Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12879975.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      South_Park
  Relationship:
      Craig_Tucker/Tweek_Tweak
  Character:
      Craig_Tucker, Tweek_Tweak, Thomas_Tucker, Laura_Tucker, Tricia_Tucker,
      OFC, Original_South_Park_Character(s)
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Kissing, Anal_Sex, Minor_Character_Death, Passage_of_time,
      underage_sexual_activity_but_nothing_creepy, Natural_relationship
      progression
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-12-01 Words: 10394
****** A Canopy Dotted With Stars ******
by Mareepysheepy
Summary
     A hundred plastic stars bear witness to the shape of Craig’s life.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
It takes a lot of coaxing to convince Tweek to go camping with them. Craig
accepted the task without much complaint but doesn’t enjoy trying to sell the
benefits when he doesn’t really give a shit about camping himself. He tries to
point out to his dad that Tweek really isn’t an outdoorsy type several times,
but his dad dismisses his every protest. He seems unable to believe that a
young boy might not relish in the idea of spending a night on the cold, hard
ground. Craig, on the other hand, is unable to believe how anyone could.
It isn’t until his mom takes him aside to plead with him that Craig really
gives in. His family aren’t particularly touchy-feely. They rarely talk about
feelings, and when they do it’s awkward and stunted and reeks of embarrassment.
They are blunt to the point of being unintentionally hurtful to others
sometimes, but it’s just the way that they are and Craig likes it. Which was
why it is so weird that his mom of all people pulls him aside to talk. Not
order. Talk.
She explains with so much unabashed sincerity that it makes Craig feel
uncomfortable. She speaks with such uncharacteristic softness that Craig
initially suspects that he was about to get some very bad news. Fear pulses
through him in a short, sharp shock as words like ‘cancer’ and ‘grandma’ spring
to mind.
Instead, his mom smiles sadly and reveals to him that his dad hadn’t had the
closest of relationships to his own father. He only has few treasured memories
of him. But sometimes, on special occasions they’d go camping together. At
those times, she tells Craig, Thomas Tucker had never felt so close to his own
dad. It was meaningful for them, and now his dad wants to share that with him.
More than that: his dad wants to share that with Craig and Tweek. It’s an
unabashed act of love. An act of reaching out. To both of them.
Craig weakly argues that it really isn’t something Tweek will enjoy, but his
mother only looks back at him with a look that gives little away. In the end
though she doesn’t even need to threaten him. Instead, Craig feels alien
feelings stir in his chest. Weird feelings that make his heart clench in a
weird way. He thinks about his dad genuinely wanting to spend some time doing
some ritualistic bonding thing with him and Tweek. Quietly, to his own
surprise, he finds himself agreeing.
He doesn’t know if he regrets it yet. Tweek hasn’t calmed down and is perched
on a fallen tree, eyes darting around in search of bears as his dad sets up the
tents alone. Bears have been his primary concern ever since Craig suggested
camping. A google search of the statistics had warmed him a little, but then
they’d had to battle with Tweek’s concerns about malaria from mosquitoes.
Luckily that could be combatted with bug spray (which Tweek has bought four
cans of), but that isn’t much of a defence against a rogue bear.
Thomas Tucker seems blissfully oblivious, or at least is doing a good job of
acting like he is. Craig has never seen him so cheerful, even despite being
left to set up alone. He’s like a dog who’s been let off the lead or something.
It’s odd to say the least, but some part of Craig actually sort of likes seeing
him like it. Some very small part. The rest just sees it as annoying.
It’s takes so long to convince Tweek to leave his safe spot on the fallen tree
that the food is ready. Craig all but drags him over to a spot by the campfire
and pulls him down beside him. He gets a small glare from Tweek in response,
but ignores it in favour of reaching for his food with his free hand. They
haven’t even finished eating when Craig’s dad starts spinning tales of
yesteryear, growing more talkative as he makes his way through his four pack of
beer. He reveals that he used to go camping with Craig’s grandpa. He lists the
animals that he’s seen and the breathtaking sights he’s borne witness to. He
skims over his first hunt, correctly reading Tweek and Craig’s grossed-out
expressions, and even quietly admits that he hadn’t enjoyed it. He tells them
that he’d spent nights alongside the crackling flames with some of the other
dads in town, which neither of the boys had known. Tweek’s interest piques when
he finds out that’s included one Richard Tweak on several occasions.
“You wouldn’t believe how that man reacted to a sunrise once,” Craig’s dad
says. At Tweek’s disbelieving look, he reconsiders and chuckles. “Okay, maybe
you would.”
Before Craig is even aware of it, it’s grown dark. He glances around himself,
surprised at how inky black the world looks beyond the soft glow cast by the
fire.
His dad notices, and he smiles as he gets to his knees to pack away the food
into the cool box.
“Why don’t you boys head over to that clearing? It’s only about thirty feet
away,” he suggests, pointing with one stubby index finger.
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Tweek asks dubiously, nibbling his worries into his
thumbnail.
“I’ll know exactly where you are, and you’ll be together,” Craig’s dad laughs.
“I wouldn’t bring you two here if it wasn’t safe, Tweek. Go.”
Craig sighs, getting to his feet and tugging Tweek up. “Is this a piss spot or
something? Because I already pissed over there.”
“No, son,” his dad replies. “You should get a nice view of the sky though. It’s
nothing like what you’d see in town where the light pollution dims it. Go ahead
and take a look. Just make sure your back is to the fire and don’t look at your
phones. You’ll see more then.”
Craig stares at his dad for a minute. His dad had never expressed even the
faintest recognition that Craig likes the stars. Suddenly he finds himself
wondering if his dad knows him better than he thinks, or whether it’s a
coincidence.
After a moment, Craig moves, pulling Tweek along with their joined hands until
they reach the clearing. It’s a fair size, the trees thinning out enough to
open the sky up. Craig suddenly realises that it’s really not a coincidence at
all and feels a little throb of gratitude towards his father.
It’s not an instant reveal. It’s more like the sky is slowly sharing more and
more with them as their eyes adjust to the darkness. Sparkles dot the sky like
distant fireworks, some almost winking into existence, others so faint they
carry the deep knowledge that they’ve always, always been there just behind
view. Wisps appear, fainter still, but filling the sky.
Tweek’s fingers twitch slightly under his own, but he doesn’t look. Suddenly
the sky is filled with stars and Craig is certain that he’s never seen anything
so breathtaking in his entire life. He’s never felt so unimaginably unimportant
and simultaneously connected to everything like this before. It’s raw and it’s
beautiful and having Tweek silently by his side sharing this, holding his hand
and keeping him grounded on this tiny, little speck of cosmic dust is almost
overwhelming.
For a second he feels so moved that he could almost cry. But then Tweek
squeezes his hand gently -intentionally this time- and it helps Craig take in a
shuddery breath to calm himself.
