I fell. I should be embarrassed and maybe I am under all the stress. I've been considering quitting boxing with Tweek. For a lot of reasons but they all tie together. If I just quit, I wouldn't have to deal with… it anymore.
My worst fear (and you don't need to tell me I'm a shit bag for thinking this. I already know I'm a shit bag.) is that if I quit, the same thing will happen just later on.
But I can't keep pretending like I don't know.
"Get up. I didn't even hit you that hard," Tweek says. "You're not hurt." He doesn't actually know this but he's not wrong. I'm not hurt physically. I'm just a little shook, in my head.
I push myself to my feet slowly, pretty much ignoring him as I walk past. I mumble something like I don't wanna box anymore as I walk off the ring.
When I get to my bag is when Tweek grabs my shoulder and pulls me back, "What the hell is wrong with you?"
I shrug him off roughly when he touches me. I didn't do it on purpose and I'm more embarrassed that I did that than of tripping over my own feet in the ring. Tweek looks a little pissed off but I'm surprised he didn't hit me in the face. "I don't want to box anymore," I repeat.
"Why not? What does that even mean?"
"That I don't want to fucking box anymore," I snap. The whole time we're talking I keep my back to him, throwing things in my bag as if it's more important than the conversation.
But he walks around me to look me in the face. I glare. It's hard. "What's your problem? Lately you've been all... I don't know. I don't really care, I guess but it's affecting your boxing and it's pissing me off."
I glare harder, "I don't feel well," I lie. "Just leave me alone."
Tweek stares at me harder but I look away, annoyed, but really embarrassed. Tweek follows my eyes moving right, standing in front of me, and staring again. I look away, to the left this time.
"Bullshit," he shakes his head.
The way he says it makes my heart race the way it does when your parents call your name and you know you're in trouble. Real trouble. And it's so hard to look at him.
The only response I can think of is glaring harder. "I'm not stupid," he says. I try glaring harder but I bet I really just look scared. Because I am.
I look away, "What are you talking about?" It's so deflective. It's so obviously deflective.
Tweek looks madder, "Don't," he says. "Cut the shit." I'm trembling. "You stare at me all the time-"
"Yeah, well, I need to know where you are to dodge yo-"
"Even at school, even when we're changing, even in the fucking shower. You think I don't see because you think I'm stupid but really you're stupid."
I don't know if it's even worth trying to sell anymore, trying to explain everything without admitting... it. I was never a good liar and Tweek's too intuitive. I should've known he knew. He probably knew the whole time. I really am stupid.
And it's the dumbest shit because I feel like I want to cry. I whip around and shove him with my forearm. "Fuck you." I sneer.
"That's all you can say because you know-"
"Fuck you," I repeat. "You don't know shit."
"I don't care if you do like me, I'll still kick your ass," Tweek promises.
All previous emotion is replaced with rage and a lot of it because it wasn't supposed to be this way and it wasn't even Tweek's fucking business and who is he to make me do anything? Kick my ass? "You couldn't if you tried."
"I just fucking did, dickwad!"
I punch Tweek in the face after that. I punch him hard enough to make him stumble and I take the opportunity to snatch up my things and rush to the locker room.
Tweek busts in a few seconds after me though. "You're a piece of shit!" He accuses. He storms over to me and shoves me, so I shove him harder. For a while we stare at each other breathing heavily. Tweek pushes me into the lockers, I grab his wrist, and then we fight.
That's what's supposed to happen next, right? I'm about to get my ass kicked. Again. I knew this would happen, didn't I? I just couldn't look away.
But then, well, I don't really know what happened. I guess I kissed him or something 'cause we were pressed against the wall kissing. And Tweek was kissing back. And I just thought if he kissed me too, then why did he pretend to be an asshole before? What was he even angry about?
Our kiss was never timid. Tweek kissed me with an open mouth and I pressed my tongue against his. The noises we made were shameless and very new to me. They made me feel like my stomach was on fire. I'd never felt a body so close to mine.
