Pining for a Spaz

The Talk

Kenny makes good on his promise and shows up at my house the next day.
I resign myself to his interrogation willingly, to save us both time, as he said.
"Woooow Craig. You smooth fucker." Kenny says in admiration. I scowl at him, but my mouth twists upwards into a cocky smile despite my efforts.
"I'm thoroughly impressed." Kenny praises.
"Yeah, well, now what, genius." I roll my eyes, though his praise doesn't go unreceived and my heart beats proudly. Kenny scoffs.
"What do you mean now what? He's yours, princess. You got your fantasy, now go lock it down." He says with a wink. I gulp.
"It's... not that easy..." I mutter. He scoffs again.
"Craig, it's as easy as asking one question. Will. You. Go. Out. With. Me?" Kenny enunciates.
"You're the one who told me he busted ass out of there as soon as I went upstairs! Clearly he's not into it." I exclaim in frustration, all of my insecurities bubbling to the surface.
"Yeah... well, maybe it's because he fell in love with you and was embarrassed thinking he was the only one." Kenny muses, playing devil's advocate. I scoff, but my heart pounds hopefully.
Fuck, I seriously hope that's the reason.
Kenny smirks.
"Only one way to find out Craigo~"  he sing-songs. I swallow dryly. He's right. And I'm not looking forward to it.

Monday greets me with overcast skies and freezing fog. My alarm blares me awake, even though I've been half-awake for hours.
I feel like I've swallowed lead.
It weighs heavily in my stomach, cold and poisonous, eating away at my sanity.
Kenny seemed pretty confident that Tweek wasn't about to viciously rip out my heart, but Kenny's an optimist. And Tweek is a pessimist. And then there's me; a realist.
Logically, statistically, my chances of being shot down are much higher than the other alternative. Not to mention the pitifulness of the alternative.
Oh, Tweek, we made out once -drunk as hell- at a party, let's go out now! We're clearly soulmates!
Yeah.
Unlikely as fuck.
I close my locker, hurriedly heading to first period before the late bell rings.
I dodged Tweek this morning by cutting it close, but I am all too fucking aware I can't avoid him forever. Unless... he also wants to avoid me...
The thought makes my heart sink painfully.

"H-hey,,," comes the voice from my dreams. I swallow dryly, closing my locker slowly to return his greeting.
"Hey," I say, as casually as one can when their first instinct is to run screaming into the woods and never return. He glances away, busying himself in his adjacent locker.
"H-how was the r-rest of your weekend..?" He inquires politely. Or maybe he's probing. Inconspicuously trying to gather information about my stance on Bebe's basement.
Where we lay pressed close together, touching and kissing until we passed out. Heat flares in my face, and I suddenly have an urgent need to know what he feels.
"Fine. I had some beers before we drank the whiskey tho, so I was pretty fuckin hungover the next day. What about you?" He twitches involuntarily when I mention the whiskey, but otherwise theres no clues about what he's thinking.
"Haha, yeah... me too," he says vaguely.
"You had some beers before too?" I ask, pressing him for more information, half surprised that he'd also had alcohol before, even though he doesn't drink.
"..y-yeah, I chugged one when Kenny forced to play-" he cuts himself off suddenly, leaning into his locker to hide his flushed face. He suddenly slams his locker, turning to stare into my eyes with fierce determination. I blink in surprise, my stomach flipping upside down as I drink in the adorable expression on his flushed face.
"C-can we talk about it..? Th-the, argh, ki-kissing..?" He blurts out, stage-whispering the word 'kissing' as it was some secret conspiracy. I gulp.
100 points.
Direct hit, Tweek.
I nod, letting out a shaky, semi-awkward laugh. He nods back, inspecting his shoes and chewing his lip nervously.
"N-now? Or..." he wonders weakly.
"Yeah, now, uhh, works..." I reply, shallowing the anxiousness that bubbles up.
We head out back behind the school, sitting on the deserted bleachers.
"Uhm," Tweek tries, but can't find words to continue. That makes two of us.
What if Kenny's right? What if Tweek feels the same and he wants to hear me say it first? I don't think I can do that... because, what if he doesn't..?
"ItwasalotoffunandIdon'twantittobeawkwardnow!" Tweek blurts a stream of incomprehensible words. I blink at him.
"Wha..?" I say stupidly. He fidgets uncomfortably, his flushed face in a deep frown. He swallows, preparing to repeat himself.
"I, h-had fun... and I don't want it t-to be awkward now..." he tells his shoes.
Oh.
That means he didn't fall in love with me.
He lets out an awkward, impatient-sounding noise.
"L-like you said... it doesn't count if you're d-drunk.." he adds nervously. I did say that.
Shit.
Maybe it was a shitty idea to make out with Tweek... this hurts a lot more now.
"...right?" He asks uncertainly, when I continue to remain silent. I internally shake myself out of it.
"Yeah, it doesn't have to be awkward. We can just pretend it never happened." I say, trying to sound encouraging. He looks... somehow defeated.
"M-my therapist says it's not good to do that... so, uhm, s-she said that we should talk about it a-and, uhm, be honest- and come to a mutual understanding... t-that's what makes it not awkward... apparently.." he reasons.
Except, I can't.
I can't be honest.
"Sure," I agree. He lets out a breath, visibly relaxing.
"Ok, uhm, I already went, so it's your turn."
"...I don't know what..." I blank, unsure that he wants me to say.
"D-did you have fun..?" He suggests.
Oh, Tweek. I've never in my life had more fun, than on that night, with you in my arms.
"Yeah," I say, attempting a casual tone. He smiles slightly.
"Okay, good, uhm... d-do you have anything else you wanna add?" He asks, word for word quoting his therapist I bet.
Do I?
Do I want to add something?
Like, maybe how I'm actually wishing we were kissing right now?
"No, I think we're on the same page. It was fun, don't want it to be awkward now. We can resume friendship as normal." I sum up, hoping it's good enough for him and he doesn't dig any deeper. Relief floods through his worried expression, and he lets out a small laugh.
"Oh my god I was so stressed about this conversation all weekend," he admits sheepishly, laughing a breathy sort of laugh.
"I was afraid you wouldn't wanna be around me anymore." He adds.
"Nah, that could never happen." I tell him, trying my damndest not to drop hints of my true feelings. He grins.
"Can we hug? This feels like a hug moment," he says, hugging me before I even get a chance to reply.
I just can't believe he's this happy I want to be around him.
I can't help but fixate on that, and I curse myself for feeding the fire of my unrequited feelings.
Everyone says hope is good, but my hope is what hurts the most.