Chapter Text
POV - Craig
“FUCK, THERE’S BLOOD EVERYWHERE!!” Tweek screeched as he and Craig ran towards the parking lot.
With the taste of copper in his mouth and the smell of iron in his sinuses, Craig tried not to inhale lungfuls of plasma as he doubled over, trying to catch his breath through the thick slime obstructing his nostrils.
Craig grunted in agreement, covering his mouth and nose with his hand the best that he could. Tweek screeched and ran over to Craig’s aid, frantically roaming his hovering hands above Craig’s body with no real solutions or aid.
“What do I do, WHAT SHOULD I DO?!” Tweek twitched hard to one side, something he hadn’t done in a long time. “Ow.” He whimpered, when the action pulled on the bruise at the side of his face.
He grabbed at it shakily, the gravel in his voice scraping at Craig’s heart painfully as Tweek whimpered again and again.
‘Baby…’
“Tweek, relax.” Craig attempted, muffled by the hand that was failing to keep all the blood in his face where it fucking belongs.
“Oh, Craig…” Tweek cooed as he reached for Craig, withdrawing his hand as the bloodied boy winced. “Ice… y-you need ice. A-and TOWELS!! WE NEED TOWELS, GAH!”
Ah, shit. Tweek’s was stammering shrieking exactly like he used to when they were younger.
Fuck.
Years of therapy undone by one stupid fight.
He could kill Cartman for this…
“Uh, here,” Craig tossed the keys to Tweek, who promptly tossed them back with a yelp. You’d think it was a live fucking grenade, Jesus Christ…
“GAH! CRAIG NO! I-I-I can’t drive, I DON’T KNOW HOW!!” Tweek shrieked as a tear rolled down his bruised cheek.
He doesn’t know how to drive?!
“You don’t know how to drive?!” Craig asked disbelievingly.
“NOO!” Tweek continued wiping his eyes as if they weren’t steadily pouring tears.
“Well, I can’t drive! My face is gushing blood!” Craig reasoned rationally, CLEARLY not the language Tweek wanted to be speaking at the moment.
“ACK! NO!! P-PLEASE, you have to drive, I’ll kill us… and then we’ll be dead, AH!” Tweek started pulling at his hair, unable to stop himself. Dammit, Craig would help but his hands were a little full with his bodily fluids right now…
Craig sighed towards the sky and tried to speak calmly.
“Tweek, honey, you have to calm down.” ‘‘Honey?’ Where the hell did that come from?’
The smaller boy studied Craig skeptically. He seemed to be mulling over the weight of the simple request.
Tweek nodded. He closed his eyes serenely, gesturing his hands downward across his body, as if to shake off bad energy.
Tweek did his best to breathe deeply, but a little too quickly. Panic flashed across Tweek’s face as his hyperventilating meditation started to resemble something more like labor pains.
“AH!” Tweek screamed clutching his chest.
“Ok! Ok!” Craig conceded, picking the keys off the pavement, stiffly, “I’ll drive but you have to relax!”
“HOW?! We’re all SHAKEN UP!! You’re face is bleeding, Oh, Craig—!”
“Tweek”, Craig grabbed Tweek with one bloody, free hand and stared down at him above his pinched, gushing nose. “Please.” Tweek stared up at him with giant doe eyes. “I need your help.” A curious look of bravery swept over Tweek’s small face.
“Help me.” Craig repeated.
“H-here, Craig, hang on!”
Tweek whipped his sweatshirt off and threw it in the backseat with a small yelp. He grabbed his bloody ear briefly before shaking off the pain and practically ripping the flannel off his body. Now only wearing a t-shirt, Tweek bundled it up into a small ball as best as his shaking hands would allow.
Craig drove home in his shitty van, at 80mph, through residential neighborhoods. He drove with his head tipped back as far as he could while still being able to see, with Tweek holding his bundled up flannel underneath Craig’s gushing nose, his other small hand cradling the back of Craig’s head.
For someone who used to be so small, then shot up like a tree to the height of normal human beings in eighth grade, Tweek still had adorably small hands.
Every now and then Craig would feel him stretch his little fingers and comb them through Craig’s hair tentatively, in a movement so small it almost didn’t seem deliberate.
“We’re here!” Tweek announced, tossing off his seatbelt and jumping out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop. He ran around to the driver’s side and threw open the door.
