Buried (a Creek fic)

22. Feelings

Craig was fairly certain that if he smoked one more cigarette, his lungs would probably collapse from all the smoke and nicotine he was inhaling. That, however, didn't stop him and he didn't intend to stop until he felt better (though he knew deep down that he wouldn't). It had been roughly thirty minutes since he had arrived at Stark's Pond from the school and he had went through nearly half his pack of cancer sticks in that time. Not that that really mattered to him.

They brought him temporary relief, though the burning in his lungs and throat begged to differ. However, he didn't mind the pain that much. It still beat the aching in his chest he felt whenever he thought of what had happened with Tweek. During every drag, it seemed to lessen and then right as the cigarette flickered out, it came back stronger than ever. It's like even his body was mad at him for what had happened that afternoon. Even the sight of the pond, though peaceful, it wasn't helping. It just reminded him of when he skipped school with Tweek and the two of them had met at the pond, accompanied by Stripe.

Craig wasn't entirely sure what to do. He had already called Tweek several times, but he - of course - had never picked up. Not that Craig could really blame him. He knew what he did was wrong, but he couldn't get the image of Tweek crying and yelling at him out of his head.

What was he supposed to do? On every voicemail, he had apologized to Tweek profusely and he had even called himself many different colorful swear words to express how much he loathed himself for what had happened, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. At first, he was mad at Kenny, but then the anger shifted towards himself. It wasn't really Kenny's fault for what happened. It was Craig's fault for going to the party, for lying to Tweek, for hurting him.

He could feel every part of his brain fighting with the other. He felt a small piece of it urging him to move on, to forget Tweek, to go back to his old ways. However, a bigger part of his brain overpowered that one by reminding him of the small progress he had made towards changing himself and how he couldn't let that go. Another part was telling him how stupid he was for telling the truth, but he knew deep down that Tweek would've found out anyway. And then, at the very back corner of his mind, sat the emotional part of him. He hated that part with absolutely every being in his body, but for some reason, he couldn't help but listen to it. And what did it remind him? Tweek had said that he liked him.

Tweek. Had. Said. That. He. Liked. Him. Now, maybe that had changed - maybe that part of Tweek had started to dissolve after what had happened, but he could feel a tiny sliver of hope egging him on. He felt it tugging at his chest, whispering in his ear that he couldn't give up.

Tweek, however, was right about one thing: Craig did have a tendency to bury away his feelings deep down inside of him. Every little speck of dirt he had collected from everyone else seemed to just shovel it down further inside of him. But who had tried digging him back out of that hole? Tweek. And who had promised him that he would help him change? Tweek.

Craig stood up and dusted off the cigarette ash that had begun to accumulate on his lap. The pack of cigarettes tumbled off his lap and onto the small pile of snow beneath him, surrounded by the other burnt out cigarettes he had already smoked. He left it be, though, because he didn't need it anymore. The hope in his chest began to override the aching.

As he walked further and further away from the icy pond, Craig looked up at the sky to see the clouds beginning to downcast on him, tinting the sky a sullen grey. It was almost as if the weather sensed all the conflicting emotions inside of him, so it changed the forecast to something much more fitting to the situation.

But, like most of his emotions, Craig didn't seem to understand them. So off he walked, in the direction of someone who definitely knew more about feelings than anyone else he knew.