Chapter Track: I'm Into You by Chet Faker

The days get dark so early here. I wonder what it would be like to live somewhere where the sun is out until eight at night. If the days were longer, you could get more done. Places that get dark around five are for lazy people. It feels like the day is over and all anyone wants to do is go home and sit in front of the fire.

I can't believe I'm walking to Token's right now. It's freezing. You know what? I can believe it because Craig's been making me feel really weird lately and I think there's not much I wouldn't do for him. I had to walk out of the café. I knew my parents wouldn't let me leave, especially if I told them where I was going. I guess I could've lied and said I wanted to go to the formal, which they would have been happy about and even given me money for it, probably but hindsight's always 20/20. It doesn't matter anyways. I'm almost there by now.

But now, my feet are numb, my face is numb, I'm wet, and covered in melted snow. I should've drove but the car is with my parents at work and my mentality was that nothing in South Park is too far but when it's snowing this hard with half a foot of snow on the ground and Token's house is in the rich neighborhoods out of town and up a big hill, I guess, I didn't really think this through. Luckily, I'm walking up the hill now so in a few minutes I'll be home free and in the lovely warmth of Token's mansion, hopefully cuddling a Craig.

I want to ask Craig tonight why Clyde babies him so much. I doubt he'll tell me anyways but I feel closer to him somehow. Well, I guess I know how, but I mean emotionally, not physically. But physically too...

Clyde said he isn't talking to him anymore. I don't know what that means. Is he so depressed that he won't even talk to his best friend about it? I don't know why Clyde thinks he'll talk to me but it's worth a shot. Craig always seems really complicated and then turns out to be so simple minded. I wonder if I could get him to smile like his mom did today. Before when we were together I'd focus on trying to make him laugh but somewhere along the way I just accepted his neutral face and expressions. Maybe I should go back to that.

I just hope this funk isn't a real problem for him because I know, as hopeful as we are, his parents finding out now is inevitable. I'm just waiting for it. I'm assuming that they don't know yet since they came in the shop today but maybe... they came in because they know. It didn't seem so. I don't know. I'm too paranoid to take my thoughts seriously anyways. The point is, when they do I don't know how they're gonna react or if they're gonna be mad. I've heard the horror stories. They could be so mad they kick Craig out or send him away. And I think if you add that to his current mood, he'd fall apart. I don't know if Craig can even compute that abundance of emotions. And, as curious as I am, I'd rather not see it.

So, Clyde's right. I need to nip this in the butt. I need to assure Craig it's going to be okay and if he doesn't believe me which he probably won't, we need to talk about what we have to do to make it okay. It's crazy coming from me because I'm so unstable myself. Can I be sure about anything? I need to fucking pretend that I can. For Craig. Right? Shit.

When I can see the Blacks house in the distance I start a slow jog. It's hard because the snow is so thick. My last step in the snow pulls so hard my shoe comes off. I, by impulse, stop to try to receive it but quickly realize that it would be an impossible task. The snow is so thick and my shoe is long gone and also not worth the cold and wetness my arm would have to endure.

I figure Craig's upstairs so I won't bother him to let me in, especially when I know how to let myself in. I go through the whole procedure. It's more tedious than I anticipated. Because I'm taller than Craig I had thought it might be easier but it's also snowing harder today so, climbing a tree plus my missing shoe and my foot is scrapped to hell and my hands are numb and wet. I might as well have grabbed my shoe. Shit, man.

I finally reach the nest and yank the key from it before falling for the second time into a pile of icy cold snow. It touches every exposed piece of skin on my body; my face, my hands, and even the tiny hole in my sock endures the biting weather. I pull myself off the ground, regretting every decision I've made today, starting with working with my parents. I brush the snow off of my coat and trudge up to Token's back door.

I shove the key in the lock and push open the door, breathing out a sigh of relief when the heat engulfs my body. I press the door shut behind me, kick off my shoes, drop my wet coat and enter the kitchen. I grab a snack while passing through, just an apple. I think about grabbing one for Craig but he probably already ate.

I finish half the apple in the kitchen in the dark, just watching the snow fall outside. It's a lot prettier when you're not walking through it. Or maybe it could be and I just focus on the negative side of things. I shrug and leave my apple on the dining table, promising to take care of it before I leave but right now I want to see Craig. I want to kiss Craig actually. A lot. Hard, maybe even.

But I stop.

