Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Craig Tucker needed a break. His head was throbbing, skull breaking apart due to the pressure of such an unbelievably exhausting session he was absolutely unnecessarily forced to attend. As he got off the bus earlier to successfully evade a hysterically screaming baby in a rather small green stroller, he hopped on his old used up black-blue skateboard with a Pokemon logo on the back side. Craig took a long ride through the streets. His extremities ached and chest began to constrict with every other house he passed. To a longed for happiness, he had not come across, didn't add up the fact that it was raining the cats and dogs outside.

Yet he was too exhausted to even keep attention, Craig needed peace and loneliness at least for a bit. It was Saturday after all. A day supposed for resting, not lessons and stupid opened up questions still flying unanswered on top of the ceiling in Mr. Mackey's office. They gossiped and repulsively slandered about the boy, still loyally awaiting Craig to ignore them again next weekend. Those ridiculous pains in the ass kept on hanging behind Craig’s exhausted legs like a hundred ton iron ball chained to them.

He felt like a goddamn prisoner and honestly, fuck it. He thought he was a bloody prisoner.

He didn't exactly know what he was so apprehensive of but life itself wouldn't be completely off of the list honestly. Of course, Craig had a loving family (even though he felt embarrassed whenever he thought about them), a solid roof under his head, friends with whom he never truly is certain, if they hang out with him just because they attend the same school, nevertheless he liked them.

Craig’s most precious friend was and always had been his Guinea pig. On Christmas, the year Craig turned 4 years old, his mother got pregnant with Patricia. Craig remembers being extremely negative about the whole situation. If he was ever certain of something, it was the fact that he wanted to be alone sometimes, however also to have attention whenever he wanted and not just at the times his parents had had time for him. Therefore Thomas Tucker decided that Craig needed a fluffy friend to talk to whenever he felt like he needed it. Craig wanted a dog. Nevertheless he still loves Stripe, in spite of her being the fourth he had ever owned. Stripe 1,2 and freshly 3 are all buried in their garden. 

Anyway Craig's inner-self was… how to put it…well… drained. And that's another reason why he felt so strongly offended by his own self. This fatigue was wrong. He had everything a human needs, some had nothing and they still manage. That must mean just one thing. He is just weak. Weak and disgusting. He'd even bet that if he disappeared for a few months, nobody would notice and even presumably become happier... Craig doesn’t remember the times he would care though. Genuinely these days he began believing that those times he felt...  were never there.

His mind got suddenly so bloated and odd that nothing made sense and Craig hated that. It was one of the few things he was frankly aware of. And not to mention that the quantum of those certain beliefs was extremely low, there existed so few of those things that he could count them simply on fingers. Craig was aware of his unhealthy annoyance towards the world, towards the people around him which seemed to have never been thought to shut up by their parents, towards the people who only ever cared about themselves, claiming that they are not selfish at all, towards the shabbiness of being accused and judged by them, even though they never even gave a bit of an effort to meet you at all. Towards his dumb friends and family who just can’t understand, towards his ludicrous counselor who keeps asking questions to which Craig either doesn’t know the answer or would never tell him anyway and finally towards him own self, for being exactly the kid possessing every trait the enumeration above showed. 

Because Craig hated himself.

The first time he clearly admitted it was when he said it out loud in front of a long mirror hanging above his mother’s wardrobe. He said it to his own reflection which he couldn’t believe was his true image. The person standing stiff in front of the mirror was not Craig. At least that’s how it had always felt. Since then the thorny burden of those emotions kept flying in a grey cloud around his tired head. Firstly he wanted to ignore those thoughts and hell he did well, until… 

“Hey, asshole! Watch out!” some grumpy man yelled from an opened car-window. Craig didn’t bother to answer or to react. Conversely he proceeded to skate in the middle of the streets, making the drivers go crazy. He enjoyed making chaos occasionally. Especially after his appointments, they pissed him off. Otherwise he enjoyed life being boring, that’s the way he liked it. Because when you have nothing to react to, you can’t feel disappointed or miserable. 

The door-lock clinked.

“Mum! Brother’s at home!” Craig’s brows furrowed the second he heard his sister scream in the living room. When he passed by the TV and his sister was sprawling on the sofa, making faces at him, he made sure that his eye-roll was as irresistibly striking as possible. As Craig tossed his soaking wet body on her, she began screaming, swearing and kicking. He laughed. It was the kind of bonding no other than a sibling would understand.

A soft, yet rigorous female voice scolded them loudly, coming from the kitchen: "Stop bullying each other, kids! Or else I'll give the whole cake to your father!" Craig groaned in response: "I don't care for a stupid cake, just give me some damn space! Also what the fuck are you watching? Paw Patrols, oh please!" Craig teased Tricia as he forcefully stole a remote control from her strong squeeze, showing effortlessly a middle-finger to her face. "MUM! CRAIG'S HITTING ME AND HE'S RUDE AGAIN! OUCH! IT HURTS! IT HUUUUURTS!!!" Tricia yelled as much as she managed.

"Please, Craig, let her be for at least till I can eat your cake because you both behave terribly. Think of your old parents sometimes, Craig. We're not as young as we used to be," Craig stiffened as he heard dad's rough provocative comment. Thomas Tucker was irritated, Craig better should not anger him more. "Okay," Craig said and gave Tricia the control back. She smirked maliciously as she kicked him slightly to his back while he was getting up. Craig made a face of a slapped arse in return. He approached lazily to the kitchen where both his parents camped. Father was reading some newspapers wearing a thoughtful look on his face. On the other hand his mother was quick on her feet and vigorously danced around while preparing something delicious to eat. 

Craig loved his parents. However, his mother... He admired her endlessly. The Noirette adored Laura Tucker for her never-ceasing self-confidence and energy. She was always on her feet, occupying herself with numerous activities and tasks and she never complained. No, she loved it. And that's what Craig's been missing since day one. Passion.

"Honey, how was your session today?" Laura asked, not turning away from the cooker. "Okay," Craig lied. "Damn it boy, get changed before you drip here a whole lake," Thomas reprehended his son and gave him that look. Craig would never show it on the outside but whenever he saw his father get at least a bit disappointed, his chest began throbbing and beating fast enough to hurt. "Okay." Is what Thomas got in return. "Boy, can you even say anything else than an okay?" Thomas looked up to glare at Craig. Craig stared back, refusing to react otherwise. Thomas only sighed loudly and returned back to the world of news.

Craig had lots of work to do but instead he changed into pajamas and jumped at his bed. Lately he kept feeling exhausted all the time and worse, never satisfied. He felt guilty for being that way too… especially today. Craig hated being lonely but loved being alone. After his former "venting" friend Thomas left for a different country, he didn't even have more people to vent to. 