When we finally parted heavy breathing still filled the air, but it was different this time.
After that we showered and changed. I asked Tweek if he wanted a ride and he ignored me.
I was laying in my bed because I woke up at like, six in the morning and couldn't fall back asleep. It's bullshit. Who wants to wake up early on a fucking Saturday? My sleep hasn't been this bad since middle school.
Anyways, I was laying there when something lands on me. It's about six foot three and weighs one hundred eighty pounds. If I weren't on my side, it'd have knocked the air out of me, but since I am, it only startles me. But, fuck, dude.
"Arg, What the fuck," I groan and roll from under the figure. I can't tell if it's Kenny or Clyde. I know it's not Token. He's not into all that touchy-touchy shit. He and I allow Kenny and Clyde to do it but we don't usually reciprocate.
"Morning, Star Shine."
"Get out," I mumble into my pillow. I'm not tired but I'm also not in the mood for Clyde.
More weight is added to the bed and I sigh loudly. "Craigy-can, it's time to get up. We're painting Clyde's room today." Kenny cuddles up behind me, spooning me.
"What?" I glance back at Kenny. He smiles at me. "That's retarded. You're leaving in six months," this time I'm talking to Clyde.
"Well, I still have to live there for those six months, Craig," he tells me. "And, I don't know," he says. "I'm just not green anymore. I'm red and my room should be red like me, right?"
"No," I shut him down. "That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard."
Clyde pouts and I flick him off. "C'mon, Craig, don't be a dick. Help us paint. It's not about the painting it's about bonding."
I laugh at this. "This is you getting free manual labor."
Token is last to enter my room. Undoubtedly talking to my parents because he's that friend. He can talk to anyone about anything and it will be a pleasant conversation; one you walk away from thinking, that's a good kid. But when it comes to parents Token really knows how to charm them.
I sit up. Token says hey and I say hello. He doesn't ask me if I'm coming or anything. He goes into my closet, pulls out some gym shorts and an old t shirt and tosses them on the bed with a, "Hurry and change, we're painting Clyde's room today."
"What the fuck, Token?" I'm surprised Token's 'okay'ed this and seems even motivated.
But then he says, "They dragged me out of bed and if I can't sleep in, neither can you, asshole. So hurry and change. We can get food after."
I don't know why I feel compelled to obey when it's Token giving the commands. I guess I just look up to him. In comparison to me, Token's got all his shit together. He and Wendy are still battling for valedictorian. He could go to any school he wanted and not pay a penny, even though he already could go anywhere even without his grades, because he's rich I mean. He's handsome too. Could probably court most girls, I bet. He just knows what he's doing. He knows what he'll be doing too. That pisses me off. He's painted his picture and I don't even have a canvas yet. But it's admirable. So when he tells me to do things, I'll probably do them.
Five minutes later I'm yawning in Token's backseat. I don't pull my seatbelt over me even though I know how Token is about that stuff. I lean my head back and try to sleep through the ride, which honestly isn't that long. But Kenny keeps tickling my ear with a piece of paper he found and twisted. The ride ends with me trying to shove him out the window and Clyde laughing his ass off.
Painting Clyde's room is more effort than I think any of us thought. It takes roughly two hours and two coats. I'm hot, tired, and starving. Basically, I'm not in a great mood. And I hate Kenny and Clyde.
"You're hickys are fading. That's a shock. What happened?"
"Did you piss off your little mystery girlfriend?"
"Damn," Kenny hisses. "No ass? That sucks."
"Fuck off," I tell them. They remind me of siblings; younger siblings.
"Or maybe she pissed you off," Kenny suggests. I glare at him. "Oh, am I right?"
"No," I say lamely. He's not right but he's close enough to make it sound like I'm lying and he calls it.
"Fucking liar," he accuses with a roaring laugh.
"What happened?" Clyde wonders.
"Why would you think I'd tell you?" I wonder. Then I add, "I'm not mad."
"Then what happen?" Kenny presses.
