getting him ready to leap when needed. Craig tumbled down onto the foot of their bed, grabbing Kyle's leg violently.
"Dammit, I said no!" he yelled, kicking away from him, turning on his side to make for the door. Craig's reflexes, though slow, caught his waist in a tight grip, slamming him back down onto the mattress. Kyle wheezed as the air rushed from his lungs, arms frantically pushing and punching feebly against Craig's practically impervious form. That was why Craig liked to drink, Kyle had learned early on, without it, he was a giant pussy. But when he drank, he couldn't feel jackshit what people threw at him.
Craig's sharp, jagged teeth sunk down onto Kyle's collarbone and the redhead howled. Skin broke and tears welled in Kyle's eyes, an infuriated growl escaping his lumped throat. "Get off of me, Tucker!" he screamed, bringing his knee up into Craig's hip and jutting him off beside him on the bed. Kyle clambered up, trying to make a dash for the door before once again being blocked off by Craig.
The angry red eyes seared holes into his crawling skin. "Get in the bed, Kyle," he demanded, his voice coming out in short, breathless huffs.
Kyle stepped back, shaking his head slowly. Maybe the window wasn't such a bad idea after all...
"Kyle!" he snarled, lunging towards him. Kyle let out a quick yelp, turning and concealing himself into their walk-in closet, slamming the door behind him and pressing the lock in on the door. He could see the wood of the barrier bend as Craig slammed into it and he winced, looking and finding the trunk they'd brought when they moved in. He grabbed it, wincing at it's weight and dragging it to in front of the door as Craig's fists mercilessly barraged onto the white door.
"Open this door!" he ordered. "Kyle get the fuck out here you stupid bitch!"
"Fuck off!" he shouted back, his voice squeaking in terror a bit, knowing that if Craig did manage to get through that door, there'd be a hell of a lot more than just a rough fucking ahead of him. He grabbed a few spare hangers from off the rack, hooking one around the knob and linking the rest back up onto the rack. He let out a shuddery rush of air, knowing that what he was doing wasn't much, but it was all he could do for now.
He slid down into a corner of the closet behind a mess of jeans and jackets, his fingers curling in the brazened carpet beneath him. He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes, and murmuring to himself. Anything to make the situation seem less worse than it did. Anything to make the anger just stop. Please...please just make it stop.
Craig continued beating on the door before Kyle opened his eyes again to the sound of silence. He listened carefully for a few moments, screaming and lunging back, hitting the wall as the sound of glass smashing into the door left him wide-eyed and terrified.
Silence came again before Kyle could hear him muttering "goddamn whore". Kyle held his breath, counting footsteps and hearing the bedroom door unlock. It slammed shut and the redhead could hear Craig stumbling over into the living room, no doubt to pass out on their couch as he always did after drinking and/or fucking.
Kyle let out a few breathless sobs, thanking God, Moses, whoever he could think of for sparing him for once. He just didn't know what to do about all this. He couldn't keep living like this, he knew that.
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, a moment of hysteria demanding he call 9-1-1. But what was the point? Any time he did, Craig managed to get himself out of trouble. Anymore, the police were ignoring calls he sent in, or at least taking almost two hours to get there.
He opened up his messages, finding Kenny's name and quickly typing in 'Craig's drunk. He tried again. Please come help.'
He bit his lip as he hit send, knowing he could be signing off a death wish. But Kenny was the only one he'd told about that. Kenny was the only one that he'd trusted, telling him just where he got those bruises. Just how much Craig loved asserting his dominance over him when the whiskey was swimming through his system.
Stan was too busy with his own problems with Wendy and their kid. He couldn't be a bother to them anymore. And Cartman was, well, still fucking Cartman. Kenny was the only one he had to look towards anymore. At least, now that Craig had developed such problems that he wasn't good enough for anything anymore, let alone being a dependable boyfriend.
His screen lit up almost instantly, 'fuck man, u ok? im on my way.'
Kyle smiled, taking a heavy breath. Kenny knew how to handle Craig like this, he'd be okay. 'I'm in the closet, the door's probably unlocked. If not, you have your key."
'alright.'
Kyle crawled to the front of the closet, unhooking his hangers carefully, trying not to make any more noise than he had to. He looked down at the trunk, his fingers brushing over it genially. His hands found the latches on the front and unhooked them, pushing the heavy lid up against the door. He surveyed inside and couldn't help but smile at what he found. Yearbooks piled up on one side, memories flooding back to him of how Craig and he had gotten in competition for who had the most friends, and the loser had to buy the other a pizza dinner.
Craig called that their first date after snarfing down half of Kyle's pizza.
Old childhood clothing, such as Kyle's old ushanka before his replacement was bought, and Craig's Peruvian clothes lied folded neatly, gathering dust. He shook his head slowly. There was so much to their history, even if they had never noticed it before. Kyle made the effort, he truly did. He tried to show Craig that what they had was at one time wonderful and unlike anything they'd found before. His fiery temper to Craig's dry, monotonous views were the perfect catalysts for their deep, meaningful conversations, for Craig chilling Kyle out in a fight whereas Kyle could get Craig motivated to kick some ass when need-be.
If only Craig hadn't turned that on Kyle completely.
He shut the trunk and slid it back into it's place, sitting with his back against the door and staring up at the small inlet window into the sunlight.
Nothing would ever be the same, he knew that much to be true. He knew that a part of Craig still loved him as the boy felt back. A part of him would probably always be stuck in the memories of what once was, even if some parts were shaded in the mist of his addiction. There would always be that one part of Kyle that would always hope that the real Craig was still inside of this new monster.
However, he would just have to rediscover that side of him without Kyle by his side.