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There was something about Craig Tucker's voice that made the words "You can do this" actually stick in Tweek's brain like nothing could before. For some reason, Tweek believed him when he was the one saying it. Even more, his performance during their fake breakup in front of the entire school was evidence enough that he could follow through as long as Craig gave him that necessary first push.
And now, he needed it again. Desperately.
Tweek squeezed his eyes shut as he stood ankle-deep in the snow at the bus stop, trying with all his might to conjure the sound of Craig's voice in his brain, even as his fried nerves fizzed and popped and threw off his train of thought every time he tried to focus. You can do this. You can do this. You can do this…
"Hey."
Tweek shrieked at the sudden noise - then his heart immediately did a second backflip in a row upon laying eyes on Craig himself. "God!" he exclaimed. "Don't do that!"
"Sorry," said Craig, shuffling ninety degrees to stand shoulder to shoulder with Tweek on the curb. He said nothing else.
Tweek ogled at him - or, at least, he ogled as much as his compulsive twitching allowed. Craig looked fucking unbothered. Cool as ever. Blank expression, dark brows flat, nose cutting an unapologetic profile against the snowy backdrop. He wore an oversized letterman jacket that day with blue sleeves and striped cuffs that matched his favorite ever-present winter hat. His dark washed jeans contoured to the long, slender lines of his legs without clinging. His breath clouded past his full lips-
No! Tweek shook himself like a dog. Not the time! Focus! You can do this…!
The bus was late. They could usually blame Kyle for that, since it looped through his block before swinging by Tweek's and Craig's and the redhead always seemed to come flying out his front door, backpack unzipped and trailing papers, at the last possible second. Unfortunately, that meant that Tweek was stuck in the snow under the yellow bus sign next to Craig for longer than he could stand.
You can do this you can do this you can do this-!
"You good?"
"Huh?" said Tweek. Craig had turned his face just a fraction in his direction. His bronze eyes looked soft - or maybe concerned? - even though the rest of his face hadn't changed. Tweek's heart thudded again at the sight. "No, I'm fine! I'm totally good! Ready as I'll ever be!" He winced at a particularly intense tic.
Craig faced front again. "You know, we don't have to-"
"No! I'm good! Don't worry about it, gah!"
"Are you-"
"Yes, I'm sure!" He shivered. "Just… I'll be fine. I promise."
Craig slid his hand out of the pocket of his letterman jacket and glanced away. It took Tweek a second to realize that he'd done it to extend his backwards palm into the space between them. Fingers spread just a little.
Waiting.
Oh geez, Tweek thought on reflex, but he swallowed it down. Shutting his eyes, he felt his way into that space with his pinky finger until it brushed the other boy's hand. Their palms slid together easily from there. Like puzzle pieces.
Just like the first time, it felt… nice.
"You can do this," murmured Craig, and Tweek squeezed his hand tight.
"I know," he exhaled. "I know."
The bright yellow bus took the corner at the end of the road a little too fast as usual. They watched it sway itself back upright as it approached. Slush ground under its brakes before them. Heads and hats poked up over the windowsills above. Eyes, too. There were lots of those. Tweek and Craig's stop was one of the last in the route.
Tweek didn't let go of his hand. Craig didn't either.
You can do this.
They offered their mindless "good mornings" to the bus driver as they climbed in. Craig slung his backpack down in one of the seats at the front. Tweek dropped so heavily beside him that the gray synthetic cushion bounced. He could feel the eyes of the entire bus on the back of his head like dozens of crawling ants.
But their hands were still clasped against their thighs. Above everything else that day, Tweek refused to let that fall to the wayside.
Craig leaned in as the bus lurched forward. "Just so you know… you can let go anytime. If it ever becomes too much," he said.
Tweek nodded. "I will," he said, then winced. "Ngh! I mean… I don't want to. But I… I will if I have to."
"Okay."
"And that goes for you too, alright?" he said. Craig blinked. "I-I'm serious! This can't just be about me, okay? I know you're a lot calmer about this than I am, but-"
Craig snorted. "Who said I was any calmer?" he muttered.