I heard a noise. It's a weird noise. Someone's in the living room. It has to be Craig right? I know it is but I'm psyched out by what Clyde said earlier. I know that's the stupidest thing ever but I'm a paranoid person so shut up.

Suddenly aware of every sound I make, I tip toe to the opening between the kitchen and living room. I peak from around the corner slightly, heart pounding in my chest. I hope I don't die today. At least not before kissing Craig. Would an intruder be accommodating to that? I'd have to give away that Craig's here too though. They'd probably find him anyways right? I should try to save him though...

My eyes widen and I quickly pull my head away from the door-less frame. Holy shit. I blush hard. Holy shit. I should've knocked. Holy shit. I'm the intruder. I'm creeping around a house Craig thinks is empty. I didn't even text. He doesn't even know I'm coming- here. He doesn't even know I'm here and now... Jesus.

I peek around the corner again. Craig in the living room. He's the one that made the noise. And the noise, well, it might have been a moan... He's on the couch- he's laying on the couch- facing away from me (thank god) and he's- he's... fucking hell, he's masturbating.

I can see his hair spilling over the arm of the couch. He's in his T shirt and boxer but his boxer are lowered around his thighs. My stomach tightens. I'm so ashamed to be turned on right now. Am I? Mildly. I'm mildly ashamed to be turned on right now.

His knees are apart with one resting against the back of the couch and the other hanging somewhat over the edge. The hand that he doesn't have wrapped around himself is supporting his head and tussles of hair. Gosh, he's beautiful in everything he fucking does.

Whether or not I come out right at this moment or in two minutes he's gonna realize I showed up and saw him so I'm thinking it doesn't make a difference. Ha. I'm a terrible person. Craig exhales heavily and I clench my teeth. Oh, man.

Bump what I said earlier. I'm not ashamed to be turned on by my boyfriend masturbating, I'm ashamed that I'm almost overjoyed about my timing and decisions to not inform Craig I was coming so that these events could occur.

I wonder if he ever uses his fingers. I bite my lip. It doesn't surprise me that he doesn't watch anything to get off but I'm curious about what he's thinking about. I flash back to that time I made him admit it was me but am suspicious that he was lying. I know I jack off thinking about Craig, though I hardly jack off anymore since we started seeing each other. When I do, it's hard not to. I just can't not think about him naked when I'm turned on. Plus the dark hair, light eyes thing is so attractive to me especially with his jaw and when Craig gets stubble I want to shoot myself that I can't kiss him in public.

I watch Craig a little longer just to see his technique because I believe that if you really wanna know how to get people off, watching them masturbate is the perfect way. You know yourself best but Craig doesn't wanna talk about that stuff and he'd never masturbate in front of me if I asked. But when Craig lets out a quiet moan that sends a shudder through my body, I stand up straight and walk into the living room.

Craig doesn't notice me until I speak. "That's hot."

He jumps, covering himself with his shirt quickly before his head whips around. "Tweek! What the shit?!" Craig's his reddest shade. Or at least the reddest I've seen him. "God, fucking heard of knocking? Or calling?"

"It's kinda rude to jack off on other people's couch, huh?"

"Goddamn it, Tweek! Get out!" He spits furiously.

I laugh. He's being really cute right now. Unbearably so. "I've seen you naked before. I've seen you with a boner before. Calm down." I walk towards the couch. "You don't have to be embarrassed."

"How fucking long were you there?!"

"Not relevant," I decide, stopping in front of him.

"You're such a fucking prick. I hate you."

I take his leg and move him so he's sitting upright on the couch with his legs hanging over. "What are you doing? Don't touch me." But he lets me move his legs apart. I kneel in front of him. "Tweek."

"God, you're beautiful," I tell him. And I've said it before... but it's weird this time and Craig notices too. It's more sincere even though I've meant it every time. This time it's almost scary. We both chose to ignore it though and it's most likely because I'm about to blow him, either way I'm happy we do.

I take his hands away from his crotch revealing his erection once more. I place my hand at the base of his shaft and take the head in my mouth. I don't know exactly how long Craig's been at it but I can assume he's pretty much done which is good because I'm trying really hard to not get hard right now.

