Yes Yes. I know. I will try harder. But, I have two chapters for you, kind of as one chapter. I also want to say holy shit, I never expected this fic to get over 15 on anything tbh. It actually makes me so god damn happy thank you so much. If you guys ever want to get interactive with me, my Tumblr is the same as my username on here. Also, next chapter will be from another character's point of view, I want you guys to guess who.
Thank you so much and enjoy!
Past Craigs POV:
I hate people. Adults, kids, any kind of human life form, I could care less about. So that is why I try to avoid any kind of interactions with them. Yet, I allowed myself to get dragged into fighting the kid with the coffee addiction. The most annoying thing to come out of this situation is that my parents are pissed, the only emotion I believe they can feel. Probably the reason why I only have the emotion of not-giving-a-fuck. But the almighty Craig Tucker got fooled into fighting the kid whose parents haven't even visited their injured son in the hospital. Weak.
That does not mean I have sympathy for the kid, he beat the shit out of me.
"Rrrraa-AGH!" oh yes, a common noise that escapes the tiny blonde. Usually, it wouldn't make me lose control of my emotions, but this kid is making me lose control of my emotions.
The combination of bruising and irritation throbs at the right side of my head, causing me to tightly shut my eyes. I try to ignore him but the pressure in my head becomes too much to handle. Wow, sounds like something he would say to be honest.
"What." I snap at him with pointed eyes. He shifts in my direction with his own wide, one twitching with a look of panic. I can see it clearly since the beds are only separated by a few inches. For some reason, the throbbing stops for a moment during the eye contact. The orbs in his skull look like marbles, like planets, having their own atmosphere and gravitational pull. He looks hesitant to answer what he assumes is a question.
"Do you believe in a-aliens!?" he manages to spit out, fast with a slight stutter. I see them on the old TV in the corner, playing Ancient Aliens or something. Oh, that explains the tremors and paranoia. Everyone knows Tweek Tweak believes his own shadow is out to get him.
"Yeah." I respond flatly. I expected to see an increase in panic but instead see his shoulders lower.
"Really!?" enthusiastic and absent of any distress. I reluctantly nodded, confused by this new attitude. He lets out a relieved sigh and fully faces me on the hospital bed.
"Everyone says I'm insane! My m-mom says aliens are not real and I j-just have an overactive imagination!" he explains with hand gestures to emphasize his point. Instead of just ignoring him like I usually would, I continue in the dialog exchange.
"Anyone who says aliens are not real is dumb." I tell him matter-of-factly. He smiles at me like I am the first person who hasn't called him crazy.
"I'm an astronaut." I tell him to back up my explanation. His face brightens like I could help him win a trial in court. Which, I probably could, just saying.
"Have you met any?" he asks. I try to think back to all the times I have played astronaut and the encounters I had with extraterrestrial beings.
"Yeah. It was a female. Looked like the baby of a gremlin and a human. The intruder's name was Tricia." I tell him with a disgusted face. He laughs at me, realizing I am not a real astronaut. Yet he continues the conversation like he doesn't know.
"That's amazing dude! Have you b-been to the stars?" he asks.
"Yeah. I have a ton of those glow-in-the-dark ones that stick on my ceiling in constellations. It is pretty cool, and I use my red racer bed is my spaceship." I explain, pride dripping from my words as I describe how cool my room is.
"You have to take me to space, man!" I nod in agreement, spaceman Craig always helps civilians learn more about space. While I mentally pat myself on the back I hear him ask me another question. "What is your favorite season of red racer?" Well, that's an easy one.
"All of them." I tell him, no hesitation. What kind of question is that? Every episode is a work of art. He smiles again and nods.
"I like the episode w-when they introduce his brother. It made for g-great character development." I perk up and enthusiastically nod.
"It was like, one of the best decisions they made." I agreed. Why have we never spoken to each other before? He is so cool when you talk to him. His tremors stop and the weird distressed noises cease into a stutter. I beat up probably the only cool kid in South Park, Clyde says that Red Racers brother is an unnecessary character. That they should have made it a hot sister which would do nothing to the god damn storyline, Clyde. Or Token saying that the stars on my ceiling make it hard for him to sleep, ignoring the amount of effort I put into setting up those damn stars. Then I think about the fucking shitheads that got us into this mess.
"I hate those assholes." I abruptly announce. "They did all this shit for their own entertainment." Tweek looks at me puzzled but is then taken by the realization, or maybe he forgot about them for a second.
