Warning: This chapter contains sexual content
Craig's song of the day: Not at Home by McCandless
Some Boys are Monsters
Them and Us; Part Two
My feet shuffle quietly against the tile of the hallway floor. They squeak frustratingly loud, but the sound is drowned out by the heavy footsteps and lively voices of other peers. As usual, I end up being banged around quite a bit. I always get ignored and pushed around when Craig isn't with me. Little grumbles of dissatisfaction squeak their way out of my throat, but I'm doing a surprisingly good job of staying calm in the congested halls all by myself. My messenger bag bumps lightly against my hip bone as I change direction, veering away from the endless mass of bodies and disappearing into the senior bathroom. There are a couple guys at the sink when I walk in. They scrub lazily at their hands while chatting amongst themselves. I recognize them, but barely. They're just a couple nameless faces that fade in and out of the background, just like everyone else. When they dry off their hands, I lean up against the white brick wall as if I might blend in enough for them not to notice me.
They do notice the twitchy freak standing by the door, though. I guess I'm kind of hard not to see with what an eye sore I am today. With the combination of my bright red pajama bottoms, humongous knitted sweater, ugly ass crocks, and Craig's jacket draped around me, I look like a five year old who just dressed himself for the first time.
Not a word is spoken to or around me as they leave. Once the door is shut behind them, I drop my bag almost carelessly against the floor. Almost.
Walking up to the sink, I turn on the faucet and let warm water run over my nervously vibrating hands. I notice a small red mark plastered on my head when I anxiously peek at the Tweek in the mirror. I cover it with my pointer finger in disgust and hold it there for a few moments as if the small disfigurement will disappear with enough pressure. Mirror-Tweek mimics me, of course, but the unsightly red line doesn't go away. Upon closer inspection, I realize just how many little bitty marks of slightly raised skin litter my billboard of a forehead. It's nothing too noticeable, but it doesn't exactly help with my less-than-average looks. Huffing, I splash the warm water carefully onto my face, my features scrunching together in slight discomfort.
The bell rings.
I'm late for last period.
Lowly, I groan in irritation before tugging hard on my hair. Tardy. I'm tardy! I'm late for class and I don't even have Craig to blame for it this time!
Craig... I hope he's doing okay.
Oh, Lord. Don't think about him. He got in trouble because he was being a butthole to the teacher, and that's not my problem. There's no reason to be worried, either. He was only sent to the principal's office like the ten thousand other times something like this happened. He isn't being suspended, expelled, or anally probed. He's fine. I'm fine.
Still, he's on my mind. Still, I'm worrying about him. It's like some kind of brain disease or something.
Crancer.
Cramonia.
Craigitus.
I have Craigitus in my brains.
It's spread so rampant that I swear to God I can smell the cloud of cigarette smoke that sometimes lingers around him. It's... actually really strong. Dear God. I've gone insane, but instead of seeing things that aren't there like normal psychos, I just smell things that aren't there.
I'm smelling things, and, also, I'minsane. They're gonna put me away in the funny farm like they did Clyde's sister! I don't wanna go to the funny farm. The cows would step on me.
I turn around in confusion when the scent only gets stronger, eyebrows knitting together when I take note of a dark pair of shoes resting under the crack of a stall door. Warn out boots. Narrowing my eyes, a pang of frustration seeps through me. I guess it isn't a surprise we would both find ourselves coming to this one place in search of comfort and solitude, but somebody give me a break.
I shuffle over to the door before banging my fist against it angrily. "Do you gotta always pop up everywhere I go, you freaking butthole?" I groan against the door. He shuffles voicelessly inside the stall, and it isn't long before I hear the cigarette plop into the water. He doesn't answer, and after a while standing in silence I start getting more frustrated.
I frown deeply.
"Okay, sorry, I didn't mean that... you're just acting really weird today," I find myself apologizing to the blue door I'm leaning up against. "Can you come out so we can talk?
I hear a nasally clearing of someone's throat, but still no reply.
"Craig, please..."
The lock slides open, causing me to step back a foot or so. An eye peeks out at me from the newly formed crack in the stall door, but it isn't blue. It's brown. It's a deep chocolate brown that's scanning my face with glossy recognition. I tilt my head to the side, a small habit that I'm sadly adopting from the familiar gestures of my lover. The boy before me lets out a small sound of sadness, his hazed gaze shifting everywhere but in my direction. I reach out and grab a hold of the shiny silver handle. He doesn't fight or argue as I pull the door the rest of the way open. He just stands there looking shamed or guilty, like a child caught doing something he shouldn't have been.
"Clyde?" I question quietly, stepping a bit closer to get a better look at him. "Were you smoking?"
"Huh?... No," he denies with widened eyes.
He's lying. I can tell by his shifting gaze, although I don't understand why. I give him a look, my mouth twisting in disbelief. "I'm with Craig enough to know what tobacco smells like."
His lips curl downward into a pitiful frown, and he slips past me to make his way to the sink. I follow, keeping space between us to keep him from feeling smothered. He turns on the spigot just as I did before him, running his hands through the water, and then through his hair. He's oddly quiet as he does so, but it isn't long before he huffs and puts on a little smile.
"Um... I picked it up a couple weeks ago..." he confesses, turning the handle until the flow of water trickles to nothing. I lean up against the wall beside him as he does so, crossing my arms around my torso and resting the side of my head against the painted bricks.
"From Craig?" I chuckle with a cockeyed smile.
"Naw," Clyde murmurs, seeming just as amused by my assumption. "Kenny."
"Well, that's really surprising," I reply sarcastically, scratching at acne through the thick fabric encasing my upper right arm.
He smiles lightly. "Just... don't tell anyone about it, okay?"
"Why? A bunch of kids smoke," I reply with a baffled chuckle.
Clyde gives me a weird look, like he can't believe what he's hearing. "Wow. What? Out of all my friends, I thought you'd be the first to give me a smoking is bad speech."
My mouth twists from amused to offended. "What? Why does everybody act like I'm a goody-goody fuddy-duddy? I'm n-not some perfect little angel, you know."
Clyde's trying not to laugh. I can tell by the twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Fuddy-duddy?" he chuckles with raised brows, almost as if me using that term is enough in itself to prove his point.
"Oh, shut up, you know what I meant!" I fuss before looking down at my orange crocks, face flushing slightly in my embarrassment. Do I really seem that innocent? Is it really so hard to believe that I wouldn't lose my shit over something as small as a cigarette?
He frowns, and then reaches out to grip my shoulder reassuringly. "Hey, don't get all sad on me. I wasn't trying to make fun of you or anything."
My hand comes up to meet his, gripping it's fleshy back. I can feel the skin moving under the tips of my fingers. I can feel the bones that skin is blanketing, and the veins pumping blood and life through him. I'm so upset with him for so many reasons, but I have no right to be angry.
There's yet another thing that's horribly wrong of me. I seem to always expect Clyde to confide his problems in me. I get mad and frustrated when I know he's hiding things, and I take it personal when he'd rather keep what he's going through to himself.
I'm a hypocrite.
"I won't tell," I promise before shaking my head, the line forming my mouth trembling softly. The grip on my shoulder tightens.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm alright," I lie. "Just need sleep or something."
He doesn't believe me. That's more than evident from the tight-lipped look he's giving me. Despite that, he opts not to poke at my already rustled feathers. "Me too. A lot of it," he confides.
