Sorry for not updating in months. I kinda forgot, since I've already uploaded all of this on AO3. But here ya'll are.
The next time Craig had checked his phone, he noticed he had two missed calls from Wendy. He wasn't entirely sure he could stomach talking to her, or anyone else on the tapes. But he felt he owed something to her. They were both on the tapes. They both knew what the other was going through.
With a shaky sigh, he called her back.
"Craig!" Wendy sounded relieved, letting out a large sigh. "I'm so glad you called me."
"Why?"
"You know why. You're on the tapes too." She paused. "I need to talk to you though. About the tapes. Which one are you on right now?"
"I just finished eight."
"Good. You're at Stark's Pond, I'm guessing?"
"Yeah." He bit his lip.
Another pause. "I'll be there in thirty minutes. Don't listen to tape seven just yet."
She hung up, leaving Craig dreading whatever was on tape seven. At this point, it was obvious it was his. But he wasn't ready. Not for whatever was on it. He didn't think he'd ever be ready.
Sitting and waiting for Wendy was agony. He wanted to ignore the tapes. He wanted to throw them out. To forget they had ever existed. Most of all, he wanted to bring Stan back. Stan hadn't deserved any of this. He should have gotten something better.
Craig was on the verge of slipping into sleep when there was a knock on the window. He rolled it down, revealing Wendy. The bags under her eyes were more prominent than they had ever been, and there was nothing but emptiness in her smile. It was forced. Fake.
"You don't have to keep appearances up around me, Testaburger." Craig said as he shoved the tape recorder and the headphones into his backpack and threw it to the backseat. "Get in on the passenger side."
"Well, that's a hell of a greeting." Wendy commented with a laugh, before moving to the passenger side. She opened the door before sitting down and slamming it shut.
"So." Craig said, pulling off his hat and running a hand through his hair. "Lets just go ahead and skip the bullshit. What do you want?"
She bit her lip, closing her eyes. "You shouldn't be on the tapes, Craig. At least, I don't think you should."
That. That was confusing. "What?"
"You didn't do anything wrong." She brushed her bangs from her eyes. "I'm-I'm not saying you shouldn't listen to the tape. Because you should. You need to. You need closure."
"Closure?"
"You're not over Stan's death."
"I would be, if it hadn't been for the goddamn tapes."
"Craig, its more than the tapes. I know you cared about Stan. We all did."
"I didn't-"
"I'm not saying you two were the best of pals and his death is causing you total soul crushing grief, okay?" She sighed, rubbing her forehead like she was about to get a headache. "I'm just saying that you're sad, and you miss him, and you need closure."
"I'm confused. Is this about me getting closure or about me not belonging on the tapes?"
"You said no bullshit, so here it is. You don't belong on the tapes. You didn't do anything wrong. I don't want you to think you did anything, and I don't want you to feel that you took part in Stan's suicide. But, you still need to listen to it, because it's going to help you accept what's happening right now, and that Stan is dead. And it's going to help you move on."
He sighed, leaning back against the seat. "I didn't realize you were a therapist."
She gave a small smile. "I'm not trying to be a therapist. I'm trying to be your friend."
"Why?"
"Because you need someone to lean on right now. You need a crutch. And I don't mind supporting that weight." She wiped at her eyes, letting out a shaky breath.
"Are you sure I'm the one that needs a crutch right now?"
She tried to keep her smile, but her face fell, and finally she broke. She covered her eyes with her hand, slumping forward. Her shoulders shook and sobs racked her body.
It was then he noticed how tangled her hair was. How much paler she looked since Stan had been announced as dead.
"I want him back." She whispered. With a small sniffle, she sat back up, pulling her knees to her chest. "I want him to come back. I can't do this without him."
"He didn't make you happy." Craig muttered, staring down at his lap.
"Yes he did." She said. "I should've broken it off for good. I loved him. I still love him. But not like that. Never like that."
"Why didn't you break it off then?"
"I'd fooled myself into thinking that I was in love with him."
"Why'd you cheat on him then?"
"I didn't want to leave him. I knew if I broke it off he'd refuse to talk to me. And who would he have then? His mom gave up a long time ago. Kyle left. Kenny left. Cartman...God..." She swallowed, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. "He would be alone. But I was selfish, even when I wanted what was best for him. I was so fucking selfish..."
"Are you still with Token?"
"I broke it off with him as soon as I listened to my tape."
"Do you have a crutch?" He asked, looking from his lap to her.
"Unless you count the ones I got from when I broke my leg, no." She laughed, shaking her head.
