Craig
The moment the bell rang, Tweek was up like a shot.
Craig watched him stumble out of Shop Class, a mix of irritation, anger, and utter confusion churning in his gut. He was supposed to be angry, he knew. That was the whole point, right? Fight Tweek, that's what Cartman and his gang wanted Craig to do. But he didn't actually want to follow through with it.
He'd spent the last part of class just watching Tweek. The boy was clearly terrified, whatever momentary flash of strength Craig had seen in him was totally gone. All he did was twitch and huddle up in the corner, shaking. Craig didn't like it, but then, he didn't like a whole lot of things about the situation. He didn't like that Stan and Kyle had managed to turn Tweek against him before he'd even talked to the blond. He didn't like that Cartman kept looking over at him excitedly as if eager to watch him hurt Tweek.
And he definitely didn't like the bruise on Tweek's cheek that he could still fucking see.
So when the end of class came and Tweek ran as fast as he could, Craig felt… guilty. He was the one who was scaring Tweek, wasn't he? Because those weren't the actions of someone convinced they could win against someone in a physical confrontation. Those were the actions of someone who was scared for their life.
Pushing away from the wall, Craig walked towards the door of the classroom, ignoring the other children, who were still cleaning up from their various projects. He just pushed the door open and slipped out of the classroom. The anger left over in his system still bubbled under his skin, begging for a release, wanting him to hurt something, but he wasn't sure he wanted that thing to be Tweek. Damnit, why did this have to happen?
But maybe, if Craig was lucky, he could somehow avoid the whole thing entirely. If I just go home, maybe I won't have to fight him. Although if Tweek really did want to fight, no matter how little he'd looked like he wanted to, then Craig would fight him. He was still angry after all. If he could avoid it, however, he would.
The moment he got outside, he looked for Tweek. Because if the boy wasn't there, then Craig would just leave and that whole day would just be water under the bridge. Looking out over the kids from the lower grades streaming out around him, Craig searched for a familiar halo of blond hair. For a second, he thought that Tweek wasn't there, that he really had gone home and Craig would be allowed to leave as well.
Then he saw him, standing in the middle of the playground, his eyes turned away from the school. Heart starting to speed up, Craig stared at the boy, a mix of confusion and guilt threatening to show on his face. This wasn't supposed to affect him, things like this never affected him in the slightest. He'd gotten into fights with people for less than what had allegedly happened earlier that day, this shouldn't be any different.
But oh, it was.
Tweek was trembling. Not just his usual twitching but actually shaking. Craig could see that, even as he slowly approached the boy, waiting for him to spin around and turn that fierce glare on him. To strike first and leave Craig no choice but to hit back. But he wasn't, he just stood there twitching, shuffling his feet from side to side. As he got closer, Craig noticed the film of sawdust on Tweek's pants from sitting on the floor of Shop Class and it left a strange taste in the back of his throat.
Close enough to hear the soft sounds escaping involuntarily from Tweek's mouth, Craig forced himself to take a deep, steadying breath. He wanted to speak, but he couldn't think of anything to say. So instead he closed his eyes and schooled his already deadpan expression before reaching out his hand and doing the only thing he could think of. Lightly tapping Tweek on the shoulder. This is it, this determines how this afternoon goes. Except he had a feeling it was about to determine a whole lot more.
The moment his hand met Tweek's shoulder, the boy leaped away from him with a panicked cry of, "AUGH, JESUS!" Big green eyes slowly traveling upwards, Tweek froze as he stared at Craig, a look of utter fear in his eyes. In that moment, a singular image flashed through Craig's mind. An image of Tweek on the ground, his lip bleeding, a bruise forming on his jaw. It was then that he realized I'm not going to hit him.
Tweek however, seemed to think otherwise. Twitching, he took a step back, like he wanted to run but couldn't get himself to move fast enough. Caught between guilt and a whole host of other emotions that Craig had never experienced nor wanted to again, the Noirette tried to find something to focus on.
What his eyes found was the bruise on Tweek's cheek.
Tweek flinched suddenly and it was only then that Craig realized he'd lifted his hand to point at the mark. There was no struggle to speak, even though he probably should have thought it through a little harder. "That bruise," he started, his words thoughtful, even though inside he felt like a wreck. "The lockers, right?"
