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"Superstition is: If you'll eat grapes under the table, you'll have good luck in the new year."
Stan hears Clyde talk. One minute, it's about Chinese animal signs and what they mean for 2025, next, is the lucky color which will grant you good karma especially if it's your underwear color (which Stan's is (sadly) not), then it's grapes under the table.
He seriously doesn't know what made Clyde so fixated on New Year's fallacies or Chinese traditions, it's annoying enough that he hears it from literally everyone. Everyone gullible or just annoying. Guaranteed, the moment the clock'll strike midnight, Clyde will make another "Haven't showered in a year" joke just like last year. If he's blessed with creativity, maybe he'll change it to something about pooping. Nonetheless, he just doesn't hear the end of it.
But Stan's as gullible and annoying as everyone else. Albeit his classmate's stupid bickering and persistency, he might just eat the damn lucky grapes under the table.
"Seven minutes until midnight!" Bebe's voice is muffled under the thick dining room table cloth.
The ten second countdown hasn't even started, yet he could already hear the impatient whistles of fireworks outside. Lively chatters and excited teenagers fill the room, along with the loud, seasonal music in the background. It's all so bright and yellow out there, it hurts Stan's eyes and makes him feel suffocated.
He bites the first grape.
It's sour. He doesn't even like grapes.
There's another bang outside, louder and an indication for many more to soon come. His classmates cheer again with anticipation and Stan doesn't mind. He sits obedient underneath the table.
Not bothered.
Comfortable.
Alone.
Which wasn't for long. A pair of slender hands lay flat on the floor outside of his comfort, supporting the body it came with to crouch down. At first, Stan doesn't notice it. Until a familiar face with an overly annoying smirk was right in front of him.
"Get out." Stan doesn't even bother to hide the bitterness in his tone. Because he is.
Craig smiles even wider and in a swift move, goes under the table cloth and sits himself right beside the rotten boy. Stan glares at him, not really doing anything to stop Craig. The other boy simply flips him off.
It takes him a few seconds to notice the big pile of grapes between them. "You really believe that?" Craig asks, pointing at the plastic filled with the tiny, green, small fruit. Clyde's theory was clearly the implication.
"It's worth trying." He responds, grape, still in mouth.
The scowl he had earlier quickly disappeared. Just like always. Things like that were never personal between the two.
Craig hums in response.
"Five minutes!" Someone else yells.
It was weird seeing so many people excited for one countdown. He could see why but it never was a big deal for him. The Earth is spinning continuously, what's another full rotation around the sun?
"Can I have one?"
Craig says. Stan doesn't reply instantly. He looks at him in the darkness of the table. There's the indifference in his voice, not even asking politely. Deserving of a cold hard "No, fuck off."
"Help yourself."
Craig being next to him was strange. They weren't close but it wasn't that strange because they weren't exactly enemies in a way. They've approached eachother many times before. Craig, more than often to buy weed and Stan when to buy cigarettes with awkward small talk.
Craig takes a small grape from the plastic bag between them. Stan, watching his every move.
"I think the concept of New Year's Resolutions is ridiculous."
He puts the grape between his middle and index.
"How come?"
Stan doesn't fully process it, but underneath the table and hidden away from the others, it felt like all outside noises stopped. He couldn't hear anything other than Craig's stupid monotonous voice.
"Why wait until January to do something? It's just another saying like, "I'm gonna start my diet!" " Craig exaggerates his voice on the last part and Stan lets out a laugh. He could see his point, though.
"What, am I funny, Marsh?" Craig asks through furrowed brows and abysmal eyes.
"Like you could dream of it, Tucker."
Stan looks away when Craig does but in his peripheral, he could make out a faint smile on the taller male.
"What's something you want to accomplish this new year?"
"Like a New Year's Resolutions?" He finally pops the grape in his mouth.
"No, since you find it 'ridiculous'." Stan reaches for another.
"Just something you want to do in the future."
Craig goes quiet for a few moments—he was actually thinking about it. Stan lets out a small huff of air looking at his thinking face.
"Go to space."
Stan just looks at him. He can never really tell when Craig would be serious or sarcastic. If he had only two emotions, they'd be both.
"Space?" He asks, confused.