I look up. He's smiling at me, just like he usually does. It isn't tight lipped or insincere. It's not wavering or shaky. It's full, genuine, and candid. He's trying to make me feel better, but this efforts are giving the opposite effect. It only makes me feel bad, like I've been a selfish, shitty friend.
"Hey..." I utter weakly, my expression wavering a bit as I hesitantly look him in the eyes. When I don't continue, he hums out a small, questioning sound.
"You'd still be my friend even if I did something really bad, wouldn't you?" I finally ask, my bottom lip quivering again even though I'm begging it to stop.
He blinks at me, and his eyebrows raise.
"Well, of course I would," his hand clasps my shoulder firmly in a guyish show of affection. "I wouldn't be much of a friend otherwise, would I?"
I try to smile, but I'm sure it looks weird considering I'm on the verge of tears for the thousandth time since this all started. I want to tell him so bad. I want to admit to absolutely everything, to tell him the whole story from the very start. I want to admit that I've smashed my head two times in the last month. I want to tell him how lonely I feel all the time, and that I'm not the innocent little thing I've seemed to trick everyone into believing I am. I want to tell him how Craig kissed me, and that we've been sleeping together behind everyone's backs. I just want to admit to it all.
But I made a promise.
"I g-guess not." I feign a smile. I realize in my distress that I'm wishing he was here to help keep me from spilling my guts.
It makes me hate myself.
"... And, hey, I know things have been kinda weird, and we've been kind of distant lately," he begins without missing a beat, "but we're still bros, and you know can talk to me about anything if you need to."
Please, stop talking.
"Y-yeah," I utter, trying to speak softly so he can't hear the bits of emotion peeking through my words. "The same goes for you."
Clyde steps back a few feet to scoop his batman backpack up off the floor. The black thing has been hiding under one of the sinks.
Breathe in through your nose,
And out through your mouth.
"By the way, can you do me a favor and beat Craig up when you see him?" I ask as we migrate to the door. We're already late for class as it is, so we take our time leaving the bathroom.
"Pfft, why?"
"GAH! 'Cause he's back to arguing with teachers again!" I cry out, tugging hard on my hair. "He was doing so good this year, I was really proud of him! Then he goes and gets himself sent to Mr. Greyman's office!Ugh!"
"Wait, he got written up? Mom and dad are gonna be really happy about that." He uttered that last part under his breath before we finally walk into the hallway.
"Yeah! S-shit man, when is he ever gonna learn?"
"My guess is never," Clyde replies in more of a lighthearted tone than I was expecting, like Craig's delinquent behavior is somehow endearing. "You know how that guy is, he's always doing something he shouldn't be, and just when you think he's straightened out he's right back to it again. It's like when he kept stealing liquor from dad's cabinet."
I force myself not to chuckle, but a small grin tugs at the corners of my lips. That alcohol somehow always ended up being drank in my bedroom. Craig let me try it one time, but it tasted like I imagine paint thinner would.
"Hah, that was back before I lived with them," he muses. "When me and Monica shared that room in my dad's old house."
With the shake of his head, he grins, and it's not long before he's lost in the memory of his big sister. "That room was weird looking, her half was so packed full of stuffed animals that my half of the room looked empty."
I puff out a small bout of laughter.
"You miss her a lot, d-don't you?"
He looks down at his feet for a moment, and then his attention turns back onto my face. "Yeah... more than I ever missed anybody, but she wouldn't want me to be sad."
"Yeah," I mutter in quiet agreement.
It was only a year ago when Monica had left him, and I remember her well. She was much older than her younger half. At least old enough to take the place of their late mother. She wore her hair in a short bob, a lot like my own mom does. The silky strands were brown and her eyes were no different, just like her little brother.
I remember that she liked me especially, even though I think it's because she just felt bad for me. She asked my parents if she could bring Clyde over and baby sit while they were away a few times. Her watching over the neighborhood kids wasn't uncommon, but to go out of her way to do so without being asked was. A pretty apron with blue flowers stitched into the pockets always adorned her torso when she'd cook us dinner. She'd make peanut butter cookies for desert because they were my favorite, and Clyde and I would follow her through the kitchen as we held fast to the white strings that hung from her back.
She was always really happy and chipper despite all the hardship her dad put her and her little brother through. Nobody knew about that at the time, though. They never told anyone, and Clyde didn't admit it until he no longer had Monica to share his suffering with.
I don't understand how she could leave him when he needed her so bad. I know she had her own issues. She was in and out of the psyche ward a couple times before she died, though I don't know why. That's not an excuse, though. There'sno excuse for what she did. She offed herself in the closet they shared for God's sake. She had to've known he'd be the one to find her. She had to've known she was leaving him all alone in a horrible place.
She abandoned him, and I can't forgive her for that.
The rest of the walk to the band room consists mostly of idle chit chat about our sleepover. I'm not really engaged in the conversation, though. My brain is too busy trying to synchronize our steps to really pay attention to what's being said. It's hard to do. Clyde's legs are longer than mine, just like everyone else's are.
I look down at my feet and take steps much bigger than usual to keep up with Clyde's longer stride. I probably look stupid, but I don't care. The speckled tiles I'm staring at stop suddenly when we come to the band room. I swallow down spit when I look up. Through the thick window in the door, I see Craig isn't in class. His girlfriend is sitting on one of the lower steps of the mini-bleachers. She's looking down at her cell phone, biting her lip as she scrolls through text messages.
I don't want to go in, but I still trail behind Clyde as he slips into the room. He's greeted enthusiastically by a certain blond clasping a guitar.
"Hey, dude!" Kenny greets, holding the wooden instrument up by the neck. "I freaking learned the chords to that song!"
"Sweet!" Clyde veers off to join up with our friends in the higher steps of the bleachers, but I remain alone on the ground. I'm too hypnotized by how washed out Bebe looks today to participate. Her slender fingers fiddle with her cell phone, and a small sigh works it's way out of her pale, unpainted lips.
He looks almost sick without the color of makeup adorning her face. I feel horrible when I realize how smug that makes me feel.
She must have been able to feel me staring at her, because she looks up in my direction. I flinch when her gaze falls upon me, but smile a little to try not to seem awkward. She smiles back, though it looks tight and lost. Her hand comes up to gesture me by her lonely side. I really shouldn't go over there. Craig says that I can't talk to her when he's not with us, but curiosity is eating away at me.
I sigh before lifting my bag and stumbling over to her.
Her hair isn't even made today, and her clothes are faded shades of gray rather than her usual bright blouses. She doesn't look at all like the striking siren I've spent the last year battling with.
"Have you seen Craig?" She asks me before tucking pieces of hair behind her pierced ear. "I thought he'd be with you..."
I mimic her gesture, flashing my own little piercing as well. It's weird to me that he marked us both like this. It almost makes me feel like we're cattle with orange tags hanging low from our earlobes.
"He's probably s-still in the office," I utter sloppily, bringing my fingernails up and between my teeth.
She rolls her eyes. Frizzy blond locks move with the shake of her head as she sighs.
"He's in trouble," she uttered in downhearted recognition. Her phone is tucked up under one of her thighs now, and she's fiddling with the extra cloth on her sweats.
"Y-yeah," I confirm her fears, but give no details.