"You…" Tweek shook his head and squeezed his hand. Craig squeezed back, still avoiding eye contact even though his face had gone pink. Maybe that's just how he shows his own nerves, he wondered. It made sense for the ever-stoic Craig. "You can let go, too," he said.
Craig mumbled something. Tweek frowned, and Craig said louder: "Not going to, but thanks."
"Okay," said Tweek. He squared himself in his seat and tried not to jostle the entire shitty bus cushion with the force of his anxious knee bouncing for the rest of the short ride to the high school.
It was upon them all too quickly. Tweek was forced to detatch their hands in order to shuffle down the aisle and step out onto the sidewalk, but he splayed out his fingers for Craig the instant his sneakers hit the ground. Craig's interlaced with his immediately.
The entire student body of South Park High School spread before them, milling before the doors in wait of the first bell.
"Oh, man," Tweek whispered.
"Yeah," said Craig.
"We can do this, right?"
He nodded. "We can do this."
The buzzer rang over the loudspeaker. The crowd funneled straight for the front doors like water down a pulled drain, and Tweek and Craig let the current sweep them along. Everyone in their immediate vicinity seemed too pressed-together and engrossed in their own loud conversations to notice the two boys holding hands in their midst, which Tweek wasn't sure was better or worse than being noticed. On one hand, the idea of drawing attention made him want to throw up and hide.
On the other… he really, really, really wanted everyone to see what he was finally confident enough in himself to do.
He got his wish as soon as they made it to the second floor and the current thinned against the lockers slamming open and shut in preparation for first period. The two of them hit Craig's first, then Tweek's, even though they were only a few paces away by last name in the tenth grade hallway - too many paces to keep their hands clasped together. They were drawing stares, now. Conversations stuttered to a halt as they passed. Kyle, standing watch next to Stan Marsh's locker, gave them a brief halfhearted wave, which Craig returned with a mere dip of the chin.
"Everyone's looking, oh God," Tweek muttered through his teeth.
"And they're smiling," Craig muttered back. "And we're walking… and they're moving on…"
"There's no way they're just moving on, Craig. They're gonna keep talking about it. Everyone's gonna know by lunch-"
"And this is what we wanted," he said. He sounded to Tweek like he was reminding them both equally. Tweek bared his teeth with a reluctant groan of agreement.
They walked into their first period algebra classroom side by side. Tweek had to squeeze Craig's hand like a stress ball to keep himself grounded and not check to make sure every face settling into the desks wasn't turned their way, even though he knew by the time they stepped into the aisles that they absolutely were. Craig sat heavily in his assigned desk at the back of the room. Tweek alighted on the very edge of the seat to his right. Their joined hands bridged the gap. If anyone were to look at Craig in particular from the right angle, slouched backwards and fiddling with his mechanical pencil in his off hand, no one would even know what he was doing with his other.
Tweek, stuck in his seat, had never felt more exposed. Their singular point of contact was the only thing keeping him from vibrating out of his skin.
Kyle was the first and only person to approach them, and only then it was because his seat was right in front of Tweek. Tweek froze from his head to his feet as soon as the other boy came to an awkward halt. Craig just flicked his eyes up. "Hey," Kyle said, somewhat strained even as he pressed a smile. His green eyes noticeably dropped to their joined hands before returning to their faces.
Tweek squeaked. Craig grunted noncommittally.
Kyle's hand lowered to fidget against his desktop, but he didn't sit down. "So, uh… what's up?"
"Nothing," said Craig.
Oh my God, cringed Tweek.
"Cool. Uh… good weekend?" Craig shrugged, and Kyle blessedly gave up at that point. "Alright. Cool, guys."
He sat down, and as soon as they were out of his line of sight, Tweek yanked his hand away and gripped it against his thundering heart. Craig immediately looked over. "You okay?" he whispered.
"I just need… I just…" Tweek exhaled sharply. "I need a sec. Jesus fuck. Holy shit…"
"Okay," said Craig, and they both settled into their seats as best as they could.
