Tweek's Song of the Day: Medicine by Daughter
Craig's Song of the Day: Have We Lost by Flyleaf
Some Boys are Monsters
Rockets and Time Machines
I find myself thankful for the bright display in Token's alarm clock. It's the only thing keeping this eerie room dimly lit. The lights are flicked off, leaving us shrouded in darkness, but my friends are close. My friends are laughing. I sigh contently to myself, feeling comfortable despite the darkness and Craig not being lovey. He isn't cuddling with me or using me as his little spoon like he usually would. He's just laying behind me, sprawled out on his own. Clyde's laying on my other side, a content smile on his face even though bangs are hanging low from his tired eyes. We're so close I can feel our breath intermingle. Token is on the other side of the humongous bed. His back is pressing up against Clyde's.
This is part of a sleeping ritual we always try to break ourselves of. We turn off the lights and lay down, but with four wandering minds under the same covers, sleep can't be had for a while. I don't mind. It's the one way we seem to connect the most sometimes, when there's open space to simply speak our minds about whatever or whoever is stuck on them. It's always been nice to have that, but, now-a-days, I find it more nerve wracking than anything.
Streaming rants about my countless conspiracies of the government's involvement with alien lifeforms or big corporations poisoning our water supply are no longer the sort of thing that sticks in my head. My mind is too busy trying to keep up with Craig to contemplate things like that anymore. Whether or not that's a good thing, I can't be sure, but I do know I'd much rather think about being dismembered in alien experiments than where those big Godzilla hands have been.
I'm usually the first to break the silence with some bizarre, completely random question that leads to deep discussions about life, death, and all the scary and wondrous things in between. Tonight, though, I'm too nervous to open my mouth, making Token the first to speak over the cool air of his bedroom.
"I wonder if Nicole ever thinks about me," he utters quietly. It sounds more matter-of-fact than anything, but there's an emotion there he can't hide.
"Of course she does," Clyde replies. He sounds groggy, more tired than the rest of us as he rubs sleepies out of his eyes. "You guys were together for like two years."
"Hm," Token breathed in response, shifting a bit under his thick, silky comforter. "Yeah..."
"You talk about her too much," Craig interrupts after a moment of hesitation. I can't feel the warmth of his breath on the top of my hair as he speaks. I can't feel his chin ruffle my hair as he situates himself. It bother's me. He needs to be closer.
"Well, sorry," Token mutters in defense. "Didn't realize my break up was so annoying to you."
Craig sighs, his hand coming up to rub the regret of his blurted phrase off the side of his mouth. It's quiet for a while as the awkwardness hangs heavy over us.
"Well...," Clyde speaks in vague defense of our friend. "The first is always hard to let go of, you know."
"The first?" I blather dumbly. "Nichole wasn't Token's first girlfriend."
"No, no. I didn't mean first girlfriend. Um..." Clyde scrunches his face in thought for a moment, and I cock my brow in suspicion.
"How do I explain this to someone so innocent?" He finally mutters after staring at my face a good long while.
Craig huffs out a small snicker, as if that sounded funny for some reason, before taking it upon himself to explain with the most vulgarity he can muster. "He meant Nichole was the first chick Token fucked."
I jerk back to look at Craig in shock and distaste, while all Clyde can do is shake his head disapprovingly.
"All behold Craig Tucker," he says with an arm outstretched, "king of subtlety."
"What?" The giant snickers. "It's not like the guy's never heard of sex before."
My cheeks go red like a ripe tomato hearing Craig say such things, so I hide my blushing face in my hands. It doesn't help much.
"Aw, you embarrassed him," Clyde coos like it's cute.
"GAH! No, no it's fine. That's just... a little awkward," I explain through the crack between my palms.
"Almost eighteen and still thinks hearing about sex is awkward," he utters spontaneously while rubbing his chin between his fingers. "We need to get this poor kid laid or something."
I nearly choke to death on air before gasping, "WHAT?"
Token's laughter mixes in with Clyde's, though his isn't quite as loud and obnoxious, before saying: "Oh, leave him alone. You're a virgin, too,"
"Am not!"
"Getting a hand-job behind a dumpster doesn't count as loosing your virginity," Craig chips in rather monotonously.
I'm amazed with the realization that I wasn't the last one in our group to get down and dirty, but the longer the conversation goes the more frustrated I get. I'm neither a five year old everyone needs to hush around, or a pitiful virgin who needs his friends' help getting laid.
I've had sex before, thank you, even if it was just one time and hurt more than anything.
"Alright, alright, whatever," Clyde sighs in defeat. "At least I'm not the only one who hasn't done it."
"Yeah, you are."
The light air in the bedroom shifts at the sound of my voice, and my friend looks up at me with a bit of a baffled expression. "What?"
"I'm... I'm n-not a virgin," I admit solemnly. My voice sounds so sad when it comes out. It's small, quivering, and quiet.
"Really?" Token laughs in disbelief, because sweet and innocent little Teacup is incapable of doing such a dirty thing. "Since when?"
I bite my bottom lip as the memory of Craig's heavy body flashes behind my eyes. The creaking of my bed frame, the hot puffs of his breath, the overwhelming scent of his cologne seeping into my bare skin, it all still feels so vivid. I wish I could tell them.
"Last week," I whimper.
The room goes quiet until Clyde utters, "... Seriously? With who?"
A strong grip comes to the back of my shirt. It's Craig's tense fist tightening around the fabric. It's a silent plea for me to stop talking, to shut my god damned mouth before I let something slip and ruin his life.
I swallow hard. My heart slams against my chest like a fist beating on a drum. They're all dead silent, waiting for my answer.
