Chapter 1: Roommates
Notes:
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Chapter Text
The world is quiet and boring for Kenny McCormick.
In a world where people are always attached to their soul mates, his is silent. For years he’s wondered if the other is dead or maybe blind; it would explain why they never seemed to answer when he wrote on his skin.
His home life never made the situation any better. His father was abusive and his mother neglectful. Kenny knew the moment he could, he would leave his home behind. But it never felt fast enough. Everyday his father declined further into alcoholism and everyday he came far too close to actions he should never take.
It was fourth grade when his father finally crossed that line and it was in fourth grade that Kenny found out his soul mate existed.
The bruises on his arm were so deep his soul mate must have been able to see them because scrawled on his wrist were the words: “be strong”.
That was the first and last time his soul mate spoke to him. No matter what he said, what he drew, what he did, the other was silent as the dead and he mourned their existence.
There were times where he would sit and fill his entire arm with drawings. Nothing doodles of anything and everything he could think of. He would paint full scenes of epic battles between characters waging wars in his imagination, hoping and wishing that something, anything, would get his soul mate's attention.
Other days, he tried pleading with them.
Words of broken sadness littered across his own skin. Begs and pleads for them to write anything to let him know they were okay. The pain of not knowing was the worst, his heart in a constant vice grip of what if.
The idea of total solitude in the face of a world where no one suffered alone was devastating.
Kenny would try, every single day, with a new tactic.
A hole in his heart began to grow; a loneliness people aren’t supposed to know festering like a rotting apple where his heart should be. He grew more distant as time went on, not allowing himself even a chance at happiness if the person wasn’t his. Wasn’t the person he was meant to be with.
As he grew he had many offers to fill the void in his heart and none of them were good enough in his eyes. He would lift his arm, make eye contact with said suitor, and draw a heart. He’d stare at their skin and as nothing showed up, he would kindly reject them. Because what was the point if they weren't his soul mate. The idea of dating someone else's soul mate made him sick to his stomach. Stealing that chance of true love from another person made his blood freeze in his veins.
Who would be so cruel? To doom another to the very loneliness he himself was cursed into.
As the years passed, all he could think about were those two words; ‘Be Strong’ and just like that, Kenny knew no one would ever be able to live up to them. No one would ever be good enough.
When the time finally came for Kenny to head out to college, he still felt the same pull to try. Kenny spent hours writing about his excitement and trepidation, how fearful he was to go to a new place, yet full of hope that was finally leaving that damned house and his father behind. He wishes his soul mate the same luck. But just like every other time, they maintain radio silence.
—————
Though Craig would never admit it out loud, the idea that somewhere, out in the world, there was a person matched to him, his perfect puzzle piece, stirred something deep inside him. He'd seen people around him happy, messages of love and clever doodles adorning their skin, and he ached for it. To finally find his person, the one who would understand him.
Until he met Tweek.
They were children, but the overwhelming wave of fondness and love hit him so hard he thought he would drown. Neither had received a message, and Craig had heard of people who's soul mates were people they knew all along. He was overcome with hope, the steady mantra of what if what if what if a tattoo on his beating heart.
When Tweek gets a message, letters neat and deliberate against his pale skin, Craig thinks that this is what dying feels like. This pain, this knowledge that there is someone else who gets to claim Tweek's heart, someone who isn't him, breaks him, shatters his dreams into a million pieces.
Two weeks later he gets his first message. It's short and it's not the person, his person's fault, but they're not Tweek and he ignores it, covering his arms with long sleeves and hoodies so he doesn't have to bear witness to proof that he can never have the boy he loves.
He doesn't read a single message for a year.
The pain was too raw and he was too volatile then, in the way that 9-year-old conviction goes, but on his 10th birthday, alone in his room he pulls up his sleeve, curiosity finally getting the better of him.
It's a doodle of a cat, badly drawn and surrounded by hearts with a little arrow pointing to it. My little sister's greatest masterpiece, the message reads at the end of the arrow, and Craig finds himself smiling, tears somehow welling up in his eyes as another doodle bursts to life across his skin. It's another cat, better but still pretty awful, the hurried but not messy script following it bringing a laugh to his lips. And my greatest work, clearly. Clutching his arm to his chest, he allows himself to cry.
Craig doesn't cover the drawings and messages anymore, his arms blooming with intricate designs and clever words, but he never responds to any of them. They're not Tweek his brain supplies, knowing that his crush is futile but unwilling to completely give up on the boy he loves, and somehow acknowledging the other, this person who draws aliens and ninja stars creeping up his arm, who wrote HELLO ANYONE HOME in obnoxiously huge letters across his face, would snuff out any hope he had with his blonde best friend.
Not that there is hope, anyway.
It's not until months later at his dinner table, ignoring his parents complaining about something horrible that happened at work that he feels compelled to reply. The mark appears slowly, wrapping around his wrist and darkening over the course of several minutes, but the large hand print is unmistakable. Craig wants to cry, hurting so deeply for this person he doesn't even know, aching for the pain that would cause such a bruise to appear for him. He wonders if other marks will appear on his body and immediately feels like vomiting, excusing himself from the table. Rushing to his room, he locks the door, eyes never leaving the now dark imprint, encompassing his entire wrist and part of his forearm.
Craig grabs a pen before he realizes what he's doing, uncapping it with his teeth and setting the tip to his skin. What could he even say. What could a dumb 4th grader like him possibly have to say to this person, maybe a million miles away.
Be strong, he settles on, putting as much of himself into each stroke of his pen as he can, ignoring the droplets of water that fall onto his arm.
After that he returns to silence.
He's since nearly given up on Tweek, even if he can't help the flutter in his heart when his best friend bounds up to him, coffee in hand and a new conspiracy theory bursting from his lips.
But he's trying, as futile as he's started to believe it might be. College is fast approaching, application deadlines are looming, and Craig has grown to take comfort in the words that almost constantly litter his arms.
—————
It’s dark by the time Kenny finally pulls up to the building that holds his dorm room. Kenny’s finally ready to move into the small room that’s going to be his and someone else’s for the next year. Climbing the stairs to take the hallway elevator he watches as people float in and out of the doorway as he holds it open for them. He smiles politely and they return it, and he feels like this place may be less scary than he previously thought.
The blond boards the elevator and with a short ride up, arrives at the floor that holds his new home. As he stands in front of the door, he’s suddenly scared again. This whole thing. Going to college, it’s terrifying. Kenny never thought he would go, let alone get in. Now here he is.
Kenny tries the handle and finding it locked, he decides to knock. He waits for the other person in the room to hopefully answer as he shifts the box in his arms; it would just be his luck though, if the room turned out empty.
But to his surprise and delight, a muffled yell followed by a suspicious sounding crash cuts through the silence on the other side of the door. "Shit, sorry, hold on!"
The blond blinks as he listens to the other person at the door, raising an eyebrow and with an amused expression decides to take a step back, just in case. “Hey there buddy, don’t die before you open that, okay?” He chuckles and shifts the box to put more weight on one arm, in case his roommate needs help.
The door creaks open a moment later, vibrant aqua eyes appearing in the small gap. "Are you Kenny?" the smaller blond asks, the dark circles under his eyes only intensifying his stare.
“Yup! The one and only Kenneth McCormick, at your service.” Kenny offers his roommate his best gapped smile and cheeriest laugh, “I’d uh, shake your hand dude, but my arms are kinda full.” Kenny gestures with his shoulder to show the weight in his arms.
"Oh Jesus, I'm so sorry," the other shuts the door, quickly unlatching the chain before opening it fully. "I hope it's okay that I took the right side of the room."
“Nope. Totally throws off the Feng shui of the room. We’re goin' to need an entire overhaul,” Kenny quips as he places the box down on the left side of the room before turning back to the anxious looking boy. “Dude, chill out, I’m kidding. I could care less." The look on the shorter boys face tells Kenny that he should probably joke less and be a tad more sincere. In an effort to do so, he offers a genuine smile, "So...what’s your name?”’
"I-I'm Tweek," the small blond offers an uneasy smile, somewhat aggressively trying to tug a strand of his hair into place behind his ear. "Tweek Tweak."
Kenny tries his best not to laugh, who names their child the same name twice? He commits the name it to his memory before he reaches his hand out to shake the nervous boy’s hand. He reaches slowly so not to scared or shock him. “It’s my pleasure, Tweek.” He looks around the room with a low whistle after the briefest of hand shakes, “Hey buddy, how do you feel about fairy lights and a pillow fort?” Kenny asks, walking around the room and eyeing the dimensions. He wants to make this home away from home as comfortable and welcoming as possible, and what says comfort like a pillow fort?
Tweek seems to perk up at that. "I used to build those with my best friend. They uh..they really helped with my.." he gestures vaguely, "...everything." Fidgeting with his hands, the blond's frantically darting eyes settle on something across the room. "You like coffee?"
“Do I?” Kenny wiggles his brows and dusts off the front of his shirt dramatically. “You sir, are looking at Employee of the Month five months in a row. I was a top notch barista back home, well, as top notch as a small town can hold."
Kenny starts unpacking his stuff and pulls out a tangled strand of fairy lights, “I’m glad you’re not opposed to these, I don’t have to hide the body now.” He smiles to show he’s joking as he starts to hang them up. It's clear that Tweek understood the joke, but he can feel the suspicious glance stabbing through his back as he works the lights onto the wall.
