𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆

-4-

We stayed close and huddled together for the rest of the night, and I was only slightly paying attention to the speckled sky above us, but when you have to choose between giving your attention to the stars or a boy ranting about his special interests while you rest your head on his shoulder, you very clearly choose the boy.

When we readjust our positioning though, I see how flushed Craig looks, and feel how cold his hands are, so I declare, "Alright, we've had enough of the stars, time to get back in the truck."

He opens his mouth to complain, but when he exhales you can see his breath as a fog in the cold, so he shuts up and follows me as I get out of the truck bed. Craig offers to gather some of the blankets and pillows with me, but I grab his shoulders and steer him to the driver-side door, opening it and beckoning him in.

Before he even speaks I direct, "Nope, no protests from you. You're fucking freezing, dude, don't even bother denying it, so just get the truck started and I can handle everything else." Not wanting to go along with my plan, Craig whines a bit, but he still shuts the door and turns on the heaters.

A few minutes later, I join Craig in the truck, slamming the passenger door behind me and savoring the warmth contained in the truck's cab. Before he starts driving, Craig turns to look at me and asks, "Any requests?"

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion so Craig explains, "Requests for songs, mostly. Although if you wanted to go anywhere but home, now would be the time to say so."

This makes me realize that the night is coming to a close, our little bit of paradise disguised as a first date soon ending. In attempts to keep the night going, starting to regret pointing out how cold the two of us were getting, I rack my brain for somewhere else to go, something else to do, but I glance at the clock and lose hope. It reads 11:45pm, and most places in South Park are small businesses that close early, so there's nothing out there for us. Plus we've got school in the morning anyway, and even though I couldn't care less about getting enough sleep for school--something I struggle to do in the first place thanks to constant arguing from my dickhead parents-- I'm sure that Craig valued his sleep, how else did he maintain his surprisingly high grades?

Reminded of my parents, I also remember how fucking nosy they can be, and I never told them where I was going, or that I was leaving in the first place. Now I really didn't want to go home, my desperation for excuses turning into boldness as I ask Craig, "You think I could go to your house?"

I think I can see Craig's face flush again, but his already rosy face from the cold makes it hard to tell. He ponders for a second before asking, "Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? I wanna stay the night at yours."

The blush on his face gets deeper, and I can feel my own face getting warmer, no fault of the truck's heating system. He responds, "Need a better reason or it's not happening, bud. Sorry to say but we're not fucking on our first date, if that's what you were thinking."

I feign disappointment at his words, but all I can think about is how much I adore Craig's bluntness, and how much I needed an excuse to go with him. Realizing how bad I am at on-the-spot lying though, I scratch that plan and just ramble about my reasons.

"Aw shucks, there goes my plans. Kidding, I'm kidding. In all honesty, I don't want this night to end and I really don't want to go home. I've loved you for so long that like, I dunno, I've only ever imagined going out with you, yet here you are and these, what, 5 hours we've spent together have been the best 5 hours of my life. I really just don't want this to end because I'm so incredibly happy right now and what if something goes wrong after this little honeymoon phase we're in ends or object permanence kicks in and we forget about our feelings once we're apart. Not to mention my house is a hellhole and I'll probably be yelled at or questioned the moment I walk in so what's even the point? Nothing's going to be open this late, so the only other place to go where we can be together would be your house."

By the time I'm done, the stress has gotten to me and I can feel the tears streaming down my face. "Great, on top of all that, I'm a fucking crybaby too," I say as I wipe at my tears.

"Oh darling, come here, it'll be okay." Craig says, so soft I almost don't hear him. He leans across the truck's middle console to pull me in for a hug, squeezing tight as he whispers reassuring words to me and rubs circles on my back.

I felt selfish. Craig wasn't an emotional person, pretty much everyone who knows Craig knows not to talk about emotions with him, it was a general piece of advice I'd been given and that I'd picked up on, so why was I crying to him now? Sure, we're boyfriends, but that's not going to change his whole demeanor, so what the hell am I thinking? But this night has been full of emotion, from both of us, so maybe it's not such an issue and I'm overthinking the whole thing.

Kind of a reflex at this point, I mumble, "I'm sorry," before burying my face deeper into Craig's shoulder, surely soaking his jacket in my tears.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry, my love? You've done nothing wrong," he reassures me, but I have a hard time believing him. When he realizes that I don't plan on saying anything else, Craig grabs my shoulders and pulls us out of the hug, making eye contact as he says, "Explain."

I sigh, darting my eyes around to avoid Craig's intense stare. "It's just that you're not very emotional but here I am fucking crying and making you just like deal with it. It seems messed up or something, I don't really know, I just feel guilty. At this point, don't even worry about it, you can just take me home."

Craig frowns at me before saying, "I promise you, Kenny, there's nothing for you to feel guilty over. I'm not the best when it comes to other people's emotions, sure, but I can try to be helpful, so if there's something you need to get out, then do it. Don't bottle shit up just because you think that I don't want to deal with it, I care about you, man. Okay?" I nod. "Pinky promise?" he asks as he sticks out his left pinky.

I link my pinky with Craig's as I say, "Promise."