It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now
Said I wouldn't call but I lost all control and I need you now
And I don't know how I can do without, I just need you now
-Need You Now, Lady Antebellum
Nine and a Half Years Prior
He had been watching Kyle's house for hours; just waiting. It felt like it'd been years since Stan had disappeared through the front door, and Craig was starting to lose feeling in his fingers and toes, his nose already completely numb; faint tremors coursing through his skin. What were they even doing in there?
It had been weeks since Craig's birthday party and Kyle had kept his distance, mainly because Craig had made it a point to actively avoid him. Whenever he saw him approaching at school, Craig would make sure to go the opposite direction, and he'd given his family strict orders not to let Kyle in should he stop by. After awhile, Craig had noticed that even though Kyle still watched him with sad, confused eyes, he had stopped trying to overstep the invisible boundaries that had been set up.
For awhile, Craig had been happy about that fact, telling himself that this was exactly what he wanted; complete and utter freedom to be alone, but as the days crawled by, the inexplicable began to occur. Suddenly, Craig found himself glancing toward the door at weird times, convinced he could hear a faint tap on the other side, but there was never anyone there. At school, he caught himself looking at Kyle more and more, his heart beating faster when his scarlet curls caught the overhead lights; his voice drifting through the classroom when he answered a question...and he answered so many fucking questions it started to drive Craig crazy.
When he lay in bed at night, Craig would look out the window and his mind would go to secret, out of the way places filled with agonizing thoughts and questions. As he watched the stars slowly pass through the sky and dawn would start creeping up, Craig would ask himself why he couldn't sleep, but in his heart he knew; he just fucking knew.
He missed Kyle.
Craig missed all of the little overtures that he thought he hated; Kyle listening to him play the piano for hours on end, his small, thoughtful gestures that used to annoy the fuck out of him, even his apple-laden scent that overtook everything until Craig could barely think. He missed it all. In fact, he became so despondent that even his music was starting to suffer, and he couldn't bring himself to touch the piano, every song a hateful reminder that Kyle wasn't there to listen.
He kept trying to make sense of the situation but he could never really piece the logic together, though Craig started to see that logic had nothing to do with any part of the whole equation. A weary fatigue stole over him as the days died one by one, and he could feel himself starting to crumple, his resolve laying down and screaming for mercy. After awhile, he couldn't even really remember why the fuck he was angry with Kyle at all.
Was it because he made Craig feel something in the first place? He couldn't even figure out how that had come to pass, and when it had happened. All he knew was that he was deluged with a deep, painful guilt that coursed through his blood; a shame that made him wish more than ever that he could speak with Tweek one last time so he could apologize. How could he feel anything for someone else when Tweek's death was still so new, his bones barely dry in a grave less than 10 minutes away? Craig almost felt like moving on in any capacity was a sacrilege to Tweek's memory; almost like he was turning his back on someone he still loved so much.
It wasn't until a Thursday evening in mid-February that Craig decided he couldn't take it anymore. Sitting on his bed, he opened his bedside table and pulled out the tickets Kyle had given him for his birthday. Studying them in the lamplight, he touched the lettering softly and couldn't help but heave a sigh. The film festival started on Saturday and he knew there was no one else he'd want to go with, but he had no clue how he was going to go about asking Kyle. So much time had passed and every minute seemed to be another barrier between them; what could he possibly say at this point?
Feeling restless and inexplicably afraid, Craig rose from his bed and headed downstairs, the rest of the house hushed; his family off in all directions attending to their own affairs. Quietly, he slipped through the front door and ran out into the night, his feet automatically carrying him in the direction of Kyle's house.
What the fuck am I even doing? He asked himself, his breath breaking through his lips in cloudy streams.
The moon was tossed on wispy silver clouds as he ran the empty streets, delicate snowflakes catching drafts of air and falling all around him. The world almost felt deserted as he passed through the silence, his hand slipping into his pocket to make sure the tickets were still there. Drawing closer to Kyle's house, Craig stood on the opposite side of the street and studied it for a moment; it's neat front lawn manicured, a sign next to the front door proclaiming that you had reached the Broflovski residence.
