The long, drawn-out moment of silence is interrupted by two things - one, it's getting late and my parents are expecting me home soon, and two, my palm is starting to get sweaty. I internally curse whoever invented sweaty palms, which I realize a moment later was probably God. The thought of cursing God makes me twitch and gasp. Craig raises his eyebrows and asks if I'm okay, to which I nod mutely; I still can't help but glance up for my inevitable divine punishment.
"Whatever," Craig yawns, stretching and exposing his dark happy trail again. My heart skips a beat. "Guess you gotta go or whatever, huh?"
I'm still somewhat stunned by the torrent of thoughts rushing through my head, but I manage a reluctant nod. "Y-Yeah, um...I g-guess so!" I bite my lip and look down at my hands in my lap, trying to figure out something to say, something to bring up that will buy me a few more precious minutes with the boy I've waited so long to spend this kind of time with.
But nothing springs to mind.
Craig stands, smooths the wrinkles out of his shirt, and sweeps his hand sideways through his black hair to get his bangs out of his eyes. "Alright. Guess I'll see you at school tomorrow. You're gonna have to help me with that algebra quiz or whatever." I hear his words, but I don't necessarily listen as I nod numbly. All I can think about is how I have to leave, when it's the absolute last thing I want to do. I give him a nod without looking at his face, rush past him, flee downstairs past his confused parents, and jump into my car. My fingers tremble and twitch as they turn the key. It's starting to get dark, which is a positive for me. I hate it when people can see me in my car, especially when I'm freaking out, which I usually am.
All I can think about is Craig; when I close my eyes, all I can SEE is Craig. Normally, it's a comfortable thought, but this time, it's like a river of fire coursing through my head. I bite my lip to stifle a verbal tic.
Numbers, I remind myself. Focus on numbers. My car's speedometer goes up to 240 mph, and there are 6 notches on my transmission. 240 x 1 is 240. 240 x 2 is 480...
My phone buzzes with a text message, and I'm suddenly acutely aware that I'm sitting in front of Craig's house in my dark car, my jaw hanging open as I lose myself in equations. Embarrassed, I type in my password and check my messages - it's from Stan. "Hey, Tweek. Could use your help studying for the algebra quiz. Kyle's busy." I frown, nibbling on my lip. Stan has always been nice to me, even if he teases me sometimes. Above all else, helping him with math would get my mind off of the whirling tempest of Craig. I send him back a yes and begin to drive, more than happy to get away from Craig's place.
As I drive through the dark, empty streets, the first few flakes of snow start to fall. It's pretty, but snow has always unnerved me. Snow means cold, and cold means potential hypothermia. My eye twitches and I shake off the thought, trying to reminisce about Stan. He hadn't really changed at all throughout the years - still sensitive, kind of a slacker, and more than a little neurotic. He was always the one trying to calm Kyle down before he could start fights with Cartman, and to his credit, he usually succeeded. I'd always found Stan kind of cute until I realized it was because he sort of resembled Craig.
Oh god, Craig.
I take the turn onto Stan's street a little too quickly and have to over-correct my vehicle before I hit a hydrant. My heart is thumping as I slow to a halt in front of Stan's childhood home. The very light dusting of snow on the grass melts beneath my sneakers as I slowly get out, make my way past Mr. Marsh, who has decided that a cold November night is the best time to sunbathe on his front lawn, and quickly go up to where I know Stan's room is. "H-Hi Stan!"
The black-haired boy turns and beams at me, dressed in a white T-shirt and dark red sweats. The first thing I notice - besides Stan himself, is his room. Papers and dirty clothes are scattered everywhere, along with magazines, books, various electronics, and dirty dishes. Punctuating it all is the unmistakable scent of a teenage boy: the smell that screams "someone has recently masturbated in this room".
My mind briefly flickers to the thought of breathing in sperm cells, and I instinctively pull my shirt over my nose. Stan blinks in mild hurt, then shrugs. "My mom does the same thing whenever she comes in here. I don't smell anything." He turns and begins rooting through a heap of assorted objects beside his desk, and finds his study guide inside a rumpled pair of tighty whities.
I wrinkle my nose and move into the room tentatively, smoothing out his bedcovers and brushing off some mysterious crumbs before slowly taking a seat. "Um...um...is th-there something sp...sp...SPECIFIC you're struggling with?"
I twitch as he glances at his wrinkled, blank study guide. "Uh...yeah, what are variables?" He looks up at me, his brown eyes full of misunderstanding.
Mine, however, are filled with bewilderment.
"Y-You d-don't understand - NGH - variables?! They're the b-building blocks of algebra!" I flip open my study guide and point to the second page. "Look! A v-variable is just a substitute for a number! It's s-something you have to figure out yourself!" I stand, set the page down in front of Stan, and point at it again; it has a simple equation written on it. x + 5 = 9.
Stan just stares at it, as if he's looking at Japanese. "You can't add a letter to a number. That isn't how math works." He looks up at me in total confusion, which only serves to agitate me even more. I wish he was wearing his beanie so I could pull it off and smack him with it.
"NGH! Algebra isn't like normal math!" I'm getting to be so frustrated that I've stopped stuttering for the moment. "It's like a puzzle! It's like something you have to figure out...like a mystery novel, or...or..."
Stan finishes my sentence for me. "Or like Craig?" His smug smile clashes with my horrified blush. I try tammer out a response, but I end up choking on my own tongue. Stan pats my back as I hack and cough. "Tweek, I was just kidding! Don't get so up in arms!" Unlike the way Craig touches me and looks at me, there's no misunderstanding Stan's signals. He's a friend, even if he's currently behaving like my worst enemy.
"I D-DON'T NEED TO FIGURE OUT CRAIG!" My eyes go wide as I think the statement over in my head. "I m-mean, I d-don't WANT to! GAH!" I make the executive decision to bury my face in my hands, which now unfortunately smell like Stan's stale bedsheets. "Leave me aloooooone!"
Stan rolls his eyes, leading me back to the bed and sitting down next to me. "Look, Tweek. I don't know what's going on between you and Craig, but it's honestly not much of my business. I just want you to know that I'm on your side, okay? Anything you tell me, I won't tell anybody. Not Craig, not even Kyle. Definitely not Cartman." He offers me that dumb charming smile of his, and despite my flaming red face, I nod. "Awesome! Now help me figure out variables."
I shoot him a glare before getting back to the study guide. I don't tell him, but it feels nice to know someone's looking out for me, and that someone actually cares.
I just hope Craig does too.
