Although I don't hate work, it's not my favorite place to be. Since I'm still in high school I can only get part-time jobs and that usually means customer service of some degree.
I'm not much of a people person.
My manager gets a lot of complaints, mostly because I just don't naturally smile or say my pleasure. But luckily my manager isn't a prick. She knows I'm a good worker just my face and mouth don't work.
Another unfortunate aspect of my work is that I work with that Marsh kid. It's bad enough that I have to go to school with him and have assholes tell me how much he looks like me. He and his asshole friends disgust me. They're toxic and everybody knows it. Even Kenny knew he had to get the hell out of there. Don't ask me how he found refuge with us. It probably had something to do with Clyde but honestly Kenny hangs out with everyone already, he just started to hang out with us more.
At least I don't work in the food industry because that would be a disaster. I can barely handle simply checking people out. If I had to have people tell me what they want but don't want on it or what they want to add or they can't eat salt because they have some dumb diet or health- it's just too much. I didn't want a job in the first place. High school is enough by itself. But I needed a job to get a car and I had to keep it to pay for gas, plus the extra cash isn't bad. Still, it's one of those things that makes me feel like I'm doing stuff I think I need to do because everyone else is.
I don't think I'm going to box with Tweek today but I feel like I need to go just because of what happened yesterday. If I don't show up today he'll think I'm avoiding him or something. Would Tweek even care if I avoided him? I wanna say I doubt it but I know he wouldn't. Tweek probably (somehow) cares about less things than I do and I don't even know what it would be. Boxing, I guess. He seems to really like boxing but I'm only assuming because he goes every day, not because he looks like he's having fun because he almost always just looks indifferent, tired sometimes, and angry other times. But never really happy.
"What's up," Stan walks around the counter. He's always late but once again, our manager isn't a prick. Sometimes I wish she were. I unintentionally narrow my eyes at the dark haired boy. He says, "Did you see the game last night? Great comeback. Cartman has a wicked throw, have you seen it?" Stan chuckles, oblivious to my glare.
"Shut the fuck up, Marsh."
He turns to look at me finally and furrows his brows, displeased. "Oh jeez, you're in a mood." He turns back to the register. "Fine," he says as a customer approaches him. "Hi, will that be all?"
I glare at his back some more before deciding I should just take out the trash and stock the shelfs to avoid fighting Stan. I know he hasn't done anything really but his presence just pisses me off. The way he says things, the way his pinches his nose like he's somebody's dad, and especially when he talks about sports. He just sounds like a douchebag.
So I stock and debate going later or not going later and I'm split down the middle. Because I know if I don't, Tweek (even if he doesn't care) will think it has something to do with me being a little bitch yesterday but if I don't then I can go home with Token, Clyde, and Kenny and I haven't done that in a while and it would be refreshing, I think.
Then I realize, going to box tonight would most likely lead to Tweek and I on top of one another, apparently whether I want it to or not. And then I realize that might be the reason I'm so opposed going. But I don't know why that would make me not wanna go, sometimes that's the only reason I go. There's too much happening in my head right now for me to think.
I stock as much as I can onto the shelf just so I can be over here longer but at some point it's gonna become obvious what I'm doing so I take the trash out back. Not many people come in today and those who do, prefer Stan (I'm so underwhelmingly surprised by this).
And at some point maybe half an hour before my shift ends, I sigh particularly loud. Stan turns to me but I ignore him, hoping this will stop him from saying whatever he's gonna say. It doesn't.
"What's up with you today? You're acting like a bitch."
My eyes drag over to him, "We aren't friends, Stan."
"Far from it," he adds. "I don't have to be your friend to ask you what's wrong. I mean you've been dragging your feet and sighing all day. It's really annoying." I flip him off. He rolls his eyes. "Seriously," he says.
"Tests. I'm stressed."
He mouth slants, "It doesn't sound like it's just tests."
"What?" Stan just called me out on a lie. Stan fucking Marsh. What do I look like right now? I didn't say it weird or make a face. So how the fuck did he know?
"Yeah," Stan says. "You look more like you're thinking about one you like but can't tell anyone about."
I stare at Stan deadpan. I don't speak because none of this makes sense and I'm trying to evaluate whether or not this is real. Because if it were, how the fuck would Marsh know that much? But then, maybe he doesn't. So I just repeat, "What."
Stan laughs, "I'm just fucking with you. Kenny told me." I suddenly feel stupid for giving Stan so much credit. "That's great though for you," he says. "I never thought you'd find someone who actually liked you so congratulations."
