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Craig opened his eyes.
Moonlight was streaming in, cascading down to where he lay on the floor of the ocean. He didn’t know how deep he was, but there were no plants. No fish. Just him and the moon. His hand opened, releasing the handful of sand he held in his grasp, letting it slip through his fingers.
He didn’t have the drive to even sit up. His breathing was stable, inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly. It was peaceful here. Quiet. No one would find him here, alone on the blue ocean floor.
The sound down here was different. Dampened. Like how the air is after it snows. Not that there was really anything to hear. He could have screamed and no one would hear a thing.
Craig’s eyes slipped shut again.
He’d seen a bird once. A little yellow canary, probably someone's pet, small and defenseless. It had flown through his window and started to smash against the walls, blood spattering against the paint of his room.
He hadn’t known what to do.
He couldn’t help that the yellow looked familiar. He had thought about wild blonde hair as he tried to catch the bird, finally trapping it in a shoebox. He had smacked the lid on the box, waiting for it to settle. The flapping had stopped slowly, replaced by some sort of gasping breath. He had tentatively opened the box, lifting it up to see white pinfeathers and small drops of blood, the bird twitching. He had reached into the box, ignoring his gut and pulled the bird out, holding it gently as it rasped out its last breath.
No one deserved to be alone in their final moments.
Was that about the bird? Or about himself right now?
His eyes felt red now. Thinking about that canary felt like that time, all those months ago.
Swollen from crying, sitting in the chair at the parlor and staring blankly down at the pamphlet in his hand. It slipped from his fingers, falling to flutter to the floor. His mother had reached out, picking it up off the floor and setting it back in his lap. She had muttered something to him before threading her fingers through his hair, trying to calm him. Reassure him. Anything to let him know everything was going to be okay. The first time she had ever lied to him.
His lungs had felt tight in that moment, trying to choke down the feeling of loss. Staring at that stupid brown box had made everything feel too real, so he had willed himself to power through it, no matter how much he didn't want to. His personal canary was stuck in a shoe box of its own. People coming up to him and apologizing, like it was their fault. He was like a broken record. He’s doing fine, he would lie. It was no one's fault. It was just something that happened. Don’t apologize.
It did give him sort of satisfaction to see others crying, but no one loved him like Craig did. No one understood him like Craig did. No one would miss him like Craig did.
In that moment he wanted them all to suffer. To feel that loss. To see the person they loved laying in some sterile white room, full of tubes and pale with death.
That feeling didn’t last long. He had deflated like a balloon soon after. The shock had turned to rage, turned to misery.
After a little while he had started to feel numb. His voice had started to fade, his face soon after. No more laughing, no more quiet whispers, no more gentle kisses. Craig had been clutching to those memories, aching to hold them in his hands and press them to his chest, for them to sink through his skin and into where his heart used to be. It truly felt like an organ had been removed, pulled through his ribcage prematurely. His body burned and screamed for his other half back.
Nothing ever felt the same.
The moonbeams strayed through the water. Craig’s mind drifted like the current, images of various fish and sea life lingering in his thoughts. Snell’s light came up, a vague wikipedia article he had read skimming to the top of his mind. Something about how divers saw. It made him glance around the surface, his vision blurry through the water.
Could he have saved that canary from death? Could he have saved him from death? But he had come to that realization a long time ago, an answer billions of other people had come to, far earlier than he did.
Nothing could have saved him from his fate. It was foolish to even dwell on it. So he wouldn’t.
His mind drifted again.
The dead bird. Yellow bird. Would he have been a bird that could go underwater?
Maybe a penguin.
A smile tugged at his lips, thinking about the day so long ago they had been looking through a book together. He had pointed to a penguin, one of those ones with the stupid yellow hairs poking out on the sides, commenting how it looked very much like his little partner. The boy had become incensed, stomping his hair and crossing his arms, turning his nose up and declaring no it did not look like him!
It felt like he had taken all those moments for granted.
Why did he do that?
He would never experience that again.
You don’t know how important something is until you lose it. Even those mundane simple moments. He would give anything to feel that again.
He closed his eyes again, listening for seagulls up above him. He wondered if they flew at night or if they slept, letting the stars twinkle above them. Birds always reminded Craig of him. Light, and small, and so very free of constraints. Able to soar high above everyone else, to spread their wings and never look back.
A current swept against his side, pushing sand against his neck and ears. It seemed to push against his side, urging him to do something. He blinked his eyes open and turned his head slowly, over towards a figure. The only thing down here with him.
That familiar canary yellow hair fanned out around the person, waving slightly in the water.
Yellow always contrasted well with blue they agreed.
He was as ethereal as the moment Craig last saw him. Sunshine hair and clear blue eyes, miles of legs and pale skin. He couldn’t see them yet, but he knew there were freckles starred across his face, spattered against his back and shoulders. He used to use a gold glitter pen to connect them, making up silly constellations together.
That tightness in his lungs was back.
If he wasn’t underwater, the tears would have been clear against his skin. He clenched his hand in the sand again, his fingers tightening. It was an unconscious movement, like his body had an eager energy it was trying to let out. Everything else felt stiff, or almost exhausted. Like he couldn’t move at all.
Silence surrounded them, empty water, nothing but them.
“Hi.” The figure mouthed.
“Hi.” He said back. His voice was warbled, husky from lack of use.
Tweek smiled at him, walking slowly towards him. Craig stretched his arms out, starfishing.
He could hear his heartbeat again. It had been ages. It was quiet under the water, but it was there.
Finally Tweek sat down next to him, his legs folded up against his chest. He rested his cheek on his knee, staring down at Craig. Peace seemed to drift over his face, calm in the quiet of the current. Tweek walked his fingers across the ground, stopping just an inch away from Craig. He spread his fingers out against the sand, a breath away. The black haired boy let his eyes drift to his love’s hand, staring at the small gap between their fingers.
“You found me.” One said.
“I’ll always find you.” The other replied.
Tweek smiled, his eyes sad and understanding. Craig realized he could see through him. His body not quite there. It didn’t really matter. Nothing mattered.
They were together again.
Tweek lifted his eyes to the surface, and Craig followed his lead. He felt himself drifting away, finally feeling that sense of calm wash over him. His eyes fell out of focus, darkness creeping into the edges of his vision.
But it was all okay.
They sat together, fingers almost touching, looking up to the moon.
Alone together on the blue ocean floor.