Clearing his throat, Craig squeezes his hand back. “Want to sit down?” He asks,
still a little breathless.
“Sure,” Tweek says softly. He even makes the first move, tugging him down to
the ground without complaint about bugs or bear traps.
The magic that has fallen on the clearing isn’t broken by their talking. It
splutters much like a flame in the breeze, but settles back over them like a
blanket once they’ve settled, faces upturned.
After a while, Craig begins to point out stars and constellations. He traces
the Summer Triangle for Tweek, helping his eyes to find Cygnus and from there
they follow the band of the Milky Way. Any concerns Craig has about boring
Tweek are quickly dispelled by Tweek’s interested questions. He asks the odd
question about meteor strikes and wandering black holes, but otherwise he seems
to sense the magic too, letting Craig take him on a journey of the cosmos.
Craig falls silent and in the lull, he feels a soft thump on his shoulder.
Slowly he glances down and finds the dimly-lit form of Tweek’s head pressed
there. The stillness and the silence both from and around him tell Craig
without question that Tweek has fallen asleep.
It’s new. Tweek rarely fully lets his guard down, let alone falls asleep so
readily. Craig feels a little thrill at the newness, interested. He isn’t sure
why he does it, but it feels right when he loops an arm around Tweek’s
shoulders and gently draws him nearer.
Craig is questioning a lot of things lately, many of them being his own
feelings and actions. He knows with certainty that this moment is important. He
recognises that it’s meaningful. He’s too young to really understand adult
feelings but he’s starting to recognise that there’s a difference between
liking someone and love. There’s a difference too between love and being in
love. He’s caught himself wondering about it sometimes. He doesn’t often dwell
on it. It’s too complex and too big to be concerned about, and adulthood is
reassuringly far away.
Here though, amidst the forest and the universe, drenched in unspoken magic
Craig realises with a clarity beyond his years that he treasures this boy
nestled against his side. He doesn’t know if it’s love yet, but it’s definitely
something.
Craig loses himself in the moment. In the Everything. He doesn’t know how long
it’s been when his dad finds them, laughing quietly about panicking that he’d
lost them. Tweek doesn’t even stir when Thomas Tucker lifts him to his chest
and carries him back to their tents.
Craig takes a moment to himself as he listens to those retreating footsteps. He
soaks in everything that he can, committing it to memory, knowing that he
doesn’t ever want to forget this moment.
—-
“Thirteen,” Craig’s dad says for the sixth time that day. As if it wasn’t
utterly inevitable with the flow of time being what it is.
“Uhuh,” Craig responds, more interested in checking his phone. Tweek said that
he was on his way half an hour ago and he should be here by now. It sucks
because by sheer fortune his thirteenth birthday has fallen on a Saturday but
Tweek’s lame-ass parents hadn’t given him the time off from work. Apparently
they are supportive of his and Tweek’s relationship, but not enough to spare
their free child labour. The sole saving grace is that Tweek is at least going
to be staying for a sleepover.
“Don’t start being grumpy just because you’ve grown into a teenager,” Craig’s
mom laughs, clearly joking.
“You guys are more excited about this than I am,” Craig mutters.
“Of course we are!” His dad exclaims. “Our boy is growing up.”
“Urgh,” Craig grunts, sickened by all of this fluffy shit.
“Yeah, yeah,” his dad says, rolling his eyes fondly. “I really don’t get why
you didn’t want a party though.”
Craig shrugs. “I got to sleep in, I’ve seen Clyde, Token, and Grandma, and I’ll
see Jimmy tomorrow. Tweek is on his way over, we’re gonna order pizza… I’m
perfectly happy with that. If I’d had a party I’d risk people I don’t want to
spend my birthday with turning up.”
“Oh, Craig,” his mom says with an exasperated roll of her eyes. “As long as
you’re sure that’s what you want.”
“Sure. Because I’m the first person to do what other people want me to,” Craig
says dryly.
“I suppose,” His mom agrees.
Any further conversation is cut off by the doorbell. Craig is on his feet an
instant later, leaving his parents on the couch as he rushes to answer.
Tweek grins a huge, beaming smile the moment that Craig opens the door. He
further surprises Craig by throwing his arms around him in a rough, tight hug.
“Happy birthday!” He shouts, squeezing him and releasing him.
Craig blinks, a little bit stunned when he steps back, but he can feel that his
cheeks are tinged pink with pleasure.
“Hey. Come in, it’s cold,” Craig greets, stepping aside to grant entry.
Tweek hops inside, clutching his rucksack on one shoulder. He waves and chimes
a hello to the rest of the Tucker family.
“Evening, Tweek,” Craig’s mom favours him with a wide smile. Craig is pretty
sure that she likes him more than she does her own son. It used to be annoying,
but Craig doesn’t mind so much these days. He sort of gets why she does.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Tweek gushes, looking genuinely upset over it. “Today
was the first day of the new special and my dad really needed my help. Not that
there was much of a rush…”
“Don’t worry about it, son,” Craig’s dad says with a smile. “None of us are
starving to death.”
“Oh!” Tweek jolts on the spot like he’s been given a sharp electric shock.
Everyone is used enough to it to not really respond, watching with interest
instead as Tweek drops to one knee and begins delving into his rucksack.
He comes back up a moment later with a card and two, small gifts, one box-like
and the other flat as a sheet of paper. Craig smiles a little smile of
gratitude as he accepts them, sitting back on the sofa with them in his lap.
Tweek fidgets on the spot, blushing a little. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” Craig replies. His family are as intrigued as he is, drawing
closer to peer at the gifts as if they’re their own.
The card comes first. Craig slips his thumb beneath the opening and slides it
open, pulling out the card inside. It’s surprisingly cute: two guinea pigs in
hats with the words “HAPPY BIRTHDAY BOYFRIEND” on it. Last year Tweek had got
him an awful monstrosity with a blue bear on it, and the year before that he’d
simply given him one with “11” on it. He’s definitely improving in his card
choices, and Craig tells him as much.
His mom coos over how cute the card is as she gets to her feet to put it with
the rest on the sideboard. She somehow guesses that Craig wants it to sit front
and centre, even though he wouldn’t voice such a thing aloud.
Satisfied, Craig returns his attention to his gifts. He goes for the box first,
tearing the wrapping paper off and tossing it onto the coffee table. He smiles
when he sees that it’s a phone case. He opens the box and reaches in to pull
the silicon case out.
“Nice,” Craig smiles when he turns it over to see that it’s decorated with a
red S in a white box, and a black WT in a circle. It’s subtle and fun and such
a throwback that Craig finds himself immensely pleased with it.
“You always seem to drop your phone,” Tweek says.
