2.3 Unbridled Uncertainty, Emotional Shortages
un·cer·tain·ty n.
1. the state of being uncertain; doubt; hesitancy: His uncertainty gave impetus to his inquiry.
2. an instance of uncertainty, doubt, etc.
3. unpredictability; indeterminacy; indefiniteness.
Sometimes, it takes us absolute failure, absolute bottom, to realize those important, those values needed in every day existence. Sometimes, this is a false sense of budding security to muddled us through the fabulous deceptions life has to offer us. Sometimes, friendship is nothing more that a game played by curious pawns. Sometimes, we all just have to sit back, watch….and wait.
-
Everything was an emotional blur. The visitors crying, begging, asking forgiveness, asking why why why. The silky shadows smirking with fangs, the hint of claws raking skin when no one else was around, the voices crooning, coaxing from below in his subconscious. When the light shifted and colours burst there was always someone new looking down on him in pity, in misunderstanding; his parents, his friends, his teachers, the townsfolk, the nurses, his person demon with honey eyes dripping in sweetness out of worry and concern. Through the dizzying spell of the after-drug effects blood dribbled from his mouth as his body rejected the chemicals, scaring those that mattered most.
He was knocked under and released on Thursday, with the orders to stay home, as things hadn't quite quailed at school, and lectures, counseling, and talks to the children were still underway. At first, it wasn't hard to keep Craig under control, as the medication they had given him kept him just beyond the ring of consciousness, sleeping peacefully. He swayed back and forth in the chaos, floating through his thoughts, arguing with himself and his self-doubts. And among them was the warmth and security Tweek possessed, the fluttering feeling produced deep in his stomach whenever he caught his twitchy friend's glance.
Craig fought with himself, crying out, warring against the swelling affection for his best pal. He clawed, pulled chunks of his hair, yelled and screamed into the subconscious plummets of his mind. It was wrong, it was…gay. All through his life he'd heard nothing but how homosexuals were wrong, sent by the Devil in the form of temptation, to lure you away from the path of righteousness. That even remotely considering the idea of ruining the sanctity of marriage by fouling the bounds of matrimony with someone of the same sex was absolutely forbidden, a sure-fire way to Hell. And yet…the town was alright with Mr. Garrison, friendly enough with Satan. And hadn't his generation already proven themselves Hellspawn, no matter?
Inside the darkness of drugs, Craig tempered. So what if he liked Tweek? His snazzy little blonde made him happy, curled the corners of his lips into a smile when he was around. It was different then what Red did to him. He liked her, liked the perceived impression of normality by having a girlfriend, but she was cool, she was like a guy to him. Could kick his ass at video games, already proved she could take care of herself, liked to play dirty when the opportunity arose, and yet had that girlish charm where she could bake a mean batch of cookies when the time was right.
Tweek, on the other hand, drove him into insanity, and now it was worse. He didn't know what to do anymore; his Tweek needed protection, needed someone to chuckle at his tirades and feed his caffeine addiction. But the tweek that had walked onto the bus and back into his life on the first day of sixth grade had backbone and was headstrong, determined and uncaring of what others thought. No matter, Tweek was Tweek, and had his head in a tizzy, his emotions uncontrolled and on edge.
That was proven by the unrestrained, needful session in the school bathroom. The clumsy, dominating actions, accented by two years to dwell, think, become angry, and realize just why he needed Tweek around. It was proven by the way he treated his best friend of so many years, by walking away from him, lying when he needed certainty most of all. Out of fear; fear of what everyone would think of him for loving a boy, for loving Tweek; fear of what would happen afterwards; most of all, fear of hurting Tweek in the long run. It seemed the better decision to push away, distance his blonde when he had the opportunity, then fall to desperately into the tangled skein of Fate.
His blonde. Craig laughed, choking on a sob as he fell deeper into his Self, away from Awareness at each passing thought, his descent progressive with the ability to realize finally what his paranoid freak meant to him. He would do anything to keep anyone from harming him, except himself. The irony of that sent him over the edge, into sweet darkness, crimson eyes staring down at him the last thing there before fading to nothing.
-
It was the mouth-watering smell of roast floating through the ventilation system that stirred Craig from his slumber. He moaned, hand tangling in his hair as he pushed on his forehead, trying to quail the headache that exploded to no avail. He felt queezy, either from the remnants of the drugs or the fact he hadn't eaten in days, he wasn't sure. Pushing himself up in his pillows, he cracked his eyes open, looking around to find the window ajar and the curtains fluttering in the chilled wind, golden sunlight streaming in from behind the evening clouds, casting long shadows and putting a hardedge on everything it touched.
Except, of course, the soft face of his sister, haggard with the strain of meeting his neon eyes. She looked rumbled, but it wasn't from exertion or walking in the wind, it had a feeling of inside exhaustion that left the puffy circles under her eyes. She sat at his desk, hands clasped together, lips pursed, saying nothing as he sat further up in bed, shaking his curled and matted hair out, in an attempt to look decent, and gave a weak smile.
If it had been his friend, his parents, even Tweek, it wouldn't have been as hard as looking into his kid-sister's disappointed eyes now, too tired to brim over with the emotion he could tell she was hiding to restrain. But Tracie - despite all the difference they had, all the fighting that had ensued over the years - still looked up to him, still thought of her brother as a hero for looking out after her for all the years she tormented him.
He sighed, catching her gaze once more, and knew she wouldn't speak until he did. "Why do you look so down, Brighteyes?" he asked, hoping her childhood nickname would spark some sort of smile.
It didn't. Instead, her look flared angry, fists curling until Craig worried her knuckles would burst through the skin. She ground her teeth, freckles popping out against the flush that crept over her face, and the small, teakettle-like noise that hummed from her throat had him nearly cowering.
"What's wrong? Why am I down?" she said evenly, the temper cutting through her words as she slowly started her Hellborn path to his bed. Craig gulped. "Could it possibly be that my brother, my one and only dumbassmutherfuckershittings onuvabitch brother tried to kill himself? That the person I look up to is taking a godawful assortment of drugs? You THINK THAT COULD BE?!"