Craig hums before answering "Yeah."
He was going on about Resolutions being ridiculous a while ago yet his was probably the most ridiculous Stan's ever heard.
"You're joking." Stan says, more as a question than a statement.
"I'm serious." Craig looks at him blankly, like he's the crazy one.
"We're 15. We live in South Park. You're barely passing Science!" Stan contradics a bit too enthusiastically
"And! You're already there." Stan adds just for the comedic effect.
Craig rolls his eyes at the comment.
"First of all, I'm 16." Is all he says before taking another grape.
"And that last part was rude."
The air around them is looser, all the tension from before was gone now. That relieved him a bit. The table, what was once spacious and comfortable for Stan, was starting to close in on him. Like he was nervous.
"You?"
Stan snaps out of it and looks at him confused.
"Your resolutions?" He clarifies
"Ah."
"Hm. I don't know." He shrugs.
Craig scoffs. "That's boring. Even worse than mine."
Nothing really comes to mind when he tries to think of a comeback, like something about him he could somehow turn into a joke. All he could think of was how nice Craig's company was, how he made the small space smell of his cologne.
And how he could understand the women who have fawned over him, how pretty he was. And how warm his hand currently was over Stan's.
"One minute!" An excited squeal cuts through his moment. Craig is looking at him weird like he had been caught touching his ass.
He's gotten up, already ready to leave the tiny space. "Don't you want to celebrate with them?" He grabs Stan's hand. And he can't tell if its genuinity and softness he's hearing in his tone.
"No."
And maybe he answered too fast. Craig sits back down.
"You can go if you want, I'll stay here."
Sixty seconds. Sixty seconds and they've already started counting in the background.
"Nah."
"You sure?"
Craig rolls his eyes.
"Shut up before I change my mind."
Stan searches his eyes for any malice but all he finds is a strange feeling in his stomach.
"I like being with you."
"Ten!"
"Nine!"
"Eight!"
Craig looks at him with a soft look, something Stan hadn't seen before or known was possible for him to do other than a deadpan. Like he was admiring Stan. Or something.
Stan hadn't realized just how fast time was moving. He was planning to spend it all in confinement but here Craig was. And how slower time was now flowing. Something tugs at him, like he should actually be taking this moment seriously.
"Happy New Year." The words fall unnatural and forced from Craig's lips, like those weren't what he meant to say. Craig's voice was barely above a whisper and barely audible amidst the chanting. But Stan heard.
"Five!"
"Four!"
"Three!"
"Happy New Year." He says back.
And Craig genuinely smiles. But Stan can't bring himself to. They're closer than ever, mere inches where he could smell the nicotine gum off his shallow breaths.
Perhaps it had been that long since they last talked. He hadn't seen Craig all week; he wasn't selling cigarettes anymore and he guesses, is trying to quit smoking. But he missed the taste. Maybe it has something to do with the brand and flavor or special manufacturing. Or Craig being the one selling.
"-One!"
He leans closer, not knowing he was capable of doing so. Being this close to the other made him freeze. But Craig is the one to close the gap, connecting their lips in a swift, instant motion, knocking over the bundles of grapes between the two in the process.
The sounds outside suddenly become audibly clear for Stan. He could hear every loud bang and explosion of the fireworks along with the cheering and sounds of car honks and trumpets.
Back in his own littel world, Craig's lips are dry and soft. Mechanics that reel Stan into wanting more. Craig's gentle with him, slow, and patient. He could taste the sour notes of the grapes and nicotine. A combination Stan never expected that he'd crave until he got a hold of Craig's intoxicating neck and tongue.
It's fireworks in his own world.
It doesn't bother him in the slightest that he'll never see the fireworks that his bestfriends had excitedly bought and have been talking about all week in action. Through closed eyes, he's already in an euphoric haven. Dark hair, chapped lips, disheveled hair, and blue-gray eyes.
The loud sounds outside continue but none of the two react to them or pull away. Instead, they kiss deeper, more gentle. Stan could feel Craig smiling and it sends the hair on his neck to stand, how Craig is holding him in all the right places. How Craig makes him feel safe.
He's thankful for the stupidity and gullibility of annoying Clyde and his stupid grapes idea.