"I..." Is all that comes out of me. Craig's grip feels ominous somehow, like a warning. It doesn't help my anxiety in the slightest. "I can't say."
"Why?" Token asks from somewhere across the bed.
I tremble and shake while sputtering to myself. "Fuck, I don't know, man! It's nobody's business."
"Well... does she like you?" Clyde drops into the conversation smoothly. "I mean like... The girl you did it with. Is she your girlfriend, or..."
I look up at the ceiling, contemplating the question. It takes a few moments for me to click SHE and CRAIG together. "She said she liked me one time, but she isn't my girlfriend.. Ah!... I don't know..."
"Teacup..." Token utters my nickname slowly. "That doesn't sound right to me..."
Craig says nothing in the midst of my slip up. The bed shifts and springs squeak as he rolls over, taking the blanket we were sharing with him. He rolls till he's facing away from us, until he is no longer next to us. I remain quiet as well while biting on my bottom lip. I'm so stupid for telling them, but I couldn't help it. I'm sick and tired of everyone thinking I'm something I'm not.
Despite Token's push, the conversation dies when he realizes how clammed up I've become. That's a good thing. Craig's already mad at me as it is. I should have kept my mouth shut. Now, not only is he not using me as a little spoon, but he doesn't even want to lay beside me. That's evident with how far he's hanging off the king sized bed.
I reach back, grabbing the edge of the plush blanket he ran away with. I tug at the small corner, but I can only manage to pull it over my boney hip.
"Craig," I whisper sadly. "I'm gonna get cold."
He doesn't care. He pretends to be sleeping, and the realization that he's ignoring me doesn't help my worry.
"Here, Teacup," Clyde says lightly. "I'll share with you."
He tosses the edge of Token's silk comforter over me, but I don't scoot any closer to the warmth underneath it. I feel bad for not telling my friends about things I do, but I also feel bad for telling them things I promised Craig I wouldn't mention to anyone. I can't win no matter what I do.
I lie wide awake throughout the long night as my friends drift into slumber one by one. I'm always the last to fall asleep, and I'm always the first to wake up. Tonight is no different.
I close my eyes and hope the dimly lit room will lull me into some kind of comfortable rest. It's no use, though, because as the bright green letters of Token's alarm clock slip from two thirty to four in the morning, I'm still laying here with my eyes peeled wide open. Shadows cast on the tall white walls of Token's room look like silhouettes of monsters, and if I lay here long enough I start to hear noises that sound like whispering in the static of the quiet. Fighting the inevitable is only making me restless.
I have to have Craig to be able to sleep in the dark.
I move from my position slowly as not to disturb my friends. Cloth rustles and the mattress squeaks a bit too loudly as I sit up and shift my body. No one is disturbed, though, not even Craig as I carefully crawl over him. Luckily, he isn't as far off the bed as I thought he was. He's laying on his side, one arm outstretched and the other buried under his pillow. It's hard to see him with how dark the room is, but he's limp and relaxed.
I shake him carefully and whisper his name in his ear. A stream of air sucks into his nostrils, but he says nothing. I decide to slip under his covers with him, no matter if he's upset with me or not. I lift his arm up, along with the edge of his blanket, and let the heavy limb fall over me before I burrow into the front of his night shirt. It smells like axe, like he usually does.
With him close I finally feel safe enough to close my eyes, and the rise and fall of his solid chest lulls me to sleep.
...
"Where are we going?" a dull voice asks for the five thousandth time since we left Token's house. It's Saturday, and the brilliant sun is sinking behind mountains and darkened rooftops.
"You'll s-see when we get there," I assure him quietly wile tugging on the front of my dark jacket. We're walking close. My elbow bumps against his side as we lazily slink across the black asphalt of the street. He doesn't bump back, but I assume it's because he's still mad about last night.
"Don't like surprises," the giant reminds me blandly.
"Oh, you don't like anything," I huff back with attitude. "You'll get over it."
He smirks at my feisty response, those thin lips quirking upwards in the cutest way. The way he moves beside me makes my heart pound hard against the fragile cage of my ribs. I'm so tempted to reach out and hold his hand. Cling to him. Hold him. Kiss him.
But I don't.
I can't.
Street lights begin to flicker aglow as we continue on. He's starting to gripe silently to himself about how long we've been walking. I can tell by the twisted look he's wearing, though I don't say anything to assure him of how close we are. I can see it now, the small sign posted along the walkway. It reads Wild Cat Park in big purple letters, accompanied by a similarly colored logo of a tiger's face. It's new, unfamiliar, like the wooden playhouse shaped like a submarine. I take a sharp turn at said sign, veering off to a thin path made of pebbles. With a small grin, I listen to the noises Craig's shoes make when they scrape across pavement to catch up with me. Soon, gravel is crunching under his soles, too.
The park is being overcome with darkness, seeing as how the sun has nearly left us completely. The messy streaks of pink and orange littering the sky are the only remnants left of it's bold colors. Now, a light pole flicks on in the center of the park by the gazebo. We're attracted to its steady glow like moths to a porch lamp.
"It's already getting cold," Craig scolds quietly. By the time I lean up against the light pole those brilliant colors above us have started fading away.
I tug at the collar of the jet black fabric encasing my body. "Well, what do you think I told you to pack blankets for?"
The giant looks down at me with a suspicious stare before averting his gaze up to the birth of twilight. "When you said we would spend the night together this isn't what I had in mind."
I know, Craig. I know.
