It seemed as if Craig dreaded walking me to my classes every day, as if he'd rather be with Maddie. I can slowly tell that we're drifting apart from each other after eight years of best friendship. Knowing this hurts more than knowing he doesn't like me in the same way I like him. I still wanted to be his friend, even if I couldn't date him.
My parents are nice people, although quiet. My father is normally busy running the shop, trying to keep up with tasks from customers to inventory since he refuses to hire any employees. He hasn't changed since I was in elementary school other than a few wrinkles that time puts on. Still cheerful, still respectful, still Richard Tweak.
My mother on the other hand, has changed a lot over the course of nearly a decade. First of all, she's developed a hefty tic. Or a habit. I don't know what to call these things anymore. Basically, she has an obsession with cleaning. Not a neat freak, I mean all she does is Windex every fucking thing. My house smells like a goddamn gas chamber or at least one that's been bleached out of its last life. Thankfully, we came to an agreement that she's not allowed in my room or else I might die from the Windex fumes. Besides, if she saw my room, I swear she would have a fucking heart attack. There are coffee mugs and cups scattered on my bedside table and floor, along with clothes and papers from school. It is not pretty. I know I shouldn't talk about my mom as if she's a spaz (takes one to know one), but it's pretty fucking ridiculous.
Aside from their troubles here and there, I love them. Especially when I came out to them as gay. It wasn't necessarily my idea either. The Asian girls that shipped Craig and I in elementary school came out for me. In fact, I didn't even know I was gay at that time until I developed a gigantic crush on my best friend. Thankfully, my parents were extremely accepting and even enjoy the idea of Craig and I as a couple. I agree.
Our family business worked well. We made enough money to pay our bills plus a little extra for fun shit and my medication. Our coffee shop was one of the few places where I felt safe and secure.
The main one was Craig's bedroom.
"What's wrong, Tweek?" my dad seems to ask me the same question every day after school (after I spent the rest of daylight with Craig). But today, I didn't.
"Nothin'" I replied every day. He handed me the coffee he makes me as always. But I knew it wasn't just nothing.
"You're here earlier than usual. Where's Craig?" a shock of what felt like lightning shot through my stomach. I was beginning to hate that name.
"With his girlfriend," I stated blandly. I turned to look up at my dad. His cheerful face turned into one of sadness and understanding. He knew what was happening.
"Don't let it get you down. It'll resolve itself," he reassured me. Thankfully, he was usually right.