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9
Sometimes Craig is unbelievably stupid.
The plan that Stan had concocted to capture the Level 12 thief from the Kupa Kingdom was laughable. In fact, Kyle laughed aloud when he heard his trusted advisor and super best friend suggest they pose as Butters and claim he lost his beloved guinea pig while taking him on a walk, luring him into the Elven Kingdom’s territory.
Yet, here he is, standing before them with the most worried expression he had ever seen cross their frienemy’s face, spouting, “Where the hell is she?!”
“I—Dude, we don’t actually have your guinea pig,” Stan reveals, and Kyle ignores the look of I-told-you-so the knight attempts to send him.
“What the fuck? Butters told me—“
“That was us, you moron!” Kyle exclaims, and stands from his homemade thrown, cape billowing behind him in the way that made him feel super cool. “Guards,”
In a moment, two dorky third-graders with elf-ears and misplaced admiration for Stan and Kyle are at Craig’s side, grasping his arms tightly. The thief grants them a blank gaze before easily shaking them both off, using his superior height to his advantage. With a nod of Kyle’s head, two more join the effort in subduing Craig, one even clinging to his feet.
“Dude, you are trying way too hard.” Craig’s nasally voice spouts to the elven minion with arms circling his legs.
“Enough!” Kyle spouts and continues his descent toward their newly imprisoned foe. “You will tell us where Lord Fatass is hiding the stick, or you will parish!”
Craig narrows his eyes at Kyle for a moment before breaking into a spat of goofy, snorting laughter. Rage bubbles within Kyle’s chest, “I’m serious, assface! We’ll pretend kill you!”
“Then just say that , you geek, not that I’m going to parish,” The dorky cackling continues. Kyle thinks for as “cool” as Craig is supposed to, that laugh certainly does not match the persona.
Kyle rolls his eyes, “Fuck you, I’m trying to be era-compliant. Whatever, just tell us where the stick is!”
“No offense, Buddy, but, I’m way more scared of Cartman than you.” Craig shrugs, the gesture alone almost enough to free himself.
Kyle grits his teeth, scrunches his nose, “You’re a fucking asshole, Craig. Take me to the stick or I’ll actually steal your stupid guinea pig and I’ll make the rumors about you sticking him up your butt true!”
“Her,” Craig corrects.
“What?!” Kyle fires back, furious and confused.
“Stripe is a girl.”
“Whatever! I’ll shove her up your ass!”
“That’s pretty gay.”
“You fucking—“ Kyle seeths, strutting towards the trash-mouth while raising his golf club.
“Okay, alright,” Stan chuckles nervously, grabbing the head of the club and granting Kyle a pointed look. “Let’s just—lower that, please, your highness,” Kyle does as requested and his friend looks to Craig, “Dude, don’t be a dick, we captured you and now you have to show us the stick or else we can kill you and take all your stuff and you have to go back to level 1.”
Craig sighs unenthusiastically. “Fine. But can one of you come instead? This one tried to bite me.”
The third grader on Craig’s left smiles sheepishly at Kyle before he waves a hand and all four remove themselves from the prisoner. Stan rushes to replace them. “I’ll take him.”
Kyle nods and crosses his arms over his chest, eyeing Craig cautiously. “Where is he hiding it?”
Craig glances between Stan’s firm grasp on his arm and sighs. “He’s keeping in his mom’s safe.”
“Sick, dude, that means it’s gonna be with all her vibrators,” Stan complains, putting on a disgusted expression.
“Ah, weak!” Kyle groans. “Do you know the code?”
“No, but I know where he keeps the code. I hope you know we’ll need a distraction, though,” the prisoner explains, peering up at Kyle from beneath the drooping hood of his cloak. “You should come with us and distract Eric.”
Leaving his kingdom in only the hands of his third-grade guards is risky; this means willingly going into enemy territory without himself or his second in command to protect his backyard. It had been over a weak since he even saw the Stick of Truth, though, and it was starting to get pretty fucking irritating. When he saw that a new kid moved into their neighborhood, he conducted a plan to use him as a spy to infiltrate the Kingdom of Kupa Keep and steal the stick, but it seemed as though Cartman had already tricked (and/or bullied) him into joining the wrong side.
Kyle clicks his tongue and swings his golf club up to rest against his shoulder. “Fine. I’ll make up something on the way.”
After a quick lecture about watching over the place, Kyle led Stan and Craig through the first floor of his home. While passing through the living room, Craig grumbles, “You know you don’t have to touch me, right?”
Stan shoots him a glare. “You really think I would trust someone who’s a big a dick as you to not run away?”
Kyle sniggers as he reaches the door and pulls it ajar for the pair of dark-haired boys to pass through. “Craig’s way too lazy to run anywhere.”
Craig scrunches his nose at Kyle’s comment. “I’m not that lazy. I’m doing this shit, aren’t I?”
“Walking around the neighborhood barely helping anyone accomplish anything doesn’t make you active.” Kyle jests as the trio trace through the Broflovski’s lawn.
Having conceded to the point, Craig falls silent and both he and Stan fall behind Kyle’s purposeful stomps. At this point, waltzing into Carmtan’s hideout with minimal backup is just how things are going. He is extremely close to quitting out of pure frustration for Cartman hoarding the stick, so being cautious is on the backburner.
The consequences of his recklessness swiftly become self-evident when he reaches the Cartmans’ lawn. As soon as Kyle’s feet touch the property, they are flocked by four shouting children emerging from the side of the building, homemade and plastic weapons drawn and pointed at Kyle.
“I’m here to talk to Lord Lardass,” Kyle states with his arms in the air. “Not battle.”
Suddenly, the front door slams open and the bane of Kyle’s existence is revealed. Behind him is Butters, whose arms are crossed and face scrunched up in anger, and Kenny, who is twiddling with her curly, blonde wig.
“Well, well, well,” Cartman greets in the annoying, cliche way any villain would. “If it isn’t less cool king and sir douchebag.”
Kenny’s muffled voice questions, “Isn’t that what we’re calling the new kid?”
Cartman shoots her an impatient glare. “Pft—yes, so?!”
The princess shrugs. “I dunno, I think you’ll just confuse people if you start calling Stan it also.”
“It’s fine, Kenny! Just shut up, I’m trying to talk here—“
“All I came to do is talk, Cartman.” Kyle lies, hands still in the air to signify that his intentions are not hostile.
The chubby, robe-clad boy laughs manically and gestures to Craig, “We know all about your stupid little espionage plan to get the stick, you sneaky Jew. Craig knew it was you guys on the phone!”
Stan and Kyle snap their heads to look at a smug Craig, who uses the moment of confusion to break free and jog over to rejoin the group at the doorway.
Butters spouts angrily, “It’s real mean to make fun of someone’s voice, fellas! I hope you get fucked up!”
Cartman lets out another ugly, faux-evil laugh. “You’ll never get the stick, gaywad! Prepare for minor cuts and bruises!”
Kyle watches the four retreat back into the home in a combination of fury and disbelief in himself. Of course Stan’s plan didn’t work. Of course Craig figured it out. Of course now they have to fight a bunch of Cartman’s goons instead of finally making off with the Stick of Truth.
Before the door is pulled shut all the way, Craig sends Kyle one last cocky smirk and a wink. The gesture and the shut of the door makes the boy’s blood boil, and he is rendered even more irritated when he and Stan are forced to engage in battle. In the midst of the easily won kerfuffle, he thinks of how concinginly Craig played them, and how clever he had been in luring the both of them to enemy territory.
Maybe Craig is actually kind of smart. Maybe Kyle is the one that is unbelievably stupid sometimes.
12
It had been a fairly long time since Craig had entered the Broflovski home. Probably years , and even then, it had only been a few times. He recalls one sleepover and multiple instances during their civil war period of playing superheroes that they had joined forces during.
All of the houses in South Park look nauseatingly similar, and Kyle’s house is no exception. The walls of the living room are a gawdy light blue color opposed to his own home’s subdued beige, but the layout is absolutely identical; sofa and television in the center, staircase to the right, doorway to the kitchen to the left. There is even an area rug in the same position beneath the furniture. The only difference he can find in the home since he had last seen it is an updated family portrait; Kyle was again forced to remove his hat for the picture and is grinning in a very annoyed manner, auburn curls in disarray. Craig grins at this, unsure exactly why.
