Chapter Text
Silence hangs thickly through the air clinging to the darkness, it moves much like shadows. All is still, all is calm, all is far from right. Craig Tucker lays awake his large blue comforter pulled up to his chin. His blue space pajama bottoms cling uncomfortably to his skin. His dark hair plastered against his face. His emerald eyes staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. The glowing space decals, stars, planets, a alien spaceship, a whole freaking universe are the only source of light in his room, probably even the entire house. They glow ominously, wickedly, beckoning his mind to think of things he rather not. He should really take the decals down. It's not that he no longer liked space, it's not that he found the decals childish(even If they kind are) no its because they are a painful reminder of him!
Not for the first time in the last few weeks does the memory come unwanted. Craig had just turned 11 and for his birthday Tweek had gotten him the package of space decals. It had been a simple present but the thought his then 10 year old best friend had put into his gift had caused his heart to swell and then race. He hadn't really understood the significance of what was happening and had just hugged the twitchy blond. He had held him for a good solid minute longer then normal ignoring the strange looks his other friends had given him. He then had dragged Tweek upstairs. The two of them spent the rest of his birthday party painstakingly arranging and rearranging the decals until they were just right.
Now just over 5 years to that exact day Craig looks up at the decals again, he frowns, takes a deep breath and then flips those fuckers off. The decals seem to glow brighter as if they are mocking him. Its always late at night when the silence becomes unbearable that his treacherous thoughts push aside the bitterness and anger and dwell on the past. Where memories of Tweek swirl around him and the weight of just what he lost, just what the other had thrown away haunts him.
The decals are beckoning him again their malevolent light fading and morphing into memories. He is sitting in the middle of their schools gym. Wendy is standing in front of the entire school going on and on about the Asian girls. Craig Is barely paying attention his focus is on his best friend who is sitting a few seats away from him. Craig Is openly pouting he wants to sit beside Tweek but Kyle and Stan had slid in between them claiming their bond was closer and therefore they should be the ones seated with one another. Craig would later find out that Wendy had asked Stan to make sure that he was separated from Tweek. Wendy had then unveiled the pictures, the damn photos that had forced the two of them to actually acknowledge just what was between them.
Looking back Craig could see that he handed it badly but he was only 11.5 and didn't know a damn thing about love.
The decals seem to be speaking again, whispering to him of things that would be best not to dwell on.The first sting of love's bitter kiss had been a dozy. Craig and Tweek had spent a entire weekend not speaking to each other. He doesn't recall what exactly their fight had been about just that it was their first and he had thought he was dying. There hadn't really been any resolution to that fight either. He had just calmly walked up to Tweek Monday morning pushed him back against his locker and kissed him.That had pretty much ended their little squabble.It had also been their first kiss, and although it was awful in the sense neither one of them knew what they were doing. It was also the one that Craig's mind always seems to cling to. Their first and now two weeks, 4 days and about 20 hours ago they had their last. He resists thinking of it unlike the memory of their first which is bittersweet this particular memory stings. It twists and turns, stabbing at every part of him, leaving him battered and bruised.For fucks sake he is a walking cliche. Blinking he dismisses that particular memory and yet the after taste of Tweek remains.
Ignoring the urge to stare all night at those decals and be lost in memory after memory. Craig forces his gaze onto his digital alarm clock. 2:35 am.
He groans when he realizes just how late it is, he will never be able to sleep now, and The Coon wanted them hunting down leads first thing.At the thought of Coon and friends his mind drifts to their rivals The Freedom pals. The traitors who had left them lead by Mystrerion. Fucking Mysterion and his fucking mysterious nature and his fucking hotness and his fucking boyfriend stealing ways.
Craig frowns at that though. First their was no evidence (other then his gut) that fucking McCormick was even interested in Tweek. Second Tweek wasn't like that, he wasn't, but he left. He followed Kenny and the others out of the coons lair and fucking left.He left him, threw it all away, and so what else was Craig supposed to think? Fuck he was doing it again thinking of Tweek.
Rubbing at his eyes, Craig sits up and throws the comforter off. He stands and walks to his bedroom door, he opens it and stands in the threshold. Silence has penetrated the hallway, its oozes, the air thick with apprehension. Craig wants to to turn from the hallway and return to bed, return to the bitter frustration of his memories. Instead he steps into the hall the apprehension is stronger and with every step he takes his chest tightens, his breathing because ragged, it's as if he is breathing sludge instead of oxygen.