It was too much. It was exactly what he'd hoped it would be. Tweek didn't absorb a single word of their algebra teacher's lesson for the entire period. He sat hunched over his desk, bouncing his heel as hard and fast as he physically could, chin in his hands and chewed pencil loose in his fingers, staring at the numbers on the white board until they all wriggled together into an incomprehensible tangle. His brain was on fire - screaming, overheated, out of control.
I can't do this I can't do this I can't do that again-!
The bell between periods caught him off guard. Half the class was already packing up. Tweek threw his blank notebook into his bag and shot to his feet, tailing Craig down the aisles, and as soon as they both broke free of the lines of desks, he grabbed him by the elbow of his letterman jacket with both hands and tucked it hard against his own side.
"Hello," Craig blinked.
"Sorry," said Tweek, except he wasn't really, because as soon as his body made contact with Craig's his wild brain went silent. He took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slow. "Okay. I'm never doing that again."
"Do what-"
"Letting go. I can't think. That was hell. Oh, my God."
"Oh."
Craig looked the other way when they stepped back into the hallway, and Tweek remembered with a jolt that Craig still had nerves of his own. "I-I'm sorry, is this too much?" he said, letting his opposite hand fall to his side.
Craig's throat bobbed with his swallow. "No, it's… it's fine."
"You don't sound fine-"
"I'll be fine. It's just… new."
Tweek stared at him. "New… but not, like… bad?"
"No," he nodded, setting his chin. "Not bad."
They thankfully had second period together, as well. And it was biology, so they could hide their joined hands relatively easily at the tall black-topped lab tables. And, none of their other close friends were in it, so all Tweek had to deal with was whispers hidden behind hands from people he didn't actually know all that well. Taking notes was tricky to navigate one-handed at first, but the drawbacks were vastly compensated by the comfort of Craig's touch. He was so warm. Tweek had to let go several times over the course of the period just to wipe his own sweaty palm on his jeans before taking hold again. Every time, Craig's pencil stopped moving and his bronze eyes flicked over to him. A silent check-in. If Tweek's heart didn't stop pulsing with such overwhelming and all-consuming affection, he was going to have a heart attack and drop dead off his stool.
Normally, a thought like that would have made him panic. Right now, he didn't think it sounded so bad, actually.
Bio went by way too fast, and as they left the room behind, Tweek's nerves crept back in. He and Craig stopped short at the end of the T-shaped intersection. From here, Tweek went left to English.
And Craig went right to study hall.
They lingered. The throngs of students flowed around them. Tweek shot Craig a look, and Craig eyed him right back. His brows were pushed up in the middle and his jaw was tight.
Definitely Craig-style nerves.
Tweek bunched up his shoulders and attempted to crack a smile to soothe the tension. It felt more like a wince. "I guess… see you at lunch, then?"
"Yeah," rasped Craig. A pair of girls passed close by them, both of them slowing to ogle open-mouthed at their hands. Craig flipped them the bird, and they moved on, whispering hurriedly.
He's gonna be worse off than me, Tweek realized in that moment.
And before he could think better of it, he took Craig by the shoulder and tugged him into a furious embrace.
Craig stiffened at once, but Tweek just fisted his hands in his jacket, arms thrown around his neck and forehead against his shoulder. He felt arms wrap up under his armpits to hold him tight against him. Craig Tucker smelled… nice, up close. Laundry detergent and skin and that really good men's shampoo of his that always clung to his blue knit cap. With his nose tucked into his own long-sleeved button-down, Tweek could even smell the faint whiff of coffee that always hung around everything he himself owned.
They clutched each other as tight and as long as they dared. Then, when too many bodies passed them by, Tweek let go. "Okay. Bye," he said loudly, turning hard on his heel and taking off at a speed walk for English, face burning bright red.
It's okay. I'm fine. I can do this, he reminded himself with every footfall.
With the sensation of Craig's warm body pressed against his own still tingling down his arms and chest, he set his chin and found that he believed it.