“So, I was thinking we could do something relating to the solar system, since we both like space.” Kyle announces after returning from the kitchen with two cans of Coke.
Craig accepts the cold aluminum container and lifts an eyebrow. “You like space?”
“Hell yeah, dude! I’ve told you this before!” Kyle exclaims as he claims a spot on the couch.
Craig slumps beside him and sinks into the comfortable cushion. He watches Kyle flip open a laptop and replies, “I’ve never heard that information about you.”
“That’s because you only half pay attention when people are speaking to you.” Kyle deadpans as he pulls up a search engine. He taps and manipulates the mouse pad until they are looking at a list of potential solar system related topics.
“This list is for engineering students.” Craig points out after a moment of surfing through the list.
Kyle flips his eyes over to him, expression shiftless. “So?”
Craig lifts an eyebrow. It’s probably the most expressive he’s been to Kyle in a long time. “So, let’s find something easier? This is the 8th grade science fair.”
“Okay?! None of these seem that hard,” the redhead assures him.
Grimacing ahead and feeling already exhausted by Kyle’s unnecessary strive for greatness, he scans his eyes along the project descriptions. He hates to admit that they all do seem to be within their capabilities. He casts his curious gaze back to Kyle and comments, “You have too much faith in us.”
Kyle rolls his eyes, “You may not do your homework, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t smart.”
The revelation is unexpected. The truth is, Craig is smart; he tests high in all subjects of the state proficiency exams and on any regular term quizzes and assessments given. In fact, he would be failing if not for tests, because it was also true that he did not do his homework. He supposes it is not a secret that Craig is gifted , considering he was pointlessly labeled as such although South Park offers no gifted program, but he never expects anyone to acknowledge this. Let alone for the smartest kid in class to. Perhaps Kyle is merely assessing his threats.
After agreeing to some sort of at-home solar energy project that he doesn’t truly understand and will probably end up regretting, Kyle emails the project details to himself and sighs, “I wish we could make a project out of proving that time is an illusion. I’ve watched about a million YouTube videos about that.”
Craig shoots him a quizzical look. “You watch that stuff too?”
“Probably way too much,” Kyle admits as he returns the pleasantly surprised gaze. “I’m starting to think way too much about it and dissociate because I realize I may not even be real.”
Craig snorts. “Of course you’re real. How else would you get on my nerves?”
Kyle rolls his eyes, and for the first time, and for an unknown reason, Craig notices how deep and brown they are. At first glance they appear a basic, muddy shade, but up close he finds traces of amber and honey overlapping one another. They are a stark contrast to Kyle’s sharp features and perpetually creased eyebrows. They’re soft. Inviting . Suddenly his throat is tight and he feels the need to distract himself. “I know what you mean, though. That train of thought has kept me up a few nights. This one Ted-Ed I watched the other day was a huge mindfuck.”
“What was it about?” Kyle wonders, attention shifted to him.
“It basically just talked about the problem with Relativity, how you can move through space in any direction but we can only move forward in time.”
“Dude, that always fuck with my head,” the redhead blows a raspberry. “Pull it up.”
“What, the video?”
“Yeah, let’s watch it!”
Craig pauses momentarily to process the situation. It is the first time ever someone is not only willing, but enthusiastic to watch a video about theories and physics with him. A smile quirks his lips as he remembers to respond, “Yeah, okay. Let me find it.”
He pulls his cell phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls up the YouTube app. The video Craig has already seen leads to a brief discussion, then another video. Then another. Then another. And another until suddenly it has been two hours and Kyle’s mom is home, asking what they are doing. Kyle makes him laugh by struggling to respond without confusing the woman.
“I should probably head home.” Craig announces and promptly stands.
“Okay,” Kyle agrees with a short grunt as he joins him upright. The redhead remains quite energized after the deep dive into complicated theories. “I have a ton of stuff from Tumblr to send you, dude. Like, a ton .”
After gathering his book-bag, Craig sighs, “Sounds good. Wish me luck getting home. I’m worried I’ll stop believing my feet exist and I’ll fall down in the snow.”
Kyle laughs and escorts him to the front door, pulling it ajar for him to pass through the threshold, “Good luck. Although that would be pretty funny.”
“Thanks, buttpipe,” Craig grumbles and steps out into the chilly evening. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you!”
Halfways through the cold trek toward his home, he catches himself smiling like a maniac. Craig says a silent prayer in favor of not developing a huge crush on Kyle Broflovski.
Though he does not wish to confront it, he feels as though he may already have.
15
If his first year of high school wasn’t shitty enough, his first Homecoming was a disaster.
To start off the night, Kyle could not find his tie or tame his hair sufficiently. On top of that, Stan and Kenny were in a weird, stupid fight and made not only Kyle, but both of their dates extremely uncomfortable the entire ride to the school (and he is always inherently uneasy when Kenny gets behind the wheel).
When the group finally arrived at the school and Kyle was set to meet up with his date, Heidi Turner, he found her engaged in a heated argument with Eric Cartman. After twenty minutes of trying to break up the altercation, he gave up and went to search for Stan and Kenny. A fruitless search and then a brief encounter with Kenny’s irritated date, Red, revealed that the pair had left together.
Now Kyle sits in solitude on the bleachers, abandoned by his friends, without a tie and with messy hair, watching Heidi and Cartman slow dance to a really stupid song. The only other fellow students occupying bleachers are the goth kids in their usual attire, smoking cigarettes in the top row; but, they aren’t moping like he is—they’re likely making fun of him. He’s too upset and annoyed to even care.
“Hey, Red.” a voice greets from beside him, pulling him from his self-pity revere.
The use of the nickname referring to his hair color has already revealed the speaker as Craig, but he takes a quick glance anyway to see his friend looking unfairly stylish in a crisp, black button down tucked into tapered, pleated dress pants, paired with low-cut black Converse. His black fringe is styled immaculately and free from the usual confines of a beanie. Kyle offered a half-hearted Hi in response as Craig claimed the spot beside him.
A few moments of silence precede before the dark-haired boy declared. “They would make super ugly babies.”
Somewhat caught off guard (but not too far, considering one of Craig’s favorite hobbies is judging people), Kyle grants him an incredulous glare. “What are you talking about?”
“Your date and the fat tub of lard she’s swaying with,” Craig explains, pointing a finger to the pair. “those kids would be hideous. Or, the kind that are really adorable as babies and kids and get used to everyone complimenting their looks and then grow up to be really ugly and have an identity crisis.”
Kyle can’t fight the smile that played across his lips at the ridiculous notion. He faces forward, scrutinizing the object of discussion. The cheesy slow song had finally come to end and Cartman had unwrapped his thick arms from her slim waist. Kyle’s jaw clenches, “I just hope he gives her HIV.”
Craig snorts loudly, earning another reluctant grin from the other boy. “That’s a big leap from having ugly babies, but alright.”
The redhead lets out a deep sigh through his nose and lets his eyes wander to the high ceiling of the gymnasium. He feels somewhat better with the presence of Craig beside; at the very least he feels like less of a total loser. He huffs miserably, “What the hell is wrong with me, man?”
“How much time do you have?”
Kyle rolls his eyes at the lame response before flicking the back to Craig and his listless gaze. “I’m serious! There’s seriously something wrong with me. It’s like everyone is just fucking tired of me or discovered that I’m not that great. I let myself get burned by Heidi for Eric fucking Cartman twice now, and I don’t even know why.”
Despite the fact that he and Craig had developed a consistent friendship during the transition from middle to high school, he always feels hyper aware when he rants or complains to him. With Stan or Kenny it is second nature, but with Craig it feels more like something may be at stake—more of the feeling that he is exposed.
The response comes in slow, and hardly pertains to Kyle’s primary concern, “Do you even like Heidi?”
“I—“ Kyle begins and cuts himself off with a sigh and an exasperated hand thrown up. “I don’t know, not really— I just… Needed a date.”
His own words ring through his skull as it is the first time he has acknowledged this fact. He asked Heidi because he knew she would say yes. Whether or not it seems completely juvenile, he has still not fully forgiven her for ditching him for Cartman and calling him a dirty Jew when they were younger.
Maybe he just wanted to make Cartman mad or save face.