He is barely holding himself together the glue of indifference he clings to threatens to dissolve at any given moment.Craig has yet to have lost it, he has refused to give into the hopeless ache, the bitter hurt that washes over him anytime someone mentions Tweek's name. If Tweek wanted to throw away the last 5 years to chase after McCormicks dick then who was Craig to stand in the way. No, he refuses to break down. He refuses to give Tweek the satisfaction! Losing the other may as well kill the emotional part of him but he rather let it die then to acknowledge the raw pain surging beneath the surface.
Dread that is the word he had been looking for earlier the air is thick with dread, he just knows something is about to break. Yet, still he moves forward. He needs to sleep, he needs to have one peaceful moment where his every thought isn't haunted by his ex boyfriends treachery. He is not a fool, he knows sleep wont really bring peace. He knows Tweek will plague his dreams but unlike his thoughts Craig doesn't remember his dreams or at the very least he rarely remembers them.
So he moves forward further into the house. He comes to the staircase the ominous dread intensifies.He takes a single shaky breath but instead of providing him with substance, with relief, his chest tightens even more. Its like there is a knot around where his heart should be and its twisting tighter and tighter. Its probably the cursed red string of fate, Craig thinks as he inches closer to the stairs. The damn string feels as if its looped around his neck now and Tweeks pulling, pulling, pulling. His footfalls are soft as they land against the pale beige wood of the stairs.Yet, they sound loud to Craig, thunderous loud as if he had a heard of elephants strapped to his feet.He is at the bottom and in the entry way hallway in no time. He pauses for a moment, adjusting to the thick silence that seems way worse down here. Relief washes over him there is no sound other then his own breathing. He hadn't woken his parents or Tricia up. He doesn't fear repercussion, he is a trouble maker after all, but he also is sick of the pitiful looks his family keeps giving him they look at him like he is a porcelain doll sitting far to close to the edge. He walks past the hallway (making sure to keep his gaze away from the walls) and into the kitchen.
There is a remedy he discovered quite by accident a few years back that helped him sleep. The sleepover had been at Tokens house and the young teens had gotten into Tokens parents liquor cabinet. Craig wasn't really interested in drinking but stupid McCormick kept pouring a amber liquid in Tweek's thermos. This was around the time that Tweek had switched from black coffee to drinking mochas. Tweek never confirmed it,but Craig always suspected it was because he liked the taste of mocha on the others tongue more then coffee .In a bid to protect his Tweek from the perverseness that was Kenny McCormick (like seriously why was he so intent on getting Tweek wasted?) Craig had grabbed the thermos from the twitching blond and drank the concoction himself. Then proceeded to pass out, his head resting on
Tweek's legs. Tweek then of course had turned down all other offers
of alcohol in order to watch over Craig or so he was told.
Craig frowns, and searches the ceiling for wandering stars or planets or perhaps a alien decal which has harpooned his heart.When he is confident that no super natural element is at work here, and it's his own stupidity that has pulled him into yet another memory. He sets forward in his plan to sleep once again.
He reaches behind the stacked pile of bills on the top of the refrigerator and to the very back where his parents keep their liquor cabinet key. Carefully he pulls the key down and walks back into the entrance way.The large wooden liquor cabinet, stained a dark brown sits flat against the wall. It sits right in between two framed drawings of Tweek and him, drawn by the school girls at his school 5 years ago and then bought by his father. He had asked his mother if they could take the photos down numerous times even before the breakup as he found them embarrassing. On the opposite wall scattered between their family photographs had been actual pictures of Tweek and him, which his mother had taken down, but not the two Yaoi prints. His mother had explained that by displaying them his father was making up for how he had treated them when they first came out. Craig suspects his father really kept them up because he believed they would get back together. But this wasn't just some silly squabble this was all out betrayal. Tweek had left him there was no coming back from that.Yet, still the pictures stayed and so Craig has learned how to avoid them, how to avert his gaze.
He does just that focusing on the empty part of the wall directly above the liquor cabinet.
Quickly before his gaze betrays him and falls on the pictures he unlocks the cabinet and pulls out the bottle of baileys. He then spins on his heel turning his back to the art and walks into the kitchen.
Sitting on the counter just beneath the oak cabinets his mom is so proud of is the milk-frother Tweek bought him. He remembers the look of pride on Tweek's face, his blue/green eyes sparkling when he caught Craig taking small sips from Tweek's coffee thermos. Craig had shrugged, and given Tweek a lopsided grin as he reached again for the hot beverage. He didn't like coffee but there was something about mochas. The way the coffee and chocolate came together and made his whole body just tingle with warmth. It was much how the twitchy blond made him feel. Had made him feel, Craig reminds himself as the familiar bitter ache washes over him.