Study hall that day was tolerable enough, in Craig's opinion, because the shenanigans that had already gone down that year - most of them featuring Craig's own involvement - had banned them all from speaking until after Christmas break. The third period hall monitor was a ball-breaker about it, too. So Craig could put his feet up on a desk in the back and do absolutely nothing for fifty minutes aside from dread what was coming immediately after.
The painfully fresh memory of Tweek throwing his arms around his neck and slamming them into a hug in the middle of the hallway during class change was his only solace. But damn, was it a good one. Craig really thought he was done being surprised by Tweek Tweak, but he'd already been pleasantly surprised far more times than he was expecting to that day and it wasn't even lunch. He would have never thought Tweek would be the one to initiate their first hug in public. Definitely not this early.
And Craig definitely hadn't anticipated how much he'd needed that hug at the time he'd given it. The bloom of effervescent joy lasted all the way through third period and right up to the threshold of his fourth.
That was when it dropped dead on arrival.
"Oh, look, it's Craig!"
Because of course Eric fucking Cartman had beaten him to Euro. He had Stan and Butters hanging around his desk, too, both of whom whirled around at the sound of Craig's name.
Fuck me backwards. Craig clenched his jaw and dropped his backpack into his seat, eager to ignore him.
But it was never going to be that easy. Cartman pulled a cutesy chin-in-his-hands pose as he leaned into Craig's peripheral vision, fluttering his lashes like a fucking cherub. "Heyyy, Craig," he cooed. "So, I heard through the grapevine today that a certain someone gave you a little somethin'-somethin' in the hall before third period. That true?"
"No," said Craig.
"Are you sure? Because I had it on good authority that you were seen puckering up in full view of the science wing…"
"We didn't fucking kiss, who told you that?"
Craig realized his mistake as soon as he said it, because Cartman's impish smile widened like the Cheshire cat. "Oh, nobody. But what did you and Tweek do in the halls that got everyone so excited, then, if you weren't sharing a little smooch?"
"Man, leave him alone," said Stan.
Cartman ignored him. "I thought you two were broken up, Craig. Don't play with our hearts. Are you gay lovers with Tweek or not?"
"How about you mind your own fucking business, Cartman?" Craig snapped.
"Sounds like there's still trouble in paradise," Cartman leaned back to shoot Butters a knowing look. Butters giggled. Craig resisted the urge to give the kid another eye scar to match the one he already had.
Cartman gave an exaggerated stretch. "Well, if you didn't want people to know you were clapping Tweek cheeks again, you shoulda been a little more careful about who you do it around-"
Craig shot out of his seat. "Don't you say a fucking word about Tweek, motherfucker, you hear me?" he said, slamming his hand on the desk. The same hand that still remembered the sweaty warmth of another…
"Me? I wouldn't dare!" said Cartman innocently. "I love Tweek. No homo. Even Butters knows I love Tweek, right, Butters?"
Butters perked up. "Oh, yeah, for sure, Craig, Eric doesn't mean nothin' by it. Everyone's happy you fellas are clappin' cheeks again-"
"Butters, don't," Stan warned, pushing the blond kid down into his seat. He shot Craig an apologetic look over Cartman's fat, satisfied head. "It's seriously chill, dude. Don't listen to these two idiots. If you're cool, we're cool."
"Whatever," said Craig, hating how hot his face had gotten. It took a lot for a blush to show up on his complexion, but he knew there was no hiding the one he was sporting now. Even when he sat back down and tried to tune out Cartman's giggling, it felt like a giant billboard plastered across his face for everyone walking into Euro to read.
Craig Tucker is gay! Look, everybody! Cartman name dropped Tweek Tweak and Craig went red as a berry! He's so fucking gay, you guys! Everyone point and laugh at the giant fag in the blue cap…!
A few students Craig sort of knew said hi to him as they filtered into class, which was not normal but at least nobody else explicitly asked him about third period. Craig didn't respond to any of them with more than a halfhearted grunt.
I need to calm down.
