CHAPTER SEVEN
It wasn't real. It couldn't possibly be. Yet there he stood, eyeing the wooden splinters from his front door, as they lay scattered across the floor. He tried listening for any noise that might be coming from the apartment, but all he heard was his own heart pounding rapidly against his eardrums.
He was about to step across the threshold when it dawned on him. 'Someone could still be in there!' the voice in the back of his head shouted. He took a step back instead and tried listening past his own pulse. There was no other sound. He swallowed, though his mouth was dry, and forced himself to enter. Careful as to not make any noise, he slowly walked in one step at a time, still listening for any indication that he wasn't alone.
The kitchen was not significantly more damaged than usually, but every drawer and cabinet had been opened, and one of the cabinet doors was hanging halfway off its hinges.
The living room was in worse shape. The TV was missing, and so was the Xbox along with all of their console games and DVDs. There was a large crack down the center of the coffee table as if someone had been standing on it in order to remove the TV from the wall. All the couch cushions lay strewn across the floor with dirty footprints all over them.
Tweek swallowed again. The room was spinning a little, and the distinct feeling of his fingers shaking had returned. He forced himself to investigate the bathroom and both of the bedrooms, and he breathed a little easier when he knew for sure he was the only person in the apartment.
Kenny's room was always chaotic, but Tweek could tell in his gut how this was the wrong kind of messy when he checked the space for damage control. Whereas the boy might not care much for tidying up, he did take good care of his things. After all, he worked hard to earn the money to buy them. Tweek knew his roommate would have never allowed for his things to be left so carelessly on the floor that it was hard to spot something still intact.
He felt a small relief in knowing that Kenny had almost definitely brought the computer he'd borrowed from his little sister back to South Park with him. The relief was short-lived when Tweek remembered that Kenny wasn't the only person looking after someone else's belongings.
He bolted into his own room and was momentarily stunned by the obvious lack of a laptop on his desk. There was a visible tremble in his movements as he carefully stepped over his belongings on the floor. He couldn't see the guinea pig cage. Literally all of his clothing had been pulled out from his closet and now covered the corner the cage was supposed to be in.
'They're not gonna be there,' the voice whispered unhelpfully. 'People steal pets too, you know'.
Just as he wondered if Craig could ever forgive him if something happened to the guinea pigs on his watch, a muffled squeal came from the pile of clothing. He hurriedly ripped all the clothes away from the cage and let out a relieved sob at the sight of Gwen's little face looking up at him. Not caring for their personal space, he opened the cage and lifted the little house to reveal his namesake guinea pig.
"Thank God," he whispered and sank to the messy floor. "It's okay."
It wasn't okay. He glanced around his room and noticed how he could actually trace the steps of whoever had been there. The footprints on Craig's shirt and all the opened drawers stressed the disgusting thought that someone else had been in his room. Someone uninvited had intruded into this space he'd finally considered safe and taken his possessions. His vision blurred from dizziness. Someone had been right there and touched his things.
Genuinely worried that he was going to be sick, he tumbled to the bathroom. Nothing came and the nausea remained. Tweek curled around himself on the bathroom floor, clutching his chest as it contracted painfully. He recognized the pain along with the increasing difficulty breathing. His kind-of-bad-day had turned really, really bad. He clawed at his pocket for his phone and dialed up the only person he wanted to be there.
Craig was at his door within fifteen minutes. Tweek didn't know if he ever heard the intercom buzz. He wasn't sure if he'd been the one to let Craig in either, but he finally felt the stiff fabric of Craig's ugly work shirt under his fingertips as the boy cradled him close and rubbed soothing circles on his back.
"It's okay," Craig whispered into his hair. "It's alright. You're alright."
Tweek shook his head and buried it deeper into his boyfriend's neck, desperately clinging to Craig's shirt. If he let go, Craig might vanish. That might not be the case; he couldn't risk it.
"Breathe, okay. You gotta breathe." Craig's voice was strained, worried, and Tweek realized just how shallow his own breathing sounded. He tried forcing himself to breathe slower, to follow Craig's breathing pattern, but he still felt like he was choking. The arms around him tightened, and the hand on his back moved to cup the back of his head instead.
"It'll be alright," Craig whispered.
'It won't,' Tweek's mind disagreed, but his mouth said nothing.
"We'll figure it out," Craig promised, almost like he'd read his mind He exhaled slowly. "I know this is overwhelming but … have you told Kenny yet?"
"N-no," Tweek stammered.
Craig slowly removed an arm from Tweek to reach into his pocket. When he leaned away even just slightly, Tweek whimpered and clung to him even tighter.
"I'm not going to leave you," Craig assured him. Still not letting go of the trembling Tweek, he dialed up Kenny and delivered the bad news.
However Kenny reacted to the news, Tweek couldn't hear it. He'd buried his face into Craig's shirt to hide from the world that seemed so overpowering at that moment. Though, he didn't have a clear feeling of how much time passed, eventually his shaking had subsided and his breathing had synched up with Craig's.
