𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤 / 𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

"tweek won't talk to me. or anyone for that matter. i made them mad with my comments at the beach yesterday." he explains further. obviously he made them mad? he is the people's enemy at this point, if he didn't say something criminally offensive, he said it to someone's best friend. "why exactly did you do all of that?" i ask him honestly. he didn't really have a point to say all that, besides the pure entertainment. it was weird.

"i'm not sure. the words kind of fell out of my mouth." craig says in his signature stoic nature. he plays with the hem of his jacket while we talk. "if you apologize i'm sure they'll forget about it." i tell him. i'm lying. they probably won't forget. he probably doesn't care about half of them though, so i don't see why he is stressing about it now.

"i don't give a shit what they think really, i just want tweek to get over it. everyone else can go fuck themselves, they know how i am." he says with more animosity then before. his harsh tone doesn't feel like anger though, more so just a begging to be understood.

"you're his best friend- and apparently crush. so he'll get over it quickly. you can't just not apologize though, especially if you live with them." talking to craig is fun. he's so unique and unyielding. he's like a puzzle. "yes i can? i could just not live with them too." he responds. he knows he is wrong, he's just defending his point of view out of pure stubbornness. "well would you rather pack all your things back up and move to another house full of people you hate even more, or just mutter a couple 'i'm sorrys' to some people?" i don't see why he won't just say sorry. i mean- i see why. it's craig of course; i just don't understand.

he thinks for a moment before pulling out his phone and quickly typing out a message. "there." he turns his phone to me and shows me what he sent. windcourt manor has a group chat, and seeing as how he offended everyone but jimmy, a group chat is a pretty convenient way to apologize to everyone. "perfect. now, what did tweek do on the day of reckoning?" i ask him, starting a new topic now that we wrapped up his inability to apologize. "the day of reckoning?" he questions, confused about my word choice.

"the party night. cause you know, wendy and clyde cheated on their equally not-so-faithful partners." bebe probably doesn't want her own infidelity out there, but i didn't explicitly say she cheated- and she didn't. she just kept a roster! no shame in the game. men would constantly contact her through just about every social media platform, and she may or may not have entertained a few in their playfully young romantic exchanges.

"oh. we went back to windcourt and i went to the bathroom to get some advil, and tweek followed me. i didn't know till he shut the door behind himself. i offered him one and then he lowered my hand and tried to kiss me. i kind of remember looking at him crazy and leaning away. and then him crying. he tried to make excuses, but weed doesn't make you kiss your best friend." he narrates nonchalantly. he doesn't seem disgusted with tweek, but rather confused. "he's my friend, and he knows i dont like guys anymore." he looks down at the floor and traces a pattern on his pants.

everyone in school knows about what happened when they were kids, and a lot of people avoided craig for it. wether that be girls because they think he is gay, or boys because they think he's a cunt. people kind of avoided him in general though. they dated for a week or two in middle school as well, which didn't help his case. people solidified their idea of him as soon as they saw craig holding hands with tweek. a relationship doomed to end with craig at its fault. tweets fragility automatically painted craig as the bad guy, cold and unfeeling, regardless of how it ended.

"does he still like you? or was he just getting mixed signals?" i question. tweek didn't ever give me any notion he liked craig, but we weren't ever that close. they dated for a couple months in like 4th grade and then again in 7th, but then they mutually broke up before winter break. it was one of the first south park major events i bore witness to.

it was english class and craig, tweek, kevin, and i all sat together for a project. they were bickering over something then craig just abruptly said he wanted to break up. tweek nodded and it was quiet for the first time in that classroom. craig was skewered by the student body. shunned for weeks. as he walked in the hallways people's eyes shone with the glint of a dagger, borrowing into his flesh with hatred.

"i wasn't giving him signals." he clarifies and changes his gaze to look me in the eye, signifying he's serious. "i don't like tweek, and you'll have to ask him if he likes me yourself." he relinquishes his stare and studies my hands instead. i have a small star ring on my right ring finger and a larger blue stone on my left hand. "i doubt you'll get a true answer though." he slightly smiles to himself.