He thought about the look in Tweek's wide, gray eyes in the seconds before he hugged him. That flash of certain clarity that softened his anxiety-tightened features into something unfairly adorable. We can do this, Tweek had said.
So Craig squared his shoulders and pulled out his Euro notes as their teacher strode in and closed the door to the hall behind him.
They took notes on the Protestant Reformation for the first half of class, then they were released into assigned groups to work on their midterm projects. None of Craig's groupmates paid him any special attention, thank God, but a certain wheedling, nasal voice in the group at his back made his hackles raise.
"I'm just so confused, man," Cartman sighed to Stan and Butters. Clearly just loud enough for Craig to overhear. "Like, what am I supposed to do with all this sad Craig and Tweek yaoi art I bought at the art fair if they're no longer sad and yaoi?"
Craig gripped his pencil and set his jaw. I'm not taking that bait, Cartman. You don't get to see a reaction out of me twice in a row…
"Dude, come on. Would you let it drop?" said Stan.
"Don't tell me you're not invested in this blossoming love story, Stan. You know Wendy ships those two hard."
"No, she doesn't."
"Well, she gave the speech in the auditorium," said Butters.
"It wasn't like she knew beforehand that 90% of the art they submitted was Tweek and Craig being gay."
"Yaoi, Stan, it's called yaoi," said Cartman.
"Shut up. Seriously, can we get back to this PowerPoint? I don't give a fuck if Craig and Tweek are dating again and neither should you."
Butters frowned. "Well, wait a minute. Were they really already dating before all that art blew up? I thought they were tellin' everybody they weren't gay. And then there was that big fight-"
"Sexual tension was off the charts-"
"Shut up, Cartman."
"Yeah, Eric, I didn't really think there was anything sexual about it when it was happening. I think they were just embarrassed and lashin' out, you know?"
"That's because you're a fucking moron, Butters."
"W-What? Am not!"
"Oh, yeah? Which royal asswipe founded the Church of England, dipshit?"
Butters grumbled. "Er, maybe let's just work on this PowerPoint after all…"
Craig kept one ear out for any more bullshit from Cartman, but to his surprise, it barely came up after that point. Every time he tried to make a passing jackass comment - on a scale from Tweek to Craig, how gay do you think John Calvin was, guys? - either Stan or Butters shut him down or outright ignored him. Craig didn't have to turn around once.
So Cartman's an asshole, he told himself as the period wound down. What else is fucking new? Nobody else is taking his shit. Nobody else has even said a word to me.
Maybe… it really was chill. Maybe everyone was happy. Maybe nobody aside from Cartman was going to point fingers and call him a little faggot after all. Craig could take it from Cartman. Cartman was easy to write off as a bastard and move on.
Wide gray eyes and a smile flickering to life.
For the first time that period, Craig didn't feel that familiar swell of shame when Tweek Tweak's face floated through his mind's eye. All he felt was a small bloom of hand-warmed hope, deep in the safety of his heart.
"Okay, dude, you have got to tell us. What the fuck is going on with you and Craig?"
Tweek had to fend off about a billion variations of that same question over the course of their agonizing midday separation. Kyle in particular couldn't seem to let it go, which sucked extra hard when gym class didn't give Tweek any excuses to avoid him, but at least he seemed nice about it. Mostly.
"I-I don't want to talk about it, alright? Geez! Leave me alone!" he'd finally snapped after Kyle's needling almost distracted him into taking a basketball to the face. That stopped the questioning, but it didn't stop the stares. Real stares - not the ones Tweek always imagined lingering on his skinny, knobby legs exposed by his uniform shorts for once.
Tweek fucking hated gym class.
He practically sprinted through the halls after the bell released them from the locker rooms. His ratty backpack slapped against his tailbone with every stride. He only slowed his roll once the halls became too congested with milling students to run, but that just made his anxiety spike to astronomical heights with every wasted second.
Come on come on I need this I need this I—
The cafeteria lobby opened up before him. Tweek's sigh of relief left him like a gasp.
And loitering next to one of the many pairs of double doors was the yellow pom-pom of a familiar blue cap, poking out over the sea of bobbing heads.