When his thoughts no longer echoed with panic, there was just one thing left: disappointment. He still held on to Craig as if he'd drown should he let go, and he was so disappointed in himself for it.
This was the first time he'd encountered any real obstacle in his newly adult life, and he'd handled it terribly. He'd panicked, broken down, and called for his boyfriend. He hadn't even been able to call Kenny himself.
He'd failed.
Of all the things to be lost during the break-in, Tweek hadn't even noticed the disappearance of the ones most frustrating to replace. Every single one of his textbooks were gone. Replacing them would prove to be very expensive, Tweek knew, and midterms were coming up. Postponing it wasn't really an option. He'd also have to replace his laptop, but he couldn't even fathom the idea knowing what new books alone would cost him.
He didn't sleep at all that night, despite Craig volunteering to stand guard in place of the ruined lock on the door. By the time the sun rose, Kenny arrived home to face the apartment. He was far more pragmatic when taking in the sight of the trashed apartment.
Having grown up under different conditions, this wasn't not the first time Kenny had had his home broken into, and he made sure to call for someone to replace the door immediately. Tweek hadn't even made it that far in his own thinking. He snuck into the bathroom for some privacy so he could call his parents in an attempt to borrow some money to replace his textbooks and maybe even his computer.
His father answered, and Tweek grasped the phone harder at the sound of his father's calm voice. "Well, hello Tweek. How nice of you to call."
Tweek's breath hitched. This felt so much like begging he almost wanted to hang up again. "Hi Dad, how are you?"
His father sighed loudly. "Well … not too great actually, I'm afraid," he said. "Business sure has been slow lately. Barely a customer in sight all day. Not too fortunate with all those bills piling up. I tell you, that tiramisu latte did not save us the way we hoped, son."
Tweek stomach dropped, and for a moment he felt so light-headed he had to sit down on the toilet seat to prevent a fall. His father seemed to sense his mood shift.
"But that's none of your concerns, of course," he said in a faux cheerful voice. "How are you, Tweek? Everything good with our college boy?"
He couldn't do it. "Y-yeah. Everything's fine," he lied. "Don't worry. I just wanted to check in with you, y-you know…"
"That's nice, Tweek," his father said. A female voice called in the back. "Hang on a second. I think your mother wants to talk to you…"
The second Tweek hung up after convincing his mother that he really was fine, he called his boss, begging for any available shift to be transferred to him. He'd have to do this without any help it would seem.
While Tweek's plan of taking every shift someone at work wanted to get rid of sure had made him popular among his coworkers, Craig did not quite share their enthusiasm. He barely got to see his boyfriend lately, and it was taking its toll on his mood.
Though Warren had managed to steer him far away from the more bothersome customers lately, Craig's level of customer service had plummeted. Helen had noticed. After receiving yet another talk about how customers where the whole point of the store's existence, Craig could finally call it a day and head for his jacket out back. Thankfully, there had never been another glitter incident in his locker since the first time, but he still tended to feel uneasy whenever he opened it.
"You leaving?" Warren asked from across the room, leaning casually against some shelves full of campaign merchandise.
"Yup. Fucking finally," Craig answered.
"Going straight to the boyfriend's then?"
Craig rolled his eyes irritably. "No."
"Straight home again, huh?" Warren continued with a mocking grin. "Exciting."
Craig zipped his jacket and glared Warren straight in the eyes. "Yeah, my life is a non-stop party."
His coworker laughed. "Why don't you just go out or something?" he asked, before adding in his favorite mock old-lady voice, "A handsome fella like you ought to be able to have festive night even without the better half."
Craig snorted and left, waving half-heartedly to Helen on his way out. It was getting far too cold for Craig's liking outside and he semi-ran the whole way home, breathing a grateful sigh when he finally entered his dorm building.
He pulled on the door handle and was actually happy to find it locked for once. That meant Stan wasn't home, and Craig might just finally get to enjoy his room without having to share the space at the same time.
His inner introvert was very excited about that until he realized that his left pocket was empty. He groaned. Trust him to forget his room key at work the one day his roommate wasn't home to let him in. He tried calling Stan three times, but it kept going straight to voicemail. Raking his brain to think of where in the hell Stan might be hiding, he eventually swallowed his pride and phoned Kenny. The store was closed, he had no choice.
"Sorry, dude. I'm not sure where he's supposed to be right now," Kenny apologized before thoughtfully adding, "maybe try Kyle's dorm? There's always about a 50 percent chance they're hanging out."
Craig rolled his eyes. Kyle's room really was an obvious place to look, wasn't it? "Of course. Do you know which dorm he's in?"
"Do I know where one of my best friend lives?" Kenny teased. "No, I have no idea."
"I'm way too tired for your games right now, McCormick," Craig growled.
Kenny laughed. "Fine, I'll tell you. But only 'cause you asked so nicely."
