Note: This chapter gets more rated n17 than anything previous. The warning had been made.
2.4 Admittance of Undenied Amour
a-mour
1. a love affair
2. illicit or secret love affair
When one pawn is moved in a game of chess, sometimes, the fate can be decided. Sometimes, pawns establish agendas of their own, and despite gravitutity destroying the fragility of the chalice, poised gingerly above the fray, the physics of the world often unsets the stability people function around for day-to-day living.
Waiting seemed to be the worst part. Counting each minute that past in anticipation since the storm had broke and the calm preceded. A chilled wind followed, mirroring how Tweek felt since Craig had left that night. Anxiety had been immediate as he darted glances to his parents that morning, hoping they did not know, but that tempered to a bone-chilling cold as the day progressed and it seemed nothing had changed.
Days blurred together, spotted with small flares of anger and defeat as long, freckled fingers entwined with small, girlish ones painted pink. At each shy look passed between the couple, at each lunch time recess Craig spent with his hands on her hips, he lost it a little more. He should have known better, Craig forever would be the ultimate manipulator, getting what he wanted only when he wanted it, not caring about the torment left in his wake. He should have known trusting those pitiful, glowing green eyes full of lust had been foolish. How many times had his friend backed away out of shame, how many times had he lied?
He should have known nothing changed in the eyes of Craig Nommel.
Every day, Tweek pretended to be alright. Every day, he swallowed his emotions like scalding coffee as he got ready for school, wiped away the wetness that streaked down his cheeks, and boxed away any signs of breaking up on the inside. Every day, he boarded the bus, sat next to Craig, and warred with the idea of slamming his head into the bus window as he chatted with his friends about their nights and homework problems that particularly gave them difficulty. Every day, the nail drove a little deeper that he would never be anything more than a friend, never more than one night of arousal.
And every day, he realized it was harder to hate the one person he loved more than anything else than quietly suffer. Each day Red, blushing a pretty shade of pink, joined them for lunch and held Craig's hand, it felt like needles gushing through his veins. Each day she hugged Tweek goodbye and included him into her group of friends, he wanted to dig his grave and die. It was no wonder the black-haired boy had chosen her as his girlfriend; she was sweet, considerate, intelligent, and managed to know when was appropriate to join them, and when she should be with her girlfriends. But at every kiss Craig delivered to her, every murmured whisper in her ear, the blonde found it harder to keep composure.
But he still couldn't hate Craig. He tried desperately, cursing, spitting his name, drawing pictures and destroying them, cutting every image of them together into tiny shreds, but at the end of it all he could do was cry until there was nothing but an aching numbness left. Through it all, his scarlet-eyed shadow watched and purred sweet temptations, but even that couldn't remedy the despair Tweek felt. Because he didn't know how to be a friend to someone that continuously hurt him, he didn't know how to be just a friend to someone that meant so much more, and he had thought felt it too.
Weeks past, and the weather chilled as leaves fell in the wind, leaving skeletons of the trees that lined the small town. October was a short week away, leaving the kids pondering what "grown up" kids do on a night like Halloween. It was a lunch without Red hovering near that Token announced a Halloween party would be occurring at his house this year. Sitting on the back steps they excitedly discussed the possibilities.
"Maybe Bebe and I will do a couples costume! Like Grease, she'd look cute in one of those poodle skirts," Clyde said with a grin, wagging his bushy eyebrows as he snacked on a bag of Cheesy Poofs.
Craig inclinded his head as a wicked smile erupted on chapped lips. "Maybe we could all do a Grease theme. I think Tweekers over here would also work a poodle skirt well."
Tweek barely heard it as Token nudged his shoulder with a laugh. He looked up at those mischevious green eyes that made him shudder and shake his head back and forth.
"N-n-no I don't think so," he managed weakly, hating the pang of emotion that welled up. Why did Craig have to say things that contradicted how he acted with Red around? Why did he have to give him those looks that almost, almost made the blonde think he might actually care?
This time Clyde nudged him. "Oh come on Tweek! Team player! Some lipstick, smooth that hair of yours down, you might even match Bebe for cuteness."
A hum of agreement as Craig gave him a once-over. "Mm, you would be a pretty girl."
Tweek shot him a look of anger as, nails driving into his palms as he shook with the turmoil that had been eating at him. Without thinking he spat, "That'd make you happy, wouldn't it?" Before he could register Craig's shocked look, he turned tail and ran up the steps and back inside, leaving the others in questionable silence behind.
Shit. Why had he said that? Ducking into an empty alcove he slammed his shaking fists into the wall and leaned his head against the cold concrete. He hated that he seemed to have no control over himself. But how true had the comment been? If Tweek was a girl, maybe Craig wouldn't be so ashamed of him. A feeble laugh escaped him as he thought back years prior to when things were simpler, when they were best friends without conditions, before everything got confusing and bad between them.
They had been in the bathtub after a grueling game of spacemen, bargaining each other with questions that had to be answered. He remembered it like the back of his hand, as, bubbles running down his face he had asked, "Would you still like me if I was a girl?"
Craig had balked, a struggle written across his face at the question. At the time, Tweek thought he wouldn't want to be his friend if he were a girl, but now, he thought maybe Craig would have preferred it that way, because his own emotions would have made more sense. Craig had just shaken his head and said, "I don't know, it'd be different if you were a girl. I don't know what'd I do, okay?" That had been one of their last conversations before everything went to Hell in a handbasket. What irony.
"Tweek?" his voice sounded over his shoulder, startling him, but he didn't turn around, didn't know if he could face Craig right now.
"What?" he asked blandly, trying, desperately, to keep his voice in check, emotions reigned in.
Craig reached out to touch him, but thought better of it. He licked his lips, feeling uncertain and lost; he rarely saw Tweek like this, and it tore at him, knowing he was the cause of this feeble Tweek, tore at him so much he had to hide new scabs across his wrist. "What was that about?"
"Forget about it."
"No."
"Go away. I don't need you," Tweek forced out as tears burned at his eyes, hoping, just once, Craig would back off.
"I know," Craig whispered dejectedly, rubbing at his wrist. "But I need you."
That did it. Tweek whirled around and shoved Craig away, heat evident in those chocolate eyes. "No you don't! If you did, you wouldn't fucking lie to me! If you did, you wouldn't be so goddamned ashamed! You don't need me any more than I should need you!"
Anger flared in Craig's own eyes as his face contorted. Tweek flinched back as a deadly calm took over Craig, knowing his luck may have just ran out. He pushed Tweek back into the wall, a small sound of pain groaning from him as his head connected against the concrete that he found cool solace in just a few moments ago.
"Damnit, Tweek, shut up! You don't know a fucking thing, do you? You don't know how hard this is for me—"
"For you? What about me?" Tweek implored, holding his aching head, having a hard time fighting the tears back now. "You think this is just fun and games over here in Crazytown? Get the fuck out of here, Craig."
"You asked what I'd do if you were a girl years ago; you think I want you that way? I didn't give you an answer then. Want the answer now? We wouldn't be friends then, Tweek. We wouldn't be anything. I don't want you to have tits and a pussy any more than you want me to be with Red," he said slowly, deadly, glaring down at Tweek. At the guilty look elicited from the blonde he smirked. "You think I haven't noticed? Do you forget we're best friends? That I know you more than you may know yourself? That I really wouldn't notice the lame attempt at hate?"
Tweek's face burned with embarrassment – he should have known. Craig always was inquisitive, always found it fun to people watch and observe those around him. Craig always could tell how he was feeling. "Then why lie to me if nothing was going to change?"
Craig shrugged, fighting back his own internal war. "I lied to protect you, I lied to protect us."
Between anger, hurt, denial, rejection, and intense desire Tweek found himself, but this time, anger won. He lashed out, curled fist slamming into Craig's mouth. Craig stumbled back as he bit through his lip, stinging pain blurring his vision momentarily. His hand wiped blood away as red tinted his vision as Tweek said, "The only thing you're protecting is your reputation. You had no intention to break up with Red, you just used me."