Maybe he has no idea what he wants.
“That’s your problem, then, Broflovski,” Craig asserts, regaining Kyle’s attention. His hazel stare is cast forward, maintaining that patented stoicism. However, when his eyes find Kyle’s again, the mantra breaks down. Craig continues on, though the words find him with less ease, “I know being constantly up in arms about something is kind of your thing, and I know it’s real, because also I know you , and… I—not everyone has to know you’re a morally upstanding person. Not everyone has to like you and think you’re likable enough to have a date like Heidi. You’re…”
There’s a pause, and in that moment Kyle realizes his heart is palpitating. Suddenly his palms are wet. There’s the ghost of a shy smile gracing Craig’s lips. It’s an expression unlike any the other boy had ever revealed to him. “You're fine, Kyle. You’re really great… You don’t have a thing to prove to anyone.”
The shy smile stretches into a sweet, reassuring one. Kyle feels a sense of panic at the impending end of the interaction, which means the kind expression that is rare to see across Craig Tucker’s face meant for him will disappear. He looks so handsome—and the smile is killing him.
How could he just now be realizing how beautiful Craig’s smile is?
The feeling of a panicky, unsure identity crisis ensues inside Kyle’s mind while he forces himself to conjure a reply, “Thanks… clearly you don’t have anything to prove either, sitting down next to the Debbie-downer of the party.”
Craig chuckles, shrugs, “Maybe my goal is to get everyone to leave me the fuck alone.”
“That isn’t a maybe,” Kyle retorts with a smirk, pleased to earn another sweet smile. He blurts, “Thank you, though… seriously. I think you’re great, too.”
Smiles and eyes linger, and it feels like uncharted territory for the two. Kyle’s chest is working overtime to contain his pounding heart, and his hands have officially begun to sweat . Now not only is Craig’s smile beautiful, so are his eyes, and his hair, and his hands, and his nose, and his legs, and his voice and intellect and his secret compassion and just him .
“The guys and I are leaving pretty soon. Token’s mom is picking us up. Do you want to come?” Craig offers, and more time with him sounds like the greatest gift in the world.
Kyle nods, taking a quick peek out to the dance filled with people he had forgotten in his Craig-induced stupor. “Yeah, Homecoming blows.”
Craig grunts in agreement as the pair raise to their feet. He comments, “At least next year we can use it as an excuse for our parents to buy us a fancy dinner that we drive ourselves to.”
“Yeah,” Kyle snorts, crossing his arms as they trace toward the exit of the gym, “my mom is definitely not gonna let me drive myself. It took a week and a half to convince her it was okay to let Kenny drive me here instead of her. I only won that argument by pulling the eco-friendly card that appeals to her neo-liberal bullshit.”
With a short chuckle, Craig assures him, “I’ll just drive you next year. Hopefully it takes less to convince her of me being responsible than Kenny. It would genuinely hurt my feelings if not.”
“We should just go together next year.” Kyle states, catching himself off guard. The relentless beating of his heart continues, harsher while awaiting the results of his suggestion.
It’s the same smile he received earlier. His knees are jelly. Craig agrees with a simple, “We should.”
Kyle’s heart is sure to burst with the sudden, overwhelming feelings of affection for his friend. Though he did not know it mere moments before, what he wants seems pretty clear now, and pretty undeniably amazing as he laughs and jokes with Kyle and his friends all night.
It was fast and it was hard, but Kyle had definitely fallen for him that night. Maybe it was a long time coming ever since he and Craig began exchanging science TedTalks and discussing fan theories about their favorite nerdy television shows nobody else wants to talk about. Either way, it hit him, and now he can’t think about anyone or anything else.
18
“Well, today was long and stupid.”
Kyle snorts in agreement after taking a sip of Fresca. They have sneaked away to the front of Randy’s wrap-around porch that overlooks his extensive rows of marijuana plants. Stan and Kenny had been planning a huge after-graduation party for their class at Tegridy Farms since September, and made sure everyone (specifically, annoyingly, himself and Kyle) had a good time. Stan has been overly worried about Kyle’s well-being since always , which is usually pretty irritating, but lately it is justifiable.
Kyle received a plethora of grants and scholarships to attend Stanford University. Possibly the only person more proud of Kyle than Craig was his mom, Sheila, who screamed when she saw the acceptance letter (and nearly fainted when she found out Kye had covered almost all of the tuition). For someone interested in law and politics, this was huge— Kyle was ecstatic and very much looking forward to the opportunity. Until Craig’s Engineering Fair project and high ACT scores earned him a full ride to MIT.
Just as well, Kyle was incredibly proud of his boyfriend and impressed with his talent. He tried very hard to hide how distraught the news made him, but after dating him for two years, it was easy to tell. Coming clean about how terribly sad he was that they would spend multiple years on the opposite side of the country was the first time he ever saw Kyle cry.
Every day it grew worse—and now that their commencement ceremony had come and gone, Kyle was barely holding it together. They had numerous long, fruitless conversations about whether or not it would be prudent to stay together. They were both tiptoeing around the subject; Craig more so, considering unlike Kyle, he has yet to master the art of communication and transparency.
Craig takes the moment of silence to admire Kyle’s profile, illuminated poorly by only the dim porch light behind them and the meager crescent moon cast behind grey fog. His auburn curls are falling from the gel he uses to style it, spilling out across his forehead and around his ears. The tip of his long nose is tinted red, and the brown of his eyes is deep and dark. He can’t help but quirk a smile at the exceptionally handsome boy, heart swelling.
He moves to wrap an arm around Kyle’s slim middle, and presses a kiss to his cheek. He earns a weak grin and side glance. He speaks again, “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing,” Kyle sighs, draining another sip of his beverage.
Craig cocks a dark eyebrow and smoothes his hand against the small of Kyle’s back. “That has never once been true.”
“Fuck off.” Kyle chuckles, granting Craig a sense of accomplishment for making him laugh. He trains his stare at something on the ground and lets his shoulders rise and fall a few times before stating, “You know what’s on my mind.”
Craig does. He does not necessarily want to discuss it, but he knows full well that is the only way to soothe Kyle’s nerves. He wets his lips and tries to start on a positive note, “At least we still have all summer together.”
“Not really,” Kyle snaps, finally contorting his torso to face Craig. There’s already a watery glaze deeping the brown of his irises. “I leave July 20th! That’s less than two months!”
“Two months is a long time, Red,” Craig assures with the attempt at a comforting smile.
Kyle is far from comforted. He releases an exasperated sigh and faces forward again, resting his arms against the creaky wooden railing of the porch. “It’s just… I don’t know…”
He hides his face in his hands and huffs again. Craig watches, heart clenching at his visibly distraught state of being. Kyle has never been an easy person to comfort or convince of anything, but usually he finds a way; he takes pride in his ability to soothe the hot head’s nerves. However, this situation is beyond him. He has no idea what to say or do to make it better. That is probably due to the fact that he is also immensely vexed and depressed about the whole thing as well.
Silence pervades over the two for an unknown increment of time. Kyle’s uncharacteristically non-verbal behavior causes a sinking feeling to inhabit Craig’s stomach; he knows this is because Kyle has already made up his mind. He also knows what the consensus is. He merely has no interest in acknowledging the inevitable fall out of the forthcoming conversation.
“We’re both going to be so miserable if we stay together.” Kyle finally says, each word seemingly a struggle to pronounce.
Craig’s heart drops further. He feels almost dizzy and definitely resentful for the fact that he is forced to engage in this topic. He finds himself unable to express any original thoughts, but knows he must respond before Kyle becomes antsy, “I know.”
Craig lets his eyes wander the night sky, wishing its usual ability to soothe him could be applied to this. His brain instantly identifies the few constellations visible through the looming clouds, but nothing can distract him from the fact that what he has with Kyle is not going to last.
A courageous glance back at Kyle reveals his boyfriend already staring. Hopeless eyes swiftly roam Craig’s face, as if begging for more input. The look suddenly reminds Craig of their first kiss. It was one of the few times that Craig had ever witnessed the redhead unsure of himself. After a few months of an undeniable ambiance of w ill they, might they, Craig was invited to the movies with Kyle without the specification of whether or not it was an actual date. They had an incredible time as always, attempting to predict the movie’s conclusion together (also as per usual, Kyle had gotten it wrong and became enraged when Craig had guessed it correctly). When the end of the night came, Kyle granted Craig the same wide-eyed, wandering gaze until he took the hint and pulled him in for an unpracticed but pleasant kiss.