"I-I am too. A barista, I mean," Tweek crosses the room and busies himself with making a pot of coffee in the cheap percolator on his desk. "My parents own a coffee shop and I was the cheapest labor they could get," he says the words in a rush, his usually twitchy fingers becoming surgically meticulous.
“Rough go, dude. I myself, amped up my charm for tips, but it was a fun job in the end,” Kenny chimes as he jumps off his bed and heads over toward his box to unpack some clothes while Tweek continues to make their coffee. A brilliant idea occurs to him as he's folding one of his shirts, causing him to stop and put it down. Walking over to his bed, Kenny sits down and grabs a pen out of his pocket and starts writing on his arm.
If I could count the stars in the sky, I’d hope they were your number.
Hovering by the coffee pot, Tweek watches Kenny carefully, still trying the get a feel for his new roommate, and very grateful that he isn't a complete wreck in this situation like he would have been years ago.
"Have you met yours yet?" Tweek chirps from his spot at his desk, scrubbing his hands over his arms.
“No.” Kenny frowns down at his arm where the ink is drying, “Love of my life, cock sucker McGee doesn’t talk to me. Ever.”
Kenny takes a little bear out of his box and puts it on his bed, a gift from Karen. The dried ink on his arm stands as a constant reminder that his soul mate ghosts him, where his happy little bear comforts him. Karen would always be a reminder that someone out their loved him.
“How about you, Twizzler?” The nickname rolls off his tongue naturally. Kenny enjoys nicknames like one enjoys candy, no pun intended. He finds them a great ice breaker and sweet to boot. Pairing nicknames with his charming personality tends to help people get comfortable quickly around him.
Tweek's already big eyes grow wider, a worried crease appearing between his eyebrows. "N-never? Not even once?" It appears he's ignored the second question in favor of the admission and Kenny lets it slide. Most people are shocked by this information, after all.
Kenny’s eyes go soft as he looks at his wrist and sighs, “Once. After my dad...” His voice waivers at the memory, vision blurring momentarily before he snaps back to reality and waves his hand. He tries his best to shift his face into a bright smile, wanting Tweek to feel comfortable. “So! About that coffee?”
"Oh right, I'm sorry," he turns back to the coffee pot, fishing a mug out of his desk and setting it next to another already on the countertop. "'M sorry about your person. It...that's really shitty of them to do that to you."
“Yeah well, I’m sure the jerkface has their reasons,” Kenny wistfully adds, he doesn’t even know something as simple as their gender, which causes a pang of pain in his chest.
“What about you? Anyone markin’ up the ole skin?” Kenny punctuates the question by wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at the other blond.
Tweek starts at that, hands absently darting to smooth his fingers over his forearms. "I-Ive been too nervous to meet him in person. Maybe one day. He's helped a lot. He and Craig."
"Craig? That a friend of yours?" Kenny asks, putting clothes away in his dresser and hanging some of his jackets and hoodies into the closet. He's curious as much as the next person would be, to find out about his roommates soul mate, but he seems to want to avoid the subject, "I'm mostly good at pickup lines myself."
"My best friend," Tweek nods, turning and handing over a mug to Kenny with shaking fingers. Sitting on his bed, he pulls his knees to his chest before taking up his own mug. "I-I don't think...pickuplines, oh Jesus, that's so much pressure."
"Ah ha, you're one of those," Kenny jokes, he rushes to clarify so not to seem rude. "Nervous. I know how that goes." He walks over and sits on Tweek's bed next to him, sipping his coffee. His free hand lays on Tweek's twitching shoulder and he offers the most comforting smile he can pull out of his arsenal. "You know what? I'll do whatever I can to help, to get you two closer. How's that sound?"
Tweek jumps slightly at the hand on his shoulder, offering a kind, yet weary smile. "Thank you. You really don't have to, you just met me and I-I'm not even...I don't know. B-But thank you!"
The mug is lifted to Kenny’s lips before he blows on the liquid and takes a large gulp. It’s really good. He decides in that moment he’ll do what it takes to help his roommate talk to his true love, one of them should.
“Don’t worry about it. That’s just who I am, Twizzler.” Kenny eyes the boy next to him with a mischievous grin, "You don't mind me calling you that, do you?"
"Uh, I guess not, that's fine?" Tweek takes a sip of his coffee, shivers wracking the small blond’s frame lessening with each gulp. "You seem nice, at any rate, and I don't mind, really."
It's clear a strange thought pattern crosses into Tweek's head suddenly as his body goes tense next to Kenny's, "Oh God, you're not an axe murderer are you?"
A loud laugh falls out of Kenny and his entire body shakes with the sound; he isn't sure where that even comes from. It takes Kenny a moment to remember the earlier comment about hiding the body, and realizes that Tweek must have been obsessing about it the entire time.
"Oh man, if I were, don't you think I'd be hiding weapons everywhere or something?" Kenny ponders this as he sips delicately at his coffee, "Or maybe I hide them off campus?" He hums to himself before standing and going to his side of the room to really think about the areas where one would hide said weapons. Not that he would ever need that knowledge, but it could be useful in emergencies such as a zombie apocalypse.
"If I were an ax murderer, how would I even dispose of the bodies?" Kenny finds himself quietly asking out loud, he pauses briefly before before he yells out a 'Ah ha!' pounding his fist on the near-by desk, "the botany labs! Turn all those bodies into mulch." Finally feeling accomplished in his train of thought, Kenny nods feeling satisfied before he grabs his pen and writes something on his bicep.
If you were a plant, I'd make sure to always fertilize you.
Tweek looks caught between terrified and laughter. The giggles win, erupting from his mouth before he has a chance to stifle them with his hand. "M-maybe try the chemistry lab, too. They probably have something that can like....dissolve anything." A far off expression crosses the smaller blond’s face, the tension immediately flooding back. "Ohmygod I'm sorry that was sofuckingcreepy."
"No, not creepy, but it does makes you an accomplice!" Kenny snorts, his shoulders shaking with mirth as he watches his roommate. “Tweek buddy, I like your style. No need to apologize man, I didn’t even think of that.”
Kenny leisurely drops himself onto his bed with a chuckle before looking at his ceiling, “If I need to hide a body, I’m coming to you.”
—————
"Jesus Christ," Craig mumbles, smiling against his will at the most recent godawful pickup line to appear on his skin.
If you were a plant, I'd make sure to always fertilize you.
From his spot laying on his new standard issue twin bed, Craig reaches into the drawer in the bed frame and pulls out a small note book, flipping to his most recent dog-eared page and writing down the quote directly under If I could count the stars in the sky, I’d hope they were your number.
He may not reply, but it doesn't mean he didn't notice. Or maybe this was just blackmail in the probably unlikely event that he and his weird-ass soul mate ever met.
"What does that even mean," he drops the notebook next to him on his bed, tracing the letters in that familiar script on his bicep.
"What's what mean?"
Craig turns to look at his roommate, standing precariously on his chair and trying to tape up another poster. "'If you were a plant, I'd make sure to always fertilize you.'"
"Dude," Clyde turns to face him, eyebrows practically raised to his hairline. "Either he wants to shit on you or come on you. There is no in between."
"I don't even know if it's a guy."
"Why," the brunet gives up when the corner of his poster flops off the wall for the umpteenth time, hopping off the chair and facing Craig, "is that what you took away from that?"
Rolling his eyes, the taller boy shoves the notebook under his pillow. "Clyde-"
"No, no no. I get it. You're a giant tree of a gay and don't mind another dude covering you in hi-"
"Clyde."
"Whatever," the boy smirks, waving off the murderous look he's receiving from across the room. "Look, it's definitely a dude. I can't think of a girl alive who would write all those things."
Craig raises a dark eyebrow, regarding his roommate cooly. "That would actually entail you talking to a girl."
"Hey! I happen to talk to Bebe all the time, thank you very much!" The number of octaves Clyde's voice jumps up brings another smile to Craig's lips as he settles back against his sheets again, closing his eyes.
"And now you're ignoring me? Rude, Craigory. Good day, sir."
"M'not ignoring your annoying ass-"
"I said good day!" Clyde climbs back onto his chair to battle his poster again, leaving Craig alone with his thoughts and the words of a stranger he's known most of his life.
He doesn't know why he hasn't replied beyond those two words. He's thought about it, been tempted throughout the years, but something holds him back, and he's not sure if it has anything to do with Tweek anymore.
-----
Kenny is beyond bored sitting in his creative writing class. He’s so bored, he’s considering jumping from the fourth story window to end it all as we speak. But that’s dramatic, and he isn’t about to do that. Some poor fellow would have to clean up after him, and they never pay janitors quite enough.
Sighing, he looks down at his arm and starts writing.
Do you think animals dream?
He pauses, pen to his lips before he scribbles a drawing of a little mouse. Kenny has rats back home and he misses them, he draws all three of them circling a really crude drawing of himself as a princess. Karen always made me be the Princess when we played, Kenny muses as he doodles, remembering all the times she played knight.
I think if they did, my rats would wanna pretend they’re dragons. After a few minutes he continues writing across his wrist, Maybe I should stop watching so much Game of Thrones.
Maybe, Craig muses to himself, eyes darting between the drawing of a princess surrounded by rats and the lines of text. He looks back at the princess, following the little lines.