Of course, he had Clyde. Clyde Donovan lived literally next door. They'd known each other since maybe birth and to be honest, to Craig Clyde Donovan was nothing less than a brother. They shared everything together. From bikes, clothes or books to thoughts, emotions, dreams and worries. Still Craig desired more. Clyde's been busy, being an extroverted dork attending parties and any activities he got invited to. (A lot) He's always been the talkative one and even though Craig and Clyde shared a friend group formed since elementary school, Clyde had infinitely more dudes to hang out with. Not that Craig would be jealous. He was happy for Clyde but he missed him. He missed his other friends too. Since high school Tolkien's joined the literature and baseball clubs and when he wasn't spending time there he hung out with Nichole. Jimmy had enough of his own troubles and just whatever dude. Craig… somehow didn't feel like he belonged in their group anymore. He didn't feel like he fitted in anywhere really and that drove him crazy.

That's why he opened his laptop and searched for his comfort show: "Red Racer".

"But Roman, Issac's just left to the engine, it's been beeping dangerously since the Minions attacked." Craig recited the script before Dianne Red-Gregory said the line herself. "Dianne! Issac is the traitor! He tried to kill Vanessa in the vaults just a few minutes ago! Hurry!" Craig's monotonous voice sounded ridiculous in a combination of the dramatization in his favorite show. "Get your mischievous but up here and tell me what in the hell has a Japanese government in common with all this junk, Issac. Or may I call you …traitor?!" Somehow not even Red racer relaxed him either. 

Mr. Mackey was wrong. Craig was not doing better. He just remained silent. Lame and boring, just the way Craig liked it. Craig thought there was no real reason to change his personality just because he didn't like people or enjoy their company. People around him do ignore him a lot but that's the way Craig wants it, he doesn't crave attention. He craves loneliness and peace. But apparently, that was a problem. So after he failed three of his subjects last semester and claimed he didn't mind or care at all, not only his psychological help-rejecting parents began searching up medical help in their vicinity but also the school counselor made Craig attend these stupid appointments. They said Craig became apathetic and that is frankly not normal for a boy his age but honestly why do they care anyway? It's not like their life would be somehow connected with his brain, why won't they just leave him be. He does not affect their mind-sets by just existing quietly, doesn't he?

"Fuck this," Craig sighed as he closed the laptop. Not even Red racer or Reddit have the ability to cheer him up today. It's just one of those bad days. Craig lays down on his bed in a position people put dead bodies in a coffin. Watching a ceiling or walls for hours is a hobby too after all… Maybe. It gives you enough time to think and when you think you become miserable. Being miserable was good, it made you feel alive because feelings are never really kind. The good ones only pretending to be so and when you're not looking, they stab you in your back. Passion and pleasure… they never last.

One moment you feel ecstatic and in seconds desperate. Hurt. Not that Craig has ever experienced that...

He wouldn't allow it.

Chapter Text

Sunday. Nothing was more of a pain in the ass than a good ol’ Sunday. Craig owned a specific theory that Sunday is just a sadistic evil terrorist, reminding people of the true pain such as the beginning of the week the following day. Sunday was simply much more vicious than Monday. Think about it, Sunday just gives you some fake free-time but insidiously infinitely whispers to your ear: "You can't rest, you've got so much to do." or conversely: "You can't rest, you have to socialize, when you're free." and the worst of them all: "You can rest, you've got nothing to do this time."

Craig sighed while opening his math notebook, revealing functions and derivations. When Craig knew he had work, he became suddenly happier. Especially jobs which require some practical use. Whenever Craig had a project or his friends made him join some club, he was looking forward to figuring out how those tasks would turn out. Most often he would immediately take the logical or crafting part of such a task, if he had a chance. On the other hand when he was assigned to search for theory, he got so easily bored. Craig needed action, some kind of an adventure, even though he also enjoyed staying stable on the ground. He was aware of his single-minded personality and liked to pigeonhole himself as thick-skinned. When Craig lacked active experiences, he became pronto insecure and the feeling of: 'I surely must have forgotten something,' kept maliciously lurking around. Following some kind of a schedule used to drive him literally insane but whenever he tried to break free from the grip of prescribed future, he only received a fat blow to his chest by the unbelievable fact that no one understands what he means. People just assume Craig has a rebellious phase and creeps around like a zombie, they would not even listen! It's just so simple, yet they can't seem to even care…

Craig tries to tell them… but he regularly fails.

"I am tired," he says often or: "I can't do this today, I'm busy." Busy with what exactly? Well… Honestly nothing in particular. Craig is just simply exhausted, he doesn't feel like he can cope with anything more than to open his notebook and either watch the same movie or the same show all over and over again, because watching something new bores him to death or study but only for subjects he really enjoys and not just those people automatically assume he must love or be good at. Sometimes he feels caged in his own circle. 

Funny thing. When Craig told this to Mr. Mackey a few weeks ago, he expected an explanation, or at least a bit of understanding. Mr. Mackey suggested a part-time job. Craig refused, a deep disappointment beginning to grow in the very core of his heart. That's what he had just said! That is the problem! It isn't like Craig would be lazy. Thomas and Laura Tucker both work from morning till the night and well, let's just say that they have enough money to let their children eat, sleep in a house, drink and study. Yet when Craig told them he felt bad for spending their spare money, Thomas gave him one of those typical monologues, to which you can only listen and nod. "Mum and I would be much happier, if you studied well enough to have a great job you could enjoy and be well paid for, son. It'd be a splendid income for us, of course but you really don't have to do so. We enjoy spending money on you. Remember that, Craig," 

Craig remembers.

“Mr. Mackey is just a dick after all,” Craig sighes to himself, staring at a picture taken of him and his friends at Kyle Broflovski's birthday party 3 years ago. ‘Wonder what’s Clyde doing… Maybe if I called him, he’d talk me out of this depression with his stupid rambles.’ Craig thinks. 'No… Not Clyde. If I told him I'm desperate, he'd just cry like a baby. Can't cope with that today.' Craig's eyes trace to Tolkien. 'Tolkien might be free… I am actually not sure. We haven't talked for such a long time properly, I'm not sure if he's busy or not…' Craig nibbles on his lip anxiously, realizing that not knowing is his own fault. 'He should have told me, if he is.' His panic ends with a clear statement. When his eyes dart off to Jimmy Valmer, Craig smiles sadly. 'I should have probably gone to the news-club on Friday. I'm foolish for leaving Jimmy alone, yet I suppose he did well enough. He's talented after all, he can manage.' The last person Craig thinks of is Thomas. Craig can't help but wince at the thought. He and Thomas haven't talked in ages. They used to share a lot of interests and Craig must admit that at some point, he considered Thomas his best friend, comparable to Clyde Donovan. Yet after Thomas moved away, they had met just a few times. Lately every message he gets or sends from the boy, leaves Craig feeling uncomfortable, expecting Thomas to yell at Craig for not answering or writing to him for such a long time. Or just the sheer disappointment on Thomas's face whenever Craig tells him he doesn't have time or forgets to congratulate him on his 18th birthday. It is not like Craig wouldn't like Thomas, he loved him as a friend whatsoever since the very beginning and admired Thomas for coping with his Tourette's in such an elegant way but Craig also had this terrible, terrible habit. That habit scared the shit out of him sometimes. When Craig doesn't meet face-to-face with a person in more than a few months or doesn't text in more than a month, he… begins to lack interest. No matter how important the person is, Craig becomes… selfishly apprehensive of starting a conversation. Which all leads to his immense fear of being forgotten too. He hadn't seen Thomas in a year! Last time was on the summer holidays and oh Gosh, how awkward that was!