By now, Craig had swung his legs on the opposite side of the bed, putting it between him and her. Unlike him, who had a quiet, deadly temper, Tracie rarely got angry, and when she did she exploded. And when she exploded, nothing on the face of Earth was scarier or more dangerous.
"Tracie, jesus, shut the fuck up and calm down-"
"CALM DOWN?! You want me to CALM DOWN?!" she practically seethed, spitting venom as she launched herself over his bed. Even woozy, Craig dodged the oncoming redhead and darted around the obstacle that may be his death, heading straight for the door. His guinea pigs scuttered around in their cage, frightened by what could only be a crazy women.
Craig wasn't fast enough, not with a door that had been successfully locked against his escape. Wind whooshed from his lungs as he was knocked flat on his face, the fifty-something pound menace struggling to keep him down, but Craig didn't want to hurt his sister. After a brief tussle that landed him rolled onto his back, pinned with a snarling eight-year-old sitting on his waist, he gave up.
"Brighteyes," he soothed, running his hands up and down her shaking arms that held his shoulders painfully to the ground. "Don't do this. Calm down. I'm still here, I'm still around to be an asshole, so can you please stop trying to take me to my death?"
Her glare only intensified, and it was only after the wetness hit his face did he realize she was crying, the trembling from holding back her wrecked emotions. "What were you thinking?" she finally whispered, the anger mostly gone, desperation entering her voice. "Why would you? How could you?"
He sighed, propping up on his elbows as she sat back on her heels, hands going to her face to wipe away the steady stream of tears. He reached out, heart aching at the pain he'd caused her, running his fingers through her loose hair. Only now, his sister crying her eyes out for him, against him, did he realize how stupid his actions had been. He should have handled his fear better than he had, at least in a different manner.
"You always were the smart one, Tracie, the one with common sense. It was stupid, I shouldn't have done it. Please stop crying…"
"I almost lost my brother," she said brokenly. "My stupid fucking brother. I thought I did, when I saw them carrying you out on the stretcher, blood everywhere, still dripping from your mouth as you vomited unconscious. I just…I didn't know what to do, what to think. I don't remember much except Mom and Dad putting me in the car, talking me down, saying you were okay, that's it."
Craig didn't want to think about it. He barely remembered, shuddered at the thought of the spiders, the maggots, the slugs, the canines and blood everywhere, the haunting words that had been his lifeline through the dizzying hallucinations. He could imagine the shock she had faced, and had no way to make amends for that. Nothing could explain how sorry he was.
The desperation was back. She shook his shoulders, a panicked look in her eyes. "Please, please don't do it again. Please stop the drugs, please stop. I don't want to see you like that again."
He took her cold, shaking hands in his, rubbing his thumbs on her palms, a forced smile twitching his cracked lips into assurance. "Tracie, it's a promise," he said softly, eyes sad, knowing in the back of his head it was a lie. Already he was itching for something to kill his nerves, settle his anxiety and stomach, tone the world down and smooth out the edges. But that was something he'd never admit.
She pushed away and stood, whipping her hair behind her shoulders with a nearly smoldering look of dismay. Calculating on whatever thought was going through her mind, she just nodded, reverting back to his watchful urchin of a kid-sister. "I know," she agreed, her smile one of malice. "It won't happen again."
He raised a brow as he pushed himself to his feet, suspicious. The slight edge of her voice, the certainty she held, made him want to question her intentions. How could she be so sure? Unless…no, she couldn't have known. She couldn't know. How in the world could she? And yet…
"What're you talking about, Tracie?"
She turned away, went to settle his terrified guinea pigs, almost seeming to sense the hostile tension that had broken out over the anguish the girl had shown moments prior. Despite himself, he had to laugh; he certainly wasn't the only fucked-up one in the family, obvious by Tracie's rampant bipolar behaviour. Or maybe that was just females. But that still didn't answer his question.
A little firmer. "Tracie."
With her finger jammed between the plastic-coated bars, petting the end of Stripe's nose, a sigh escaped. She seemed like his annoying cancerous infection of a sister, content with his furballs, sunlight streaming over her face, but underneath that was a knowledge that scared him.
"You weren't ready. Anyone could see that if they looked hard enough. But no one did, no one thought that your bursts of temper meant anything, that you running out and disappearing to who-knows-where meant a damn thing. But it did; you weren't ready to face Tweek."
A nervous laugh bled from his lips as he ran a hand through the curling ends of his thick hair, yanking tangles, hardly feeling them as his calm broke. What did she know? "Don't be a douche, you're making this sound really gay. Tweek is just Tweek, I mean Jesus."
"Don't fucking play dumb, Craig Louis," she spat, spinning on her heels as she shot him a dangerous glare. "I'm a room away from you, I have to hear you all through the fucking night talking to yourself."
"I don't talk in my sleep."
She threw her hands up, but Tracie was far from done. "Maybe, maybe not, I wouldn't doubt you stay up all goddamn night long running through your paranoid thoughts, as if all day wasn't long enough to put yourself through Hell." She fixed her clover eyes on his face, leaning back against his desk. "You know, Mom and Dad had me rummage through your room while you were in the hospital. See what I found. The stash was flushed, what I found anyway. But-"
His mind whirred. It wasn't the few hundred he lost in the counter-clockwise motion of the porceline god he worried about, because he knew his sister, and she was thorough when she had the opportunity to snoop; he doubted she missed a thing. Which meant she had to have run across the notes he'd written to himself and Tweek over the past few years, the progressive confusion and hurt he'd authored on sleepless nights. Which meant…
"You dirty little bitch," he crooned, voice silky for the anger and frustration he felt out of such an invasion into his thoughts and feelings. "You stupid dyke."
"Get over yourself," she retorted, flashing a middle finger. "You think Tweek really wanted you to get strung out because you're too arrogant to admit-"
"Shut the fuck up."