Vaguely, Craig wondered how he'd have been able to fight Tweek if the boy had still been pissed.
Tweek's throat bobbed, his slender, pale neck making the movement all the more evident. Why Craig was paying attention to something like Tweek's neck was beyond him at this point. Slowly, Tweek nodded, confirming the first part of Craig's suspicions. He'd known of course, but he hadn't known.
Suddenly, he was struck by a stupid urge to touch that dark purple mark.
Staying silent for a moment more, Craig mulled over his next words carefully as he let his hand drop back to his side, just to prevent himself from doing anything untoward. "Who pushed you?" he asked at last, unwilling to let this opportunity pass. If he was going to obsess about it, he might as well get answers. Even though Tweek was shivering, Craig wasn't above questioning the boy.
Twitching hard to his right, Tweek opened his mouth. Nothing came out at first, then he stammered out one word. "C-Cartman." That was it, no explanation, no excuses, no situation, just a name. A name that made Craig's blood boil.
That fucking fatass is going to pay for this. Struggling to contain the fierce anger that had filled him in seconds, Craig allowed a dark look to cross his features before he looked away, not wanting to scare Tweek anymore than he already had. "I'm going home," he told the blond shortly, needing to get out of there before he went back to Shop Class and beat Cartman until he learned not to shove Tweek around. Why do I give a shit, I don't even know Tweek, Cartman hurts people all the time.
Then, because he had no idea what else to do, Craig flipped Tweek off and walked away, forcing himself to just focus on what he was doing instead of thinking about the blond behind him.
Because if his thoughts strayed, there was no telling where they would go.
))))-((((
As his favorite TV show, Red Racer played, Craig stared straight ahead mindlessly, trying and failing to just drift. He felt like he was pulled taught, like a piano wire. You wouldn't have been able to tell from looking at him, at the way he slouched on the couch and maintained that bored expression, but it was true enough. Usually this would be Craig's moment to breathe, but he couldn't right now, he couldn't do anything but run the situation over and over again in his mind.
Cartman wanted him to fight Tweek. Kyle and Stan wanted Tweek to fight him, probably. Cartman had shoved Tweek into the lockers and had probably done similar for years. Craig wanted to do something about it. But he was supposed to be upset with Tweek over something stupid. The cycle repeated, Craig couldn't get away.
Even so, that didn't stop him from imagining giving Cartman what was coming to him. Sure the boy would run crying to a teacher but it would be worth suspension just to give Cartman a taste of his own medicine. After all, he hurt Tweek.
Craig still didn't know why that mattered. At this point, he was beginning to resign himself to the fact that he never would find out. Telling himself that Tweek was perfectly capable of helping himself didn't work because Craig knew that was a lie. The blond needed protection, if that was him, then Craig would do it. Of course, by the same token, he couldn't just admit to anyone that he'd spoken to Tweek, especially after promising a fight and then skipping out on it.
So he was stuck.
Besides, it was weird, protecting another guy when they'd literally only had one conversation and it had consisted of few enough words that Craig could probably count them on his fingers. Craig, despite not giving a fuck, didn't really want to deal with the shit that would get thrown at him if he stood up for Tweek when there was no history between the two of them. Did that make him a monster? Maybe.
His thoughts would have continued in this vein if someone hadn't knocked impatiently at the door. Letting out a groan, Craig paused the TV and got up. He didn't want to answer the door, but his parents were goodness knew where and his sister was in her room. That left him to deal with bullshit. Just dandy…
The moment he opened the door, Craig had to resist the urge just to close it again. Right there, on his damn porch, were two of his least favorite people in the whole world, one of whom he was currently contemplating punching in the jaw. Actually, make that both of them. Craig always wanted to hit Kenny.
"Craig," Cartman said in that annoying voice that made Craig want to grit his teeth together. "What the hell are you doing home?!" As if the fatass had any right to tell Craig where to be and where not to be. It was all Craig could do not to lash out at the boy, but he held his tongue and his fist. It was stupid to attack Cartman for something he'd done to someone else, no matter how justified Craig might feel afterward. It wasn't worth it.
"You're supposed to be out fighting Tweek!" Hm, that's nice, what about the fact that I don't want to! But he couldn't say that, so he searched for a better answer that would satisfy Cartman.