"He always does this," she complains lowly, leaning forward and resting her forehead in her palms. I decide to sit beside her, although I don't speak or touch to show my concern. I just sort of sit quietly and hope my presence can somehow make her feel a little better. God knows I've never done anything to make her life easier. The least I could do is just sit here and offer reassuring words.
"He doesn't mean it," I utter, rubbing my thumbs together. "He just doesn't think before he d-does things sometimes."
"That's not an excuse, though," she replies, looking up to the wall and wrapping her arms around her torso.
I'm not sure what else to say, so we both sit in silence and just let the class period wear away. Hopefully he'll show up before the period's over. He's supposed to be driving me and Clyde back to their house to pick up some sleep over things. Well, actually, he's supposed to be driving Clyde andhimself back to their house to pick up some sleep over things. I just decided to make the extra trip with them so I wouldn't be alone with Token.
I don't trust myself being alone with anyone but Craig, especially after the chat I just had with Clyde.
If it wasn't for my friends sitting right up the bleachers behind us I would have never sat beside her.
"I... guess not," I finally utter under my breath, eyes looking everywhere but at the woman beside me.
"It's like he never thinks of anyone else. He never considers that the things he does can actually hurt people. Like... me and you."
"W-what?" I sputter, nearly doing a spit take despite having nothing in my mouth.
"If he keeps getting in trouble like this, he could..." She purses her lips together and lets out a frustrated breath, stopping herself like she knows I'm fragile and doesn't want to scare me. I find that annoying. "You think he'd step back and think about how all the trouble he gets into would affect the people closest to him."
I let out a breath before looking down at my hands. I nod in a sort of agreement, but the more I hear the more I feel like a piece of crap. She doesn't even know.
She doesn't even know.
Bebe and I continue to sit next to one another despite the silence between us, and it isn't much longer before a familiar, burly form slips into the room. The blue clad figure looks around a moment, icy eyes scanning his surroundings glumly. The orbs land on me and the washed out girl I'm sitting with. His jaw clenches, and he swallows hard.
"Hey, Godzilla! Where ya been?" A certain blond blurts from the top of the steps, but Craig ignores him completely. Bebe watches his steps as he comes our way. He nods his head at her, but she only turns away from him.
He stops in front of us, peering down.
"What's wrong?" he asks the huffing woman, her jaw clenching at his words.
"Nothing," she lies.
His sharp gaze shoots to me immediately, and I shrug with a desperate look to tell him I'd said nothing he wouldn't have approved of. I hate it when he looks at me like that, like I'm some dirty little snitch.
He doesn't push her to spill what's festering in that head of hers. Instead, he sits down beside me and slumps over. Welp. This just got incredibly awkward for me, considering I'm sandwiched between him and her.
I fiddle with the excess cloth of my sweater, smoothing it out over my little stomach and pulling it down under my bottom. I sit stiffly, legs clamped together and hands resting on my knees like a little lady. At least that's what Kenny says I look like when I sit like this.
A pretty little lady.
I scoot so that I'm closer to Craig and farther from her before leaning in against his ear. He actually jerks at feeling my hands rest on him, but relaxes when he realizes I'm only trying to whisper.
"What happened?" I mutter. "What did the principal say?"
Craig looks over at me, our faces only inches apart as he murmurs back. "One more write up and I'm in in school suspension for a week."
"In school suspension?"
"He said he doesn't want me to think I've 'earned a vacation'."
I frown at that before sitting back down on the bleachers. Without thinking, I let my hand linger and squeeze his upper thigh in reassurance. It's something I've become so accustomed to doing I don't even think twice, but my face goes hot when he tenses. He shoots down a glare of warning at the intimate touch. I shiver, ripping my fingers away from him in mortification.
God damn it, Tweek. Think before you do things. Think.
I don't think she noticed the small peek into her boyfriends affair. She's still looking away from him out of frustration. Her fingers are clicking across her cell phone's keypad. He glances at her over my head, his eyes scanning her in what I interpret as worry.
He asks again, "what's wrong?"
She huffs. "Why were you so late for class?"
"Um," he stumbles in his words a bit. "I was talking to the principle."
"Why?"
"For... insubordination," falls out of his mouth like it's almost too heavy for his lips to form.
"Didn't we just have a talk about that a week ago?" she asks quietly, still not looking in his direction.
"Don't lecture me. I know fucked up, okay?" Craig growls, eyes sliding up to the massive chalk board mounted at the head of the room. Our teacher is drawing music on the board. I don't understand the lines and jumbled mess of notes.
"I know, I know," she sighs. "I'm just trying to watch out for you."
I feel Craig's eyes burning a hole into me.
"We'll talk about this later," he decides coldly.
"Yeah, yeah. Okay," she sighs in agreement. "Just... if you're going to end up spending all weekend with the guys, give me a call. I'm not used to going to bed without hearing your voice."
...
Every time I come over to stay at the Tucker's house, I spend ninety eight percent of my time locked in the blue confines of my best friend's room. There was one time a couple summers ago when I stayed with Craig for whole week, and his parents didn't even know I was there until I was caught poking through the fridge three days into my visit. I just don't like being in any room other than Craig's for very long. I'm not sure if it's the constant loud noises that scare me, or if it's the man who spends most of his time kicked back in the chair at the bottom of the stairs.
Thomas Tucker. Craig's dad.
I don't really know why I'm so horrified of him. He's never done anything bad to be, besides the occasional comments about how fruity I am... whatever that means. Maybe it's just because he's so massive, or maybe it's because of how loud he talks. Either way, when Craig, Clyde and I come moseying in through the front door, I remain hidden behind my giant of a best friend.
"How long will we be here?" I ask rather timidly from Craig's hip, peeking around it just enough to see the underside of his thick jaw.
He looks down at me, and then sucks on his lip rings in thought. "Just long enough to get our stuff," he replies. "Then we'll get to Token's."
I sigh shakily, but follow my friends as they walk through the tiger themed living room. Craig's in a hurry to get his things and go. He practically jogs up the staircase to get to his room, leaving Clyde and I in the dust. When we reach the door he's already inside. He's got a duffle bag laying out on his blue bed, and he's stuffing it with random articles of clothing. Clyde dumps everything in his backpack onto his bed before stuffing the thing just as his brother is. I stand to the side, observing while playing with the strap of my own overnight bag.
It's one of those fabric ones with the draw string on it. Clyde made fun of me when I first used it because the thing is littered with pictures of kittens. I said it was a hand-me-down from my mom to save face in front of my friends, but it wasn't. I picked it out myself because... well, who doesn't like kittens?
I turn to watch Craig stuff his duffel, and blink when I realize he has a new comforter on his bed. I still can't get over how different this place looks compared to when we were small. It's a tiny room that was truly meant for one little boy, so the two teenagers inhabiting it have overwhelmed the small space. Two beds take up the majority of their floor with one on either side of the room, and Craig's amp and small collection of guitars take up what little space he has at the foot of his bed. Messy. Their room looks very messy.
The Tucker's started repainting it dark blue a couple years ago, but never finished. A sloppy, white border remains around wood trimmings and light fixtures, and the paint is unevenly coated. There are dirty dishes and things of the sort littering Craig's makeshift night table, which is really just a cheap TV tray. Old, unfinished pieces of homework paper can be found dotting the floor, along with dirty clothes and an assortment of random odds and ends.
I curl up my nose in disgust.