He thought it over for a moment, gnawing on the inside of his cheek, before he finally decided what to say.
"I'm not going to carry this weight for you. And I don't want you to carry mine. Lets just stop with the whole 'crutch' and 'carry the weight' shit. But obviously, we're both kinda alone in this, so I don't see why we can't at least...be here for each other. "
It was weird. He wasn't usually like this. So open to someone he barely talked to. But she wanted to be here for him, and no one else who had gotten the tapes so far had done that. He owed it to her to be there for her as well.
She nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice." She sighed, leaning back against the seat and closing her eyes.
He didn't know how much time had passed as they sat in his truck, before she finally sat up. "You still need to listen to the rest of the tapes." She said, sitting back up.
"Fuck." Craig muttered, sighing. He sat up, and pulled his book bag back to the front seat. He dug around before grabbing tape seven and the tape recorder.
"No headphones?" Wendy asked when he didn't pull his headphones back out.
Craig shrugged. "Don't need them." He pressed play.
Craig Tucker. Lucky number seven. You might be thinking, Craig, 'why the Hell am I on here'? I guess its fair. We never really were close, and I know you don't remember that night. If you did, you'd have beaten the shit out of me the next day.
But guess what babe, you're still on here. So sit back, relax, and listen to your little own personal tale.
Who is Craig Tucker? Why is he so interesting? Is it his 'stoicness'? His apathy? His abnormal height? Like, Jesus Christ dude. 6'10? That's just not normal.
But...we just don't know why Craig is so interesting. But rumors about Craig have always floated throughout our school, probably throughout the whole town. How he's a gang member, a serial killer, a drug addict. I remember at one point there was a rumor that he was a male prostitute. People loved the rumors, but the truth? Either they didn't know, or they didn't care. Lies are so much more fun than the truth, aren't they?
I don't think very many people really have gotten to know who Craig really is. I know that he has his gang of assholes, but even then, it seems the only people he's ever really opened up to are Token and Clyde.
And...well...
Me.
But Stan, you just said you and Craig weren't close.
We weren't. Trust me, we weren't.
But...even then, I broke through the wall that Craig's built up over the last seventeen years of his life. I guess you could say I came in like a wrecking ball. What? Not funny? Come on, these tapes are so morbid. I thought a little joke would help lighten things up. No? Okay.
Craig never gets drunk at parties. And he doesn't get high. He doesn't touch anything.
Why is this important?
Well, Craig's been seemingly clean, until three weeks ago, when I got him drunk.
It was an asshole move, especially from someone who's been dealing with alcoholism since I was ten. But I didn't know how else to get him to talk.
It's hard enough trying to get his eyebrows to raise more than a centimeter, but trying to get him to talk to you if he doesn't care about you or what you have to say is a whole new feat.
I wanted to know who he was. Even knowing him for seventeen years got me practically nothing. I wanted to know his life story. I don't know why he interested me so much suddenly. But I had to know, who is Craig Tucker?
So, to find out, I got him drunk. Its funny, seeing how much people can change with alcohol in their system. Craig is usually so reserved...It was...weird, seeing him open up so easily.
I remember the night really clearly. The party was at Stark's Pond. Something to celebrate the end of the school year. Everyone went, of course. It wasn't like there was anything else to do or anywhere else better to be.
I waited a couple hours before I went up to Craig. I was so nervous. What if it didn't work? What if he found out what I was trying to do? I almost didn't go through with it, to be honest. Maybe if I hadn't things would be different. But its too late now.
I found him by the edge of the water, sitting by himself and doing only god knows what on his phone. I nudged him with my foot, because I was worried he'd snap my wrist if I touched him with my hand.
"What?" Is all he said to me, not even looking up.
"I just want to talk. Jeez." I sat down beside him, and held out a cup. He stared at it for a few moments.
"You know I don't drink." He said it really quietly, it actually kind of scared me. He sounded scared too, almost.
"Just one."
"No, Stan." Suddenly we were to first name basis.
"Dude. Its not gonna kill you."
He looked away for a second, setting his phone down on his lap.
"Okay." He said, with this really loud, defeated sigh. "Just one." Then he got this really weird look in his eyes. "Just. One."
One ended up turning into five. Five turned into seven. And he was gone.
Like I said earlier, it was really weird seeing him open up. He was laughing, smiling, and I could barely make out what he was saying half the time. It was probably the first time either of us had actually laughed in a while.
The party was slowly starting to die down when I started asking him questions. Nothing in particular, just...things that would help me make out who this asshole really is.
