South Park © Matt & Trey.
To the anon who asked about the POV, yes it's all going to be in Stan's. This will be a relatively short fic :)
Anywhooo, thanks for all the nice reviews!
The following week, Kenny looks smug and satisfied as he joins me at the lunch table.
"What did you do on the weekend?" I ask him, somewhat afraid to find out.
Kenny smiles and then visibly tries to stifle it. "I got a boyfriend."
"Oh, wow!" I exclaim, feeling happy for him. "Who is it and how did it happen?"
Not like I don't already know, but I'll let him tell the story.
"Craig," he says with a laugh. "It all started when he brought over a bottle of rum…"
"And…?" I pry expectantly, not entirely shocked.
"We finished the bottle and we were both pretty wasted," he adds quietly. "I guess he thought my parents would care if they saw it so he asked what we should do with it. I kind of joked around and said he could shove it up his ass, but then Craig grabbed the bottle and actually did shove it up his ass! He gave me quite a show."
My jaw drops to the floor and then I start to laugh somewhat nervously. "You guys belong together. You're both depraved."
"That's exactly what I was thinking, too," Kenny chuckles. "It was probably the alcohol…" he adds, shrugging. "Anyway, I didn't actually touch him. I just watched. I want us to be sober when we screw. We kind of spoke about it the morning after. He looked kind of embarrassed but I told him not to be. Then I asked him to go with me. He said yes. So, here's to modern romance."
I stare at him in disbelief. "That's insane!"
Kenny always gets what he wants – or, rather, who he wants. If he sets his sights on someone, he manages to get into their pants sooner or later.
"What does Craig think of your career choice?" I pry.
"He doesn't like it," Kenny admits, "but he also recognizes that it's work and he said he'd try and separate it. If he can't… I'd be okay with having an open relationship with him."
"You wouldn't quit being a sex worker?" I ask.
He shakes his head.
When Kyle finds us, Kenny regales him with the story he just told me. Kyle laughs and cringes.
"Anyway, I'm going to go find him!" Kenny decides, taking a few more bites of his sandwich before sauntering off.
I can feel Kyle watching me. I don't really know why. I'm not going to ask him. Instead, I'll let him do the asking… because I know there's clearly something on his mind. It always goes like this.
"You okay?" he asks after a few minutes.
"Of course," I insist, turning my head to look at him while I bite on an apple. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Kyle shrugs his shoulders. "You do this thing where you distract yourself by immersing yourself in everyone else's problems. You help other people when you can't even help yourself. Maybe it makes you feel better… I don't know. It's just something I've noticed."
I know he's right. I won't even bother trying to deny it.
"It's easier this way," I murmur. "Thinking about it hurts too much and when the shame and humiliation begins to set in again it drives me fucking crazy with self-disgust… and I'd rather not feel that way. So, yeah, I avoid thinking about it and maybe in turn I avoid coping… but I don't really want to think about it, even if that means I'll never properly cope." I pause and stare at him. "How would you cope with it?"
"I don't know," he whispers.
"No one has any right to tell me what I'm doing is wrong," I say with finality. "Maybe I'll never be able to cope with it, so it's pointless to try."
"You don't know that," Kyle tries to reason.
"I don't want to waste my time being sad over something I can't change," I decide. "I can't even think of anything more fucked up than what happened to me. I literally experienced the worst thing I could possibly think of and they didn't even grant me the mercy of death when it was over. So, I have to keep living… and I'm going to do it the way I want, so stop trying to get me to cope the right way. It is what it is, right?"
Kyle looks guilty. "You're right," he relents quietly. "I'm sorry. I just… I want you to be happy."
I let out a bitter laugh at the sheer unfamiliarity of it. "Yeah, well… I don't think that'll ever truly happen. Maybe I'll have moments where I'm happy, but it won't last too long. That's probably the best I can hope for at this point."
"Do I help you or do I hurt you?" Kyle asks out of the blue.
"You don't help me or hurt me, Kyle," I tell him honestly. "You can't save people. The best you can do is not make things worse… and you don't. You don't make things worse."
"Good," he whispers.
"Hey, um…" I start, "would you be interested in coming to my next therapy session with me?"
Kyle looks somewhat surprised that I'm asking, but nonetheless he says, "Yeah, of course! I'm honoured you'd even ask, dude."
I offer him a small smile. "I want you there. I think it'll give us a chance to hash some things out."
"Like what?" he pries.