Craig eventually decided not to call anybody, claiming silently he would only bother his friends with such manners anyway. It didn't always use to be like this. Craig would often dispute about anything really with those guys but suddenly he felt different. He felt like he shouldn't and that just pissed him off so much! Because Craig used to not care at all what others think and he would love to return back to that. People do talk about useless stuff all the time! Why couldn't Craig Tucker, the "fuck off" king, have at least a bit of self-esteem in that?! How could have this happend? Craig used to give zero fucks and now? He was a fucking wreck.

"...When I multiply x by minus five divided by pi minus, I should be able to get a clear answer leading to what y stands for… How come it doesn't work then, damn it!" Craig growls, pushes the book away and crosses his arms on his chest. He fumes out frustrated, shuts his eyes strongly, opens them quickly and tries to focus again. His sight stays misty for quite some time as his eyes fill with salt water. "Fuck this," Craig mutters and stares at his computer. 'There's no way I can concentrate on learning now. I don't have an appetite either, so dinner isn't on the list too. Honestly, I'd love to just turn myself off and lay on the carpet... Let's do that!' Craig leans down on the carpet in the middle of the small room and grabs his phone. There's nothing new or striking on the internet. Memes don't make him laugh much anymore and scrolling down naked pictures of women and men don't "amuse" him either.  What Craig does is that he opens every story on Instagram of the people he knows. That's how he gets answers these days.

Tolkien was outside with Nichole and now works in his father's office. Check. Not available.

Clyde is in the city with his tutor on science. Craig grins. 'Clyde and I've never really had the same interests.' Whenever Craig would talk about space or engineering, Clyde would shut him up because it reminded him of his own hatered towards those topics. On the contrary Craig loved science. 

Jimmy hangs out with Timmy Burch and other kids from the special courses. This weekend they're visiting a freshly opened anthropology museum in Denver. Craig recalls Jimmy mentioning he would rather jump off of a roof than go to such a museum.

"Typical," Craig mutters. Thomas hasn't posted any story. Like always.

Lastly Kenneth McCormick, the practically homeless kid, Craig used to hang out with sometimes, especially in elementary school. After Kenny's parents had been arrested and Kenny was sent to an orphanage with his little sister Karen, Craig and him haven't talked much. Recently Kenny bought himself and Karen a phone, which the siblings also share. "Until I have enough money to buy us both," Craig recalls  Kenny saying the last time they saw each other… and the last time he saw Karen. Craig felt a strong urge and need to protect that little girl. Of course, she was almost the same age as Ruby, but that wasn't it. Ruby is a bitch but Karen is an angel! When they were younger, Karen would sometimes come to their house and play with dolls and cars in the basement with Ruby and sometimes even alone. She's actually the exact opposite of both Kenny and Craig. The McCormick's all grew up in a household, where illegal drug dealing took place. "You and I, Fucker, we are bonded, I've connected the dots," Kenny once said. Craig answered something rude like: "You have connected a larger shit than you're yourself, dude." Actually Craig can't quite seem to remember what the exact form of Kenny's phrase was but he surely does think of that sentence a lot. Kenny meant it and even though Craig probably misunderstood it all, Craig liked to think it meant something deeper. Craig also thinks there was something hidden between the lines of that icy-blue eyed blonde. For being such an idiot, Kenny always used to say some weird metaphorical riddles, which even made sense at some point!

Kenny posted a reel instead of a story. He and Butters have been to an amusement park and Kenny made fun of Butters in the haunted house. 

"Look! LEO THERE'S A ZOMBIE AND IT'S GOING TO KILL US!" Kenny screams, his phone shifting from side to side so nothing is a clear image. The video is pure chaos. Kenny is laying on some higher platform, looking at Butters from above. Butters is desperately trying to find Kenny in the dark, completely confused.

"Stop, Kenny! This house is boring, it's literally for childr-AH!" Butters cries as Kenny jumps at him from the roof. The video ends by an insufferable clamor of unidentifiable noises.

Craig lets out a silent jeer.

"CRAAAAAAIG!" Tricia shouts somewhere behind the walls. Craig ignores her and only turns to his left to mindlessly watch Stripe chewing on her carrot. "CRAIGORYYYY!" Tricia repeats, her voice slightly louder. Her stomps on the stairs are, indeed, heavy.

Click!

The door fleets open. Tricia rushes in. She walks over to the center of Craig's room, keeping a fixed eye-contact with the boy.  She doesn’t say anything, just stares at him from above. Her strawberry blonde pig-tails wiggle, as she shakes her head in disappointment. Craig frowns. “What the fuck do you want?” he asks, his voice raspy. Tricia teeters on her heels and looks away from the window. It’s opened so you can hear birds happily chirping and kids laughing down from the park. Bright dazzling light peers through the curtains thrown airy over the shutters. Craig has to squint his lids to look at Tricia’s odd expression.

"Ms. Stephanie called," Tricia said, her sight locked on the window: "She said you skipped every Newspaper club meeting since the beginning of the winter semester. She asked if you still want to attend," her voice was slightly off but she tried to stay cool and collected. Ruby liked to appear as a tough girl.

"...And what did you tell her?" Craig asked with genuine interest. Tricia didn't answer.

"Ruby?" Craig pronounced Tricia's nickname roughly: "What did you tell her?"

Tricia looked back at him. "I hung up," she said, her face flat like her brother's. Craig's loud sigh followed up.

"Nice. Really nice," Craig dead-panned sarcastically and flipped Tricia off. She returned the fire and ran away.