Craig spit blood onto the scuffed linoleum, his jaw and lip throbbing. His mind flashed to their fight in third grade, surprised at how such a twitching, paranoid person could pack that kind of aggression. He shrugged, pain cutting as he saw the tears streaking down Tweek's ruddy face, but he ignored it. "Yeah? Well, fuck you then."
"Big words, Craig. Nothing I haven't heard from you before. I think, at this point, I'd be more shocked if you admitted you had feelings," Tweek scoffed. It seemed, that was Craig's trigger, as the next thing he remembered was Kyle pulling Craig off of him, and them both being sent separately to the clinic and detention. All the while he questioned why that was what fed Craig's emotion.
...
Nothing changed between them after three days of in school suspension, countless questions between their friends, and silence on their own ends of the turmoil. Friday evening Tweek sat at the kitchen table, head in his hands as he fought a headache that had been nagging the back of his senses since his head slammed into the wall by Craig's shove, while his mother idly hummed Irish folklore songs as she busied herself making supper. The wind howled outside, making the battle songs and tales of woe wordlessly hummed a tad eerie and even more miserable. It fit his mood perfect, dark and dreary since the fight that pushed each to their limits.
Craig was a fool; Tweek was a fool. Why was it the Nommel boy thought he could make Tweek wait by anxiously for him to be ready to admit himself to everyone? Why did it tear at the blonde that Craig was still so indecisive, that it seemed Craig still cared? Sometimes, Tweek wished he didn't, wished that Craig would forget it all and not say cryptic things, act so feverishly confused. Sometimes, he wished Craig knew just how bad it hurt him to be ignored, to be pushed to the breaking point, to be forgotten.
Tweek sighed into the steaming cup of coffee that was placed before him, the foam that had been so cleverly crafted into a heart dissipating into a ruin. How fitting, he thought with a small laugh.
"Honey, what's wrong?" Eavan finally asked as she dried her hands on a hand towel decorated with ivy and flowers. She pulled one of the bar stools out and sat across from him, a frown painted on nude-glossed lips. "You've been down. Is everything alright?"
He gave a quick nod, damp hair from his shower slapping him in the face. "Yeah Mom, I'm okay. Just tired. It's been exhausting."
She leaned back in her chair, knowing better as she offered him a cookie from the platter in the center of the table. "What's going on with you and Craig? You guys don't often get into physical fights."
"I don't know, he said something that made me angry, maybe my meds aren't working anymore," he said, taking the offered oatmeal cookie and nibbling on it, keeping his eyes diverted from that knowing motherly gaze. He knew she wouldn't believe him, because he knew she knew he had stopped taking his meds again, but he didn't want to talk about it. Instead, he asked, "Mom, why do people lie?"
She cocked her head in concern and pushed her curls behind her ears as she pondered the appropriate response. "Well, dear, some people lie to get out of trouble and to protect themselves. Others lie to protect other people. Some people lie to make someone feel better, like when I tell your father his lemonaide is fine, when I really would rather poor it down the toilet because it's way too sour." Tweek smiled at that, looking up for the first time since she sat down. "But mostly, I think people lie because they're afraid of the truth and who may find out about the truth."
Tweek thought about it as he sipped on his coffee, a considering look taking over his expression. That would explain it, not that Tweek hadn't already known that Craig was afraid to admit the truth to anyone. He himself had admitted that, by asking him if it had been enough that he finally told Tweek his feelings. "That makes sense," he finally said.
Eavan smiled as she reached out and petted his hair, a burst of warmth at seeing her son happy, even for a mere moment. She considered, then, how she was going to approach him about Craig. "Honey, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"
Cocking his head, so much like herself, a puzzled look in those caramel colored eyes he shook his head. "N-no. You know you can ask me anything, Mom."
"Did you and Craig have a fight about a girl?"
Eavan felt bad, knowing she was setting him up, when he choked on his coffee and started coughing. Eyes watery and eyes round in shock he shook his head vigorously, a small tremor shaking his body. "Oh my GOD Mom! N-n-no! We didn't fight about a girl! Gyah! Why would you even think that?!"
She had to hide her smile at his overreaction to such a question, and wondered which girl may be on his mind that he would put himself into a tizzy over. "Well, Tweek darling, most boys your age do notice girls and may fight over them, especially such good friends like you and Craig."
Again, he shook his head wildly. "I don't like girls, Mom."
Butterflies fluttering in her stomach, nerves a mess, she knew now was the moment to bring up the question that had been idly prodding in the back of her mind. "Oh, well, Tweek….do you like Craig?"
Tweek's face burned red as his eyes widened at the implication. His gaze darted back and forth like an animal trying to find a way to escape the predator, and he swallowed hard. "I—n-n-no…Mom w-w-hat, are you calling me g-gay?"
She wanted to wrap him up and tell him it was okay, wanted to take the pained, embarrassed look off of her baby's face, but she had to press. "I didn't say that, did I? I asked if you liked Craig. I mean it's natural to have feelings for the people you are around most, you know."
"I. Don't. Like. Craig," he said dejectedly, putting emphasis between each word. "That's gross. That's a sin. Do you think I'm a sinner?"
Folding her arms over her chest, an eyebrow raised she merely asked, "Why are you lying to me, honey?"
He stopped dead at that. His heart raced, blood pounded in his ears as his mouth moved wordlessly. He left lightheaded. How did she possibly know? How could she? But he knew she did, and he could see it in those intelligent eyes of hers. "H—how?"
"The night of the storm, when Craig stayed over, I heard you two fighting. While Craig is like a son to me after everything, those few years he never came by, I wanted to slap some sense into him, I didn't understand why he stayed away. But that night, I understood how hard it is for him, and some of what influences his choices."
By then, the shocked look had turned to despair as Tweek hid his face. His ears burned in embarrassment. "Are you ashamed of me, too?" he asked brokenly.
Without a thought Eavan was around the table, pulled his damp head to her chest in a threateningly tight hug. "Baby, I could never be ashamed of you. Why would you think that?"
"He is," he whispered, voice cracking as the tears fell. She kissed his head gingerly, her heart breaking for her fragile little boy.
"Tweek honey, I don't think Craig is ashamed of you. I think he's battling with himself inside about what he thinks is right. You have to remember, Craig comes from a family that goes to church every Sunday and is taught by the book that anything not considered normal is considered a sin. It has to be hard on him having that kind of pressure on him. He'll come around, he seems to really care, even though he has a tough time admitting it."
Eavan had questioned herself since Dr. Rizzo had mentioned Tweek may have an attraction toward Craig, had questioned how she would feel when the topic finally came up. Now, with her son grasping the front of her shirt and wiping his nose on her, she realized gender didn't matter, heart ache was heart ache and all she wanted was to make Tweek feel better about his troubles.
"I don't know," he said, pulling away to wipe his eyes. "He's dating a girl."
Well, that was something she didn't know. Still, she wouldn't let that detail get in the way. "What's love without a little stepping stone in the way? Cheer up, baby. You want my honest opinion?" A small nod. "If he loved her, he wouldn't have such strife with you. I know Craig, darling, and I saw the how much he hurt for you. I know it probably doesn't feel good to see him with her, but you have to give him the time he needs. He's not going to stop loving you, just like I won't. So don't worry."
He smiled weakly as he wiped his flowing nose on his sleeve. "Really?"
"Yuppers!"
Nervously he looked toward the door, and she knew what he was going to say would pain her. "Don't tell Dad, okay? H-he isn't as nice as you. H-he would be ashamed." As much as Eavan wanted to deny the claim, all she could do was extended her pinky in agreement as she mentally filed away the need to talk to Richard. With that she sent him upstairs with coffee and cookies in hand and watched the grey clouds roll in out the window, hoping everything really did turn out okay, and worried how Craig was handling everything.
...
Craig thought he was finally sorting everything out within himself, until he showed up.