I swallow hard before working up the courage to take a shaky grip of his hand. The fingers I'm squeezing are limp. Short, black bangs brush against a familiar brow line as Craig tips his head to its side. Curiosity peeked and eyes round like an intrigued animal, he trails behind my tiny frame.
We venture into the landscape. Tall blades of grass crunch under our weight, and nocturnal bugs chirp familiar songs; the same songs we danced to when we were small. Eventually, I spot the silhouette of a tall, pointed structure set apart from the fading colors of the sky. It sends a pang of joy through my core just seeing it still standing tall despite how time has changed this place.
I let go of him to run towards the plaything, my legs kicking under me hard and my small hands reaching out to grab the pole underneath the rocket. I snatch it. My arm jerks as it catches my weight, and I swing around the old metal pipe with the lax limb.
"What are you doing?" He asks cautiously. The looming frame of my best friend stands off to the side as he scans the tall toy with unsure eyes. He jerks the falling strap of his duffel back up over his shoulder. I toss mine up into the hole.
"Come catch me, then you'll find out," I giggle like a mischievous child. Before he can question me yet again, I take a strong grip on the pole and hoist myself up into the spacecraft's hull.
When I emerge from the floor, my excited gaze meets a sight that had always been so magnificent to me: the insides of our childhood space shuttle. We spent countless hours within these metal walls battling hostile alien lifeforms throughout the universe, saving entire galaxies from certain doom, and taking naps when we tuckered ourselves out. This is where it all truly began.
Maybe that's why I'm so devastated.
The floor that was once a shining silver is now dull and worn, metal that at one time seemed so thick and strong has given into spots of rust, and the tall, sturdy walls of our faithful spacecraft have been littered with crude phrases made of sharpie ink and spray paint. The wear and tear is old and expected, but the vandalism is fresh and makes my face twist up.
After hearing a low and disgruntled grunt, I peek down the hole I crawled up in only to find a confused titan staring back at me. He's crouched underneath the vessel, peeking inside with a pathetic frown.
"W-what's the matter?" I ask teasingly. "Come get me."
"I'm too big to fit," he explains while popping his head in from the hole in the floor. His broad shoulders get caught between the mouth of the entrance and the pole, and he wiggles to prove there's no way he's getting in through there. I smile to myself, realizing how much he's grown since we were spacemen.
Blue eyes look up into the dingy room with little emotion. He just stares as if he'd never seen this place before.
"What are we doing here?" he asks, squinting his eyes to see in the darkness.
"Playing a game," I reply with a quirk of a grin.
Crawling over to the man lodged in the floor, I reach out and take his head in my hands before leaning forward and kissing him roughly. He easily gives into my advances despite how cold he's been to me all day, but I deprive him of my mouth when he dips forward to claim it.
He looks at me with a frustrated cock of his brow when I back away from the hole, leaving him stuck there alone. My grin only widens as I press myself against the vandalized wall of the space shuttle.
"C-come get me."
Again, he huffs like an angry bull. He stubbornly jerks upwards to try to squeeze into the small space. The metal tugs at the clothes hugging his body as he pushes himself up, and he gets snagged just as his shoulders get through. A deep and frustrated grumble resonates from his throat when he can't get in any further. Defeated, he sinks back down until only the upper half his head is peeking in.
"You look so sad," I chuckle. "Come on, you can do it."
His hand pokes up beside his face. It's sporting a middle finger, which only makes me laugh harder.
He tries coming in with both arms up, effectively bypassing his thick shoulders and hoisting himself slowly inside. His ribs slide in without a problem, and in rebellion of my teasing he grabs for my ankles. I squeak before pulling my thin legs up and away from his strong grasp. A deep, menacing snicker of a laugh rolls from his throat. I hop up off the floor with a yelp when he lunges for me, but the cloth around his hips gets snagged just long enough for me to scurry up the ladder and into the control room.
I dodge behind the caption's chair, seeing as it's the only thing I can hide behind, but it's so small it's not doing me much good. I hear him moving around underneath me, then the metal I'm sitting on vibrates with a loud thunk.
"... Ow," comes a pained whimper from under the floor.
You're too tall to stand up in here, you gigantic goof.
There's rustling, and then the sound of his boots scuffing the thin metal bars I just scrambled up. When he gets to the top he has to squeeze past the yellow railing encasing the entrance, making him twist his body awkwardly.
"You aren't very good at hiding," he points out monotonously despite the small smirk spreading across this usually blank expression. Realizing he's right, I grumble to myself.
"Not from you. It's l-like you can smell my fear."
He murmurs a raspy kind of laughter as he pivots his hips and slips past the yellow safety bars. I climb up into the caption's chair and rub the heal of my sneaker into the metal floor. The ceiling was made with kids in mind, not Godzillas, so he moves through the vessel in a crouched and uncomfortable looking position.
He takes a seat on the floor beside me. Crossing his legs Indian style, a sigh slips out of his throat, and his blue orbs scan the dimmed scenery outside our spacecraft's open windshield. The moon is rising in place of the sun. Stars hang low from the dark blue atmosphere, twinkling beautifully through the fog of clouds, and the tall trees and mountain sides are mere silhouettes painted onto the sky. It's beautiful, just how I was hoping it would be.
"So," Craig begins from his seat beside me. "Why are we here?"
"I'm taking you to the moon."
He pauses for a moment before looking to me with a twisted mouth and pinched eyebrows. It's apparent he doesn't understand.
The thin, shaky line of my mouth parts to mutter, "I bet your foot is bigger than Neil's."
Silence fills the spacecraft, and his cocked expression wavers. After a thick breath and the mounting tension, he only has one word to utter in response.
"Foot," he mimics in bewilderment.