“Yes he does,” Craig’s dad agrees. “And we’re not made of money, are we,
Craig?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Craig rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Tweek. I hadn’t thought of Super
Craig and Wonder Tweek in a while.”
Tweek laughs. “I still have your sweater. I forget why I have it sometimes and
then I remember.”
“We shoulda made our own franchise plan,” Craig smiles back at him, reaching
for his second gift, intrigued by its flatness to say the least. He opens it
more carefully and slides whatever it is out of the wrapping with a soft whsss.
A sheet of glow in the dark stars drop into his palm.
“I know you love stars and stuff,” Tweek jumps in. He’s nervous, flushed and
fidgeting, clearly worrying about this gift. “And I thought about when we went
camping a few months ago and we looked at the sky and you showed me all of
those constellations. So I sort of thought that maybe we could put the
constellations on your ceiling so you could look up at them whenever.”
Craig feels his heart somersault inside his chest. He stares at Tweek for a
long moment, feeling his cheeks burn with uncharacteristic redness. Tweek
twitches twice in response, his nervous expression deepening into worry.
“I love it,” Craig says, surprising himself with how soft his voice comes out.
“I really love it. Thank you, Tweek.” He means it too. Of all the gifts he’s
received today -bigger gifts, more expensive gifts- this is his favourite. This
little pack of stars clutched between his fingers and thumbs. It’s probably the
least expensive of all his gifts, but it’s so meaningful, so romantic that he’s
taken aback, breathless.
He looks over at his mom. She looks back at him, fighting an inner war with
herself. Craig knows that she hates mess; she barely tolerates posters being
put up. But she also loves her son, and she can see that this means something
more to him than she can understand.
“Fine,” she sighs. “You can go and put them up. I’ll order the pizza to come
for seven thirty.”
Craig is on his feet in a heartbeat. He jerks his head towards the stairs.
“Let’s go, Tweek.”
Tweek nods, visibility melting from relief. “Okay, Craig.”
They mount the stairs two at a time with Craig in the lead, and head to Craig’s
bedroom. Craig takes a seat on the floor next to his bed, resting his back
against it as he spills the rest of the sheets onto the carpet.
“What did you want to do?” Tweek asks, perching next to him.
“I want to recreate the sky,” Craig explains. “But I think I’d need several
million more stars and it’d be a pain in the ass. So for simplicity’s sake, I
wanna put up my favourite constellations and just sort of dot stars around.”
Tweek nods, following. “How can I help?”
Craig is silent for moment, counting on his fingers and doing some quick
calculations. Then he reaches for two of the sheets and slides them to one
side. “I need at least these. You can take the others and start sticking them
randomly.”
Tweek nods, collecting his sheets and getting to his feet. Together they climb
onto Craig’s bed and laugh when they realise that Craig is barely tall enough,
and Tweek is just short. Luckily, Craig’s dad is on hand to bring them a step
ladder and they re-commence their operation.
It takes longer than either had been anticipating as more and more stars seem
to appear from the packaging. Craig’s mom comes up twice: once to bring drinks,
and a second time to call them for dinner. They head downstairs to eat,
hurriedly scoffing pizza and talking with the Tuckers, but it’s clear their
minds are left behind in Craig’s room with a hundred sticky stars.
When they return, they find that Craig’s dad has taken the opportunity to set
up the spare mattress next to Craig’s bed, adorning it with fresh bedding ready
for Tweek. They laugh when they see it, knowing through silent agreement that
they won’t be sleeping until this is done.
It’s nearly nine by the time they’re finished. Tweek hands Craig the very last
star and Craig wonders if they should make it a little more ceremonial. He
dismisses the thought a moment later when his hand, acting independently from
his brain, lifts and sticks the star in place.
“I can’t believe we’re done!” Tweek laughs. “Oh man, that took way more effort
than I thought it would.”
“Yeah well, it wouldn’t be the same effect with less of them,” Craig replies.
“Lie down. I’m gonna hit the lights.”
Tweek nods and climbs onto Craig’s bed as Craig moves over towards the light
switch. He shuts the door with a soft click and flicks the switch. The room
plummets into darkness for a moment before Craig’s eyes adjust. He makes his
way back to his bed, guided by the dim streetlights outside window and climbs
up to lie beside Tweek.
“Whoa,” Tweek breathes out as Craig settles.
Craig is inclined to agree once his head hits the pillow, lying on his back
next to Tweek, staring up at the ceiling.
It’s not quite like that night out in the woods. The stars on Craig’s ceiling
don’t have the richness offered by the intricate, natural canvas the sky
offers, and they glow with a steady, soft green rather than the pulsing white
light of real stars. But in spite of this, maybe because of this, the magic
that Craig felt on that night settles back over him like whispy gossamer. The
feeling grows stronger when his head tilts to the side without a conscious
thought and he finds himself gazing upon Tweek.
He’s bathed in the faint, soft, green glow cast by plastic stars, eyes fixed
upwards and mouth curved into a grin. Craig has never thought of Tweek as
beautiful before. At thirteen he’s entertained wandering thoughts about what he
finds attractive, but never beautiful. Here, in this moment though, Craig
thinks he understands. He thinks that this is what beautiful looks like.
Sensing the gaze on him, Tweek’s eyes move to meet Craig’s, his head tilting
slightly to accommodate the motion. In the darkness his eyes look almost black,
highlighted by twinkles the shape of stars. It makes Craig’s mouth go dry. He’s
captivated by this moment, by the hush of breathlessness and the stars
reflected in Tweek’s wide, calm eyes.
He knows instinctively that they’re about to kiss. There’s something heavy and
magnetic in the air. It’s all Craig can think of, like the sum total of his
being was made to kiss Tweek and he needs it more than he’s ever needed
anything in his life. He can’t even berate himself for being sappy. It’s going
to happen and he doesn’t want to stop it.
When their lips meet halfway, Craig already knows that it’s not like their
previous kisses. Their lips press together and slant, warm and slightly wet.
Neither one pulls away and there’s no pretence that this is the same shy,
chaste smudge of lips they’ve had before. They’re still children, but this
feels adult. It feels scary. It feels exhilarating.
Craig parts his lips a fraction and Tweek responds in kind. There’s enough room
to peek his tongue hesitantly into the gap they’ve made together. He almost
startles when he finds Tweek’s tongue doing the same and stops suddenly to
utter a small laugh.
“What?” Tweek asks, breathless. There’s the faintest alarm marring his
features.
Craig shakes his head in answer, not entirely sure but feeling seized by a
sickening happiness that he would never dare speak aloud. He reaches out to
grip Tweek’s shoulder and leans back in, reconnecting their lips.
Both of them open their mouths to it at first contact, tongues coming out to
meet one another. Together they learn how to move, cautious and curious until
it starts feeling more natural and requires less conscious thought. Distantly
Craig notes that Tweek isn’t shaking, but the thought is swiftly dominated by
fond amusement over the fact that he tastes like pizza.
