You Make Me Sick [ Staig ]

-8-You Make Me Sick-8-

All of the emotions Craig had gone through these past few days were just now catching up on him; everything was moving too fast and he hated it. He should've just kept his damn mouth shut.
Ever since he woke up that morning all he felt was dread. He didn't want to show up but of course, it was mandatory. He hoped to god that Stan wouldn't show his face today.
But as he sat staring off into space in his first class, his hopes were thrown away as soon as he saw a certain face enter the room.
Prick.
He tightened his hand into a fist, casting his gaze away from where Stan was approaching. He heard him sit in his usual spot; the desk behind him. The classroom was filled with its usual chatter before lessons started, mostly consisting of students complaining how tired they are and how many hours they slept last night.
It was all so dull at this point.
Though, everyone finally shut up as the professor strolled into the class, eyeing the sea of teenagers. The bell rang as the middle-aged fart made his way to his desk, before he scooped up a clipboard. He started taking attendance, and once Craig answered to his name he later heard Stan answer his. It made his skin bristle to even hear his voice again, shifting to place his cheek against his palm.
He hoped to god this class would be quick.

Craig ended up going through a spiral of thoughts throughout a majority of the lecture, resulting in him not paying attention to anything that was assigned. He glanced at the open book of a student nearby, noticing he was on a chapter that gave a depiction of the human anatomy. He didn't really mind biology but god, learning about human bodies was annoying. He already hated them enough.
He made sure to mark the page number once he found it, only to hear the bell soon go off. He quickly stood up and grabbed his shit, before going out the door in a fast pace to avoid letting Stan walk near him.
Though, he couldn't outrun his thoughts about him. He was on his mind all day,- no, he was on his mind ever since it happened. To say the least, he had a newfound hatred for both him and Wendy. That bitch just had to sneer about how much superior she was for winning Stan over.

"Tucker!" A voice snapped him out of his thoughts, pausing in his tracks and glancing over his shoulder as Clyde jogged up to him.
"Hey man, how was class? Was Stan bothering you?" Clyde looked a little defensive when bringing up Stan, as to where he rolled his eyes and looked away.
"If he did you would've seen a bunch of people rushing to the Nurses office."

That of course was an unrealistic statement, as Stan could probably kick his ass just as bad as he could kick his. Only if he wanted to.

He heard Clyde laugh, shaking his head.
"Well, what class do you have now?" He then asked, looking at him with his usual lively auburn gaze. Craig took a moment to think.
"Fitness, pretty sure." He responded, weaving past a group of younger students who were blocking the hallway. Damn kids.
"Oh, lucky. I have Physics." Clyde grumbled, wishing he could've taken that class too.
"Hah." Craig smirked a bit, glancing at the brunette. Clyde always managed to lift his mood most of the time. This earned him a pouty glare, before he glanced off to the side where they were approaching the physics classroom.
"Well, good luck man." Clyde said with a smile, before he turned to walk in through that door, dismissing the conversation. Craig waved a bit, only to look at the lockers, spotting his own. He purposely went the long way so he could refresh his consciousness.

He stuffed his books into his locker, before glancing around the somewhat emptier hallways. He could pick out conversations now, rather than hearing them all mingled together. With that, he walks past some younger students to the men's washroom, figuring he had some time before his class started.

Once he walked inside, he could see that it was empty. Which was pretty rare, but he wasn't complaining. Usually there were smokers and such straying around in between classes but that trend died down once teachers began catching and suspending them. He walked over to the sinks to turn on a tap, before running his hands underneath the cool water so he could splash his face. He seriously hated having Stan on his mind and it was taking everything in him to not blow up when he was nearby. That class beforehand was torture.

There were so many questions he had unanswered. Why would he put on an act just to hurt him? Did he just do it out of spite because of their past rivalries? Was Stan just scared to tell him he didn't actually like him? He didn't know. It felt like something was suffocating him.
Craig placed his hands on each side of the sink, looking at his reflection. He looked tired, and lost. He hated that look. He spent so much time staring at that face every time he came across a mirror, knowing he wasn't always like this.
He should've just suppressed his feelings. It was never going to work out between him and Stan, as much as he hoped it would.
I guess this is my karma.
He thought quietly to himself, before he shifted to turn off the tap. He didn't have enough energy to do a gym class. Maybe he'd just stay here.

Though, he was once again snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the door to the washroom open. He looks up, only to freeze when he sees Stan there with the door held open. He looked just as surprised as he was.
Craig shifted wipe off his face with his shirt, before he went to retreat to one of the stalls while avoiding his gaze. It was a cowardly move, but he really didn't want to risk going near him and having Stan stop him from leaving. He heard the door shut just as he finished locking the stall. He should've just fucking went to class.
But, Stan would leave eventually right? It'd be fine and they won't need to talk at all despite being in an enclosed space together. He was more worried about Wendy anyways.

His self reassurance was all thrown away when he saw Stans shoes stop right outside his stall. He felt his brows furrow.

"Go away." He said firmly, not wanting to be confronted right now. Not so soon.
Stan didn't move. He heard a soft knock on the stall door, which made Craig bristle with anxiousness. Why the fuck was Stan trying to talk to him now?
"I told you to fuck off." He hissed, looking up at the bare surface of the stall door.
"Can you just hear me out?" He heard Stan ask, sounding somewhat defeated already. It made him scowl, knowing that he was probably just tired with dealing with him. He didn't care. Stan just wanted this so he could feel better about himself.

"No." He responded flatly, shifting to lean his shoulder against one of the walls within the stall. Stan was silent for a moment, making him tense up a bit. He hoped to god he would just go the fuck away already, he already had enough of this.
"Are you just gonna give me some fucking silent treatment now?" He narrows his pristine blue eyes at the door, shifting to step forwards and unlock it. He threw the door open, the hair on the back of his neck bristling in both anger and fear.
"I'm so goddamn sick of you, Marsh. You never know when to give up." He hisses, staring at Stans neutral expression. This only encouraged him to continue, his annoyance peaking.

"I wish I never met you that day. I don't love you and I want you to leave me the fuck alone." He spat, feeling his shoulders only tense up more as he blatantly dropped these emotional blows onto him. Stans expression didn't change.
"Stop fucking ignoring me. This is as close to a talk as you're going to get."
The noirettes gaze seemed to change, a deep glint of emotion sparking in his eyes. Craig pauses, staring at his face a moment longer, before looking away.
"Just go away before I hurt you." He muttered under his breath, clenching a fist at his side. He felt arms slowly wrap around him, making him tense up.
"What are you doing?" He breathed out, looking at Stan in surprise. Was this a joke?

"Maybe you're right."