And who is Craig Tucker? You must all be wondering. Well, there's a simple answer to that.
Nobody. Craig Tucker is nobody.
Craig told me he's depressed. That he has to take pills to even moderately function.
But I don't get it. Craig...well lets face it. He has, everything. A loving family, friends who actually care about him...
Why is he depressed? What could possibly cause him to be depressed?
I ended up leaving him alone drunk at the party. I don't know how he got home from the party. Token or Wendy maybe. In all honesty, I really don't fucking care.
So why is Craig on the list? Its not like he necessarily did anything bad.
Well Craig, you gave me a new perspective.
You showed me that no matter how perfect the world can be, you will still feel like shit. You will still be trapped in Hell.
You showed me that there is no escape.
You didn't do it on purpose, and I get that. I totally get that.
But you're still on these tapes.
Because you are still one of the reasons why.
Next tape.
Craig and Wendy sat in silence for the next few minutes as Craig tried to process everything that Stan had just said.
"You said I didn't do anything..." Craig finally muttered, swallowing.
"You didn't, Craig." Wendy said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "And even if you did do something, it wasn't intentional." She sighed. "Plus, Stan was the one who got you drunk."
"I'm the one who took the drink. I'm the one who kept drinking. Its my fault." He pushed the car door open.
"Craig, what are you doing?" She asked, before he slammed the door back shut. She followed him out, forgetting to close the door. "Craig!"
She followed him down to the water, where he sat down at the very edge. She sat down beside him. "Craig..."
He stared down into the water, an unreadable look on his face. "I promised my mom something. A while back. I think it was before the party by a few days. I don't know." He put his head in his hands, letting out a large sigh. "I promised her I wasn't going to drink. How fucking stupid is that? Did she seriously expect me to go through with it?"
"Why did you then, if you knew it was stupid?"
He swallowed, shaking his head. "I don't know."
"Yes you do. Tell me."
"She. She needed to hear it."
"Why?"
"My grandpa. My dad. Both fucking useless drunks." He pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms.
"I thought your dad-"
His head snapped back up. "What did you think? That my dad was some fucking upstanding citizen? Where did you hear it from? Your parents?"
She nodded.
"Oh! Of course! This is why no one ever fucking believes me!" He pulled the sleeve to his sweater all the way up to his forearm. Two black bruises, like someone had grabbed his arm and yanked it. "Where do you think those came from?"
"You-You told someone, didn't you?" She took his arm in her hands, looking over the bruises "Craig, you've told someone?"
"Yeah." Craig said, pulling his arm out of her grasp. "I told the guidance counselor. Eighth grade and last year. Even showed them the fucking bruises. And you know what they did in response? Called my dad. Told him what I said. And he explained it, that I just get into fights, that I lie sometimes to get my way. And then he fucking dragged my ass home, and gave me some more of these." He pulled his sleeves back down.
"You should've kept trying. Someone would've believed you eventually. I would've beli-"
"I even told Token and Clyde." Craig said suddenly, cutting her off. "We've been friends for so long, I thought they'd believe me. But y'know what they told me? 'That's not funny, that's just sick', like I was making a fucking joke." He laughed. "If my closest friends wouldn't even fucking believe me, then why would anyone else?"
"Why hasn't your mom done anything? Why hasn't she divorced him?"
"We already have to borrow money from my grandparents. Do you really think divorcing my dad is gonna make things any better?"
Wendy sighed. "Do you remember the party at all?"
Craig shook his head.
"Is what Stan said true? That you're...depressed?"
Craig picked at his sleeves. "Yeah." He said, shrugging. "I guess."
"You guess? Craig, you're-if you're taking pills then you should've been diagnosed with depression."
"Why did you ask then?"
She ran a hand through her hair as she stared down at the ground, shaking her head slightly. "I don't know."
Craig turned to look back at his truck. "I should listen to the rest of the tapes, shouldn't I?"
"Its part of the rules, isn't it?"
They both made their way back to the truck, not speaking to one another.
"You brought your car, right?" Craig asked, opening the door to the drivers side.
"Yeah. I guess I should go then." She went to turn around, before stopping herself. "Uh, Craig?"
"Yeah?"
"I almost forgot. Can you meet me down at this address tomorrow morning?" She reached into her pocket, before holding out a piece of paper.
He stared down at it for a moment, before taking it. He thought about it for a moment, letting out a small sigh. "Yeah."
"Good." She smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow then."
He shoved the piece of paper into his pocket, before sitting back in the truck.
He'd finish the tapes at home, he decided, before starting up the truck, and starting his way back home.