I want to punch Stan (I typically do) but I want to punch Kenny more. I guess it's nothing Stan couldn't have found out himself. Still, having someone I barely speak to come up to me with that information has me shaken. It just seems like more and more people are finding out more and more about more and more and that isn't sitting well. It's giving me anxiety. I've never felt so much anxiety. At least not since... before, when I wanted to kiss Tweek. Things sucked back then. I briefly have a thought that things suck right now too but they're better. I think.
"Dude, I'm just kidding, no need to go all emo."
"Fuck you, Stan. Stop talking to me."
"What the fuck. Why do you hate me so much?"
"Why do you want me to not hate you so much?" I counter, lazily.
Stan stutters and then decides, "Fine, asshole, like I care. I hope she dumps your lame ass."
I flick Stan off even though I hardly heard what he said but I'm glad he's laying off. Whether or not everyone around me is joking about caring who my secret lover is, it's making me feel so shitty. I wish they'd stop bringing it up at all. I know they do it because I won't tell them but I can't.
I can't.
And that's as far as I let my mind get. This is making me... I don't know. Am I upset? I guess I'm troubled. But not necessarily unhappy. The next and last thing I say to Stan is that I'm clocking out soon and that I'll see him around. I head over to Token's after work because the whole time I knew I wasn't going to box with Tweek.
I realize it's been a while since I've walked into Token's house unannounced or at all really. I talk to his dad in the kitchen for a while. About the basic stuff, you know, school, grades, work, graduation. He asks me about college, I lie so he'll leave me alone. He asks me how my dad is doing but he knows my dad so we don't talk about that long. I make sure to say hello to Token's mother while passing her office but our exchange is brief.
When I finally reach Token's room Kenny and Clyde are sprawled out on the bed across each other and Token is sitting at his desk probably doing his homework or something equally as stupid. It's stupid because I still haven't done homework from last week.
"Told you," Kenny says. "You owe me ten bucks."
Clyde scoffs, "I knew it was Craig, bro. It was obvious. Who else would it fucking be?"
"Hey, Craig," Token greets.
I shut the door behind me and set down my bag. I flop down on top of Clyde, collectively crushing Kenny. He doesn't protest, simply grunts. "Hey."
"What? No boxing? Is a Tweek sick or something?" Clyde says glancing back at me.
"No," I shrug. "I didn't want to go."
Clyde gasps and Kenny laughs, shaking all of us. "You didn't want to box? Are you sick?"
"Wow," I deadpan. "I came here to hang out with my friends- well," I pause, "-alleged friends. And instead of being happy to see me they think something's wrong with me for wanting to hang out with them."
"Please," Token says. I chuckle.
"Seriously," I say. "I just didn't feel like going. I always go. I deserve a break," I reason. I'm lying again. And it doesn't feel good. And I'm good at it too, not even Kenny catches it (if he did, he doesn't say anything) and that feels worse.
"It's been a while since we all hung out," Clyde says.
"You guys are crushing me," Kenny says.
"Yeah, I know," I say. "I didn't realize until I saw Toke's parents. I haven't seen them in like a month."
"Are you staying the night?"
"Yeah," I say.
"Gettin' harder to breathe down here."
"How was work?" Toke asks.
"Lame," I roll my eyes. "Marsh pisses me off."
"Why? What'd he do?" Clyde says.
"He came to work today."
Clyde snorts. Kenny says, "Hey, assholes!"
"I don't know. I think Stan's alright." Clyde says.
"And Kenny, if you keep running your mouth about my life to that idiot, I'm gonna punch you into a wall."
"What did I tell him?" Kenny says. "And get the fuck off me."
"You fucking told him about-" my heart skips. "About... "
"About..." Kenny echoes.
"About..." Clyde drags out.
"My hickeys," I say simply.
"Mm," Kenny hums. "Did something almost slip there, buddy?"
"Shut up, Kenny. Just don't talk about me to anyone else at all."
"Fine, he says. I won't if you get the fuck off of me," I roll so I'm only on top of his legs. "Clyde," he says.
"Yes," Clyde replies.
"Move, thanks."
"Hm, no thanks," Clyde replies. Kenny grabs Clyde and they start wrestling. They also start laughing. Kenny kicks me. I know it was an accident but I still grab his ankle and drag him across the bed. Clyde and I double team him until I'm holding him down and Clyde's giving him an Indian burn. He's laughing too hard to fight us.
We play video games for a while before changing the TV to cable and hanging out on our phones. We talk a lot. More than we have in ages. It feels good to hear Kenny rave about the girls in our grade and Clyde about how everyone on the team thinks he's the worst and Token rants about his parents and school. I don't talk much. I try to. I talk about stupid stuff. Boring stuff. Fillers? What am I filling in for?
We eat dinner with Token's parents and that's nice. His parents are my favorite parents in South Park. No offense to my own. They're cool too. But his parents are the kind of parents I wish I had. They're just so... normal and rational, I don't know.