I catch myself snorting out an ugly laugh, so I stifle the sound with my hands.
"I'm taking you to outer space and all you have to say is foot?" I force out through my giggle fit.
His cheeks tint a shade of pink before he shies away in embarrassment. I can't help but smile at the side of his pierced face. Craig, on the other hand, doesn't seem nearly as amused with the situation as I am.
"Okay," I chuckle while gripping either side of the space shuttle's steering wheel. "Do you want to do the countdown?"
He says nothing, and after a long while I look over my shoulder at the crouching man. His face looks almost sullen in the dark tint of the night.
"Fine, I'll do it."
I press an assortment of random buttons on the dashboard before pulling back on the steering wheel, which does not move.
"Ten, nine, eight, s-seven."
"Tweek," a voice interrupts my counting.
I chose to ignore it, and as I continue on my voice gets louder and louder, more excited, more ready.
"five, four, three, two!"
"Baby, stop."
"One!" I slam my foot down on the gas hard, as if this rusty toy is less like a rocket and more like a time machine. If I count loud enough, if I press hard enough, something will ignite, and everything will be as it was before. Everything will be like it was when we were happy. However, when I look back into the eyes of my lover, they are not the full, bright blue ones I remember from when I was younger. They're still the hard and narrow orbs of ice worn down by time.
"Nothing's going to happen," he utters with a wavering gaze. "It's just a playhouse."
I look away, back out of the open hole that's supposed to be a windshield. The stars are shining with their lovely specks of light, twinkling, just like always. The night sky seems to be the one thing that will always remain the same.
Still, I can't touch it anymore.
He takes a seat beside the captain's chair, one leg crossing over the other as he tries to make room for his massive body. A hand reaches out and gently grips my thigh. It seems to be the only way he knows how to comfort me anymore. The skin on the back of his fingers is rough and worn, and the mountains that are his knuckles are scarred and ugly from years of abuse.
Time has taken its toll on us in awful ways.
No. He's wrong. This is not just a toy. We are not just people. This was a rocket. We were spacemen. We reached out with chubby fingers to grip the edges of stars, and our doe-eyes saw more of the vast universe than any astronaut could ever hope to.
We are not just people, and this has never just been a playhouse. Though he won't admit it, his paper crow proved that he feels the same.
"Close your eyes," I order.
"Tweek-"
"Close them..."
He exhales thickly, but, after a moment's hesitation, obeys for my sake. He looks weird sitting there. The darkness engulfing the room is combatted only with the light of stars, shrouding most of him in shadows.
Again, I begin the countdown. Gripping the steering wheel and steadying myself, I bring an invisible radio to my mouth, mimicking the sound of static before requesting permission to enter the airspace. He stays quiet, his eyes still closed and face emotionless.
"Spaceman Tweek to Huston, are you prepared for liftoff? Sshhhhhhff," I ask into my invisible radio.
"Sshhhfff, Huston to Spaceman Tweek, you have the all clear," I reply to myself in a deep, raspy voice, which makes Craig finally crack the smallest of smiles.
Again, I press a random assortment of buttons on the dashboard and prepare myself for a bumpy ride, accompanying each button press with the appropriate boop sound. Clasping my small fists around the steering wheel, I try the countdown again. I feel more encouraged hearing a quiet, yet amused, puff of breath to my left.
"Ten, nine, eight..."
I gently pat the soles of my sneakers against the metal floor, mimicking the shaky vibrations of starting engines. As the countdown continues, I slam my feet harder and harder, making the floor quiver more violently.
"Six, five, four..."
His hand is still gripping my leg, and his eyes are clamped shut tight. He knows what I'm doing. He can feel me moving, but he's trying. The tightening grip of his meaty fingers gives me hope.
"Three, two, one... Liftoff!" I pause to badly mimic the sound of roaring engines, to create the streams of blazing hot fire and billowing clouds of smoke that I seem to be able to see much better than he can.
The moment his eyes snap open, our little vessel's powerful engines have done their job, and we're being catapulted outside of the atmosphere. The stars are now little more than thin white ribbons zipping by our windshield as we reach full speed, blasting through the dark void at faster than the speed of light.
"You see that?" I ask excitedly, jabbing my finger towards the beauty outside.
"See what?" he comments, seemingly without interest, before adding, "The stars, or your horrible piloting?"
"Shut up, you ass!" I shove him hard, but I'm laughing harder. That doesn't turn out to be the best combination when I spill out of my seat and onto him. He shakes his head at me while I lay half in his lap and half on the chair, but I'm so happy I don't even care.
"And so you let go of the wheel."
"It's on autopilot! C'mon, we have to prepare for our landing!"
I struggle to scramble from his lap, and he only watches me sputter with a faint smile. Jumping from the floor, I bolt for the ladder leading back down into the ship's underbelly. He lazily crawls after me. My humongous best friend finds it hard to move around since the room is much too small for him, but he does his best to keep up with me.
"We already have our space gear packed!" I remind him. "You got the blankets and pillow- those'll be our gear to p-protect us from the freezing cold. Moon nights will make you a popsicle, man!"
Craig listens without a word while we ascend into the hull. My bag is laying on the floor next to the escape hatch. Snatching the kitten covered thing, I pull it open and begin digging through it. He tilts his head when my clenched fist emerges, squeezing something tight, only to drop whatever it is I've retrieved into my pocket.
"We'll be there soon. Zip up your suit, spaceman Craig," I order before leaning forward and doing so myself, latching the zipper of his blue hoodie and zipping it all the way up to his chin. "It'll help keep you w-warm."