I groan. "C'mon guys, if he doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't have to."
I scoff, "I wasn't going to." Token gives me a side glance that says I should watch my mouth because he's on my side.
"So was the food a lie? Because that's the only reason I came here."
"Bull, just admit you like us, Craig."
"I tolerate you," I tell him. "Token's cool. You two are nuisances."
"Kenny and I have fun," Clyde says as if to correct me. Which makes me raise my eyebrows at him.
"If fucking with me is your version of fun," I mumble.
"It is fun," Kenny assures me. He pats my shoulder, "But you make it too easy."
"Yeah, we can get food," Toke says, referring to my first question. He rubs his hands off on his jeans, staining them with paint. I wonder how much those pants were.
With that we're back in Token's car debating where to eat. Taco Bell is the first option via Clyde. Toke and Ken complain that we had that last time.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I've reached my taco limit for the month," Kenny says. "Let's get pizza."
Clyde smacks his mouth, "We always get pizza."
"Taco Bell sucks," I say.
"You suck," Clyde counters.
"Whoa!" Kenny cheers. "You really got him, Clyde!" He says sarcastically.
"Shut up, Kenny!"
"No pizza, no tacos, so what are we gonna get?"
"What about subs?" Token suggests.
"I'm down," Kenny says
"Me too," I agree. We all look at Clyde because he's the baby of our friend group and always has to be the difficult one.
"Yeah, whatever," he mumbles.
Kenny snickers at Clyde's child-like attitude. "Does that suit your taste, majesty?"
"Shut up, Kenny!" Clyde repeats and we all laugh. I wonder if Tweek would joke around if he hung out with us. That's all we do. Tweek doesn't seem like the joking type. He also didn't seem like the boxing type or the mean type or the type that I jack off occasionally. It's not like he never has laughed around me or anything. That's the worst part of Tweek: how unpredictable he is.
I'll have a particularly shitty day and go to boxing thinking about how Tweek will drag me, physically and verbally, mind you. But, Tweek will not only not be a dick, he'll almost be nice. Those are the times he jokes around. I've always figured he could tell I was upset and was trying to make me feel better but he was probably actually just trying to not make it worse.
Can I not think about him right now?
We go out for subs and it's okay, I guess. Token can tell something's wrong with me but unlike Clyde and Kenny, he knows if I wanna talk I'll talk. So he doesn't say anything. Clyde and Kenny are too stupid to notice or maybe they do but I doubt they'd be able to keep their mouths shut if they did. Either way, I'm glad nobody brings it up.
"Hey," Clyde says when it's just us walking.
"Yeah."
"I wanna hit the gym later. Join me?"
I half shrug, "Okay."
Later that evening, Token drives me to my house and Clyde gets out with me. We go inside just to change and then we head back out to my truck.
"It's so cool that coach K lets you keep a set of keys," Clyde says, sliding into the passenger seat. He grabs a grey jacket out from under him and tosses it in the backseat.
"I guess." Usually it just stresses me about remembering to lock up which Tweek refuses to take responsibility for.
But, wait. Grey jacket?
It takes me a minute to realize the jacket's Tweek because I had already forgotten I took him home. It's no big deal. Tweek lives like a neighborhood down from me so I can just give it back to him on my way home. Then why do I have so much anxiety about it?
When we get to the gym I hand Clyde the keys and tell him I'll be there in a minute.
He narrows his eyes at me. "Whatever, bro. But if you're trying to prank me or something, I'm already aware so it won't work," he says before exiting and apprehensively making his way to the gym.
I grab the jacket. I don't know what I'm doing. I know it's embarrassing and I shouldn't but no one would know except for me and I already know how lame I am. I glance over my shoulder. Clyde's opening the door. I shove my face in the jacket.
It smells like Tweek. My face heats up. What the hell am I doing? I toss it back onto the floor in my back seat and run my hand down my face. What am I doing?
I shut the door. Fuck. What am I doing?
Fuck.