“Tweek, I can walk myself inside—”
Too late. Tweek had already wrapped his arms around Craig and pulled him inside as Craig struggled to keep up with his long legs.
“Gimme your shirt.” Tweek demanded as he reached for the bloodied cloth, lifting it halfway above Craig’s abdomen by the time he’d finished his sentence.
“Tweek, stop, OW!” Craig screamed as the collar of his shirt pulled against his battered nose.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Baby, I’m sorry!” Wait… who?
“GAH!” Tweek shrieked again, jumping back from Craig like he had spontaneously set himself on fire. “Um. I’m sorry Craig.” Tweek corrected, lunging forward again to help Craig — gently, this time — slowly pull his shirt off over his injuries.
Once Tweek had Craig’s bloodied shirt in his fists, he scurried off to the laundry room where Craig could hear him slamming cabinets and cursing to himself under his breath.
“Can I help?” Craig asked regrettably as he walked into the absolute war-zone that was the Tweak’s laundry room. He walked in just in time to witness Tweek toss an entire pile of what appeared to be clean clothes onto the floor to make room on top of the washer.
Tweek grabbed for some kind of cleaner, dropping it twice before he was able to get a grip on it, and poured the contents all over Craig’s shirt.
“Dammit!” Tweek cursed as he opened the washer to find an old and musty pile of wash that must’ve been there for at least a few days. “Fuck!” Tweek exclaimed as he turned towards the dryer and saw that there was still 7 minutes left on the machine. Mrs. Tweak must’ve come home in the middle of the day to do some chores… emphasis on ‘some’.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” Craig grumbled, blood dripping onto his chin as he spoke, some falling onto his chest as he attempted to cover his mouth.
Tweek’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he worked frantically, pressing ‘cancel’ on the dryer, mmm, probably, 50 times in the 5 seconds it took to turn off, tossing the warm clothes in a basket and throwing the wet clothes in the dryer with an extra dryer sheet. He tossed Craig’s crime scene of a t-shirt into the washer and filled it with soap. Before pressing start, Tweek shakily whipped off his own shirt, tossing it in, and pressed ‘start’.
“Here.” Tweek grabbed an oversized t-shirt from the basket and handed it to Craig. It was warm, and soft, and smelled like the Tweak’s laundry soap.
Craig flipped it over to examine it: it was a band t-shirt, from the concert he and Tweek had gone to at the county fair three summers ago. They both had no idea who the band was, but some nice woman said she didn’t need the tickets anymore and Tweek and Craig happened to be the lucky strangers closest to the exit as she was leaving. They ended up having a great time and bought matching T-shirts to commemorate. It was faded now, and Craig couldn’t even remember the name of the band.
Craig pulled the printed cotton over his head and followed Tweek into the kitchen.
Tweek scurried towards the freezer, pulling an oversized t-shirt of his own over his blond head as he scrambled.
Ice packs and towels in hand, Tweek was about to turn and run up the stairs when Craig caught him by the wrist. He could feel his racing pulse against his thumb as he held him.
“We’re okay, now.” Craig reminded Tweek, who looked at the ground contemplatively before agreeing.
“Okay.” Tweek dropped the supplies in his hands and nearly knocked Craig over with the force of his little body, as he wrapped two skinny arms around him and hugged him tightly. Craig held Tweek close to him with one, tired arm, the other protecting Tweek’s head from Craig’s still-bleeding face.
They stood there for a while, just breathing, just existing.
Together.
Tweek untangled himself from Craig’s stiff body and looked up into his tired eyes.
Tweek stretched up on his toes, and pressed a quick kiss to Craig’s cheek.
Craig stared at Tweek blankly, frozen and confused. Sure, Craig has kissed Tweek all over his face, many times before, mostly because he loved how flustered it made the blushing boy. The boy that was now staring at him with stoic confidence and an air of expectancy.
But Craig didn’t react. He didn’t do anything. He just stood there, like a lovestruck goldfish, with his mouth hanging open, hand in front to catch the blood, and his eyes wide. Tweek sighed, tiredly.
“We should get you upstairs.” Tweek declared, scooping up the towels and ice, leading the way as Craig followed him up the stairs.