I shrug. "Not sure, probably stuff we aren't even aware that we need to talk about."
Kyle chuckles and says, "Yeah, probably. Therapists can be good mediators."
It's the weekend now.
I got cornered in an underground parking lot on Friday while shopping in a Denver mall. I was trying to find my mom's car because she was coming to meet me. Nothing physical happened. I didn't get mugged or beat on. I guess the guys just wanted to scare the shit out of me because I'm small and young and that pack mentality loves to prey on the weak. So, they shouted at me. I even cried about it and they laughed. I don't even know why I try to venture out alone at this point. I seem to attract this kind of crap. I don't know why guys do shit like this. I always hear horror stories about it happening to girls I know. They get cornered in the streets or cars speed by and shout lewd things. It's really fucked up. My mom apologized a million times when she finally arrived. I told her it was fine and then we got smoothies.
It's Saturday now and I call Wendy over. I make tea – since I know she doesn't like coffee – and then I tell her about what happened to me last night.
"Stan, don't think I'm trashing your gender," she starts. "Men are beautiful and lovely, but they can also be the opposite and they do it in high statistics when it comes to things like that."
"I know," I agree softly. "Trust me, I know."
"They will prey on women and smaller men," she continues, "I honestly have no idea why. I think there are a lot of reasons and we can't just go ahead and say it's one thing when it's a lot of things. I think hypermasculinity plays a huge part in it. That shit is so toxic."
"Yeah," I agree again. "I'm glad my parents never perpetuated it. I'd probably be even more fucked up than I already am."
She gives me a sympathetic look and then stares down at her cup of tea. "I'm really sorry, Stan. I wish I could take away all your pain."
"You're comforting," I tell her. "I like talking to you as much as I enjoy talking to Kyle."
She smiles at that and looks up at me, saying, "Okay, I'm glad… and if you ever want me to be your bodyguard, you should let me know. I'm a black belt, remember."
I chuckle at that and say, "All right, deal."
Next week, Kyle gladly comes with me to my next appointment just like he said he would. We sit in the waiting room quietly, neither of us knowing what to say. However, soon enough my name is called and we both walk into the office. Dr. Hightower introduces herself and then Kyle does the same. He is perfectly charming, but I'm sure Dr. Hightower sees through the façade. Kyle is good at this, but she's a professional.
After formalities are taken care of, we get down to business.
"So, Kyle, how would you describe your relationship with Stan?"
It's an odd question – one that I don't quite understand. Nonetheless, I'm quiet as I wait for Kyle's response.
"We're best friends," he starts. "Soul-mates, even."
"Soul-mates," Dr. Hightower repeats. "Why do you choose that word to describe your relationship with Stan?"
"Because it's accurate," Kyle continues. "It best communicates my feelings for Stan. It's deeper than best friends. He's perfect for me and I'm perfect for him. We get along. We never fight. We argue sometimes because it's normal, but we always resolve our differences. Actually, in Yiddish there is a word called "basherter" that is kind of like a soul-mate. That was one of the first words I learned in Yiddish. My grandmother taught it to me. It means destiny. That's how I think of Stan. I feel like he completes me."
Hearing him talk makes me feel pleasantly warm in my stomach and chest. I'm probably blushing a bit, too.
Dr. Hightower smiles at Kyle before glancing at me. "Stan, how do you feel about Kyle?"
"I feel the same way," I say, feeling somewhat shy suddenly. "Um, I feel like you're the person who understands me best. You're everything I want. You always support me and I want to support you, too… but I'm really fucking scared at the same time. Time is moving fast and we're growing up and I feel like I'm not growing with everyone else. I feel stuck, like I'm constantly travelling in a circle and in the center of that circle are all my shitty memories. I can't really escape them and it feels like I'm dwelling, but I don't know how to move on from something so bad and I don't want people to leave me behind… I don't want you to leave me behind."
Kyle softens. "I wouldn't ever…" he promises.
"I want to be with you and it makes me so jealous and sad when I see you with other people, but…" I trail off, pausing and trying to contemplate how I want to communicate what I feel. I need to get it out without sounding like a possessive person, but it's kind of impossible because I am possessive. "I know I don't really have any right because I'm not offering you any kind of commitment… yet I still want you to commit to me."
"I will," Kyle says. "If you want me to, I will… and honestly, it'd probably be a good thing."
"You'd be willing to take things that slow?" I ask him, somewhat surprised.