"-you have a gay little crush?"
"I said shut up."
"Jesus Craig, look at yourself. You've been destroying yourself for, how long now? Mom, Dad, me, Red, your friends, Tweek, none of us want to watch you do this. No one. Do you have any idea how many came in and out of the hospital to see you? Worried that an asshole like you might die? We love you, fucking regardless of who you may-"
"Shut up!" He didn't need to yell, didn't need to raise his voice, the threat rolled through like currents, hate - hate for himself, hate for his sister knowing, hate for knowing she was absolutely right - more than distinguishable. She stepped back, reminded entirely of the incident where she had broken her wrist due to her brother's anger. Now he was feeling lightheaded, the pulls of tangible neon ribbons tugging him somewhere deep into his subconscious, a feeling that was hard to shake. "Just shut up. I don't want to hear it. Why does everyone insist on making me gay with Tweek? Fucking ay' he's just my friend. Just drop it."
Tracie sighed as she watched his struggle, from the scary boy he'd just been, with a hint of hysteria under it all, to his typical frustrated look, that bordered on the forlorn sadness of a lost puppy, just wanting to be home and loved. And maybe that was true, maybe Craig just needed to be where he wasn't judged, with who would always be at his side.
"I talked to Tweek."
Ivy eyes snapped upright at that as Craig forgot how to breathe. Forgot mere reason as murderous intent dripped through his skull. He reigned the emotions implanted as his own, remembering the brighteyed girl was his sister, and it probably wouldn't look good if he did anything to her. Calmly, with a vicious smile he asked, "You did what?"
Humming under her breath she turned the knob, opening the door, flicking her glance his way with dim intelligence burning behind the visciousness. "I talked to Tweek. I know you, Craig, and I won't let you get hurt. Just think of us for once, please," she said with a final sigh, slipping into the shadows at the stairs to plod down to the rising smell of supper, escaping the rising temper of her brother.
-
On a normal, everyday Friday evening Tweek would have dinner with his parents in their own disjointed fashion, characteristic with Eavan's patient smiling, Richard's longwinded stories that melted into casual extended metaphors, his own jerky spazzing that usually lead to the peas flinging across the room into a ceiling fan or two and pummeling them all. After cleanup, a television show or two, a cup of foaming coffee with biscuits, he would be shipped off to one of his friends' house to spend the night and weekend.
On this Friday, he was curled up under blankets in his room, shivering still despite the warmth, burrowed like a bunny as the sun streamed in through the slotted blinds. He lay staring at the blanket covering his head, too exhausted to consider the possibility of suffocation, his eyes stinging from the effort to bite back tears of frustration, anger, and hurt. He locked his jaw, knowing if a sound escaped his emotion would win and he'd be a hysteric loon lost to depression before anyone knew it. And he couldn't give his Bat King the satisfaction of such a thing.
But it wasn't Curson's fault he felt this way. Far from it, actually. He had been there whispering sweet temptations to rid the world of who was harming him, confronting him. Crooning sweet nothings, singing back the emotion with assurance. And though Tweek could reach up, run a finger across the grinning gash on his cheek, the breach of trust that had been the physical proof that Curson was indeed real, he couldn't remain mad at his demon. Wary, perhaps, but not mad.
No, this was his favourite little redhead's fault, this churning feeling of guilt and betrayal. This was the little girl he had practically grown up with, that had an obsession with glitter and ribbons, that was like a little sister to him if he ever had one. This was all Tracie.
It had happened at recess. Generally there was rarely ever mixing of the big and little kids, with exception of Kyle and his little brother. The big kids kept to their own, the girls sprawled under trees, on benches, the stairs, laughing, giggling, talking, gossiping about the boys, fashion, makeup, the latest trends and events; the boys played actively, roughly, whether it be football or a daring hand of cards. The little ones played rambunctiously on the jungle gym or swings, laughing uproarishly at imaginary situations only a kid could fathom.
So it was strange to watch the breeching of acceptabilty as the young Nommel crossed the boundaries and pulled Tweek uncerimoniously from his friends. He had hide his smile behind the confused look, because this girl still so reminded him of Craig in her commanding attitude and behaviour. In just a few short years she had grown up so much, from the girl that would braid ribbon into his unruly hair, to this specter of her older brother, intelligence gleaming from darkly lit eyes. It was both unnerving and reassuring all the while.
She released her grasp on his wrist near a secluded wall, a barrier from the outside world, turning on her heels to face him. She smiled, a little apologetic, shaking her pigtails back and forth as if warring internally. At last she looked up into his confused face and motioned for him to be at ease.
"Tweek, you're my brother's best friend no matter what he says or the mean things he does. He cares a lot about you. He's just scared of himself and doesn't know how to deal with everything," she took a breath, looking down, indecision and hurt wavering in her eyes. "So he turned to this drugs, he's killing himself, and I don't like it."
The blonde was unsure what to do, had never felt that he could portray the older guardian like the other kids his age, and felt uneasy about Tracie's intentions. While she seemed distraught about the ongoings of her older brother, there was a sly intelligence that had Tweek shifting from foot to foot.
"Well," he started, rubbing his hands together, characteristically like Butters. "I don't either! I-I mean we had our fair share of fights and we fell out for a while there, but I-I don't like seeing Craig hurt or in danger or being stupid."
Tracie nodded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Intelligence was written across her face, making Tweek wary. "I know, if anyone didn't want Craig hurt, it was you. Despite all the bullshit he put you through, you would be there to the very end for my brother."
The boy bit his lip, a warning light going off in his head, making him body reverberate with tension and worry. She always was perceptive for her age, but what did Tracie know? "He's still my friend, we grew up together, I'll always be there for him," he began carefully, taking a step back. "I-I'm gonna go back to my friends now, okay?"
Before he could turn on his heel and escape, a small hand encircled his wrist in a death grip, pulling him to an immediate halt. "You liked Craig, didn't you? I mean liked like."