"Th-those assholes." He mutters under his breath. He turns his attention back to me with apologetic eyes.
"I'm really s-sorry for all of this. I never let th-them to talk me into a-anything, fighting being the l-last thing I want to do!" he tells me. "I-I just didn't want you t-to think I was chicken…" is the next thing he says, much softer, but I still hear it clearly.
"Me too. I never thought you were a chicken, though." I say back. He perks up then suddenly reaches for the crayons and paper the hospital supplied us with. He puts the materials on a food tray and covers the empty gap between us. I watch as he begins to draw something till my attention span depletes and I focus back on my thoughts.
I lean my head back, nothing those dickheads said was true, so I am in the hospital for a fight I didn't even want to be in. All because of, probably, some kind of bet they put on us. That sounds like something those pieces of shit would do.
"GAH!"
From the small amount of time that I have been enclosed with him, I learned that means he has something on his mind he doesn't know how to say. It snaps me out of the anger that was beginning to bubble. I turn to hear what he has to say, yet the usual sight of the blond is replaced with a drawing of what seems to be me, Tweek, and an alien. We are both wearing space helmets with big stars filling the background. He blinks at me, waiting for my approval. With our close proximity, and my abnormally long arm span for my age, I reach my hand into his golden hair. Entangling my fingers to mess up the already unruly locks. He flinched at first but slowly leans into my touch.
His trembling stops for the moment while his eyes close, like a Guinee pig. "That's really cool." I tell him while I retract my hand. His eyes open with sparkles overtaking them, a sign of pure happiness. Cute. Just like Stripe.
"Do you like Guinee pigs?" I impulsively ask. What a one track mind I have, that's usually what my mom says it is. He nods his head rapidly and puts another piece of paper down on the table tray. I watch as his crayons scribble away till it resembles the image of the fuzzy little creature I brought up. But it is not just any fuzzy little creature, it is MY fuzzy little creature.
"Is that stripe?" I clarify with an inflection in my voice. He nods again this time with red creeping up his cheeks.
"Y-you brought him to s-school a few times." He tells me with a smile. I can't help but be surprised, I never thought that Tweek paid attention to anything besides his own thoughts. I take the orange crayon off the table and draw a small carrot at the bottom of the page.
"He likes carrots, they're his favorite." I tell him in the way my mom talks about my sister in dresses. Tweek smiles and takes out another piece of paper. He begins to draw Red Racer, but instead, it's me inside of the costume. I pick up another crayon and start drawing Tweek as Red Racers brother.
We spend the rest of the day doodling and talking about everything to us but probably nothing to others. The fun came to a stop when the nurse gave us our medicine and turned out the lights. It was bedtime for the whole hospital. The moon was illuminating through the small window, the only light being produced through the room. After about ten minutes of silents, Tweek begins mumbling to himself. I decide if I do not take action right now, I won't get any god damn sleep.
"Tweek"
"GAH NOOOO!" he exclaims shaking his bed.
"Calm down." I tell him and he just whimpers in response. "What's wrong?" I turn on my side and face him. He sits up.
"The underpants gnomes!" He yells. "They will get me!" his fingers grab his hair and begin to tug. I sigh, adjusting myself to move the small tray so it is not between us. I scoot over to the opposite side of the bed and open up my blanket. A gesture I was sure he would understand but the moonlight proved me wrong by exposing his confusion. I just sigh again.
"Come here. They can't get you in here." I see him try to rationalize it in his head, but hesitantly, he gives in. He slowly climbs into the bed with me. Careful, so that he does not push his bed away or fall. I wrap my arm and the blanket around him, safely securing him in my bed. His tremors begin to subside with even breaths. His hands grab gently at my arm rather than his hair, making a small part of me relieved.
"Better?" I ask him as I adjust my body to fit with his. I can't help but think that his tiny stature fits like a puzzle piece with my own, abnormally large body. The tenseness that is Tweek slowly unravels as all signs of anxiety fade into the dimly lit room.
"Mhmm." Is all he responds with, a tired confirmation. I take the hand that is not wrapped around him and put it in his hair. So soft, so cute.
"This shitty situation turned out to be the most fun I have had." I add sleepily as Tweek's grip slightly tightens in response. A sign that he feels the same. While we fall asleep, I feel a smile tug on my lips.