It's been a while since the initial conversation, and maybe Clyde is wrong. It wouldn't be a shock in and of itself, but as much as Craig gave his friend shit over it, he is of the same opinion about his soul mate being another guy. That princess drawing is throwing him for a loop though. Not that he particularly minds.
A frown creases his eyebrows. When had he started actually thinking about being with this person in earnest. He's in his room working on homework, Clyde typing away on his laptop when he grumbles loudly as he notices Craig staring at his arm.
"Just answer him," Clyde pipes up from across the room.
It's not that simple. It's been years and probably thousands of messages and all Craig has said are two tiny words. This person is probably only writing messages and doodling to pass the time and out of habit, not because they actually want anything to do with Craig. He blew that chance years ago with his silence.
"I don't know," he stares at the little picture, rats seeming to float around their fair princess.
"Tucks, you're killing me. Just do it. Be Shia." Craig sees Clyde move from his bed to squat and flex out of the corner of his eye and doesn't give him the satisfaction of a response.
Instead he picks up a pen, uncapping it and setting the nib to his skin. Here goes nothing.
Does your ass have it's own gravitational pull because they look like they're orbiting you.
A staccato knock sounds against their door, both boys calling out 'Its open' with varying levels of enthusiasm.
"H-hey guys," Tweek pokes his head into the room, offering a smile. "Are you ready to go? Heidi is already there."
Chapter 2: Contact
Summary:
His heart swells, it swells so much he can feel the choked sob of happiness leave his mouth. Was that him? Did he know he could make that noise? Who knew!
He’s full of such happiness he’s never felt before. Snatching his phone he texts Tweek, asking where his roommate is. When the boy answers him; he scrambles to get up, ignoring the weird looks he’s getting, and runs to him.
Notes:
Hello friends!
We know you've been waiting so patiently for us to update and you shall be rewarded!
We're writing several stories at once, both multi-chapters and one-shots so we appreciate all of you waiting so kindly on us to finish each chapter.
We hope you enjoy <3
Chapter Text
Kenny feels the writing on his arm before he sees it. He feels his chest tighten, his breath escape his lungs, and his mind shutting down simultaneously.
His entire world stops.
He can no longer hear the chatter around him in the quad because he can’t believe it. Kenny thinks he may have died somehow and went to heaven because after all this time his soul mate finally answered him.
Kenny's hands are shaking, he can feel the sweat pooling down his back and along his hairline. Slowly, he regains his ability to move and pulls his arm to eye level. The shock that had such a hold on him breaks as he snorts out a loud laugh. It shakes his entire body, bending him in half until he’s sure he’s going to hit the floor.
And he does. Kenny finds himself sitting in the middle of the quad cradling his arm, laughter shaking him and tears in his eyes.
Because they finally answered him.
They’re alive. They’re alive and they don’t hate him.
His heart swells, it swells so much he can feel the choked sob of happiness leaving his mouth. Was that him? Did he know he could make that noise? Who knew!
He’s full of such happiness he’s never felt before. Snatching his phone, he texts Tweek, asking where his roommate is. When the boy answers him, he scrambles to get up, ignoring the weird looks he’s getting, and runs to find Tweek.
They’ve become such good friends since the first day of school a couple of weeks ago, that he can’t think of anyone else he’d want to share this information with.
Making his way into the library, he sees the blond with a group of people and he runs through the crowd before them, having them part like the Red Sea.
“TWEEK!” He screeches, not even caring that it’s a library. Kenny snatches the boy by the shoulders as he stands up and shakes him. He’s so excited he can’t even speak, but the smile on his face causes Tweek to smile as well. He knows the other boy can tell how happy he is when Tweek starts laughing.
“Kenny?” He asks, “I-I’m guessing something g-good happened?”
The taller blond grins, speechless and unable to actually explain to his roommate at this exact moment. In his elation, he shakes Tweek again before letting him go. “Change of plans, I’ll tell you later, I gotta go!” He decides last minute, opting to tell Tweek when they weren't in a public place. Instead, Kenny decides this moment needs more attention, him being alone to answer the words scribbled on his arm.
Kenny winks at the people with Tweek before he’s bolting off. He stops midway before leaving the library and grabs a random girl, spinning her and dipping her in his excitement. She’s blushing and laughing as he lets her up and spins himself away dramatically.
He runs all the way back to his dorm room. He swears that he can hear the Willy Wonka music in his ears as he leaps over random benches and jogs three steps at a time up until he reaches his room.
Busting through the door, Kenny throws himself on his bed and grabs a pen. His eyes are sparkling, he has to make sure this comment back is perfect or who knows how long it’ll take before they answer again?
Well, my ass has its own zip code so I wouldn’t be surprised.
He pauses and laughs adding on, And I have been told I’m out of this world.
-----
"Um," Heidi walks up to the table housing her friends, dropping down into her seat next to Bebe and rounding on Tweek, "who the hell was that?"
"Oh, uh," the small blond scratches at the back of his neck, cheeks flushing under the sudden scrutiny of the entire table. "T-that's Kenny. My roommate."
Heidi stares at Tweek for a moment, eyebrows knitting into a frown despite the smile spreading over her lips. "You dirty betrayer, you've been hiding that from me?"
"What about Cartman?" Clyde asks slowly, looking around to the others at the table to make sure he isn't missing something.
"What about Eric, did you see that boy?" the brunette gestures in the direction Kenny left, cheeks still pleasantly flushed from their spin-and-dip encounter minutes earlier. Leaning back in her chair, she sighs, shaking her head. "He doesn't have to worry. Just because I'm not out to buy doesn't mean I can't window shop, sheesh."
Craig tunes out the chatter of his friends, eyes narrowing at the door where the wild-eyed blond had appeared like a whirlwind, making Tweek blush in the aftermath. Turning his attention to his best friend, his frown deepens.
It had taken years of friendship for Tweek to warm up to Craig like that, and he couldn't help the bitterness rising in him. Even though his hopeless crush on the boy next to him had waned over the years, it still fucking hurt that someone could so effortlessly waltz in and become part of Tweek's life like that. Hell, that Kenny guy was barely around them for more than a minute and his friends are still talking about him.
"I mean but like did you see his smile oh my God," Heidi feigns dramatics, clutching at imaginary pearls around her neck.
"Craig?" Tweek lowers his voice, trying to make eye contact with the noirette. "Are you okay?"
"I don't like him," he deadpans before his brain can quite catch up with his mouth.
"Craig Tucker disliking someone for literally no reason?" Clyde gapes, sarcasm dripping from his words. "I'm fuckin' shook."
Face impassive, Craig flips Clyde off, turning his attention back to Tweek who looks worried and hurt and fuuuuuuuck that was not part of the plan.
"Why don't you like him?" the blond's voice is soft, fingers itching to tug on the sleeves of his button down.
"I," he starts, having no idea how to answer without sounding like a complete jackass, "I don't know, I just get a feeling that-"
"You jealous, Tucker?" Heidi raises an eyebrow at Craig, a knowing smile across her lips.
"Because if you are, that's fair," Bebe leans into Heidi's space, a twin grin on her face. "He's hot."
"He might be able to dethrone you for hottest guy in the group," Heidi quips, ignoring how hard Craig rolls his eyes.
"Wait that's Craig?" Clyde's bottom lip quivers and it's only a matter of time before Bebe jumps in to save the day.
"Oh baby, shh, you're gorgeous."
There it is.
Craig focuses on Tweek again, letting the other side of the table squabble among themselves. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be an asshole."
The look Tweek fixes him with is nothing short of annoyed. "You don't even know him, Craig. He's going to be my roommate for the next year, c-can you at least give him a chance?"
Green eyes narrow once more, knowing this isn't something he's going to win. "Tweek..."
"For me?" And fuck this asshole; he knows exactly what he's doing to Craig. The little quirk at the corner of his mouth is proof enough.
With an exasperated sigh, Craig shakes his head. "And they say I'm the asshole. Fine. But I'm not going to like it."
Tweek's face lights up in a grin, bumping their shoulders together lightly. "I knew you'd come around."
"Yeah, yeah," Craig mumbles, scratching at his arm when he notices two new rows of text on his skin. Excusing himself, he grabs a pen and walks to the front door, enjoying the warmth of the sun in contrast to the frozen tundra that is the library.
Well, my ass has its own zip code so I wouldn’t be surprised.
And I have been told I’m out of this world.
Craig is smiling down at his arm before he realizes it, thumb skimming over the letters. He's mad at himself that he didn't do this sooner. He knows why, knows he wasn't ready then, but wonders how much would be different if he had opened up to this stranger.
Uncapping the pen, Craig takes a breath before replying.
An intergalactic ass? Your zip code must be an entire solar system.
The blond is sitting at his desk when he sees the writing appear on his arm. He feels blessed. He isn't sure what or why his soulmate has started writing to him, but he can feel his eyes glazing over again as he reads the joke over and over and over. Kenny feels light, almost dizzy, by how happy this makes him.
The one person in this entire god forsaken world made just for him has finally started talking back.
He's so taken by the idea that he starts drawing out of happiness. The drawings are vast and stupid, he knows. Kenny isn't the best artist out there, that's for sure. He starts on his bicep, drawing out all of the planets in their solar system. Next, he draws a little stick figure on top of Earth. When he's done, he draws a stick figure in a space suit floating alone in the stars he decorates over his freckles.
