A/N:
Oh, heeeeeeyyy. I'm so sorry for the length of time between updates on this. If you're still here reading, thank you and I love you. If you're just finding this story for the first time, hi, and I love you, too! And if I lost you, I miss you, and I hope I'll see you again someday.
Tweek actually stumbles at the question, Cartman's belligerent, sneering tone almost physically forcing him backwards. He shoots one arm out, grabbing onto one of the stall doors to keep himself from falling. That's the last thing he needs right now, to fall and show any kind of weakness in front of the most dangerous predator in school. His heart racing, Tweek barely registers Kenny moving forward to stand beside him; his eyes are glued to the piece of paper Cartman is clutching in his hand, the piece of paper that is supposed to be safely tucked away in Tweek's pocket.
"You good?" Kenny's narrowed eyes are on Cartman, his arms crossed over his chest; but his question is directed at Tweek, who can only nod in response, too preoccupied with the list in Cartman's hand to speak.
"Aww, now isn't that sweet." Cartman shakes his head, a sarcastic smirk stretching across his massive jaw as he casts his gaze first over Kenny, then Tweek. "The spaz and the pauper. Quick, someone call Disney."
"The fuck do you want?"
There's an edge to Kenny's voice that Tweek can't remember ever hearing before, and he shivers involuntarily.
Cartman holds out both his arms and looks around, his smirk morphing into an expression of complete innocence that only someone who didn't know him would fall for. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but the last time I checked, this was a bathroom." He shrugs, letting his arms drop back down to his sides. "I think that says it all, don't you think? Of course, if you need more of an explanation, I'd be happy to show you–"
"You know what I mean, asshole." Kenny's jaw clenches and he takes half a step forward just as Tweek inches backwards a little bit. "Of all the bathrooms in the school, why this one? Everyone knows you never come in here because 'Tophe would kick your ass if you did."
Rolling his eyes, Cartman lets out a scornful laugh. "Please, I'm not afraid of that British piece of shit."
"Yeah?" There's a low growly quality to Kenny's voice now and he leans forward slightly, his demeanor somehow making him appear to be at least a foot taller than he is. "Are you afraid of me?"
A trace of doubt flashes in Cartman's eyes for just a second, but he recovers quickly. Mirroring Kenny, he folds his own arms across his body and puffs out his chest in an attempt to look threatening. "Right, because you're so intimidating."
"You know I can be," Kenny says, his flat expression unchanging, his words bringing with them a thick blanket of tension that envelops the room in seconds.
Something else flickers in Cartman's eyes that Tweek can't identify. For at least a full minute, the two former friends just stand in place, eyes locked, daring the other one to back down first. Tweek watches as Cartman's fist clenches tighter around the sheet of paper he's holding and all he wants to do is snatch it right out of Cartman's hand and pretend he'd never lost the thing in the first place. Cartman could go around and tell everyone about it all he wanted, but without proof, nobody would believe him.
There are a few flaws with that whole idea though: first, Tweek is exhausted from not sleeping all night. Even if he was able to grab the list, he knows Cartman would immediately try to get it back, and he's got at least a hundred and fifty pounds on Tweek; which means that to even have a hope of holding onto it, Tweek would need to have the energy to fight back or run, and he just isn't sure he does right now.
Second, say he got it back and managed to force himself to run – where would he go? He couldn't go home, because he's supposed to be at school; but he couldn't stay at school, because according to their records, he's out sick today. Maybe he could hide out in the nurse's office with Craig, but then when he woke up Tweek would have to explain everything to him and in that kind of situation, especially considering his current state of mind, he knows he would just make everything worse.
Third, and probably most importantly, other people at school have already seen the list. It's already out there. There's nothing Tweek can do that will change that, short of turning back time, and he'd learned his lesson about messing with mystical forces a long time ago.
So instead of reaching out to attempt to reclaim the piece of notebook paper that's turned his whole world upside-down, Tweek shrinks back a little further. He's trying to slowly make his way back across the room to where his backpack, thermos, and cell phone are; if he texts Clyde or Token, maybe they can come up here and help somehow, before anything escalates and Kenny ends up dead on the bathroom floor. Tweek's witnessed too many Kenny deaths in his lifetime, and even though he knows that they never last long, he has no desire to be present for another one.
