The Futures To Far Away (CREEK FIC)

Study letters

It was Friday evening, and Craig's room was filled with the quiet rustle of papers and the soft hum of his lamp. Kyle sat at Craig's desk, a spread of textbooks and notes laid out in front of him, while Craig was on the floor, holding Stripe, his guinea pig, and letting the little guy crawl up his arm. Every now and then, he'd smile a little as Stripe's tiny claws tickled his skin. The study session had been going for about twenty minutes, but it was clear who was actually doing the work.

Kyle took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sound of Stripe scurrying up and down Craig's arm. "Craig," he said sharply, barely glancing up from his notes, "are you even listening to what I'm saying?"

Craig blinked, snapping out of his focus on Stripe. "Uh, yeah. Something about... symbolism in The Great Gatsby, right?"

Kyle's eyes narrowed, clearly unimpressed. "Craig, if you're going to waste my time, just tell me now. You wanted me to help you, but if you're more interested in playing with your guinea pig, then this isn't going to work."

Craig rolled his eyes, reluctantly putting Stripe back in his cage. "Fine, fine. I'm here. I'm focused. Happy?"

Kyle sighed, pushing a textbook in front of him. "Look, if you want any chance of passing, you need to actually try, okay? Just sit down, follow along, and focus for once."

Craig let out a sigh of his own, slumping back against his bed. He was tempted to retort, but deep down, he knew Kyle was right. Tweek's angry face popped into his mind, his words from their last conversation lingering. Craig couldn't afford to mess this up again.

So, for the next hour, he did his best to stay on task. Kyle drilled him on key themes and main characters in The Great Gatsby, explained algebra concepts, and even went over some history dates he'd missed. Stripe occasionally squeaked from his cage, and Craig would glance over with a faint smile, but he kept his eyes mostly on the textbook, trying to absorb as much as he could.

Just as they were wrapping up a section, Craig's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and saw Tweek's name flashing. The smile that had been creeping onto his face quickly disappeared; Tweek had barely spoken to him since he'd told him about his grades. With a tight feeling in his chest, Craig picked up.

"Uh... hey, Tweek," he said cautiously.

"Hey? Hey?" Tweek's voice was sharp, nearly crackling with anger. "Craig, I looked up your grades. Do you even care? Like, are you even trying?"

Craig winced, his heart sinking. He didn't even have time to respond before Tweek continued, his words rapid and panicked.

"We had a plan, Craig! College together, getting an apartment, a future. And you're about to throw it all away because you can't even try? What, do you think I'm just going to... to wait around while you fail out of school?"

"Tweek, I am trying," Craig said, glancing at Kyle, who was watching him with a wary expression. He lowered his voice, his fingers curling around his phone. "Kyle's helping me study right now. I'm— I'm putting in the work."

"Not enough, apparently," Tweek snapped. Craig could practically hear him pacing, the way he always did when he was upset. "Craig, you've been barely passing for months. Do you even realize how close you are to not graduating? I can't... I can't just stand by while you do this to yourself — to us!"

Craig's throat tightened. "Tweek, I'm serious. I know it's bad, okay? But I'm trying to fix it. Just... just give me a chance."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then a bitter laugh. "I've given you a million chances, Craig. I don't know if I can keep doing this. I can't plan a future with someone who doesn't care enough to even make it out of high school."

The words hit Craig like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, a dull ache forming in his chest. "Tweek, please. Don't say that."

But Tweek's voice was distant, resigned. "Maybe we need to take a break, Craig. Figure things out. Because I can't... I can't do this if you won't."

And with that, Tweek hung up, leaving Craig staring at the phone, the quiet beeping ringing in his ears. He sat there, frozen, his hand still clenched around his phone as Kyle watched him, eyebrows raised in concern.

Craig let out a long, shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He could barely process what had just happened. Tweek had been his anchor, the one steady thing he could count on — and now he might be losing that, too.

Kyle cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Are... are you okay?"

Craig forced a nod, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Yeah," he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. "Just... just need to get back to work."

Kyle nodded, clearly sensing it wasn't the time for more questions. He flipped open the book, diving into the next topic, but Craig's mind was somewhere else entirely. All he could think about was Tweek's voice, his words echoing over and over: I can't plan a future with someone who doesn't care enough to even make it out of high school.