"you're probably right. has he always been so nervous?" i ask him. i spin around the rings on my fingers, conscious of his observation. "pretty much." he looks away.

it's quiet for a couple seconds before i start the conversation again. this happens often with craig. he never speaks more than he really has to. "did you paint the saturn picture?" his brow furrows in confusion but relents once he remembers the art he has taped on his wall. "oh. yeah. me and my sister were painting the solar system." craig isn't nervous. he is confident in himself, but not to the point of narcissism or vanity.

if you ask kyle or clyde if they painted something and they'll either mumble a yes, or deny it completely. they don't want to seem 'feminine' or caught pouring out their feelings. even in simple art, like a planet. "that's sweet." i smile at the idea of them at a table, just quietly painting. i wish i had a younger sister. "yeah?" he makes eye contact with me, but not as intense as last time. kinder.

"yeah. my parents only had one kid so it gets kind of boring at the house." i sometimes imagine how different my life would be with a sibling. i'm sure i would loathe one had i actually had one, but it's nice to imagine the perfect one. craig thinks thoughtfully before he talks, contemplating the correct words to say. well usually. i can think of a recent incident where he did not.

"i get that. my parents got a divorce and i'm old enough to decide who i want to live with, but tricia is not. she's there half the time at my dads, so we hangout a lot at my moms to make up for when she's gone." he seems indifferent towards his parents separation, but he is kind of like that about everything.

"i'm sorry you guys get separated. that must suck." i know he doesn't like his dad. no point in saying 'sorry your parents got divorced' when he isn't himself. "sometimes. its worse for her being passed between houses." he responds, shrugging off his own feelings. "and my dads a dick." he adds. we both smile at his kind-of-sort-of joke. my eyes linger across his face, slightly breaking our consistent eye contact.

his dark eyes aren't out of place in the rest of his dark color palette. dark hair, clothes, persona. his hair is a deep black and relatively long. it rests just over his ears and is swept over his head in a slight middle part to cover them, but still framing his face. wavy strands occasionally fall down into his vision. he looks slightly out of his element on the sunny island beaches of massachusetts, but his hair helps him fit in. it's rather coastal. he isn't a stranger to short sleeves and shorts, but he is usually accompanied by a jacket. in the cold climate of colorado- true summer clothes are a rarity, if at all some years.

he is gorgeous, in a dark and dangerous sort of way. if he had to be any supernatural creature, he would obviously be a vampire. he already looks the part. he could make you bleed dry and you would thank him for it, and those would be your last words. you would spend your last moments begging for him to acknowledge you. but he wouldn't. he doesn't care, and that is part of what makes him so desirable. his cold, unreachable display.

we break the way-too-intimate eye contact at the same time; embarassed of my thoughts i don't fill the silence either.

"thanks for coming over. i don't mind talking to you." he clears his throat then stands up. i follow suit. "you're too sweet." i compliment him, mostly sarcastic.

"don't get too comfortable y/n." he responds, a slight smirk graces his lips which he covers by looking at the floor.

he isn't as prickly as he- and everyone else thinks. he isn't immune to a kind gesture. he doesn't frown all the time. he does actually smile. he is genuine in everything he does caringly, and truly hurt in everything he does maliciously. "i mean it. you're not as stoic as you think." he holds the door open for me to the hallway, and we walk together down it. "oh yeah? and i think i'm stoic?" he switches positions with me so that i'm on his right and have access to a railing.

"obviously." i say while putting on my shoes. he waits near the staircase for me. "whatever." he shrugs and states with a plain expression. "do you want me to walk you home?" he asks me, not expectantly, rather just kindly. friendly.

craig, the kindhearted porcupine. "i think i'm okay, thank you though. and this was fun." i decline his offer. he doesn't need to walk me back really, it's a couple minutes and we are on a private island. "yeah. thanks for coming." he holds the door open for me again, and watches as i leave. i wave goodbye a couple steps down the path before he shuts the door, and he reluctantly does a small one back before closing it.

it's like his heart grew 3 times! or maybe i just got to know him. i think on our exchange the entire way home.