"Even if it takes you forever to kiss me, I won't mind," he says. "I just like being near you. You're the one person I really look forward to seeing. It's always been that way."
I smile faintly at that and Dr. Hightower says, "You seem to get along very well with one another."
"We do," Kyle says.
The session continues. Kyle says there are times when I feel distant and there are times when I ignore what happened to me, choosing instead to wrap myself up in other people's problems. Dr. Hightower tries to get me to communicate my feelings about it to Kyle. I try. I once again tell him that it hurts to think about. I've always been a drinker, but now it's even harder to stop because I have so many more reasons to drink than I used to. I used to just be some sad kid. Now I'm some sad victim. I hate that word. Victim. I hate it and all that it implies. Everyone feels sorry for me and I think that's why I get away with so much. If I was just a normal person, then I wouldn't. People would get angry at me a hell of a lot more.
After the session, me and Kyle leave. I feel kind of upset, which Kyle knows.
"I'm sorry," he says.
"Don't," I say. "It's fine. Let's just change the subject."
Kyle nods his head. "It felt like she was playing match maker," he says with a chuckle. "It was nice, though. I feel like she kind of helped regulate the conversation and she helped us get out a lot of our feelings. She helped us have the talk we desperately needed to have."
"Yeah," I agree, though I'm still not sure where we go from here. Nonetheless, it was a good first step forward and I actually feel good about it. I don't feel anxious. I thought that I would, but I feel calm and comfortable. That alone makes me feel like we're making a good choice. The pace isn't too quick. Things aren't going too fast. This is okay. I'm okay.
Craig starts eating lunch with us when he isn't eating with his usual crew. On Friday, me and Kenny make our way to where he's seated with Wendy.
"What'cha eating?" Kenny asks as we sit down with him.
"Uh, pizza," he says before taking a bite of his pepperoni slice.
I don't eat meat. I stopped a long time ago, but I don't have a superiority complex about it. People can eat whatever they like. Plus, hunting and gathering societies still exist today and who am I to say no one should eat meat? I don't tell people what they can and can't eat. I think that's such an ugly thing to do.
I pull my own lunch out while Kenny munches on an apple. Craig is a slow, tidy eater. It's like he's worried that people are judging him for eating. It's kind of sad that something everyone has to do makes him nervous.
It reminds me of something that Daisy from Girl, Interrupted said: "Everyone likes to be alone when it comes out. I like to be alone when it goes in."
Bill Allen walks past our table and when be spots Craig he decides to say something cruel.
"Oink, oink, Craig."
I feel my jaw drop and Kenny simply raises an eyebrow, looking unsure at what the comment even means. I guess he's oblivious and Craig didn't tell him yet.
Craig turns around as Bill saunters off and he whips an opened yoghurt cup at him. I guess Craig has good aim, because it gets him in the back of the head, getting yoghurt in his hair.
"Aw, what the fuck, Craig!" he shouts viciously.
Craig ditches his food a split second later, leaving the cafeteria angrily. I get up and follow and so does Kenny.
"What was that all about?" Kenny asks me as we tail Craig.
"I'll let Craig tell you," I respond, not wanting to tell Kenny things that aren't mine to tell.
When I expect Craig to turn into the bathroom, he doesn't. He just continues to his locker, throwing his books inside and then leaving the building.
I decide not to follow.
Is it really my place?
I know I like making everyone's business my own, but maybe Kenny should go after him instead of me. They're in a relationship now, after all.
"Go," I say to Kenny. "He'll talk to you."
Kenny eyes me but then nods, leaving.
If Craig told me about his ED, then he'll tell Kenny. He said it wasn't a secret, after all.
Come night, Wendy calls and tells me she's going to a party. Then she invites me to come along. I accept somewhat hesitantly. Honestly, the only reason I agree to go is because I know Kyle will be there and I don't want him to do anything dumb.
Wendy stays with me at all times. There's a big cooler of jungle juice sitting on the kitchen table. Stay classy, South Park. Still, neither of us drinks. I have a feeling if I wasn't here, she might, but since I am she won't.
Halfway through the night, I see Craig being felt up by some guy. He doesn't look like he minds it, either. At first I think nothing of it, but a split second later I remember that he's dating Kenny. I feel my chest jump and then I shove my way across the room. When I reach Craig, I pry him away from the guy he's tonguing. I tell the guy to fuck off and then ask Craig, "Man, what the fuck are you doing?"