‘Wonderful, now I have to call her back.’ Craig slapped his face. Damn. ‘Maybe I could text Jimmy, if he can tell her later… No, This is my fucking “responsibility” I should tell her myself,’ Craig purses his lips when the word “responsibility” crosses his mind. He decides to google Ms. Stephanie’s schedule and luckily finds out, consultation hours are on Sunday in the evening. ‘Bogue street 458, South Park, that’s near the baseball court, I think. I could fit that in what… 20 minutes? Yup,’ Craig doesn’t even bother to double-check the information. He proceeds to run down the stairs, quickly grabs his skate and hops on it right when his feet touch the asphalt of the Main street, ignoring the calls of both his sister and mother.

The ride is surprisingly calm. Not many cars get in the way and even those little brats don’t randomly jump into Craig’s direction. Craig must admit that he enjoyed the journey, which these days is a bit unhoped for. He felt a wave of pride, when he arrived on the spot at the exact time he predicted it. The stale old monumental edifice stood there in front of the suddenly small human ant and the doorbell had already been looking forward to ringing its favourite tune.

Craig hesistated while moving his finger towards the doorbell. Before it sang it's song, Craig's chest had filled itself with a dull tension pulling him away from the button. 

"I'm here to see Ms. Stephanie," Craig said rather inpolitely and the door opened. Craig took his time while approaching Ms. Stephanie's office. He had to climb up the stairs and even though he could watch the school garden outside, it didn't bring many good memories. Much more those bad. He shook it off before knocking.

"Come in!" Ms. Stephanie called from the inside.

"Oh, Craig! Perfect. Come and sit," her smile was bright and welcoming. She gestured to a sofa in front of her with a flourish and Craig welcomed that behaviour gratefully. She didn't greet him in return for his silence, he was aware.

"Well, I assume you're here because of the call, right?" she asked, her sight jumping from the paper she had been reading before interruption and Craig's dead eyes. He nodded.

"Ok..." she put the papers away, straightened her back and folded her hands on the table, locking her sight with the Noirette.

"It's fine, if you changed your mind about the club. It'd be polite though, if you said it because now I had to explain to PC Principal your 100% absence, Mr. Tucker," she said, her voice firm and confident. Craig shifted hastily on his seat.

"So, is it okay, if I cross you out of the list, Craig?" her question echoed in the small office. Craig hated these questions. He had to decide in just a few seconds and if he didn't, he'd be yelled at. He hated conflicts, disincluding physical fights, if anything. 

"I..." Craig sighed, his sorrowful eyes glaring on the kids playing outside: "I want to stay."

"Oh? Why don't you come on the meetings then? Craig, I am sorry but you can't attend the newspaper club, if you don't even come. I suppose you must agree on some terms, if I won't cross your name out, okay?" Ms. Stephanie pointed out, her brows up.

"Okay." Craig recited his favourite answer. Simple and boring, just the way he liked it.

"So, tell me, young man. Will you come next lesson?" Ms. Stephanie questioned, her tone becoming more and more unpleasant.

"Yes. I will," Craig lied. He wasn't sure yet.

"Great. You can go then. Session dismissed." Ms. Stephanie grinned again and waved a little at the boy.

"Goodbye," Craig blurted out, closing the door behind him already.

Craig ran down the stairs. His heart was racing and when he stepped through the gateway he had to lean on the wall and pant. 'Oh, fucking hell. Not fucking again! Why is this happening all the time! Nothing bad happend! It was just a stupid conversation with the old woman!' Craig scolded a few times.

"Aaah! Fuck!" he growled rather loudly and hit the wall behind him strongly with his fist. "OUCH! FUCK ME! SCREW THIS DAMN SHIT! FUUUUUCK!!!" he yelled kicking the freshly cut grass tufts on the school lawn. 

"Why the fuck... Why the fuck am I doing this..." he then whispers. His eyes fill with salt water but he doesn't let the tears flow. Craig takes his skateboard under his left hand and decides to walk on foot. The moldy building he leaves behind him by every next step reminds him of the past. As he thinks of it now, the past hadn't seemed so bad, when he was younger. But even though he hated the fact that it's been happening lately, his overthinking has taken over. Craig now sometimes on random occasions remembers a random moment, which he overthinks and sometimes even changes the meaning of the situation or the whole situation's outcome to the worse or worst scenario. The worst possible thing is when Craig realizes what some moments really meant or what they made him seem like. He would be such a weirdo most of the time. Sometimes he wondered how could have Clyde even thought Craig would make a good friend. How could Clyde decide that Craig would have become his best friend? How? When Craig used to be such a creep? 

Craig nibbled on the inside of his left cheek. He walked down the Bogue Street and passed by all the well known shops and institutions. He would spend so much time in some of those as a kid. Just now he had passed the cinema. He smiled when a thought of his gang being stressed out over the premier of new films such as Indiana Jones or Ironman occurred in his mind. 

The basketball court was overcrowded by little children screaming at each other. Craig and his friends used to get into so many fights over the basketball court. They wanted to play there everyday but Marsh and those other fuckers had always been there earlier than them. They would complain about how could have that been ever even possible since Cartman weighed about 500 pounds and would lose a race even to an infant. 

The last institution he approached to before turning right was former coffee shop. Craig never liked to think about that. The scandal which lead towards closing that shop and the consequences were rather... frightening. Craig shivered by just brushing off the memory away from his mind.

And then it hit him.

There he was. There was the boy.

Tweek Tweak was standing next to the sports centre reading a message board about martial arts.

There was the blonde kid Craig would just love to forget forever.

Chapter Text

Craig gasped for air. There he was. Tweek motherfucking Tweek.

'Why?! How! How is this even possible!? I have just been thinking about him and now he appears here suddenly after like what... three years?! WHAT THE FUCK!' Craig's mind quickly becomes hazy. 'No! I have to keep calm! Maybe he won't recognize me. It's been three years after all. He could have forgotten. Hopefully he won't even notice me. Right. Of course he wouldn't recognize me. He seems way too interested in that poster too. If anything, he never used to notice anything important anyway. And he absolutely forgot about me too. Right, Tucker? There's nothing to worry about. I don't need to do much to not be seen, right? Just act normal, Tucker. Don't do anything stupid and don't make any sudden moves... he might freak out.' Craig put on his hood and stepped forward fast. While passing the blonde, he made sure to look directly into the ground. 'It worked! It's working!' and it would have. On most people this technique would but unfortunately, Tweek Tweak was apparently an exception.

"Oh!- H-hi! Sorry but are you a local?" Tweek asked. His voice was raspy, lower than Craig remembers. Craig halted and his brain melted into a useless syrup. Tweek's voice has changed a lot. Craig struggled for a few seconds. He wanted to just disappear and never even hear that blonde's name ever again but also... Supposedly... If Craig made sure this time that Tweek would never want to talk to him again, maybe Tweek would finally understand that he is not fucking welcomed in Craig's life. He doesn't need ignorants in his life anyway.