"Ready?" Craig asks while zipping up his bag.
"Yup!" Clyde chirps, tossing his knapsack onto his back.
"Good. Lets fucking bail."
We hurry out the door and down the steps on Craig's heels. His boots thump against the carpeted staircase as he scrambles for the living room. As soon as he hits the bottom step, he bolts for the front door. His duffel slams against his hip with each step, and he seems relieved when his hand finally touches the doorknob.
"Ahem."
Craig stops rigid at the deep sound, and the three of us look back in momentary confusion.
"Where do you kids think you're going? Your mother's cooking supper," his father mutters from the kitchen doorway. I slide behind Craig to avoid getting caught in Mr. Tucker's line of sight.
"Oh!" Clyde speaks up. "We were just, uh... gonna have dinner at the Blacks'."
Those sharp eyes scan the young faces of his sons disapprovingly. They're a cold, narrow show of ice blue nestled into sharp, harsh features. Looking him in the face is almost like staring at Craig. Those pale eyes, long nose, and high cheek bones of his are more than reminiscent of his son's. Still, despite their strikingly similar faces, Mr. Tucker is nothing like Craig.
"She's already set the table," his voice rumbles lowly, like faint thunder. There is no room for a recoil or arguments. Just his tone is enough to let us know the decision is final.
With a twisted expression of dissatisfaction, Craig lets his duffel fall to the floor with a loud thud. His dad can make him stay, but he can't make him be happy about it. Thomas shakes his head at the boy before turning and disappearing into the kitchen, where the three of us will surely be held captive until dinner is over.
"Shit," Craig sighs.
"Hey," Clyde utters from the side of him. "We'll eat dinner, then we'll head to Token's place. No biggy."
Clyde sets his backpack down on the couch before walking past the kitchen and along the wall, where he takes a right turn into the dining room. Hesitantly, Craig follows, a look on his face that I can only describe as apprehension.
Mrs. Tucker is already setting the table when we sneak inside, a plate at each chair along with appropriate silverware. The table is quite big, at least compared to the tiny little thing we have at my house. It's a pretty, glossy dark wood with enough chairs to seat six. It doesn't match the rest of the room. Their drapes don't look nearly as new, and the light carpet is dotted with stains. They're ugly remnants of the messy children that used to eat their meals here before they grew to be us.
Mrs. Tucker is placing a fork when she happens to notice us, smiling with the same cockeyed grin Craig sometimes wears.
"Oh, hi there, Teacup," she greets me, placing her balled hands on each side of her hips. A striped green T-shirt pulls at her torso, and her bottom half is clad in a tan pair of capri pants. "I haven't seen you in forever. Where've you been hiding?"
"Um... Home?" I squeak shyly, hiding my mouth behind my hands.
"Ah, well, we're having spaghetti," she informs me, edging her way to the door connecting the dining room and kitchen. "I'll just get another plate and you can join us."
I nod, even though I don't exactly want to participate. I just really want to get to Token's house, and Craig being so... resistant... is making me all the more on edge.
Thomas is standing beside the table, straightening out some of the plates his wife hadn't finished setting up before she ran off. He glances down at me, offering a small nod of acknowledgment. I return the favor, although it looks more like a random jerk of my head than a greeting.
He looks down at the kitten-covered fabric I'm clinging in my hands, and makes a bit of a face. In complete and utter humiliation, I move it behind my back so he'll stop looking at me like I have faggot written on my forehead.
The awkward feeling in the air does not subside when we sit around the table to eat. The faint clicking of silverware against dishes is the only sound in the air, making me nervous and twitchy as I try not to draw attention to myself with my usual muttering. Craig is directly to my left, picking quietly at the meal set before him. Ruby and Clyde are across from us, just as silent, and both parents took their respective seats at the heads of the table.
It's been so long since I've had a family dinner that I'm not sure how to act. I'm spending the majority of the time trying not to twitch and jerk in fear of accidentally launching forkfuls of spaghetti across the room. Nervously, I reach for the Parmesan and drown the meaty strands of noodles in powdered cheese. Maybe that will cover the taste of the nasty vegetables infused into my noodle goodness, as I'm too afraid of seeming rude to use my fork to dig them all out.
"So, how was school?" Mrs. Tucker asks the group of teenagers seated before her. She swirls her fork around inside the mound of spaghetti on her plate, spinning the utensil to form a neat ball of noodles on the prongs.
Clyde gives a nonchalant shrug, Ruby fills the silence with a fine, and Craig says nothing. I shovel food in my mouth so that I look too busy to be bothered with such menial questions.
"How about you, sweetie?" She addresses the eldest of her children, who's been doing nothing but poking around in his food since we sat down. "Was your day alright?"
He makes a little face and shrugs, finally bringing his fork to his lips and pushing a meatball into his mouth. "Fine," he mimics his sister's response with a mouthful of food.
"S'not what the principal said today," his father interjects before wiping his sauce-covered lips with a napkin.
Craig sinks immediately. His shoulders raise up as he rests his elbows on the table, almost as if he's preparing himself for something.
"Please, Thomas," Mrs. Tucker warned lowly. "We have company, that can wait."
Craig doesn't even look up from his food, and he's still slowly chewing the same meatball as the tips of his fork go back to rearranging his plate.
"Wait? 'Till he's back from spending the night with his friends?" Thomas shakes his head. "He shouldn't be going, but every time he gets in trouble you make excuses for him. We have company, he has a headache, it's not his fault. The boy won't ever act right if you're gonna let him get away with everything all the time, Aliena."
"Yes, yes. I know. I'm a horrible, awful mother, and I should be ashamed of myself," she hisses, throwing a glare her husband's way. "I'm sick and tired of this. It's the same thing every damn time."
"Well, if you'd just listen to me the boy would stop being a little dick."
"Oh my god, do you people ever shut the fuck up?" Ruby barks with a twisted look, startling the hell out of me. "Did you ever think maybe it'syour fault we're all turning out to be pieces of shit?"
"Ruby!" Her mother blurts in disapproval.
The young girl lifts a middle finger. In frustrated retaliation, Thomas lifts one back at her. Aliena turns the offensive gesture back on her husband. Craig does not join in.
"We can't even have dinner now without going at each other, can we?" Clyde mutters. His chair groans as he pushes it out, and he launches from his seat.
"Clyde, wait," Ruby calls to him, but he's already retreating up the stairs. A sigh of frustration spills from her lips. She leaves her half full plate at the table, along with her dysfunctional family members, when she gets up to go after him. Neither of her parents try to stop her.
"Look what you've done," Aliena accuses her husband tonelessly before standing from her own chair, abandoning her meal and the sinking ship of a table.
"Me?" He shouts back, jerking up just like everyone before him to go after her.
We can hear them arguing as they retreat to somewhere deeper into the house. Craig's name is mentioned in an ugly way before all the children are addressed in the same tone. The sound of their bitter and poisonous words slowly melt away the further they get from us.
Thankfully.
Once the dust settles, I take a glance around the empty table. Their meals have all been left behind, some half eaten, some barely touched. Forks and spoons sit out messily across the polished wood.
A single click of silverware against a dish fills the lonely table with a sad tune. Craig's fork keeps swirling around in the mound of spaghetti on his plate, gathering up a bunch of noodles even though they don't make it to his mouth. His lip rings disappear as he chews on them. Eyes that were always so strong and cold have sank heavily, and hands that always seemed so sure and unrelenting are faltering around the handle of his fork.