I would believe so, since I live here. He writes then draws an arrow to himself in the space suit and another to the person on the Earth.
Hey look, I've waving from up here. Can you see me?
Kenny smiles at his creation, dotting some more stars in the heavens before he leans on his palm and traces the handwriting that belongs to the other half of his soul.
Craig leans against the library wall, watching stars appear across his bicep. How dare you use space against me, his brain supplies, looking at the two little figures on his arm.
Putting the pen to his skin, he draws his chullo on the stick figure on the Earth, adding an arm to make it wave back.
Just barely. The sun is bright today.
Kenny laughs when he sees words appear near his. They're having a conversation and he's elated. It isn't just a random set of phrases, it's a honest to goodness conversation. Squinting, he looks at the little bit of detail his soul mate adds to their stick figures. Something about the doodle and the way the person's handwriting reminds him of chicken scratch, makes him believe it's a boy.
His heart flutters at the idea. Kenny wouldn't mind either way, but he did tend to lean more towards guys, if he is totally honest with himself.
Sighing, he nibbles on the end of the pen to think of what he should add. He wants to give his soul mate some information about himself without so much as scaring him away. It took him years to finally get to this point. Kenny isn't going to ruin it.
Kenny licks his finger and erases the him in the space suit from his arm, then he draws the little him standing next to the boy on Earth. But he draws himself with the helmet under his little stick figure arm. Kenny doodles to the best of his ability, his short and wild hair before putting dots all over the stick figure's face.
There. Maybe now it would be a little clearer that he himself was a boy.
Now you don't have to look into the sun. I'll stand here with you instead.
Craig stares at the words, at the doodle of what he assumes is another boy next to doodle-him, and he feels his heart clench in the most perfect way. Why had he wasted so many years just watching this person write and draw and live when he could have been part of it.
Thank you for sparing my retinas, Craig writes back, drawing sunglasses on both of the little figures. But just in case.
Craig doesn't know where to go from here. He owes this person so much more than an apology, and fuck if he's not still terrified that this won't work in the way that it's supposed to, that he'll wake up head over heels for Tweek again, an endless litany of what if what if what if.
Kenny makes an almost inhuman sound at his soul mate's ability to make him crumble with just a few small additions to his doodle.
Sunglasses? He thinks to himself, his cheeks blushing a bright red flush. This guy really understands his sense of humor and it is killing him that he hasn't been able to enjoy how purely amazing he's been all these years.
Kenny starts drawing on his other arm; he can't stop now that his soul mate is paying attention to him. He's enamored with his responses. He draws and writes stupid jokes for the rest of the night until his entire arms, his legs, and all the way up his neck are covered in pointless drawings.
They range from himself as a Princess fighting off books so he doesn't have to do his homework; to drawings his soul mate sent back, of a Thief sneaking away from the fight to call for help, to stuff as simple as little drawings of superheroes.
It's late when Kenny falls asleep with his pen in his hand. It's been years since he's been so happy and for once he sleeps soundly. He dreams of epic battles, of the stars, and of a hidden smile on the other end of this attachment that he longs to see.
When the messages stop after a weird wiggly line slashes across his skin, Craig assumes that the other fell asleep. He pushes down the fond smile threatening to quirk his lips.
Standing up from the bed he's confined himself to since he left the library hours ago, he takes off his shirt and gathers his things and heads to the communal showers on his floor. It's late enough that it's empty, and Craig is thankful of that fact when he catches sight of himself in the mirror.
Every inch of his skin from the neck down that isn't covered by clothing is blooming with drawings and text. Seeing himself blush is as surreal to him as finally talking to this person, his person, is. Craig isn't sure he deserves such attention after years of radio silence, but he's grateful to have someone so understanding marking up his skin.
As much as he doesn't want to, Craig scrubs the ink from his skin, watching as older doodles and messages from earlier start to fade.
When he returns to his room, ignoring the harsh snores emitting from Clyde's side of the room, the noirette takes up his pen once more, trying to make his sleep addled hands write legibly.
Goodnight, Princess.
Chapter 3: Confessions
Summary:
Feeling the telltale tingling of the other writing on his skin, Craig pulls up his pant leg, seeing the poem standing out stark and beautiful on his skin. The penmanship is beyond impressive, and the smallest pang echoes in his chest at how much work his soulmate must have put into learning to write like that.
Well now you’re just showing off, he scribbles on his arm, hoping his fondness transfers despite his perpetual sarcasm.
Notes:
Wow! Ya'll have really been liking this story and leaving us comments and kudos. We really appreciate the love and support, it keeps us going!
Time to reward you with a chapter! <3 Tell us how you like it!
Chapter Text
Waking up the next day, Kenny finds that he maybe should have taken a shower before falling asleep. He inspects the damage left behind and laughs as he heads to scrub it off. It doesn't escape him that his soulmate called him Princess and he likes the sound of it.
When he's back in his room, Tweek still asleep, he dries off his hair and picks up a pen.
Good morning! I fell asleep without saying goodnight, how rude of me. Please forgive this royal, as they aren't quite used to such classy conversation before bed. He writes small to fit what he has to say before he writes a little more on his other arm. What can I call you?
He figures it's too soon to ask for real names, real information. After all, his soulmate spent years not answering him and he doesn't want to risk any of this.
Craig rolls over in bed, blinking blearily at the message.
Morning. Are any of them really 'good' though?
The second message gives him pause. He honesty hadn't considered that question before and now that he is, he feels like an idiot.
Good question. I spaced out on that being something that we should probably establish.
Kenny, in one of his moments of cleverness, laughs at the double entendre and starts writing.
Spaced out, huh? I think I'll just call you Star boy.
Craig rolls his eyes, a smile creeping over his lips.
I can live with that. What about you?
The blond thinks about how it made him feel when his soulmate referred to him as Princess and he knows that's what he wants.
You may address us as Princess, we are royalty after all. He taps the pen against his skin once before adding, Not really, I'm just two penguins in a wig, actually.
I fucking knew it, Craig scribbles out quickly before staring at his ceiling. He was smiling too much, something had to be wrong.
Craig raises his arm above him, staring at each little letter on his skin and feeling them deep down to his core.
Hey, he starts, pen hesitating on his skin. I wanted to say that I was sorry for being so quiet for so long. I know you don't exactly owe me anything but I wanted to let you know.
I wasn't ready then...
The tears that escape aren't welcome but they're there and surprise Kenny as they drop onto his night shirt. Words he's been wanting, needing to see for years finally written on him. The blond scrubs at his eyes with the palms of his hands, a little happy sob slipping from between his lips.
He pulls his phone off the nightstand and takes a picture of the words. He never wants to forget this moment.
Before he starts writing, he traces the words with his finger and closes his eyes, willing the touch to transfer to his soulmate. Kenny knows this isn't quite how it works, but he wills all of his heart into it. Listen, I'm just happy you're here now. You have nothing to apologize for. I forgive you.
Kenny pauses, nibbling on his bottom lip and debating if he adds this last line or not, but he does. Please don't leave me again.
Craig’s heart aches for this person he's never met outside of jokes and doodles, for this endlessly patient human who can't draw for shit, but has the most beautiful handwriting he's ever seen.
Okay, Craig writes back, and means it with everything he is. I won't. Under any other circumstance he would never make a promise like this, but he is determined to follow through on his words.
-----
It's been days. Days of artwork littered across his skin, writing in forms of short bursts or long tangents. Kenny's learning so much about Star boy, making up for all of their lost time together.
He's learned that he really likes space to the point that his major is astronomy, learned that he must be stupid tall since he once commented on one of his friends calling him a baby giraffe. He's also learned that Star boy enjoyed the show Red Racer growing up and that followed him into his later teens. He's even found out interesting little tidbits about the other's family life, his favorite things, and everything little irrelevant thing in-between.
When the scholars speak of the connection you have between your soulmate and yourself, they never quite capture that deep, painful, and agonizing feeling of just all encompassing fondness for someone you've never actually seen in-person.
This fondness could even be love if Kenny understood what love felt like. He isn't sure, but the idea of this person is making him weak in the knees every time he sends little compliments or drawings.
Sitting in class, he finds himself drawing on his hand again, absently. And he snaps out of it too late to take back what he drew. His cheeks grow impossibly red as he scrubs at it, but it's too late. He knows it's transferred.
On his hand is a field of hearts, big ones and small ones. And in the middle is two little stick figures smiling at each other.
Kenny feels like a fucking idiot.
When the first heart appears on his hand, Craig doesn't immediately notice, too busy trying to steal back one of his tacos from Clyde in the cafeteria. He gives up when the brunet goes to lick his arm, sitting back in his seat, when he notices it right at the base of his thumb. The smile pulling on his lips would be embarrassing, except with Clyde quite literally inhaling everything on his tray Craig can't find it in himself to be embarrassed.
He thinks of their almost constant conversation, evolving and taking wild turns over his limbs. How Princess, as he's started to refer to the other boy, has a sister the same age as Tricia, lives in the same time zone, and has a deep love for anime. He appreciates Red Racer, which had Craig stifling a grin in class as his history professor droned on about ancient Peru or something, and was majoring in creative writing.
As each heart appears after the first, Craig assigns a fact he's learned to each one. Pet rats, loves D&D, only been arrested once...