Craig found himself stretched out across Tweek’s bed, head resting against Tweek’s thighs like a pillow, with a bag of ice perched on top of his forehead and a bundled up rag under his nose, hat discarded somewhere on the bed.
Tweek’s room was dark and quiet. With the shades drawn and only the dim light of some Christmas bulbs strung across the ceiling, you would almost think they were spending a relaxing, rainy day inside, rather than icing their bruises and mopping up blood.
Craig closed his eyes against the soft feeling of Tweek’s fingers wandering aimlessly through his thick hair.
Damn, everything hurt.
Craig had a headache that felt like he could shooting sparks out of his eyes.
“I think you’ve officially stopped bleeding.” Tweek announced quietly as he showed Craig an unsullied corner of the thoroughly blood-soaked rag.
“Thanks,” Craig’s flat, gravely voice rumbled up from his sore chest. “You’re the best fake boyfriend ever.” Craig praised jokingly. Craig chuckled uncomfortably at the way Tweek frowned. “Ok switch.”
Tweek helped Craig sit up very slowly, mindful of Craig’s pounding head.
Tweek fiddled with the bloodied rag in his pale hands, nervously, as Craig settled in next to him in against the wall. The two sat side by side, pain radiating from every pore in Craig’s being as he closed his eyes, listening to Tweek fidgeting next to him.
One simple question, innocent and fragile, exploded dangerously, like fireworks in the quiet.
“It is fake though, isn’t it?”
Craig froze. He turned towards Tweek with unspoken questions behind his eyes.
“What do you mean.”
Tweek and Craig stared each other down in silence, Tweek probably trying to read Craig’s mind, Craig just trying to think any exhausted thoughts at all.
Tweek’s head tipped towards Craig’s shoulder for just a moment before he straightened again.
“Nothing. Let’s switch.” Tweek dropped the ice intro Craig’s hands and lay his head across Craig’s outstretched legs.
“Ok.” Craig concluded, moving to gently place the ice against the giant purple bruise on Tweek’s cheek. Tweek grabbed onto Craig’s hovering hand, and redirected it to his swelling eye, dropping it there roughly, without even a wince.
“Sorry.” Craig apologized, though he wasn’t really sure why.
Tweek covered his forehead with his forearm, looking exhausted. Craig felt the urge to scoop Tweek up in his arms and hold him until he wasn’t hurting anymore.
Tweek melted under Craig’s touch as he began raking his long fingers through Tweek’s electric blond hair.
“I can see your roots from here.” Craig chuckled, swirling the bright locks under his stretched fingers.
Tweek smirked up from his lap, cracking one eye open to look up at Craig.
“Yeah, my hair grows fast because I’m more evolutionarily advanced.” He joked, reaching an arm up to pet the back of Craig’s head. His arm came up just short, and Craig straightened his long back, forcing Tweek to strain and stretch out of reach.
“Yeah? Is that so, shorty?” Craig smirked down at him.
“I’m not short anymore, you’re just freakishly tall.” Tweek shot back, a small smile visible under his giant fucking attitude.
“One might call that an evolutionarily advantage.” Craig straightened his back with mock superiority.
“Well, your nails can’t grow for shit.”
“But they’re so pretty.”
“You need glasses.”
“You got me.” Craig admitted jokingly, “You are the more evolutionarily advanced human.”
“Exhibit A.” Tweek chuckled sarcastically, suspending his hand mid-air, where it trembled and shook, at eye level with Craig.
Craig grabbed a hold with his steady fingers and held it firmly.
“That was kinda scary today, huh?” Craig mumbled, feeling kinda weird about this sudden outburst of vulnerable admission. He felt like he needed to say it, though. Craig busied himself by tracing his thumb over the soft skin on the back of Tweek’s hand.
Tweek shrugged nonchalantly, “I didn’t really have time to be scared.” That was probably true. Tweek was paranoid about a lot of things but when the going got tough and passion overrode fear, Tweek had proven himself to be the bravest person Craig had ever known.
“You scared me.” Craig confessed, studying the stray piece of thread at the end of his sleeve meticulously. Why was he saying this?
“I did?” Tweek chirped, adorably.
“Yeah.” Craig admitted. “The way Cartman was wailing on you, and Clyde said you were out cold—"
“My concussion is mild, at best.” Tweek quipped dryly. Craig snorted a laugh that actually kinda hurt his bruised nose. He heard a giggle erupt from his lap. Craig looked down, enchanted by the way Tweek’s eyebrow quirked underneath his smile.