“Craig, are you… crying?” the inquiry comes out in almost a gasp, ridden with guilt.
The dark-haired boy had no idea he was in tears until Kyle pointed it out to him. He sniffs and lifts a hand to catch the moisture accumulated beneath his eyes. An ironic smile twists his lips, “I really don’t want to fucking talk about this.”
Kyle frowns, “Well you can’t just ignore it, babe. We have to talk about it.”
“Yeah, I know, but why does it have to be tonight?” Craig surprises himself by asking, a shaky voice coming through a bit louder than intended. Kyle’s brow furrows, but he continues, “I know that we are going to break up when we move into college, but we do have time so… can you just not talk about how I’m not going to get to be with you anymore? Can we just… fuck, I don’t know, pretend? Just for at least tonight?”
His chest is heaving and more tears are falling, and Kyle’s hands finding his shoulders does little to calm his nerves. “Hey, I’m sorry, It’s okay, Craig, calm down,”
“This is why I told you I didn’t want to talk about it,” he cries softly, turning his gaze down and away. Meeting Kyle’s blazing stare is far too painful. “If I start thinking about losing you, I just… I can’t stand it.”
“I can’t stand it either, Craig!” Kyle exclaims, drawing Craig’s eyes when his own voice cracks beneath the weight of his emotions. “I fucking love you, I don’t want to lose you either!”
“Then why can’t we at least try?” Craig huffs miserably. He raises a hand to cup Kyle’s soft cheek. “I would do anything for you, including only seeing you twice in a year. Just texting you is enough for me. I-I just… I can’t…”
Sobs finally commandeer his ability to speak, and Kyle coaxes him into a comforting embrace. He falls into the slightly shorter boy's arms and cries softly against his shoulder. He doesn’t even recall the last time he has cried, let alone like this. It reaches the depths of his soul and forces his eyes to shut, clinging to Kyle and hoping somehow college and distance and money will never come between them.
Between caressing his back and pressing comforting kisses to the side of his head, Kyle whispers, “We don’t have to talk about it anymore tonight, okay?” Craig nods pathetically, reluctant to give up the comforting position against Kyle when he is nudged upright. Kyle’s weak smile greets him, “Let’s just say we’re both staying in South Park and we’re gonna move into an apartment together and Stan, Kenny, and Clyde will be our neighbors and we’ll have to take care of them all forever.”
Craig narrows his stare at the redhead, but a grin plays across lips, “You think that is what our life looks like in my wildest dreams?”
“Well, tell me yours, then!” Kyle urged with a laugh and an arched eyebrow.
After a loud sniff that makes him cringe at himself, Craig shares, “You use your big genius brain to invent the next billion dollar technological advancement and you sell it so that neither of us have to work ever again.”
Kyle rolls his eyes, “How could I forget about your sugar baby fantasy?”
“Uh, if someone says that getting paid to do absolutely nothing but find a rich man is not their fantasy, they’re either lying or a lesbian.” Craig shrugs.
They share a few more fantasy scenarios and laugh together until both are feeling at least okay enough to rejoin the party. They drink and talk and listen to music with their friends until the early hours of the morning, when they are one of the few to crash inside the farmhouse for the night. Though he effectively did so through the remainder of the party, Craig could not sleep through his inability to expel the lingering fear of losing Kyle.
21
After a whole five minutes of holding his tongue, Kyle asks his white, lace summer dress-clad friend, “Are you seriously going to wear this for your wedding?”
Kenny turns their head to address the inquiry, granting Kyle a sly smirk, “Don’t be jealous, Ky. I may be marrying Stan, but we can still hook up on the side.”
Kyle rolls his eyes and smiles. It is not a complete surprise that Kenny chose to wear a dress, considering their constantly painted nails and occasional employment of other kinds of feminine attire. Though Kyle never really understood his friend’s gender identity, he can’t deny Kenny pulls off absolutely anything they put on.
The true cause of Kyle’s uncertainty of the fine details of the wedding was the wedding itself. Stan and Kenny have been engaged for a month, and Kyle has known about the wedding for two weeks—and he is the best man. The whole event was thrown together very quickly, and while he is incredibly happy for his two closest friends, anything not meticulously structured stresses him out.
On top of this, he is filled with anxiety at the presence of a certain attendee. It has been nearly three years since he has seen his ex-boyfriend, Craig Tucker. Thankfully, he has been preparing for the interaction as long as he has known about the marriage, as Stan graciously warned him that he would be invited.
Karen, Kenny’s sister and maid of honor, is pulling their curly bangs back into short, golden braids secured with bobby pins. She grants Kyle a grin identical to her sibling’s, “I told them to go with a princess gown, but they insisted on something more slimming.”
Kenny shrugs, “Gotta show off my stocky lil figure.”
Kyle chuckles, “Don’t get me wrong, you look great. I just do not have your confidence.”
“Our redneck daddy ain’t here to beat the queer outta me, so, who cares, right? Stan likes the package no matter how it’s decorated.”
Karen snorts at this and averts her attention to her iPhone. She announces, “Bebe wants to know if you want brown or black eyeliner,”
With the discussion of make-up, Kyle takes it as his cue to leave. He earns a wink from Kenny as he slinks out of Stan’s old bedroom and heads down the hall of Stan’s father’s farmhouse. He returns to the kitchen that he left briefly to check on Kenny, where Stan has been pacing back and forth for the entire hour and a half that Kyle had been there.
“How are they?” Stan asks, barely looking up from the notebook paper his vows are handwritten on.
“They’re great!” Kyle assures with a grin. “You okay?”
Stan peers up, “Is there a word that means the happiest I’ve ever been and the most nervous I’ve ever been?”
“Wedding jitters?” Kyle tries, earning a chuckle and a nod of the head. “What’s there to be nervous about, man? You’re at your dad’s place and you only have 30 guests. And you’ve known Kenny for 21 years.”
“ 18,” Stan corrects, crossing his arms over his chest. “We met in preschool, so, there’s holes all in your logic.”
“Fuck off,” the redhead laughs, his friend joining in.
It truly is the happiest he has ever seen Stan. His friend has been a constant source of worry since puberty, when Stan became severely depressed and had a brief stint of substance abuse issues. More than once he found himself essentially nursing Stan back to health, offering a shoulder to cry on, doing homework for him so he did not fail, as well as always looking out for him. He could only do so much, though, and thankfully a combination of Kenny and therapy took him the rest of the way to a relatively healthy way of life.
Stan has been working at a local animal shelter since graduation and entered a management role while Kenny works on cars and goes to school for a nursing degree—and once they are settled in their career, Stan plans to start studying to become an English teacher. They rent a small house in South Park together (and with two dogs, a cat, three lizards, and a possum).
Stan grins and shrugs, “This is just such a big deal to me, y’know? Like, I’m about to be married . And I’m about to read about how much I love Kenny to all my friends and family, it’s just kinda intimidating, dude.”
“No, I get it! This is huge,” Kyle assures, and raises a comforting hand to clasp his shorter friend’s shoulder. “Just try and remember that your friend and family are at least 30% gay and Kenny’s vows are way longer. Like, way longer. So, they’ll definitely take the most attention.”
“Oh, god,” Stan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Kyle chuckles and pats his arm before drawing away. “I’m joking. Everything is going to be awesome. And I’m really happy for you.”
The groom grants him a grin and nods. “Thanks, man. And thanks for coming, I know you’re busy with school.”
Kyle waves his hand. “Dude, I’m not gonna miss my two best friend’s wedding. Plus, I’ve been going to school for almost 6 full semesters, taking one weekend off is definitely deserved.”
“Yeah,” Stan scoffs and traces over to the refrigerator, “I’m sure your study to sleep ratio is abysmal.”
Kyle neither confirms nor denies. If Stan knew the true extent he would be horrified. He watches his friend procure two water bottles and set them on the island counter before them. Stan’s suit looks extremely crisp and fits him well; a velvety black material and a textured, light blue tie granting him a very polished appearance. The short style of his black hair and close shaven beard makes him look significantly older than Kyle remembers.