When the little stick figures morph into existence on his skin, he watches the lines take shape with rapt attention, ears burning when he realizes what the doodle implies.
The drawing of him and the other boy makes his chest tight, feeling warm and terrified and safe all at once.
"What're you staring at?" Clyde manages to say around the food in his mouth, attempting to lean over the table to look at Craig's hand.
"Nothing," he shrugs offhandedly, hiding the marks on his skin under the table.
"It your person?" he asks, swallowing down the mouthful of taco. "He drawing dicks on you or something?"
"Yup," Craig smirks, uncapping his pen under the table. "Dicks everywhere. I'm just covered in dicks."
"Ew dude, that may be your dream, but I don't want to hear about your kinky orgies."
With a snort, Craig looks back at his hand, putting the pen to his skin and connecting several of the hearts, turning them into constellations.
The embarrassment that Kenny felt when he realized he had drawn the hearts melts away when he sees the lines start to connect them. It takes a few minutes before his cheeks feel incredibly warm again. Star boy has connected the hearts to make constellations and he can barely contain his own heartbeat.
-----
Kenny feels with all of the talking that has been going on between himself and Star boy, that he might be able to broach some more personal conversations.
He had been sitting in his room on the phone with his friend Stan when the other boy started questioning him about Star boy. The sinking feeling of not being able to answer the very simple questions Stan asked, bother him, and he wants to be able to answer them. He wants to know Star boy beyond little drawings and silly pick up lines. After all, they were soulmates.
The blond sits on his bed and pokes at his arm several times with the nib of his pen. He’s been worrying his bottom lip with his teeth trying to figure out how to word exactly what he wants to say. It isn’t that he’s worried that his soulmate will disappear on him again, but he doesn’t want to push the other boy and make him uncomfortable.
Hey Star boy, it’s kinda weird that I haven’t asked you this but I guess I just assumed we were the same age. Ha, I’m eighteen how about you?
Following that statement Kenny draws a eight with a one like it’s his cane and finishes it off with a top hat and a monocle. Kenny doodles to the best of his abilities, hoping his soulmate laughs instead of being upset at the question.
Craig glances down at his arm under his desk, a small smile forming on his lips when he sees the beautiful swooping letters of his soulmate’s words. Rereading them, he clicks his pen a couple times; mind drifting away from the lecture and instead focusing on this new information.
They should have done this forever ago, and he knows it’s his fault they’re just at this point now. He draws a little heart at the end of Princess’ sentence before mucking up his arm with his own atrocious handwriting.
I’m 18, too. January baby. I could be tried as an adult now, should probably lay off the shenanigans.
Craig pauses, tapping his pen against him arm before quickly adding: Jk, I’m boring. I’ve never been arrested. Unlike someone I know. (Here’s lookin’ at you, kid)
The blond scoffs at his soulmate’s response, it’s not my fault I was arrested he thinks before he taps his pen to his skin.
Look here you, it was for t-peeing a teacher’s house and that asshole deserved it.
Kenny, feeling satisfied with his answer and goes on to answer the important part of the question.
I was born in March! You know, comes in roaring like a lion, leaves soft like a lamb or something.
Kenny draws a messy lion sitting on his arm with a tiny little fluff ball with eyes next to it. He thinks for a moment and Google’s the poem that goes with the saying, grinning ear from ear. On his leg he starts scrawling the poem in his best attempt at cursive he can muster.
March roars in like a lion, So fierce, The wind so cold, It seems to pierce.
The month rolls on, And Spring draws near, And March goes out, Like a lamb so dear.
Proud of his work, Kenny takes a picture on his phone.
Feeling the telltale tingling of the other writing on his skin, Craig pulls up his pant leg, seeing the poem standing out stark and beautiful on his skin. The penmanship is beyond impressive, and the smallest pang echoes in his chest at how much work his soulmate must have put into learning to write like that.
Well now you’re just showing off, he scribbles on his arm, hoping his fondness transfers despite his perpetual sarcasm. Where did you learn to write like that? It’s beautiful. Almost like calligraphy.
A blush scrolls across Kenny's cheeks as the words appear on him, knowing that his soulmate appreciates his hard work makes his heart squeeze. He thinks about making up something so not to bum the other out, but he opts for the truth instead.
Starting a relationship based on a lie is never the correct way so he takes a deep breath and starts writing on the part of his arm that has no ink, writing as small as he can so it will all fit.
I was alone a lot growing up so I took my baby sister to the library often. There was this really nice old lady who would come and read to the kids. One day I saw her writing and it was so pretty I asked her to teach me. She asked me why and I told her that maybe if my handwriting was pretty enough, you’d answer me.
Oh, Craig writes out, because he has no idea what else he could possibly say. The extent to which Craig has hurt this person, his person, breaks his heart into a million pieces. How could he have been so selfish, how could he have left the person meant for him so alone and in pain for so many years. What kind of monster was he?
I’m so sorry. I don’t even know how to begin apologizing. I know I’ve said sorry before, but...that’s not good enough. Not for you.
Blue eyes follow the writing as it appears, watching the scrawl as his Star boy apologizes again. Normally Kenny would wave it off, and pretend like isn't a big deal. But he needs to be honest with this person and so instead of pretending, he takes a leap and writes the truth.
To be honest? I know I said I forgive you, but ….I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fully forgive you? I hope you don’t hate me for this. But part of me can’t forget how I spent a lot of time thinking you were either dead or in love with someone else. It broke my heart.
Kenny pauses, his pen still pressed against the skin and he tries to swallow down the emotions in his throat. Star boy could lie to him in this moment and he would never know, but he wonders to himself if the truth will hurt more. But he knows he has to ask.
Is there a specific reason you never answered me? You said you weren’t ready, but I don’t understand what that means.
Where does Craig start. At the very beginning, his little sister’s voice sings in his mind. A very good place to start.
Craig sighs, settling back in his chair and praying to anything that would listen, to the fucking cosmos, that his soulmate would want anything to do with him after this. He switches his pen to the other hand, clicking it a few times before setting it to his skin.
This is a lot. And for the first time ever I’m thankful my friend broke my arm in 5th grade so I can kind of write with both hands. Bear with my even messier writing.
My parents hate each other. They probably don’t really, but they don’t seem happy at all. My entire childhood they fought and screamed and ignored each other, and when I found out about soulmates, that they are soulmates, it confused me. It didn’t make any sense that they would treat each other like that.
He bites his lip hard, taking a deep breath because the noirette has never admitted that to anyone. It hurts. Everything about this hurts, but it’s nothing compared to the loneliness his Princess has felt, so he continues, ignoring how much his hands are shaking.
When I was little, before I ever got your first message, I realized I liked my friend. It was a stupid crush, but I’d hoped that maybe we would be matched, even though it was beyond unlikely. The day he got his first message, I think I cried for hours because it wasn’t me, it couldn’t be me, even if I wanted it to be. And then I kept thinking about my parents and how miserable they were and I thought maybe soulmates weren’t the only ones, maybe we could still be together. I think I wore long sleeves all the time for a year after I saw my first message from you. I couldn’t admit to myself that I could be with anyone but him, but I was young and stupid and so fucking selfish that I didn’t even consider you.
Craig twists his arm uncomfortably to find open space to write, needing to get this out, needing the other boy to understand.
But I looked after a while and I loved everything you wrote. I didn’t want to say anything because of my stupid crush, but I read everything. And the day I wrote back for the first time...I cried. I wanted to help you but I felt like a stranger and I didn’t know what to do, and so I just fucking cried because you were hurt and I was hurting you too.
My crush faded. But you didn’t, you never gave up, even if I was too scared to say anything because I was afraid I’d fucked everything up by being so quiet. I thought you’d never want to talk to me even if I replied so I stayed silent. Until a few weeks ago when we started talking. I’m a shitty person, Princess. I’m selfish and horrible, and that you’re talking to me at all, after everything I’ve done...I don’t have words. I know you probably will never forgive me, but that’s why. That’s the honest truth. And I am more sorry that I never reached out than I’ve been about anything in my life.
It’s like a hurricane of words on Kenny's arm. The sentences flow across his skin like a story and he hangs on every single word. Somewhere along the way Kenny has to stop reading, his eyes full of tears, the pain in his heart too immense for him to continue. Imagining why his soulmate had been so quiet all those years had been torture, he'd come up with a million different reasons why, one of them being almost this exact situation. However, formulating the idea and hearing it confirmed from his soulmate were two different things.
From the moment Kenny learned about soulmates, he convinced himself that there was an unbreakable thread connecting them, an invisible line from his heart to someone elses. Hearing now the truth from his soulmate, makes him feel like that thread could be easily severed if someone tried hard enough. It hurts him to think how empty and unfulfilled his life had felt up until just a few weeks ago and how that could have been his entire life.
Kenny doesn’t want to go back to that life. But hearing about Star boy’s parents and how they were soulmates but fought and caused so much doubt in the other boy, it hurts almost as much as a slap to the face from his own father.
Realistically, he knew about these types of situations, even went as far as to research them when his soulmate had refused to answer him. People who were bound together yet didn’t work, as rare as it was, did happen and the even more rare occurrence of a soulmate deviating and falling in love with someone not meant for them was painful but a truth he had to face. It stung. God, fuck. It stung so bad to see that the latter had been their situation. Kenny forces himself to read the entire thing, reading it over again just to make sure he isn't missing anything or misunderstanding the situation.