When Craig turned back to look at Tweek, immediate regret filled his entire body. Tweek's face was so bright! Full of hope! His huge blue eyes shined vibrantly and even more after he without hesitation recognized the Noirette. Of course. 

"H-hi!" Tweek smiled, avoiding eye-contact.

"Hey," Craig retorted with a flat monotone.

"Oh! Oh, God!" Tweek blurted out and intertwined his fingers, fidgeting nervously. He was smiling but as soon as his tired eyes met with Craig's dull, he looked away. "It's nice to see you, again," Tweek then said. Craig winced at that.

"So, what did you want?" Craig jumped to the earlier topic avoiding the last sentence on purpose. He pursed his lips when Tweek didn't seem to understand the question, glancing up mindlessly in confusion. Craig's eyebrows felt like being forcefully knitted together. His wrinkles must be three times deeper than normally. Tweek just stood there, his arms shivering a bit but otherwise he was just... he seemed... odd. Nothing like: "Crazy". Craig raised his eyebrows and leaned a bit closer to grab Tweek's attention back.

"Oh right..." Tweek snapped out of his own thoughts. "Sorry, I'd like to apply to box training but here it says that the gym is open only on the weekend, Tuesday and Wednesday. H-How come it's clos-closed then?" Tweek questioned while pointing to the board with his index-finger. Craig shifted his sight to the poster too and squinted his eyes to focus.

"It's closed," Craig answered. "...Yes? That's... why I'm asking. I tried calling to the office b-but n-n-no-... It didn't work. I guess their phone is broken? Or maybe out of battery. Oh, maybe they just forgot to say that they're having a break! Mah-Maybe or is it really Sunday? Yeah, it must be Sunday, I checked before leaving. Why-"

"It's closed," Craig reiterated: "Don't you understand? Stop rambling," 

"Sorry, I guess I talk too m-much," Tweek smiled shyly, hiding his mouth behind the collar of his shirt. He always used to do that, when he got nervous. Sometimes he would even nibble on it. "Maybe you do," Craig flat-lined.

"So what do you think, then? You still live here, don't you? You c-could k-kno-"

"I'd rather kill myself than free willingly gather information about this hellhole," Craig intervened. Tweek paused for a few seconds, visibly lost in his own mind.

"B-but-"

"Yeah... Well, I guess they're just closed today. You know how it goes here, things get closed fast. Especially when the owner decides to do drugs or has a never ending hangover," Craig answered a bit jokingly and waved it off with his right hand looking anywhere but at the blonde. Suddenly the air began to feel very dense as Craig realized what he had just said. The last time Craig and Tweek talked before...before that disaster happend well let's just say that Tweek was not really put up together. He used to be a wreck of emotions and paranoia, he would tremble and scream in terror in a period of time close to minutes or seconds. Sometimes when a regular sentence was said he would react in such an exaggerated way that he would make everyone around him feel miserable or terrified. However that day, Tweek was calm and quiet. He was like a ticking bomb, ready to blow up any second. Just like the saying: "The calm before the storm". 

"You good?" Craig remembers himself being worried. Tweek looked up at his friend. He stared for a long time with no real expression. Just then the fakest smile of the history of fake smiles disfigured his round, chubby cheeks. "Fine," he said. After that Craig only recalls berserk Tweek bawling: "THEY'RE GONNA GET ME!" followed by countless unrecognizable noises and mortifying screeches as they were taking him away. As he thinks of it... that was the last time he saw him too.

"I... Um... Yes. I-I sup-suppose," Tweek struggled: "Y-You must b-be right." A bright nervous smile enriched his long face. It was blinding... and confusing. Craig didn't answer. He just stared with wide eyes and jaw hanging open. Tweek he... he was normal. Too normal.

It didn't take less than a few seconds to make the silence between them unendurable. Tweek was staring intensely into the ground, fidgeting. Craig glanced down at his own shoelaces and wondered. Is this really Tweek Tweak? Who is he even...? There was so much to say, but nothing nice, definitely not. Those moments, that ending... just. It was just... 

Everything was too much.

"Well, thanks, I should proba-"

"Why are you here?" Craig interrupted rudely. His tone was rough and expression twice more. Tweek lurched and his wide eyes met with Craig's. He was shaking and his pupils narrowed like to a small scared puppy. Craig almost felt bad for his own actions as the boy in front of him, according to his opinion, "overreacted". This seemed more like the Tweek he used to know.

"Wh-what do you mean?" Tweek exclaimed. Craig remained silent. He examined the blonde from toes to the pit of his head. Black timberlands with a thick platform, blue regular jeans, grey shirt and a colorful knitted Norwegian sweater embraced his rather tall figure. He was skinny but not unhealthy. The pitch of his pointy nose looked like a minefield of small freckles. He changed... so much. It was unbelievable. 

"What are you doing here? Why would you even come back here?" Craig couldn't help himself. He needed to know. If anything, he needed to know why does the boy still... Why is he still here? He was transported... away and then moved too, didn't he? He never wrote a letter, left a message or passed by. It felt as if the blonde disappeared from the world! There was no information about him, most people from the town assumed he perished or... he was... sent away, which he was, wasn't he?

"I-" Tweek shrieked.

"You were sent away to a psycho-camp, weren't you? You moved away! Where to even? Do you have a house or are you a damn orphan too? Why would you return then, huh! Wasn't that enough?"

"...Shut-"

"Didn't they put you in that unit for a reason? Shouldn't you be a normal person now and not a fucking ignorant spaz-"

SLAP!

"SHUT UP!" Tweek screamed: "DON'T FUCKING INSULT ME, ASS!"

Craig panted as his both hands traced towards the red spot turning bluish which was forming across his left cheek: "What happend?" Craig almost mumbled. Startle filled his mind. 'That came out of me without thinking! Damn! What the fuck am I doing?' 

"I- I-What the fuck do you care, huh?" Tweek blurted out contemptuously with such a speed that his spit landed on Craig's indigo sweatshirt. "I can do-do what the fuck I want. What I do is not y-your f-fucking business, dick!" Tweek screamed. When Tweek opened his eyes again, he saw a fist dangerously near to his nose. His reaction was too slow, he got hit. Tweek howled in pain and stumbled a few feet back. He touched his nose. A fresh crimson liquid flowed down his middle finger followed by a sweaty palm and then dripped onto the pavement. A sheer anger flashed behind Tweek's green eyes. Before Craig could react a quick clenched fist met with his right cheek. That's how a remarkable fight began.