Craig goes to the fridge and pulls out the milk and pours about a cup into the milk- frother he adds a generous portion of baileys to the milk and turns the frother on. Then he turns to the cupboard to his left. He stares at the cupboard for a moment indecisive. He doesn't really like the taste of alcohol even something as simple as baileys. He usually only drinks if he needs help sleeping but because the alcohol burns and leaves a nasty after taste he knows he wont be able to drink it with just heated milk. He plans to add chocolate to it, but the problem is that the hot chocolate mix and tea are all kept in the same cupboard, the cupboard where they kept the coffee. He had asked his parents to get rid of it yet, sometimes early in the morning when he had just woken he swears he can smell the bitter aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Craig's not sure if its just his imagination clinging to yet another memory of Tweek in the early hours before he blinks away the remnants of sleep or if his parents had really listened to his request.
Shaking slightly he reaches up and opens the cupboard. Tea cups and mugs sit silently on the top shelf of the cupboard. In the center of that shelf sits a familiar blue mug it is adorned with hearts, rainbows and a childish sketch of stripe. A relic of another happier time this particular mug calls to him, and before he can stop himself, he is pulling it out of the cupboard. He stares at the mug taking in the care and details that went into making it. His fingertips ghost across the surface of the mug and as they fall across the hearts his eyes begin to fill with tears. No, this was not going to happen there was no fucking way he was going to cry over a fucking stupid mug Tweek had made for him years ago. It didn't matter that it was the very first 'romantic' gift his ex had given him. This wasn't happening! Blinking rapidly he gently places the mug on the counter behind the milk -frother so he would no longer be able to see it. Turning his attention back to the task at hand he reaches back into the cupboard and pulls out another plain ordinary memory free mug. Craig takes a deep breath his heart beating way to fast for his liking. The moment with the mug had been too close . His eyes scan the two shelves below the mugs for any sign of the forbidden beverage. The middle shelf is stacked with packages of tea neatly stacked side by side. His mother in particular was a big tea drinker, sometimes when Tweek was over he would have a cup with her. "NO" he isn't aware he spoke out loud and jumps at the sound of his own voice. This is so fucking stupid he is starting to lose it, the lack of sleep and constant ache lingering just beneath the surface of his indifference starting to take a toll.Another crack in his carefully layered wall breaks and he closes his eyes, counting slowly to ten in order to regain control.
He should be able to make himself a fucking cup of hot chocolate without thinking of that fucking traitor, yet the harder he tries to push Tweek from his mind the harder it becomes.
The beep of the milk-frother pulls him from his misery and he opens his eyes.
He turns his attention back to the cupboard and to the final shelf. Sitting among the sugar dish, creamer, honey and various tea strainers is a container of hot chocolate Vanilla flavored, it's not his favorite but it will do. His slender fingers fall around the base of the container and he pulls it out. If only he had looked down at the floor when he pulled the hot chocolate from the shelf, he wouldn't have seen the edge of the bag sticking out from the back of the shelf the hot chocolate had been hiding it. A large half filled bag of Tweek bros ground coffee. Fuck! The chocolate container and mug fall from his hands and crash to the floor the sound of the mug shattering against the tiled floor is loud and echoes through the house.
Craig's desire for sleep is over written by his need to escape he turns abruptly and runs from the room into the hallway. In his panic to get out of the kitchen he has forgotten to avert his gaze and his eyes fall onto the Yaoi painting closest to him.
It's almost as if he a puppet and Tweek is a puppet master yanking hard on the strings his entire focus now on that particular piece of art. The story of the painting is simple the tale of the red string of fate. Craig is standing behind Tweek leaning forward slightly into the other. His hands resting on the blonds shoulders. Tweek is wearing his usual buttoned up green shirt and is wrapped in a red ribbon. Tangled in the red string of fate that was supposed to bind the two together forever, but there is no forever, just the cold harsh truth of loneliness. The red string it self nothing but a illusion, a fantasy. Craig leans forward till his head is resting against the surface of the painting. His fingers shake as they touch the image of Tweek.and the memory comes.
They are late for the meeting and the coon is impatiently paging them the annoying beep of his alert keeps sounding in Craig's room." all coon and friends report to the coon base. I repeat all coon and friends.." Tweek looks up from the part of the bed he is laying on and glares at the coon alert box. " Go away," he hisses before turning his attention back to Craig who is laying beside him.