He tries to write something on his other arm but he has to stop himself when he realizes it's just a jumble of ugly marks, no real words. Kenny puts the pen down, his hands shaking from the truth. His eyes are full of tears and he has to wipe them away, smudging some of the marks as he does. What can he even say? He's spent so many hours rehearsing how he'd respond had he found himself in this situation, but none of it sounds good enough, not faced with reality. Kenny's shoulders sag as he allows the tears to come, hears his own open sobs in the darkness of the room, and presses the palms of his hands to his eyes.
His soulmate. HIS, had betrayed him. Kenny feels broken in a way he hasn't felt since the last time he allowed his father to lay his hands on him. He thinks of the strength he used to over come that situation and pulls from his inner self to pick the pen back up. His fingers are still shaking as he tries to steady them enough to write.
I’m sorry about your parents, he starts, a tear sliding down his cheek and dropping onto his hand as he writes, Please don’t think this means forever, but I need some time alone. I need time to process all of this.
Craig’s breath catches when he reads the words, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. He expected this, had been waiting for this to happen since he replied, even for years before that. And he fucking deserves it, after everything he’s put this kind and incredible person through. But it doesn’t make it ache any less.
Okay, of course, he writes, surprised that his fingers cooperate enough to pen out the words under his soulmate’s admission. After everything, that’s more than I could ask for. Take as much time as you need. It might not mean much, but I’ll be here.
He waits for something, anything, to appear on his skin.
Craig lies in bed that night, staring at the fading words of the poem on his calf, and knowing he’ll wake up to his skin completely bare.
Chapter 4: Oxygen
Summary:
"I guess we really are soulmates after all, huh?"
The words put his heart in a vice, Craig’s lips curving into a smile despite the sting in his eyes.
"Guess so. If you’ll still have me, that is."
Notes:
Did you want 5k of fluff and flirting?
Here's to hoping you said yes.
We thought about breaking it up into 2 chapters, but it was too important to break up, so enjoy~
(Also check the bottom notes for a treat)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It’s been two weeks of silence.
The words and drawings adorning his arms have been an unwavering comfort for almost ten years, a constant through everything. Each time his parents fought and screamed, every moment of stress and hurt and anger, whenever he broke down alone in his room and sobbed until he could barely make out the glowing stars stuck to his ceiling. When he laughed and had been genuinely, truly happy. This person was there for all of it, a companion burning against his skin, wrapping him in the comfort of silly words and doodles.
Craig feels the silence cracking his walls, carefully breaking down his defenses, and knows he deserves it because he put his person through so much worse.
Tweek and Clyde try to get him to join them on outings, mini explorations outside of their college campus. Heidi and Bebe text and call him, unrelentingly inviting him to coffee, a study date, anything Tucker, Goddamnit just answer us. We’re worried.
Yeah, me too, he thinks, worried that he’s messed up the one truly amazing thing that he was careless enough to let slip through his fingers. Craig has no one to blame but himself.
Even seeing Tweek wander around campus with his roommate, smiling and laughing has him aching, and not because it’s Tweek, but because he could have that with his person if he had only looked beyond himself for a fraction of a second and seen what he was doing to his soulmate.
He doesn’t let himself cry because he doesn’t deserve to, doesn’t skip class because this is his own damn fault. He declines the invitations and pleas graciously, blaming being homesick, and throws himself into his schoolwork, always hoping in the back of his mind that he’ll feel the buzz just under his skin and see a message on his blank arms.
-----
It’s been two weeks since Kenny has said anything to his soulmate and it’s taking a lot of his willpower to not write on his arms. It’s almost a reflex and he catches himself with a pen in his hand about to absently doodle a few times.
It hurts to think about his Star boy. Hurts to think about him in love with someone else, hurts to remember all the times he could have used his support and instead, he earned silence from the other. All those times he was dealing with abuse, heartache, even abandonment, Star boy had been giving his support to someone else.
That thought stills his pen, fills him with the same emotions he felt the night he learned the truth and helps him stay silent.
Tweek notices that Kenny is spending an unreasonable about of time in their room. In an attempt to break the blond out of his depression, his roommate takes him to get coffee a few times during the two weeks of silence. The kindness helps Kenny start to ease into healing, his smile slowly coming back. As much as he feels like his soulmate abandoned him, or even as much as he feels bitter towards the person Star boy may have been in love with, it isn't in Kenny to stay angry forever. The more laughter he surrounds himself with, the more company that Tweek and eventually a few other friends in his little group provide him with, the less Kenny can justify not thinking about his soulmate's side of things.
When it was time to rationalize the situation, Kenny had to break down what exactly was hurting him so much. It wasn’t that he was just mad at him for liking someone else, he was upset that he had tried to not only ignore his existence but also replace him. Kenny had felt replaceable most of his life, between his parents and his friends, the only constant for him had been his soulmate. But even those feelings began to fade the more Kenny's arms stayed bare.
How could he blame Star boy? His parents had let him down and he'd thought...he'd been convinced, someone else had been his soulmate. Emotions like that don't just disappear, and as much as Kenny wants to continue to wallow in his grief, he knows it won't do himself any justice. The time he's spent with Star boy after they finally started talking, had been some of the best moments of his life and to just ignore that feeling for the past, well, that wasn't Kenny McCormick.
Forgiveness, that is the mantra he goes into on Friday. It was exactly two weeks and a day since he started his silent treatment and he's trying his best to get over the feelings waging a war inside him. He wants to yell at the other boy, yet at the same time he wants to comfort him, listen to more of his childhood and let him know he's there for him. Kenny wants to tell him how awful it was to ignore him for so long, to give him a small amount of hope with those words then rip them away with years of silence. Yet, he also wants to tell him how much those two words helped him, formed a bond even without his soulmate understanding what he had done, how he'd given him hope.
He doesn't say any of it, instead, he writes the other boy a letter with all of his feelings in it. The good, the bad, the beautifully poetic, and the gross ugly dramatics. All of it, in one letter he never intends to send. Forgiveness starts with allowing yourself to vent, and venting is what Kenny does. It was a technique he'd picked up in one of his classes during high school. Writing a letter you never intend to send was meant to be therapeutic, and when he’s done pouring his anger, sadness, and heartbreak, mirrored by the depth of his love and dare he say borderline obsession with the idea of a soulmate, onto the paper, he folds it up and puts it in an unmarked envelope. Sighing, he feels a little better and slides the envelope into his desk drawer to never see the light of day again.
As he sits on his bed, he gazes at the expansion of skin on his arm and thinks maybe it’s time he tries.
I had a coffee today that tasted like the barista might have put gasoline in it. My roommate demanded they remake it and I swear it looked like he was going to crawl across the counter. He screamed at them and I have never seen this dude so angry in my life. Long story short, don’t piss off my roommate and don’t fuck with coffee. He gets really sensitive about it.
Kenny pauses and adds for good measure, Hello Star boy.
Craig is walking to astronomy when he senses it.
Moving away from the throng of students bustling down the walkway, Craig tugs up the sleeve of his hoodie, the air practically getting knocked from his lungs at the lines of text on his arm. He reads the words over and over, afraid to look away in case they disappear again, and settles under a tree next to the physical sciences building. A pen is ready in his hand before the noirette has time to formulate a thought.
Coffee is a serious matter. I’m best friends with a coffee enthusiast, I get it.
Hello Princess.
It’s almost instantaneous, the reply from Star boy and Kenny feels that same familiar clench in his lower abdomen. The tug of his heart when he sees the handwriting is almost too much, so much that he needs to lay down on his bed to handle the breathlessness that he feels.
A smile is on his face before he realizes it and he’s writing something in response.
I’m more of a fan of tea myself, I hadn’t realized it was such serious business.
The blond runs a hand through his hair before he adds in another line, I’m sorry that took me so long.
Pausing, Kenny closes his eyes and thinks about all of the times he almost wrote to the other boy during those silent weeks. He thinks about how he felt all those years not hearing back from him and he vows in that moment to try not to do this to him ever again. No one should go through that type of pain. They were going to move away from the past and look toward a brighter future, no more clinging to what if and lives before they came into each other's worlds.
Don’t apologize, it’s okay.
And Craig means it. Even though it had been agonizing, he understands why the other boy would want time to figure out where his feelings are, how to proceed with this precious thing between them.
And tea is delicious. I was made to try that cat poop coffee once. Dirty leaf juice is fine by me.
A laugh betrays the blond by falling past his lips without his permission, his fingers tracing the words in an act of rebellion as well. He missed this, his Star boy’s jokes, the fun little quips back and forth.
Kenny smiles softly and puts his pen to his skin, drawing a coffee cup with an X drawn through it then drawing another mug with a tea bag inside with a check mark next to it. He then meticulously draws a frown on the coffee and a smile along the tea mug and he swears somewhere on campus Tweek can feel him dissing coffee. Hopefully that's not true and Kenny doesn't have to worry for his life.
I guess we really are soulmates after all, huh?
The words put his heart in a vice, Craig’s lips curving into a smile despite the sting in his eyes.
Guess so. If you’ll still have me, that is.