He says nothing, and does nothing, as I affectionately smooth out the cloth with trembling fingers. Our spaceship rocks and quivers as we enter the moon's pull. It doesn't come as a shock. This poor old thing has weathered so much over time I'm surprised it even launched.
When we land, I slide down the escape hatch with bag in hand. He stands at the top staring down at me, unsure and confused.
"Come on! Slide down the hatch, hurry!"
He looks around the yellow slide before sitting. The metal frame is almost too small for his hips to fit in, but he manages to make it to the bottom without getting stuck. He looks around, seemingly unimpressed before stepping onto the lunar surface. I try to match his stride, though I end up having to take a massive and unnatural step to come close to where his foot landed.
"One small step for Craig, one giant leap for Teacup."
Again, he tries to fight a smile as he shakes his head at me. I guess it's lame to make space jokes in space.
"I don't remember the moon being so... green," he says while kicking at the grass under his feet.
"Huh? I don't see anything green," I utter before looking around curiously. "Only white, gray, and black... hey, stop kicking up the space dust."
He looks at me with a cocked brow, though he does as I say.
"I heard there are parasites on the moon. Flesh eating ones that crawl in your skin and make you lose your mind," he utters as we start off away from our ship. We're in search of Neil Armstrong's landing site, though I'm sure it will be hard to find in this barren wasteland of nothing but rock and dust.
"Pfft. Where t-the hell did you hear that?" I ask with a disbelieving chuckle.
"I saw it in a movie one time."
I roll my eyes despite my smile. "Because what you see in movies is always true."
We wander about the dusty surface in search of Neil's craft, though so far we've only found rocks, rocks, and a couple more rocks. There's no sign of life anywhere around us, with the exception of our own foot prints.
At least not until we spot the gleam of an unfamiliar spacecraft in the distance. It's large, black, and round like a tire. We're just close enough to make out some odd shapes etched into the craft's side. It seems to be some sort of language, though it's nothing I've ever seen.
"What is that thing?" I question in shock.
"What? What thing?" Craig asks before looking ahead of us with a tilted head. "The jungle gym?"
"That doesn't look like any jungle gym to me! It looks like a ship, though it's definitely not from earth... I wonder what aliens would be doing on the moon."
"Hm... I'll go in and check it out," he decides while stepping forward.
"Oh, goodness. Please, please be careful in there. There could be any race of alien aboard that ship, and who knows if they're friendly!"
"Don't worry, I'll be alright," he assures before crouching down and heading towards the seemingly deserted spacecraft. I wait at a distance rather impatiently while he hesitantly crawls up into the underbelly. I start rubbing my upper arms for warmth. It's starting to get cold out here.
Time passes, and he still hasn't come out. I begin to fidget in worry, gnawing on my thumbnail as I watch the hatch for his return. Eventually, my companion does emerge from the bottom of the mysterious ship, though he's limping. A pained grimace is twisted onto his face as he struggles to keep himself up.
"Craig?!" I shout as he falls to his knees. I run to him, and help him lean back against the unfamiliar craft. He hisses in pain as his back presses against the oddly smooth metal. "Are you alright? What happened in there?!"
"It was deserted. Swarming with these small white larvae. I think they're parasitic," he says lowly. "Tweek, you'll have to go on without me."
"No, Craig! I'm not leaving you!" I holler while pulling hard on the sleeve of his spacesuit. "We're in this tog-gether, remember? Get up!"
"It's over for me," he utters in a small, quiet voice. "They got under my skin. If you don't go, they'll infect you, too."
"No, no. You're staying with me, do you hear me?" I demand. "We're s-staying together!"
"I said... run..."
His heavy blue eyes slide closed. His thick jaw goes slack. His massive body is heavy. All is silent.
"C-Craig?" I whimper pitifully. Shoving his shoulder gently seems to be the only way I can think to wake him from his parasite induced coma, but it doesn't do much good.
I squeal when a strong pair of arms launch up and grab for me. I stumble back and away, landing pitifully on the dusty lunar surface. He rises slowly to his feet, towering stories above me. His face is an emotionless mask. It's almost inhuman how blank and unreadable it's become.
"S... Spaceman Craig?" I mutter in fear.
"I told you I'd get ya," he grumbles in a low, rumbling voice. A dark and mischievous grin spreads across his sharp features.
"No!" I laugh once he's darted down and ensnared me in his grasp. I struggle to free myself of his clutches, twisting and squealing as he chuckles at my expense. "I d-don't wanna be an alien mind slave!"
I manage to work my hands underneath his arms, wiggling the tips of my fingers against his hairy pits. He slaps a hand over his mouth to conceal his bubbly chuckles, but I spare the alien spawn no mercy. He lets me go before falling back on his butt, arms curling in on his torso in a vain attempt at thwarting my counter-attack.
Soon, he's bursting with uncontrollable laughter.
I didn't know his lungs were still capable of making such a noise. It's such a rare, thunderous sound that I find myself caught completely off guard. However, I use this as an opportunity for escape. While the infected giant is stunned, I take off as fast as my feet will allow.
I can make out a large crater jutting high from the ground. I run right towards it, pushing off last minute to veer into a different direction. The wild creature slams his shoulder into the side of the crater, but it isn't long before he's recovered from the blow and is on my tail again. It's no use running. He's six feet of solid muscle, and my head only comes up to his ribs. He'll get me. He'll get me and it'll all be over.
I pump my legs as hard as I can and run around every obstacle to try to deter him. However, this plan is foiled when my foot snags on a moon rock, though the rest of me keeps going. I tumble into the dust, rolling and screaming at the top of my lungs. Craig practically dives onto me. His knees hit the ground with a thunk on either side of my legs, and his big hands shoot down to hold my squirming body still.