The Noirette approached fast, faster than Tweek expected. He started with a kick directed to Tweek's crotch but Tweek dodged. With that Craig's strong but stiff body discovered its disadvantage. Tweek was flexible. Craig wasn't. Craig received a punch to his left hip. He let out a choked cry. After that Craig didn't hesitate, he pushed all of his strength against the blonde and struck the other boy with his flexed arms folded on his chest. That took Tweek out of guard and he was forced to lapse. Craig promptly took advantage of the situation and led his next punch to Tweek's lower abdomen. When he felt his fist touch the soft fabric, he smirked. On the contrary Tweek cried out. Craig stood firm and proudly praised himself for such thinking but he was left shook again. Tweek coughed as he held his own hurt belly but no doubt didn't give up. Tweek striked again. This time with full force, no holding back. Craig underestimated the blonde once again. 

All those years ago. Craig remembered abruptly. He once made the same mistake before. But at that time they were just kids, fighting over nothing. How foolish children could be... To be tricked into a pointless battle which none of them could win. It felt like the most intense moment in Craig's short life that time. But now... This was different. They were fighting because it was needed. It was necessary... Nobody forced them. They chose it. Was there a clear reason? No. Did it matter? Not at all.

The fight continued on. Both boys refused to give up. With all the punches and kicks they moved slightly to the road and people started noticing. They gained quite an audience actually. Mostly some fourth graders or other little kids who either tried to cheer them on or yelled in horror when their eyes met with violence and blood. With that followed by a different one, some older retirees gathered around. That meant an easily deducted consequence. Huddled old people in this town always, and I'll repeat that again, always ended up calling the police.

Craig fell on the ground. Tweek pushed him and he stumbled over his own legs. All he saw was a berserk Tweek reaching for another blow. Craig's quick thinking lend him a hand again. He grabbed a bigger rock wallowing beside them and threw it at Tweek's head. Just at time. Tweek shouted and grabbed his head. He fell to his knees. There were stars forming around Tweek's mind but he still refused to give up. No, not this time. He can't give up! He isn't a loser. He deserves a win! He deserves to be one of them! Tweek got up shakily. Craig followed. They both stood there, exhausted. They grunted and growled as the whole body hurt them. Craig felt his mind turning black and so he advanced forward out of his last strength. 

Panting and now practically constantly screaming, Tweek quickly grabbed Craig's wounded approaching fist and twisted the boy's arm. Craig yelled and lost the trace of his own legs. Tweek put full pressure onto Craig's back with his elbow and pushed the other onto the sidewalk. He pinned the Noirette to the ground with the help of his knee, still convulsively holding Craig's arm twisted. He clenched and gritted his teeth and screamed. Tweek was trembling. Craig was growling behind the muffled weeping. Tweek really just managed to immobilize a boy. Not a regular boy. Craig motherfucking Tucker. Craig Tucker who used to challenge all the kids in town for a fight, easily winning every one of them. Craig Tucker who never gave any fucks. Craig Tucker who always forgot to perceive other people's feelings and emotions. Craig... who never stood up against all those fuckers bullying Tweek even though he claimed they were "friends".

"I won't answer your damn dumb questions! I came here just to train and you happend to pass by! That's it! And you DICK turned it into a fight again, huh! LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO! You don't deserve my time! You don't deserve my sympathy, you fake-ass fucking-.. grhnn...-- DICK!"

Craig was left in a mortifying awe.

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO FUCKING PUNCH ME! IF YOU EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN, I'LL BEAT THE FUCKING SOUL OUTTA YOUR BODY!" Tweek beckoned, shrilling. The sound of his voice was nothing but horrid and threatening. He absolutely meant it. Craig felt a pair of shaky hands tightening around his sweaty neck.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?" Tweek shouted.

The wind was still. Autumn leaves were flying gracefully around in small tornadoes. Happy chirping exchanged a sound of fluttering wings and startled shrieks.

Crows.

"I- do." Craig choked out, suffocating.

"SAY IT AGAIN!"

"I DO!" Craig yelled and let himself weep like a little baby, as his lungs began to dry out of oxygen.

Tweek shook his head. A sudden terrifying realization filled his entire body. He was smothering the boy. He was seriously hurting Craig Tucker. Tweek raised his head up and witnessed a rather numerous group of people watching them in dismay. No. No, no, no, no, no! I CAN'T GO BACK! THEY CAN'T TAKE ME BACK! I CHANGED! I-! Tweek collapsed onto the pavement next to Craig.

They both fainted.

Chapter Text

If Ruby had a knife, she could cut the air in this car right now. The atmosphere was filled with unpleasant unease and untold conversations which should have happened right at the beginning, yet they never have. She couldn’t look elsewhere than outside the window. Usually she used to sit in the left backseat, but not today. Today she owned the frontseats section. Her father’s strong cologne was striking her nostrils every time he pulled the shift lever. His movements remained focused but with every turn, he pulled the steering wheel unnecessarily harshly. If Ruby wasn’t used to her brother’s bumpy rides to school, she would honestly start freaking out.

Thomas Tucker was furious.

This unbearable silence began swallowing her about 6 hours ago, when the landline started ringing and she took the call. Ruby shut her eyes and covered her mouth with the hand she had been supporting her head with. That memory… The way she froze when the policeman mentioned her brother’s name and "criminal" in the same sentence- she can’t forget. She won’t forgive him for this. She couldn’t even comprehend what was going on after her father took the phone and with the calmest of dead eyes he set off hand in hand with Ruby to their truck. They entered the station and- and! Ruby leaned onto the car-door fully. 

Her brother was a fighter. He was a meanie. He was a dick. But he was neither a “jailbird” nor “felon” and definitely not a "criminal".

At least that’s what she had been convinced he wasn’t but apparently she didn’t know her brother at all. His name rolled over and over her mind as a nagging insect. She couldn’t even think of saying the name out loud now. She was just so stunned. Exasperated. Shocked. Angry. Disappointed! Just-eh-. Upset! This situation was unsustainable! Terrible! He never changed! He was unteachable. He's a fucking dumbass. Heh. That's fitting.

Craig's rough coughs creaked through her sensitive ears. They occured from the back seats. After five seconds of those cracking sounds Ruby felt her muscles constrict. She bit her lower lip and her face crumpled even more as she frowned. The coughs went on and on. She imagined how the other boy tightened his grip around Craig's neck and twisted and twisted until his head fell off. Sick! Fuck. She's about to throw up.

"Shut the fuck up," Dad thundered and pointed a middle finger to the boy's direction.

Ruby jumps. Craig immediately chokes on his own mucus and coughs a few last times under his breath. Then he shifts very slowly on his seat and cautiously avoids making any other sounds. Dad growls. And the hush continues. Shivers travel from Ruby's toes through her spine up to the top of her head as she swallows.