After several minutes, Craig draws back. He has no idea when his eyes closed,
or when one of his hands ended up on Tweek’s waist. His lips tingle pleasantly
and his chin is slightly wet from where Tweek’s lips slipped at some point.
When Tweek meets his gaze again something feels different. He doesn’t know how,
but things have changed. They’re too young to dwell on it for long, or try to
decipher the deeper meaning, but Craig feels like he’s had a taste of things to
come. Beneath the starry scene that both he and Tweek created together, Craig
feels excited about turning thirteen for the first time.
—
“You’re over-reacting, Tweek,” Craig says with a little more heat than usual.
He’s losing his patience. A traitorous thought bubbles up that maybe he feels
guilty, but he quashes it angrily.
“I’m over-reacting? You said she had a nice pair of tits and a great ass! In
front of me and our friends,” Tweek yells, getting progressively louder.
“So what?”
“So what? So what? I’m your boyfriend!” Tweek snaps.
“Yeah, don’t I know it,” Craig bites back, sarcastic.
“Excuse me?” Tweek snarls. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on,” Craig sighs, wiping a hand over his face. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I really don’t,” Tweek says.
“Dude, we got labelled as gay at the age of ten. I’m just saying that at the
age of fourteen do we really want to sign the rest of our lives off?”
“Now I’m ‘signing your life off’?” Tweek snaps.
“Dude, that’s not what I’m saying! Listen to me for once! I’m just saying that
most guys our age wouldn’t have been in a gay relationship for four years.
They’d be experimenting and dating around.”
Tweek is quiet for a moment. “Is that what you want?”
“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that we shouldn’t write it off.”
“Shouldn’t write it off,” Tweek scoffs. “And I suppose you humping me like a
fucking dog the other day has nothing to do with this,” He sneers.
Craig feels his cheeks heat up in simultaneous bouts of embarrassment and
anger. He remembers the thrill of seeing Tweek pressed down beneath him,
panting as his hips had lifted to roughly collide with his own. He remembers
how terrifying and fucking good it had felt to feel the bulge of his dick
pressed to his own. He feels his body responding to the mere memory alone.
“Fuck you,” He says instead. “It has nothing to do with that. I’m just saying
that there’s nothing wrong with questioning things sometimes.”
“Sure,” Tweek says. His voice is tight, simmering with fury and something else.
Craig thinks that it’s hurt. He doesn’t want to think about that. “It just so
happens that you got off with a guy and now suddenly you’re all about the tits.
Okay.”
“Whatever, man. You’re seriously telling me that you’ve not thought about it?”
Craig frowns.
“No, Craig. I haven’t. Maybe because I thought we were fucking happy!” He bites
back.
“Oh yeah. We’re fucking delirious. I can’t even have a sensible conversation
with you without you losing your shit,” Craig says. Part of him is screaming at
himself to stop antagonising Tweek, honestly having no idea why he’s doing
this. Another, louder part is egging him on, urging him on, baiting him like a
schoolyard bully.
“Fuck you!” Tweek shrieks. “Sensible? You’re acting like some fucking dude bro
asshole suddenly and I’m the one who’s not being sensible?”
“I’m not a dude bro for questioning things!” Craig spits.
“Do you even know how fake you sound going on about tits? You’ve been telling
everyone for years you’re gay, and suddenly you’re interested in tits?”
“Well maybe I don’t want to be gay anymore! Maybe I’ve just been doing what
everyone expects of me!”
Tweek is silent for a long time. Craig swallows and checks his phone to see if
he’s hung up. He hasn’t, a picture of his smiling face still decorates his
screen and it makes Craig’s heart squeeze uncomfortably. “Craig… did someone
say something?” He says eventually. It sounds like a plea. He’s trying to make
sense of this.
“No,” Craig frowns. No one has and if they do, Craig doesn’t care. “No one’s
said anything, okay? I just don’t know if it’s okay to be put together before
we really made our minds up. I mean, are we gay because we’re gay, or are we
gay because we were told we were?”
“Why does it matter so much to you?” Tweek asks, sounding more desperate than
before. “Just because it wasn’t conventional doesn’t mean that it hasn’t been
real. Unless you wanna tell me now that everything has been one big joke to
you?”
“Fuck you, dude!” Craig replies. “It’s not been not real! But you’ve got to
question things at some point! When I was ten I barely even knew what gay was.
Things are different now. We’re growing up!”
“Okay, dude. You want go and swim in pussy, be my guest!” Tweek sounds angry
again. Angry and upset.
“I’m not saying that that’s what I want, Tweek! I’m just saying...” Craig
doesn’t really know what he’s saying. He wants space, but he doesn’t. He wants
to explore if he could like girls, but not without Tweek. He wants to not enjoy
the feeling of another boy’s dick pressed against his own as much as he does,
because that cements everything. It confirms what he already suspects: what his
mother suspected back when he was nine and the mayor called him out on when he
was ten. It confirms what he was supposed to discover on his own, not be
dictated to him. And Craig hates being dictated to.
“No, I mean it. You don’t want your faggy boyfriend hanging around chasing all
the chicks off do you?” Tweek carries on, voice dripping with venom.
“Stop being so damned emotional,” Craig barks, feeling very emotional himself.
“No one is calling you faggy.”
“I’ll make it easy for you: we’re done. There you go, you’re free. Go fuck
yourself.”
The phone clicks and Craig finds himself staring at the screen of his own
phone, seeing the last traces of his call to Tweek fade away. Four years of
growing together torn down in six minutes and forty-three seconds.
His phone clatters as he hurls it across his room, snarling. The little fucker.
If he didn’t get so Goddamn emotional over stupid shit then Craig wouldn’t say
stupid things to make everything worse!
Furiously, Craig averts his gaze to the ceiling, staring spitefully at the
stars scattered there. They’re testament to Tweek’s presence in his life.
Without thinking, he springs to his feet, hands poised to rip and tear at the
shitty, little things.
He hates Tweek in that moment. Hates him. Hates how he’s embedded himself into
Craig’s life as this crucial, indispensable piece.
The feeling is gone almost as quickly as it hits him, the irrational fit of
rage draining away and leaving him cold and empty in its wake. His hands drop
to his sides, shock setting in. He can barely breathe; it’s like the air has
been punched out of him.
That’s it. He’s got what he wanted, hasn’t he? The freedom to force himself to
be something he’s not for the sake of saying he has. Now he can pursue all of
the girls that he’s not even remotely attracted to. And he can watch as any
remotely sensible gay or bisexual guy at school sweeps in to take Tweek for
himself because they’d be crazy not to. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Tweek granted him freedom alright: the freedom to fuck up more than he’s ever
fucked up in his entire life.