It was a few weeks before the scheduled Halloween party, and everyone had figured out just what they were doing. Clyde and Bebe were sticking with the Grease themed idea, Token had bought a Hollywood makeup artist to turn him into a Walking Dead zombie, Tweek was undecided, and Red had begged him to be Edward Cullen out of Twilight fame. He fought with himself whether he wanted to do a couple's costume, or if he even wanted to go with Red in the first place; not that he didn't like her, but as he spent his nights awake and thinking, he was coming closer to a conclusion date with her to satisfy his need to be with Tweek. For the first time in a very long time his wrists were completely healed to pink scars that would fade, his scalp didn't ache from constantly pulling his hair in consideration, and anger didn't pulse in his veins at himself. He felt okay about his decision, okay with the thought of pushing his blonde up against the lockers and kissing him hard while everyone else watched in astonishment.
His blonde.
Even sitting at the lunch table with his arm idly thrown over Red's slim shoulders as she chatted away with Clyde, he couldn't control the blood that coursed lower at the thought of his tongue tasting coffee on Tweek's lips, hands sliding under one of his ridiculous cat sweaters, across his slender hips and flat stomach, higher to tease those small pale buds on Tweek's chest. He ground his fingers into his leg, hoping the pain may redirect his thoughts elsewhere, but instead he found himself watching Tweek as he sipped on his packed thermos of coffee, mind flashing back to the night of the storm and having the blonde's lips kissing his pale, freckled stomach, lower, lower, low—
"Luffins, I asked you a question. Pay attention, retard," Clyde scoffed, kicking him under the table. Craig jumped, realizing they were all starting at him.
"Yeah, and what was that?"
"How are you going to get vampire eyes for your costume?"
He shrugged, wanting to strangle Clyde for asking such an idiotic question that drew him from his thoughts. "I dunno, contacts maybe you shitbrick?" Red gave him a look that said his language was inappropriate before they launched into a discussion of whether Token could get them cool contacts with his Hollywood networks.
His groin still throbbing from his previous fantasy, Craig smiled behind his hand as he got an idea. Nonchalantly he touched Tweek's legs under the table with his foot – receiving a muffled "gyah!" and a glare in response. He glanced away as he ran his foot slowly up the blonde's twitching leg, knocking his knees open to rub the blonde's crotch with his Vans. Tweek's ears turned bright red at the contact as he swallowed back an obvious moan. Craig leaned onto his hand, glancing up at the blonde under his bangs coyly, wagging his brows suggestively. The flustered look on Tweek's face only added to his desire, flashing the idea through his mind of throwing him down on the table right here and now.
Quit it, Craig, you're going to rip your pants if you get any harder from this, he thought to himself. But god, what he wouldn't do to have those small, nervous hands of Tweek that steadied with experience wrapped around himself in the worst of ways. Jeez, he was going to have to take a trip to the bathroom before class if he couldn't get it under control.
Thinking what he was, Craig didn't notice the cafeteria get silent in waves from the front corridor toward their table at the back, that is until he noticed the look of shock on Tweek's face and the tears of happiness erupt in his caramel eyes. Slowly he turned toward the source of hushed whispers, mouth dropping open at the sight of the tall, lanky boy standing in the door way dressed in scuffed combat boots, baggy cargo pants, a green sweater rolled to the elbows to expose tanned olive skin, brown hair a spiky mess, a cocky smile narrowed in on his blonde.
"Fuck," he uttered as Tweek jumped out of his seat and went running, stumbling awkwardly over his shoes, until he got close enough to jump, straight into the waiting arms of him. Clyde began a standing ovation that followed suit around the cafeteria between their classmates with hoots and hollars. Craig, on the other hand, glared in their direction, heart dropping at the joy written on his blonde's face. Even Red was clapping happily for them as she tried to pull Craig up to his feet.
"Look how happy he is," she said with a smile, leaning on his shoulder. "I bet it's been a while since they've seen each other."
"Mmhmm," he agreed blandly, thinking it should have been a lot longer since he came back. He watched stormily, mood ruined as Christophe set Tweek back on his feet, a slight change of color to his face at all the attention they were garnering.
"Maybe we ought to return to your table, oui?" the boy said, ruffling his hair in embarrassment as the kids finally turned away and conversations started up again. Tweek, star-struck, could only nod in agreement as the French boy lead him through the throngs.
"Wh-what are you doing here?" Tweek finally managed to say. Craig, glowering, had a similar thought, but he swallowed his distaste as the two friends sat down across from him.
"Muzza took a temporary teaching position 'ere at Denver Univairsity," he said bluntly, raising Craig's hopes that this really was a temporary occurrence. "We will be 'ere for the rest of ze term, maybe longer depending on if zey find a replacement. She zough I may also need to zee my friend."
"Why didn't you tell me? I would have planned something!"
"I wanted et to be a surprise, Twitchy, and I can zee zat was successful," he said, the smile never escaping his lips. He turned toward the others at the table and tipped an imaginary hat in greeting. "Et ez good to meet you all, friends of Tweek. I am Christophe."
Token was the first to extend his hand to shake. "I'm Token Black," jacking a thumb at Clyde he said, "That's Clyde, the redhead is Bertha, but we all call her Red, and that is—"
"Craig," Christophe said with a nod, that shit-eating grin never wavering. "Oh I 'ave 'eard so much aboot you, mon connard. Et ez a pleasure finally to meet you."
The imploring look into Tweek's eyes wasn't enough to temper him. A straw from his milk between his lips, Craig couldn't help himself as he lifted both fist into his customary two-fingered salute. "How about you go fuck yourself, Christophe?"
As the boys shook their heads, not expected much less from Craig, and Red clamped her hand over her mouth disapprovingly, Craig grabbed his lunch tray and made his exit, slamming it down on top of the trash bin on his way out. Hands jammed into his pockets he cut around the corner, out the front door into the bitter October wind, and around towards the empty football field, thoughts jumbled all the way.
Why now, why would Christophe – his biggest competitor for Tweek's attention – show up now out of the blue? Why when he had just about sorted through his emotions, his turmoils, his internal war? How was he suppose to pry Tweek away from his long-lost friend long enough to explain himself, his feelings, give into his ultimatium?
Slamming his fist into the cold, hard metal of the bleachers, the Nommel boy pointed his fingers upwards toward the grey roiling sky. "Yeah, if this was a test of my nerve, you can go fuck yourself, God. This isn't fair."
Maybe it wasn't a test, he considered as he plopped down on one of the bleachers, the metal cold against his neck as he stretched out, hearing the recess bell for his lunch period on the wind. Watching the clouds roll and wave over each other, he bit his lip in thought. Maybe this was a perfectly timed warning, that he should back off and forget his place, remain with Red, ignore emotion he may have for Tweek. Fuck, would that be hard to do.
Maybe he could move and leave this town; Tweek wouldn't even notice, the way he lit up at the sight of Christophe. Sitting up, elbows on his knees, finger twined in his hair, he laughed to himself. Tweek never looked like that to see him, he either looked nervous, afraid, stubborn, unbending, irritated, but never star struck. All the years of being best friends, of holding back a geyser of emotion, he couldn't make Tweek look as happy as he did seeing that prick.
"Mother fucker, maybe I had it wrong," he said to himself, kicking the ground in redemption. This had to be proof that Tweek lied about loving Christophe, no one not in love would be so simply astounded to see another person like his blonde was. But maybe Tweek wasn't his anymore. Maybe he had no claim on him afterall. Maybe, maybe, maybe, the situation was soaked too far in maybes for Craig to be anything but pissed.
"Are you planning on joining us at some time? Twitchy is worried at your absent," a gruff, nonchalant voice said, grating on Craig's nerves more than anything at that moment. He whirled around at the clink of a Zippo lighter and watched as the boy inhaled a drag of his cigarette, blowing smoke his way, blue eyes staring at him knowingly.
"Yeah? If he was that worried, he would have come out himself. Get the fuck out of here, seriously dude, no one gives a fuck about you."
Christophe shrugged, throwing Craig his pack of cigarettes and lighter. Looking at the token distrustfully, he as well shrugged, shaking one out and lighting up as well. As the smoke filled his lungs and fell out between his chapped lips, Craig felt his nerves back off just a bit.
"'e wanted to come find you, but I could see et would not 'ave ended well. You were too tense, too 'ngry to have a 'appy conclusion. Zat ez why I volunteered. I can take an 'it ef you get 'ngry, but judging from Tweek's faded black eye, 'e probably could not right now."
