Sitting in a lonely corner of his calculus classroom, the lecture of derivatives sliding through his head and sticking without effort, Craig with his cheek in his palm doodled on a piece of graph paper aimlessly, tracing elaborate curves and filligree across the tedious boxes. He barely registered the quick scrawls of pencils across paper as the teacher droned on about rules of constants, barely saw any one other that the back of a mussed-up brunette's head that chewed relentlessly on the end of a gnarled pen, a brunette he wanted to strangle and leave bloody in a ditch somewhere.
When Craig had watched his favorite blonde run numbly out from the circled arms of the Mole at the dance, a small fire had been built in his heart as a smile played across his coy lips. It was a turning point, that Tweek denied the Frenchmen so. A point in which the Tucker boy had thought that, perhaps, he was close enough to swoop in and steal his blonde back.
That was, until, feeling stifled in the crowded gymnasium he had wandered out into the crisp air and down by the parking lot with a cigarette between his lips, and caught sight of the two silhouettes in the moonlight, locked together at the lips, trademark spiked blonde hair caching fire in the brilliant moonlight that danced high above in the clear blue orbit.
He could have taken the easy way out and accepted Christophe's terrible forfeit. He could have taken the win by default, could have walked away with the golden-haired prize...but that wasn't the way of Craig Tucker. No, he wanted the win to mean something, wanted the win to sweep the blonde off his feet and into his arms once more without regret, without any sense of pain or need or resentment harbored.
And he knew Tweek still cared by the exhausted, tight-lipped apology of attempted reputation ruining. Knew the blonde still stoked a smoldering fire within by the bright pink cheeks he had left standing in the school's parking lot after the subtle striking kiss and chaste admittance of his own feelings. Knew it would take more than the silky-tongued French bastard to stifle years of cat and mouse, years of tortured emotions, years of breaking away and falling together like a twisted puzzle time and time again. Because as sick and non-traditional of a relationship and a love they had, it was one that burrowed deep and suffocating - a love Craig would never admit kept him up until the morning hours reeling over in his head as every sane person slept sound.
"Craig, what's the rule of derivatives?" a stampish voice asked, a wrinkled hand on the hip of the teacher.
"Derivatives tell us the slope of a function at any point," he rattled off aimlessly, green eyes making eye contact with the teacher before flicking to the calm, cool mercury gaze of his nemesis.
Huffing indignantly, the teacher turned back to the white board and scrawled an incredible function across of it, but Craig had by then tuned out once more as he stealthily removed his phone from his pocket, a small smile playing across his lips as he unlocked he screen and saw a photo of Tweek sipping coffee under the faerie lights of the shoppe's decor pop up. He swallowed back the sudden feeling that jerked through his chest like a cross bolt as he opened up a familiar text conversation and typed in "meet me by the truck after class i need your help".
...
Craig wasn't sure he would show up, as he gathered his beat up spiral bound notebook into his stained and drawn upon backpack and waded through the masses as the final bell sounded overhead. After all, it was short notice, and he didn't necessarily get a reply for his message. He had watched as his phone alerted him that a reply was being typed...but Tweek must have changed his mind and decided against it, as the text conversation remained empty and one-sided.
Blowing air from his mouth in a sigh, Craig circled around to the back hallway where the music room was located, a large acoustically inclined place that the band sometimes practiced at during lunch hours on nights of performances. He opened the door absently, stopping in his tracks with a brow raised as he caught another lithe blonde with earbuds popped in, bobbing along to a rhythm he paced on a beat up acoustic guitar, voice hitting incredible notes that sent a shiver down his spine.
"So I cross my heart and hope to die, that I only stay with you one more night/and I know I've said it a million times, but I only stay one more night."
Craig watched, not noticing his lips turning upward as the blonde picked along to a tune only he could hear behind the head phones, eyes closed as he crooned along to the music only he could hear. As Kenny's voice faded off and the last note hummed resolution, Craig clapped his hands together, startling the singer.
"Holy shit, Craig! Don't do that," the blonde breathed as he held a hand to his chest as adrenaline coursed through him, pulling the head phones from his ears. "Jesus, man. I thought I was alone."
"I noticed," Craig mused as he wandered over to his locker and pulled out his guitar, swinging the instrument over one shoulder as he glanced at the questioning gaze of his friend. "You should really consider doing a few solo pieces. I don't know if you've ever heard yourself, dude, but you're pretty damn amazing."
Kenny shrugged gracefully as he shoved his messy locks under a trucker hat. "I dunno, man, that's a lot of pressure."
