Chapter Text
It was rubber. Everything was. From the soles of his shoes to the buttons on his dress shirt. It wasn't real, he knew it. He knew it distinctly from the smell and taste of the object, he knew it wasn't real, it was rubber, he knew. He raised his left arm and couldn't help but wonder if he was made out of rubber, his thoughts seemed to go on forever as the clock was. Everything was silent, but just for a moment, as he felt himself stir out of his sleep. But, he wasn't sleeping, was he dreaming? Was it some elaborate plan to awaken what spirit had cursed him? Or did he truly feel as if time had stopped, for just a fragment of memories he had once cherished. The laughter of Stan and Wendy filled his mind, only to be gone in an instant. The sluggish thought pulled him back to reality. He was still in bed, his left arm cramping from how long he had it up. He wasn't real, there was just no way.
— — —
The sun glared at him through his peripheral vision, the subtle disturbance caused him to squint his eyes and grimace. He trudged deeper into the forest, the tall grasses rubbed against his bare leg and irritated his sensitive skin but he paid no mind to it as it had been this way for years. Kyle liked it that way. The simplicity and predictability of the tall grasses brushing against his legs satisfied him in a way he could never understand.
Finally, after many minutes of walking down the stupidly long trail, he finally reached it. The trail led to an open field surrounded with trees. The scene was a lively green, occasionally a few blotches of brown would slip in, branches and tree trunks hid behind vibrant plants and leaves. It was his favorite spot, not just because it was beautiful, but because it was his. He startled at the calming laughter soothing his ear. He paused and pursed his lips, something, no, someone was here, someone he didn't recognize. He shifted his body forward, a stray curl fell onto his left eye.
“Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer.” Kyle jumped as a deep, nasally voice appeared behind him. He spun around and landed straight into Craig's chest. He stuttered over his words.
“What are you even doing here? This is my spot.” He jabbed his finger in Craig's chest. The latter squinted and rolled his eyes.
“Can’t a guy hang out with his boyfriend every once and awhile?” As if on cue, Tweek stumbles over, a large woven basket filled with various berries and fruits in his hands.
“Cr-craig! Those stupid hillbillies were bl-blocking my way. I didnt get the raspberries I want…ed..” Tweek peers from behind the basket, his eyes landing on Kyle. Tweek’s words trail off as he examines the ginger in front of him. “Kyle?! Agh-! What are you even doing here?!”
Kyle grits his teeth and glues his eyes shut. “What are you guys doing here? This is supposed to be my spot.” Craig faces Tweek, a dumbfounded look on his face. He gingerly takes the basket from his boyfriend’s hands.
“Well, er- Kyle, me and Tweek decided it would be best for us to take a walk, we went off trail and kinda ended up here.” Craig fumbled with his words, which was odd, Kyle had never seen Craig even remotely nervous.
“So you’re telling me, that you somehow ended up here from a random trail? I don't believe it.” Kyle crossed his arms, and glared daggers into them.
Tweek lets out a tiny exhale, seemingly exasperated at their fighting. “We came here to talk to you about Stan. We know how much you care about him, and we want to get y’all back together.” Kyle scoffs but sits down reluctantly.
— — —
The icy wind bit at Craig’s teeth, the crunch of the grass beneath Tweek’s shoes pulled him out of his daze.
“H-how much longer till w-we get to his hou-house?” Tweek stammered out, fingers thrumming against his thigh.
Craig took a minute to look up, the house in front loomed over him. It wasn't terribly worn down, but it was raggedy enough to know that the occupants did not bother to concern themselves with it. Craig inhaled deeply, taking in the unruly sight.
“Wow.” Craig deflated. “I honestly expected worse, y’know. I mean this is Randy and Stan we’re talking about here.” He looked over to see Tweek stifling his laugh, in fear he might feel guilty about it. Tweek commented anyway.
“Im just surprised the walls aren’t collapsing on themselves.” A small snicker escaped from Craig, sending a rush of dopamine to the other boy's head.
Tweek stepped forward, trudging over to the staircase. He grimaced at how aged it looked, wondering how Kyle, a major germaphobe, ever put up with this. The bars on the staircase had rusted so deeply, you could not tell whether this was its original color, or it had become like this over time. Tweek stared at his feet, he noticed the questionable stains littering the floor. He did not know whether to feel grateful that they were dry, or disgusted that they were there in the first place.
Craig walked over to the staircase, hesitant to walk on it, but deciding to anyway. “God, this place is a dump, I take back what I said earlier, I expected better than this.” Tweek tugged on Craig’s sleeve.
“If this is how the staircase looks, imagine how bad the house is.” Tweek picked at his fingernails, feeling extremely uneasy. Craig shuddered at the thought of it.
Not wanting to stall any further, Craig finally knocked on the door. It took about 5 minutes for someone to, the hinges creaking wildly. A short, brunette woman dressed in a black dress opened the door.
“Can I help you?” Her voice laced a bit of venom the pair did not want to interfere with.
Craig cleared his throat and replied. “Is Stan here?” He watched her face contort into a small frown.
“Oh, the turd? He’s upstairs.” She stepped aside to let the pair pass through.
Tweek thanked her quietly before heading upstairs. Craig noticed the alcohol bottles that littered the floor, and he felt a bit sorry for Stan for having to live in a dump like this.
Reaching the top of the stairs, the woman from before yelled at them from the door. “And don’t go tryna go recruit him for some gay ass pride parade because he’s already part of one!” She snickered before closing the door and walking over to the kitchen.
Tweek and Craig looked at each other in disbelief, before bursting out laughing. “Okay, okay. We really need to get to Stan.” Craig grabbed Tweeks hand and marched over to Stan’s door.
They stood there for a few seconds before knocking on the door. A tired groan and a bit of shuffling came from inside, but alas, the door opened.
Stan opened his mouth to say something, but stopped once he realized who it was. “Craig? Tweek? What the hell are you guys doing here..?”
A second passed, and then another, and finally. “Stan, we need to talk.”