Craig brushes me off and says, "None of your business."
"Yes, it is!" I insist. "Kenny is one of my best friends and he doesn't deserve to be cheated on!"
He frowns at that, but he doesn't respond.
"You have a boyfriend, dude!" I continue. "And I'm not going to sit around and let you fuck up something good, so chill the fuck out and quit being like that! Kenny likes you! So stop with this B.S."
He leans against the wall, banging his head back against it and staring off into what looks like empty space. His eyes are glazed over and he looks distraught.
"What is it?" I ask him.
"I'm coming out of it," he murmurs quietly, "and I wish I wasn't."
"What do you mean?" I pry, not understanding. I glance at Wendy, who is standing beside me. She simply shrugs.
"The drug trip," Craig reminds me. "It's like... soon I'll be normal again... or, as normal as I was before it happened."
"Oh, right," I whisper. "Did Kenny piss you off? Didn't he go after you when you left school earlier?"
"Yeah," he says. "He's… kind of tactless."
"Did he say something to upset you?" I pry some more. "If he did, you should talk to him. You shouldn't… do stuff like this. You'll regret it and so will he. It won't make anyone happy."
"Are you going to tell him?" Craig asks me.
"No, but you should," I say. "If you don't, then I'll probably feel like I have to."
He lets out a shuddery sigh before walking past me.
"Jeez," Wendy murmurs.
"Should I follow him?" I ask, glancing at her.
She smiles wearily. "You can't keep making everyone's problems your problems, Stan…"
"I'm not!" I insist, but I know she's right.
"Go after him," she says. "If you don't, you'll probably regret it, won't you?"
"Probably," I admit.
With that, I leave. I exit the front door and spot Craig at the end of the driveway. When I approach him, I see that he's fumbling with his lighter. Silently, I take it from him and light the cigarette between his lips. He mumbles a thank you and begins walking. I trail after him and he doesn't tell me to fuck off.
"Why do you do this?" he asks vaguely.
"What?" I respond.
"Try to help everyone…"
"Oh," I laugh, "well, 'cause I can't help myself and I want to at least be doing something good in the meantime… Plus, I know most people aren't going to shove me away."
"You're easy to talk to because you know what it's like to suffer," Craig says.
"Yeah," I murmur. "I know... S'probably why people trust me." I glance over at him and then ask, "Are YOU suffering, Craig?"
He laughs at that and smoke escapes his mouth and nose. "I don't know… All I know is that I feel bad lately. It's a distantly familiar emotion. Nothing anyone says seems to help."
"They don't understand," Stan says, "and I'm not saying I do, because I don't… I've never been through what you've been through."
"Yeah," he mumbles.
"What did Kenny say?" I finally ask.
Craig inhales deeply before slowly exhaling. He flicks his cigarette, ashing it onto the slushy street. "I told him I had an eating disorder and he just said, 'But you're so skinny?' and then he said, 'If you think you're fat you must think I'm obese!' it was just… something I didn't even know how to respond to. At first I forced myself to brush it off, but later we were eating and he commented saying that I ate a lot. I guess he was surprised? I don't know. That upset me. People think eating disorders are JUST about food, but it's a lot more complicated than that. I just… Fuck, I don't know. A lot of stuff rubs me the wrong way. I don't like when people tell me I look healthy, because I know that means I gained weight… I just try to avoid scales. My parents got rid of all the ones in our house because weighing myself just messed me up a lot. People want me to just snap out of it… and I guess, for a while, the drugs helped numb me to everything in the world 'cause it messed with my brain… but now I don't have that anymore. It's just a constant struggle."
When he finishes talking, I nod my head. "Yeah… Kenny is kind of ditzy sometimes. His heart is in the right place, but he has no filters. I'm not justifying it, I'm just saying… that's how he is. I think if you take the time to really talk to him about it and tell him how you feel and what you're struggling with, then he might be better."
"Yeah," Craig murmurs in agreement. "I didn't really tell him much of anything. I've been in recovery for years now, but I can literally feel it getting bad again. I don't want to relapse, but I seriously think I might… and my parents are the absolute worst because they just think it's all their fault… Don't tell anyone this, but they think it's all 'cause I played with Barbie dolls as a child."
"I'm sorry," I sympathize, "and don't worry, I won't tell anyone that. What usually helps you when you're feeling overwhelmed?"