He's all that's left.
Slowly, I inch to the edge of my seat before pressing a small, unsure hand on his arm. It's the only way I know how to comfort him. He says nothing against it, so my head is soon resting where my fingers had grazed, and my thin arms are wrapping around the thick limb. He leaves me be for quite some time after I've hidden part of my face in his arm, so I let out the smallest breath when his big left hand comes up to run through my greasy hair.
"Let's get out of here," he mutters quietly
…
Token's house is always decorated. Whether it's with leaves and pumpkins in the fall or snowflakes and snowmen in the winter, there are always nice nicknacks and pretties stacked up on mantles and hanging from drapes. It feels really homey and nostalgic with the four of us all piled up in the autumn themed theater room. Fake little fall leaves and plastic pumpkins adorn the mini-fridge and refreshment table along the back wall, placed ever so perfectly. Orange afghans hang on the back of some of the theater seats, and a little scare crow is sitting on top of the popcorn machine. It's always really pretty like this, although I think I like their winter decorations the best. When the chilly winter wind comes, so do pretty chandeliers made of crystal snowflakes, and beautiful white garland that hangs from railings. It's looks like a wonderland.
Token leans his seat back, sighing pleasantly as we all chatter about what to watch. He likes us being here. I think it makes him feel relaxed when we're around, like we help take his mind off of things like homework and studying. It's good to know we loosen him up like that.
"We should watch slasher movies. Things like Freddy and Jason," Clyde comments, kicking back in the seat beside me. Hurriedly, I shake my head in blatant disagreement.
"No! Oh no, please," I whine. "Last time you guys made me watch gory movies I couldn't sleep for a week, ugh!"
"Oh, lighten up, Teacup! They're just movies you know," Clyde chuckles from beside me. He clasps my shoulder in his hand, shaking me gently. "Just pictures on a screen. They can't hurt you."
I let out a sound that resembles a strangled cat, and Craig puffs out in amusement.
"Hey, what's so funny?" Clyde asks with a smile, like he's genuinely curious why Craig's on the other side of me shaking his head.
Craig shrugs. "You guys have the same conversation every year."
"W-we do?" I ask with a tilted head.
"Yeah," Craig mutters. "Clyde says we should watch slashers, you don't want to, he talks you into it, and then I get a call every night for a week because you think there's an ax murderer in your shower."
Token lets out a snort of a laugh when he realizes Craig's point. "It is kinda the same every year, isn't it?" he butts in while pressing buttons on his remote.
The big white theater screen has already been lowered before us, and Token uses his fancy newfangled technology to dim the lights with his remote. A selection of movies appear on the screen before us, and I scoot a little closer to Craig when I realize how dark its gotten in here.
"Hey... have you guys thought about this being our last Halloween together?" Clyde asks quietly, yet suddenly, from the side of me.
"H-huh? Why? We have our holidays together every year," I utter, twitching as I pull lightly on my hair.
"Well," he begins, pressing a knuckle into his chin. "This is going to be the last year Token and me are gonna be home. After high school's over we're getting shipped off to college. Either way, this is our last Halloween before we all go off into the world or whatever, you know."
"N-no more driving to school together in the morning?" I mutter dejectedly. "Or having lunch together, or sleeping over?"
We all go quiet, and I look up and down my little row of friends. With a deep frown, I wiggle back into my seat. Suddenly, I feel very alone.
"It'll just be really different..." Token mutters.
I'm not sure what he means by that, but it makes me feel empty. I don't want anyone to leave. I don't want Token and Clyde to go away. I don't want Craig to get a job and get married. I don't want to move out of my parents house and have to worry about things like bills and heat and where my next meal is coming from. I just wish we could stay like this forever, and nothing ever had to change.
"It's going to be weird not having you guys around," comes a candid confession from Token.
Clyde smiles while watching a selection of horror flicks scroll by on the lit screen, and Craig shifts uncomfortably.
"I'll miss you," he murmurs, his eyes staring straight forward to avoid eye contact.
"Wow, wow," Token chuckles. "Was that Craig's voice or Clyde's?"
"It was Craig, finally admitting his undying affections."
"Shut up, Clyde."
An uneven smile peeks through on the side of Token's face. He throws his arm around the guy next to him. "I'll miss you too, Craig... but I'm taken."
"Well, fuck."
Clyde is laughing much harder than he should be, leaning over the arm of his chair as he heaves out chuckles. This is when I feel something wrap around me. I stiffen in confusion when Craig pulls me to his side, gripping me close.
"Tweek's hotter than you anyway," he recoils, making my cheeks turn a deep shade of red.
Conversation silences when Clyde sees the movie he's been waiting for. When he forgets how to use words, his arms start flailing to get Token to stop scrolling.
"Ahh, Halloween, there it is right there!"
Token stops, the screen flashing as he presses on the movie our friend is so excited about.
"Ugh," I grumble to myself. I don't like these kind of movies. Crazy psycho guys swinging around butcher knives only makes me afraid to look out my window at night- not that I'm not already afraid to look out my window at night. I shake my head in nervousness, sinking low in the bright red theater chair I'm huddled in. The room quiets as my friends turn their attention to the opening credits of a movie we've seen every Halloween since we were kids. A movie I really freaking hate. My eyes scan the darkened room, lit only by the occasional flash of multicolored light from the screen. It shines on the faces of my friends, on mine too. Its a familiar light that drags my mind back through time, when the faces seated around me were softer and rounder. This is when the truth to Clyde's realization begins to sink in.
Those doe-eyed kids stayed up past their bedtime to sneak into the theater and play movies they knew their parents wouldn't want them watching. They seemed to be such forbidden taboo back then, and even as a twelve year old I didn't want any part of it. Now, though, the fresh, compelling films those children were so enthralled with are nothing but worn out old photos we only look back on to reminisce. I don't want to think about the things I'll look back on at twenty, forty, eighty- if I make it to eighty.
All I hope is that in some way we are all still together, and Craig lives up to the promises he's made to me. His arm is lingering on the back of my chair. It makes me shiver.
Halfway through the movie, a flash of light engulfs the room from the screen. Clyde and I jump, and I look over at him.
He doesn't look the same. His cheeks somehow seem sunken, and he's looking at the screen in such a way that tells me hes not really looking at it. His eyes grow a little wider, and they slide slowly in my direction. Blank and unreadable, his wide, brown orbs pierce into the black fog of darkness engulfing the room behind me. I freeze in fear, because the face he's wearing seems absolutely petrified. I jerk around, earning Craig's attention as I try to see what horrifying thing is lingering behind me.
There's nothing there.
"Clyde?" I whisper under the sound of the movie. He doesn't seem to be hearing me, and his eyes only move to follow the invisible thing that's left him so terrified.
"Hey," Craig utters, reaching around me to gently shake our gawking friend.
Clyde's gaze snaps up at the man gripping him with his jaw unhinged and eyebrows raised, but relaxes as if someone clicked off a switch in the back of his head.
"What?" he asks, dumbfounded as to why everyone's staring at him.
"Are you o-okay?" I ask with worry lacing my words.
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
Just like that, Clyde goes back to watching the movie. I stare at him for a long while as everyone else eases back into the film. He looks normal again, and I listen as he chats pleasantly with Token through the more boring parts of the film. Feeling confused and overwhelmed, I decide to step out of the room for some fresh air.