"Well, I'd support you," Craig said nonchalantly as he caught the gaze of those blue eyes staring at him. "Anyway, I've got to run...got another blonde waiting for me."
"Working things out with Tweek finally?" Kenny asked as he tucked his guitar into the soft case at his feet, raising a pierced brow with the question.
"Probably not, don't think you're getting away from me that easily," Craig replied smugly with a shrug of his own as he grabbed the boy's ragged backpack off the floor and lead the way out into the hallway.
"I didn't know I was trying," Kenny finally replied as he took the offered bag and slung it over his shoulders, face turned downward to the beat up linoleum of the hallway. Craig raised a brow in question at the conflicted look plastered on his singer's face as he stepped to the school's entrance, pausing briefly at the double doors. He was very aware of the few students milling about, pulling final things from lockers, taking the long way around to after school clubs and sports, when he grabbed the blonde's stubbly chin in his hand and brushed light lips against the chapped ones of Kenny.
"That's true. And that's okay with me," Craig said when he pulled back, fighting the smile at the growing shade of peach that burned on Kenny's cheeks at the girlish gasping giggles down the hall at the motion. "It's nice to see even the brass Kenny McCormick gets embarrassed."
"I hate you," the blonde sputtered with furrowed brows as the brunette pushed open the doors with a smirk.
He had to admit, he wasn't sure where the bold move had come from. Whether it was for the feigned image of their proposed relationship as rockers, or what, it sent a small shiver down his spine at the contact. But he didn't have time to think on what all that entailed when he caught sight of a frowning blonde leaning against his truck with his arms crossed, suspiciously glancing around as he hugged his thick coat around himself, scarf tied into a delicate knot at his throat that looked like the handiwork of Bebe.
Those hazel eyes turned guarded the moment they landed on Craig as he strode down the front steps and out to the parking lot. He was thankful that a quick scan of the lot proved that the intimidating black truck that belonged to the Mole was nowhere to be seen.
"You know, when you say you want to see me after class, I wasn't expecting to be waiting here fifteen minutes for you," Tweek spat, eyes narrowed as he glared, nose wrinkled in anger.
Craig fought back the smile that played on his face at how Tweek tried - and failed - to look mad. Unlocking his door he chucked his backpack into the backseat and carefully settled his guitar along the floor board. "Sorry, I lost track of time."
Rolling his eyes, Tweek huffed. "That's not unusual."
He cocked his hip as he leaned against the truck, looking down at the furious looking blonde. "I said sorry. Anyway, I need your help."
Tweek snorted. "With what? You're like, five times smarter than I am in all subjects. You're more athletic. You're musically inclined. What could I offer to you, Craig?"
He raised a brow suggestively, causing a pink tint to creep up the blonde's face. "Not getting into that...it's Tracie's sweet sixteen this weekend, and she's going out and doing girlie things, like starting with a crazy female sleepover party at her friend's house after school tomorrow, but I wanted to do something special and make a cake. But we all know, I could burn water. I need help."
"When?"
"Now. Like I said, she's not even coming home tomorrow."
"Oh my god, Craig, the pressure! Do you even have a recipe?" Tweek asked, flailing his hands to make a point.
"Nope."
"Oh my god," the blonde moaned, running his hands over his face dramatically. "You are awful. It's a good thing I've been wanting to try out a recipe I found on pinterest."
"So you'll help then," Craig said rather than questioned, a fleeting smile passing across his lips as the blonde groaned at the implications. "Good, let's go then."
It seemed like ages to Craig the last time the blonde had ridden in the truck with him, nestled onto the cold leather of the early winter air that chilled them deep. It was habit that flipped the radio over to Tweek's favorite, it was instinct that steered with his left while his right hand reached over and caught Tweek's fingers in his own. It made everything that had transpired seem to melt away and pieces begin to fall into place, until the short gasp caught him off guard and he pulled his hand away.
"Sorry...routine," he mumbled as he pulled into the grocer's store, internally beating himself for being so stupid and slipping so easily back into their old habits.
"It's-it's okay. Habits die hard," the blonde mumbled, flustered as he dug into his pocket and pulled open his phone to search the recipe.
Craig wasn't there in the market as he obediently followed the peckish blonde around with a basket tucked on his elbow, collecting the ingredients for the cake he so desperately needed for his baby sister, he was deep in his mind. Riding along back mountain dirt roads, the blonde bouncing up and down nervously at each rut, short fingernails digging into the back of Craig's hand; nestled to his chest, his jacket wrapped around them both to fight off the autumn chill as they watched the sunset over a cliff on his tailgate; kissing the blonde deep the first time after admitting how deep his feelings ran..