Especially since Kenny wouldn't even be in this bathroom right if it weren't for him. Tweek's already ruined Craig's life. He doesn't need to have a murder on his conscience too. He takes another step back, barely holding back a startled squeak as he hits the wall. Keeping his hands at his sides, he silently slides his body across the wall, tearing his eyes from the confrontation in front of him to focus on his phone lying on the floor.
"Pssht." Cartman is the first to back down, rolling his eyes and straightening up. "Whatever, Kinny. You shouldn't go around threatening people like that. It could really get you in trouble someday." He gestures to Tweek. "More trouble than you're already in having that thing for a boyfriend, anyway."
Tweek's head snaps up, and he freezes, his fingers centimeters away from touching his phone. He wants to protest, to deny that he and Kenny are anything even remotely close to dating, because that's not a rumour he needs getting spread around the school, but panic causes the words to get stuck in his throat. God, if Craig heard something like that… Even if Kenny is wrong, and Craig doesn't like Tweek the same way he likes him, Tweek could never do that to him. To have that be the way that his best friend finds out he's gay?
Everyone thinks Craig is just some judgemental apathetic asshole. Ever since Tweek can remember, after everything that happened after The Fight, he's had people come up to him asking how he can stand to be friends with "someone like Craig". The first few times were almost surreal to him, because from Tweek's perspective, the question should have been how Craig could stand being friends with someone like him. He was the twitchy, jumpy, crazy, absolute mess of an addict, while Craig was just naturally more quiet, and there was nothing wrong with being quiet. Tweek doesn't think so, anyway; there are times where he actually envies Craig's personality.
But over the years, it kept happening. Sometimes in the cafeteria, in line for the day's plate of poison not-so-cleverly disguising itself as lunch, Stan or Kyle or one of the girls would ambush Tweek with an interrogation. "No, seriously," they would say, almost whispering, looking at Tweek with big, concerned eyes, "are you sure you're really friends?" They'd say things like Craig was the biggest douchebag in their grade, he was always so rude to everyone, there was a good chance he was just fucking with Tweek and one day he was going to turn around and drop him as a friend with no explanation.
It was no wonder that Tweek had been uncertain about the validity of their best friendship for so long, having been subjected to that day in and day out for years. It wasn't quite that he believed what those other kids were saying to him, not really; but their words were always eerily similar to his own paranoid thoughts and so it was easy for him to fall back into his own pit of extreme self-doubt.
The thing was, though, the more time he spent with Craig, and Clyde and Token, the easier it was to believe it was all real. They were nice to him, genuinely nice, even Craig. Especially Craig, a lot of the time, so even though Tweek didn't understand it, necessarily, he could believe it. Sometimes, in middle school, he would have an emotional crisis at four in the morning, but even in the dead of night like that, if he texted Craig about it, he would always get an answer in less than ten minutes. Sometimes it would be a picture of Stripe, sometimes it would be a response along the lines of, "You're good, just breathe." But he would always get an answer.
In tenth grade they'd come up with an emoji system to make things even easier, although by that point Tweek's anxiety was less about the idea that Craig might just up and ditch for no reason and had more to do with his worry that one day Craig would find out about his feelings, and that would be the catalyst for the breakdown of their friendship.
Everyone in the entire world, or, Tweek is pretty sure, at least the entire town of South Park, knows all about how extreme his anxiety is. He's had panic attacks all over the place, from Stark's Pond to the Canadian border entrance and everywhere in between. What nobody seems to know, though, is that Craig has anxiety too.
It's not like Tweek's, at least nothing has been officially diagnosed; it's not something he has to take medication for or anything. But Tweek's been living with anxiety all his life and by this point he can recognize it anywhere. They've never really talked to each other about it, but one, Tweek hangs out with Craig nearly every day; and two, he knows the signs.
Craig isn't as tough and stoic on the inside as everyone thinks he is because of what he shows on the outside. Craig worries about a lot of things – though, of course, not as much as Tweek does. Craig is also extremely sensitive, and despite the fact that his natural facial expression is one of blank indifference, he feels emotions almost at Clyde-level, he's just much better than Tweek at keeping himself calm. And for those times where he can't manage to hold that control over himself, it doesn't matter if he's disappointed, sad, or anything else like that; when Craig is overwhelmed with negative emotion, it's almost always channeled into anger. Which is why, Tweek had learned, Craig had gotten into so many fights when they were kids.