"It'll only hurt for a minute," he chuckles darkly. I kick and squeak to try to fight him away, but laughter bubbles out of me when he drops his heavy body on top of me and buries his face in my neck.
He starts giving me kisses.
"Ah! No! Not kisses!" I shriek. I'm wriggling the best that I can under his weight, but I'm cocooned. His teeth sink into the skin over my jugular, nipping at it roughly.
"Ouch!" I chuckle. "You're crawling with alien larva, not a vampire!"
He lifts up, staring at me.
"What's that in your hair?" He asks suddenly, though monotonously.
"H-huh? W-What?! Is it a bug?! Get it out, Craig! Get it out!"
"Oh, calm down," he scolds softly, pinching whatever it is in his fingers. He brings his hand in front of his face before opening his digits. "It was snow."
We both look up. The sky has been darkened to a pitch black state by distant clouds, and little white flakes drift down in a light snow shower that interrupts our play.
"AH! Space dust!"
I lurch out from under him, completely forgetting the infectious parasites that are now surely crawling under both of our skin.
"Hey!" He shouts while jumping to his feet and jogging after me. "Why are we panicking!?"
"Space dust will get stuck in your lungs and slowly suffocate you! GAH! Holy shit man it's the most awful way to go!" I cry out. "I can't die this way! It's t-too much pressure!"
As we jog past our spaceship, I order Craig to retrieve our bags. He does so. I don't slow down in the slightest, though, so he trips over himself to catch back up with me.
"Where are we going!?"
"I don't know! Anywh-" I stop in my tracks, causing Craig to step on the breaks before he manages to run me over. He comes to a bounce of a stop behind me, looking up and squinting into the darkness, confused.
"Do you see that, Craig?" I ask quietly, earnestly.
"What? I don't see anything," his head jerks around as he scans the falling snow. His voice is a bit high pitched and labored from all the excitement.
"There, don't you see it?" I point ahead of me towards a white metal structure standing amidst white dust and moon rocks.
"The... playhouse?" he asks slowly while leaning forward and squinting at the wooden thing. He knows it's the wrong answer.
"That's no play house!" I shout before grabbing his hand and pulling him forward. "It's the Eagle! Neil's ship!"
Craig chuckles as we venture onward towards the vaguely familiar craft. We set up camp inside by making a pallet out of the few materials we brought, including the comforter Token let us borrow, though he didn't even bother to ask us why we'd need such a thing.
Here enveloped in said comforter and his arms I feel so safe and warm despite the sudden falling of snow outside. He adjusts the edge of the blanket laying across my chest as I watch the white flakes flutter past the open holes making up the pretend windows of the playhouse, or spaceship, rather. Most everything is black in the distance, the thick puffs of snow being the only things illuminated by the nearby light pole. His hands continue smoothing out the puffy fabric laying over my ribs even though I think he's got it as straight as it can be. He's propped up on his elbow, resting his head on the ball of his other palm. I smile tiredly at him before rubbing the sleepies out of my eyes, but he doesn't smile back. He just idles there, watching me blankly.
"W-what are you staring at me like that for?" I mutter with a puff of groggy breath.
He looks away in embarrassment, though he still answers. "It's been... a really long time since I heard you laugh like that. Really long time..."
I give him a crooked, lazy grin. "Yeah... It's been a long time since I really heard you laugh at all..."
"That's what happens when you grow up, I guess," he replies quietly.
I shake my head. I don't think growing up means changing into what we have. I don't think it means forgetting what it was like to need help to reach the counter, or feeling warm asphalt under bare toes in the summertime. I don't think it means giving up on happiness, either.
"Do you remember when we first met?" I ask thoughtfully through the chilly October air.
Craig takes a moment to contemplate the question. "No... You've just always been with me."
I can't help but smile at that.
"Aw... Well, I do. I was sitting by myself on the merry-go-round when you came out of nowhere and started pushing. You asked if my name was Twig."
"Huh? Fuck, how old were we then, like six? I can barely remember what happened yesterday, let alone a damn decade ago."
"What do you remember?"
He goes quiet a moment before laying his head down on his arm and stretching out beside my cocoon of blankets.
"I remember..." he recounts groggily, "the sun being bright and the way the grass smelled... the sounds we made when we played together. Pew pews and giggling."
"And?"
"I remember how happy I made you..." he mutters quietly with closed eyes, almost as if he's watching videos of us as children behind his lids. "I don't know when I stopped doing that."
I flinch. His eyebrows furrow together, but he can't seem to rummage deep enough in his mind to find the answers he's looking for.
"I forgot all about playing spaceman until you wrote me my song..."
"Hm. You mean that dumb little poem thing?" I mutter with a sigh.
"It's not dumb," he says firmly. "I wrote a lot of songs for a lot of people, but nobody's ever wrote one for me..."
"Oh..."
His eyes fix onto my face. I jerk a little when cold fingertips find the warmth of my chin. They trickle up my jaw to my cheekbone, where the coarse pad of his thumb rubs along the bag beneath my lashes. Everything gets blurry, and I start seeing double when his rough digit carefully presses on the edge of my lids.
"What're you doing?" I chuckle lightly. Reaching up with a small hand, I clasp some of his fingers in my trembling grip.
"...I'm trying to understand," he admits in a shush of a breath.
I tilt my head in the cloth of our pillow. "Understand what?"
His gaze grows softer. His thumb lifts from the corner of my eye, relieving it of his gentle touches and restoring my vision.
"What you see when you look at me." His scarred knuckles timidly caress loose strands of my hair.