He barely registered handing over a twenty dollar bill and only receiving seventy-eight cents in return, of the sheepish look on Tweek's face as he tucked a bag of gummy worms into his jacket pocket rather than leaving it in the grocer bag. Barely registered getting in the truck and driving back to Tweek's house, until the blonde rapped on his window with a concerned look on his face.
"Earth to Spaceman Craig? Come in, Spaceman Craig."
Lips turning upward in a smile, eyes softening, he opened up the door and grabbed his guitar as he followed the blonde up to the door with the bag of ingredients in his arms. "You haven't called me that since we were kids," the brunette mused as he kicked his beat up Converse off at the doorway and followed the blonde into the welcoming kitchen, warm with orange zest and cinnamon oil placed on the window ledge.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," the blonde replied nonchalantly as he pulled a pyrex mixing bowl out from the pantry, measuring cups and spoons, cake pans, cake spatulas and an electric mixer. "You going to help?"
"Of course. What are we making, anyway?"
"Cherry cordial chocolate cake," Tweek said proudly, face lighting up at the prospect. "Now come here and measure that cake flour and cocoa."
It was amazing at how focused Tweek was when he was in the kitchen, tongue stuck between his clamped teeth as he measured vanilla and baking powder, as he whipped chocolate butter creme frosting together with cherry juice with quick expert flicks of the wrist. Admirable, even, Craig thought as the blonde tasted the frosting, stuck his tongue out in distaste and added a dash of almond extract.
"It's crazy to think Tracie is going to be sixteen. It's like just yesterday that girl was putting bows in my hair and trying to paint my nails," Tweek said with a thoughtful smile as he rested his hip on the counter and turned, leaving the bowl of frosting sitting unattended.
"It sure is crazy how time flies, and how things change," Craig said as he leaned over his guitar, plucking strings and turning dials at each sound that was off to his ear.
"I hope you got her something special."
"Some froofy dress she'd been eyeing online for the last month. I swear, there's visible drool stains from her on the computer desk. Girls, I'll never understand them," he admonished, shaking his head at the thought of the strawberry blonde that plagued his existence.
They settled into quiet company of one another as Tweek carefully extracted the two cakes from the hot pan and painted his cherry glaze over top with delicate strokes, and Craig plucked at his guitar idly, humming under his breath to some invisible tune only he seemed to catch. A tune that caught in the back of his throat, made his eyes burn as his fingers plucked the chords by themselves and the words spilled from his mouth as if his tongue had a mind of its own.
"There are many things I'd like to say to you, but I don't know how/'cuz maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me/cuz afterall, you're my wonderwall."
Tweek dropped the brush with a clatter to the counter as Craig let the words of the first song he had ever sang to Tweek, the first song them had ever made love to, the first song hat Craig had ever torturously called theirs fall from his lips.
"Wh-what, why?" was all Tweek could manage to say, shaking his head back and forth as his heart pounded in his chest, the memories swelling like a rising tide.
"I don't know," Craig said as he dropped his pick to the floor and dug his palms into his eyes, shaking his head back and forth as if it would erase the flash of images in his mind's eye. Sitting precariously close by Stark's Pond, sharing ear buds on a log, skipping rocks across the water as young kids while the sun blared down on them in the long afternoon winter. Scrolling through songs, stopping at a particularly catchy tune that the two would bob heads to. The later it became, the heavier the blonde's head would seem to fall, until he was nestled against Craig's shoulder, drowsiness pulling at his tired eyes. So the Tucker boy thought nothing of it as he sung along to the next song - the same song - and sheepishly caught the blonde's gloved hand in his own. But Tweek, Tweek had known.
Sleepovers with boys probably would have been weird at the age of sixteen, if they hadn't been best friends for years, despite the distance they had placed between them as they hide their emotional turmoil for one another. But as it burst to life that they both felt the same, they were inseparable. And repressed, wound tight from the sudden surge of emotional unrestraint. So the first time Craig ran his tongue gingerly along the scars marking up and down the blonde's arms, shaking with control as he clothes disappeared among his wildly messy bed, the same song echoed from his discarded iPod on the floor under their attire.
"Damnit, I don't know," Craig cursed, pulling at his hair in an attempt to rid himself of the images that so vividly stayed. For the first time since he had first discovered those jagged cuts and pearly scars drizzling down his friend's arms, tears sprung into his eyes and dripped down his face.