"Fuck, I don't know," he says. "I hate getting advice, I hate getting criticized, I hate hearing people talk about their own bodies or other peoples' bodies… a lot of people don't understand that when I'm talking to them, I'm not looking for them to offer something in return. I just want them to listen. Simple as that."
"Yeah," I say softly. "I know."
Soon enough, we're standing in front of Craig's house. He hesitates. "God, my parents are going to fucking kill me 'cause I smell like a winery," he mutters.
"Want me to walk you to Kenny's?" I offer. "You can spend the night with him and talk."
He smiles wearily. "You would do that?"
"Yeah," I say, smiling back.
"God, you're such a nice guy," he says and there isn't an ounce of mocking in his tone.
We continue down the street, walking past Kyle's house and my house and Clyde's house in the process. Soon enough, we're in the poor part of town. Then we're in front of Kenny's house.
"Here we are," I say.
"Hey," he murmurs, turning to look at me. "Thank you."
I smile and say, "Sure, Craig."
Once he's inside, I turn around and make my way back home. I get out my phone and tell Wendy I won't be going back. I text her again when I'm back home to let her know I'm safe.
I know it might sound wrong, but it helps me to help others. I guess it's hardly altruistic, but I don't care at this point. I don't think I'm doing anything bad. I do want to help people and by doing that I can make myself feel better. This is probably the only thing in life that keeps me going at this point.
The following night, I feel restless.
I wonder if it took a lot for Craig to let Kenny in. I'm not just talking mentally, I mean physically. I know Craig is (or was) a virgin. I wonder if he has problems looking at himself. I always have problems looking at myself.
Via Facebook, I decide to message him after getting ready for bed.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Hey, question.
CRAIG TUCKER: Sure, shoot.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Are you a confident person?
CRAIG TUCKER: Idk not particularly.
CRAIG TUCKER: Why?
STANLEY R. MARSH: This is going to sound invasive and personal, but was it hard to get naked with Kenny for the first time?
CRAIG TUCKER: Are you asking this because you want to sleep with Kyle?
STANLEY R. MARSH: Well… yes, eventually. I can't stop thinking about it.
STANLEY R. MARSH: I know Kyle won't hurt me or anything, but I don't want to feel overwhelmed and then have it turn out to be a horrible experience for the both of us.
STANLEY R. MARSH: I don't know how I'll know if I'm ready or not.
CRAIG TUCKER: Take it slow.
CRAIG TUCKER: Don't just jump right into fucking.
CRAIG TUCKER: That's a big step.
CRAIG TUCKER: Try to do other stuff before actually having sex.
CRAIG TUCKER: Like, be naked in a non-sexual way maybe.
STANLEY R. MARSH: We haven't done much of anything.
CRAIG TUCKER: I'm sure Kyle is fine with that. He doesn't seem like the type to pressure people.
STANLEY R. MARSH: He's not, but I feel selfish since we're just going to be doing it all at my pace.
STANLEY R. MARSH: I know he's probably already ready to sleep with me.
CRAIG TUCKER: Doesn't matter if he is. It takes two and both people need to be ready. If you're not, he has to wait.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Blaaah.
CRAIG TUCKER: Honestly, I felt shy when I slept with Kenny.
CRAIG TUCKER: I didn't expect it because I was so eager to toss my virginity at the first person who wanted it.
CRAIG TUCKER: I thought it would be with someone who didn't matter, but Kenny does matter and that made it hard.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Wow…
STANLEY R. MARSH: Yeah, I kind of know how you feel.
STANLEY R. MARSH: I'm worried Kyle will see something he doesn't like.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Plus, I'm worried I'll freak out while it's happening.
CRAIG TUCKER: Kenny probably didn't tell you, but I kind of freaked out while we were doing it.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Shit, no, he didn't tell me.
STANLEY R. MARSH: What happened?
CRAIG TUCKER: Lol.
CRAIG TUCKER: I cried.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Aw, why?
CRAIG TUCKER: Idk I guess it was a lot more intense than I thought it would be.
CRAIG TUCKER: Plus, we slept together really early.
CRAIG TUCKER: We haven't been dating long at all.
CRAIG TUCKER: It's been, like, a week and maybe I wasn't ready.
CRAIG TUCKER: Or maybe it was because it wasn't with some random asshole, it was with someone I actually cared about.
CRAIG TUCKER: I always assumed I'd probably be drunk when it happened.
CRAIG TUCKER: I thought that would make the event easier to get past, but I was sober.
