Buried (a Creek fic)

4. Help

The first thing that Craig noticed as they approached the front doors of the Tweek Bros. Coffeehouse was that it was unusually dark and vacant inside. As they got closer, he noticed that a sign was hanging crookedly on the door, reading, Be Back Soon!

"Th-thank God," said Tweek, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. "My par-parents aren't here."

"Where are they?" Craig asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't this place usually open at this time?"

"Y-Yeah. They must be running errands or s-something," Tweek replied. "D-Don't worry. I th-think I have the key."

Craig retracted the arm that had supportively wrapped itself around Tweek's waist to help him walk. Tweek did the same, drawing his own arm back that had been comfortably resting itself around Craig's shoulders for assistance. Tweek leaned against the building, wincing through the pain that he was still visibly in, and he began rummaging through his pockets until he fished out a silver key. After unlocking the door, the two staggered into the coffee shop and Tweek re-locked the door behind them.

"Do you still need help?" Craig asked, noticing Tweek still having trouble walking.

"N-No, I'm fine," he tried to assure him, though Craig was unconvinced.

He followed Tweek through a door marked Employees Only and into the staff bathroom near the back of the shop. He was still noticing the obvious limp that the injured boy had acquired from Cartman's beating. Though he would never admit it, Craig felt sorry for him and he hated that, hoping that the empathy wasn't visible on his face. God, emotions sucked, but they were definitely a fan of him.

"Tweek, sit down," Craig told him gently, watching as Tweek stumbled over to the sink.

"I-I'm fine," he repeated, but his voice's faltering said otherwise.

"Sit," Craig commanded.

With a groan that was probably mixed with protest and from being in pain, Tweek closed the lid on the open toilet and hesitantly took a seat. Craig turned towards the sink and plucked a couple paper towels out of the dispenser above it, wadding them into a ball and wetting them with warm water. Then he turned back to Tweek and handed them to him.

Tweek's nose had stopped bleeding by now, yet dried blood painted itself across parts of his face and on his shirt and gloves. He scrubbed it off and though the blood came off fairly easily, it left the space under his nose, around his mouth, and on his chin a tinted pink.

Craig studied his face, noticing the dark circles under his nervous, twitching eyes. He wondered if the boy ever got any sleep or if he solely relied on his family's own caffeinated beverage to keep him running. Probably the latter. We all have our poison...

He then watched as the blonde slowly lifted up his tattered green shirt in curiosity to reveal that the majority of his stomach was a shade of dark red. Chills ran up Craig's spine. If his stomach looked bad now, he definitely didn't want to know what it would look like the following day, likely nastily bruised. If only I had gotten to him sooner.

"Stay here," Craig ordered, trying to keep the guilty thoughts from taking over his head. "I'll go get you some ice for that."

Before Tweek could reply, Craig was already rushing out of the bathroom and behind the counter of the coffee bar. He surveyed everything that was behind the counter, from various coffee machines to shelves of coffee beans, until he located an ice dispenser in the far corner.

Cursing the shop out for not having a regular freezer, Craig swiped a bag for pastries off of the counter, filled it with ice, and hurriedly made his way back to the bathroom where Tweek was still patiently sitting.