“You came to my rescue.” Tweek joked, a little patronizingly.
“Okay…” Craig brushed him off, a little embarrassedly.
Tweek sat up slowly, and turned to face Craig, a strange look of sadness behind his grinning, green eyes.
“Super Craig.”
Craig’s mind drifted back to sweet memories of Tweek bundled in his arms, one rainy weekend in 9th grade, the first day Craig decided to dig up his old black frames instead of bothering with contacts: ’You look like Superman’, ’Clark Craig’, ‘Craig Kent’… ‘Super Craig’.
Craig tensed, as Tweek leaned closer, brain just about to short circuit when Tweek turned his head and reached for the phone on the opposite side of Craig.
‘Oh. Yeah… I knew that’ Craig lied to himself as Tweek pulled back, typing something into the phone as he leaned back against the wall next to Craig.
Hm… Tweek still had some blood crusted to the side of his face under his ear. Craig followed the trail of blood with his eyes, watching it curve around the side of Tweek’s jaw and down his slender neck. Before he could stop himself, Craig reached up and dragged a thumb lightly over pale, lily skin, unmarred by the rusty gore next to it.
Tweek jumped, looking at Craig questionably. Craig felt his face heating up to match Tweek’s instant blush.
“Um.” Nice going, Craig, real smooth. “Blood… you’ve got blood…” Craig explained clumsily.
Maybe Craig was the one with the concussion…
“Oh.” Tweek brought his hand up to his ear and inspected it. “Come on.” Tweek grabbed Craig’s hand as he started to pull him off the bed. “You’ve got some too.”
Craig’s feet hit the ground, bringing him to an idle wobble right in front of Tweek. He was still standing very close to him and he was still holding onto his hand.
As if reading his mind, Tweek looked down and quickly dropped Craig’s hand, staring up at him for a moment before making a small unintelligible noise and speed walking to the bathroom, shoulders tense and fingers flexed.
Tweek dug through the neatly folded basket of clean towels for a small washcloth— one that would most likely end up in a messy pile on the floor with all the rest of the towels. Then they would be cleaned, folded, and placed neatly back in the painted, wicker basket to repeat the cycle once again.
Tweek ran the salmon colored cloth under cold water before turning around to face Craig.
In poor timing, Craig reached for the cloth right as Tweek brought it up under Craig’s bloody nostrils.
“Oh.”
“Oh, I thought you wanted me to.”
“If you want.”
“I can see better… better angle.”
“I was gonna do it myself…”
“Oh, well, here.”
“No, go ahead.”
Craig clasped his hands behind his back and silently cursed his awkwardness.
Tweek exhaled a laugh and stepped closer. Craig winced as the wet cloth pressed against his skin, cold but soft.
“I’m sorry.” Tweek apologized as he blotted the crusted blood all around Craig’s face. “It doesn’t look broken.” He noted optimistically. At least that was good news. “How’s your head?”
“I think I’m supposed to be asking you that.” Craig commented dryly. Tweek ran his fingers through his frizzed hair self-conciously.
“I don’t think I need to go to the hospital or anything. But it fucking hurts.” Tweek admitted, running the cool cloth across Craig’s blood smeared cheek.
“Mine too.”
Tweek nodded, now brushing the cloth along the corner of Craig’s split lip, lingering just a little too long. “…You’re pretty much done!” He announced briskly, clearing his throat dryly. Craig’s mouth twitched into a smirk at the flustered way Tweek was staring at him.
Tweek stepped back and admired his work. He nodded to himself and held the cloth out for Craig to take. Craig didn’t miss the way their hands brushed against one another mid-transaction.
“Um. I’ll get a band aid for that.” Tweek pointed to the small split on the bridge of Craig’s nose.
Craig turned to look at himself in the mirror as Tweek rushed out of the room.
The inner corners of his eyes were a deep purple, the small gash on his nose still bleeding freshly, though just a trickle now, as if from a paper cut. He touched his swollen lip carefully, poking at the puffy flesh, aggravating the freshly cleaned cut next to the mole below bottom lip.
“Don’t mess with it.” Tweek commanded gently as he unwrapped the small bandaid in his hand.