As soon as I touch him his head drops back against the couch. Slowly, more of Craig's length enters my mouth until he's hitting the back of my throat. He covers his mouth with his hand. I'd stop his action if I were also trying to get off but since his moans really turn me on I'm glad he does this. I drag my lips all the way back up him while my hand starts to move at the base of his dick, jacking him faster because I know he's almost there. His hips buck into my hand and I'm so overwhelmed with my feelings for him at this moment, I wish I didn't have a dick in my mouth. So I push the thoughts aside to address later. Maybe at a more appropriate time. Three in the morning sounds good. Craig laces his fingers into my hair which I promptly put a stop to because I'm trying really, really hard to not get a boner and like all the odds are against me.

It doesn't take much before Craig comes and I realize there was no condom used again and I'm disappointed in myself. Like, a little bit I guess.

I'm forced to swallow since I don't know what else to do that wouldn't be awkward and park myself on the couch next to Craig. I realize that he might not want to kiss me since I just swallowed his load but I don't fucking care because I just swallowed his load. So I politely tuck himself back into his boxers while he catches his breath and then tilt his face towards mine to take his lips. We kiss for a minute before I release him and he sighs.

"Thanks."

I groan, "Don't thank me for giving you a blow job. It's weird."

"You know what's really weird? You, calling me beautiful."

"I call you beautiful all the time," I point out.

"Yeah," he says. "But, it's just how you said it."

"Ha. That doesn't make any sense, Craig. You should just stop talking."

"Hm," is his only response. Then he changes the subject thankfully because it's definitely not three in the morning yet. "Don't ever do that again, Tweek. Not okay."

I shrug. "It seemed okay."

Craig rolls his eyes, standing. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," I follow Craig into the kitchen. "You didn't eat?"

He shrugs, "I did a while ago but I'm hungry again."

"Should we like, cook something?"

Craig glances at me skeptically, "What do you know how to cook?"

"Uhm," I say. "Well, not much but I can cook. I used to watch my mom cook all the time when I was little. I was like way gayer when I was little."

Craig pulls the fridge door opens and smiles. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah," I tell him. "You should remember, Craig. I was such a pussy and I was always taking my mom's shit. Seemed like something I should've been doing. She'd always get so mad about it though. 'Cause her OCD, you know?"

Craig nods, "Well, what're your specialties because I can make ramen and mac and cheese."

I think. "Depends on what Toke has in stock."

Craig laughs. "He's pretty stocked."

"Do you have any preferences?" This I'm fully tuned in for. I'm learning stuff about Craig and it interests me.

"I don't like tomatoes or spicy food, if that's what you mean."

"We could make quesadillas."

Craig nods, "Yeah, okay."

I figure Token has all the necessary ingredients because Clyde's always making tacos. I picked quesadillas because it's literally just cheese and chicken and the tortilla grilled for a few minutes. And even though in my perfect world Craig and I romantically cooked the meal together like a real couple, it was still perfect with him sitting at the table watching me cook. He continued to ask about my childhood which I thought was cute and proved he was as interested in my life as I was his.

"Did you ever dress in her clothes- your mom?"

I nod, "Dress, heels, the whole shebang." I have to cook the chicken first since Token doesn't have any pre-grilled.

"Your parents didn't care?"

"They thought it was cute," I say, while grilling. When he doesn't say anything I ask, "Did you?"

Craig laughs, "I feel like you should already know the answer to that."

"Did you want to?" I rephrase.

Craig hums, "It never crossed my mind." He shrugs, "Probably not. Dressing like a girl isn't my thing."

This time I laugh, "It isn't my thing. I was just comfortable with myself enough as a five year old to do it. I didn't see anything wrong with it. I don't know. I get what you're saying. I was just playing dress up. I dressed as super heroes too and shit."

"Hm," he agrees.

"Did you ever feel like... there were things you wanted to do but didn't because your parents?"

"Yeah," he says, vaguely. "But, I don't know," he says. "I always thought maybe I just hadn't met the right girl. Then I just didn't care because it didn't seem worth it."

"So," I say slyly, glancing over my shoulder. "You admit you're gay?"

Instead of joking with me or even just being apathetic as always Craig seems down about my question. I curse in my head because I should have never asked.

"I'm not... ready to," he says. "Why does it matter if I label it?" he asks. "I'm with you, aren't I? Isn't that enough?"

"Of course," I reply instantly. "I- I didn't mean- I shouldn't have said- I'm- I'm sorry."

"Forget it," he says. I quietly set up the quesadillas before placing them both in the pan. "Your mom was tense when we came in the shop today. Was it because of me?"

I scoff, "They're losing their goddamn minds. First with the boyfriend thing and now they're just purposely trying to piss me off."