Stan’s face falls into a tentative expression when he asks, “Are you gonna be cool with seeing Tucker?”
Considering the hitch in his breath the question causes, the true answer is probably no, but Kyle assures him, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s not like I haven’t seen him—I’ve been stalking his Instagram this whole time.”
“Well that’s healthy,” Stan nods. “and boring. He posts, like, one sunset a month.”
“But he reblogs shit on his story about 80 times a day,” Kyle smirks, looks away.
“Well, I know it's our day, but if you want Ken and I to keep him away from you, you know we will.”
The assurance does comfort him, though he adamantly refuses to take any of their energy away from each other. Before the wedding, Kyle listens to Stan run through his vows a few times, offering the slightest grammatical tweaks and becoming extremely aware of the realness of what is happening. Life seems to be going by insanely fast these days.
So many thoughts are running through Kyle’s head today that he does not even think to question who is doing the officiating; so, when he sees Randy Marsh standing beneath the decorative arch dressed in clergy robes before the arrangement of chairs and guests, he is completely and utterly baffled. Stan seems to have sensed Kyle’s confusion and sighs deeply, “This is the only way he would agree to let us get married here for free.”
It becomes somewhat clearer, but the word Why remains on repeat in his mind. As briefly rehearsed when he got off a plane from California earlier that day, Kyle watches Stan trod down the aisle and waits for the musical que to escort Karen. She is now dressed in a flowy, powder blue floor length dress whose color matches the tinted baby’s breath woven into the arch and Stan’s tie. Her curly brown hair is pulled into a stylish bun, and she smiles widely at Kyle when he reaches an arm out for her to take. He grins back and begins trekking slowly between the rows of familiar faces to the sound of some indie song Kenny and Stan love about an aeroplane.
It’s during the walk that he sees him.
Craig is hard to miss. He is 6’3” and the owner of a full head of very dark hair. Not to mention he looks unbelievably hot. His hair has grown out so his fringe dips neatly across his forehead, and a stubbly beard adorns his smooth skin. As per usual, he is effortlessly stylish in a patterned button down and a black blazer.
Stomach tied in knots, Kyle averts his attention back to the task at hand. Suddenly the brisk stroll to his friend seems never ending. Subsequently, the short wait for Kenny to come down also feels like an eternity; when they finally do, however, he is grateful for the distraction.
Kenny cleans up nice. They look radiant in their sundress, styled blond hair, and subtle make-up accentuating the uniquely gorgeous features of their face. Kyle is reminded why he was always slightly jealous of how adorable Kenny is growing up, but more so filled with joy for his best friends. A quick glance at Stan shows that he is already choked up.
“Hey sexy,” Kyle hears Kenny whisper when they reach Stan, which makes him grin widely and roll his eyes.
As Randy begins his unnecessarily long monologue, Kyle makes the mistake of allowing his eyes to roam the crowd full of South Park natives and Stan’s extended family. His eyes are magnetically drawn to Craig. The happy feelings that the nearly-wed couple’s reunion granted him are absolutely demolished when Kyle watches a certain someone craning his head to the side to whisper something in Craig’s ear.
Tweek.
Tweek Tweak is Craig’s first ever boyfriend, and while the circumstances of their relationship’s origin (in which a group of girls pushed them together through yaoi art) was borderline cultish, Kyle spent a good portion of their relationship very jealous of him. It was not even truly about Tweek; it was mostly the negative attention Kyle received from their peers that were heavily invested in Tweek and Craig’s personal lives and could not cope with the thought of them paired up with anyone but each other. He found it incredibly strange and uncomfortable, and consequently resented Tweek for it, though he acknowledged it was not truly the other male’s fault.
The other aspect of Kyle’s envy was just how completely different and virtually perfect Tweek was. He was relatively short and bleach blond, incredibly creative and musically gifted, and very attractive in a quirky, effortless kind of way. Despite his gullibility and belief in insane conspiracy theories, he and Craig got along very well and remained quite close even after they decided to split off. Kyle was a tall, lanky STEM geek and definitely not overly stylish or (in his opinion) good looking. He felt extremely inferior to Tweek.
Old insecurities come flooding back to Kyle like a tidal wave. Are they back together?
It certainly seems like it with the way Craig is laughing quietly and smiling at what Tweek is saying.
Fuck me, Kyle thinks.
He is completely distracted by Tweek and Craig’s interactions, though not much else happens between them after the beginning of the ceremony. The only time he pays attention is when there is a roar of laughter from the spectators, and he glances over to find that Kenny has stolen a kiss from Stan.
Randy huffs, “Not yet, Kenny.”
“Well, I’ll kiss him again later,” Kenny assures with a cheeky smile.
Kyle remains so caught up in thought he almost forgets to turn the rings over to Stan, and does not retain one word of either of their vows. He forces himself to grant his friend his mental presence for the remainder of the wedding.
“With the power vested in me by the state of Colorado’s website, I now pronounce you husband and… partner?”—Kenny and Stan shrug in unison—“You may now kiss the… bride?”
With that, Stan reaches up to cup Kenny’s face in both hands, pulling them in for a passionate kiss on the lips. Kyle claps enthusiastically as a chorus of whooping from their high school friends drowns out all other sounds. He glances back to where Craig has stood up with Tweek at his side. It is then their gazes finally connect, and Craig swiftly peers away when caught. A lump forms in his throat.
The reception directly follows the ceremony, catered by a company with a familiar name. Kyle clenches his jaw when he sees Stan chatting with his least favorite blast from the past, Eric Cartman, who Kyle previously witnessed berating a member of his serving staff. This wedding is just full of unpleasant surprises.
Kyle attempts to comfort himself in how absolutely ecstatic Kenny and Stan both look, gabbing away with family and clinging to one another, kissing and laughing. He is also able to catch up with a host of people he sees rarely, including his own family who Stan had sat in the front row during the ceremony, claiming that Sheila and Gerald raised him just as much as Sharon and Randy. It is a pleasant atmosphere, and Cartman’s burgers are admittedly very good, but he cannot shake the sinking feeling that seeing Craig back with Tweek grants him.
He can’t say it doesn’t make sense . They have always been close, and Tweek is attending the Juilliard School for acting. New York is far closer to Craig than Kyle is. He tortures himself with imagining a passionate reconnection that resulted in their reunion as a couple.
He feels sick.
A couple hours into the reception (and after Kenny forced him to do the “Cupid Shuffle” ), Kyle sneaks away to obtain a much needed moment alone. He makes his way to the front of the farmhouse’s front deck and claims a seat on the old, metal-framed porch swing. Breathing in a series of deep sighs and gazing out into the clear night, he takes sips of a water bottle and sits in solitude, hearing nothing but the muffled music of the party and the chirp of crickets.
“Hey, Red.”
Kyle’s eyes widen at the greeting. His shocked expression follows Craig as he rounds the corner and approaches Kyle’s side, hands in his pockets. His heart begins violently abusing his chest when he earns a charming smile from his ex-boyfriend.
“Hey…” Is all Kyle can manage under the circumstances.
The assault in his ribcage continues as Craig steps closer and nods at the empty slot beside Kyle, “You mind if I sit?”
Kyle wordlessly makes room for the other body, which joins him on the porch swing. He feels instantly warmer; he cannot decide if it is from Craig shielding the slight breeze from him or his cheeks burning.
“So this was… interesting.” Craig begins.
Kyle chuckles nervously and nods. “Sure was.”
“I know why they don’t have alcohol at this thing, but I really wish they did.” Craig comments.
“You’re telling me,” Kyle grumbles, glancing down at the water that he wishes was beer. When he peers back up Craig is already staring. He flashes a nervous grin. “You, uh, look really good.”
Craig smiles back. “Thanks. I should be saying that to you.”
Kyle feels himself flush when the other man’s enticing hazel eyes slowly scan his body. His attire is identical to Stan’s aside from a less extravagant boutonniere. His heart starts to soar but he shoots it down with a quick mental reminder that Craig is unavailable; even if he was, it should still be a no. “Thank you… so, how’s Cambridge?”
“Been raining for a week straight,” Craig sighs, shrugs. “I’m sure that’s not the case for Cali.”