The stupid stars on his ceiling watch over him with an accusatory presence.
Craig can’t handle it, draping an arm over his eyes to block them out.
—
“I dunno, man. He looked pissed to me!”
Craig can’t help laughing, picturing how annoyed this Louis guy must have
looked after Tweek blew him out of the water. “Not your problem, honey,” he
says after his laugh has tapered off into a chuckle. “He shouldn’t have come in
with his act-or shit. He’s fifteen, not some Broadway star.”
“Urgh. I think he thought he was West End with that shitty attempt at an
English accent,” Tweek complains. “Oh my, gov’nor, I learnt my accent from Dick
Van Dyke, I did,” he mocks, doing an intentionally bad accent.
Craig chuckles, eyes trained on the stars scattered across the ceiling. He
can’t remember when it grew so dark. It had been a warm, dusky light when Tweek
had phoned to tell him how the auditions for the school play had gone. Craig
hasn’t even noticed the time ticking by, but then again, he rarely does when
he’s talking to Tweek.
“I’m sorry I missed it,” Craig says, not for the first time that call.
“It’s okay,” Tweek replies. Craig can tell that he’s smiling. Pictures it.
Finds himself smiling goofily in response, glad that no one can see him. “How
did football go?”
“Okay,” Craig replies, yawning. “Not worth missing your audition for though. I
wish you’d recorded it.”
“Craig, you seriously do not love me enough to want to watch a recording of me
auditioning for a shitty school play,” Tweek laughs in response.
Craig honestly doesn’t get why Tweek is so disparaging about his own acting. As
far as Craig is concerned, he has a gift. He might be the doting boyfriend, but
even he knows genuinely good acting from the plain hammy. Tweek seems to
channel something, God only knows how else Craig can describe it. He doesn’t
stutter, or tremble, or tug his hair. Instead he seems to come to life on the
stage, assuming roles and shrugging the life of others on as if they were worn,
old coats. Craig has wondered before whether Tweek is more comfortable in the
skin of others than he is in his own.
“I do,” Craig insists, scratching idly at his chest. “I like seeing you kick
other people’s asses.”
“I could totally beat down this Louis guy,” Tweek laughs in response. “I bet
he’s never even hit anyone.”
“Definitely record that,” Craig agrees. It’s been a couple of years since he
last saw Tweek throw a punch, but he has to admit that the thought of it gets
his blood pumping. “Anyway,” Craig says, drawing himself away from that line of
thought, lest he end up getting horny. “Tell me more about the role.”
“Oh,” Tweek says. “I’m one of the leads, some Mormon missionary or something.
It looks like it’s pretty funny. I’ll have to sing though.”
“Good. I keep telling you that you’re a nice singer,” Craig replies.
“I’m okay,” Tweek relents. “But I’m not about to win America’s got Talent or
anything.”
“You don’t need it, babe. You’ll get scouted and become a world-renown actor.
And then you can keep me in luxury as your trophy boyfriend. I’ll even let you
do cocaine and have affairs if you’re discreet.”
“Fuck off. You’d beat the shit out of me and anyone I was sleeping with,” Tweek
laughs.
“You’re supposed to say that you’d never have an affair and that I am more than
enough for you,” Craig replies.
“Am I?” Tweek hums.
“Fuck you,” Craig says. It carries no heat. Instead he’s smiling to himself,
amused eyes trained on the stars over his bed. “I don’t want to live in
Hollywood though.”
“Nah,” Tweek agrees. “Too hot. Too fake.”
“Not New York either. Too noisy.”
“Where then? South Park?”
Craig groans at that. “Fuck no. I want out of this psychotic hick town.
Somewhere where Mecha Streisand isn’t a thing.”
Tweek laughs at that. “I can get behind that.”
Craig smiles to himself at the sound of his chiming laughter. “You sound good,
babe. Relaxed.”
Tweek sighs on the other end. “Yeah. I was stressed earlier. You could probably
tell from my messages, huh?” Craig hums in agreement. “I almost didn’t do it,
but I thought about what we talked about and thought fuck it. I honestly didn’t
expect to get a lead part. I kept thinking I’d forget the lines.”
“And did you?” Craig asks.
“No,” Tweek admits. “Once I got started it all kind of flowed.” He’s silent for
a moment before adding: “I can’t see me going into a career in this, if I’m
honest. I kind of enjoy it and it’s something that seems to come naturally to
me and it’s great for extra credit but…”
“It’s just not your destiny?” Craig suggests.
“Nope. Not my destiny. You’ll have to postpone your dreams.”
“Damn,” Craig says, deadpan. “Piss on my parade why don’t you?”
It’s Tweek’s turn to yawn. “Sorry,” He says insincerely. “You’ll have to get
off your ass and work. I want to be the one who gets to stay at home. I’ll pay
you in cupcakes.”
“Just cupcakes?” Craig says. His voice comes out as flat as ever but he and
Tweek both know that he’s being flirtatious. He kicks himself as soon as he
says it, hoping that his stupid fifteen year-old boy hormones don’t make him
come across as creepy.
To Tweek’s credit, he’s only silent for a beat. He utters a surprised, little
‘oh Jesus’, but forges on a moment later. “Fine. I’ll learn how to make
croissants,” he jokes. “But I’m sure I can pay in uh, other ways too.”
Despite the stressy, little tic, Craig is reminded once again that Tweek is
just as much as a hormone-driven fifteen year-old boy he is. The thought makes
him go hot, like a molten wave has oozed through him from head to toe.
He clears his throat.
“So when do rehearsals start?” Craig says, changing the subject.
“Huh? Oh, in two weeks,” Tweek answers. “I’m gonna be busy after school for a
while.”
“Your parents can suck it. They’ve had more than enough child slave labour from
you,” Craig snorts when he detects the apologetic note in Tweek’s voice.
“Yeah, they can. But I meant more for you. Aren’t you going to be pining for
me?”
Craig can hear the smile in Tweek’s voice and he can’t help smiling in return,
idly playing with the string on his hat. “Why would I be pining for you? I see
enough of you as it is.”
“You asshole.”
Craig laughs at that. “Seriously though, if it’s okay I’d like to hang out and
watch sometimes.”
“Craig, you hate plays,” Tweek says, fond. “I really don’t mind. We can still
hang out and stuff, so don’t worry about it.”
“I hate plays, but I don’t mind watching you,” Craig corrects him. “I mean I
won’t turn up if you don’t want me there, but I’m happy coming along
otherwise.”
“Really?” Tweek replies, sounding a little awed. He coughs, sounding a little
embarrassed with himself, although Craig can only guess that. “Only if you’re
sure then.”
“I don’t do anything I’m not sure about,” Craig reminds him. “Too much of an
effort.”
Tweek hums, answering him with a yawn. It triggers a chain reaction in Craig
and he lets out a jaw-cracking yawn in response.