Slight movement in his peripheral made Craig turn his head sharply, and with a sinking heart and sudden vague rage building in his blood, he could see Stan coming down the street; hands jammed in his pockets and his head down. Running behind a clump of bushes and feeling ridiculous, Craig watched as Stan went right up to Kyle's house and knocked on the front door, his foot kicking at the welcome mat as he waited.
All at once, the door opened and in the midst of the warm lights flowing out into the night, Craig could make out Kyle's voice and form though he was in silhouette. He let Stan in and the door shut, plunging the front yard and street into darkness once again, and without realizing it, Craig's hands clenched into fists at his sides. Well, this was just fucking great.
I'll just wait, he decided. It's already kind of late, there's no way Stan is going to stay for more than a few minutes.
But as the minutes dragged by, Craig figured out that he'd miscalculated the situation, and it wasn't until almost two hours later that the front door finally opened; Kyle waving to Stan as he drifted down the walkway, a bag now dangling from his hand. Faintly, he could hear him thanking Kyle for inviting him to dinner, and this was enough to make Craig grit his teeth, suddenly feeling so hot even though the night was so unbearably cold. He watched him walk away down the street, and after a moment, Stan started whistling; acting like he didn't have a fucking care in the world.
Craig tore his eyes away from Stan's retreating back once he'd made it a fair distance down the block, and almost rose from his position to make his way across the street, but something held him back. Now he wasn't sure if he had the courage to go through with what he planned, but he desperately wanted to; his mind drifting to the photos on his camera that he looked at every night. Kyle's sweet face passed through his cold-fogged brain, and without warning Craig could almost smell his apple cider aroma; the scent almost serving to warm him against the chill.
Trapped in agonizing indecision, Craig waited outside of Kyle's house until all the downstairs lights went out, and the upstairs' windows were illuminated; warm, yellow squares breaking through the blackness. Angry with himself for waiting so long like a chickenshit, Craig finally managed to move his stiff, numbed body from his hiding place, and he crossed the street; his feet carrying him to the side of the house. He had a pretty good idea of which window he needed to look for, having been to Kyle's home in the past, but he still felt his heart rate increasing steadily. How was he ever going to explain himself to Kyle after all of this time had passed?
Looking around, Craig found a tiny pebble and took a deep breath to steady himself. After a moment, he lobbed it up toward the window where it clinked softly against the glass; the sound of it falling and skittering away in the grass sounding immensely loud in the stillness. Craig waited with baited breath but after a few minutes, he picked up another pebble and threw it at the window, but just a little harder this time. A few seconds later, he could hear a scratching at the window and a shadow passed in front, and then there was Kyle; his eyes wide as he stared out the now open window.
"What the fuck?" He said, peering out into the yard, his curls appearing damp in the light pouring from his room.
"Kyle!" Craig whisper-shouted up to him, his hand curled around his mouth. "Down here!"
Kyle blinked rapidly as he searched for the source of the voice, and when his eyes finally fell on Craig, a look of complete confusion washed over his features.
"Craig? What are you doing here?"
"I, uh, wanted to talk to you," Craig replied, a sudden flush heating his cheeks. "Do you have a minute?"
Kyle just stared at him for a moment, his eyes wide and unblinking. Glancing over his shoulder, he called down softly:
"I'll be right down, okay? Don't go anywhere."
It was with a frantically beating heart and burning cheeks that Craig received Kyle a few minutes later; both of them huddling under a streetlamp down the street. Kyle was dressed in his pajamas and hadn't even bothered to put on a jacket, and he stood there trembling as he waited for Craig to speak; his arms wrapped tightly around himself. Finally, when Craig couldn't seem to find the words, Kyle broke the silence.
"I can't believe you were throwing rocks at my window, dude." He grinned a little, his voice shaky with cold. "What is this, Romeo and Juliet?"