Kyle shakes his head, “Definitely not. It’s pretty nice. Though sometimes I miss snow, and I’m pretty sure that makes me insane. Apparently I did not reach my threshold after 18 years of being surrounded by it.”
Craig snorts, “You’re not insane, it’s just the Stockholm Syndrome running its course.”
The redhead laughs and shrugs. He takes a pause to sip his water and stare ahead. Conversation with Craig has always come easy, and his heart is pounding expectantly, as if ready to receive a kiss. He decides to bring himself back down harder, “So, how long have you and Tweek been back together?”
“What?” Craig asks, gaze instantly narrowing toward Kyle.
Kyle shrinks slightly under the scrutiny, “Aren’t you two dating?” The look of bemusement transforms into humor. Craig lets out a loud, goofy laugh that earns him a scowl. “What?”
“Come on, Broflovski. That ship has been sunk since middle school. I do not plan on excavating it.” Craig assures, stifling another onslaught of laughs. “Besides—you know I have a thing for redheads.”
Kyle still feels as though he is spiraling, even though it is a more pleasant version. Definitely blushing now, he clears his throat, “Sorry, you just seemed cozy.”
“He didn’t seem cozy with his actual boyfriend that never takes his hands off of him?”
“What do you mean?” Kyle wonders aloud.
Craig perks his head to the side, “Clyde and Tweek are dating.”
Kyle paused, unblinking for a moment, “What?!”
With a chuckle, Craig nods. “That was my reaction too.”
“Wait so… Clyde’s gay now?”
“Well, he’s always been bi,” Craig corrects. “He came out last year and did so by telling me he is with Tweek, practically in tears about breaking the bro code. ”
“Jesus, I can’t believe they’ve been together a year and I didn’t know…” He sighs, peering off and away again. “I feel like I don’t even know anyone anymore.”
The dark-haired man frowns and casts his gaze away as well. He offers a small token of comfort, “I feel like I still know you pretty well.”
A pause falls into their exchange when they watch a few guests trace out from the backyard to their cars. Neither have noticed the dwindling energy of the party, but can now clearly detect the music dying down. Kyle lets out a sigh through his nose and watches a few family more members of Stan’s follow suite.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
Craig grins, shrugs. “I can just tell you haven’t really changed. You might be older and exhausted, but you’re still Kyle ,” he explains. “I liked your speech. Funny, smart, sweet.”
Kyle can’t help but grin—and feel like Craig is calling him those things, not just his speech. He finally allows his eyes to wander to hazel, relishing in the color as they dissect his soul. His voice is unwittingly low when he asks, “What else hasn’t changed?”
Staring back with equal intent, Craig assures, “For you?”
“For you. ”
“A lot hasn’t changed for me...” he promises.
The conversation stalls again with the presence of spectators passing by them. Craig eyes vehicles pulling out and driving off as he continues, “I still miss you every day.”
Kyle’s heart officially threatens to burst at this juncture. He recalls how difficult it is for Craig to verbally communicate his feelings, so he must feel very strongly about the sentiment. Kyle draws in a shaky sigh and returns, “I miss you, too,” he takes a brief pause to wet his lips, “and you know, sometimes I really wish we had some horrible breakup where you cheated on me and I slept with your best friend to get back at you and we just hate each other so much our parents hate each other… that way it doesn’t hurt so much whenever I realize you’re not mine anymore. Or it makes it easier to try and date other people and realize they’ll never be you.”
He really didn’t mean to unleash all of this onto the poor guy at his friends’ wedding day and on right before they are to head to their opposite ends of the country, but he felt that holding it in would be too much on his heart. He turns his head away to escape from Craig’s intense scrutiny, but is swiftly met with a force that draws him back; Craig’s fingers gingerly cup his chin and angle his face toward his own. They allow their eyes to swim with one another’s, allowing the intensity of the moment to sink in before Craig takes the leap and leans forward. He connects their lips gently, but all the passion that Kyle has been missing in his life feels extremely present.
Kyle raises a hand to rest on Craig’s cheek as they kiss slowly. He wants to cry at how amazing it is to taste the lips that he has been so long deprived of. He wants to travel back in time and punch himself in the face for forcing him to live without this.
But a fleeting fear that Kyle from the past was right plants a seed of doubt in his mind. He draws back and directs his wide stare at Craig, who soon opened his eyes to determine why the contact was lost. “I—We shouldn’t do this.”
“Why not?” Craig asks, running this thumb gently across Kyle’s jawline.
Kyle huffs tragically, “Craig, you know why. We can’t be together.”
“Why not?” He repeats in an identical tone.
“Because! You live in Massachusetts and I live in California! Long distance isn’t feasible, it’s hard, it’s—“
“Kyle, I thought the hardest thing I have ever had to do was walk away from you. But it gets harder every single day not being able to talk to you or hear from you or know you. That is what is hard—not long distance. I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I want to be with you.” Craig interjects, sincerity and desperation evident in his eyes.
Kyle’s features soften and he sputters a moment before settling on, “It—It just can’t be that easy.”
“Why not?” Craig says one more time, the smallest smile curling his lips.
“I…” Kyle begins, but the words are lost in Craig’s stare and in the moment where he has felt the most in years. It was like waking up after a particularly long sleep. He considers how amazing and easy it felt to be in Craig’s presence after years of not hearing from him and he smiles. Instead of continuing to argue like he usually does, he drops his guard and throws himself back into Craig’s embrace, crashing their lips together yet again.
Craig smiles against his mouth and snakes his arms around Kyle’s middle, coaxing him closer for easier exploration. It’s indescribable; it feels like the very first time, and he cannot even fathom what he would do without it again.
But he figures he will no longer have to worry about that.
24
Craig hates travelling via airplane. It kind of freaks him out—and he is a generally relaxed person, so that is saying something. For this reason and several more, he is immensely thankful to have landed in Denver International Airport after the 4 hour flight.
He has finally graduated with a Bachelor's degree in Engineering. He opted out of attending the subsequent graduation ceremony and instead will have his diploma delivered soon. While it will be a useful asset in obtaining a job, his original life plan requires a Master’s degree—and he no longer feels as though he wants to pursue it.
In fact, he has become very interested in visual arts and filmmaking. He was introduced to the scene through a club in college and fell in love with the practice. He is considering instead of aerospace engineering, learning more about the ins and outs of creating movies.
And he has no idea how he is going to break the news to his boyfriend.
He tries to put these thoughts out of his mind and focus on the joyous occasion that is about to take place—being reunited with Kyle. Craig smiles at the mere thought as he trudges through the airport with his luggage toward where Kyle was set to pick him up, following the directions of multiple texts he has sent. Immense joy and relief fill him when he sees a familiar shock of curly, red hair on display when he arrives at the specified location in the airport. He picks up the pace to reach Kyle.
And Clyde.
“Craig!” His brunette friend exclaims, sprinting toward him and instantly capturing him in a bone-crushing hug. “I’ve missed you so much, bro.”
“It’s only been two months since you visited.” Craig grunts, stuck in place with his bags and Clyde clinging to his grasp.
Despite the impromptu second presence, his heart feels completely full when locking eyes with Kyle, who looks amazing in tan chinos and a button-down-shirt-sweater combination. Kyle grants him a wide, loving smile, waiting patiently for his turn to embrace him.
Clyde pulls back and clasps his hand on Craig’s shoulder, sighing contently, “Too long, bro, too long.”
Craig grins despite himself and steps over to Kyle with outstretched arms. They squeeze one another desperately, Craig’s finger’s embedding in his is soft ringlets as he breathes in his scent. Despite roaming Denver’s airport for a half hour already, he finally feels at home.
“So, what’s the move, gentlemen?” Clyde asks after the two separate. Craig ignores him and presses a long kiss to Kyle’s lips. The brunette smirks at the couple, “Oh, I get it, my bad. Lovers gotta love. I’ll wait!”
Craig groans against Kyle’s lips and pulls away. “To be continued.” Clyde coos loudly at them, having heard the sentiment. This earns him a middle finger from Craig before he grabs his rolling suitcase, and Kyle lifts his duffel bag. When Clyde is distracted raving about their decent parking spot, he whispers to his boyfriend, “What the hell is he doing here?”