"Fuck him too," Craig snarled, even though his muscles relaxed as the nicotine went to work. Christophe tsked, giving him a look that would have made a mild man blush.
"Yeah? Maybe ef you do, you wouldn't 'ave zis kind of problems." A laugh escaped as Craig looked away, freckles dark against the flush of his cheeks. "Oh? You already 'ave, I would guess. Zen what ez wiz ze jealousy?"
Craig threw the butt of his cigarette down and crushed it under his shoe, glowering under his bangs at the taller boy. "What, are you calling me gay you French faggot?"
Again the knowing laugh, unphased by any ridicule he could throw his way. "Craig, let me tell you somezing. Say whatever you will of me, but stop lying to yourself. Don't want to dmit et to moi? Fine, but don't you 'urt that sweet boy in zere. And all you do by denying et is 'urt 'im. So get over yourself. All I am 'ere for ez Tweek's 'appiness."
"Don't worry about his happiness, okay, Christophe? It doesn't concern you. He's mine. So back off," he growled, shoving him back a step. Christophe merely leaned into the blow, not budging an inch, anticipating it. He shook his head, taking one last drag on his cigarette before flicking it into the dirt.
"No, Craig, ze red'eaded girl ez yours, which 'urts Tweek, ef you cannot read 'im. Maybe you should correct zat before putting claims on a person."
This time Craig put his weight into the blow, putting Christophe off balance for a second before side-stepping and righting himself. "He's mine, leave it the fuck at that, okay? Stay away from him, and stay away from me," he spat, stalking off in the opposite direction.
Unbeknonst to either of them, shy blue eyes watched the argument from behind the dividing wall to the school, red hair tucked gingerly behind pierced ears. Red shook her head, a sad smile on her face as the bell sounded on this chapter of her life.
...
The weeks following, Tweek was glued to Christophe's side like a puppy. They chatted about what had happened between them since they last spoke, learned new quirks about each other, as were inseparable by anyone's standards. Each day, Craig went by Tweek's house after school, and every day, he would be out with Christophe. Eavan would smile sadly, offer to leave a message, and hug him each time he would decline. It seemed like Craig wasn't even a blip on his radar anymore.
Which was fine for Craig, because instead of getting mad, he got even. If Tweek couldn't tell that it bothered him the attention he was paying the French boy, then he would do what he knew would cut Tweek deep. So while the blonde mooned over Christophe at lunch, Craig laced his fingers with Red and nibbled on her shoulders, kissing her passionately in the halls, keeping her close by his side on passing periods. Instead of being torn, he reveled in the flashing looks of pain from Tweek throughout the day.
Everyone seemed okay by the arrangements, especially as the Halloween party drew near. Red excitedly got together their costumes for the night, and spent an hour before D-day powdering his face and caking on foundation for the appropriately pasty teen-dream vampire look. To achieve the Cullen hair she sprayed temporary color in, tousled his hair with gel, and styled the messy look with her fingers. In tight-fitting bootcut jeans, a grey shirt, fangs in place and body-sparkle on, he would make any girl swoon. Even Red looked undone by his charm in her own Bella Thorn outfit.
They arrived early to help set up decorations with the other boys and girls. Bebe, hair a volumnous mess pulled back by a ribbon, went the leather-pants and cut off jacket look from Grease, while Clyde, hair slicked back, attempted muscles exposed by his rolled-up shirt, looked silly. Token's zombie makeup beyond the grave transformed him completely, and was sure to steal the show as he had already planned to waltz around in the shadows and scare the other students.
Much to all of their delights, Token's parents had left to give the kids their own space to have fun, while they went to a clubhouse party outside of down. Although the downstairs bar was locked, Kenny had eagerly showed up early with a few boxes of booze and the promise to be the best (and sexiest) bartender possible. To complete the promise he stripped himself of the ragged orange jacket and wore a nicely tailored suit with wing-tipped shoes, usual messy surfer-styled hair combed and styled away from his face, blue eyes shining mischievously.
Christophe had arrived early by himself, shocking everyone by being dressed as Marvel's Gambit. He grumbled something about "Tweek making him dress up" before delving into the task of sound equipment. By seven, most of the kids had already arrived and were dancing about together, drinks in hand. Red having danced off with the girls to do the Cha Cha Slide, Craig sat at the bar with a crown and coke in hand, swirling the liquid mix absently when he finally saw him. He cursed as his breath hitched in his throat as Tweek idly walked in, dodging people, trying not to touch anyone on his way around the perimeter of the makeshift dance floor. Dressed in a white button down, black slacks a little too big, boots with five buckles that reached his knees, white feathered wings around his shoulders, eyes rimmed in black coal, he looked amazing.
"Jeez, Tweekers dresses up good, huh Craig," Kenny said in his ear over the music, voice full of amazement. Ignoring him he downed the drink in hand, putting the cup back on the counter as he shoved upwards and started toward Tweek. Their eyes met and the blonde stopped dead, looking around as if trapped. Craig, feeling a buzz already swallowed the pang of guilt he felt, but continued until he was standing face to face to his own personal torment.
"You look good," he purred, a smile crossing his lips, flashing fake fangs. He reached up, running his knuckles down Tweek's flaming cheek. "Real good."
Wrinkling his nose and pulling slightly away, Tweek glared. "Have you been drinking? Is that why you're talking to me?"
"We're friends, am I not allowed to talk to you?"
Tweek took a step back, putting distance between them. "You haven't been a friend to me, Craig. Christophe has."
Before the argument could escalate, Red bounced over, cheeks flushed from dancing and whatever drink she was sipping on. She grabbed Craig's hand, smiling at Tweek, before gently tugging t it. "Come on, Craig! This is our jam, let's dance!"
As Craig let himself be lead away, Christophe seemed to materialize out of thin air, his look trained on Craig as he lead Tweek away from the hustle and bustle. Fuck them both, Craig thought as something he didn't recognize played over the sound system. Red seemed to know the song as she sang along with half the other girls, and surprised Craig by rubbing her bottom up against his groin suggestively, heavy-lidded eyes looking over her shoulder seductively. His anger dissipated as, against his will, his body reacted to the close-contact dancing and the alcohol pumping through him. Even though he would have rathered his blonde be the one rubbing inappropriately against him, he wrapped his big hands around her hips, letting a hand trail up her shirt to feel the skin-on-skin contact. He swayed and moved along with the bouncing crowd, taking a shot of something fruity that burned down his esophagus that appeared as Kenny slithered among the people, living up to his best bartender name.
As the song turned inward and burst over the crowd, Craig twirled Red to face him, hands at the small of her back, grinding against her with a slow, seductive smile of his own. He teased fake fangs across her skin, tongue dancing across her sweat-sheened skin, eliciting a small moan from her that cause his cock to stir. She seemed to notice as she pulled back, giving him a nervous, shy look as she squeezed him where he craved it most, almost undoing him right then and there.
Grabbing her hand and pulling it away from his crotch, he dragged her unceremoniously towards the stairs that lead up towards the bedrooms. It seemed they didn't go unnoticed, though, because trailing after them was a unanimous chant of "color lover, color lover, color lover!". Craig turned back at the landing and looked down once more before allowing himself to be dragged upwards, stopping dead for an instant as his slightly blurred vision found glassy, tear-stained coffee-colored eyes, a world of hurt spilling over from the broken glass within. He swallowed back his own emotion, mouthed I'm sorry, and turned his back on the one person he loved more than life itself.
...
Green glow stick and shimmering moonlight were the only illumination over the glassy waters of Terryall Creek. Christophe sat still, offering silence as Tweek down the last of his second beer, the first long ago forgotten on the foot path they followed. He nursed an almost-full can as he watched the blond tear the feathers angrily from his makeshift wings, ignoring the black streaks that streamed down his face from eye-liner that didn't hold up against the onslaught of tears that poured.