"Red Racer's on," he said at last, though he was pretty sure he wasn't going to remember a moment of the episode. He just wanted Cartman to go away, him and the stupid blond beside him, who kept staring at him in that I know something you don't kind of way.
"Craaaiiig," Cartman whined, his voice grating on Craig's ears. "You can watch Red Racer any day of the week!"
"I do watch Red Racer every day of the week," Craig pointed out, his blank expression doing nothing to give away just how pissed he really was. Get off my damn porch Cartman, he wanted to growl. Get out of my face before I make you get out of my face. While he might not like the idea of hurting Tweek, he had no qualms whatsoever about leaving Cartman black and blue. Hell, he relished the idea.
Which was strange because usually, even when he was beating someone up, he didn't give a fuck. It was just something he did, not something to enjoy or dislike. This marked the first time that the idea of hurting someone else actually gave him any sense of… Well, anything. And he had no idea why, but he wasn't sure he liked it.
Cartman, naturally, couldn't hear a word of his internal dialogue and kept talking. Clasping his hands behind his back, the shorter boy looked at the sky and absently said, "Well, that's fine." Praise the lord, I have your approval now. "I guess you don't care about what Tweek said about your mom…"
The fact that they thought this was going to get a rise out of him showed how little they knew about him. He honestly couldn't give less of a fuck what anyone said about either of his parents. Deciding that the conversation was over, Craig said, "Nope," and closed the door in Cartman's face.
The moment it was closed, he leaned his head against the old wood and let out a sigh. This whole thing was driving him crazy, his head was a mess and his emotions were too. He was still so angry but without any good way to let it out, it was just making it worse. And to make matters worse it seemed like everyone wanted him to fight Tweek, which was so stupid because Cartman was making the whole thing up anyway.
Hell, if he fought Tweek at this point, it would probably out of desperation to get people to stop bothering him. It's not like he'd pose much of a challenge anyway. Unbidden, a memory of Tweek's glare appeared in his mind's eye and Craig's thoughts slowed for a moment. It was so unlike the twitch blond but he wanted to see it again if only to confirm it was real.
That right there, that brief flash of something else, that had been power. That had been the ability to stand up and fight, not hide and cower. After all this time spent staring at Tweek and believing that the boy was scared of everything, Craig had discovered that he was wrong. Tweek might have been scared of a lot of things, but when Craig had glared at him, Tweek hadn't been scared of him.
No, he'd been-
Someone knocked on the door. Gritting his teeth together, Craig pulled it open again to find Cartman and Kenny still standing there, in the exact same positions they'd been in when he'd closed the door in their faces. Looking up at the sky, Cartman said, "Well, I guess you don't care about what Tweek said about your guinea pig."
Frustrated with Cartman's bullshit and ready for the damn charade to be over, Craig gave up on maintaining a shield of calm and just snapped, "What!? What did he say about Stripe?!" If I just give Cartman what he wants, he'll leave me alone. That was fine, Craig could play the game. And what was more, he was going to resist hurting Cartman for the entire duration.
"Oh nothing," Cartman said, continuing his innocent examination of the sky. "Except that you stick it up your ass before you go to bed." Craig would have bet money on the fact that the only person who had ever said something so vulgar about him or his guinea pig was Cartman.
But he was acting, wasn't he? Putting some of that anger to good use, Craig said, with as much vehemence as he could muster, "That son of a bitch, I'll kill him!" Of course, he wouldn't but if it made Cartman go away, then he supposed a little lying was worth it. Even if it made the boy believe that he hated Tweek. Besides, he thought bitterly. If Stan and Kyle are over at Tweek's house, they're probably telling him all sorts of horrible things and Tweek being Tweek, he's going to believe them.
"Yeah," Cartman agreed, nodding sympathetically. "I'd be pissed too. So maybe we should reschedule the fight for tomorrow?" I'm not going to get out of this, am I? Well, he decided, if Tweek was there and was ready to fight, then he would be too.
"After Red Racer," he specified, deciding that if he was going to make himself miserable, he might as well not miss his favorite show to boot.
Nodding graciously, Cartman agreed, "After Red Racer, of course."