"Motherfucker, I must hate myself a little for doing this to myself," he echoed miserably, shoulders shaking with restraint to keep the emotions from breaking free completely.
"Oh my god, Craig, are you crying?" he heard the blonde ask before he felt those shaking fingers on his hands, pulling them forcibly away from his wet eyes. "Shit, you are."
"Fuck off," he mumbled, desperately lost, knowing it was futile to try to hide, to try to cover the tears tracking down his cheeks unrelentlessly, a traitor of the echoing emptiness that stung like acid deep within.
"I just, I don't, I don't get it, Craig. Why now?"
He pushed the blonde away and got up, wiping the wetness from his face with his sleeve, hands entangling in his hair to drive the pain away as he paced small circles in the delicious smelling kitchen. "Y'know, remembering how goddamn close we were for so many years, so easily just falling into the routine we had in the truck, and now being absolutely nothing? It fucking sucks, Tweek. It sucks really bad. And t hurts like Hell. That I'm so easily replaceable."
"You aren't replaceable," the blonde finally said, hazel eyes downcast as he rung his hands together like a nervous tic. "I could never replace you, Craig, you're such an engrained, integral part of my life. Here, I'll prove it," the blonde said, slipping his phone off the counter and flipping into his gallery where he typed in a code and opened a hidden folder...and folder containing candid selfies of them over the years. "Every now and again, I look through this, and remember each and every occasion that the picture was caught at. And guess what? It hurts me too."
"Then why the Hell aren't we doing anything about it?" Craig asked, throwing his hands in the air, feeling ridiculous as he turned his clear meadow eyes on the blonde. "Why are we doing this to ourselves?"
"Because...because it isn't just about us anymore, Craig. And I'm sorry for that. Man, you have no idea how much I wish there was an easy solution to this," the blonde said, pulling at his own hair. "But there isn't, not until we figure out what we want."
"I know what I want, you're the one so aptly confused," Craig grumbled, feeling himself turn red as anger boiled as the backlash of the emotional restraint that crashed down. "All I want is you, to love me the way you did."
"And I want you to but-" Tweek paused, gaze looking down at his phone that buzzed in his hand, once, twice-a sigh escaping his lips at the harsh look Craig threw his way-three before, "Hi, Chris."
"Answering on three, zat ez strange for you, Spazz. Ez everyzing okay?"
"Yeah, just elbow deep in cake frosting," he lied, breath hitching just enough.
"You're lying."
"Cuz he's enjoying being balls deep in my mouth right fucking now!" Craig yelled, receiving a smoldering glare in response that turned the blonde's face a fushia color.
A mere chuckle was the response. "Ah, yes, I see. Well, I suppose I will let you finish zen, Spazz. Good to know you 'aven't been murdered. I will call you later."
"You're so childish," Tweek smoldered as he clicked the phone off, glaring at the boy pacing tight circles in his kitchen. "Was that really necessary?"
"Was answering that fucking prick in the middle of a deep conversation really that important? I see how far I rank."
"Or, if I hadn't answered, genius, he would have been here in less than five minutes to figure out why. He knew you were coming home with me, moron," Tweek retorted, rolling his eyes as he grabbed a spatula and started frosting the cake. "You rank pretty damn high in my book for me to drop everything and make your baby sister a cake on short notice."
"Just not high enough to be with," the boy replied angrily, crossing his arms over his chest as he leveled a glared on the back of the blonde's head. God, this is why he hated emotions, there was no grey zone, just intense black and bright blinding white. He couldn't hurt without being angry and finding blame.
"Don' twist my words!" Tweek snarled, turning on his heel and leveling a finger directly into Craig's chest. "I never said that."
"Then prove otherwise," the boy taunted, eyes rimmed red from the exhaustion and effort it took to feel so much.
"I can't!" Tweek said as he slid to the floor. "I fucking can't, Craig, and goddamnit, I wish I could, and hat tears me apart. It fucking tear me apart wanting so badly to kiss you and hold you, because I feel so goddamn infinite with Christophe. And it hurts like a bullet hole I'm with him, and images flash in my mind of you that so strongly compel me to want you in my arms. I can't so much as kiss you, Craig, because I know what will happen, I know I'll drown in the feeling, I know I'll want you so deep it hurts," the blonde sobbed, covering his face with his hands as his shoulders shook.
Craig stopped dead, all anger melting away as he fell to his friend's side, pulling the boy close, hating himself more than ever as the sight of the blonde in tears clawed at his stomach and made him sick. Because he did this, he caused this hurt.