He stretched it across Craig’s nose carefully.
“Thanks.” Craig nodded. Tweek smiled. As he turned his head to toss the paper backings into the trash, Craig caught glimpse of the blood still stuck to Tweek’s face.
Craig walked over to the sink and turned on the faucet.
“Come here.” He beckoned warmly, as he rinsed a clean corner of the cloth.
Tweek stepped in front of the taller boy.
Craig tipped Tweek’s face to the side with a small tap of his index finger.
Running the cloth down his soft face, the water mixed with the blood, creating a pink hue against the purple bruises.
“...All done.” Craig announced quietly. Tweek took the cloth and tossed it near the hamper. Close enough, at least.
“Thanks, Craig.” Tweek smiled his small, lopsided smile.
“No problem.” Craig cleared his throat, trying his hardest not to sound like his heart had just skipped a beat.
“Do you want something to drink?” Tweek asked.
Tweek buzzed around his kitchen like a bumblebee, the bitter smell of coffee mingling with the sweet scent of cocoa.
The dim yellow of their cheap lightbulbs cast a warm glow in the rustic, Tuscan kitchen.
Craig leaned against the counter and watched Tweek, as he stood in front of the microwave, checking the time every two seconds, regardless of the fact that there were still 45 seconds left on the clock.
“It doesn’t go any faster if you watch it.” He deadpanned. Tweek flipped him off for exactly 41 seconds.
Craig watched in fond adoration as Tweek made Craig’s hot chocolate: meticulously adding in exactly one and a half packets of hot chocolate mix, stirring it thoroughly until it was perfect. He added one drop of cold milk, before topping it off with extra marshmallows from the bag in the cupboard.
“Do you remember what I said to you,” Craig wondered out loud, “when I came to the coffee shop in fourth grade?”
Tweek burst into a small fit of laughter, watching the mug carefully as he shuffled over to hand it to Craig. “Which time?” He asked, giving the marshmallows in the cup one last stir before handing the hand-painted mug over to Craig.
“The first time.”
“Oh yeah,” Tweek giggled, “I believe you walked straight up to the counter and said ‘I hate coffee.’” Craig snorted at the spot on nasality of Tweek’s impressive impression of a young Craig.
“‘GAH! Then why do you order it then?!!’”
“Rude.” Tweek scolded as he pretended to be offended at Craig’s exact portrayal of little Tweek, through his fit of giggles. “Seriously though, you came into that coffee shop multiple times a week — sometimes every day — to order—”
“Caramel Machiatto.” Craig recited with Tweek. “Yeah, I remember.” Craig smiled down at his hot chocolate and took a sip.
“There were plenty of other things on the menu.” Tweek teased. “I even remember offering you hot chocolate instead.”
“‘I like Swiss Miss.’” Craig sassed in a nasally impression of his younger self.
“My dad kept wondering why I kept stashing Swiss Miss boxes in the back room after that.” Tweek chuckled.
“Wait… you did that for me?” Craig felt stupid, but yeah, he genuinely thought it was a coincidence that Tweak Bros. started serving powdered hot chocolate from a packet not long after that day.
“Duh.” Tweek giggled.
“I thought you liked it to…” Craig smirked.
“I drink coffee, Craig, where have you been?” Tweek chuckled, jumping up onto the counter opposite Craig. “I seriously can’t believe you ordered macchiatos every day for weeks, it was weeks, Craig.”
“What else was I supposed to do, say ‘hi’?” Craig mused as he walked over to jump up onto the counter next to Tweek.
“Thank God we’re not antisocial anymore.” Tweek deadpanned sarcastically, stoic expression cracking into a smile at Craig’s high-pitched, surprised laugh.
“Yeah, remind me to thank him next time we’re watching videos on my phone in the middle of a house party.”
Damn Tweek was cute when he smiled like that.
Slowly, as if to put painstaking thought into each movement, Tweek placed one hand in-between Craig and himself, and used it as leverage, shifting his weight, scooting closer to Craig. He tilted his head and brought it to rest on Craig’s shoulder. They sat there silently, listening to the tiny dripping noises coming from the coffee maker and breathing in the scent of chocolate and warm milk.
Craig closed his eyes and leaned against Tweek comfortably.
“And then you ran away.” Tweek spoke softly.
“Hm?” Craig hummed.