Tweek froze, his eyes shutting against the question. Of course he did, how couldn't he? Craig had always been there for him, accepted him with open arms despite his quirky behaviour and odd habits. Craig had taken care of him when he fell down and skinned his knee, listened to him when the world hadn't bothered, helped him socialize without fear. Craig had been his hero, his idol, the one person outside of his family and Christophe he knew he couldn't live without…and at first, he didn't think he could. And deep down, he knew his once brotherly, platonic feelings for Craig had escaladed to something romantic in nature.
With a gulped breath, he nodded, waiting for the persecution of the only person he considered a sister.
Behind his back, she smiled sadly, shaking her head, knowing just how unhealthy it was for both of them. She let her hand fall away from him as she spoke. "I know. And he likes you, too…but Craig is Craig. He's too tied up with impressing people and being the best to let himself be happy. You don't know how unnerving it is to hear your big brother cry himself to sleep days at a time because of his own personal indecision."
Tweek's heart jumped to his throat. He always knew Craig cared, but had been unsure of how deeply. But here Tracie was, giving him security and assurance of what he already knew. A small smile formed on his lips. Maybe, maybe something could work out after all…
"But he wasn't ready to see you."
Brows furrowing, heart sinking just slightly, he turned back to face her. "What do you mean?"
"He hadn't come to terms with his feelings, was too confused and when he saw you….everything just went haywire. He broke down in his own fucked up way, he turned inward and did the drugs to escape the feelings, the fact he likes you, the fact he's continuously hurting you, the fact you don't need him anymore…and I think that's what hurt him the most."
"But I-"
She shushed him with a stern look, and fingertips to his chapped lips. "No, Tweek, you don't need Craig like you did. You changed, hardened in the two years you were gone. You learned what you needed to take care of yourself, and I like to think Christophe taught you some of that. You'll always be different, but you'll never need anyone to protect you like that again.
"And Craig hates it, because deep down he knows it's his fault for turning his back on you in the first place. Deep down, he's afraid you won't want him back in your life because you don't need him in it anymore. Seeing you stand up for yourself, having gained friends with the redheaded kid and his crew without Craig, hit him hard, and he turned to the drugs, turned to what would make it not hurt anymore."
"It-it's not my fault," Tweek whispered weakly, his stomach turning in dread, shaking his head against the subtle accusations. His hands tangled in blonde curls, pulling nervously as he took a step away from Tracie, his heart in the pits of his stomach by now. "It's not my fault."
The Nommel girl smiled sadly, looking to the ground. "I know, but he's not ready. You can't be friends with him. Leave him alone, Tweeky. I love you, but I love my brother more and don't want to see him dead over you. Do what's best for Craig and leave him alone."
Tweek had run, turned tail tucked between his legs and run. His friends had left him alone to sink into oblivion, hadn't bothered to question what Tracie had had to say, knowing it'd only be worse to bring it up. Token had offered to have him over for the night, but Tweek mindlessly declined, exhausted with his constant roller-coaster of emotions. Couldn't he be happy, just once, without strings attached, without the world fucking something up? Who else did he have now?
"You still have me, sweets," Curson's sadistic purr rang, cutting through the chilling silence. Tweek pulled the blanket from his head poked out of the warmth to see the Batthingit crouched by his bed, head cocked slightly, reserved concern swirling amid the black eyes cut with searing red.
"That's not the same," Tweek pouted, eyes downcast as he drew himself into a sitting position. "You're not the same."
A frown carved into Curson's face at that, yet he shrugged it off; he would be, one day soon. It was best not to dwell. Running the back of his talons across the blonde's cheek he shook his head slow. "Perhaps not, my sweets, but should one be worth so much anguish?"
Burying his face in his arms Tweek stared at his feet. Was Craig worth this much pain? Was it worth the amount of anguish he put himself through for the raven-haired boy, time after time, with little to nothing in return? As his eyes filled with tears and fell onto the blankets beneath himself, Tweek knew, of course, that he was.
Without a word, and barely a rustle made, Curson was sitting on the bed and pulled Tweek into his arms, face steely as he ran clawed fingers gently through the blonde's hair of disarray. Soft words Tweek couldn't decipher purred across the demon's tongue, reassuringly, in a sing-song croon that he recognized only as a lullaby. He knew he shouldn't let his guard down, shouldn't trust this figment of his mind – but at that moment, Tweek let himself go and clung desperately to Curson as emotion tore through him.
It was about an hour before the sobs had turned into snotty sniffles and hiccups, another twenty minutes for the whimpering to slow and Tweek's breathing to even out as he fell into slumber. Curson felt the battering turmoil his blonde was going through thudding against his mind, the whispers of Tweek's indecision chipping away at him. Looking down at the boy, face pale, eyes swollen, hair stuck to his cheeks from crying, he considered his role, and if the slight tugging at the corner of his lips meant he was getting too close.
Carefully he unwound Tweek from his waist and slithered out from the bed, pushing the covers up around the boy's shoulders as he did, and caught a glimpse of a photo tucked beneath the array of pillows. Taking it in his claws, he looked down at a candid picture of Craig, hair a mess, cheeks flushed, looking like he had just awoke three years earlier from one of the boys' sleepover parties. Scarlet eyes narrowing ,he tucked the picture into a shirt pocket and faded dismally into the shadows creeping along with sunset, knowing exactly what his next move would be.
Soon.
-
All through supper, with his parent's watchful eyes on him, Craig had barely looked up from his plate. He felt his sister watching him, knew she could see the slight tremor of withheld anger, but he said nothing. He cleared the table, eyes on the floor, rinsed dishes, and only then let his baleful glare land on his sibling, channeling the rage with that one look, and retired to bed.
Saturday was no better. Worried about her son, Lydia had enforced a no closed-door policy, which limited Craig's need for privacy while he boiled. He lay on his bed, earbuds hidden under his hat, cranking his Rob Zombie, ignoring each and every time his mother would walk by and peek in to make sure her son was still alive.