Craig thought a moment, then groaned and rolled his eyes.
"That's a fucking Taylor Swift song, Kyle. Romeo never threw pebbles at Juliet's window."
Kyle arched an eyebrow, wry amusement filling his face.
"I don't listen to Taylor Swift, Craig, but apparently you do."
Now Craig's face was flaming red, and he glanced down at his feet, the light from the streetlamp making his shadow almost disappear beneath his shoes.
"So, are you going to tell me what's going on?" Kyle asked, his voice gentle. "What are you doing here? I thought you were mad at me."
Craig jammed his hands in his back pockets, his hand curling around the tickets as he tried to sort out his thoughts.
"I was," he started, gruffly. "I mean, I am, but I -"
He broke off, finding himself unable to continue. He'd never been one to accept a serving of humble pie without putting up a fight first.
"But?" Kyle asked, shivering as a gust of wind tore through them.
Without thinking, Craig was suddenly removing his jacket and draping it around Kyle's shoulders; a feeling of crazy, protective tenderness flitting through him.
"What were you thinking coming out here without a jacket?" He chastised, irritation making his voice even more rough. "Are you crazy?"
"No crazier than you," Kyle replied, arching an eyebrow. "You're the one that showed up at my house after fucking ten o'clock at night."
"Is it that late already?" Craig asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah, it is," Kyle said, pulling the jacket closer around himself. "And you still haven't told me what's going on."
Feeling reckless and foolish, Craig pulled the tickets out of his back pocket and held them in front of himself, his hands trembling a little, though he couldn't say whether it was from the cold or from being next to Kyle again.
"The film festival is this weekend," he said, softly.
Kyle stared at the tickets and then at Craig's face, a look of recognition registering in his eyes.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, and I kind of wanted to, uh...," Craig started, but then he just couldn't make himself continue. He just felt so stupid and embarrassed and -
"I wish I could go with you," Kyle interjected, his tone a little wistful. "I'd really like to see Sunset Boulevard since you seem to like it so much."
"Is that so?" Craig asked, relief flushing through him because Kyle had been willing to save him from making an ass of himself further. "Well, I mean, I haven't really asked anyone yet, so, I don't know." He shrugged a little, trying to appear completely disinterested. "I guess you could go with me if you wanted to."
"Really?" Kyle asked. "Are you sure? I didn't buy two tickets because I expected you to ask me or anything."
"Yeah, I know, but I -"
He stopped, but then somehow found some courage frozen somewhere deep inside his heart.
"I want you to go with me," he admitted. Turning away, Craig kicked at the ground and tried to play it cool. "It's not like I have anything better to do anyway."
"Clearly," Kyle said, amused. Reaching out, his fingers brushed Craig's as he took one of the tickets out of his hand; igniting his skin and almost making him groan a little. Looking at it, he smiled when he glanced back up. "Thanks."
"Yeah, whatever," Craig replied, trying to assume an air of indifference but failing miserably.
"Are you still mad at me?" Kyle asked, softly. "I'm really sorry for adding my drama to your problems."
Craig sighed, his skin still burning from where Kyle had touched him. Abruptly, he reached up and tugged the jacket more snuggly around the redhead.
"No, I'm not mad, Kyle. Are you pissed at me?"
"Why would I be angry with you?" Kyle asked, clearly confused.
Craig shrugged a little, his hands still lingering on the jacket.
"I was kind of a dick about the whole thing, and I didn't want you to think that you don't have my support or whatever."
Kyle smiled softly, the streetlamp catching the little flecks of gold in his irises; bright against the clover green.
"I'm not mad at all, Craig; I'm just glad we're talking again."
"Yeah, right," Craig said, clearing his throat as a flush traveled up his neck. "So, have you told Stan yet?"
Kyle froze for a moment and then threw his hands up, suddenly a bundle of nerves.
"Stan?! N-no way! I haven't told anyone!" Looking down at the ground, he sounded sad when he spoke next. "I have no idea how I'm going to tell him. I don't want him to hate me."