That night after everyone falls asleep I'm still awake. I can't stop thinking about Tweek alone in the gym. He probably worked out for a while. Then, he must've hit with the bag because I never showed up. I wonder if he waited for me, even subconsciously. Even for a minute. Why wouldn't he expect me to come? Why would he care if I didn't?
Sleep evades me.
"You sucked today," Tweek says, chugging from his water bottle. When he's done he drags the back of his forearm across his mouth. "Were you even trying?"
Yes. But I don't say anything.
"You weren't even remotely focused." I grab my water but I just stare at it. "I hit you in the face at least five times, Craig." He says this like it's bad but I think he's actually bragging which makes my stomach do that stupid thing that gives me anxiety. It's been doing that a lot lately. "Sometimes you weren't even looking."
I sit on the bench. Tweek just watches me. "Are you sick?"
I wish I were just sick.
"C'mon, man, I was joking. You're not that bad."
Why won't he shut up?
"If you're gonna throw up, do it in the trash can."
Why can't I say anything? I do feel sick.
Tweek says something else but I don't hear him. I stand up again. "I'm fine," I tell him.
"You're being weird," he says, holding his water close to himself. He looks at me like I could be hiding a bomb.
"I... feel weird," I admit.
I already knew Tweek wouldn't respond to this because it's something that he'd have nothing to say about. He's not gonna ask me why or what I mean because he doesn't care and he doesn't care to pretend either.
"Okay," he says instead and grabs his duffel bag from the bench. I can tell Tweek doesn't want to just walk away until he knows I'll be behind him but I don't know why. I follow him slowly and I don't let myself look at him.
I don't feel good today.
We go to our lockers and undress and I would try to take my time as to put distance between us but Tweek's pace changed with mine. So we walk to the shower together. We're both still in boxers. Usually Tweek walks in his boxers and I change to my towel once he's turned around.
We get in. Tweek takes his boxers off. I try to preoccupy myself by turning the shower on and dousing my head with shampoo. It's so much that the suds spill over onto my face and into my eyes. I take a small deep breath.
I have bruises on my chest from his fists and probably on my face too. It's like I wasn't even there. They sting. It's hard to look at him when we practice lately. I just can't take his eyes. I look away and I get hit.
Once I've rinsed my eyes under the water enough I open them. I glance to Tweek just as I told myself not to and immediately notice the knob on his shower is set in the blue. It's not even half way, it's just blue. When I look at Tweek again, he's looking at me. I pretend to not be surprised and in three seconds my brain realizes I need to say something that would indirectly explain why I was looking at him. "Why is you're shower on cold?"
He makes a face at me. "Fix your fucking tone, and it's none of your fucking business what my preferences are."
I clench my jaw an turn back to the wall. Tweek can be such an ass wipe. We shower silently for a minute. Then, so suddenly that it startled me, Tweek says, "I like them and they're good for you."
I snort.
Tweek glares at me. "They are," he says. "They're good for your skin, immune system, metabolism, and relieves stress. They help sore muscles and shit too."
I almost laugh and Tweek glares harder. "What?" He says.
"That's bullshit," I chuckle. "But it's-" I abruptly stop but then quickly say, "funny you think that." I breathe quietly. My head kinda hurts. I almost called him cute. Why am I trying to flirt? Why do I feel like he might be flirting with me? It's not what he says, it's how he says it and those fucking eyes.
Tweek's arm shoots over the wall between us and yanks my shower to cold. "Motherfucker," I swear as cold water hits my body. "Fuck, Tweek," I try to pull it back to warm but he doesn't let go and Tweek's stronger than I am. The longer we both struggle the more flustered I get about the fact that we're both naked and our hands are touching.
But Tweek is just laughing and laughing. He has to hold the wall to keep himself up. His laugh is so loud it echoes in the small tiled room. It makes my stomach give me anxiety again and now I feel like I'm suffocating. I let go and just let the water change to ice cold.
"It is kind of refreshing," I confess once Tweek's settled down a bit. He laughs a little more and tells me he hates me with a smile still on his face. I stare at him too long and he catches me.
"What?" He says. I shake my head and grab my towel.
Together we dry off and together we get dressed. I don't dare look at Tweek while he's changes into his clothes and I can't tell if it's for me or him.
It's the weirdest thing though because Tweek is never usually this nice. Most of the time he doesn't really say anything but today was different. He was different. Was he trying to make me feel better? My stomach gives me anxiety.
Before Tweek leaves he says goodbye and that's something he's never done before. I asked him if he wanted a ride and he said he was fine and I thought that was good because I actually didn't want to give him a ride this time. The more I want to be around Tweek, the less I wanna be around him. Does that make any sense?
This would be so much easier if he were a girl.