Those words do something to the blond's heart that he’s not ready to assign a word to, not so soon after their first real fight. Kenny has started a picture album on his phone dedicated to his soulmate and he deems this moment perfect to add to the others he already has. He snaps a picture of the words and adds it to the folder, happy that he decided to break the silence.
Idiot. What are you low on oxygen up there in space? I waited all those years for you. Do you think you can get rid of me that easily?
-----
Kenny hasn't had much time lately to make friends outside of his eccentric roommate. He's seen Clyde and Bebe a few times around campus, during the two weeks he froze out Star boy; they had helped him really come out of his shell. Even if those times they all seemed like background noise, their voices muffled to the depression, sounding as if he had heard them through cotton plugged ears, Kenny still wanted to try. So when his phone chimes and an invitation is given to join a study group of Tweek's peers, Kenny jumps at the opportunity.
"Hey Tweek," Kenny chimes, offering a smile to the group as a whole. He notices the brunette sitting next to Bebe has been staring since he walked up, so he sits on the other side of her and offers a charming lift of his lips. "Hey, I know you. Didn't we dance once?"
"Oh my God," the girl whispers, still staring at Kenny.
Bebe, the girl with full curly hair next to her leans forward, extending her hand. "In case you don't remember from the random times we've seen each other, I'm Bebe. The one in an advanced state of shock is Heidi."
"Enchanté," Kenny half sings to Bebe before kissing her hand, he notices the jock-ish boy, Clyde, across the table stiffen at that action. It amuses Kenny that Clyde is so defensive, there's no real heat behind his flirting, but he supposes not everyone can tell that. Turning toward the brunette, Heidi, he lifts an eyebrow, "Tout le plaisir est pour moi."
"Bruh," Clyde's eyes narrow at Kenny, an overtly skeptical look on his face.
Heidi bites the inside of her bottom lip to hold back a squeal, eyes not leaving the blond.
"S-so guys, this is Kenny," Tweek interjects, cutting off whatever Clyde was about to say when he opens his mouth. "I invited him to study with us, i-if that's okay. Not 100% sure why h-he's decided to revert to factory setting."
"I just got out of French class, sue me. It's really hard to get out of that mind set." Kenny quips as he rolls his eyes at Tweek playfully.
"Of course it's okay," Heidi manages to find her voice again, bringing Kenny's attention back to her. "It's more than okay. It's perfect. Perfectly okay."
Kenny feels his lips quirking into a genuine smile, Heidi seems like a nice person and he's glad he sat next to her. He chuckles under his breath and turns to Tweek. "I really appreciate it, I don't really know many people. Tweek here was kind enough to let me join y’all." He ducks his head for a moment, feeling a tad embarrassed at his admission. "Sorry if I've been weird, I promise I'm not always this socially awkward. It's been a weird couple of weeks."
Clyde's expression softens a fraction. "Well now, before this whole friendship thing gets out of hand, I have one very important question to ask you," he leans toward Kenny conspiratorially. "What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?"
Kenny blinks at him with a straight face before speaking, "African or European?"
"I officially love you, you're in," Clyde sits back, putting his arm around Bebe. "It also doesn't hurt that you're apparently attractive, and we're quite the beautiful bunch."
It's a rare moment that Kenny is grateful his older brother Kevin is obsessed with Monty Python, since his pop culture knowledge seems to have won over Clyde. The bubble of anxiety that had been building in his chest is slowly settling as the group sits down to discuss their study tactic.
It was nice, getting to know them. He feels slightly bad that he hadn't been fully aware of them before, but like with his soulmate, it was time to live in the now. Speaking of Star boy, Kenny absently draws a little heart on his hand to connect this moment to him, wishing he was there to enjoy the banter flying across the table. Kenny relaxes for the first time in a while and allows himself to get lost in the conversation.
-----
The usual number of clothes that cover every surface of Clyde’s side of the room has easily doubled in the last 20 minutes. Craig is used to it, used to the absolute panic and state of angst that engulfs his long-time friend when he has a date.
“She likes you a lot, you know. You don’t need to throw a full on conniption every time you guys go on a date.”
Clyde’s head snaps around to glare at his roommate over his shoulder, ceasing digging through a pile of shirts. “That’s not helpful, dude.”
With a sigh, Craig closes his book and sits upon his bed, crossing his legs. “Clyde.”
The other boy turns around fully, exasperation and worry etched all over his face.
“It’s okay. Bebe likes you. A lot.”
Clyde runs his fingers through his hair, groaning as he sinks down onto his bed. “But like...what if this doesn’t work. Y’know because we’re not... y’know.”
“Hey,” Craig stands, crossing the few feet between their beds and sitting next to his friend. He’s not always the best with this kind of thing, but the look on Clyde’s face throws any worries he has out the window because he wants to help . “That doesn’t matter. He wanted her to be happy, and you make her happy. That’s all he ever wanted for her. He would be happy that she’s happy.”
The brunet’s bottom lip quivers for a moment before he blinks hard and looks up at the ceiling in an attempt to fight off the tears forming in his eyes. “I know. And I know that. But I’m afraid I’ll never live up to what he was.”
“She wouldn’t be with you if you weren’t, Clyde,” Craig offers a small smile, knocking their shoulders together. “You’re kind of a cool dude. I guess.”
Clyde’s face splits in a grin, even as he wipes his eyes with the cuff of his jacket. “That coming from you is like winning a damn Oscar.”
“I’m not that mean,” the noirette rolls his eyes, patting his friend on the back.
“Token thinks you’re fucking hilarious, so I mean. You can’t be that bad if my soul-mate-skin-bro likes you,” he laughs, tension visibly draining out of him with a deep sigh.
Craig laughs at that, standing and ruffling Clyde’s hair before crouching to grab a water from their mini fridge. “How is he, anyway?”
“He’s great. He and Nichole are planning some crazy vacation in Aruba or some shit, I don’t know,” he makes a face, pulling his ringing phone out of his pocket, and immediately perking up when he sees the caller ID. “Heeeeeeeey Bae Bae~”
With a gagging gesture to Clyde, Craig flops back onto his bed, watching his roommate finish getting ready at warp speed.
“Yeah, I just left, I’m walking to the elevator right now as we speak,” Clyde pauses, brow furrowing. “I am so. See, Craig, tell Bebe I’m walking to the elevator.”
“Hey Bebe, he’s a dirty liar, but at least he’s wearing pants,” Craig deadpans from his bed, picking his book up again.
“See?” Clyde coos into his phone, flipping Craig off and grabbing his keys and heading out the door. “Be there soon, bye. Love you. Get ready for all the cuddles, okay, bye.”
As the door clicks shut, Craig is thrust into silence once again.
He rolls over, dropping his book unceremoniously on the floor and staring across the room at Clyde’s bed and the cork board above it, littered with pictures. Craig is in a bunch of them, from their time growing up together, but most of them are of Bebe. The radiant blond is a focal point throughout the pictures, and Craig tries to ignore the way his chest hurts when he looks at how happy they are, together.
That’s all he’s ever wanted. That closeness and connection with someone, and he can’t have that. At least not right now. Maybe one day he and his Princess would get to meet, to see each other, hold each other, touch…
Craig shakes that thought out of his head immediately, instead reaching for a pen.
You ever feel like a huge asshole?
Not more than a minute later, the pretty script of his soulmate blooms over his skin. Sometimes, why? What’s eating you Gilbert Grape?
Craig smiles, running his thumb over the words on his forearm.
I’m just being salty. What are you up to?
Nothing wrong with being salty, it’s a fun past-time. Just hanging with the squad, we went to get some Grade-A coffee. My friend who attacks unworthy baristas wanted to go back to the fancy place we found.
Craig doodles what he hopes looks like a large body of water, adding a little sign that reads “The Dead Sea, aka what I aspire to be” next to it.
Instantly the letters, LMAOROTF, appear next to the drawing, stretching Craig’s smile into a grin.
Mmmmm coffee. Guess the tea will have to wait.
I feel like my friend would castrate me if I even dared to ask for tea. There’s a pause before another line appears, This kid kinda scares me, no lie.
He snorts at that, setting his pen back to his skin. That’s fair. Anyone who will literally jump a counter to strangle someone over coffee is worthy of fear.
If I ever disappear, you may want to contact my friend and ask where he hid the body. I’m joking of course, he wouldn’t tell you. I’m sure he’d have skipped town.
He props himself up on his elbow, making it easier to scribble across his skin. Damnit, I guess I’d have to become a bounty hunter then.
Oh shit, like Spike in Cowboy Bebop? That’s hot.
Craig doesn’t know if he’ll ever understand how he could be so lucky to have such an absolute nerd be his person. 3, 2, 1, let’s jam *pew pew*
Did you just finger gun me? I think I’m in love. (Also thank god you watch anime)
Anything to make you blush.
Well hold on there Space Cowboy, who says I’m blushing?
Craig could feel the smirk tugging at his lips. No one. It’s just a goal of mine.
Really? Okay, try. Make me blush. I’ll be honest.
That has a warmth settling in his chest, spreading and twisting in his stomach. Oh, a challenge? A gauntlet has been thrown down, fair Princess.
Do you think you’re up to the challenge, Star boy?
Lifting his pen back to his skin, he paused as another message popped up moments later. I’m not easy.
A little thrill runs down his spine at that, closing his eyes and trying to imagine the person who could belong to these words that were driving him wild. That’s a challenge, too.