Christophe didn't know what pissed him off more, the blatant disregard Craig gave to his warning not to hurt Tweek, or the pained look he had seen in the black-haired boy's face when he saw Tweek at the bottom of the stairs. If he hurt so much by hurting Tweek, why did they continue the push-and-shove match between them? Why couldn't he just step off his thrown and lay his heart out to Tweek without the bullshit? Couldn't he tell Tweek was trying to replace his emotion with Christophe?
He sighed as Tweek finally plopped down on the hard ground, breathing heavy from his exertion at the task of mangling his costume. If only they both could swallow their pride and stop deviating what they felt. Shit, if he could see what they were doing, why couldn't they? He had sat back and watched all of the friends together, and the knowing looks passed between Clyde and Token said they knew it too.
"Feel better?" Christophe asked gingerly as he lit up a cigarette, looking sideways at his friend.
Tweek shrugged dejectly. "I don't know. I guess. I feel empty. I feel dizzy. I feel fuzzy inside."
"Zat's from the beer," Christophe said, amused, holding up his can in confirmation. "Et will do zat to you."
A nod was the response as he pushed his hair back from his face, throwing a rock out towards the lake. Black eye makeup had smeared down his face upon his hasty exit as he fought, and lost, to the emotion that had poured over at the sight of Craig going upstairs with Red. At knowing, through everything, he was just a prop when Craig needed him. And so, hating himself for it, Tweek let himself drink. And drink. And drink, until the tears dried up and the only thing he felt was numbness where the agonizing hurt had been.
"I don't get it, Christophe. Why does he do this?"
Christophe shrugged as he took a drag of his cigarette, calming his own nerves that wanted to turn around and beat the Nommel boy into oblivion. "If I knew, mon cher, I would fix et for you. Per'aps 'e ez jealous?"
Tweek wrinkled his nose in confusion. "Jealous? Why would he be jealous?"
Christophe looked at him knowingly. "Don't be daft, Twitchy. You 'ave been spending most of your free time wiz me. Maybe Craig feels slighted by my presence, oui?"
"He knows it's not like that," he replied, shaking his head. "And if he gets jealous of me being with you, he should think how I feel when he's with her!"
Christophe watched as Tweek turned inward, thinking, and had a moment to consider that this assertive Tweek was a nice change….even if it was alcohol induced. Instead of making excuses, Tweek was finally seeing Craig as manipulative, with an agenda all his own. "So forget aboot 'im, Twitchy."
The blonde locked eyes with him sullenly, winding his hair between his fingers and pulling, a comfort measure for the frail, inebriated boy. "I wish it was that easy."
"You forgot aboot 'im when et was just us. You never 'ad zese lapses of turmoil zen. So forget aboot 'im and let 'im do what 'e wishes wiz ze red'eaded girl. You are better zen zis."
The blonde's ears turned red as his face flushed and he looked away – even though they kept no secrets, embarrassment was still easy to come by. "A lot has happened since then, Christophe. Then he just shut me out, now he's basically my b-b-boyfriend, just, on the side."
Christophe threw his cigarette down and crushed it under foot, slamming down the almost-full beer. He couldn't help Tweek if he wasn't willing to help himself, and it was frustrating to see his good friend so torn. "So decide whezer 'e ez worz et or not, Twitchy. Ez et worz draggin yourself zrough ze dirt? Like I said, you were fine when et was just us. Zere 'ad to be a reason for zat."
Coffee-colored eyes glittered in indecision as Tweek licked his lips, considering. He watched Christophe lean back on the stump, heels dug into the sand, face turned upwards to watch the stars overhead. Alcohol fogging his reasoning, he thought about that. Maybe there was something he wasn't willing to recognize between them.
"C-c-close your eyes, Christophe."
A steely gaze settled on the twitching boy. "What?"
"Close your eyes."
A brow raised, he shook his head. "Why?"
"Just close your eyes, damnit!" Tweek cursed, a frown forming. Amused, Christophe obeyed. He waited, and waited, seconds ticking by, and when he was about to say something he realized why his eyes were closed when Tweek smooshed his mouth against his, kissing him sloppily before retreating instants later.
Christophe swallowed hard, trying to comprehend what had just happened when he opened his eyes and saw Tweek hidden behind some shrubbery, face ablaze, half hidden by his hands. He knew he had to tread lightly, knowing if he said or did the wrong thing Tweek may not forgive him. Craig had already shattered the boy's heart, Christophe couldn't hurt him too.
Finally he settled with a light laugh and, "Well, ef zat ez ze way you kiss, no wonder Craig ez kissing someone else."
Christophe ducked as a rock was hurled at his head. "That's not nice! I kiss better! I was nervous!"
Keep joking, Chris, maybe we won't 'ave to tread zis ground, he thought to himself as Tweek huffed. "Well, I wouldn't know."
Poking his blonde head from behind the shrubs he asked, "Do you want to know?"
Damn. Maybe he wasn't getting out of this conversation. Christophe waved him over. "Come 'ere and tell me why you are kissing me in ze first place."
Shuffling his feet, eyes on the ground, Tweek approached slowly, knuckles knocking together nervously. He edged in front of the taller boy, but didn't look up. "I thought well m-m-maybe there was something between us like Craig and I have and if I kissed you maybe I would know or you'd feel it too and I don't know it seemed like a good idea and—gyah! This is too much pressure!"
Christophe raised Tweek's chin so he couldn't avoid looking at the French boy, callosed knuckles pushing away the nervous tears from the blonde's eyes. "And?"
"I-I-I don't know. Maybe? It's not like when Craig kisses me but maybe something was there? I don't know. It was kinda fast. D-d-don't hate me. I'm sorry. Don't hate me."
Dejectedly, the tears seemed to materialize and Christophe cursed himself for getting into this situation in the first place. For the first time he was at a loss of what to do; this wasn't normal Tweek behavior, this was inebriated, drunk Tweek talking, a Tweek he'd never dealt with before. But hurting his friend was absolutely not an option, so he did the one thing Craig never would be able to do—he sacrificed.
He kissed the tears out of Tweek's eyes, kissed the tears that fell down his cheeks, gingerly,shakingly, kissed Tweek on the lips, hoping maybe the blonde wouldn't remember this after sleeping off the alcohol. Not because he didn't like Tweek, he did, but not in this way, and not when things were so messed up with Craig. Making sure any sign of indecision was wiped from his face, he pulled back, hands cradling Tweek's wet cheeks as he laid his forehead against the blonde's.
"I will never 'ate you, Twitchy. Ef you remember nozing else, remember zat."
Tears glittering in those foggy, caramel eyes, as if he'd just heard the one thing he needed in life, Tweek's face went white a moment before he pulled back and puked unceremoniously on Christophe's steel-toed boots.
...
The thumping of the bass and music downstairs, mixed with the numerous drinks coursing through his veins, made the room pulsate like a living creature. LED candlelight, the moon streaming through gauzy floor-length curtains in one of the guest bedrooms added to the appeal of the sexuality in the room. Below him Red never looked more attractive than with a hicky on her throat, firey hair laying around her shoulders against the floral pattern of the bedset, lacey black bra stark against her alabaster skin, blue eyes mischievously sparking with lust, lips parted with each breath exhaled as he kissed low on her abdomen.
"God, Craig, I never knew you were like this," she said as his skilled fingers unsnapped her pants and pulled them roughly off. A pang cut him at every touch he laid on her, at every word she spoke as he pictured the burry face of his blonde in his mind's eye.
"Me, either, babe. You sure aren't saying no for a good little Christian girl," he spoke, voice a low growl, trying desperately to shut away his extra feelings for Tweek. He stripped his shirt off, eliciting a catcall as he bared his pale, freckled abdomen and slender arms. Ignoring the roil in his stomach, he didn't fight as her black-painted fingers undid his jeans, rubbing against his groin in the process. He couldn't fight the groan that escaped his lips when she pulled his jeans around his thighs, exposing everything thanks to going commando, and wrapped her small hands around him, working slow at first, gaining confidence at each sound her work caused.
"Get you drunk and you turn dirty," he managed to say, focusing on those blue eyes, so different than Tweek's. He wished it was Tweek with his nervous, tremoring hands wrapped around him, wished it was Tweek he had to encourage to explore his body. Wished it was Tweek's loving eyes he was looking into, rather than these lusty blue ones.