The tiles in Tucker's bathroom are glossy and khaki and the wall enriches a light purple wallpaper. When you enter the room the first thing you see is the toilet. It's a perfect place to take a shit when you're feeling sick. The window is close by but not too close so you can leave it open for the smell to flow outside but also you won't freeze to death as well. The mirror hangs above a porcelain white sink often covered with fallen hair from a comb or spits of a toothpaste. That's a great spot for a mirror because you can't possibly see yourself shitting in the reflection, that would be embarrassing, don't you think? At the side there's a bathtub. Ruby throws her body to the full tub and water splashes around those glossy khaki tiles, light purple coloured wallpaper and porcelain white sink. The perfectly set window is closed and the door locked. She hides in the cold water whole- only eyes, nose and the parting of her hair could be seen. She sighs heavily and winces at the screams and shouts coming from the kitchen downstairs. 

Mum arrived home about 30 minutes after Ruby, dad and her afflicted brother did. Ruby promised herself to not look at Craig at the station after his release. She succeeded. Well... Until she turned in the hall for her coat. She wanted her phone but after she caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye Craig's swollen black eye, torn lip, reddened bruised neck and abraded joints on his shaking hands… She turned back and ran up the stairs to the bathroom. She whisked the door closed, leaned on it, hid her face in her sweaty palms and cried. The house stayed dangerously quiet as if it was waiting for the real storm to begin later. Truly. The real disaster began when Ruby's eyes were blinded by approaching car lights. Mum. Just as soon as Ruby lost her sight over the raging woman, the deadly quiet house turned upside down.

It began with screams and shouts coming from the kitchen. At some point she heard something fragile break, assumably a plate, followed by quiet. That didn't long last as sudden loud fast stomping up the stairs scared the soul ot of her. Ruby couldn't recognize from all that fuss wheather it was Craig running or one of their parents. To be honest, she really didn't care. This was ridiculous. Just end this. Yelling won't help anything.

"It's all just your fault! Now everyone thinks you're ready for that camp too and it's all just your stupid fault!" Laura Tucker yelled. The tone of her voice was shaking- she was miserable.

"Maybe if you so called "super parents" cared a little, I wouldn't be such a fucking wimp!"

"Don't talk to me this way, young man-"

"Or else what!? Punch me? Send me to a camp? Ground me for the rest of my fucking life?! Oh, please, mother! Do as you wish! I don't fucking care! At least I'd be gone from this fucking hellhole!" Craig keeps snivelling between his rough words.

"Craig Tucker, this is serious!"

"I AM BEING SERIOUS! I AM! COME ON! ARE YOU NOT LISTENING TO YOURSELF?! I JUST-"

"Enough," a lower voice growled: "Get your ass to your room, think about what you've done and we'll talk tomorrow. One bad word to your mother and you. are. done."

"Done for what-"

"Done with this fucking house! I won't tolerate a fucking nutcase in my household!- SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET TO YOUR ROOM!" Ruby has never heard her father shout this much.

"A NUTCASE!?" Craig scoffs, he's probably on the edge of losing himself completely: "YEAH! THAT'S WHAT I AM! YOU GOT IT JUST RIGHT, DA-"

SLAP!

"GO TO YOUR FUCKING ROOM, BASTARD!" is followed by a strong door slam. And just like that silence overtook the house again.

Craig stands in the middle of his room. The only sound he hears are Stripe's frighteneted squeaks. He ignores them. All of his energy is now consumed by his brain to repress all those emotions in. Just don't let those eyes let out a single tear. Don't let his perfect flat face to change anytime soon. Hopefully never. As Craig watches his window, while still trying desperately to not get his mind on anything that's happend this day, he takes a glimpse of Clyde's. The lights are on. Clyde's at home. Craig could possibly visit or... No. That won't do any good. Clyde would just cry like a little useless crybaby he is. He has to do this on his own. There's no other way.

Craig opens the cage where a scared Quinea pig lives and grabs it. He pets it a few times carefully and then places it on his bed. Then he grisps his Red Racer rucksack and fills it with a pair of pants, T-shirt, socks, boxer shorts, his old chullo with a yellow tassel, five raw energy snacks, half-empty bottle of watter and his wallet. He forgets to add tissues, like Bilbo from Hobbit. Before he opens the window, he turns back to his animal friend and lets out a hint of a smile. 

"Goodbye, Stripe. You'll have to suffer through a few meals from Ruby. She won't trick you though, she's a moron but not so bad," he whispers and cuddles it against his bruised cheek covered by a cotton wool plaster: "I love you, Stripe." With those being his last words before an another end he carefully lets Stripe back into her cage.

Just then, Craig opens up the window and jumps through.

Chapter Text

Sometimes... all you have to do is simply wait.

The world we've been living in currently is overflowed by quick accessibility and fake or useless information our brains are forced to sieve everyday. It isn't an easy task the so called "Gods" have put out on us. That's for sure. And even though those "Gods" were supposed to create us, give us happiness and love... we must all constatly go through that unbearable stress. Often this weight doesn't feel like a bother at all, sometimes you forget about it. But at those quiet dark moments: You remember. Vividly. You remember all those memories that's been creeping you out for years but you chose to forget them. Forget? No. You let some fake or useless information in your head instead, in order to mask your emotions for that one huge traumatic event. And you don't want to accept that that experience is trauma. You keep convincing yourself that maybe you really are just overthinking, that everyone has something unpleasant that's happend in their lives, you can't be that one human who falls down! You are strong! You have everything you need! You are only destined to rise up! And that's all nice like sugar and spice. However... down deep in the core- you know. There's something wrong.

"It's all my fault," Craig sighs out while exhaling that sweet smoke of a joint. It formed into a foggy cloud of a cruel realisation. Craig leans on the back wall of the suspiciously smelly building. "I am the one who's at fault," he repeats louder. "Me..." rest: "It's me. Craig-... Craig motherfucking Tucker." He scoffs weakly. "It has always been me."

Before Craig had stumbled upon the Tegridy farms shop, he was fully convinced we would run away anywhere. But on the way to nowhere, Craig eventually decided to only go to the 24/7 open Marsh's weed shop and then return back home. He realized that it isn't his parent's or Ruby's fault that Craig's a stupid idiot after all. Definitely not Ruby's. She's a bitch but... a loveable one. Craig sighs. They have all rights to shout at him, scold him, give him ultimatums and all. He's their son after all. They could have kicked him out of their house. Or they could have left him on the station and he would most probably be rotting there right now. There's no reason for running away. There's also the thing... he has nowhere to hide. All Craig had was his family, Clyde, Tolkien, Jimmy and lately surprisingly Kenny. Craig used to hide at Clyde's house a lot when they were younger but lately Clyde would always only start blabbering and constantly whining about himself, girls or heartbreaks, which was a much greater torture than Craig's own confused mind. Tolkien's parents didn't want Craig around for some reason and waking up Jimmy at night would be just cruel. Craig was aware of Jimmy's bad sleeping schedule. He deserved at least those 4 hours a day.