He'd made himself a promise at one point, one frigid December day in sixth grade, walking home from school beside a limping Craig who had punched Cartman in the eye for saying his hair looked like he showered in bacon grease. Tweek had promised himself that he would never cause Craig to feel those kinds of negative feelings. That he would only ever be the best friend he could be and do everything he could to make Craig's life better, and not worse.
But if Craig were to think that Tweek didn't trust him enough to tell him that he was gay… If he heard from Cartman, of all people, that Tweek and Kenny were actually dating for real and that Tweek hadn't told him, he would be hurt. It's exactly why Tweek had been hesitant to go along with the fake flirting the night before, and why he feels so guilty about it now it almost makes him physically sick. It's exactly why he'd vetoed Kenny's suggestion that they actually pretend to be dating just to get a reaction out of Craig. It would hurt him.
He probably has hurt him already. Oh, God. Tweek squeezes his eyes shut and teeters back and forth unsteadily for a moment before losing his balance and falling forward onto his knees. What had he been thinking yesterday? Why had he gone along with the flirting? Why had he even told Kenny his secret in the first place? He'd been doing just fine existing the way he had been, being Craig's best friend and nothing more than that, but he had to go and listen to what was literally the worst idea in all of history during a moment of hopeful weakness and now he's stuck in this insane mess of a situation and Cartman has the list and Kenny's probably going to die in front of him and if he doesn't already by now, Craig's going to hate him by the end of the day and can everything just stop for two seconds–
"There's nothing wrong with Tweek, asshole." Kenny practically spits the words, his tone dripping with venom. "And I think by now you know that they're not just threats."
Tweek's hand closes around his cell phone and he pulls his hand back, holding the device close to his chest. As nice as it is to hear Kenny defend him like that, he can't help but feel a sinking feeling in his stomach at the fact that what Kenny hadn't done was deny the accusation. "We're not–" he tries, but his voice is much too quiet and Cartman has already started talking again.
"Jesus Christ, all right, you don't have to rip my goddamn head off just because Percy the Possum ate all your fuckin' Pop-Tarts again, Christ." Cartman shakes his head, backing up a couple of steps towards the door. His next words are absolutely coated in sickeningly sweet sarcasm, "I'm so sorry to have disturbed your morning makeout session with Squeak over there. Pardon me while I ever so graciously leave you to it." He continues backing up, pushing the door open with one hand behind him. Just before he turns to waddle out of sight, he sneers in Tweek's direction one last time, and holds up his fist that is clutching the list. "Number ten going after number eight? That's ambitious of you, Squeak. Too bad you'll never be good enough for number one."
Tweek can only stare, silent, as Cartman finally leaves the bathroom. He sees the door fall closed after him, and vaguely registers Kenny in his peripheral vision as the other blonde comes over to sit on the floor next to him, but he doesn't hear anything except the thoughts racing through his head. He'll never be good enough. He's never been good enough. He's ruined the best friendship he's ever had in his life, Cartman has the list and he's going to do God knows what with it, and he's going to tell everyone that Tweek and Kenny are dating and there's no way Craig will ever let him explain that that's wrong, because he's never going to talk to Tweek again. Tweek's going to have nothing. Because he's useless. He's stupid, and useless, and he ruined Craig's life, and he ruined his own life, and he's going to lose everything and everyone he ever cared about, and it's entirely his own stupid fault.
Hands shaking, Tweek's grip on his phone tightens as the inside of his stomach does the same thing, and suddenly he shoves past Kenny, half-crawling across the bathroom floor towards one of the stalls. He barely makes it there in time before he throws up all the coffee he's ingested since he woke up that morning. He slumps against the wall of the stall and blinks the tears from his eyes, sending them streaming down his face.
"Shit," Kenny says from behind him. He places a hand on Tweek's shoulder, and Tweek doesn't even flinch. "Okay, I think we need to get you out of here. Come on, we can go to my place."
By the time Tweek has managed to pull himself to his feet, Kenny's grabbed all of their things. Tweek slowly follows him out of the bathroom, staring down at his feet the entire time. Sure, he might as well go to Kenny's. Everyone's going to think they're dating anyway. Craig's going to think they're dating.
I'm sorry, he thinks to himself with a sniffle, just in case by some miracle he can transmit his thoughts to Craig's brain. I should have told you. But now it's too late.