"...I'm gonna go get something to eat." I slide out of my seat, grabbing a hold of Craig's hand as I walk by his lounging form.
There's no way I'm wandering off in this dark mansion alone, especially around Halloween. Who knows what sort of horrors the Blacks' have hidden around this huge place.
He looks at Clyde for a long few seconds before standing to escort me to the kitchen. I keep my grip on him and lead the way out of the theater with my giant in toe. The sounds of screaming and booming music fade as we get further down the hall. His heavy footsteps are all that accompany my breathing until we happen upon a large staircase leading down into the foyer. The steps creak under his massive weight. A large chandelier covered in artificial cobwebs hangs low in the massive room. It's light is the only thing guiding us through the pitch black of this house.
"Why's it so dark?" he asks when we finally slip into the kitchen. He tries flipping on the light switch, but the room remains pitch black.
"D-didn't Token say the bulb blew again?" I ask, peering inside.
He shrugs, and waltzes right on in despite not being able to see a damn thing. We glide past the counter I was at one time one with, and Craig feels along the wall for the pantry. He lets out a small, pleased sound when he pulls the door open, and he flicks the light on inside.
I step in, eyes scanning shelves of canned food and boxes of cereals. A big white freezer takes up most of the space to the left of me, but the room is still big enough to walk into. I slide over to peek at the plastic packages of ramen, and reach up in a failed attempt at getting some down myself.
"Need some help?"
"No! I can get it," I argue, getting up on the tips of my toes to reach the colorful packaging.
"Hey... know what would be fun?" Craig asks. A devilish little grin appears on his face as he reaches out to squeeze my ass.
"H-hey!" I protest with a laugh, but don't pull away from him despite his rough hands gliding up and under the back of my shirt.
"We're at Token's house, you know," I remind him. I'm still trying to reach for the ramen noodles. His hands are still exploring my body.
"So? He's upstairs," Craig reasons. His fingers slip down between my thighs, and I freeze when one of the digits press somewhere rather sensitive.
"Mn," my hands still against the shelf, and I lower myself down on the balls of my feet.
"Feel good?" he breathes triumphantly.
I nod.
Without warning, he plucks me up off the floor before sitting me on top of Token's freezer. He adjusts me as he wants me, his hands gripping my hips hard.
"Lay back."
"C-Craig, I don't know if we should... you know..."
"Shh," he coos. "I'm just gonna suck."
Shivers crawl up my core at the word, and, slowly, I lay back as he told me to. His head sinks down between my legs, and he pushes me farther back against the wall.
"Ah! Stop manhandling me! You're gonna make me smack my head!" I huff out as my fingers comb up under his hat.
"Shh," he hushes from between my things, "They're gonna hear us."
"Mm," I cry out softly in retaliation before laying my cheek against the cold freezer under me.
This is definitely not something we should be doing. We're at Tokens' house, for goodness sake. Not to mention both of our friends are just upstairs. Sure, they're busy with the movie, but if they get the mind to come down after us Craig and I would be toast. He buries his face into the cloth of my pajama pants and lets out a small noise. I groan, pressing my body up against him. His big fingers slip down in the white elastic gripping my sides. He breathes hot air on my lower stomach, earning another moan from my trembling lips.
This feels so good already, too good. I swear I turn into more and more of a slut every time I'm alone with this guy.
The elastic comes down, along with my pajama pants, exposing trembling, pale skin. I lift up off the freezer, huffing quietly as the cloth slips down to my ankles. A small, smug chuckle resonates from him when he sees just how hard I've gotten, and I know immediately that I can't turn back now.
This is so wrong of us to be doing in Token's pantry. Still, I don't say a word against it when he lifts up my entrapped ankles and slips his head back between my legs. With a long, deep, exhale, he wraps my stiffened member in his fingers. He pumps gently with one hand, holding my twisting hips in place with the other.
"Mm. F-fuck, Craig," I breathe softly when a wet muscle rubs against the head. He chuckles around his split tongue, and then lets out a small breath when he takes it in his mouth. I try hard not to push up into the wet cavern when he stalls to swirl his tongue around the tip.
"Ah!" I let out thoughtlessly.
"Hey, I said to keep it down," he mutters, but quickly goes back to sucking.
I cover my mouth with my hands, small sighs pumping out of my chest with every bob of his head. His split tongue works around the shaft, saliva coating me when he takes a moment to breathe in through his mouth. His lip rings rub and tease. The hard metal slides deliciously along the length.
I cry out, tugging on the front of my sweater with a reddening face.
I slide deeper into his mouth, and up into his throat. I wiggle at the feeling, huffing before hiding my red face in my hands. Those darkening eyes look up at me, and I feel my chest bubbling.
This lustful wanting is just for me.
That hot boiling in my stomach can't take much more. I shake and shiver when he hums against it, his teeth gently grazing the skin as his lip rings had.
"Oh~ I like that," I breathe hoarsely, bucking a bit against him. He sucks harder, and my back arches up off the metal with a gasp. His hands are clamped mercilessly around my hips as I start to come, but, in fear of getting a mouth full of the gooey mess, he lets the stiff, wet arousal fall out of his lips and into his jerking hand. The white mess pours out over my lower belly as I nip down on my finger, muffling a small sound with the flesh and bone I'm biting into.
Heavy blue eyes look up at my face while he bites at his bottom lip.
"Was that okay?" he asks almost shyly as my thighs come up to clamp his thick neck between them. I nod with a stupid grin, my body shivering a bit when he leans forward to kiss my still-hard cock. I let out a small breath of a chuckle.
"Craig," I laugh, reaching down with a trembling finger to brush some hair away from his forehead. "You got some on your cheek."
I try to reach down to wipe the droplets from his skin. Before I can manage it, he lets out an annoyed groan, and his head falls down onto my stomach.
"Ew!" I complain despite my laughter. "You're gonna get it in your hair!"
He lifts his head back up, and I reach for the paper towels Token's parents keep stored in here. I rip a sheet free from the roll and use it to wipe his face clean of my mess. He gives the tissue a weird look as I do so. Backing away from the white wad, he makes a face like being touched by it's offensive. He's stuck in the trap of my thin legs, though, so he doesn't get too far.
"How did you swallow this stuff?" Craig asks with a twisted face. The tip of his pointer finger rubs the stickiness under my bellybutton.
"What?" I chuckle quietly. "It's not that gross."
He looks down at what's left on my stomach, tilting his head a bit in curiosity.
"What does it taste like?" He asks, his cheeks flushing the slightest shade of pink at the question.
"I don't know," I chuckle. "Kind of like salt, I guess. Its more the texture that makes it weird to have in your mouth."
He takes a small breath before leaning forward and dragging his tongue through the come on my midriff. He jerks back, his face twisting more than I'd ever seen. Sticking out his tongue a bit, he makes the most displeased sound. With a look like he just licked a lemon, his mouth moves, and he tries to swallow down the nasty feeling on his tongue.
"I don't want to do that again," he admits.
I find myself laughing senselessly again, my head falling back against the white surface I'm laying on. He frees himself of the trap of my legs before standing up. He rips a sheet of tissue off the roll as well, using it to clean off what's left of the evidence. I let out a pleased sound when the disposable towel rubs against my skin. He gathers up our used tissues, and urges me to tilt my bottom up so he can make me decent again.