I give him a funny look, my eyebrows knitting together. "I see you. What else would I see?"
His face twists slightly at my answer, thin lips cocking awkwardly. "See."
He looks away in thought. It's always been hard for him to get the things in his head out of his mouth, especially when it comes to more emotional subjects. I can see how much of a struggle it is just for him to form his own words rather than mimic mine.
He breathes out a low puff. Suddenly, he seems so distressed. "You can't be seeing me..."
"W-why not?" I ask in genuine concern.
"Cause I'm not worth this," he finally admits. His eyes have an odd shine to them, and his lips are tight as they curl into a frown. "When you look at me your eyes get all bright, just the like they did when we were kids. It's like you're looking at something special, but I'm not special. I'm not different. I'm just another lying piece of shit who couldn't keep his hands to himself."
Nothing fills the air between us besides the familiar, distant echo of a barking dog and my stunned silence. I think about opening my mouth to reply, but my tongue is dry and lips only part awkwardly.
His arm goes limp over my torso, but his hand finds my upper arm. His fingers fiddle with the fabric of my sleeve. "Just tell me... Why is it that when all I ever do is make you cry, you still try so hard to make me happy?"
I lay still for a moment before thinking to reach into my pocket. My hand emerges, clasping my fingers into a fist. I reach it out to him. His own, much larger, hand comes out underneath mine, and I drop a small, green, plastic star into his palm.
He rolls the shape around in question until his face falls drastically. He realizes what it is, and he remembers where it's from.
His thick fingers straighten out, flattening as the small star lay comfortably in the center on his palm. The last time he clutched to the plastic his fingers were much smaller, and it's obvious his mind has wandered back to when we were innocent. To when we were happy. It fits differently in his palm now, though he and I still fit together just the same.
"Because that's what you do when you're in love with somebody," I finally confess.
He swallows thickly at my answer. Despite the lost look he's sporting, I keep smiling. I keep smiling, because I'd rather him not see me cry. With a stone face, he gets on his knees. It's a surprise when the giant climbs over top of my blanket-covered form and lies down on top of me. My arms slide up over his shoulders and wrap around his neck, holding him tenderly while he buries his face in my chest.
His breath is thick and heavy as I comb my fingers up under his hat. He lifts his head the slightest bit so he can see my face through the brim of his short bangs. I place a soft kiss on his forehead.
...
"Don't yell," a familiar voice utters from somewhere nearby. I rub my eyes before looking around the room to find Craig sitting up beside me. He's facing away, but I can still see the very tip of his long nose from the edge of his cheekbone. He's shivering. White wisps seep from his mouth as he speaks into his phone, and he's curled tight against his legs.
I sniffle through a runny nose before retreating further into my blankets, where our body heat's been thankfully trapped.
"No... I already told you where I am... If you'd just listen for five seconds-" he pauses abruptly. "I said don't fucking yell at me."
He sounds infuriated. So infuriated that I slide my head further under my covers in fear.
He groans. "I'll be home in like an hour, alright? Get your balls out of a knot."
With that, he hangs up his phone in the middle of a reply while shaking his head.
"Craig?" I mutter from our sheets. I try to climb out, but bitter cold air seeps into my skin like numbing needles.
He turns his head back at me, the light pole outside casting an odd glow across him.
"Tweek..." he utters quietly. "I'm gonna take you home now, okay?"
"Um... Okay," I reply groggily. Tightening my jacket around me, I crawl out from under the blankets and reach for my knapsack. Craig gets to work packing all of our stuff back up.
"Who was that?" I ask. "On the phone, I mean."
"My dad," he mutters tonelessly. "My phone was on silent. They called like twelve times. Guess they're out looking for me."
I frown. "Y-you're in trouble?"
A scoff slips from his teeth. "Like always. Let me carry that."
He takes my bag from me before tossing it over his other shoulder. I get up and wander to the door, but stop abruptly.
"T-there's snow everywhere!" I blurt while looking out at the thick white blanket that most definitely wasn't there when I dozed off.
"It didn't stop," he says. Standing up, he carries each of our bags on his back like a pack mule. "You ready?"
"N-no! I'm wearing Crocs!" I cry out. "My feet will get frost bite by time we make it to my house!"
"Sandals in October?" he questions with the cock of his brow.
"Well, I didn't think it'd snow!"
He sighs before stepping forward and leaning down, snatching me off of my feet like a bride and cradling me against his chest. It's so much colder than it was when we fell asleep. I huddle close in his hoodie for warmth, but it does little for my freezing toes. His big boots leave tracks from the playhouse to the street, where he bounces me up to get a better hold. I can't even see the sidewalk in all the mess, only watered down slush on the street from where cars have been driving back and forth over the snow.
I wipe at my eyes with one hand and cling to him with another. Dead silence rings out between us and the lifeless looking houses we pass by. Cars sit empty in their driveways, every window is dark, and the fresh layer of snow remains untouched with the exception of tire marks and Craig's tracks.
When we make it to the end of the road, he stops as a white truck putts by us. I sneeze into my sleeve and sniffle sickly. It's hard to keep warm with the snow still floating down upon us in thick clusters. I'll end up with a cold for sure.
"You'll be home soon," he promises while carrying me across the road.
A couple more cars pass by us in the midst of the snow shower, but one takes more interest than the others had. A dark SUV slows down as it comes closer to us. Craig ignores the vehicle, even as it passes by only to pull into a neighbor's driveway and turn around. It's engine growls as it creeps along down the street, coming up beside us and lowering it's window.