Craig gingerly takes the ice pack away from his eye and carefully uses the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe the dripping water from his face. Technically it's one of those plastic gel packs that the high school keeps in a tiny freezer in the nurse's office, and not a real ice pack, which is even worse, in Craig's opinion. God, he fucking hates the gel packs so much. He can't stand the feeling of pressing something freezing cold against his skin, only to have it warm up in what feels like no time at all thanks to his body heat, turning it into a floppy, drippy disgusting mess before it's even had time to do what it's supposed to do.
In this case, the gel pack from hell is currently supposed to be combating the swelling and bruising Craig's left eye is currently being subjected to; but all it's really doing is absorbing the heat from Craig's body and sending it right back at him in some kind of fiery loop, making him feel more like he's just run a marathon in 120 degree heat than actually preventing a black eye.
He looks down at the gel pack in his hand with his good eye, squinting a little bit as he tries to read the word printed on the plastic. Who the fuck decided it was a good idea to use light blue font on white plastic? He doesn't particularly care about what the words say, but he needs to do something to pass the time and there aren't a whole lot of ways to keep oneself occupied while sitting in the principal's office. He'd check his phone if he could, but he'd completely spaced on charging it last night at Token's house, so by the time he'd woken up this afternoon it had been completely dead.
Just like he wishes that asshole Stan fucking Marsh was right about now. Craig rolls his eyes as well as he can given his current circumstances and drops the gel pack onto the small table beside the chair he's sitting in. This is all his fault. Never mind that Craig is the one who had thrown the first punch. He's sure that Clyde and Token will back him up when he says that Stan had started it, accosting him in the fucking hallway like that all because he had once again convinced himself that he was right about something he knew absolutely fuck-all about.
Even Kyle had seemed completely over Stan's drama queen tendencies, although to be honest, that only surprised Craig a very small amount. Kyle and Stan had been best friends for so long, they were bound to stop being close eventually, nobody could be friends with either of those self-righteous idiots for that long and not get sick of their shit. The surprising part, to Craig, is that they'd made it as long as they had. They were both just so goddamn irritating, walking around calling themselves Super Best Friends like they had any idea what a real best friend was.
Craig knows what a real best friend is. His indifferent expression falters for a moment and he takes a quick glance around the office, wondering, for about the ten thousandth time since he'd woken up this afternoon where Tweek is. It's not like him to disappear like this, without telling anybody, and it's especially not like him to disappear with Kenny fucking McCormick. Punching Stan in his stupid face had gone a long way towards draining all of Craig's earlier anger towards Kenny, but that in no way meant he felt no anger at all. He was still feeling entirely too many emotions, all of them torpedoing through his mind at fucking light speed, but at least now he could hold himself together a little bit better and try to force himself to think properly without pacing around and uncontrollably, accidentally yelling at everyone.
The list has to have something to do with it. Craig can't explain why he's so sure of that, or why the list getting out would make Tweek of all people freak out enough to go MIA, since it directly affects Craig more than anyone else, but he's positive that it's the reason. Cartman getting his hands on the list is the only new thing to have happened between last night and today, so really, what other reason is there? Had Cartman said something to him? God help that fucking fatass if he'd told Tweek anything. Although, Craig is still fairly certain that it was Kenny who had given it to Cartman in the first place, which means there's a good chance that if anyone had said anything to Tweek it would have been him. But what? And why?
He feels a stinging sensation in his eyes and he blinks, for a second wondering if maybe Stan actually managed to hit him hard enough to cause permanent damage. But then he feels a few tears start to roll down his cheek. Shit. Craig lifts his hand to wipe them away, more roughly than he means to, and he winces at the dull pain that shoots through the left side of his face; but it's nothing compared to the pain he feels inside as he imagines Tweek with Kenny at Raisins again.
Why Kenny? Of all the people in the world that Tweek could have chosen to act like that with, why Kenny? Craig doesn't understand, no matter how many times he tries to figure it out. Does Kenny have something on him? Is he blackmailing Tweek? He wouldn't put it past that asshole to pull something like that, to use the list as leverage to get something he wanted out of Tweek. Clyde claims that Kenny is a good person, but Craig has never believed that in his life.