"What do you mean?"

"Talking about taking me to the doctors and shit," I rant, flipping a tortilla.

"Why?"

I pause. I never told Craig. I never told anyone. I forget that they all don't just know. I assume since they all think I'm crazy they know about everything... "Tweek."

"I don't know," I mumble.

"Why would she take you to the doctors? Are you okay?"

"To recalibrate my meds," I say quickly. "That's it. I just- I don't even take them. I don't even like my meds and they're always taking blood because I'm vitamin D deficient. It's bullshit."

"Oh," Craig says. He taps the table annoyingly until I sigh and turn around. "What are the meds for?"

I snort, "None of your business, metal mouth."

"Don't make that a thing because if anyone else calls me that I'm gonna bust their fucking face in." I laugh. "And," he says. "I'll tell you what mine are for if you tell me what yours are for." This is an absolutely fair trade, I think. I mean, I don't know if he would have just told me if I asked but I also didn't know for certain that Craig had meds. It was just a conspiracy of mine.

I narrow my eyes at him, "Promise?"

"I'll even go first," he says. "I don't care."

"Oh yeah?" I ask him amused. "Okay," I turn back to the stove. "Go ahead."

"Depression," he says. "Now go," he orders.

He wants me to answer before I can think about what he's said. So I do, "Bipolar disorder."

"Oh," he says.

"Oh," I repeat.

"Do you wanna talk about?"

"Do you?" I counter.

"I don't take my meds either," he tells me.

"Why?" I say. "They don't make you feel better?"

"I'd like to feel better without them," he says. "I don't want to feel like I need a pill to be normal." Exactly. I smile. "And what is that? Mood swings?"

I shrug, "That's part of it. I don't know, Craig. Google it."

"Why can't you tell me?"

"Because I don't want to talk about it," I say, dumping the quesadilla onto a plate.

"Is that why you blacked out and almost killed Cartman?"

"Almost killed? I didn't! Right? I didn't almost kill him! I just punched him a lot... And fuck off. People get mad all the time. You even said you've people in hospitals."

"I'm an angry shit," he says. "And I remember doing it."

"Craig, shut up." I plate the food for both of us. "I said I didn't want to talk about it."

"I don't care that you have a disorder," he says. I just want to know."

"Okay, yeah, it might be but that hasn't really happened before so maybe it might be something else. Maybe it might be something worse. I don't want to go to the doctors though because I feel like I already know the answer," I hand him his plate. He's quiet. "Happy, asshole? Fuck. Metal mouth." I'm trying to make myself feel better because now I'm tense and I don't want to be. Taking it out on Craig is only making it worse though so I shut my mouth and stare out the window.

"It's... clinical depression," he says. "Just to be clear."

"Hm..." I take a bite off my plate, watching the snow fall and counting the specks. I don't want to be crazy but the more I think about the stupid reality and everything that's wrong with me, it makes me want to act crazy just because it triggers my stress. "Isn't that... major?"

He shrugs, "Sometimes. It's a cycle. I have to remember that because it never feels like I've been through it before when I go through it."

"Are you going through it now?"

He shrugs. "I don't wanna talk about it," he mocks.

I sigh and we eat in silence.

"Earlier when Clyde came in the shop he said you had been sad all day."

"Not sad," he cuts me off.

"Okay," I say. "Then what's your version of the story?"

"I haven't been sad. Clyde's just a dumb shit."

"Yeah," I agree. "But he seems to care about you. Doesn't seem like something he'd lie about."

"Well, whatever."

"I get why you'd be sad. I just wanna make sure you're okay."

Craig raises his eyebrows. "You wanna make sure I'm okay?" he repeats with a sarcastic laugh. "Or Clyde wants you to make sure I'm okay."

"Clyde," I admit. "I think you're fine but he doesn't. I just wanna know why he's asking me to take care of you like something's wrong with you."

"Because he's a nosy asshole."

"Really, Craig." I glance up at him. "I thought about it since you guys talk about it so much. I think something happened a long time ago. Was there another guy?"

"I told you. You were my first."

I shrug, "I know I just thought-"

"My first everything, Tweek. You're my first everything. There's no other guy, never was."

"Okay," I blush. "Did you… do something?" Craig doesn't answer. He takes a bite from his plate. "What'd you do? Run away? Did your parents get real mad at you or something? Can I have a hint?"