CRAIG TUCKER: Lol idk Kenny probably played it down when he told you guys, though.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Actually, he didn't even tell us you guys slept together.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Usually he speaks crudely about his sexual endeavours.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Like when you guys were drunk, he told us about it.
STANLEY R. MARSH: He seemed proud.
STANLEY R. MARSH: But he didn't say anything about you after that.
STANLEY R. MARSH: I think he grew to really, really like you more than he's ever liked anyone else.
STANLEY R. MARSH: So, he doesn't want to ruin that.
STANLEY R. MARSH: He respects you.
CRAIG TUCKER: I like him, too.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Does that mean you guys worked things out?
CRAIG TUCKER: We're starting to, at least.
CRAIG TUCKER: I told him I kissed someone else.
CRAIG TUCKER: He asked if it was because he's a hooker.
CRAIG TUCKER: I said it was a mix of many things, but that might be one of them.
CRAIG TUCKER: He said he wasn't going to quit his job.
CRAIG TUCKER: And I guess I can't force him to, but I still want to try this.
CRAIG TUCKER: After that we talked about my ED.
CRAIG TUCKER: Idk I talked a lot about my feelings and shit.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Do you feel good about the talk?
CRAIG TUCKER: Yeah, he seemed to understand and he looked remorseful when I told him the things he said really got to me.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Good!
CRAIG TUCKER: But enough about that.
CRAIG TUCKER: What are you going to do with Kyle?
STANLEY R. MARSH: I'll take your advice.
STANLEY R. MARSH: We'll do it slow.
STANLEY R. MARSH: I won't rush into something I know I'm not ready for.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Maybe we'll try to actually look at each other before we do any touching.
CRAIG TUCKER: Yeah.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Did you and Kenny do that?
CRAIG TUCKER: No, we just jumped right into it after my idiotic drunken display in his bedroom.
CRAIG TUCKER: I guess the fact that I was drunk made things a little easier that time.
CRAIG TUCKER: But I wasn't drunk when we actually slept together and I just felt so uncomfortable when he looked at me.
CRAIG TUCKER: He tried to make me feel safe and comfortable, but I was so not feeling it.
CRAIG TUCKER: Idk I just couldn't help but wonder if he thought I looked gross, though I know he didn't.
CRAIG TUCKER: If he thought I looked gross, then he wouldn't have wanted to sleep with me because he saw me naked that night we drank.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Yeah :c
CRAIG TUCKER: But whatever, it's just something I need to work through.
CRAIG TUCKER: I told Kenny that and he seemed understanding.
CRAIG TUCKER: So, I doubt he'll try to move things along too fast.
STANLEY R. MARSH: That's good.
STANLEY R. MARSH: If he does, I'll kick his butt.
CRAIG TUCKER: Lol.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Kyle has never even seen me naked, not even as a kid.
CRAIG TUCKER: Does that make you nervous?
STANLEY R. MARSH: Yeah.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Dumb as it sounds, I just want him to think I'm pretty.
STANLEY R. MARSH: I also want to be able to act accordingly.
CRAIG TUCKER: I worried about that, too.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Kenny thinks you're super attractive.
STANLEY R. MARSH: He says that a lot.
CRAIG TUCKER: Haha really.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Yep!
CRAIG TUCKER: Good to know.
CRAIG TUCKER: I guess worrying never helps, but I understand that it's impossible not to sometimes.
STANLEY R. MARSH: True.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Dunno how it will happen.
STANLEY R. MARSH: I can't even imagine it.
CRAIG TUCKER: Yeah, I know.
CRAIG TUCKER: It kind of just feels like a surreal experience the first time.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Haha.
STANLEY R. MARSH: I just want it to be good.
CRAIG TUCKER: I'm sure it will be.
CRAIG TUCKER: You'll know when you feel ready.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Yeah, you're right.
STANLEY R. MARSH: So, does this make us friends?
CRAIG TUCKER: Lol sure.
CRAIG TUCKER: I probably wouldn't talk about this stuff with someone who wasn't my friend.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Haha, cool.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Anyway, thanks.
STANLEY R. MARSH: I'm going to go to bed.
CRAIG TUCKER: Me, too, actually.
CRAIG TUCKER: Goodnight.
STANLEY R. MARSH: Night!
I sign off after that and close my computer, sitting up from my desk. I kill the lights and get into bed, gladly welcoming sleep.
I think Tweek was right. Something about Craig makes me feel calm, too.