Kyle throws him a defensive look, punctuated by a scoff. “He just wanted to come and see you!” The way Craig narrows his eyes, he knows this answer will not suffice. He huffs, “He invited himself, okay? What was I supposed to do?”
“Tell him no, fuck off,”
“Shut up, Craig. The reason you two have been friends your entire lives is because you know how hard it is to look him in his happy, little face and tell him no.”
Craig concedes, “That is at least 45% of it.”
“Yo, there’s this new taco truck that popped up in the rich part of town, and it is to die for, dude. We should go there for lunch!” Clyde suggests as they shove Craig’s belongings in the trunk of Kyle’s car.
Craig sends his friend an exasperated look. “Have you ever suggested anything non-Mexican?”
“Why would I? Mexican is delicious. Just be glad it isn’t Chipotle, you know what that place does to your stomach, dude.”
With that Clyde slips into the backseat and Craig shoots Kyle a death glare. “I’m going to kill him.”
“You missed him.” Kyle corrects, pecking his lips before tracing toward the driver's seat.
The ride back into town is surprisingly pleasant, and consists of minimal instances of Clyde getting on Craig’s last nerve. Though he would never admit it after Kyle made a fuss, he does miss Clyde, and he misses those rare instances in which he gets to spend time with just Kyle and him. Being surrounded by the two people who love you most (arguably more than your own family) is the best thing to come home to.
Somehow lunch turned into an entire day out with Clyde, who ended up dragging them to a few new stores that opened in South Park while they were away. He had stayed local, attending a community college before transferring to a nearby university to finish his education degree. It was a really smart plan that saved him a lot of money; he also asked Craig to help him prepare for his interview as a gym teacher at South Park Elementary next week.
Much to his chagrin, the topic of his masters degree was brought up multiple times by Clyde and Kyle. Each time it was mentioned, his stomach filled with dread. He somehow feels guilty and defensive simultaneously, though they do not even know of his decision to discontinue his education.
After an uncomfortably long good-bye hug and the forced promise that he would come visit Tweek when he is off work tomorrow, Clyde disappears into his and his boyfriend’s shared apartment. Kyle sends a knowing grin his way, which prompts an eye roll as they drive off.
“It’s weird how different this place is,” Craig says, placing a hand on Kyle’s thigh as he reclines in the passenger’s seat. “But it still feels the same.”
“I know what you mean. It’s like instead of actually cleaning the toilet, they just poured bleach over it to hide the smell.” Kyle snickers, removing a hand from the steering wheel to place over Craig’s.
Comfort from Kyle’s touch swells his heart. He asks while admiring the other man’s handsome profile as he cruises down the familiar streets of their hometown. “Have you seen any apartment listings?”
“Not yet, I was trying to find some places closer to DU, but I’m just not as familiar with that area. We’ll have to drive up there soon to check it out.” He answers.
The mention of the University of Denver causes that feeling of dread to course through him again. Now would probably be a good time to talk to Kyle about the decision that has been plaguing him all day, but he cannot bring himself to destroy their happy bubble. He gets to spend the rest of the evening with Kyle one-on-one before returning home to his family, and he wants to actually enjoy it. Though they have been back together for two years, they have had very limited time together in person due to their schooling situations. They made it work, and were much happier for it, but even Craig can sense an undeniable sense of unfamiliarity. He needs time to relearn how to navigate their interactions.
Time gets away from him, though.
As if all of a sudden, it is two weeks later and Kyle is all dressed and ready to go tour a few apartments up near the University of Denver - where he is still under the impression he and Craig both will be attending a masters program to complete their schooling.
He feels somewhat insane for being unable to talk to Kyle about this, but it’s just hard . He fears the fallout of the conversation, the disappointment he is sure it will cause, and the inevitable explanation he will have to give for why he is essentially quitting more than half of the way there on his path to becoming an astrophysicist. The stakes seem too high to simply tell people he changed his mind.
“Have you set up your orientation with DU? It seems gratuitous considering we’re 24-fucking-years old and have been in college for four years, but, whatever,” Kyle asks as he wanders back into the livingroom of the Broflovski residence where he has been staying. According to him, it has been a hellacious nightmare akin to Dante’s Inferno, but his boyfriend always has had a flair for the dramatic.
In reality, Shelia Broflovski is overcome with joy that both of her sons have returned from college (Ike from his first year as a freshmen) and has been incredibly clingy. Gerald Broflovski has been all but absent, aside from inexplicably asking Kyle for spare change before disappearing again.
“I haven’t set it up.” Craig replies tactfully. His heart is racing at the topic again.
He definitely should have been told him by now. He knows that, but the longer he waits, the more daunting it seems. And everyone is weirdly obsessed with it, always asking about his schooling and if he’s excited to go back to school for another 2 years after 16 years straight.
“Oh, well, I can set it up for you if you want. I think we could get the same one, I chose a later session just in case move in takes a while - “
“No, don’t, it’s… I’ll do it myself.” Craig interjects, inadvertently emphatic.
Kyle’s furrows his brow, giving him that look that makes him feel picked apart. He asks, “Do you want me to show you how on the website?”
“It’s cool, I’ll log on later.” Craig promises, forcing a smile as he stands up. “Are you ready to head out?”
“Craig, what’s going on?” Kyle demands, crossing his arms over his chest.
A lump starts in his throat. He attempts to keep his behavior nonchalant, pulling the car keys from his jacket pocket as he returns, “What do you mean?”
“You don’t sign up for orientation on the website. They send you a confirmation email with a link after you get your acceptance letter.”
Craig’s first instinct is to run. Literally, physically run away. This makes him feel pretty ridiculous, so he is forced to acknowledge that it is time to make Kyle privy of his secret. He swallows the lump and meets Kyle’s sharp, pretty brown stare. “I… didn’t apply.”
Kyle’s eyebrows crease even further, and his head reels forward in disbelief, “What?! Dude, you’ve definitely missed the deadline! Why the hell haven’t you applied yet?”
The tone of his voice sets off those screaming alarms in his head. This is exactly why he did not want to tell Kyle. He feels like a monumental disappointment, but he goes on the defense for himself rather than be dragged down, “Because I don’t want to do a masters program! I don’t want to do anymore school, ever again. I’m tired of thinking and papers and deadlines. I don’t even know if I want to do astrophysics anymore, it’s just… I don’t know, there’s something else I kind of really want to pursue, and I don’t know where I would even start and I feel like I made a huge mistake going all four years for something I don’t even really want anymore and I just… Fuck, I don’t know, I just don’t want to do it.”
“Hey, settle down,” Kyle says in a softer voice than before. He crosses the space between them and cups Craig’s shoulders firmly as the taller man breathes heavily and hangs his head. He only meets Kyle’s stare when a warm hand on his cheek coaxes him to. “It’s okay.”
It’s not at all what he was expecting to hear. His predictions of the exchange all consisted of varying degrees of being berated, and not a single one included Kyle uttering the phrase it’s okay. He almost did not trust it. “It is?”
“Yeah,” Kyle assures with a soft smile. “I’m sorry I set you off, I just thought you were procrastinating. But if you don’t want to do your masters program that’s… really up to you. The only thing I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me sooner.”
After days of being positive that sitting on the information was the best course of action, he was swiftly convinced otherwise by Kyle’s tame, compassionate reaction. It feels almost like an identity crisis. “You’re not mad?”
“Of course I’m not mad! Is that why you didn’t tell me? You thought I’d be mad?” When Craig nods slowly in confirmation, Kyle frowns. “You really kept this from me all this time because you thought I’d be mad? I… I’m sorry you think I’m so… strict.”
Craig sighs, “It’s not that, babe, I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t want to disappoint you and ruin how great it’s been being back together… plus, without my masters, I just feel like the last four years of us not being together or barely being together is just for fucking nothing.”
Kyle shakes his head, “That’s not true! There’s plenty you can do! And now that we are together, we can figure it out. But…you have to communicate with me about this stuff.”