“You sound tired,” Tweek says. He’s stating the obvious, which is a trait that
Craig hates in anyone but Tweek. From Tweek though, it’s okay because it makes
him feel cared about.
“Hmm,” Craig responds noncommittally. “Advanced physics is kicking my ass. I
feel like my skull’s been drilled into and drained.”
“I wish I was as smart as you,” Tweek says, sounding proud.
“Nah,” Craig shrugs lazily, even though Tweek can’t see it. “My brain is just
really lame and works in stupid ways. I wish that I was more creative. That
shit is beyond comprehension.”
“You can be- well… no. No you really can’t,” Tweek concedes.
“Thank you for being honest with me,” Craig drones. It warms his heart when
Tweek laughs in response. Craig does wish that he could be creative, but he’s
got Tweek for all that. They’re a team and that’s how teams work. Each
constituent part brings something special to the equation and makes a whole. If
it means that Craig will have to have Tweek by his side forever to make up for
his own shortcomings well, that’s fine with him.
Tweek is talking again, Craig thinks distantly. He doesn’t really register the
words. He focuses instead on the shape of them, imagining them to be waves of
the ocean as Tweek’s voice rises and falls through his chatter. He lets that
voice fill his ears and then lets it in deeper still, penetrating the usual
barriers until it fills him.
He feels warm and calm. He hums when he recognises a lull and trains his eyes
on the stars, watching dozily as their glow blurs and spreads as his eyes grow
unfocused. Tweek’s voice still floats around him, sinking into him. From very
far away Craig realises without any shock or surprise that this is what falling
asleep to the sound of the boy you’re in love with feels like.
He thinks he’ll remember that when he wakes up. He hopes he does because the
thought makes him feel exquisitely happy.
—-
Too hot. Everything is too hot.
He pushes the blanket down, welcoming cool air on his damp skin. Tweek makes a
soft noise of complaint, murmuring as he reaches for the sheet.
“Sorry,” Craig says. His voice comes out strange and gruff.
“S’okay,” Tweek whispers back, barely audible.
Craig swallows and nods, unable to do much more than that. Even basic tasks are
proving maddeningly difficult, thoughts feeling slippery like eels slithering
through his fingers.
“You can move a bit more,” Tweek says after an eon passes. His words come out
wobbly and soft. Barely there, like the tiniest hint of a breeze on a scorching
hot day.
“Okay,” Craig replies. It tapers into a grunt as he shifts, pressing his hips
forward as the blunt head of his dick digs deeper inside Tweek.
Tweek draws in a sharp breath like a hiss. His lips are parted, teeth grit as
he drags in air, brow furrowed. Craig stares at the creases on his brow,
lowering his concerned gaze to meet Tweek’s eyes.
“I’m okay,” Tweek breathes. He twitches and it’s all Craig can do to hold still
because it makes him throb around his cock. “Doesn’t hurt just… just weird.”
Craig’s read about that before. He’s made sure to do his research. Had to make
sure their first time was perfect. He knows that it can feel uncomfortable and
weird and that Tweek may not even enjoy it. He might choose not to do it again.
Selfishly he hopes that Tweek doesn't hate it because Craig feels like he’s
going to implode just from working the first inch and a half in. It’s nothing
like a fist or a mouth. It’s snug and meltingly hot and he feels so connected
to Tweek that he swears he can feel his racing heartbeat from inside him.
Slow. Slow. He repeats in a mantra. Slow. Slow. He pauses, reaching for the
lube, adding more to himself over the condom. He eases free a fraction. Adds
more.
“Nghh,” Tweek grunts. It’s softer than his usual tic. “Craig?”
“Yeah?” Craig whispers back, trying to chase the strain out of his voice.
“Could- can you kiss me? Please?” Tweek asks.
Within an instant, Craig is lying back atop him, cupping his cheek tenderly
with his index and middle finger. He brushes his lips over Tweek’s, gentle
where the firm rod of his dick can’t be. Tweek opens his mouth to it, seeking
Craig’s tongue out with his own. Craig answers him with languid motions,
stroking and caressing and worshiping. It makes Tweek relax imperceptibly and
Craig takes the chance to resume his achingly slow press into him.
It takes nearly twenty minutes and several top-ups of lube for Craig’s pubic
bone to finally meet the pillowy curve of Tweek’s asscheeks. He lets out a
breath once he does, a great gushing sigh of relief. He’s damp with sweat and
trembling from exertion.
“How’re you holding up?” He asks, panting quietly.
Tweek nods, drawing his gaze from the ceiling to meet Craig’s eyes. “Okay,” He
says, cheeks stained dark in the dim light. “I’m okay. You feel enormous
though,” he complains, sending Craig a weak smile.
“I bet,” Craig replies sympathetically. “I’m sorry it’s uncomfortable.”
Tweek shakes his head. “It’s not like I didn’t expect it.” He pauses to take a
few, deep breaths. He shifts slightly and winces when it makes Craig move
inside him a fraction. “How’s… I mean. Is it okay for you?”
Craig bows his head at the movement and has to think unsexy thoughts with
serious haste to prevent himself from finishing from that alone. “Uhuh,” He
grunts, strained. “Definitely okay. More. Better than okay I mean.”
“Good,” Tweek breathes. He sounds so relieved that Craig feels his heart ache.
Jesus Christ, he loves this boy so much.
It’s too embarrassing to gush aloud, so Craig leans back in, kissing Tweek slow
and deep. Tweek moans in response and lifts his hands, sliding them over
Craig’s back. One hand travels up to Craig’s neck and into his hair, fingers
weaving between strands and gripping lightly. The other travels over his
shoulder blade to ghost over his spine. It makes Craig shiver, his cock jumping
at the featherlight touch.
“Ah-” Tweek gasps softly.
“Sorry,” Craig replies, feeling dizzy.
Tweek responds by tightening his grip on Craig’s hair, using it to pull Craig’s
face close to his own. He lets his tongue slip free of his mouth, flicking it
against Craig’s lips. “It’s okay,” He says with a heavy-eyed expression. “You
can move, Craig. Just- just go slow.”
Craig nods dumbly. He cants his hips, grinding inside him rather than
thrusting. Tweek gasps when he repeats the motion, his entire body spasming in
response. The twitch makes Craig groan helplessly, his dick swelling in
response to the shudder that runs through him. There’s too much co-ordination
required to kiss so instead he drops his head, pressing his temple to Tweek’s
cheekbone, panting into his ear. He’s barely even moving but it feels like he’s
run a marathon. His heart is jackhammering inside his chest and his lungs can’t
suck in enough air.