“After you blurted about how much you hated coffee, you ran away. You ran outside and your mom made you turn around and come back in.”
“Nooo.” Craig groaned burying his face in Tweek’s hair. “I forgot about that.” He winced, “Well, at least I got you to come over after that.”
“What did you say?” Craig could hear the grin in Tweek’s voice.
“I don’t remember, ‘wanna come over’, probably.” Craig shrugged.
“No, no, I remember your exact words because they confused and terrified me.” Tweek sat up excitedly and turned to face Craig. Tweek counted the sentences on his fingers as he listed them off. “You said, ‘you seem pretty cool. You don’t have any friends. Wanna come to a sleepover at my house?'”
“Ew!” Craig cringed. “I said that?”
“Yes!” Tweek yelped. “I spent the whole next week self conscious about not having any friends!”
“Whoops.” Craig pseudo-apologized, flatly. Craig remembered that night. He was so nervous about his new friend coming over that he ended up ignoring Tweek for the first half of the night. Even Clyde and Token were awkward about the new boy nobody had introduced them to. Good thing Jimmy was there to keep him company, the two bonded over their various ailments and medications. It was fucking cute. In fact, it wasn’t until Craig overheard Tweek and Jimmy talking about Red Racer that he spoke to him at all, ‘you like Red Racer?’
“Life was simpler back then.” Tweek responded sadly, staring up at Craig with his captivating doe eyes. Craig nodded.
Tweek reached for the side of his blond head slowly, only to let his hand fall into his lap instead. Craig grabbed it. He wondered what had gotten Tweek so down all of a sudden as he held his hand firmly.
Craig balanced his mug on his lap carefully as he shifted closer to Tweek.
“What’s wrong?” Craig spoke soft and low, like the world would shatter if he spoke too loud.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Tweek lied.
“I’m your boyfriend, Tweek, I know when something’s wrong with you—”
“Fake boyfriend, remember?” Tweek corrected, eyeing their clasped hands.
The two teens stared each other down, neither really sure what was going on in the other’s head.
“Tweek… I—”
Both boys jumped as the shrill ‘ding’ of the coffee maker pierced the silence and startled both of them.
“I’ll get that.” Tweek mumbled as he swung his legs off the counter and scurried over to the freshly brewed pot across the room.
Nobody spoke or made a sound, they existed separately in maddening stillness until Craig couldn’t take the silence anymore.
“Do… you remember what you said to me?” Craig wondered, barely smiling at the goofy memory.
“When?” Tweek questioned distractedly, as he dug in the cabinets for a suitable mug.
“When we first met. The first thing you ever said to me.” Tweek finished pouring the brown liquid into his Lego brand mug, and placed the glass pot gently back down, leaning against the counter heavily as he did. He listened, but he didn’t turn around.
Craig continued telling his story to Tweek’s back. “You ran up to me on the playground — and I remember thinking you wanted to fight me because you were so wound up — and you just screamed ‘YOUR BRACES ARE COOL!’ And ran away.” Craig chuckled. “And I was like, ‘who is this kid?’ That impression was branded in my brain but I didn’t even know your fucking name, dude. That’s why I started going to the coffee shop—”
“I can’t do this anymore, Craig.”
Craig stopped. He stopped talking, he stopped breathing, he just stopped.
“Do… what?” He wondered, though it came out as more of a statement.
Tweek turned around slowly, fingers gripping the counter with all of his strength, knuckles white and wrists shaking.
“This.” He whispered. “This… this whole fucking ‘fake boyfriend’ bullshit.”
Fuck. Tweek’s words hit Craig like a punch to the gut, like a kick to the teeth.
He wanted to beg Tweek to stop talking, but in some kind of sick, masochistic torture, he let him continue.
Tweek took slow and deliberate steps towards the tall boy, eyes pleading, shoulders trembling.
Tweek grabbed both of Craig’s hands and looked up at him warily.
“I can’t do it anymore, Craig, I’m driving myself crazy.”
“Okay.”
“Craig, stop crying.”
“I’m not.”
He was.
“Craig.”
“What?” Craig casually wiped his cheek on his shoulder in vain, as another hot tear rolled down his cheek simultaneously.
“Craig, calm down.”