"How could anyone ever hate you? Especially him?" Craig asked. He knew that Stan loved Kyle back. He had no idea how he knew, he just did; Stan's eyes gave everything away, just like Kyle's. They each had the fatal flaw of having eyes that showed the world everything; every little secret and desire.
"I thought you hated me," Kyle said, grinning now. "Is that not the case?"
Craig broke away now, barely feeling the cold winds as they pelted his jacket-less body. If anything, he now felt deluged with a heat that threatened to melt him away. He couldn't explain how Kyle's words made him feel, but he couldn't help acknowledging that they disarmed him.
"No, I don't hate you," he said, his voice almost a whisper. Admitting this fact caused something to happen in his chest, almost like he could feel something changing as it grew.
"Well, I'm glad," Kyle said, teeth chattering. "Because I really missed you."
Craig just grunted. There was no way he was going to admit to having missed Kyle on top of everything else; he'd already made a big enough fool of himself for one evening. Turning back, he glanced at Kyle's house and then back to him.
"I think it's time for you to get your ass back inside," he said, starting to feel more like himself now that he was getting a little control back. "It's too fucking cold outside for scrawny asses like yours."
"Speak for yourself," Kyle grinned, sliding the jacket off and handing it over. "Here."
Craig took it and slipped it back on, hoping he was hiding the fact that the jacket carried some of Kyle's aroma now; apples and sunshine and everything good that had happened over the past few months.
"Go," he directed, waving towards Kyle's house. "I'll see you tomorrow at school."
"Okay," Kyle said, turning on his heel and beginning to walk away. "I'll sit with you at lunch, okay?"
"Yeah, fine," Craig snapped. "Now move your ass before you freeze."
Kyle just stuck his tongue out and ran away toward his house, his steps crunching through icy snow and slush; slender back retreating into the darkness beyond the streetlight's reach. At the last moment, he waved and then he was gone, the front door snapping shut behind him.
Craig just stood there for a moment and watched Kyle's house, his eyes drifting to the amber square of his window; still burning brightly, and for a moment he thought he saw a shadow pass by, but then it was gone. Looking up, he saw a break in the cloud cover and he could see silver stars pulsing sharply; sentinels wheeling far away as Earth's foolish occupants passed through and lived their little lives. He couldn't explain the feeling welling up inside of his chest, but he knew that it made him feel warm; almost like he was going home after a very long time away.
Later that night, as the rest of the world slept, Craig scrolled through his camera again while nursing the warmth in his chest; vague longing lancing through his veins. How could he ever hope to explain this feeling or make sense of it? It was so different than his feelings for Tweek, and he still couldn't believe that he'd actually camped out in front of Kyle's house for hours, just looking for an opportunity to see him. Everything was happening so fast and he had no idea what he was doing these days.
How had things changed so quickly, and why hadn't he noticed before it was too late?
Present Day
He was in heaven, he had to be; there was simply no other explanation.
Craig sank into Kyle's ravenous kisses like a man possessed, his arms winding around his body and drawing him so close they practically melded together; heat and an intense, burning need consuming every molecule within him. When he'd come home from work the night had already fallen, and he automatically assumed that Kyle wouldn't be there, that he'd be with Stan; but, no, he'd opened up his door and saw something that almost had the power to make him fall to his knees.
Kyle, his Kyle, was in his bed, wrapped in his blankets; waiting for him. Just him. Craig had never expected this day to actually come, and for a moment he had just stood in the doorway and stared, his heart throbbing in his chest and threatening to explode. When Kyle had finally stirred, he'd sat up and blinked his eyes one, two, three times, and then he'd automatically opened his arms to him; beckoning him forward with his irresistible siren call.
And then, then, he'd kissed Craig on the lips, his warm breath brushing against his mouth and making him feel positively arrested; tiny hands gathering up his shirt and crushing it between his fingers. Craig had hardly believed his luck, couldn't think the situation could become any more sublime until he'd heard the words -
"I need you, Craig. I need you so much."