"Mm... That, I really don't want to talk about."

"How come?"

"Doesn't matter anymore. And bringing it back up might actually make me depressed and everything we've talked about so far is doing just that. You're one of the only things that make me feel okay so don't ruin it."

"What the hell does that mean? What happened?"

"Wow. This quesadilla was better than Clyde's. Wanna watch a movie or something?" Craig stands up and takes his plate to the sink. "I doubt they're coming back tonight so we can do whatever we want."

I snort, "Even masturbate in the living room."

"Wow. Let it go," Craig says, taking my plate too once I stand. "But I mean, technically, yes, we could. We could do a lot of things in a lot of places."

"Even right here," I point out, approaching Craig from behind. "You know," I say. "My mom was so pissed when she saw your hicky. I love it though. It looks like art. I painting something inspired by it."

He shakes his head but I can tell he's smiling, which is weird. He never smiles. I like when he does. "Weirdo."

Craig is rinsing the dishes in the sink. I press my body against his back and rest my head in his shoulder. I like being like this with Craig even though we both at some point probably mocked the couples that acted this affectionate.

I move my hands down his sides lightly and stop at his hips, slowly closing my fingers around him. I let out a heavy sigh. Our talk has emotionally drained me. Craig too, most likely. More than me maybe. I turn my head a little bit so that my nose nuzzles his neck. He smells like smoke. He smells like he's been smoking a fucking lot. Under that, he smells like Craig; testosterone and old cologne.

One of my hand drifts over his hip and up under his shirt. I press him against me more. "You smell like a chimney," I mumble against his skin. "Do your lungs hurt?" I wonder, my hand passing over his chest.

He shifts, "Mmm, yeah, but besides you cigarettes and weed are the only things that make me okay."

"And let me guess," I say. "Out of weed?" He nods. "And what would you do for me if I had some?"

He smirks, "I knew it. What are you waiting for?"

I shrug kissing his neck. "Do we pick the movie before or after we're high?"

"After," he says.

" I already rolled it and everything," I tell him.

"Just one?"

I laugh, "fuck no. I worked really hard today Craig and I only dropped like two glasses and one coffee pot. I have three rolled ones but that's just what I brought."

Craig groans. "I wanna kiss you," he announces. I feel like he means to award me for my good behavior. That being me bringing him weed which I think is funny so I chuckle but he pushes me back so he can turn around to face me and leans up to press his lips on mine. It seems like he meant to stop but he doesn't. Instead, he wraps his arms around my neck to hold himself in place and I lean on my palms against the counter. He plays with the hair at the nape of my neck. I nip at his bottom lip before pulling away.

"Your hair's starting to make you look like a hobo," I tell him. A cute hobo but a hobo nonetheless. It's not as long as mine at all but it's pretty long for him. I wonder if he lets it grow out like this often and just hides it with a hat. It's started to curl at the ends, just barely. If he started growing a beard he'd start to look like a real hipster.

"Oh," he says.

"I brought my sketchbook. Let me draw you later."

"Okay."

Craig and I bring everything to the room we've claimed as our own. I have to stop at first to take off my jeans because Craig's not wearing any and they're uncomfortable. I shoved them under the opening of the door and pull out one of my joints before lighting it and blowing smoke all over the small room. I take another hit and then hand it off to Craig.

He falls back with it in his mouth. He doesn't even bother to remove it, exhaling smoke through his nostrils. Realizing that Craig intended on taking it as his own, I pulled out a second joint and lit it for myself. I stand in front of the window. Outside, it's gotten dark and the snow looks blue from the moon's light.

Craig sighs so I glance at him. His eyes are closed and his shirt's started to ride up. It's enough to where I can see his happy trail get wider and then disappear into his boxers that are low on his hips. I wet my lips and take advantage of his oblivion. The room's already foggy and my eyes are already low. I drag myself over to the bed and drape myself across Craig's abdominal. He doesn't seem to mind. He doesn't even acknowledge me, except for a hand that lazily drops behind my neck to mess with the hair there. It's soothing.

"Tweek," Craig says.

"Mmm?" I reply.

"Let's get wasted."

Hey how are you. I'm swell just returned from a GUNS N ROSES CONCERT WOOO OMFG I LOVE SLASH SO HARD YOU GUYS YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW SOMEONE HELP ME I'M DEAD. Haha, sorry, anyway hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'll be posting part 2 soon and review your thoughts. Love you. bye