So let me take over then, Craig. You can enjoy it deep in your subconscious, and I will enjoy it with your body, a familiar voice crooned, laced with dangerous intent. You cannot stop now or she may question where your loyalty is, and just who you like to fuck.
Craig pushed Red back into the pillows, flashing his fake fangs as he kicked his pants the rest of the way off and slid her matching underwear from her slim hips. He saw double; in reality, he was removing her bra, kissing her breast, while he fell into his mind and saw the grey, monsterous bat-thing rubbing its all-male genetalia, scarlet eyes transfixed on Craig.
You are hurting your other half, Craig, his inner demon said, still stroking itself to no avail. In bed, Craig descended lower at the soft moans from Red, licking hipbone, kissing inner thigh, kissing wet womanhood. In his head, Craig curled in on himself, fingers digging deep into scarred and scabbed forearms, eyes burning with unshed emotion.
"Go away! I know, I know, I KNOW! I don't know what to do, I never expected this, just leave me alone!" he screamed to the inky blackness of his mind, ignoring the muted wet sounds of reality, the deeper, agonizingly feminine groans of pleasure.
You should enjoy what you are doing, Craig. Let me help you with that, the voice purred closer than before. In reality, he was giving into the desperate pleas from Red, positioning himself between her shaking knees, driving himself in none-too-gently. But in his mind, the situation changed, and the person laying under him was Tweek, face flushed from desire, groaning his name passionately at each thrust.
"Oh, god, Craig, oh God!" he heard from two voices, his blonde underneath him, nails digging into his thighs, and in the background from Red, her actions from reality melding to what was going on in his mind.
"You like that?" he whispered huskily in both worlds, but it was Tweek's apple-scented shampoo he smelled as he buried his nose in the pillow, rhythm steady. The hitched breathing and moans into his shoulder was enough response for him.
But you cannot enjoy it too much, or there would be no fun for me, the monster purred directly into his ear, sending chills matching up his spine. In reality, there was no stopping his actions, because he was trapped in his mind now…but it wasn't Tweek under him. No one was under him – now, the sex with Red was mirrored by a separate image, a scene that dropped him to his knees, a sick feeling emptying his stomach as he watched Tweek moan his pleasure and his love to the tanned skin of Christophe. Tears now poured from Craig's eyes as his heart stopped, watching the two lovers finish with each other and whisper undying words of love amongst themselves.
The image changed to a scene of the two, older now, in a chapel, exchanging rings. His Tweek, marrying someone else. His Tweek, face aglow with delight and happiness. His Tweek, on his knees next to his wedding bed, receiving words of encouragement from a panting French boy as his Tweek licked and sucked and smiled when Christophe's pleasure exploded.
In reality, red hair tangled between his fingers as he found handholds to go faster. In his mind his world turned upside down and there was nothing left – he ached all over, feeling like icy needles coursed with each beat of his heart, tearing him open from the inside out. Even knowing it was a trick played by the demon in his head, he couldn't control the amount of hurt at seeing Tweek look at anyone else with the same love on his face, that he looked at Craig with when he allowed himself to be honest with the boy.
You do not think that is the worst of it, though, do you? Let me please you, the voice growled, and the scene changed once more to mirror exactly what he was doing in reality. From the inky blackness materialized a red, satin-draped bed that he found himself laying on with those scarlet eyes looking down on him.
All he could do was grin sadistically, letting his cold, unfeeling side take over. He had been hurt enough through this little test of strength, nothing else could hurt as bad as the image of Tweek making love to Christophe. "Come on, then. I won't be here all day," he teased, letting the alcohol that swam through his veins in reality temper his edge in his mind. The monster exposed jagged teeth in a gruesome smile, shoving Craig's smiling face down into the silk while one set of claws ripped into his hips, one wrapped around his arousal, and the demon made Craig his victim. He howled in pain and pleasure at being on the reciving end until he was slammed back into his body in reality a moment later, his groans echoing Red's yells as he came forcefully, shuttering for a moment before rolling away, bending over the bed, and puking until there was nothing left but bile and shame.
...
He had awoken before dawn, head pounding, stomach a twisted knot when he saw the girl next to him. He had quietly gathered his wits, locked himself in the adjoining bathroom, and sat in the shower with the water on cold fullblast, puking until there was nothing left to give. He scrubbed his skin until it turned pink, scrubbed his scabs until they split and ran red on the white marble of the tub, scrubbed until the stinging turned numb. He got out, towel drying his hair limply, drying everything but his bleeding wrist and gazed halfheartedly into the mirror. His eyes were dull and sunken into his face, freckles stark against his pale skin, the bruised kisses on his neck dark purple. He slammed his fist into the marble of the countertop, the sharp pain from the bones crunching against the force turning numb instantly. He slammed his fist into the counter again, and again, and again, until tears sprung into his eyes and the pain stayed, throbbing lacing up his hands from his bruised and bloody knuckles. A sound escaped before he slid to the floor, burying his face into his hands, shoulders shaking as he sobbed.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," he echoed over and over. How could he let his revenge go so far? How could he have gone to bed with anyone other than Tweek? There was no way there could be forgiveness for this. There was no way they could recover from this. There was no way—
"Oh man, bro, you okay?" a voice whispered. Craig didn't even care if anyone saw him like this and looked up to the concerned face of Kenny standing by the door that connected with the hallway, hair a morning mess. "Jesus, it looks likes like you tried beating yourself up, dude."
"That'd be accurate," he replied, fingers stiff when he tried to move them. "Can you get me clothes from Token's room? I gotta get outta here."
Kenny didn't question him; Kenny was probably the only one that wouldn't have questioned him. Craig had made it to his feet, cleaned his knuckles up, wiped his face away of any tear tracks by the time the blonde had returned. He'd clasped Craig on the shoulder, wished him good luck, and retreated without needing any kind of explanation for his actions. Craig pulled on the offered clothes; basketball shorts, a long-sleeved black sweater that covered his neck markings, his own beat-up Vans, and his disgusting blue hat he'd discarded while getting ready the night before. He didn't care if his hair was still dripping wet, or that it would look like shit by the time it dried, he only cared about escaping the house before the girl with red hair woke up and noticed him missing.
There was one person he cared about finding, and if he guessed correctly, he'd be at Christophe's…he just hoped there was no truth in what his mind and imagined last night. The air was brisk, the sky lighting to the grey of predawn while the sun played around the mountain line. He followed the foot trails down along the bank of Terryall Creek, through the forest across an empty field , around Stark's pond, to the back side of the neighborhood the Mole lived in. He hopped the fence, wincing at using his hands, and crossed the back lawn of a little old lady whom lived diagonal to the DeLorne's. He didn't know what he would say, didn't know what he'd do, he just had to see Tweek, hold him in his arms, tell him it'd be okay.
What he didn't expect to see was the form of Christophe sitting on the banister of his porch, a cigarette between his lips, swinging his bare feet to some internal rhythm no one could hear.
"And look what ze cat dragged up. What do you want, Craig?" he asked, voice hushed as the morning birds started to stir.
"Is Tweek here?" he asked dryly, though he could hear the desperation soak through. Those intense grey eyes scanned him over, focusing on the bruised, swollen knuckles.
"You need to ice zose and keep working zem or zey will heal broken and cause your life a lot of pain," Christophe offered. "Wasn't worz et, was et?"
Craig didn't bother to respond. "Where's Tweek?" he asked again.
"I do not zink seeing him ez what ez best for 'im right now, Craig. Not after what you did."
"You have no idea what did or didn't happen," he snarled, cringing as he tightened his fists in anger. "Now let me se him."
Christophe crushed his cigarette into the ashtray on the banister and hopped down. Craig wasn't ready when the French boy pulled the collar of his sweater down to expose his bruised neck, or for the knee that slammed into his ribs, dropping him to the ground as the air was knocked plum out of him. He had no fight in him when Christophe pulled his head up to look him in the pained, green eyes.