“I am…” shaky breath “so calm.” Sniffle. “I’ll just… show myself out, um… I’ll see you at school, yeah? Good. So, uh,” Craig awkwardly held out his hand for a handshake and immediately retracted it. “No, I’ll just… I’ll see ya.”
“Craig wait!” Tweek chased after him “Craig, listen to me!”
“I don’t want to. Just text me.” Craig opened the front door, letting cold, frigid night air blow into the warm house that smelled like home. Tweek slammed the door from over Craig’s shoulder and pinned the taller boy against the door with both hands. Craig stared him down frustratedly, trying to ignore the feeling of the tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Relax!”
“Ok.”
“Listen to what I’m saying.”
Tweek reached a shaking hand up to rest against Craig’s cheek before he continued.
“I’m saying I’m done pretending.”
Craig froze.
“What?”
“I’m done pretending Craig, I’m done pretending like it doesn’t make my heart race when you ‘joke around’ with me. I’m done acting like I don’t want it to be real, I’m done with the games! It may be a joke to you still, but it’s not anymore, not to me.”
“It’s not!” Craig promised, loudly, for some reason losing a grip on his volume control. He cleared his throat and continued, “It’s not a joke for me anymore, I promise! I thought you knew that?”
Tweek blinked at him disbelievingly.
“You thought… I knew?… Are… you… KIDDING ME?! You just ASSUMED that I could read your mind?! I’VE BEEN STRESSING ABOUT THIS FOR WEEKS, CRAIG!”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry… ok, ow?!” Craig blocked Tweek’s tiny fists, as they lightly beat down on his chest in a confusing mix of anger and relief.
“I just… AH! You just decided that we’d moved on… and forgot to TELL ME?! WHAT THE FUCK CRAIG?!”
“I thought we had grown organically, you know? I just thought you weren’t as obvious about it.”
Tweek stared at Craig skeptically, fists balled up against his chest. Craig wondered if Tweek could feel his beating heart against his wrists.
“So, you don’t want this to be fake anymore either?” Tweek stepped closer, green eyes only inches away from Craig’s blue ones. Craig instinctively draped an arm across Tweek’s lower back, feeling the curve of his spine in the crook of his elbow.
“I want you, for real, every day,” Craig promised. Tweek’s hands twitched against Craig’s chest as he balled and released his fists contemplatively.
“You do?” He chirped innocently, tilting his head.
Craig didn’t answer, he didn’t have to.
Instead Craig leaned down, curled his fingers underneath Tweek’s trembling jaw, and brushed his lips against Tweek’s gently, softly, almost nervously.
The two looked at each other, before shutting their eyes once more.
Tweek pulled Craig closer to him, sighing against him as he draped one arm across his shoulders, the other one running up and down his waist.
Craig raked his fingers through Tweek’s hair, a small groan emanating from the little blond, Craig’s other hand gripping Tweek’s skinny hip, his thumb absently tracing back and forth against his baggy t-shirt.
Craig could feel Tweek’s pounding heart against his chest, a small smile breaking out across his lips as he decided he maybe liked the taste of coffee now.
It was a real, foot-poppin’ kiss.
They pulled apart slowly, eyeing each other’s red lips and flushed cheeks.
“Wow.” Craig chuckled under his breath. Tweek smiled and brushed his thumb along Craig’s lower lip, purple and bruised, now aggravated and swollen. Craig would say it was well worth the pain.
“So we’re really doing this?” Tweek whispered feebly.
Craig nodded, brushing his lips against the bruise under Tweek’s eye tenderly.
Tweek tipped his head up and caught Craig’s lips once more.
They stood by the door, quiet in their tender moment.
That is, until Tweek started giggling quietly to himself.
“What?” Craig questioned self consciously, was it his kissing technique? Did he even have one? What the fuck was so funny?!
“You cried,” Tweek teased with a smile.
Oh.
“You cried over me.”
Craig shrugged him off as Tweek’s smile broke out into full on laughter.
Craig blushed. “I can’t help it, you make me lose control of my emotions.”
“I know. I know,” Tweek collected himself, looking up at Craig with a glint in his eye. “You do that to me too.”
Craig found himself stretched out across Tweek’s bed once more, now with the little blond bundled up in his arms, underneath a canopy of lights. They listened to music and talked about the stars, falling asleep beneath the open window as the chilly scent of Autumn breathed down on their faces.