Kyle's dorm wasn't too far away from his own. It looked slightly nicer, the walls appearing freshly painted and the floor considerably cleaner than Craig was used to. He located the right door and didn't even bother knocking before barging into the room. He really shouldn't be apart from Tweek this much. It was starting to affect his manners.
The redheaded boy nearly fell from his comfy-looking office chair when Craig entered. He'd been hunched over a big pile of books and from the bags under his eyes he'd been doing far too much late-night studying for his own good.
"What are you doi-"
"Where's Stan?" Craig interrupted.
Kyle blinked. "Why?"
"I left my key at work," Craig explained with an unapologetic shrug. Kyle rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair.
"His dad came to town to visit, got really drunk and then arrested," the redhead answered. "He'll probably be at the station for a while."
"You're kidding…" Craig groaned. Kyle rummaged through the top drawer of his desk and fished out a key.
"Here," he said and handed it to Craig. "Stan had a copy made for me. You can borrow it."
Craig eyed the key in his palm. It was so much shinier than his own. "Why would he give you a key?"
Kyle rolled his eyes again. "Because Stan loses things," he answered. "Especially if he's been drinking."
"Ah." Craig clutched the key. "Thanks."
"No problem," Kyle said and turned back to his computer and the big pile of books. Craig eyed them curiously. He was pretty confident he knew most of Kyle's classes from overhearing all of his conversations with Stan, but he didn't recognize any of the books on the boy's desk to match those subjects.
"How do you have so much more work than everyone else?" he asked.
Kyle looked mildly annoyed that Craig hadn't left him alone in his room yet. "I just do."
"No, really," Craig said. "You always work faster than me. A lot faster. And even though you apparently aim to spend every waking moment in my dorm, you still leave early every night to study. Why would you have so much more work than me?"
"I-it's nothing," Kyle stammered. Craig narrowed his eyes. He recognized a nervous stutter better than most. Kyle straightened his back when he noticed. "I'm working part-time as a receptionist at a local law firm and it's getting me a little behind."
Craig stared him down, but Kyle had regained his usual confidence and returned the stare without blinking. The kid never backed down. Craig could admire him for that.
The telltale sound of a Facebook message sounded from Kyle's phone. The boy made a panicked noise and quickly moved it out of Craig's reach. The same noise chimed from his laptop, though, and Craig grabbed it off the desk despite loud protests from Kyle.
"When you're done finding that loophole, I need you to pick up a package at the station," Craig read aloud, purposely omitting the opening 'Hey Jew'. He glanced at Kyle with an eyebrow arched skeptically. "What loophole?"
"It doesn't concern you," Kyle said through clenched teeth.
"Cartman is trying to get out of prison, isn't he?" Craig guessed. "Why would you help him?"
Kyle said nothing.
"Why? You hate him. And he deserves what he got. He scammed that old couple for literally everything they had," Craig continued. Kyle averted his gaze. "Why would you help him?!"
"I'm not … helping him get out," Kyle said, staring intently out the window. "I'm just … researching something."
Craig stared at the redhead in disbelief. Kyle Broflovski was the biggest moral crusader he knew, safe for the boy's mother. How could he be bothered to lift as much as a pinky to help out someone as corrupt as Eric Cartman? He'd hated the guy since preschool.
Kyle kept stealing worried glances at his phone, and the gears finally halted to a stop in Craig's mind when he arrived at the only possible explanation.
"He's got something on you, doesn't he?"
Kyle's eyes widened. "W-what? No!"
"That's it, though. He's blackmailing you, isn't he?" Craig asked. "What's he got on you?"
Kyle's shoulders slumped and he looked away from Craig again.
"It's about Stan," he guessed, correctly, if the way Kyle's eyes became even wider was any indication. "He's gonna tell Stan that you're in love with him, isn't he?"
Kyle opened his mouth to argue, but Craig cut him off instantly, "Don't even bother lying to me, Broflovski. I've been stuck in the same room as you two every day for more than a month. I'd have to be fucking blind not to notice."
There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them. "Please don't tell him," Kyle pleaded in an uncharacteristically small voice. Craig felt nauseous with pity.
"I'm not going to," he promised. "You should do that on your own, honestly."
"I won't. He's just not into guys and that's fine," Kyle said and released the death-grip on his phone to place in on the desk in front of him. "I just have to wait it out until I get over it, and then I'll be fine. I'm not losing my best friend over this."
The forgotten phone on Kyle's desk started buzzing and the words 'Fat-Ass calling' appeared on the screen. Knowing Kyle's moves this time, Craig grabbed the phone off the desk before Kyle could even lift his hand towards it. Craig slid his thumb across the screen and put the phone to his ear.
"Don't," Kyle warned.
"Go fuck yourself," he told Cartman and hung up.
Kyle stared from Craig to the phone in his palm, looking absolutely horrified. Craig felt pretty good about himself.