"You cannot bullsheet a bullsheeter, Craig. I know as well as you do zat you got your dick wet last night. And I zought I 'ad warned you about 'urting Tweek. Can you not understand English?"
"You sure you speak English?" was all Craig could manage. Hate flared in Christophe's eyes, but all he did was shove him back on his rump and take a deliberate step back.
"I could beat you into a pump, beat you until zere is nozing left, and still, I do not zink you would understand. I zink ze punishment ez you beating yourself up over your actions."
Craig wanted to say something in return but stopped when he saw the front door open and Tweek step out, hair a mess, rubbing sleep and exhaustion out of his eyes. Even Tweek looked pale and worse for the wear, making Craig wonder if he had drank anything last night. He stopped dead, coffee eyes widening just a tad at seeing Craig on the ground with Christophe standing menacingly over him.
"W-w-what's going on with you two? What are you doing here Craig? Gyah, you better not be fighting!" he said weakly, trying to look stern but failing miserably.
Craig pushed himself to is feet, ignoring the throb of his hands. "I needed to see you. Can we go somewhere to talk?"
Tweek looked uncertain as he passed a look between Christophe and himself, but gave a brief nod as he ducked back inside. Christophe grumbled something rapid in French under his breath as he walked back up the porch, guarding his front door. He watched numbly as Tweek came out pulling a jacket on and was stopped as Christophe whispered something to him and kissed her cheek, turning a flushed shade of pink. Craig counted to ten as Tweek feebly waved at his friend, that stood glowering solemnly, watching their departure unhappily.
They walked in silence a few feet apart, their shoes on the concrete mixing with the awakening sounds of the morning birds the only sounds between them. Craig could feel his friend's eyes on his back, could feel the tension building between them at every cross street they passed. He didn't know what to expect, really, didn't know what was in store for them after this. Swallowing back the fear, wanting at least one good last memory if things went south, Craig reached his hand out, stiffly wrapping his fingers around Tweek's, answering the shocked look with a smile.
"B-b-but someone will see us!" Tweek protested, trying to pull his hand from the vice-grip of the Nommel boy, knowing Craig wouldn't like anyone thinking he was gay. He recalled the last time they had held hands in the fog of a school morning, being told he didn't mean any of it. That was just a few short months ago, but it seemed like an eternity.
"I don't care, Tweekers. Not right now," he answered, squeezing the small hand in his, cringing at the movement. Seeing the shade of pink that crept of Tweek's face, butterflies erupted in Craig's stomach, followed by a wave of nausea from guilt. They walked in silence side by side to the park and through the painted red fence of their childhood, around the small man-made pond with the fountain in it, through the separate gate around the playground, across the rubber mulch, and up the metal ladder of the playground. Without a word they crawled through the plastic tunnel to the "meeting ground", a plastic red bubble that separated off toward the tallest slide, and another taller landing. Clear windows that looked out over the rest of the playground had made this area their spaceship in the days of spacemen.
Craig leaned up against one of the bubbled windows, and fought back a laugh at Tweek's wild hair from the static of the plastic tunnel and meeting area they sat in. The blonde tried to glare, but couldn't seem to make his anger apparent as he gazed out one of the plastic windows, watching dawn creep slowly, thanks to the mounting clouds rolling in.
"Why'd we come here?" Tweek asked when he finally turned toward Craig. He grabbed Tweek's wrist and ran his fingers over a sharp, rough area of plastic that felt….carved. Curiously, Tweek leaned in to see what it was, and sat back, eyes wide when he saw CN & TT BFF carved clumsily into a heart with block-like, childish handwriting. "W-w-when?"
"When we were fighting, after you left for home school, I would come here when I wanted to go away and think and feel like we were still close. It helped remind me of the good times," he replied, watching Tweek's reaction, trying to swallow the sick feeling he felt, knowing by now Red would have to be awake. "Were you drinking last night?"
Tweek nodded, ducking his gaze as he pulled at his hair nervously. "You've been ignoring me for her. You promised you would fix things and it never happened. I was mad. I was upset. And it didn't help seeing you there with her."
"You were ignoring me for him," Craig countered sourly, pushing his hair out of his face grimly. "I would go to your house, and you would be gone. You were never there when I needed you. You were always with Christophe."
Tweek seemed to shrink into himself, drawing his knees up to his chest, pulling his hood over his unruly hair, hiding his face in his hands. He groaned. "I…I have a confession, and you're going to be mad and kill me and bury my body where no one can find it and no one will know and it's awful and oh my god—"
Craig smiled at the incessant paranoia, feeling like his Tweek was back, but a seed of fear grew in him. He pulled Tweek's hands down and stared into those apologetic coffee-colored eyes. "I won't be mad at you. Now what's up?"
"I kissed Christophe."
Craig was expecting worse, but his stomach still dropped at the words. "You did what?" he asked calmly.
That did it. Tweek pulled away, tears stinging his eyes as he jumped into an explanation that rolled off his tongue without any pause. "IwasdrunkandupsetandthoughtmaybeIcouldforgetyouif IdidsomethingwithsomeoneelseandIkissedhimandandnad —"
"Shhh, Tweekers, slow down. Start again."
Tweek took a breath, and another, and another, feeling like this was his worst offense ever, and that he had a one-way ticket to Hell. "You upset me and I left with Christophe and had a few drinks and was by the creek and he told me I should forget about you and I told him it wasn't that easy and he reminded me I forgot about you just fine when we were homeschooled and I thought maybe there was a reason and that maybe I do like Christophe and I kissed him and he kissed me and—"
"He kissed you." It was a statement rather than a question and Tweek's face went pale when he was the look on Craig's face.
"I-I-I don't know. I think, maybe, but it could have just been me and…I'm sorry Craig."
The Nommel boy shrugged. How could he be mad over a kiss, when his own offense was much, much worse? And still, he was murderously furious…not at Tweek, though, but at the smug French bastard that had been hiding his blonde from him and made a move on his blonde. "The question is, did you feel anything by it, Tweek?"
The blonde looked close to crying. "I don't know, maybe, but I think I would have been happy swimming in a pool of Jell-O at the time, and you know how much I hate Jell-O. I don't know," he managed weakly, voice tapering to a whisper. "I'd have to do it without alcohol to tell you."
The tink tink tink above them let them know the rain had started, slow and gentle, but inside their plastic cacoon they were safe. Craig's obvious answer was to sit up on his knees, head bent to avoid smacking the top of their cavern, hands on either side of Tweek's head against the wall, and kiss him. Unlike the chaste kiss from Christophe, Craig kissed deeply, teeth grazing his chapped lips, tongue tasting the bitterness of last night's alcohol. He kissed Tweek until they had to pull away to breathe, and clear green eyes filled with something unreadable looked down at Tweek's flushed face, a small smile playing his lips. The pulse in Tweek's neck jumped, his breath hitched faster as Craig leaned his forehead against the blonde's, just barely applying pressure, not letting his blonde escape this.
"Did you feel that with Christophe?" he asked gently.
"N-no," Tweek stammered around his heart in his throat, the sensitive side of Craig undoing him at the stitches. But he knew from experience of being burned how easy it was for this moment to turn under the watchful eyes of their peers. "But I don't want to be hurt again, Craig. I don't want to be pushed away, pushed under a rug like a pile of dirt when someone shows up unexpectedly."
The sick feeling again. Craig leaned back on his heels and swallowed back the bitter taste of bile that seemed to materialize in the back of his throat. Oh, god, how could he tell Tweek without dragging his insides through a meat grinder? He had lied enough to Tweek over the years, and he couldn't, wouldn't lie to him here in this place of solace he had made for himself. He laughed mentally to himself at that, considering maybe that's why he had brought Tweek here after all – because it was one place, he knew he would never lie to his torment.
"I, too, have a confession," he started, pulling his hat down his forehead instinctfully, causing his bangs to sweep in front of his eyes. He knew what he said next would ruin everything, and all he could do was build a wall around his heart feebly and steel himself against the backlash of his drunken stupor. "I fucked Red."
He didn't look up, couldn't look up and see Tweek's reaction. He didn't want to know the disgusted, hurt look that had to be there. So he was surprised when, behind a muffled sniff he heard, "…I know."
