Buried (a Creek fic)

29. Forgive

Craig wasn't usually nervous about things. Well, that was a lie actually. Craig wasn't usually this nervous about things. That was the truth. Yes, though he tried to hide it, he got anxious every once in awhile (more so recently with everything that's been going on), but still. He didn't remember the last time he felt this sick to his stomach or the last time he had been dreading something so badly. His hands were clammy, as he pinched the envelopes in his hands, fingertips ghostly white from how tightly they were clamped onto the paper.

What if things go wrong?

"I don't think I can do this," Craig decided, his grip loosening and his hands dropping to his sides. Admitting defeat was one of his least favorite things because he hated the taste of patheticism it left in his mouth, but at this point, he didn't care. He just wanted to leave.

"Craig," Tweek stated, raising his eyebrows at him pointedly and crossing his arms over his chest. "Th-This needs to happ-happen."

"Tweek - really, it's fine," he tried to convince him. "Seriously, let's just go. We can go back to my house or something. I can try to help you suck less at video games - or - or we can take Stripe to the park... or..."

His insisting expression didn't waver, not even a little bit. He definitely showed no signs of budging any time soon. "Craig, I sp-spent all n-night encour-couraging you to carry on with th-this idea. I'm n-not let-letting you give up on it n-now."

And that was true, they both knew it. Craig had stayed over at Tweek's house until around 10 in the evening. The stay was supposed to be nice, considering he got to spend time with the blonde that he adored, but it was all very nerve-wracking for him. Ever since he confessed to Tweek that he wanted to start making his amends, Tweek wouldn't let that go. He figured that he wouldn't (since he always persisted on helping him), but half of him wished that they could forget about the whole thing.

Craig had felt almost-nauseously uneasy, when he had been feverishly slumped over in Tweek's desk chair with the end of the pencil rapidly drumming against the table. His eyes kept darting back and forth between the clock and the notebook paper in front of him. He had the list of people he needed to write to scratched out on the first page, and though he knew exactly what he needed to say, his brain was a completely jumbled mess.

Tweek had been quietly perched on the edge of his bed, watching Craig with keen hazel eyes. Everytime Craig showed signs of giving up (which included heavily sighing, muttering a variety of curse words under his breath, annoyedly shoving his black hair out of his eyes, or attempting to hop out of the chair and leave), Tweek would lean over and rest his chin on Craig's shoulder. Sometimes he would plant a kiss on his cheek, or other times (usually when Craig was exclaiming that he couldn't do it) he would slink up behind him and wrap his arms loosely around his neck with a hug from behind. He hadn't said a word, he didn't need to.

Still, Craig sighed. "Tweek, I really don't think I can - "

He was cut off by Tweek unexpectantly wrapping his arms around his neck like he had the night before and squeezing him into a hug. Craig let his shoulders relax, as his arms circled around Tweek's waist, trying not to press too hard against him and hurt his already fractured ribs.

He felt his heart rate momentarily slow down, as he closed his eyes and sank his chin into Tweek's tousled mop of hair. He didn't expect one simple action to fill him with a sense of peace, but then again, he usually felt that way around Tweek. The boy could always seem to put him at ease.

Tweek pulled away, still resting his hands steadily on Craig's shoulders. His hazel eyes met Craig's blue ones and he smiled reassuringly at him. He gave his shoulders a little squeeze for good measure before stepping back and leaning against the wall. "It - It'll be fine."