"I can pull up my own pants, you know," I breathe out, batting him away lazily.
"Sorry," he grumbles, standing back a bit. He watches me as I twist on the metal, working the cloth back up to cover my ass. He's watching a little too closely.
"That was fun," I chuckle more childishly than I'd meant to.
He shakes his head with a grin before turning around to peek outside the door.
"I don't see anyone," he comments.
"They're still watching that movie upstairs," I sigh, slipping down off of the freezer. He steps outside the door, leaving me in the slightly darkened room to throw away the soiled tissues he's holding in his hand. I sigh a bit when I realize he's left me alone, but end up peeking around the rest of the pantry in hopes of finding a snack. Token always has the best food at his house, and he doesn't mind sharing with us as long as we don't open or finish anything. I find a bag of Doritos laying out on one of the lower shelves, and I smile when I realize I can actually reach it. I step out into the kitchen as Craig had before me, but I don't see him in the darkened room.
"Craig?" I utter, looking around the kitchen in nervousness before shrugging to myself to try and ward off fear. Once I feel a bit more comfortable, I walk across the room towards the fridge to get something to drink. My feet make a faint thumping noise against the tile floor, but it isn't the only sound I hear. It's like a faint breathing in the darkness, making shivers crawl all up and down my spine. I wipe little beads of sweat left over on my forehead away before peeking back into the shadows. Hurriedly, I throw open the fridge door to help expel some of the darkness that's engulfing the room. I can't hear the breathing anymore, and I can't see anything. I sigh shakily in relief. This house and all it's creepy ass decorations must be putting me on edge. I'm always freaked out and nervous around Halloween as it is, anyways. I shake my head to help further dispel my fear, and then reach inside the large fridge for a bottle of tea. I freeze completely when I hear the unmistakeable sound of a low moan.
I jerk around.
"Craig?" I call back into the large kitchen. I'm met with only silence, but my paranoid eyes can't stop scanning the dark. I'm just waiting for some freakish monster to pop out from the sheet of black and try to eat my flesh! It's just like a crappy horror flick, scandalous hormone crazed teenagers and all!
I squeal loudly when another groan resonates through the room. It's much, much closer than it was before. I breathe heavily, quickly pulling out my iPhone to use as a flash light before slamming the fridge closed. In the faint blue lighting of my cell phone screen, I'm suddenly met with the horrid sight of a mutilated body sliding towards me.
I scream bloody murder. In a horrible panic, I throw my Doritos at the twisted creature, crying out in fear as I turn to escape the long arms it's grabbing at me with. I can hear it sliding after me across the floor. It's incessant moaning and hissing is trailing behind me as I make a break for the door into the living room. I trip over my own feet before I make it there, tumbling helplessly to the floor. I lose the grip on my phone during the tumble, along my only light source and the precious device as it flies somewhere across the room. I feel something rub against my toes, followed by a low gurgling from the horrible thing's throat. I try to kick it away with flailing legs, but it just keeps coming at me, wailing with a loose, unhinged jaw. By this point I'm crying as I crawl across the floor to get away. Somehow, I manage to stand back up and make my escape towards the foyer.
"Tweek?" I hear a familiar voice call from the room I'm trying to escape to. The foyer light flicks on, and the first thing I see is the massive form of my best friend looking in at me with worry and confusion.
"GAH! Craig!' I scream, running up to him and throwing my arms around his hips. "There's something in the kitchen! Holy f-fuck! There's a monster!"
I'm too hysterical to will myself to better explain that azombie just tried to rip the flesh from my bones.
"Monster," Craig mimics with the sound of pure confusion, his head tilting to the side.
That's when the disgusting groan comes gurgling back up to my ears. I whip around only to see the horrible thing hasn't quite finished lusting for my tender brains. hysterically, I jerk on Craig's clothes, letting out long strings of horrified babble as the creature pulls its torso of a body towards us.
"Tweek, calm down," Craig utters to me, his hand gently finding the back of my head. The creatures long, boney arms are covered in tattered and leathery skin, and I literally start climbing up Craig like a tree as the mutilated creature uses the creaking things to reach for me. Craig sighs, leaning down and picking me up by under my arms. He holds my shivering form on his hip like a mother to a toddler, and the vial creature bumps lazily against the front of his legs as it mindlessly claws at nothing. I look down at it from my spot safely perched in Craig's arms. He gets a disgusted look on his face before pressing the edge of his boot against the thing's forehead, slowly sliding it back into the kitchen and away from him. The horrifying, flesh eating zombie lets out another low groan, and I realize it's arms are letting out a weird squeaking sound.
"It's plastic, " Craig coos to me, using his foot to push the thing around while trying to keep his balance. "See?"
He retracts his boot, and the half-a-zombie scoots across the floor to yet again bonk against the front of his legs.
"Persistent little fuck," Craig mutters.
I go limp in his arms, complaining lowly about Token and his stupid zombies.
"We should get back upstairs," he decides. "They're going to wonder what we're doing."
...
I laid on the hard wood floor of Craig's closet, just doodling away with Bob laying out on my back. It was winter then, making it far too cold for daily visits to the park. That kind of sucked, because playing spaceman was about a million times more fun when he had a real ship to play in. Nonetheless, we improvised very well. Ruby let us keep the crib and baby things for Bob, so Craig and I spent most of the winter tending to her.
Oh, and scavenging for food on the freezing alien planet we crash landed on.
Craig's closet was the damaged shell of a ship we settled down in with hopes of surviving until the planet warmed up enough for us to find an escape. Bob and I rarely left the safety of the shuttle. Craig was the one to always venture out into cold blizzards and barren, unforgiving terrain in search of food. I would stay behind to watch and coddle the baby. The little family we had going on was actually kind of cute.
We did a lot of really cute things when we were bitty.
The space hatch lifted, making me jerk in fear and break my yellow crayon. "Aw!" I let out in disappointment before dropping the thing and looking up at the little boy shuffling his way into the spacecraft and out of the cold. He had a burlap sack he carried over his shoulder, full of his finds.
"You're back!" I rejoiced, standing with Bob to inspect the loot he'd brought home for us. "What did you get?"
He let the bag fall down to the floor, and started digging into the bottom.
"I found some bugs."
He laid out a plastic package filled with multicolored gummy bears.
"And some more of those round fruits you liked."
He laid out another bag of peach rings.
I let out a small, celebratory sound at his discoveries, and then picked some of the fruity circles from their clear packaging.
"What are you doing?" he asked when I sat down and went back to scribbling on my paper with a waxy red utensil.
"I'm m-making a fire place so we can be warm!" I replied proudly. Red and yellow scribbles reminiscent of flames littered the large sheet of paper in front of me, and Craig nodded his head at the idea.
"We should put it right there," he said, pointing to the long wall between Bob's crib and our makeshift bed. I nodded in elated agreement, and we sloppily used a little roll of scotch tape to stick the paper up on the wall.
We had a lot of things taped up to the walls. Some were symbolic of household appliances and things, like blobs of colors that were supposed to be used as a stove and refrigerator despite the doodles only being a few inches tall. There were a lot of pictures of us, too. Well, they were supposed to be us. They looked more like blue and green blobs with a little gray thrown in there for Bob, but they served their purpose. I even went so far as to scribble brown borders around them to make them look like they were in picture frames.