Oh, and then he was falling completely; diving headlong through every dream and secret desire, unraveling as every aching part of his body got lost in Kyle. Every thought and worry seemed to fly from his mind as he held Kyle close, his lips hungry and aggressive and so much fire building; flames igniting and searing through his flesh. Craig was even able to push thoughts of Damien away, his murder scene eyes fading into nothingness with every kiss and touch. Christ, he was even able to forget about Stan; about his horrible, impossible choice to shed his blood in order to claim what had always rightfully been his.
He forgot all of that as he pushed Kyle back among the pillows and covered his body with his own, his hands stealing into his wild curls and threading through; his unbearable heat and spice washing over Craig in dizzying waves. Vaguely, he realized that he recognized the shirt Kyle was wearing and laughed a little as he nipped at his bottom lip.
"Are you wearing my shirt?" He asked, his hand creeping down Kyle's side to grip one slim hip; another surprise making him take pause. Looking down, his eyes widened. "Dude, are you not wearing any bottoms?"
Kyle shrugged coquettishly, his eyes overrun with murky viridian and scarlet shades, though the red tones were quickly winning the fight; red dye seeping through.
"I wasn't really thinking straight this afternoon," he said, voice soft and husky. "Is that a problem?"
"Well, no, I mean -" Craig stammered, completely taken aback at this change in Kyle. He was like pulsing, raw energy in Craig's arms; his little spitfire dragging him headlong into the fires of Hell, though Craig didn't mind at all. If anything, he welcomed everything Kyle had to give.
"Shh," Kyle said, kissing him languidly. "Why are you acting shy all of a sudden?"
"I'm not," Craig murmured, suckling his lips and relishing their taste; sweet and plump and all his. "I'm just trying to get used to all of this."
"I'm sorry," Kyle whispered, turning his head away. "I can't believe I'm acting this way. I have no fucking clue what's wrong with me right now."
"Nothing's wrong with you!" Craig exclaimed, turning Kyle's face back toward him and nuzzling at his fragrant neck. "This is all I've ever wanted."
There was a sharp intake of breath as Kyle sat up, staring at Craig with wide eyes; green and red still fighting for precedence.
"Are you serious?" He asked, confusion changing his features until he appeared a meek, scared child. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Craig shook his head and rubbed a hand through his hair, his arousal screaming at him to hurry, hurry; before it was too late and Kyle was taken away again.
"Do you really think it's that simple, Kyle? How was I going to tell you that I've loved you for years; since we were kids? Huh?"
"Oh, my god," Kyle replied, his voice hushed. "You're kidding right now, right? That can't be true."
Craig shrugged, helpless and naked while his entire body continued to cry out for the boy seated before him.
"I'm afraid it is."
"Oh, Craig," Kyle murmured, and he was kissing him again; but this time it was even more intense.
When he drew back, Craig could see that his eyes were almost completely scarlet now; the only green pigment remaining a thin, almost nonexistent slice around his pupils. Heat poured off of him in violent waves that made Craig shudder, and he almost got the impression that Kyle was becoming a solid lick of flame in his arms.
"I don't know what's happening to me," Kyle said, his hands caressing Craig's face. "Something just keeps telling me to run to you, and I don't want to fight it anymore."
"Then don't," Craig replied, his guilt and shame at essentially tricking Kyle in the worst of ways disappearing in the wake of what was being proposed. All at once, he knew that he needed to seal Kyle to his side once and for all, and it needed to happen that night; right there in his bed.
Slowly, almost like a stalking predator, Craig pushed Kyle back against the pillows again, his hands snaking under his t-shirt and rubbing along the skin he'd cherished for over a decade; his fingers claiming every inch as a prize he had earned. Kyle arched into him and moaned, allowing Craig to explore him without hesitation, his whole body seemingly taut and ready.
"What about Stan?" He almost whimpered, his hands coming to settle in Craig's hair and pulling him close.