Without waiting for the fatass to say anything else that might cause Craig more grief, the Noirette simply closed the door again in his face. As Cartman's laughter and footsteps faded from earshot, Craig grit his teeth together and spat out a soft, "Fuck," before slowly making his way back to the couch.
If there was no way out of it, then he'd fight, but he sure as hell didn't want to. And he didn't care if that made him a wuss or weak or whatever else the other kids might call him, Craig had never given a fuck before and he wasn't about to start now.
Needing to clear his head, he un-paused the TV and allowed himself to simply drift, not letting himself about Tweek or Cartman or the fight or anything else that was confusing him. As Red Racer drifted through his brain, Craig wondered absently, in that way one did when they were so out of it they'd lost control of their own mind, if Tweek would like the show as well.
But the thought was gone before he could seize upon it.
He stayed like this until dinner time, not even moving to change the channel when his show ended and another one began. Craig just sat there, unable to make himself do much more. He felt drained after that day's events, more than drained really. Craig felt wrung out like a sponge.
So when his mother called him to dinner, it took him a moment to even register that he'd been called. Nevertheless, he finally managed to drag himself off of the couch and too the dining room table, despite all the things swirling about in his mind. Craig Tucker hated being confused, but he'd never felt more confused in his life.
Dinner at his house was always a rather sordid affair. Family dinner was mandatory, but it was obvious that not a single one of them liked it. But Craig's father was all about appearances and that meant sitting down and eating as a family. Sitting at the table with his sister and parents, Craig felt like the silence was forced and oppressive. Generally, he didn't care, he liked not having to say anything. But tonight, he almost felt compelled to speak.
So he did.
"Dad," he said, looking up from his untouched food. "I'm supposed to get in a fight tomorrow." He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but somehow, everyone just continuing to eat as if he hadn't said anything didn't surprise him at all.
Disinterestedly, his father asked, "With who?"
Only with the one person in this entire goddamn town that elicits an emotion from me that isn't anger. "Some kid," Craig answered, still staring at his father as if waiting for him to say something enlightening.
"Oh," was all his father had to say.
"Don't just "Oh" him, Thomas!" his mother snapped, glaring at his father.
Frustrated with both of them, Craig snapped, "Yeah, don't just 'Oh' me!" But that was his parents for you, useless unless they wanted to yell at him. Blank slates unless his father was pissed at him, only then did he become something else.
"I'll "Oh" whoever I want!" his dad announced, glaring at his wife, who flipped him off in irritation. He flipped her off in return. This is all so stupid, why is this my life. It pissed him off, but more than that, it made him feel helpless.
From beside Craig, Ruby, his little sister, flipped both of their parents off, though Craig highly doubted she fully comprehended what was going on. You don't know how ugly our parents are inside. Frustrated with all of them, Craig gave up and just flipped them all off in turn.
"Don't you disrespect your mother like that!" Craig's dad snapped, thumping the table with his fist. The whole thing shook, threatening to spill the glasses of water on it.
Unable to hold back his anger, Craig burst, "It's not as if you give a shit anyway!"
Rising from his seat, Craig's father spat, "What the hell did you just say to me?!"
Getting to his feet as well, Craig shouted, "I said you don't give a fuck so why bother pretending!?"
"Get out of my sight!" Thomas Tucker roared, fire dripping from his words. "You're a disgrace!"
"Like you're any better!" Craig shot back before storming from the room, fists clenched, murder on his mind. Trust his dad to be able to entirely push Tweek and all the other bullshit from the day out of his brain. I need to get out of here.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Craig was relieved to find a text from Clyde waiting for him. [Dude, I'm over at Token's but he's doing homework and being boring. Come save me, Craig!]
Making up his mine Craig opened his bedroom door and grabbed for his backpack before shoving some extra clothing into it. Whenever he went over to Token's house this late, he ended up just sleeping over anyway. Slinging it over his shoulder, Craig quickly texted back, [Calm the fuck down, I'm on my way.] before throwing open his window and catching hold of the drainpipe he usually used to escape from his house.
It wasn't the first time he'd fucked off when his family got to be too much and, as his feet hit the ground and he started off towards his friend's house, it wouldn't be the last. Besides, it wasn't like anyone cared that he was gone.
For the first time since that morning, Craig's mind was blessedly still.
