A Fucking Closet [Creek] (Being Edited)

Chapter 1

This is it.

Just another day.

I get up, go to school, hide behind Clyde the entire day to avoid Tweek, then proceed to listen to Token's speech about how I should stop being childish and just talk to him - but I am childish, and proud of it?

Maybe proud isn't the right word, but whatever.

After school, I drag my ass back home and sulk in front of TV while some shitty program my sister likes runs across the screen. Then after dinner I'll go to bed and sleep away the thoughts and get ready to redo the entire routine again the next day.

That's been my makeshift routine these past three weeks. It feels more like forty, though, and it amazes me that I've survived this far.

It's a really shitty routine, if you haven't noticed, and I doubt it's gonna get better any time soon.

It's my own fault. I'm the one avoiding him, not that he really cares.

It makes no sense! How can one person mess up so much in one day?

ONE DAY!

I lose all my cool for one day and I lose my best friend (/fake boyfriend).

Storytime?

Well...

Three weeks ago, on a dreadful Monday morning, I mean, nothing good happens on Mondays, and if someone tells you otherwise, they are dirty little liars who have probably been paid off by the government to say that and he/she/they should be exiled to their own little islands.

No, they don't deserve their own islands, um, hmm... We could shackle them to the bottom of the ocean, but then again--

Wait, what was I talking about again?

Right, so on this specific Monday morning, I was getting my books out of my locker to get ready for my math class - also, who designs the students' schedules and decides that it's a good idea to put math 1st? And on a Monday?! As if we weren't already miserable enough?

Damn it, Craig, stay on track.

So I was by my locker, getting my books, when Tweek showed up next to me.

×××

"He-hey, Craig," Tweek says, and takes a large sip out of his cup. I wouldn't be surprised if this was his second of the morning, knowing his addiction.

I take the cup from his hands and take a large sip of his very, very bitter coffee.

How does he survive drinking this 24/7? There's a reason people but sugar and milk in there!

I slam my locker shut and return Tweek's thermos. He's shaking a little, probably surprised by the crash of the locker door, but then I throw my arm over his shoulder, he takes a deep breath, and leans into me, already relaxing.

It's become a habit, like holding hands did in middle school. Just something we do to make other people believe we're actually together.

Plus, it calms him down, so it's a win/win.

"Sugar, Tweek," I huff before planting a quick kiss on his cheek. "Use it. It's bad enough that you drink way too much of this stuff, you could at least do yourself a favor and make it taste good."

Tweek smiles, shaking his head as his cheeks start glowing a beautiful shade of red.

"Not my fault you're a pussy who can't ha-handle normal coffee," he laughs and fixes his green jacket, a present from his mom for our 'happy 6 years of being gay!' anniversary.