Buried (a Creek fic)

17. Past

The walk to Jimmy's house after school was something Craig wasn't used to. The five of them were cheerfully treading through the snow-coated sidewalks in a group. Butters and Jimmy led the way, followed by Tweek and Craig, and ending with Timmy, who glided behind the rest of them in his wheelchair.

It felt different to Craig, being included in a tight knit group of friends. Though Butters still was avoiding him, he felt apart of something. Timmy, Tweek, and Jimmy were all nice to him, which was still something he didn't expect. He supposed he was just used to people knowing what he did to others, which caused them to avoid him because they were either scared of him or didn't want to get involved with anything.

When they arrived at the Valmer house, Jimmy unlocked the door and ushered everyone inside. The house was cozy looking, Craig noted, with a good sized living room and kitchen on the ground level.

Tweek and Butters took a seat on the sofa as Jimmy scuttled into the kitchen that was connected to the living room. After shoving open the fridge door and pulling out drinks, he glanced back into the room over his shoulder with his eyes fixed on Craig, who was still standing by the front door.

"Hey, Cr-Craig?" he called. "D-Do you mind getting me the scr-script for my com-comedy show? It's upstairs in my r-room and it sh-sh-should be on my d-dresser."

"Yeah, no problem," Craig agreed, sliding off his shoes and walking across the room. He ascended the creaky stairs and entered the first door he came across in the upstairs hallway.

Jimmy's bedroom was about the size of Craig's, except not as cluttered and more impressive looking. He had several different movie and video game posters plastered on his lime green walls and on a bookcase in the corner, Craig noticed that the top shelf was filled with gleaming trophies and medals for comedy awards.

Craig turned to Jimmy's dresser that was located next to his bed and resting on the top was his comedy script. He realized it immediately, glancing over at the notes Jimmy had scrawled all over the page. He collected the papers, but before he retreated out of the room and back down the stairs, he couldn't help but feel a relentless curiosity washing over him.

Maybe Jimmy really is trying to quit his pill addiction, considering he's showing signs of having withdrawals, Craig thought, remembering how he was shaking and gleaming with sweat at lunch. He then stared down at the dresser with interest. Or maybe not...

Before he could control his impulse, Craig was already reaching for the handle on the dresser and pulling open the top drawer. Without finding any orange-colored prescription pill bottles, he tried the second drawer. Then, the third and finally, the last one. He abruptly shut all of the drawers and took a step back.

Craig scanned the rest of the room and paused as his eyes landed on the neatly made bed beside him. His eyebrows raised. I wonder...

He crouched down and, with a glance to make sure the doorway was clear, he peered under the bed. What he found didn't really surprise him, as he came face to face with several empty pill bottles. He was almost relieved that pills weren't actually inside of them, but by the looks of it, Jimmy didn't want to quit; he just needed his refill.

As Craig rose to his knees, he heard a voice from behind him ask, "What're you doing?"

Startled, he jumped to his feet and turned around to see Butters, standing in the doorway with a suspicious look painted on his face. Craig could feel his heartbeat quicken and the grip he held on the script tighten in his fist.

"Nothing," he answered immediately. "I dropped the script and I was just picking it up."

Butters was quiet for a moment before slowly nodding and saying, "Oh, well, alrighty then."