Dramatic: ACT I (COMPLETED)(South Park) {Boyxboy}

Chapter 5| Craig

On our way to the locker room, I can't stop myself from laughing. Tweek is the same. He's giggling and snorting. Whenever he snorts, it makes me laugh harder and then he'd wipe his hands down his shirt, and then rub his hands over me leaving yellow handprints.

Thank God that lessons are still on, if anyone else saw me in this state I'd lose my status as 'bad boy', even if it is a stupid status it sounds better then 'the guy who has paint all over him.'

Yeah.

It doesn't have as good of a ring to it.

We enter the locker room, to find it empty. The only thing in here is clothes from the people who are currently doing sport. I feel bad for them. Gym sucks.

Tweek takes off his shirt and squirms. I find that my gaze lingers on his naked torso for a second, but only a second.

"Ew! I-it feels disgusting. Thanks for ruining m-my favourite shirt assface." Tweek complains, dropping his shirt into a sink and turning on the water. It splashes onto the shirt, and some paint soaks into the water turning it a murky yellow.

"'Assface'? Really Tweek? Be more creative." I say back, taking off my hoodie. Thankfully, my shirt underneath is fine. But it's an old Red Racer shirt since I couldn't find another one. Fortunately, it still fits.

"Fuck you." Tweek says back, taking his shirt out of the sink and squeezing it so the water drips out. The paint stain is still there, but it's lighter than before. He places it to one side and runs a hand through his paint coated hair. His green and white clips fall from his hair and clatter into the sink. He curses, and takes them out.

"I never knew you liked Death Note." I attempt conversation as I stand next to him, scrubbing at the orange paint on my jeans with a wet paper towel. Tweek takes off his glasses and placed them under the running tap, gently wiping them with a paper towel.

"I l-love it," he says simply, putting his glasses back on. Once again, the room settles into silence. I continue to scrub at my jeans, dampening the fabric but getting rid of the paint.

"Seriously?" Tweek says when he sees the stain had disappeared. I grab another paper towel from the machine, turning on the cold water tap I place it under and pass it to Tweek.

"Just scrub on your jeans, it should come out." I say simply, motioning to my own jeans which have a clean mark on them. Tweek huffs and scrubs at his own jeans, moving his glasses to the top of his head. They red there, making him look like an over worked, extremely stressed mother who has three kids to feed.

"You look like a housewife with your glasses like that." I voice my thoughts, smirking at him. He glances at me, while still scrubbing at his jeans, and sticks his tongue out. "Wow. How lmature."

"Says the o-one in the red racer shirt." He snaps back, the stain slowly disappearing from a small portion on his pant leg. He moves on to another stain, which is around his thigh area.

"All my other shirts were dirty."

"You d-don't wash your clothes?" He asks

"No. My mum does." Tweek rolls his eyes at me, and I grab my hoodie. I place it against the sink and scrub the back with a paper towel.

Unfortunately, the room once again stills into silence. The only sounds are the sighs of frustration, success or annoyance from Tweek.

Frustration at cleaning the paint off.

Success at the paint disappearing.

Annoyance upon realising there's more work to do.

And yes, there's a difference between a sigh of annoyance and frustration, the author just can't think of words to describe it.

When I realise that scrubbing my hoodie is pointless, Tweek once again starts to speak.

"Can I-I ask you a question?" He asks, and then adds "if you s-say I just did, I will ruin your nose too."

"So you're saying I've got a good nose?" I say back. He scoffs and his cheeks turn red.

"And, f-fuck you. There i-is absolutely n-nothing good about y-you." Tweek snaps, looking up from his jeans, his glasses falling back into place.

"You don't sound too sure about that." I tease, and he turns away from me, dunking his hands into the icy cold water causing it to ripple. He jumps, pulling his hands out and blowing on them.

"J-Jesus! That water's fucking cold!" He curses, and shakes his hands, hoping to get the water off of them.

"Well, you do have the cold tap running continually." I say, leaning past him to turn off the Tao. As I do, I feel my hand brush against his stomach. He squirms. I sigh, and grab a paper towel, thrusting it into his hands. He dries them swiftly, randomly throwing the paper towel in the direction of the bin.

To my complete surprise, it lands perfectly in the bin, as if he had taken this shot countless times before.

"Tweek.." I say, still shocked and surprised.

"I'm n-not inly food at drama you know." He says, shrugging as he picks up his shirt. The yellow stain hasn't disappeared fully, but you can hardly notice it. It's still damp, and he places it onto a radiator.

I pick up my hoodie, holding it with my finger and thumb, and carry it to my gym locker. Shoving it inside, I turn back to Tweek.

"What was the question?" I say to him. He looks confused.

"I'm sure the line from Hamlet is that is the question not 'what was the question.'" Tweek says, crossing his arms.

"No, you nerd." I say, rolling my eyes. "I'm asking you what was the question you wanted to ask me."

"Oh." Tweek says, and he looks slightly disappointed. He actually thought I was trying to quote Hamlet? His disappointed gaze makes my stomach twist, but I ignore it. "I-I was going to ask if Alice's red shoes were a reference t-to the Wizard of Oz."

A feel my lips forming into a smile. "You actually got the reference? Seriously? That's my favourite movie, I can quote it!" I then slap my hands over my mouth as Tweek's eyes widen.

"Your favourite movie is the Wizard of Oz?" Tweek exclaims, his eyes twinkling. I hesitantly nod, and he claps. "You k-know, the next production is going to be the W-Wizard of Oz? I was going to audition for Scarecrow."

I dare at Tweek, seriously.

"You can not tell anyone what I just said." I say, meaning every word. He looks confused.

"Why not?" He asks, adjusting his glasses to gaze at me.

"Swear to me you won't tell anyone." I say again.

Tweek sighs, but smiles.

"Fine."

"Say it. Swear." I say once more, placing my hand on his shoulder.

He brushes my hand off, and speaks.

"I, T-Tweek Tweak, swear to not tell anyone Craig T-Tucker's secret."

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Sorry this update was a little later than the others, but at least you've got it, right?

CYA LATER NERDZ