I really, really liked being his housewife.
Once our fire was set up and we were stuffed on junk food, we put Bob in her crib and climbed into our own makeshift bed. We laid close, as it was always cold in his house in the winter, and he pulled his warm Red Racer comforter up over our little bodies. Huddled and warm, we molded together as we always had, and the rise and fall of our chests synchronized for sleep. I could see a smile on his face from the dim light seeping through his blanket.
"I like it when you smile," I admitted, poking his cheek with a small finger.
"I don't. Braces are gross."
"They are not! Braces are cute!"
"Are you calling me cute?"
"Wh-... No!"
I shifted on my pillow, groaning lightly as he laughs at my expense.
"So, where do you want to go when we finally get off this planet?" he asked with a yawn. I cuddled closer to combat the cold.
"... I don't want to leave."
"Huh? Why not?"
I played shyly with the front of my shirt, big green eyes downcast in embarrassment. "...I like being a family with you and Bob," I whispered quietly.
Silence filled the air between us as he registered my confession.
"... Yeah... me too."
I smiled. "If the universe didn't n-need spacemen to protect it I'd want to stay here forever."
"We don't have to be here to be a family. Me and you- we'll always be together."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Our pinkies wrapped around one another to bind us to the pact, and soon after I fell asleep with him on the dusty floor of the abandoned space shuttle.
When I came back the next day, the house was eerily silent. I can recall that much. The usual loudness and chaos that accompanied walking through the front door of the Tuckers' home had mysteriously disappeared, leaving my ears ringing horribly loud. Usually, on such a bright day, there were sounds of kids fighting and screaming, pots banging around in the kitchen, and the television turned up to annoyingly high levels to drown it all out. Not that day, though, and that's how I knew something was wrong. Horribly wrong, like the entire family had been murdered or Craig's mutilated body was waiting for me around the corner somewhere.
Okay, so maybe it wasn't anything quitethat wrong, but I knew something was off. Then again, maybe that was just my paranoia talking. I was infamous for jumping to horrifying conclusions with little evidence to support it. Especially when it came to Craig.
I creeped through the house, eyes wide and alert as I searched the floor for red speckles. Luckily, I didn't come across any on my way to the staircase. With a steadying huff I willed myself to climb the stairs, and, once at the top, I called out for my friend. He didn't answer, so I kept walking until I found myself standing in front of his bedroom door.
I knocked loudly. "Craig? Are you in there?"
Still nothing. With a lopsided twist of my mouth, I turned the handle and slowly peeked inside.
I saw him.
He sat alone on his bed, curled in on himself like a roly-poly bug. My shoulders immediately went limp at the sad sight. My eyes traveled from his chubby frame to the walls behind him. They were stripped clean of all his posters of space shuttles and astronauts, and my pretty glow-stars had all been missing. I approached him wearily through the disheveled bedroom, stepping on blankets and old toys before reaching and hoisting myself up onto his mattress.
"Hi, Craig," I greeted with a squeak, hoping my presence would make him happy, as it always had before. However, I received no reply. Frowning, I spoke again. "What's the matter? What happened to your room?"
He shook his head between his knees, which were clamped to his skull on either side. I watched in sadness as the black lump of hair sank a little lower between his legs. His hands were both balled into tight little fists, but one didn't seem to be closing all the way. I reached out, poking it gently before asking, "Wacha got there?"
He didn't reply, and his grip didn't let up in the slightest. Trying to be careful, I slowly worked his fingers open with my own until I could make out a piece of what he was clinging so tightly to. He was squeezing so hard to a plastic star that the edges were imbedding into the tender flesh of his fist. I squeaked in worry before forcing the pretty plastic away from him so that he wouldn't hurt himself with it. His shoulders rolled up, and I slipped my little fingers into his tightening fist as a replacement for his star. There wasn't much movement from him after that. He just sat there for the longest time, all curled up and squishing my digits in his meaty grip.
I glanced around the room once again, eyebrows furrowed in anxiousness. The door to Bob's room hung open, and I could see from his bed that her cradle and baby things had vanished. Not even so much as a pacifier had been left behind.
"W-the shuttle's open," I noticed aloud. "Where's Bob?"
"She's gone," he replied quietly through the cloth of his pajama bottoms.
"What?!GAH! Oh no! I knew the aliens would find her! C-come on, Craig! We have to go and save her!" I got up from the bed, pulling hard on my friend's arm to get him up to come with me.
"No, Tweek," he argued while trying to jerk his limb out of my grasp.
"Wh-... But we're spacemen! It's our job to help everybody that's in trouble! Especially Bob, you said so!"
"No!" he snapped, his head finally jerking up to look at me.
The face he wore wasn't the happy, innocent one I'd become so used to. It looked like Craig, the sharp and callous one I've come know now.
"Don't you get it? Aliens aren't real! We aren't spacemen! Our ship's just a pile of pipes, our laser guns are just Nerf blasters, and Bob is just a stupid doll!"
I found myself gawking at him in disbelief, but my confusion quickly turned to anger.
"Don't say that!" I screamed, tugging on him even harder. "It's not just make-believe, Craig! It's not!"
"I said let go!"
In his fury, he ripped his arm away from me, and I went tumbling down onto his carpet. A small cry slipped out of me when I landed on my back with a heavy thud, and I rolled over slowly while trying to regain my breath. I coughed, and Craig jumped up from his bed.
"Tweek?" he cried out, coming down beside me. "Are you okay?"
I nodded my head despite the tears pricking my eyes. He didn't seem too convinced, though. His hands worked their way under my shoulders, and I let out a little squeak when he helped me sit back up. He looked like he could burst into tears any second, which left me awestruck. I had never seen him look so upset before. I opened my aching fist to see that the plastic star I took from him managed to poke and sink into my skin. He looked down at the green thing, his face falling drastically.
"I don't understand," I whispered, water leaking from me. "Why don't you want to save Bob? She's our baby, Craig."
"Tweek, she isn't a baby... She's just a toy."
I shook my head, a small sob working its way out of me. "No. No she's not, and you know it!"
The line that formed his mouth stiffened, and he shook his head.
"Boys don't play with stars," he said as if it was something he had rehearsed, or had been fed to him so many times that it got lodged in his heart. "They don't play with baby dolls, and they don't play house with other boys."
"W-why not?" I asked downheartedly.
"I..." he uttered in response. He looked around the room for direction, but bare walls and disheveled toys didn't give him the answer.
"I don't know," he croaked softly. His round face scrunched up, and he hid it from me in his hands. Little blue clad shoulders shook, and small, wet sounds of sorrow fell from the cracks between his chubby fingers. I watched with a broken spirit as he tried to catch his tears in his hands.
It never happened before or since. There were rare occasions throughout our lives I thought I saw a sad twitch of his lip or a wet glisten in his eyes, but never a tear. I sputtered and twitched at the sight before reaching out for him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he let his head fall onto my shoulder. Salty water soaked into my sleeve as he heaved, and we never played spaceman again.
Dahmereatsrainbows, Summmmmer, Vcorrigan, Tribal Moon Ma'iingan, Hubajoob, Ms Briar, ForTheLoveOfCOFFEE, Guest, Zelach, CREEK4EVER, Guest2, Guest3, thank you for the reviews!
*I'd like to also thank Vcorrigan for the awesome fanart!