Craig shifts uncomfortably in his chair, kicking against the flimsy plastic legs of it with the heels of his feet, in rhythm with the click-clack of the keyboard as the receptionist types away at the desk in front of him. He knows exactly what's going to happen when it's his turn to talk to the principal, and just wants to hurry up and get the fuck out of here. He's been through this routine before: get in a fight, get thrown in detention, lather, rinse, repeat – minus the lather, of course, because this isn't a fucking shampoo commercial. Hell, Craig could probably go through the principal's whole spiel himself and save everyone some time. "Why were you fighting?" "He was being an asshole." "You know there's a no-tolerance policy about fighting in this school, Craig." "I know." "You're going to have a month's worth of Saturday detention." "Whatever." Every. Single. Time.
The door to the principal's office opens and Craig's turns to see Stan in the doorway, somehow managing to display both anger and worry in one expression through the considerable amount of bruising on his face. Craig smirks slightly at the damage, just for a second, but then Stan opens his dumbass mouth.
"He wants to see us both," he says, his tone flat and almost as completely devoid of emotion as Craig's usually is. Without waiting for an answer, Stan disappears back inside the room.
Craig frowns. This is new. Shrugging, he stands up and heads inside the office, leaving his useless hot plastic gel pack in a puddle on the side table.
Inside PC Principal's office are the same cheap plastic chairs as outside in the main office, and Craig somehow resists the urge to roll his eyes again, not all that keen on the idea of causing himself any more pain. Not that he'd admit out loud to Stan's punch actually hurting him, of course. He takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of the PC Principal's desk and stares down at the floor, his arms crossed.
"All right, listen up," PC Principal says once Stan has closed the door and sat down in the other chair. "After talking with Stan here, Craig, it's come to my attention that there's some issues we need to discuss."
Craig doesn't say anything. His eyes are on a small button that's lying on the carpet, right next to the desk. It's small, and silver, and reminds him of the buttons on Tweek's old green shirt from when they were kids, the one he could never manage to button correctly to save his life. Not even bothering to conceal the fact that he's not really listening to whatever PC Principal is saying, Craig leans forward and scoops the button off of the floor in one smooth motion, definitely not nearly slipping right off the chair as he does so. When he straightens up again, he instinctively glances around the room, a habit leftover from his middle school, ultra covert, texting-under-the-desk days; he catches Stan's eye for a moment and scowls at the knowing look he gets in response, discreetly flipping him off with his free hand. Stan doesn't know shit and he can fuck right off.
"...and while I obviously have zero issues regarding sexuality in any way, as you know, the fact of the matter is that you can't just be going around engaging in physical violence, Craig. Nobody's going to judge you for being gay, but you have to understand that you can't use your sexual orientation as a reason to–"
What.
The fuck?
"What the fuck?" Craig whips his head up, his eyes widening involuntarily and causing his swollen eye to send another wave of pain radiating through his face. "Fucking Goddammit," he hisses, wincing and bringing his hand up to his eye like that will contain the pain. He's honestly not sure how he's even able to register the pain, given the way his brain is currently malfunctioning. There's no way PC Principal had just said what Craig thinks he said.
"I respect your right to free speech, but I'm going to ask you to refrain from cursing inside this office as it makes me uncomfortable in this situation." PC Principal says, pushing his sunglasses further up his nose with two fingers. "Now as I was saying, you can't use your sexual orientation as an excuse to punch people like young Stanley here in the face on school grounds, all right?"
Okay, so he had said what Craig had thought he said. Shit. Shit. This is bad, like apocalypse-level bad. This is the worst thing that could have ever happened to him. For a moment, time slows down. The world seems to spin around Craig and he plants both feet on the floor in an attempt to ground himself so he doesn't go spinning along with everything else. He begins rocking back and forth in his chair a little bit without even realizing he's doing it. His palms are already sweaty, he can somehow feel his heart beating in every part of his body and he fights to urge to puke for the third time that day.
He tightens his fist around the button he's picked up from the carpet and sucks in a lungful of air, but it doesn't feel like enough, so he does it again, and then a third time in quick succession; he vaguely realizes that he's well on his way to hyperventilating, and that's not what he wants to do, but he can't for the life of him remember how to breathe properly. Fuck. This is a panic attack. Well, no shit it's a panic attack, a completely warranted panic attack under the circumstances. He can't be having a panic attack, not here, not in front of people, not in front of Stan fucking asshole douchebag Marsh for fuck's sake.