Communication—never his strong suit. It is probably his fatal flaw. But if Kyle can withhold his usual tendencies to become easily angered or judgemental, he can definitely learn to tell him things two weeks earlier than necessary. He sighs, “I know, I’m sorry. I guess it’s just kind of different now… I’m not sure how to do this again yet. Us, ”
Kyle frowns, but continues dragging his thumb gently along Craig’s jawline. “I know what you mean. It’s not… a perfect situation, and we’ve never had a perfect relationship. But clearly we’re worth it to each other, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Craig nods slowly, a semblance of a smile curving his lips as Kyle continues, “See, I learned something while we were apart. You can plan and logic and perfect things until you're blue in the face, but sometimes it just isn’t what’s most important. What seems easiest isn’t always what’s best. You need to have the uncomfortable, hard, irrational talks, and feel the difficult things. Being with you isn’t always easy and pretty, but it’s all I want.”
His smile widens, and his heart swells with adoration and relief. “God, I missed your gay little speeches.”
“I take it back, I hate you.” Kyle retorts with a grin as Craig wraps his arms around him and pulls him close.
They kiss passionately, holding one another close. Craig feels as though balance has been restored; like he’s finally, truly reunited with Kyle, and is hopeful that things will be even better than before.
“Would you guys believe me if I said this isn’t even the gayest thing I’ve seen you do?”
The pair jump apart, averting their attention to Ike, who is standing behind the couch, snacking on a bowl of pretzels.
“Ike, I swear to god, I’m going to kill you.” Kyle seethes.
His brother chuckles, “Message received. Enjoy the privacy of our living room, lovebirds.”
As he ascends up the stairs again, Craig calls out, “What is the gayest thing you’ve seen us do?”
From the top of the stairs, Ike answers, “Kyle’s door wasn’t always locked in high school.”
The couple exchanges wide-eyed looks when Ike’s slams shut. The redhead groans, “I cannot fucking wait to move out.”
27
“No, I said lotus flowers; they are for the centerpieces, they are going to be floating in classy, little fish bowl looking things. For Christ— lotus flowers! L-O-T-U-S! Don’t you dare give me lilies for my table decor.”
Kyle cannot decide whether he is more amused or frightened by Craig’s assertive tone directed at their wedding planner over the phone. Apparently she wasn’t a very good one, because Craig had essentially taken over at every step of the way. Craig has always been pretty flamboyant and particular about his style and the design of things, so it isn’t shocking, it’s just strange to see him… energetic.
“Jesus, dude,” he grunts after ending the call. He slumped down beside Kyle on the kitchen table, going back to shuffling through a flower catalogue. Each time he got going again, he was nervous he would have to endure another long conversation about what kind of arrangements he envisioned, in which he had to gently tip-toe around the fact that he could not possibly care less. “How hard is it to read my texts about what flowers I want? She had to call me to make sure I knew what I was talking about. Just because I’m a dude doesn’t mean I don’t know the difference between two completely different fucking plants.”
Kyle chuckles lightly and stretches an arm across the table and takes his fiance’s hand. Craig let out a breath and squeezed Kyle’s fingers, returning the soft grin he receives as he is told, “You seem stressed, babe. Why don’t we take a little break and go get some coffee?”
Not before a brief consideration that involved scanning his eyes along the pile of wedding-related materials accumulated on their table, Craig nods and stands back up. “Might be a good idea.”
“I mean, I know nothing can fix how grumpy you are, but I can at least try, right?” Kyle jests as he joins him upright, both heading toward their bedroom for shoes.
Craig snorts, “Yeah, sure. Just remember that this is coming from the one who’s friends have had a running joke about him going through menopause since the third grade because he’s so easily aggravated.”
Kyle whirls around to glare daggers at him, “Which is my least favorite joke, as you know.”
Craig laughs softly despite the evil look and continues tracing into their bedroom. When ready for departure, they set off to Kyle’s car and headed toward their favorite coffee shop; Starbucks. Not because they did not have a stint of adventurously going around Denver and trying all the mom-and-pop, artsy, locally owned coffee shops for the perfect brew to return to (because they had done that), but because they were honest with themselves and each other that it was just the best.
It was a good thing that they did accept their basic-ness and became frequenters of their closest Starbucks location, because the drive through made the trip significantly faster for the busy couple. Not a single day went by that they were not doing something related to school, work, each other, or friends, especially now with the impending wedding.
Kyle landed himself a paid internship at a local law firm, which is only a part time gig for him while he works on Alexandria Ocascio-Cortez’s presidential campaign. He began working with the Denver chapter of her foundation during his master’s program, and decided to continue until the election. He found himself enthralled with the fast-paced, high stakes world of politics, where he is able to raise his voice, assert his passion, and do something that he feels matters. Meanwhile, he is still rooting himself in a stable career as a lawyer if he was unable to truly get his foot in the door to campaign management.
Craig also maintains a full schedule, between his bullshit job designing software for a local car part manufacturer and producing short films and music videos. One of his films is being featured at an indie film festival in Boulder soon, and he was incredibly proud to be selected. The movie starred their good friend and excellent actor, Tweek, and his surprisingly decent boyfriend, Clyde, and follows the couple going through an argument. The goal was to highlight the normalcy of healthy homosexual relationships and it did extremely well on Craig’s YouTube channel.
After receiving their beverages and lemon bread to split, Kyle drove them out to a nearby state park they frequent, with exquisite hiking trails that lead into the mountains. At the base is a quiet, preserved plot of land with a clear, blue pond and a small playground for young children. They drink their coffees in relative quiet with rolled-down windows to enjoy the cool breeze and fresh air. The sun is impeded by fluff, white clouds, dimming down the blinding quality of its light to make for a pleasantly blue sky and calming atmosphere.
“I can’t believe how amazing it feels right now,” Kyle sighs happily, “I hope this false spring continues for four more weeks. This is the energy I need for our wedding day.”
Craig hums in agreement, “Hopefully by March 21st it will be real spring.”
Kyle mutters a sarcastic “ Right,” before plopping a piece of bread in his mouth.
Craig turns his head to send the other man a grin. “Yeah, knowing our luck it’ll be snowing again.”
“Or storming, ”
“Or both.”
“Or a there’ll be a tornado somehow.”
“Or Cartman will object and finally profess his undying love for you.”
“Or Clyde with for you.”
“Or Stan will for you.”
“Or I’ll murder you before we even get to the alter.”
“I’d like to see you try, Broflovski,” Craig challenges with a smirk, “considering you’re a buck-twenty soaking wet.”
“Oh please, like you’re the pinnacle of health with your diet of Cool Ranch Doritos and whatever I make for dinner.” Kyle shoots back with an eye roll.
Craig scoffs, “Fuck off, I’m eating a fruit right now.”
Kyle barks a laugh, “It’s bread! ”
“It’s lemon bread.”
“It’s a pastry, and it’s probably, like, 300 calories.”
“Whatever, it’s fucking delicious,” Craig surrenders by chewing down on a piece of the iced loaf. “And whatever diet makes most of your weight go to your ass, keep on it, because it is also delicious.”
“I hate you so much.”
“No, you don’t. And you love being praised. Especially your ass,” Craig argues with a wink.
Kyle flushes and rolls his eyes, casting his faze ahead. They drink their coffee and chat and bicker, watching people pass through the park as the minutes blend into hours. Eventually they leave their car to stretch their legs, joining the bustle of bodies getting their exercise for the day. Somehow they find themselves hiking their favorite path until the color drains from the sky.
“Shit, dude, what time is it?” Kyle asks, noticing the darkening of their surroundings.
Craig checks his phone as the redhead catches his breath and puffs out a breath, “Damn, almost 7.”
“Holy shit! I didn’t realize it’s been that long, I need to get home and eat.” Kyle exclaims, granting his fiancé a sheepish smile when acknowledging the hike was his idea, “Sorry I kept us out so late!”
“It’s fine, babe, I love spending time with you,” Craig assures with a grin, wrapping an arm around Kyle’s shoulders and reeling him in for a soft kiss on the lips. When they withdraw they keep one another’s gaze, hearts swelling with adoration for each other. Craig taps a finger against the tip of Kyle’s nose, causing him to scrunch his features adorably as he adds, “Time is fake anyways.”
They remain and one another’s arms and decide to stick around the hillside to watch the sun finish its descent behind the horizon. With the sentiment in mind, Kyle briefly reflects on all the years that Craig Tucker has been a part of his life— through kindergarten, puberty, and graduations, and through happiness, heartbreak, and milestones. Even though time is fake, he is immensely glad to live the illusion with Craig by his side.