You Don't Mean It ||Staig||

||Part Eight||

TW: Mentions of self harm, Needles, Rape, Unwanted touching, Drugs, Cigarettes, Smoking, Razors, Cursing 

Please do not read if any of this makes you triggered or uncomfortable!

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Craig had skated all night long. Looking in every possible corner and crack where he thought Stan might be hiding. He never found him. It really wasn't healthy for him to lay awake all night but he did it anyways. 

Wendy had told him that her parents had filed the missing persons report right after he stormed off. Craig felt like the police couldn't help. He didn't like cops personally. They never settled right with him. 

Craig stared up at his ceiling. He could see the plastic glowing stars and scribbles that he had drawn with an invisible marker. He could feel his heart beating painfully slow. He had horrible eye bags. 

He just couldn't sleep, knowing that the only person who possibly really cared for him was crying somewhere or floating around and rotting in a lake. Craig pulled his chello hat down over his eyes. He could feel his lip start to quiver. 

His Guinea pig made a few tired squeaks as he sobbed to himself quietly. He couldn't stand this for another second. Craig ripped his hat off and stuffed it awkwardly into his pocket. He scrambled around for his shoes and stumbled over to his window as he slipped his sneakers on. 

He didn't look back once. Craig opened up the shaky window and leaped out of it. He landed against the grass and shut the window once he had straightened himself out. Craig started to jog a little bit. 

He kept his eyes peeled for anything that could slightly resemble Stan. He found nothing as he ran down the street. He just really hoped with all of his heart that Stan was alive and well. And if he was, he'd treat him with the kindness he deserved. 

Craig looked up once he saw the house he was looking for. Stan's car was still there... so he couldn't have run away. And even if he did, Craig thought that Stan would have told him first. 

Craig wandered over to the silver car. He pulled himself up and stood against the car's hood. He peaked inside of the room, through the window. It was empty. Craig pushed the window open and climbed through. 

He took in a deep breath as he looked around. He searched for anything that might give him a clue. All he found was a few sports equipment and the brown box from before. Craig picked it up and wandered over to Stan's empty bed. 

He sat down and slowly opened up the box. He felt his green eyes widening as they laid against the blades. 

Some had dried blood against them and others just looked plain rusty. He furrowed his eyebrows. I didn't know Stan hurt himself... 

What else wasn't he getting or putting together? Craig gingerly closed the box and set it aside. He had searched the entire room, finding nothing important. Craig slowly slipped his shoes off and slid under the blue blanket. 

He clutched the blanket tight. It smelled like him... 

Craig shut his eyes as he felt them watering. He held the blanket close, trying to shut out his thoughts. He could feel a few tears leaking from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks as he clutched against the blanket. 

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The sun wandered up above the clouds. It was Monday. A school day. Craig finally realized that this wasn't a nightmare. He looked around, his green eyes settling against the sheets he was wrapped up in. They were Stan's. 

Craig felt his heart throb a little bit as he wiggled himself out of the sheets. He made up the boy's bed and quickly pulled his shoes on, hoping to escape before his parents found out. Craig let his eyes linger against the room before slipping out in a hurry.