There used to be a great friend that'd welcome Craig with open arms everytime he "ran away" or just wanted to hang out. But Thomas left and now all that's left here is just the feeling of something missing. Lust.

There used to be just one another person.

"Not a chance," Craig whispers. A deeply submersed memory of the two of them playing in that bedroom with brown walls climbed to the surface. Those wild soft tufts of hair shined in the moon's glow that day. Craig still remembers. It was the day he felt his stomach turn and his heart pound too fast. Then that heart turned cold and it torn apart. That feeling was too strong for Craig and he was aware how incredibly dangerous it was. It had to be kept in secret from his family, friends, the town and mostly from himself. That person used to hold Craig's deep trust in their boney hands. And as those azure gloomy eyes would look up, Craig's fasade would melt. But everything can break. That trust disappeared long time ago. 

"And now that little bastard shows up," Craig laughs: "What the fuck is he thinking? That I have easily forgotten all of that? Friends. Not a fucking chance. I bet you never thought of us as friends anyway!" Craig feels his heart beat fast but his body is tensed up. His brain's alarmed and keeps yelling: "IT'S WRONG! YOU'RE WRONG! THIS IS A MISTAKE!" Even when Craig and Tweek used to be close, Craig always felt a dragging tension down deep inside. Tweek was fascinating and that would scare the soul out of Craig's ten years old self.

"Wrong," Craig mutters. He frowns. "Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong..."

"WRONG!" Craig screams and kicks a fallen branch next to him. He feels like crying but even if he wants to, the tears wouldn't come out. Not even now, when he's high. Is he really high? Craig takes a long inhale and while exhaling he coughs roughly. "Hell yeah, that's the shit," he mutters but all he feels is just an anxious panic.

Has it ever happend to you that you got so desperate, you called a long-lost friend at 3 AM in the middle of a forest, while being high as a kite? Well, if yes, it happend to our hero too. 

"Hel-llo? Who's that-gnh?" a creaky male voice stuttered.

"I'm a fucking dick, that's who I am, idiot."

"...Fuck! Cock! Craig? Pussy! Is tha-that you?"

Craig coughs and scoffs.

"Who the fuck else would it be? A fucking leprechaun? Dude. The fuck do you think, crackhead," Craig flat-lines.

"Pussy! Fuck! What's wrong? It's three in the morning in the States-Cock! Are you alright?" Thomas whisper-yelles.

"So what- BURP!", Craig belched unexpectedly: "ain't ya supp'sed-...-t' be at school, dick?"he manages to blurt out somehow.

"CUNT! I am at school! I'm hiding in the fucking toilets because you wouldn't stop calling me-COCK!- Every goddamn FUCKING MINUTE!" Thomas bursts out angrily. "So spill it the fuck out, d-dick! What is it, dude?"

Craig takes a deep breath. What is it? Well, how should I know, right? That's why I'm calling you, aren't I? Or am I? D-... Huh? Am I really that fucked up?

"I saw Tweek." Craig's mouth says on it's own. A devouring silence follows. Craig begins panicking again. Oh, this is bad. This is terrible, what the fuck am I doing? It's been just too much. Too much! "He was h're in town," Craig's mouth tried to explain. He was letting it talk, it's not like a silence would help any of them.

"...So, he's okay?" Thomas asks. His voice filled with nothing else than pure worry.

Craig winced. He was trying to avoid this conversation for such a long time. Well, he didn't even have anything to talk about, since nobody really knew up untill yesterday wheather Tweek was even alive or not. And to add things up, it was Thomas he was about to confess right now. Thomas, whom Craig remembers stuttering a confession meaned towards himself. "I-I... I-I t-think I l-like like you!" Thomas yelped about 1 year ago at the train station. Craig got so confused, he didn't know what to do. He had zero idea that Thomas would like anybody at all and definitely not him. Craig felt terrible for not supporting Thomas's wishes because Thomas was one of his best friends and he felt a need to protect the boy from the outside world. He always wanted the best for Thomas. And now he didn't give him the thing Thomas desired the most. Love. From that point their friendship never returned to the previous state it used to be at. Craig missed it, to be honest but at the same time he couldn'tlook at Thomas the same way now. A call though? That could do it. Or maybe it was just the deadly desperation talking out of him.

"I fought with him," Craig flat-lined.

"FUCK! F-fought? What did you say, t-then?"

"Not with words. Like one o one, dude."

"YOU PUNCHED HIM?!" Thomas shouted through the speakers.

"NO SHIT, SHERLOCK! I beat the fuckin' shit outta him, dude! Fucker stood no chance," first lie.

"What the fuck, d-dude? You can't just go and punch him! He's crazy! -CUNT! ...He could kill you or something!"

"No, dude! He fuckin' hit me first. I was only defensing myself. He's a fucking psycho! Like dude, he attacked me," second lie.

"No way, man. He was neve-never that aggressive. I can't believe he was so fake all along..." Thomas's voice turns darker. He was probably starting to reconsider his own mind. Great.

"Dude, then they called the fucking police and I had to go to a fucking jail. Fucker said it was me who threw the first punch so now I'm on a probation. Dude I have to clean the fucking roads every Sunday unapid, I mean, fuck them, I ain't going there-"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. He was in a psycho-camp, wasn't he? S-so it has to be in his record. So, d-did they- COCK- sent him there again?" pause: "I mean, -TITS- it doesn't sound pretty healthy to start a fight with anyone."

No, it doesn't. You're 100% right. I am a fucking nutcase. I deserve this. I deserve all of this. I deserve to fucking perish.

"No. He talked them out of it," another lie. Fuck, Tucker! Stop lying! Face the reality!

"Oh okay..." Thomas pauses for a few seconds. 

The more time passes, the more uncomfortable the silence grows.

"So. He's in town?" Thomas asks.

"How the fuck should I know? Ask him yourself, dickhead." it's the tegridy talking out of me, isn't it?

"Ho, ho, ho. Craigory Fucker, stop talking-CUNT- to me like a -COCK- fucking DICK-!" behind Thomas's voice, door opens and shuts strongly. Thomas gasps and the call ends. Craig's phone begins beeping.

Beep!

Beep!

Beep!

Beep!

.

.

.

.

.

"FUCK ME!!!"