"What the fuck are you doing out here, boy? Your mother's been worried sick all damn night," a voice barks from said SUV. I peek up around my legs and Craig's arm to see a familiar man in the driver's seat. A familiar man who is wearing a winter coat and an angry face. Craig doesn't stop walking. Mr. Tucker doesn't stop following. "Get your ass in this car or I swear to god-"
Craig speeds up a bit. Fresh snow crunches under his soles and white smog seeps from his cold lips.
"I'm taking Tweek home," he informs his infuriated father rather expressionlessly, though his grip on my legs and back tighten.
He looks us up and down, not at all pleased with the sight. "Can't the boy walk his own self home?"
Craig says nothing.
"Fine. Get in the car and we'll drop him off," Thomas orders.
Still, Craig does not stop, and the tires of Thomas's SUV slowly smash slush underneath them.
"We ain't got all night, boy. Get in the fucking car!"
"Fuck you," Craig spits.
Thomas stops his car. Craig stops walking.
The tension between the two is thick and poisonous, though Craig's agitated back talking is no match for Mr. Tucker's dark stare.
With a defeated growl, my companion turns to the black door of his father's vehicle. Carefully, he balances me and our cargo before pulling open the door and gently setting me in one of the passenger seats. I'm still shivering, so he takes my blanket from my bag and drapes it over my thin legs. His father is watching us in his rear view mirror, but Craig doesn't seem to care.
He steps away, slamming the door shut before walking around the SUV and climbing into the front passenger seat. I take a look around the vehicle, feeling a little in awe since I've never been inside this one before. It's rather plane with six seats and all gray leather seats.
A small decoration hangs from the rear view mirror. Clear pieces of plastic house Ruby and Craig's school pictures, each hanging from a silver chain.
"What the hell is the matter with you?" His father spits before stepping on the gas. I wrap myself up in my blanket, though I keep my eyes on the men in the front seat. "You're lucky I found your sorry ass before your mother called the cops."
Craig doesn't reply, only looks out the window as his father blows steam. I can see the man's big hands griping the steering wheel tightly from the edge of his seat, knuckles nearly going white.
"I just don't get it, boy. Why disappear like that knowing damn well you're already in trouble as it is?" Thomas asks bitterly. "I don't know what to do with you anymore."
Craig's breath remains steady as his eyes lock on anything but his father. "Nobody does."
Thomas swallows hard as we travel down the snowy street. "Well we're going to have to change something. Stealing my booze, not coming home at night, fighting with teachers- you know they're only going to put up with your bullshit for so much longer. You think I'm mean, kid? Just wait and see how fucking mean I am if you get yourself kicked out of school."
"What are you gonna do?" Craig sneers. He sneers like he knows his words will sting like a dagger in the heart. "Beat me?"
Thomas's infuriated expression wanes into one of shock, and he takes a quick glance at his son. His brows are pinched together. His mouth's pulled down into a frown. The pained look in his eyes is unlike anything I've seen, but Craig isn't looking.
"Hey, you're gonna miss Tweek's turn."
I jerk when the brakes get slammed into the floor. The SUV slides to a stop, luckily just in time for us to turn onto my street without any back tracking.
My house looks just like all the others when we pull into the driveway, barren and lifeless. The windows are all dark. There's not even so much as the light of a television flickering through the living room curtains, though I'm not surprised. My phone says it's two in the morning. My parents are surely sleeping right now, rather than up scouring the town for their missing boy as the Tucker family had been.
The vehicle comes to a stop in my driveway, and not a word is spoken as I push open the door and step out onto the cold snow. My Crocs were definitely not meant for this weather. The cold flakes get kicked up into my shoes as I walk to the front stoop. I grab the handle, but it won't turn.
"What the..."
I turn it again and again only to realize my parents locked me out. They never lock the door when they don't know where I am. Never.
"Mom?" I holler, slamming on the door with a tight fist in panic. I know she won't be able to hear me all the way upstairs in her room, but I can feel Craig and Thomas's eyes on me. This is beyond embarrassing.
I walk around the house, trudging through bitter cold snow and bumping into bushes to get to the back door. Sadly, it's locked as well, along with all the windows I can reach.
Defeatedly, I walk back around to the driveway, where Thomas and Craig still sit in their SUV. Anxiously, I walk up to the car and tap lightly on Mr. Tucker's window with a freezing fingertip. He rolls down the tinted glass as I shiver.
"Ain't your folks waiting up for you?" Thomas asks.
"I... guess they aren't home," I lie in shame. He glances up at their snow covered car that's sitting only a few feet away from where he parked. With a frown, he looks down at my shivering form through the cold, white flakes.
"Get back in," the man grumbles. "You can sleep on the couch."
"Huh? No, it's okay! You don't have to do that. I can just wait for them. I'm s-s... sure they'll be back soon..."
"I ain't leaving no kid out in the cold by himself," Thomas informs me sternly. "Get in before you freeze to death."
I'm taken off guard by his kindness, seeing as how the man never seemed to care much for me. Still, Craig's living room sounds a lot more comfortable than sleeping on the bench in the garage.
"Um... Alright..."
Amberr-Lynn, xenoaddict, 0Foxface0, Vcorrigan, Zelach, dahmereatsrainbows, CREEK4EVER(guest), Yumiko Koumori, Tribal Moon Ma'iingan, kid from Tumblr (Guest), Crazy88inator, Guest, AwesomeSpellsPrussia, darkskyslove, HURRYTHEFLUFFYUP (Guest), vanillafantasy, eda1102, Cheq (Guest), Ms Briar, Wolfheart4, Maeve-Juniper, and MaroonedInThisBody, holy crap thank you guys so much for all the support.