It was aggravating. One mistake, one attempt to rid yourself of personal anguish, and they treated you like a felon. Tracie was no better….how could she break his trust? His perfect, obnoxious little shadow; his savior, when he had left Tweek years prior. If it hadn't been for his redheaded sibling, intervening with games, annoying him with glitter and crayons, knowing when he needed her silent presence most, he wasn't sure he would have survived then. When he battled walls with his fists, she was the one to ice his bruised and broken knuckles, keeping his pain a secret. When he drifted aimlessly in his mind, lost at the thought of Tweek with that prick Christophe, she had always snapped him back to reality. When he needed gifts delivered, or notes sent anonomously, she had no problem leaving them wordlessly with the Tweak's. She knew why he was so torn inside, she knew his secret longing of the blonde he had called a best friend…yet she was hurting him more, pushing Tweek away again.
Did she know? She had to – Craig had seen the guilt within her face, her eyes that could never hide how she truly felt. She was afraid for him, afraid to lose him. The redhead was right, he hadn't been ready to see Tweek that day, he hadn't prepared himself enough, and he had done something insane so he wouldn't have to deal with it again. Having survived his brazen attempts at suicide, having fought a bitter fight with himself, Tracie should know. That dealing with Tweek was maddening; to have to admit his feelings to himself, his overwhelming desire to hold onto that lithe blonde and never let go, that knowing it was his fault Tweek had a tougher exterior, that he didn't need a protector. But to push Tweek away after having him within arm's reach again, to not have him in his life at all, was unacceptable, and would drive him to his death faster than being torn and having Tweek there.
He knew what he had to do.
A storm was brewing. He could feel it in his bones, the air static with the pressure building high above. Trees swayed relentlessly in the numbing cold, clouds swirled high above, dancing back and forth to an unwritten song of nature. It seemed that the forest was empty, desolate; the animals had scurried for shelter, leaving the last of the birds fighting against the breeze to return to the safety of their nests and nooks. It was eerie, the leaves rustling and howling of the end the only noise, but he needed to keep going.
Craig pulled his scarf tighter around him, dug his hands into his pockets, and kept moving. He was determined, to get as far away from home without them knowing he had slipped away, and to get to the banks of Starkey pond. His nose ran from the cold, his cheeks burned from the wind, his eyes burned for other reasons, but he wasn't giving up. No matter what thoughts and doubts ate at his mind, he had made the call to Tweek, and he was keeping his word….something he should have done long ago.
Can we do this? Will he think different of us now? Craig gritted his teeth, wiping away the frustrated tears that threatened to give away how afraid he was. He wasn't sure if he could take Tweek not showing up, blowing him off, or writing him away as some suicidal lunatic. Craig slowed, stopped, feeling like he was hit in the gut by an invisible hand as he realized this had to be how Tweek felt when he walked away, when he confided in him about his doctor's visits. He couldn't do it, how could he face Tweek after that; how could he ask forgiveness and understanding, when he had been so careless with those same virtues?
The wind picked up as rain started to fall slowly from the unrelenting sky. Pulling fistfuls of raven hair, Craig choked back a sob, falling to his knees on the hard ground. What was he thinking? He knew he wouldn't survive himself again if Tweek didn't care to come…but how would he know if he had, if he didn't continue on? Would Tweek think it was all a prank, another low-blow by the bully Craig if he turned tail and ran now?
"Craig? Craig, what the Hell?" came the voice of his inner demon, and his angel, seeming unbelieving and at a loss. Looking up, the rain masking his tears, Tweek stood battling the wind, coffee coloured eyes looking down in concern as he huddled under a rain coat, gloved fingers peeking out of the ends. Despite the sinking feeling in his stomach, Craig couldn't help but smirk at how much smarter Tweek had been to dress appropriately for the weather.
"Craig, seriously, it's cold and wet and we're both gonna catch a cold and our deaths and d-die! What is so important?" Tweek asked breathlessly, aspirated. But underneath Craig saw concern on his wind-burned face…of what though? Being here, alone, with his greatest torment? How his mental status was, after such a close brush with Death? Or something else?
Without a word Craig pulled Tweek's coat by the front, emitting a yelp from the blonde as he stumbled over Craig and fell, hard. An ouaff sounded from his chapped lips, groaning as he pushed himselfover, ready to curse Craig with everything in him. But he didn't have the chance, and despite the swirling concerns floating through the Nommel boy's mind, he pushed Tweek down and held him there with his lips.
His heart raced, as wind and rain and emotion tore at him. He was glad for the rain, so Tweek didn't know tears were falling onto his face while he kissed the blonde, slow at first, waiting, waiting to be pushed away as fear crept on. So it was a surprise when small, awkward hands grabbed his hair and held his face, and the kiss was returned with overwhelming passion. And it stopped his heart completely, shattering his confidence when, roughly, he was pushed back onto his rear in the mud, a red faced Tweek glaring.
And he lost it. Emotion melted into anger as the hate for Tracie, hate for himself, hate for the entire situation crept on A snarl curling his trembling lips, green eyes aflame, he spit, "What, not good enough for you now?"
Before Tweek could reply Craig was on his feet, turning, running, the edges of his vision blurred as the anger fought to win control over the despair. He should have known better. He should have—
He hit the ground, groaning at the loss of breath from the weight on top of him. Without thinking, he rolled, flipping the boy that had tackled him off, pushing him away as he saw red at the ache in his ribs and the stinging of his skinned chin, having hit the cold, hard dirt. Tweek faired no better at his outburst, his hat lost on the ground, hair streaming in wet streaks down his face, hand at the back of his head that had met a tree.
"GodDAMNIT Craig, what the fuck do you even think you're doing? Or do you not stop and think for a fucking second?" he screamed.
"I think this was a big fucking mistake," he snarled in return, voice cracking at the implications of being turned away. And then it hit him, that Tweek had tried stopping him. Choking back the anger, swallowing his pride, he crawled towards Tweek, hating the uncertainty and fear that seemed to crop up in the blonde's eyes. Spitting blood to the ground from the tackle, angry at himself he lashed out, feeling his fist connect solidly, painfully, with the tree behind Tweek. Glancing up into those wide eyes he asked, "Why? Why did you stop me, Tweekers? Why do we go round and round? Why do we hurt each other?"