How is he supposed to stop this? What does Tweek do? He has something he does, that calms him down, a therapy thing, Craig has walked him through it a whole bunch of times before, what the fuck is it? Coffee. That's it. It's always about coffee. Inhale, exhale, focus on the imaginary coffee, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale–
"Craig?" PC Principal repeats, tapping his fingers on his desk. "All right?"
"I'm not gay!" Craig manages to blurt out the lie, his voice breathless, and higher than normal, almost squeaky.
"I don't care about that, all right?" PC Principal interjects. "I'm not here to make judgements about your feelings for other students–"
Craig ignores him, instead rounding on Stan, who's sitting there in his plastic chair with a smirk on his bruised face and Craig just knows he did something. "What the fuck did you say about me?"
"What?" Stan shrugs. "He asked why you hit me and I told him it was because I told you Tweek went off with Kenny. I didn't lie. It's not my fault you're jealous, Tucker."
"What the actual fuck is your problem?" Craig's practically screeching now, the sound coming out of his mouth almost inhuman. The rational part of him, lost inside a whirlwind of emotion, knows that he should just shut up and not let Stan see how much he's gotten under his skin, but there's too much going on in Craig's head to let that rational part of him win right now. Stan has no fucking idea what he's just done. Or maybe he does, maybe this is just his version of payback. "Are you really that hung up on a fucking list from fourth grade that you need to lie about me to get revenge on me? How old are you?"
Stan doesn't even react, which only pisses Craig off even more. Who the fuck does he think he is, having the audacity to stay more composed than Craig in this situation? "Whatever," he says, rolling his eyes and barely even flinching even though both his eyes are swollen far worse than Craig's left one. "At least I'm not in love with a fucking spaz–"
Stan barely gets the word out before Craig launches himself out of his chair and attacks him again.
Ten minutes later, Craig slams his locker shut and trudges through the empty hallway towards the doors, not at all looking forward to telling his parents that he's just gotten himself suspended for the next two weeks. He pauses just before leaving the school, glaring at the row of black-and-white photocopied pieces of paper hastily taped to the wall before reaching out and ripping them all down, scattering bits of paper and tape all over the floor. On the other hand, he is looking forward to not being around for the aftermath of all this list shit. He doesn't even care about the fucking thing anymore.
Craig pushes open the heavy metal door and steps outside, swinging his backpack up onto one shoulder before starting the walk home. He only cares about one thing right now. One person.
He needs to know what's going on with Tweek.
After school, Clyde and Token are standing together at Token's locker, both of them equally confused by the absence of both of their friends.
"Maybe Craig's still in the principal's office?" Clyde suggests hopefully, craning his neck to try to see the entire hallway at once.
"For three hours?" Token says doubtfully, carefully placing his chemistry book into his messenger bag and closing his locker door.
"Maybe?" Clyde's shoulder slump in defeat. "Yeah, okay, probably not. But then where is he?" He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and frowns down at the lack of notifications, his dark brown eyes troubled.
"I don't know," Token sighs. "You wanna swing by his house and see if he's there?"
"Hey, Token!" Kelly Rutherford-Menskin chirps, appearing out of nowhere. "I love your shirt!"
Token, caught off guard, looks down at his plain sweater. "Oh, uh, thanks?" he says with a shrug.
"Hi, Kelly!" Clyde looks up to flash her a big, toothy grin, but the brunette girl completely ignores him.
"Yeah, so are you still dating Nichole?" Kelly leans in closer, her chin practically resting on Token's shoulder.
Warily, Token responds, "Yeah. Why?"
"Oh, no reason!" Kelly giggles, straightening up and tilting her head. "Sooo, what about Craig, is he seeing anyone?"
And suddenly it all makes sense. Turns out Craig had been right. Despite the fact it's been almost eight years, the list's comeback is, apparently, making everyone go nuts just like before.
While Token fields that question, Clyde is struck with a sudden idea. He opens his messaging app and taps on his most recent conversation with Kenny.
Hey, he types out. I think we should talk.
The Best Fucking Tweek Smiles
1. When we went fishing with my dad and he actually caught something on his own and he smiled at the fish
2. When he got a 100 in Foods class last year and smiled at his report card
3. At Token's 15th birthday party when he thought nobody was looking and he just smiled to himself, fuck that was cute as shit
4. That one time I let him read my Red Racer comic and he smiled at it while reading it
5. While watching Clyde in the tenth grade production of The Little Mermaid
6. Maybe one day he'll smile at me like that