Instinct doesn’t take long to kick in. His hips move of their own volition,
rolling like gentle waves in small, shallow thrusts. A selfish, brutish part of
himself wants to cut him free from restraint and fuck with wild abandon, but he
has enough sense of mind to respect Tweek’s wishes (slow. Slow.) This has to be
special for Tweek. He needs to show his gratitude for the mind-blowing gift of
trust that’s been bestowed on him. Tweek’s allowed him into his own body. Craig
is damned fucking well going to treasure that.
Tweek seems to sense the tenderness behind his actions. He doesn’t bait Craig,
or mock him for being a sap. Instead he grips him tighter with his thighs, the
heel of one foot pressing into Craig’s spine. He makes a guttural sound from
deep within his chest and it’s enough to signal the beginning of the end.
It’s too soon for Tweek to be screaming in ecstasy. The experience is too new
and too weird. But the knowledge that Tweek felt something, had a taste of what
could be excites Craig so much that he can’t stop the rush that follows. It’s
too late to stop it. The shock of the sound from Tweek triggers his orgasm and
before he can reel it back in, Craig’s cock is swelling and spluttering inside
him.
Tweek grunts quietly in response, holding him tightly as Craig’s hips twitch in
small jerks, riding his orgasm out. Craig sighs when he’s finished, bone-weary
and utterly content. Dully, he finds himself surprised at the fact that it is
Tweek who is soothing him with soft strokes to his skin as he calms down.
“Can you pull out?” Tweek asks in a soft voice once Craig has descended back to
Earth, discomfort creeping back in.
“Yeah, sorry,” Craig rasps. He sits up, holding Tweek by the hip as he
carefully eases free. He catches sight of Tweek’s grimace and tries not to
think of how weird it must feel. Not sure how else to respond, Craig presses a
soft kiss to his mouth and is pleased when Tweek needily replies by wrapping
his arms around his neck and pulling him into a deeper kiss for a few, long
minutes until Tweek shivers from the cold.
Craig pulls back from the kiss and silently sets to work, focusing on pulling
the condom off and tying it before reaching for tissues to try to clean Tweek
up.
“Craig,” Tweek murmurs. Craig pauses, looking back at his face. “I’m okay,” He
says, sending Craig a small smile. “Come and hold me.”
“That’s gay,” Craig jokes lightly, moving back to lie beside Tweek, reaching
out and drawing him into his arms. He kicks the blanket back up with his foot
as the chill returns to the night air.
“Hmm,” Tweek replies, nuzzling Craig’s throat lazily. “I think the whole sex
thing is definitely more gay than this.”
“You’re probably right,” Craig answers, his voice finally starting to sound
normal again.
“That wasn’t so bad. By the end, it started to feel kind of good,” Tweek says.
“Good,” Craig replies. “Next time I’ll try to do more. Or you can try doing me.
If you want there to be a next time, I mean.”
Tweek angles his head to kiss his chin. “I want there to be a next time,” he
says, soft.
Craig nods. “Good. That’s… Yeah. Good.”
They fall into a comfortable silence. The air is heavy with feelings and the
room smells of sex. Craig rolls over, keeping Tweek pressed to his chest. He
finds his eyes drawn to the ceiling and realises for the first time that Tweek
had been staring up at the stars.
“Hey, Tweek?” He says, half expecting Tweek to be dozing.
“Yeah?” He responds.
Craig doesn’t look away from the stars as he says: “I love you.”
Tweek nuzzles his collar. “You sap. I love you too.”
—
Tweek sighs, his hot breath blowing over Craig’s collar. Craig silently draws
him closer, rolling his head to kiss his brow.
Neither of them look around the almost empty room. Craig’s parents have loaded
the car up and are waiting for Craig downstairs. They’ve agreed to give Craig
some space, silently understanding his need to spend these last few moments
with Tweek.
His mind can’t settle on what to say. They’ve spent the better part of the last
three months discussing this in detail. They’ve got FaceTime and texts. Craig
will be home every holiday, and Tweek will visit most weekends. Rationally,
this isn’t a big deal. He’s only going to Boulder. He made the decision when
New Mexico and Utah had proved to be unworkable for weekend visits, so this
isn’t a big deal. Everything is going to be fine.
He draws Tweek closer to himself and shivers. For one of the few times in his
life, rationality is failing him. Boulder feels like it’s a million miles away
because it’s not South Park and Tweek won’t be a ten minute stroll from his
front door. He won’t be there during break times, sharing his yoghurt, or
sneaking the odd puff on a joint behind the bleachers. He won’t come into
Craig’s room at early hours of the morning and flop beside him when he’s tired
of his own thoughts.
Their world is expanding and time marches on with little care for the mote of
dust that is human existence. Across the country, millions of young people
walking the fine line between childhood and adulthood are saying goodbye to
their childhood loves. Some will forget them in a week, their relationship
abandoned from that first, drunk fuck with an alluring stranger. Some will try
their best, watching with passionless acceptance as the years apart erode away
at their relationship until it fizzles and dies after dragging on for far too
long. Some, a smaller number, will make it work. They’ll create a new life and
experience new experiences. Maybe they’ll even be tempted from time to time.
But for those few, rare people today won’t be the ringing death toll for their
relationship. For those people, they’ll find a way to make sure that the person
by their side today is still by their side in four years’ time.
Craig is a realist, but he’s also confident that he is that rare person.
Because there is no one in the world quite like Tweek.
He soothes his fingers through Tweek’s hair. It needs a cut, but Craig enjoys
twirling the strands between his fingers. He’s going to miss finding stray
blond hairs in between the pages of his books, or attached to his clothes. He
adds a mental note to get Tweek in his new bed as soon as possible. If they
fuck around, great, but Craig is more concerned with getting his hair on his
pillow and his scent on his sheets. He needs that, he realises. He needs the
small reminders that Tweek isn’t very far away.
Sensing his thoughts, Tweek tips his head up and smudges a kiss to his lips.
Craig answers, lazy and close-lipped, simply savouring the sensation.
“How’re you feeling?” Craig asks when they pull apart. His voice sounds loud in
his empty room. Too loud.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Tweek jokes weakly. They both know that Tweek
will be the one who struggles more. Whatever anxiety and sense of loss Craig is
feeling is probably amplified ten-fold for Tweek. And yet throughout it all,
Tweek has been nothing but supportive. He’s never once asked for Craig to stay
close to him. He’s not been selfish. He’s done his best to be supportive, even
being the one to research where the best engineering courses are. He’d shaken
with dread when he’d told Craig about schools on the other side of the country,
but he’d still done it and Craig had loved him for it, even if he had no
intention of even leaving the state.
Boulder isn’t that far away. If either of them need it, they can be at each
other’s sides at the drop of a hat. It’s a change, and it’s going to be harder,
but they can absolutely make it work because they both need it to.