Craig smirks at the blond before raising his right hand then flipping the coon alert box off. " Babe...." Tweek doesn't give him a chance to finish, he places a single finger across Craig's bottom lip and then shifts so he is sitting up. "Fuck them," and then he is climbing on top of Craig leaning forward and kissing him. The kiss is brief and Craig finds himself groaning in displeasure as Tweek moves away from him. The blond lays back down resting his head against the older boys chest. Instantly Craig's hands make there way to his golden curls, honey blond strands being smoothed back with the liquid movements of Craig's hand.
Tweek hums in pleasure, closing his eyes briefly, " Promise me we Ahhh will always be like this?" Its more of question then a statement since Tweek's anxiety and all the doubts it brings has never fully released its grip on the blond.
" Tweekers, I..." Craig struggles to find the right words usually in moments like this when Tweek becomes anxious about their relationship Craig would just kiss him but he senses that would only make things worse.
There is a palatable shift about to happen between them, the air thick with tension, and Craig knows he can fuck it all up if he says the wrong thing.
There is only one thing he can say to convey everything but it's so damn cliche and he doesn't want to ruin things by making this into some damn after school special, and yet it's the only thing he can think of in the span of time he has. He knows the longer he takes the more the others anxiety will eat away at the goodness of the moment.
So cliche or not, Craig tucker swallows his pride and tells the truth.
"I love you."
Simple and effective and If the way the blond laying on him has just lit up it was obviously the right move.
"Craig," Tweek leans forward again and peppers craig's face with kisses. " I love your nose" he then kisses the top of Craig's nose, " and I love your ears" He half kisses half bites the outside of Craig's left ear which causes the other to groan.
"And I love your lips," small slight kisses pressed up against Craig's lips.
He pulls away slightly, now sitting, staring down at Craig, one hand playing with the others dark locks the other hand caressing Craig's face.
" And I love you,". And then Craig is pulling him back to him lips crashing against lips.
The memory fades but the echoes of those treacherous words stab at his already raw wounds causing the scraps of his indifference to fall away. "YOU don't" The words spill from him the venom of his truths directed solely at the painted image of Tweek and himself " You never...ever…did." It had never been the memory of that last kiss but the words, I love you, that he has been hiding from. Tweek lied, it had been nothing but a lie, all of it, a lie. Pretend, fantasy. some grand play Tweek had played, drumming a demonic beat on Craig's fragile heart. Anger, hot and bitter pours from him like molten lava without knowing, without caring, without seeing anything but the injustice of betrayal, he yanks the art from the wall and smashes it to ground. Over and over and over again until the print is nothing but a tangled mess of torn paper and broken glass.
Breathing heavy, muscles aching from exhaustion,Craig falls to his knees. His gaze falling back onto the ruined painting. As quick as it had begun the anger washes away, the red hot spokes of lava disappear, and then he comes undone. He doesn't fight against the waves of grief as they wash over him. There is a uncomfortable pressure in his chest A raw edge of pain that grows deeper with every breath. I love you, I love you, I love you, those three little words echo in his brain. Tweek had spoken them so tenderly but now those words are worse then any of the ones spat at him since their break. The memory of that first and last I love you echoing through him twists like a knife. Serrated blades thrusting deeper and deeper into his guts leaving cuts that will not heal. His body shakes, his vision blurs as his gaze falls to the other picture. He stands his legs threatening to give out but somehow he is able to stay standing.
A cold bitter feeling soothes away the pain and for a moment he feels like he is in control again. The indifference he normally wears is nothing but a band aid trying to keep these emotions at bay.
Fuck it. Craig thinks, he will let them consume him, he will let them burn.
He stares at the second picture of the two of them, the lie made real by the fantasies of some grade school girls. The thing about lies though is the truth they hold, but Craig and Tweek's truth is ugly, nothing more then a pathetic one sided love.
Even if it kills him Craig is going to kill that love.
He reaches out for the 2nd painting, ready to smash it like he did the first, he lifts it of the wall. Younger versions of himself and Tweek stare back at him. He is holding Tweek's hand, a cocky look on his own face as he shows the blushing blond another photo. The longer he stares at the painting the harder it is to destroy. It's as if this one piece of art is the only thing that remains. He slides to the ground again, ignoring the shards of glass, and cradles the photo against his chest. Rocking back and forth.
Craig cant deny it anymore he is no longer in control, no he realizes he never was. Tweek is all can see, all he can feel, the only thing that matters and he is gone and Craig is haunted.