Bronchitis sucks major donkey dick.
"Uggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggghhh…"
Three days after his power walk to Kenny's house in 30-degree Colorado weather, Craig found himself squinting at his ruddy reflection in the toothpaste-flecked bathroom mirror. He looked exactly how he felt: pale, pasty and puffy, like someone had just fished his bloated corpse out of a storm drain. Eyelids gunky, nose rubbed raw.
Having brushed the taste of sawdust from his mouth, Craig flipped off the light, staggering back over to his bed like a heat-crazed cow. He collapsed horizontally across the sweaty sheets, not even bothering to scrape off all the wadded-up tissues and crumpled snack wrappers. Everything on him hurt. His bedsheets reeked of swamp dick and murdered time.
"Craig," came his little sister's voice at his bedroom door. "Mom says it's time for dinner. She wants me to see if you're still alive. And if you want some barbeque."
"Uuuughh!"
"Okay, well… is that a yes?"
"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuggggghhh!"
"MOM," Ruby called downstairs. "Craig's dead. And he doesn't want barbeque."
Craig went to pry myself from his bedsheets, but couldn't. They were sticky. Through no fault of his own for once.
This is a good place to die, Craig thought to himself, staring up at the ceiling as the room pitched and yawed beneath him. Ass-up on my bed in my boxer shorts, surrounded by wreaths of Twinkie wrappers and wadded mucus rags. An honored and dignified way to go. Who could ask for more?
Closing his eyes, Craig sighed. He'd pissed away an entire weekend by getting sick, managed to get gay-kissed by not one but two local area sausage squatters, and on top of all that he was going to have homework to do. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Oh, and Craig already knew who his teacher would get to drop off his homework. Of course he did. Who the fuck else?
Sure enough, about twenty minutes later there came three timid knocks downstairs. Straining to listen, he heard his sister Ruby answer the door. Muffled words were exchanged. The door closed.
Please just drop off the books and leave… please just drop off the books and leave… please just drop off the books and leave…
But no. Footsteps on the stairs, too heavy and timid to be Ruby's. Craig scampered hastily underneath his bedsheets, unwilling to let him see his chones. Like, ever.
His bedroom door knocked. In came (guess who!) Tweek, his skinny arms laden with seven courses worth of homework. Upon seeing Craig, his deep-set eyes went wide.
"Yeah, yeah… I look like shit."
"N-no! You look…" Tweek worked his knuckles together. "...f-fine."
Once the air between them had stilled, Craig gestured over to the space he'd cleared on his cluttered desk. Tweek stalked awkwardly over, deposited the sheaf of papers and slinked quickly back to the door. There he paused, one shaky hand on the glass doorknob.
"I'm… sorry. For what happened. Kenny told me."
Craig's eyes narrowed to condemning little slits. He exhaled loudly through his nose. "Yeah… come to find out you guys talk a lot. Don't you?"
Tweek's brow furrowed. "I'm not gonna apologize for talking to my friends. It's lonely here. If you were gay, you'd know that."
Craig shrugged dismissively. "I'm not gay though."
"Okay Craig. Okay."
Shaking his head, Tweek turned the knob.
"Why me though?"
This time Craig didn't mind the words that came pouring over his cracked lips. He was in that twilight where everything ached and nothing felt important.
Tweek's hand dropped from the doorknob, dangling at his side. "Why you what?"
"Just… why me? Of all the dudes in town you could be crushing on, what's so special about me? I'm not gay. I'm not good-looking…"
"Beg to differ," Tweek smirked.
"...I'm not nice to you. I'm not nice to anyone. I'm an asshole. So why waste your time on something that could never happen? Why not go after Bradley? Or that one goth kid? Or fuck, Kenny and Poofball seem like they'd be down for some freaky shit. Why not trio up with them? Just think of all the positions. The possibilities are endless!"
Tweek's face went slack, and right away Craig knew he'd said too much.
"I'm not gonna bother you anymore," Tweek said, not meeting Craig's gaze. "I made up my mind. I'm gonna leave you alone."
"Tweek," Craig groaned.
"No - it's okay. I hope you get to feeling better Craig. See you at school, okay?"
As Tweek went to turn the knob again, Craig lifted his pillow and slapped it over his face, screaming into it. "Arrrgh!"