Craig kisses Tweek again, scratching his blunt fingernails lightly against
Tweek’s scalp. It makes him shiver slightly and for a moment, Craig thinks that
he’s growing aroused until he catches the slight hitch of breath. Pulling back,
he cups Tweek’s cheek instead and pulls him into a tight hug.
“I’m okay,” Tweek says against Craig’s neck in a wobbly, muffled voice. “I’m
not gonna cry like some pussy.”
Craig smiles to himself, but his eyes train upon the stars scattered across his
ceiling, simple plastic shapes in the late afternoon light. He realises that
this is the last time he’ll lie here with Tweek under this man-made canopy of
stars. The thought hits him with such a strong sense of finality that his eyes
suddenly burn. Sure they’ll have holidays and visits but somehow Craig knows
that there’s something very final about being here in this moment.
“You might not be the one who ends up crying, honey,” Craig says. He tries to
make it come out light-hearted, but the rawness in his voice undermines him.
Tweek doesn’t lift his head to study him. Instead he grips on tighter to Craig.
Grips on like his life depends on it. Craig is grateful. He feels like if they
locked eyes, he really would cry and that would just he lame.
They lie like that for some time, Craig stares up at the stars on his ceiling.
He feels a warm wetness sink into the neck of his shirt, but he doesn’t comment
on it, stroking Tweek’s back silently instead.
A knock at the door breaks their little bubble apart. Craig’s mom stands in the
open doorway, an understanding, sympathetic look on her face.
“Craig, sweetie. It really is time to go,” she says.
Craig sighs. He’d wanted to be strong enough to leave the room without being
fetched. He realises now that it could never have happened.
Tweek stopped crying some time ago, but still takes a moment when he’s hidden
in Craig’s chest to hurriedly wipe his eyes. Then he sits up on his knees.
“Come on, lazy ass,” he says, climbing to his feet and offering his hand.
Craig takes one last, long look at the stars on his ceiling before rolling to
his feet and slipping his fingers in between Tweek’s.
He allows himself to be led from the room and it isn’t until he’s staring at
the blank ceiling of his new room later that night that he allows himself to
shed a few self-indulgent tears.
—
There’s a crash from downstairs. Craig winces but he doesn’t move from his spot
on the bed.
He’s trying not to think too much, staring at a ceiling where a long time ago
stars had once been dotted, placed by a little boy and his boyfriend. It was a
lifetime ago, but Craig still feels something stir in his heavy chest.
“Hey.” A voice interrupts his thoughts. He glances over at the pretty, young
woman in the doorway. She’s watching him with a gentle concern, hovering
uncertainly at the threshold.
“Hey,” Craig responds. He offers her a weak smile. He doesn’t like looking weak
around her; he never has. Right now though, he simply can’t help himself. He’s
been feeling so much for the last few weeks, months even and he cannot seem to
shut it off. Being back here, back in this house and on this bed has made
things feel sharper.
She hesitates a moment before walking inside. She makes her way to his bed and
climbs over him, pushing him over so that she can curl into his chest. Then she
lies there with him, silent, head pressed over his heart in a way she hasn’t
done in a long time.
“Did I ever tell you about the stars I used to have on my ceiling?” Craig says
slowly, after a while.
“No,” she responds. “Tell me about them?”
Craig smiles. “In some ways, I think it was one of the best gifts I’ve ever
been given.”
She shifts and scoffs. “Fuck you. I thought that was me.”
“You weren’t a gift, you were hard work,” Craig chuckles. He gets a small punch
to the arm for that one.
“You’re an ass,” she complains.
“Yup,” Craig agrees. “You’ve known me long enough now to know that’s my way of
saying ‘I love you’.”
She laughs softly in response. It’s one of Craig’s favourite sounds and does
wonders to ease the ache in his chest.
“So what about the stars?” She prompts after a little while.
“Hm? Oh. I used to have stars all across here,” He sweeps his hand, tracing the
ceiling. “They glowed in the dark. They probably looked crappy, but that wasn’t
the point. They meant a lot to me.” He trails off, drawing her closer and
kissing her hair. She doesn’t comment on him being sappy. She knows that this
is all very difficult for him.
“Thought I’d find you here,” another voice joins them.
Craig looks over to the doorway and finds Tweek regarding them both with a soft
expression.
“Dad was telling me about the stars he had on his ceiling,” their daughter
explains.
Tweek nods, moving to join them. It’s a tight fit; three adults sandwiched on a
single bed, but none of them complain. “Your thirteenth birthday,” Tweek says.
“Jesus. I’d forgot about them.”
“What made you buy him stars, Da’?” Their daughter asks.
“I’m not sure,” Tweek replies. “It was such a long time ago. God, we used to
spend hours just staring up at them, didn’t we, Craig?”
“Hmm,” Craig agrees. “I can’t for the life of me remember when they came down.
My mom hated them.”
“Is that why I used to have them in my room?” Their daughter asks.
“Might be,” Craig says, embarrassed by the sentimentality of it. She knows that
he’s a hopeless soft touch though. She learnt that a very long time ago when
saying “Dad” just the right way got her pretty much anything that she wanted.
Tweek smiles at him over her head and reaches out to take his hand. Craig
squeezes it back. Tweek is his lifeline, as always. Steady and reassuring.
They lie in silence like that for a while, their little family unit drawn
together tight around Craig. He can almost feel them willing their comfort into
him.
“Is Mom okay?” Craig asks after a while, remembering the crashing sound from
earlier.
“Yeah. We dropped a box of cutlery, but Trish was helping her to repackage it
when I came up,” Tweek explains.
They’re helping his mom move the last of the family treasures today. Ever since
his dad had died earlier that year, she’s been struggling to manage the house
on her own. With both children long grown up and moved out, she didn’t see a
point in living in a three-bedroomed house, and the memory of her husband was
too raw. It made Craig feel deeply sad and in a lot of ways feel like he was
saying goodbye to his father all over again, but he understood. There was no
point keeping a house full of memories for the sake of it.
For nearly fifty years though, this house has been witness to the memories and
moments of the Tucker’s lives. Three generations of the Tucker tribe, sharing
birthdays and holidays and lazy days together, embedding their family life into
the walls for until the house finally comes down. On this bed, Craig had spent
key, formative years looking up at a star show arranged together with the most
important person in his life. They’d talked about life, made plans, made love,
fought, been sick, lost patience, lost clothes, laughed, cried and everything
that fell in between. The stars are long gone, but Craig smiles at the thought
that they had played silent witness to his life. He’s grateful, somehow.
He squeezes Tweek’s hand and drops a kiss to his daughter’s hair. The stars may
be long gone, but Craig can’t help but smile at the thought that they’re still
there, just beyond view, silently glowing just for them.
 
End Notes
     I left their ages when consummating their relationship up to the
     reader. In my country it’s 16 but I know that it varies in the US
     from state to state!
     Thanks again to anyone who reads this!
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