Tweek released the breath he was holding, looking down, away from those haunted eyes. "I don't know, Craig. Some days, it's like we're on the same page. Some days, I swear you over think everything. Somedays, it's hard to know you don't hate me. And I wonder, is it m-me? Did I do this to us? You know I love you—"
I love you. Through the fog of the drugs and sterilized hospital room, through the insanity that ate away at his mind, he remembered now, the lost little blonde at his bedside giving him his ultimatum, admitting everything.
"I'm terrible to you. I'm terrible for you."
"Cut the shit," Tweek said, cutting him off. "I think you should give me the benefit of the doubt of knowing what's good and what's not for me. Of making my own choices. Quit playing bad guy. I know how I feel, I know what I want. You are the one that doesn't."
Craig let his gaze fall; he wasn't ready for this, as steely as he had made his resolve, he just wasn't ready. He was still weak, mentally and emotionally, from everything in the last week to deal with this in a sound state. All traces of anger had vanished, and now the only thing left was the emotional turmoil he continued to find himself in. For the first time, he let Tweek see how much it hurt him, and he stopped hiding behind the cocky, arrogant persona he portrayed in the public eye. This time, there was no mistaking the tears as they swelled and fell as he looked up.
"Tweek…I need you," he broke, hiding his face in his hands as he shook, feeling empty and distant. Tweek gaped, unsure how to respond; he had never seen Craig like this, not even when his very first guinea pig had died.
"I don't want to hurt you anymore. I don't want to be hurt by you. I can't breathe, I can't sleep, knowing the awful things I've done to you. I want to scream by how confused you make me. I don't know whether I want to beat the piss out of you, or how you and never let go. I don't know how to cope when you aren't around. I want you to drown in this with me, I want you to know how I feel, and I don't want you to hurt because of me."
Craig peeled back the sleeve of his jacket and shirt to expose the deep, jagged scars on his arm. Every sleepless, pain-filled night that he had sat up, carving into himself to bleed the hurt away. To bleed the gay away. To hurt himself, knowing that he had hurt Tweek by his own cutting remarks. Thinking, just an inch longer, just a bit deeper, and it would all go away. But he had always woken in the morning with scabs, a sore arm, and no redemption.
"Damnit Craig, damnit, damnit, damnit. Why would you do that to yourself? Don't you know, seeing that hurts me?"
Lightning flashed over head, followed by a thunderous crack that deafened them both. Craig let his sleeve fall back to hide his shame. "Stop talking. Stop judging me."
Exsperated Tweek threw his hands in the air. "We're going to die out here. We're gonna get struck by lightning. We're gonna—"
"Stop. Talking."
"What do you want form me?"
Craig shook his head, rain flying form his hair as he stood, face toward the sky. It was a loaded question, and he was tired of everything already. He was emotionally exhausted. He didn't cry like this, he wasn't a pussy, but he felt so weak in Tweek's graces. He turned back to the blonde, still sitting on the ground, looking at him pleadingly as the rain pummeled them both.
"I need you to need me. I need you to need me like I need you. I need you to shut up and stop talking about stupid shit I don't give a damn about. I need you to realize that I'm so deep in this there's no getting out. I need you to know I love you."
Oh, shit. I didn't mean to say that. Too late now.
Tweek just stared, shocked. Was Craig really admitted this to him? Was he done making his life Hell, both of their lives Hell by his homophobic attitude? Slowly he got to his feet, not sure whether to run before Craig shrugged it off and decided this was too gay, or to stay and weather this emotional storm with him.
"Really?"
Tweek could tell how that went over with him when he whirled on his heels and struck the nearest tree with his already bleeding fist. Anger again. Craig spit and sputtered, pulling his hair in disbelief. "No, Tweek, I'm totally fucking joshing you. You have no idea. None. You've driven me mad for years by the things I want to do to you. No one else gets under my skin the way you do. No one. I just—"
"Prove it," Tweek taunted, but the uncertainty was written by the tremble. He got to his feet as well and pushed Craig back against the tree with shaking hands, all thoughts of death and illness gone. "Prove it to me, Craig. Show me."
That was invitation enough for him. He grabbed Tweek's coat and pulled him roughly against his body, his caramel coffee scent going straight to his head. Despite the wet clothes between them it was intoxicating feeling Tweek's lithe body against his own, as his mouth found Tweek's in a hard kiss, proving every inch of desire to him with his tongue.
Until voices over the storm had them apart in an instant.
-
"Yes, Ms. Nommel, Craig is here with us – no, no, don't worry about coming to get him, we can keep an eye on him. No, don't worry, I'm being serious, there's no need for you to risk this nasty storm, he will be fine for the night with us, and we'll run by in the morning for his school belongings. Lydia, please, it's no trouble, he's like a son to us too, we'll take good care of him," Eavan sighed into the phone, knowing her worry was justified, but knowing for some reason the boys needed to be with each other for the night. "Yes, seven-o-clock on the dot we'll be by. Have a good night, and stay warm tonight, it's suppose to get real nasty. Good night, Lydia, say hi to Thomas for me."
Eavan hung the receiver up with a sigh, pushing her frizzy hair behind her ears as she turned to look at the sopping boys sitting at the kitchen table, both looking a little flustered and hopeful. She crossed her arms, and both averted glances, knowing the 'mom' look in an instant.
"What on earth did you think you two were doing, going out in that storm? And Craig, why did you sneak out?"
He shrugged, looking nervous, stripped down to his shirt and boxers. "I don't know, I just felt….stifled in my house. I had to get out, I had to be somewhere no one was watching."
She could understand that, knowing he had been under constant scruntity from his mother since the…incident. She turned her gaze on her fidgeting son, whom faired a little better, having had a raincoat on. "What about you, mister?"