"Shit, Tweek, I'm sorry. This isn't what I wanted...this isn't what I intended. I just...fuck, I'm so sorry."
For the first time in years, the tears poured soundlessly as they both held each other like a safety net in the rising tides threatening to pull them under.
...
The next day seemed to drag for the dark-circled sleeplessly lost. The blonde wandered aimlessly through the halls to classes, existed merely as a check mark on roll call than as an engaged student. He took notes without the information sticking, listened to lectures that drifted through his head and back out as he remained lost deep in his thoughts. Thoughts that tumbled dizzingly between the cool mercury eyes of a mercenary and the pleading green orbs of his friend.
He barely noticed the looks he received in passing, the concerned looks of a brunette, the questioning hazel eyes of a blonde beauty on the outskirts of his vision, the miserably conflicted face of a freckled blue-hatted boy. He drifted as he watched the world behind a film as he travelled into the depths of the raw sewage of emotions that trapped him.
Craig was bad for him, infinitely, despite their extended history. He was cruel, careless, reckless with the blonde's fragile emotions, had proven time and time again his image was first and foremost under society pressures. And yet, he had seen a sensitive, raw side that very rarely cracked the cold exterior of the Tucker boy when he had broken down in his kitchen the evening before. It was shocking, and unreal, realizing how tortured his raven-haired friend was under the sarcastic demenor he showed every other day. How deep he seemed to truly care.
But there was Christophe, his savior for months when he had been in a dark place, the boy that made his heart skip and his cheeks pink by a mere heated look sent his way. His best friend, that had done nothing to hurt him before, that had done nothing to question his loyalty, that had been nothing but the absolute best. The boy he had stopped Craig's vicious tirade for, because he knew in some solitary part of his mind what, and who, was best for him.
At the sound of the bell, Tweek gathered up his stuff and bolted from the room before the others could barely move. He was desperate to escape the confines of the school and settle into his mind-numbing routine at the coffee shoppe, doing what he moved and making people smile with his service. It was only halfway to the main doors that he realized, as a shiver ran down his spine, that he had forgotten his jacket back in the room.
"Damnit," he mumbled to himself as he turned backfighting the current of students trying to escape on a Friday afternoon. Giving up, he doubled down the language arts hallway, taking the scenic route against fighting his way back to the classroom.
"Tweek? Hey, you left your jacket in your hurry," came the nasally voice of his torment that stopped him dead as he looked up, seeing Craig standing a few feet away with his green canvas jacket in his big hands.
"Y-yeah, how'd you know I'd come this way?" the blonde asked as Craig draped his jacket over him, a wave of heat washing over him from the pit of his stomach as the particular scent of Craig wrapped around him.
He shrugged. "You hate people, and I guess I just know you. Oh, hey, thanks for helping me yesterday. You should have seen the way Tracie's eyes lit up seeing that cake."
"I'd do anything for that girl, you know that," Tweek said as he hiked his messenger bag up on his shoulder, trying to forget everything about yesterday except packing up the delicious cake and sending it off with Craig.
"I know," Craig said as he leaned a shoulder against a locker, averting his eyes. "I'm sorry for everything else. I don't know what happened to bring that on, and I shouldn't have let myself get that far out of control. I know where you stand."
"It's okay-"
"No, it's not," Craig said firmly as he shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets, looking up at the blonde. "I'm sorry for not being what you need right now. It sucks, but maybe you're right, maybe we both need to find ourselves first."
Hands ringing together painfully, Tweek looked to the ground. "I'm sorry, Craig. Because-because I do love you. And I will, but...you need to love yourself, too."
Craig smiled weakly at that, a hand lifting the blonde's face from the ground. It felt like his heart was shattered, burning into ashes, chest tight as he swallowed hard. "I know. Thanks, Tweek," he said before letting his feelings take control as he leaned down, catching those coffee flavored lips with his own just as a husky brunette in a varsity jacket with the last name Donovan stitched into the back rounded the corner, brown eyes widening huge at the sight, mouth hanging open in shock.
A/N: Notable songs! The one Kenny was singing is "One More Night," by Maroon 5, because I imagine his playlist has a little sprinkle of everything on it, kinda like mine. The song Craig sang is "Wonderwall," by Oasis. So, now what? Who knew Craig could feel so much, man, I sure as Hell wasn't expecting that. And uh oh. Clyde saw! What's to come on the next episode of Clear Skies? Let's find out together! xoxox Corrie