He looked up then and hated himself all over at the sight of Tweek curled up on himself, face buried in his knees, shoulders shaking silently. He balked, digging nails into his hands, ignoring the biting pain of skin breaking, ignoring throbbing, broken knuckles, not knowing how he could comfort the boy before him, didn't know if it was even his right to because he had made this hurt real. He wanted to walk off the nearest bridge to his death if it would stop the muffled sniffling emitting weakly from beneath the hood of his friend.
"I'm sorry," was all he could manage as he slid down the plastic tube into the rain, hit the ground, and hurled. His vision tunneled, his world collapsed in on itself as he ran without a destination in mind, ran to escape the haunted image of Tweek, standing at the top of the playground a hand reaching out in his direction.
...
On Monday, no one dared to mention the events at Token's – as he proclaimed proudly, his house was like Vegas. Red sat with her friends at the girl's table in the absence of Craig, Christophe and Tweek acted like mere friends, and the steady rain outside was projected to be the reason for the children's dower moods. Tweek worried about his missing friend and called each morning and night that he missed of school, and was informed each time by a cheery-enough Ms. Nommel that Craig was resting miserably in bed with a high fever and strep. It still didn't make him any less worried, knowing what Craig was capable of without constant supervision.
On Wednesday, a mysterious letter made its way into Tweek's locker, written in a flowy, round script that merely said "I'm sorry, it shouldn't have happened, I hope you can forgive it and forgive him". When he had showed Christophe, the French boy had merely shrugged, thinking it had probably ended up in the wrong locker and was meant for someone else, but by the intelligent, guarded look in his grey eyes Tweek thought otherwise.
He didn't have the time to decipher the message, though, because by Thursday Craig had returned, looking gaunt and exhausted, nose chapped and red, a box of tissues carried idly at his side, hat pulled as low as possible, hood thrown over that, as if he was cold. Cartman had made a move to ask about the party at lunch while Craig had laid his head unceremoniously on the table to avoid looking at food, and got one word in before – surprisingly enough – Christophe had slowly stood up, deadly gaze trained on the fat boy, who turned tail and ran without warning. When cornered about the interference, Christophe had shrugged and said, "'e doesn't look well enough to fight 'is own battles right now."
Class after lunch was English with Ms. Mendal, where they had been practicing prose and reading different pieces of literature all week, as well as sharing a piece to the class they had written. Today's pieces were to be read by Wendy, Esther, Kyle, and Craig…at the last name picked from a hat, Tweek had glanced across the room to the Nommel boy slumped over his desk, face hidden in his arms, looking dead, much less ready to read a piece of homework to the class.
While Wendy read her sonnet about equality between all living species, Tweek couldn't help but watch Craig whom didn't seem to move, and wondered if he was really as sick as he seemed, or if maybe it was an emotional sickness that ate away at him. Tweek had known the moment Craig went up the stairs at Token's the intentions he had had with Red. He knew that night, while he was at the creek with Christophe, what was going on back in that satin-draped room. But hearing it from the nasally voice he loved that dripped ache and sorrow had been something different, had solidified the ounce of doubt he had harbored. And it had hurt knowing Craig could share the same thing he did with Tweek that he did with Red. It hurt…but not enough to erase what he felt for Craig, not enough to cause him not to worry about the gangly boy he still thought of as his best friend.
Esther lamented surrealistically about an unnamed object next, and under the watchful eye of Christophe in the back of the class, he scribbled on a bit of scrap paper Are you okay? and chucked the rolled-up ball at Craig's unmoving head. The raven-haired boy simply unraveled the wad of paper in the cavern of his hood, shook his head as response, and returned to laying in the circle of his arms.
Kyle poetically read about politics and social classifications and the demoralfication of today's youth as Tweek stared at Craig, ignoring the trained look of the Mole that watched him like a guard dog. On another scrap paper he scrawled What's wrong? I still care, you know. Maybe more than you want and, glancing another direction, tossed the paper at Craig with perfect precision. Again, he pulled the paper open in the shelter of his hood, but this time tired green eyes met his for a moment, and Tweek had a moment to wonder if the glassy look was from tears before he turned away again, resting his head back on his desk.
When Craig's name was called next, the only thing that moved was an arm that held up a beat up spiral-bound notebook, and a hooded blonde that bounced over to grab it cheerfully. Ms. Mendal didn't seem to mind as Kenny made his way to the front of the classroom and showed her the work in question to prove it was Craig's homework, written in pointed small writing, rather than Kenny's bubbly girlish writing.
"Hi guys!," he started, tipping an invisible hat only he could see. "As we all know, Craigers over there is dying before our very eyes and isn't up to reading, what with his gross throat and what not. So I volunteered before hand to be the joyful voice of his wonderfully dedicated piece of prose, written in the throes of flu! Dedicated, man. Anyway, here goes!
Sometimes I wonder why I stay; we can't be together, but we stumble to stay apart
Those eyes that spill over in emotion may be my biggest torment
Those eyes that plead with caramel sugar may be my biggest savior.
Each moment caught in a web of oblivion, I wonder, and I doubt, and I sway, and I choose.
Each day it gets harder to pretend it doesn't hurt; each day it gets easier to know.
And I look to the stars, at something we both share no matter where we are, and I know;
that this body I hold that is not yours doesn't make me who I should be
and these hands I hold cannot be complete.
Because through the blackness of doubt and shame, you walk in with your shy smile
And I can't help but stay, because there is one thing that makes me complete…"
Kenny looked up at the author, still, face hidden, seeming to be unmoved at hearing his prose read aloud. Licking his thumb he turned the page and paused, making an executive decision as he wiped his thumb across the last word, a name, smearing the black gel ink to something unreadable. "Well boys and girls, let's give it up for Craig, who apparently is deeper than we all would have guessed!"
"Tweek," a muffled voice echoed under the hood, spoken soft though the hoarseness was evident. Craig looked upon, his green eyes seemed haunted as he stared at Kenny. The blonde at the front of the room just shook his head as the class turned to Craig to see what he had to say after a day of being mute. "You didn't finish it, Kenny."
"You don't really want to do this right now, do you?" the blonde seemed to plead to his sick friend. "You're not feeling quite right, buddy."
Tweek watched the exchange worriedly, a sick feeling in his stomach that had been building since the first word had spilled out of Kenny's mouth. Christophe, too, had seemed to understand where it was going and stared at Craig, who seemed unphased by anyone.
"You can't take et back once you say et, Craig. Want those consequences now while you feel so sheety?"
A devilish grin akin to the Cheshire cat spread of Cartman's face as the light bulb clicked in his brain. "Oh-ho, no, guys, let's let Craig finish where he was going. Don't discourage such a wonderful author!"
The French boy growled low in his throat as he trained the best assassin eyes he had on the fat boy. Kenny, too, glared in his friend's direction. By now, half the class either put the pieces together vaguely, or were looking around with confusion evident.
"D-d-don't egg him on, he doesn't feel good," Tweek squeaked from his seat, surprising everyone around him. Craig turned to look at him, pain flaring across his face at the comment. He smiled sadly, mouthed I'm sorry and finished the last line by heart.
"And I can't help but stay, because there is one thing that makes me complete…Tweek."
A/N: I want to remind people of a few things - yes, I am writing an adult story with children that are 11/12. I know the actions and content do not match the grade level they are in. I know, for real. I want to remind everyone that E86 also doubles as a commentary about today's youth doing things younger and younger than in my day, it's not kiddie porn or intended to be porn in any way. I could have set them up to be in high school - but, 1) that would have left a LOT of years to cover, considering the start of this they were in elementary school and 2) it wouldn't have reflected on society as much and/or contributed the "wow" factor as much.
Second, yes I am updating again for some crazy reason. I am unsure why this story is still going, because each time I revisit it and sit down to write, the story changes and I have to throw out the whole chapter's concept. The ending of this chapter, I was not on board with until it happened, and a lot I wanted to input into the chapter got dumped. Apparently writing is not as organized as it was when I was 16. Darn.