Craig almost stopped when he asked that question, could practically hear Kyle's true voice calling out and pleading to be heard, for Craig to be the voice of reason and stop things before they went too far; but he couldn't. He just couldn't. Instead, he kissed Kyle's mouth more deeply, his tongue slipping in between his lips and silencing any of his protests. Reaching out a hand, Craig ripped open the drawer of his bedside table and retrieved a small, slim bottle; his thumb snapping it open and pouring some of the substance onto his fingertips.
Kyle sighed as Craig prepared him, and it was the sweetest, most delicious sound he ever heard; a small sound like music, almost like a Chopin nocturne, tender and fragile but capable of violence, too. Slipping his fingers slowly into Kyle's trembling body, Craig made sure to go slow and open him little by little, never wanting to hurt him in a million years, even as he craved him voraciously. Kyle cries escaped his mouth as Craig kissed his throat, the smoldering heat wrapped around his fingertips and making him groan.
After what felt like an eternity of waiting and teasing, Craig unbuttoned his jeans and slid them off, his boxers following soon after. As he watched Kyle breathing heavily, his narrow chest rising and falling as he regarded Craig with hellish bedroom eyes, Craig wrapped his slicked palm around himself and slid the moisture over his own flesh, practically salivating now. Kneeling on the bed, he slid his arms under Kyle's legs and lifted his hips from the bed, almost sobbing when he felt himself pressed against Kyle's heat; the sensation pulling him in and devouring him.
"Are you ready?" He asked, almost afraid to continue because he'd wanted this for so long; so fucking long.
Kyle looked up at him and now his eyes were totally lost in crimson, a hazy paradise building in his irises where wildfires bloomed and forests were consumed; cities crumbling to ash as stars ignited and died, collapsing into black holes. Nodding, he moaned as Craig started pushing inside, and he gripped the blankets in shaking fists; his head tilting back as he was filled.
Craig could hardly comprehend what was happening, and thought that he would surely wake up any moment; this entire turn of events the result of some delirious fever dream, but no, it continued. With every passing moment, he sunk deeper into his Kyle until he was completely within him, and he had to close his eyes against the euphoria that saturated him. With every thrust that followed, slowly at first and then carefully speeding up, his mind traveled over the years; through the days he'd had to pass through before coming to this point.
It was all worth it, he thought, kissing Kyle's neck and nipping at the tender flesh there; his tongue passing over a quickly accelerating pulse. Every dream, every sacrifice; everything, because now he's mine forever.
Any qualms he might have had about his deal with Damien evaporated as he drowned in Kyle, and he knew in that moment that he would've made a thousand deals with a thousand different demons to have even a taste of the boy writhing in his arms and calling his name; he knew that as a clear and irrefutable fact.
It was almost like Kyle had the power to hover over himself as Craig entered his body and claimed it for his own, his heavy breaths striking Kyle's neck and almost making him dissolve away. The fire was back now, but it had turned into a pain that left him breathless with pleasure; the excruciating ache and feeling of loss in his heart disappearing as he called out Craig's name into the darkness.
Craig loved him...he loved him, and he'd felt that way for years. How had he never known? How could they have gone for so long and Kyle never realized the truth; the writing on the wall? What roads led them to this place, to this bed where Craig had him pinned down against cool, white sheets, their bodies merged; binary stars circling one another and becoming trapped in the other's heat?
Once again, Kyle could hear dark voices in his mind whispering and leading him, his own thoughts getting lost in a tide of desire and red fog; the musical chants telling him to surrender, that there was no reason to be afraid. Through the swirling mist engulfing him, through the tempest pulling him across a tumultuous sea, Kyle could still catch glimpses of Stan waiting on a distant shore; calling to him to come back, but the dark murmurs were so much louder.
Surrender, they kept repeating, until Kyle couldn't fight anymore; and he was losing himself in Craig's arms; his body unfolding like a rose while his mind and heart crumbled to ash as the fires raged.