"I—"
"It was my fault," Craig intervened. "I called. I needed someone that wouldn't judge me to talk to. You're son is an amazing friend for coming out, and I'm sorry."
She nodded. "So why does it look like you two were fighting?"
Again, the nervous glances and fidgeting. "We weren't. Just tripped. Ground got slippery."
She knew excuses when she heard them, having been a kid herself at one point in time, and having raised the boys together, but she wasn't going to pry. They would both try to protect each other and end up stumbling into a bigger lie, and honestly, scrapes and bruises were nothing to worry over. With a sigh she waved them off. "Go shower and warm up, both of you, I'll make some cocoa. You know where the towels are, Craig. Off you go."
As the boys retreated, Eavan fell heavily into one of the straight-backed chairs at the kitchen table with a sigh. She knew how rough it had to be for the boys to come into contact with each other after so long, to be forced into a situation neither were ready for. But it seemed that some tension hung between them, some veiled line that neither were willing to cross. She hurt for both of them, hurt because there was very little she could do to ease their heavy hearts. She hurt, because she knew, had seen the interaction of furious turmoil that spilled from them both in the storm, a storm personified by their own emotions. She hurt, because she didn't know how to make it easier for them both to love each other without worry.
Laying her head on the table, she cried.
-
They were ushered to bed with cups of fluffy cocoa topped in marshmellows. Craig, being taller than Tweek, borrowed a pair of fleece pajama pants from Richard, and threw on one of Eavan's long-sleeved shirts. Hair in a curling disarray, leaning solidly against the window, knees tucked under his chin, he looked forlorn, and lost. The storm continued to rage outside, pelting down snow and slush as the temperatures dropped drastically with the sun having set behind the mountaintops. A soft smile curved over his lips in humor of the situation, that the weather so perfectly mirrored his own demeanor.
Tweek, meanwhile, sipped on his cocoa as he sat cross-legged at his desk, casting glances Craig's direction while he absentmindedly doodled. The air could be cut with a knife from thickening tension, each not knowing what to say, or how to even begin a conversation. It was far different from when they were carefree kids in the heyday of sleepovers.
Flicking his gaze Tweek's direction, Craig smiled. "Still afraid of what could be on the floor, huh?" he asked, nodding towards Tweek's raised feet.
"W-well, yeah. Some things stay the same, y'know," he squeaked in reply, dropping the pencil in his hand to the desk and turning to face his ex bestfriend. "I guess, not us though."
The raven-haired boy laughed, the sound the same familiar purr it had always been. Well, that was something at least. "No, I guess not us, Tweeky. Wanna talk about it?"
Unsure of the correct answer, Tweek nodded slowly. Here, in this familiar place where very little had changed over the years, he seemed more at ease, less prone to outburst like the forest. Here, maybe Tweek could get some answers. "I think, maybe we should."
Craig nodded in acknowledgement, grabbed his cocoa off the night stand, threw a blanket across his lap, and settled in for the long haul. He flicked his gaze in the direction of a few stuffed toys on Tweek's well-kempt bed. Coffee-colored eyes followed where he was looking, and fell on a worn mole toy. "Did you love him?" Craig asked, voice mild and even, but his face told otherwise.
Tweek shrugged, running his trembling hand through his hair. "Yes, no, I mean, I did—but in a different way. Christophe came into my life when I needed someone understanding, someone different like me, that couldn't judge. He was my stability when no one else was there." Keeping his eyes on Craig, he saw the pain flash across his face, that he tried to hide by turning to gaze into the blackness outside the window. "Christophe was a good friend. He is a good friend, and I miss him, a lot. But he was just my friend. He isn't like you."
A nod. "He didn't force you to be homeschooled because of the shitty things he said, and did, to you."
Blonde locks flew as he shook his head vigorously. "No, Craig, you weren't the reason. I mean…it was coincidence. Mom had talked with the admin at school, and everyone agreed, since I had so many doctor's trips and missed so much school, it would be better to be homeschooled. This way, no one had to worry what effects the medication I was bounced around on may do to me."
Craig took that in. Was he lying? No, Tweek wouldn't lie, he was a terrible liar and knew it. So it wasn't his fault, but…."But it wasn't easy, because of me."
That, Tweek looked at the floor for. He wouldn't, couldn't lie to Craig. This was the time to put everything on the table; he had to be completely honest. "You're right, it wasn't. I had one friend at that time. I felt like no one cared. That, after everything, I didn't mean anything. It was hard, because so often I missed you and the guys. So often, I would find myself hoping someone would come by. But no one ever did. But what's done is done. How was it on you?"
Craig snorted back a sarcastic laugh as he motioned to his arm that adorned the scars Tweek had seen earlier. He sipped his cocoa, trying to steady his hands as he thought about it. "No, it wasn't easy for me. With the guys, it wasn't so bad—I always kinda looked around for you, because it felt uneven ,just being us three. But when I was alone, I went crazy. I found myself dialing your number and hanging up. Coming by the house, and running before I got to the door. I found myself sending Tracie by to make sure you were still alive. At night, I wouldn't sleep, thinking about the wrong I did you, how much I missed you." He stopped, turning his diamond-like stare on the unnerved blonde. It was then he noticed Craig's lip was bleeding from having been bit as he thought to himself. "But I was too much of a pussy to admit it, I was too much of a pussy to fix it. And it haunted me."
They were getting somewhere, and Tweek continued to push, because he knew he may never get the chance again. "Why were you so shocked to see me on the bus then?"
Again, that coy laugh, like the answer was obvious. "Tweek, you just don't get it. I knew you'd be there, I tried preparing myself with mental exercises and shit, but the moment you stepped on that bus it was like being sucker punched by years of shame and guilt. It was like seeing my other half for the first time in ages, and not knowing what to do. I hated you for making me feel that way, so vulnerable, when you weren't. I hated that I wanted to hurt you for being there. Most of all, I hated that everyone else had to be there as well."