In the room beyond the darkness of his stinky pillow, all was silent. He had a massive headache. His socks and the small of his back were drenched in sweat. "I just... "
Resolving to just let the words tumble out as they may, Craig drew a ragged breath. "I'm trying to look out for you. Y'know?"
"No. I don't know. Why don't you explain it to me."
Craig gritted his teeth. "Asshole. I don't want you to get hurt."
The air was still again. Then, footsteps padding over the worn floorboards, a meager weight shifting over the old springs of his bed.
"I don't need you to look after me, Craig. I don't need you to suggest other guys for me to chase after. And I don't need you to list all your imperfections. We've been friends since preschool. Trust me, I know them all by heart."
Craig bit his bottom lip, pinching his eyes closed underneath his pillow.
"But to answer your question… I don't really know why I like you. You're right. You're not nice sometimes. But once in a blue moon… you'll say or do something for someone and it's like you're the sweetest guy in the whole world."
Craig felt delicate fingers reach over and gently grab his wrist. He tensed at their touch, trying to stifle the urge to swat them away. "M-maybe it's just me seeing what I want to see. But sometimes, it's like I'm watching a different you. A you that I really like. A you that..." Tweek gulped audibly. "...a you that, deep down, might actually like me back."
Craig shook his head, sighing. "I'm telling ya dude… this can't have a happy ending. I can't be this thing you want me to be. You're just gonna end up wasting your time."
"Hmm…"
Craig's eyes widened as he heard the bedsprings shift, as he felt Tweek throw his leg over his waist, straddling him.
"Tweek, what the -"
Tweek gripped either side of the pillow, holding it down over Craig's eyes.
"I told you. Don't tell me who to chase after," Tweek purred as he leaned in.
The presence of the boy's warm lips against his no longer surprised Craig. Their chewed texture, the taste of French roast coffee on Tweek's otherwise impeccable breath, even the way the boy's fingernails gripped his shirt… all of it was second nature to him by now.
Craig's head felt warm, his thoughts loose and desensitized. From deep within the recesses of the pillow being pressed down over the top half of his face, he studied himself. The way he tilted his head to give Tweek access to his mouth. How he allowed him to take the lead. The way his hands instinctively rose to grip the boy's narrow waist without shoving him off.
Maybe I could be, Craig thought dispassionately. Fuck… maybe I am.
Craig tried to think of the last girl he'd ever given the remotest shit about. No names or faces came to mind. The girls he dated never lasted more than a few months and were generally pretty disposable. Had he ever backed down from a fight with any of his girlfriends? Had he ever noticed the smell of shampoo in their hair, or the color of their eyes?
I mean… would it really be that bad?
Craig's hands slipped beneath Tweek's shirt, blindly exploring Tweek's skin as they kissed. His belly felt warm and firm beneath his heated fingertips.
He's not… like… the worst-looking dude. No homo.
An errant finger slid over Tweek's chest, gracing his nipple. A contented sigh passed between their lips as the skin beneath Craig's wandering hands erupted in goosebumps.
In some deep, hidden part of Craig's feverish mind, it was like a switch had been flipped on.
In one fluid motion he rolled them over, pinning the blonde beneath him. Rearing up, he wedged himself between Tweek's legs, crushing the lumpy pillow down over the startled boy's eyes.
"C-craig!"
Craig kissed him to shut him up. Roughly. Violently. His hand slipped back beneath Tweek's shirt, rubbing and squeezing with wild abandon. When the shirt started offering resistance, he fumbled at the buttons, somehow managing to wrench them apart without their lips ever breaking contact.
This isn't… so bad. No homo.
Tweek, for his part, seemed to have no trouble matching Craig's enthusiasm beat for beat. His narrow hands rose to cup either side of Craig's face. His legs hooked around Craig's waist, his hips curling up to accommodate him.
God dammit… I could take Tweek's pulse through his khakis right now…
The pillow was getting in the way, Craig decided. He gripped it by a corner, flinging it off the bed. Tweek stared up at him, his eyes wide, feral and glass green, like he expected Craig to beat the crap out of him.
"You're staying the night," Craig growled authoritively.
Tweek's eyes doubled in size. "B-but… it's a weekday."
"Don't care. Call your folks. Make up an excuse."
Craig watched a swallow travel down Tweek's slender throat. The blonde nodded quickly, unsure of whether he should be excited or terrified.