Tweek shouldered in. "Hey!"
Craig's tension-pinched face relaxed immediately upon laying eyes on him. In the place of a greeting, he wrapped one arm around Tweek's shoulders and tucked him into a quick hug. Tweek jumped where he was pressed into him.
Warm. So warm…
"Y-you good?" Tweek asked when Craig let him go.
"Fine," he said. "I'm starving. Let's go."
"How was Euro?"
Craig's jaw twitched. "Better than I was expecting," he admitted. Tweek opened his mouth to ask how that could possibly be - Cartman wasn't known for his sympathy - but Craig just slid his hand down the inside of Tweek's arm until it reached his palm and interlocked their fingers.
A stripe of white-hot heat licked straight down Tweek's spine in time with the motion. All he could think about was how that would have felt without long sleeves on. If Craig had trailed his fingertips along the soft inner skin of his elbow—
He shuddered hard to dispel that thought. Not now!!
They drifted through the thronging kitchen stations with their trays, throwing on whatever mediocre shit caught their eye, and punched out side by side. Tweek had to white-knuckle his plastic tray against his stomach with his other hand occupied. They made their usual beeline for their group's table.
Tolkien, Clyde, and Jimmy were already there. All three were dead silent as Tweek and Craig pulled out two seats side by side and took their places. Tweek squeezed Craig's hand tightly under the table to resist the urge to put both of them flat on his tray.
It was… easier, he realized. Already, that urge to go back to his unassuming routine was getting easier to ignore.
"Hey, guys," said Tolkien.
"Mmf," said Craig through a huge bite of breaded chicken patty sandwich.
Jimmy leaned over to Clyde. "I didn't think they were really d-doing it," he murmured, and Clyde flicked his brows in agreement. Tweek's stomach turned.
Craig swallowed. "What."
"Nothing," said Clyde. Too quickly.
"Something you wanna say to us?"
"Nope," Tolkien declared, taking a bite of his own flat cheeseburger to prove it.
"Are you really d-dating now?"
Both of them snapped to Jimmy, who put his hands up. "It's just a question!"
"I-I don't know," Tweek exclaimed, just as Craig said, "What's it to you if we are?"
Tweek whirled. Craig shot him a glance. They hadn't discussed this. Holding hands all day, sure. Hugging in public, sure.
But dating…?
Well… it wasn't like Tweek didn't want to. His traitorous thoughts had given that much away already. Dating Craig… for real.
Being gay… for real.
"Are we?" Tweek whispered, barely loud enough over the din of the cafeteria to hear himself.
But Craig heard him. Either that, or he was already asking himself the same question. "Whatever you want," he mumbled.
Whatever I want?
"Hey, Tweek?"
A feminine voice startled a shout out of him, and he twisted around in his chair to see Wendy Testaburger stanced up with her lunch tray, Bebe and Nichole at her back. All three of them had the same stony, hostile look on their faces. Wendy in particular had it trained on the back of Craig's head until he turned around, too.
"What do you want," he said.
"We weren't talking to you," said Bebe.
"Oh, God," Tweek wheezed.
"Tweek," said Wendy, tilting her head definitively to him, "I don't know what's going on with you today, but the girls and I agreed that we need to make sure we nip this in the bud before anybody else has to get hurt."
Tweek's mouth hovered open. "What?!"
"Don't worry, Tweek. This is totally normal. We've seen it happen a million times," said Bebe gently.
"We just want to make sure it doesn't happen to you," said Nichole.
Wendy nodded. Her expression was still stony, but behind it she looked… worried? "Listen," she said. "We're here for you. You've never had to deal with boys being assholes before, but we have. And I just want to say that I don't give a fuck about whatever empty promises Craig fed you in order to get with you again. He fucking cheated on you. You deserve better than someone like that."
Tweek and Craig sat speechless. For a long moment.
"There are plenty of other queer guys in school, Tweek. You can find someone else," Bebe supplied.
Craig snapped out of it first. "Dude. I'm right here."