Tweek took that in and tried to decipher it. He understood, but he couldn't wrap his mind around it. That a boy that was so cruel, that continued to push him away, could be so willing to talk now. "Why did you call me today?"
"Tracie," Craig said in bitter disgust, remembering why, and trying to stamp down the anger he felt. "She told me she talked to you. And I thought, and I realized, that I would rather be torn and confused and unsure about everything, then have you ignore me and practically not exist again. It almost killed me once, I wasn't going to let it happen again."
Getting cold at his desk, Tweek tiptoed to his bed and jumped in at the last moment, to avoid any monsters that may drag him deep under the bed. He wrapped up in a blanket as he pondered. This Craig was more like his old Craig, but different, and he wasn't sure whether he liked it or not. Fiddling with the dogtags around his neck, he sighed. "Why do you push me away, then? Why do you constantly hurt me, Craig?"
Anger at being on blast, he expected, but Tweek wasn't ready for Craig to sink in on himself and wring at his hair, or the desperation and confusion that seemed to cross his face. "I don't want to. I just, I don't want to be that guy, Tweek?"
"What guy Craig?"
"The gay guy!" he exclaimed, hiding his face all the while. "I was raised to know it's wrong. That we are sinners and are going to Hell. I have Red….and I care for her, but she doesn't drive me to the brink of madness like you. It's thrilling, it's intoxicating, what you do to me without even trying. Your crazy hair, your crazy ramblings, those eyes like melted caramel, the ever-present bitter smell of coffee on you." He unfurled his fist, drove it into a clover-shaped pillow, gritting his teeth as the words fell off his tongue. Without thinking, he threw the blanket off his lap and let his gaze fall downwards. "Do you see this? Just talking about it, talking about you is making my body react this way," he said, emphasizing his lower-region.
Tweek averted his gaze, his cheeks flushing furiously at the implication. He wouldn't let Craig change the subject. "So you're ashamed of me," he stated, voice cracking from his own emotion.
The Nommel boy angrily made his way to the bed and pushed Tweek back against the wall by his shoulders and he knelt over him. The look in his eyes was fury, steeped in lust and something more. "Does it look like I'm ashamed of you, Tweekers?"
When he still refused to look, Craig took his hand and placed it where he burned the most. Tweek squeeked, face now a steady shade of scarlet, heart pounding in his ears, breathing hitched. But he wasn't going to let Craig daunt him. "Maybe not here where you're comfortable, but, but out in public, where our friends are….yes, Craig, you're ashamed\."
Thankfully for Tweek, he pulled away and sat as far as possible while remaining on the bed, looking torn once more. His hands fell heavy in his lap, and Tweek realized there were tears now. "I wish I wasn't," he said, slowly, voice unsure of itself. "But you're right. I'm not ready to admit it to anyone. I finally admitted it to you, isn't that enough for now?"
Tweek heard the plea and carefully wiped Craig's emotion away, nodding slightly. How could he ask anything else of his friend? He had made progress so far, anything more would be rushing, and may hurt him in the end. He placed his hand over Craig's, entwining their fingers with a small smile. "It's enough, Craig. You know my condition, though. You know who you have to tell."
He nodded while looking at his breathtaking blonde – his blonde, a better person than he ever could be, and was amazed that he could forgive and forget so easily, that no matter what he put him through, Tweek always swept it under the rug and muddled through. Without thinking, he pulled Tweek into a kiss, unsure at first, until a soft moan had him nibbling those cocoa-flavored lips. He pushed Tweek back on the bed with one motion, his shirt coming off with another. Tweek squealed, the flush creepy back up his face at the sly, lusty look Craig gave him.
"What are you doing?" he hissed quietly, knowing any minute his mother or father would burst in for humilities sake.
Craig merely pinned his hands above his head and kissed him again, this time a little rougher, the unrestrained emotion flowing from his trembling form. He kissed and nibbled down Tweek's jawline, ignoring the squeaks of uncertainty and whispered, "You asked me to prove I need you. Well listen up, Tweekers boy—" he ground himself against Tweek, emitting a small groan from the body beneath him "—I need you."
"I—I don't know," Tweek protested not trusting himself as Craig licked and kissed his neck, one hand releasing his own to train to the buttons of his night shirt. "I—I've never done this."
"So tell me to stop and I will. But I need to know or I'm going to go crazy, Tweek. Do you need me too?"
Tweek pushed him back, laying his hands against his chest, nervousness making them shake uncontrollably. He had fooled around with Craig before in the bathroom, this was no different, right? His answer was a chaste kiss and entwined fingers that would turn into bitten pillows and muffled moans deep into the night.
-
Wind howling outside, snow falling in a flurry beyond the window, air thick with fulfilled passion, crimson eyes watched the lovers sleep curled around each other. Each boy with his own chosen path, each boy with his own unique quirks and hidden demons. Each boy, at ease in rest for the first time in a very long while. But that would not always be the case, given time, and actions played by a skilled puppeteer. Pointed teeth flashed menacingly from the shadows that hid bad intentions. For now they could enjoy each other, but come morning, he knew as he watched the tangled skeins of their internal thoughts, it would all change.
A/N: What the fucckkkkk? I'm updating? Whatttttttt? Couple of things:
1) this is short and awkward, I know. I was trying to motivate myself to start finishing this story, which is harder then it sounds. Also, I had to scrap the original idea because it was too childish (six years later) and do something that would get the ball rolling.
2) It has been six years, if some of the character detail is off (eye color, name spellings, blahblahblah) don't blame me.
3) Uh...sorry it's been so long? I look when it was last updated (06) and here it is, 2012...whoops. Life gets in the way. I'm no longer a highschool student with extra time; I work fulltime, am a fulltime nursing student, and have a toddler running around destroying things. The fact I even got this chapter out is a miracle made by coffee and energy drinks. So...don't expect updates, but I'll try. Working this chapter out got me mildly motivated to try getting through it, 'cuz boy, there is still a huge wild ride that's gonna go down in this here biznatch.
Until next time, Corrie out