"Shut up, Craig. No one wants to hear it from you."
"I don't…" Tweek's chaotic thoughts whirled around in a tornado of confusion… and another emotion he couldn't quite put his finger on. A hotter one. A sharper one.
"Take it from me," said Wendy. "Never get back with your ex. It's way more trouble than it's worth."
"Stan is your ex, bitch," exclaimed Craig.
Bebe ignored him. "Wendy's right. Don't listen to him. You're just delaying the inevitable and making yourself miserable in the meantime," she told Tweek.
That hot, whirling feeling was coalescing inside of him like the birth of a star. "I wasn't…"
"You were," said Wendy. "Tweek, you were furious enough with the fucked shit he did to you to call him out in front of the whole school. Don't gaslight yourself. You were right to call it off-"
"No, I wasn't."
All three girls balked as Tweek kicked himself up out of his chair. His fists trembled at his sides. He'd let go of Craig's hand, but he didn't need that tether right now. The clarity burning inside him fueled his every word.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he exclaimed. "You weren't there. None of you were. You didn't hear any of the conversations leading up to that fight and you didn't hear any of the ones that came after. You have no idea what actually happened."
Wendy blinked. "Then enlighten us."
"No," he said. "It's none of your fucking business, Wendy. I'm not telling you shit."
"But—"
"Wendy, back off," growled Craig, but he didn't stand up. Instead, it was Tweek planted between them, twitching like a leaf but rooted firmly where he stood.
"Maybe I actually like Craig, alright?" said Tweek. "Gah! Maybe I don't want to date just some random queer guy at school. Maybe I want to date him."
The girls shared identical bewildered looks. Distantly, Tweek was aware that their confrontation had quieted much of the conversations happening at tables around them. He didn't care. It was none of their business. None of them knew the same truths that he and Craig knew. Let them stare.
He… he didn't care.
"What led up to me calling him out was a big misunderstanding, alright? That's all you need to know. I'm fine. I'm happy. S-so just… just fuck off, okay?"
Wendy gazed between the two of them. "Okay," she said.
"Okay!?" asked Bebe.
"It's none of our business, Bebs. If he's really fine with it, there's no point in us getting involved."
"Damn right," muttered Craig.
Wendy actually cracked a half smile in Tweek's direction. "We're here for you, Tweek. Just want you to know that."
"Thanks," he squeaked as the girls took their trays and strode off. He stood frozen on his feet for a good few moments before something touched his wrist - Craig's fingertips - and eased him clumsily back into his seat. Tweek's mind whirled, coming down from whatever high had just struck him.
Tolkien, Jimmy, and Clyde had completely abandoned their lunches. Tolkien still had his burger in his hand. Mortification flooded Tweek's body. "Don't… don't look at me like that, guys, agh!"
"You're really serious about this, then," said Clyde. "You're… you're dating. Each other. Romantically—"
"That's what dating means, jackass," said Craig, but his face was also violently red beneath his perpetual tan.
"Good," said Tolkien.
Tweek ogled him. "G-good?"
"Yeah. You guys are good together." He gestured with his burger. "I've never seen you do that for anyone else, Tweek. That was… really cool to watch."
He's right.
"Not to mention, I never thought anything could turn Craig into a hugger."
"Fuck off," said Craig, blushing harder.
"Leave him alone. He's right. You're softer than you think," Tweek mumbled under his breath.
At the very least that got Craig's shoulders to lower from his ears, but his bronze eyes cut away. "Yeah. Sorry."
"You don't have to be sorry. I…" Tweek pushed his mashed potatoes around on his plate. "I… ngh. I kinda like it."
Between their chairs underneath the cover of the table, Craig slipped his fingers between Tweek's. Warm touch brushed over delicate skin. Tweek shivered. Craig just squeezed them harder.
Hand in hand in full view of the crowded cafeteria. There could be no mistaking it now, and for once, that knowledge buoyed him higher instead of weighing him down. This was what he'd wanted all along. He was dating Craig for real.
Being gay… for real.