Holy shit. Was that a sex joke? Color me impressed.
Feeling bold, Craig bites his lip and draws a heart against his skin before penning a reply. I’m just trying to color you pink right now~
I just laughed and my friends made fun of me. You suck.
...I mean.
Okay, now I blushed. Damn you.
That barely took any effort. Maybe you are easy.
Maybe it’s just you.
The damn butterflies in his chest start doing some advanced level acrobatics at that comment, making Craig throw his head back against his pillow with a groan.
I like the sound of that better. I bet your blush is adorable.
And he did. He really fucking did.
-----
Tweek carefully makes his way back to the table, balancing three mugs of beautiful latte art. Heidi catches sight of him and jumps up to help, grabbing her mug and attempting to take Kenny’s before the smaller blond waves her off with his elbow. “I got it, it’s fine. T-thanks, Heidi.”
She beams at him, settling into her seat and looking down at the beautiful swirling heart in her latte. “This place is adorable, Tweek. And I trust you implicitly if you say the coffee is good.”
“It really is,” he wraps his fingers around the mug, relishing the warmth after being caught outside in the chill fall air for so long. “Kenny and I f-found it a little while ago when we went exploring.”
Heidi looks up at Kenny, watching him ignore the two of them completely to stare at his arm. “Well shit, maybe Ken needs the heart latte since he’s clearly a love sick puppy.”
The blond is far away from the conversation as he stares at the words on his arm. ‘ I bet your blush is adorable.’ He tries really hard not to actually blush at that, knowing his friends will see it immediately.
“Shut it, Heids.” Kenny retorts as he looks up from his arm, a smile tugging at his lips. He takes the coffee from where Tweek left it for him and lifts it to his mouth, nodding at the flavor. “I prefer tea but this is the good shit, I have to agree with Twizzler.”
She shoots him a smirk over the edge of her mug, blowing on the coffee. “I don’t hear you denying it.”
“S-she’s right, Kenny,” Tweek giggles, giving the other blond a knowing look. “All you do is look at your arms and g-get this big grin on your face. I tried asking him what he wanted t-to do for dinner,” he leans toward the brunette, rolling his eyes, “it took him like 15 minutes to answer me.”
“Maybe I just didn’t want to hear you suggest Greek food for the millionth time?” Kenny states as he pulls a face, putting his pen to his skin he sends his soulmate a message, trying to hide it from the others. I’ve been told it’s fan-fucking-tastic thank you very much. I have freckles for days.
He smiles fondly at his answer before looking up at the other two. “Don’t act like I’m the only person in history to have a crush on their soulmate, ok?”
“Greek food is fucking delicious, you heathen,” Tweek mutters under his breath, kicking Kenny under the table as he takes a long sip of his coffee.
Heidi smiles warmly at Kenny, patting his hand, “I know, I know. It happens to the best of us. He must be quite the guy to have you so flustered all the damn time.”
Kenny flinches at the action and sticks his tongue out at Tweek, he’s about to retort in full force when he catches the answer to his writing on his arm. ‘Are they everywhere?’
This time Kenny does blush and he covers his face with his hands momentarily, groaning and putting his palm covered head on the table. “He’s going to be the death of me you guys.”
Mustering his courage, he writes his answer on the inside of his arm where his friends can’t see. Oh, you know it. ;)
Heidi and Tweek both shift in their seats, eyeing the words and drawings almost completely covering Kenny’s arms. The brunette grins, tilting her head in an attempt to read a line of text, “Alright Kenneth. Spill.”
“He’s just…” Kenny tries, moving his hand a little to attempt an explanation, “So goddamn romantic?” It embarrasses him to say it outloud, but a little flutter of pride flashes through him as well.
The butterflies in his stomach power through his entire body and manage to get lodged in his throat when he sees the next thing Star boy writes on his arm. ‘ I’d like to see them one day. Them and your blush.’
His mouth opens and closes once, twice, before he finds he’s transformed into a speechless tomato.
Heidi’s eyes widen at how quickly Kenny turns from pink to red. She pats his hand again, the gesture calming before she grabs his wrist and pulls his arm across the table so she can read what exactly made the sandy blond boy flush.
Kenny hits the table, just barely dodging his coffee so not to knock it onto the floor, “Jesus! Heids, what the actual fuck?”
“Oh,” she utters, looking from the lines of overt flirting covering Kenny’s skin, up to his eyes. “Well, well, well, Ken.”
Tweek pointedly looks away, taking several large gulps of his coffee. “D-do I even want to know?”
“If you wanna know how smooth Ken’s soulmate is, then hell yeah you do.”
“God, no. Stop it.” The blond almost hisses at them, tugging gently at his arm so not to hurt her if she decides to keep it.
The smaller blond’s curiosity gets the better of him before Heidi relinquishes Kenny’s arm, reading what looks like the most recent message and feeling himself blush for reading something so personal.
Heidi releases her hold on Kenny, giving him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, Ken. I was curious who could make you blush like that.” The smirk is back, “But I get it now.”
Tweek makes a sound between a laugh and a scoff, shaking his head. “He’s got really s-shitty handwriting, though.”
“He really does, right?” Kenny holds his arms up in front of himself to show them the handwriting since the cat was out of the bag.
He places his one arm on the table and grabs his pen to answer him. So what if they saw this time? It wasn’t like trying to hide it actually worked.
Aren’t you smooth, Star boy? If you play your cards right you can see both at the same time.
With a little squeal Heidi leans back, slow clapping and drawing the attention of people at nearby tables, much to Tweek’s chagrin. “That was peanut butter smooth, Ken. If this boy is half as attractive as you, I’d pay for front row tickets to this event.”
Tweek ignores that last comment, eyes still scrutinizing the writing on Kenny’s arms. “‘Star boy’?”
“It’s what I call him, he’s really obsessed with space.” The boy supplies before chuckling under his breath at Heidi, “I don’t know if I’d want an audience but…” He pauses and wiggles his eyebrows at her suggestively, “Maybe that can be arranged.”
The tingle of writing calls his attention back to his arm and he almost dies at the words on his skin, ‘ I think I’ve got a pretty good hand. A royal flush, just for you, Princess.’
“Jesus.” He blinks and tries to hide it before Heidi and Tweek can see it, but the way they both stare and dart their eyes quickly away, confirm that they’ve seen it.
“‘Princess’, huh? Eric could learn a thing or two from this kid,” she laughs, fanning herself out of empathy for Kenny. “Again, I would drop money. Pay-per-view kind of money.”
Tweek is watching the ceiling fan overhead like it’s the most fascinating thing in the universe. Something is nagging at the back of his mind, something other than the countless conspiracy theories and anxiety and paranoia that constantly lurk there. He turns to Kenny, mumbling against his mug when he brings it to his lips, “T-tell us about him.”
That suggestion takes Kenny's mind off of the words glaring up at him and he laughs, rubbing at the words. “Well, he’s our age, born in January. He loves space and guinea pigs. One time I found this video with little guinea pigs crossing a bridge and wrote the URL out to him and he wouldn’t shut up about it for days.” Kenny smiles absently down at his arm, fingers tracing over some of the words his soulmate wrote.
“He’s incredibly sweet, funny, kind. He has a little sister around the same age as mine and he likes anime as much as I do.”
There were several things in Tweek’s life of which he was absolutely sure: the existence of aliens, the amount of coffee he needed coursing through his veins at any particular point in time to maintain functionality and avoid an immediate headache, and Craig Tucker.
Tweek had known Craig since before kindergarten; he knew him inside and out, had been there every step of the way as the years went on. He had seen Craig at the best and his worst, laughed, cried, and watched the stars with him for years. Even if he didn’t have the extensive background of information filed away after a lifetime of being best friends with Craig, his handwriting would be a dead giveaway.
So as Heidi giggles with Kenny, talking about the romantic things the other blond’s soulmate covers his skin with, Tweek’s entire focus is narrowed to the handwriting he has known since he was five.
Holy fucking shit.
Tweek mentally shoves away the flirting he witnessed on Kenny’s arms, not needing to think about his best friend in that light ever, and instead tries to take a page from Craig’s book and focus on the facts.
All evidence points to Craig being Kenny’s soulmate. Kenny and Craig are both unaware that their soulmates are each other. Craig apparently has a thing for freckles.
Ew, no scratch that.
Tweek figured it out before either of them, and is in a position to help. To bring these two stupid boys together so that Craig can stop internally angsting over the words covering his skin (because of course he's noticed over the years, thank you very much ), and Kenny can finally meet the person he's been waiting and hoping for his entire life.
He just needs to figure out how.
“Sometimes we stay up all night until we both fall asleep writing,” Kenny sighs, watching as Heidi glances down at the writing on his arm.
“That’s so romantic, holy shit.” She mutters.
“Do you think you’ll ever meet him?” Tweek pipes up, tuning back in to their conversation.
That takes Kenny by surprise, his eyes lifting from the marked up skin to turn to Tweek. “I…would like to,” he answers, his cheeks flushing for the third time since they sat down. “He’s just...kinda private?”
“Y-yeah, but,” the smaller boy starts, collecting his thoughts, “but you’re meant to be together. So like...w-wouldn’t he want to be with you, too?”
Kenny rubs his thumb over his hand, a gentle yet sad smile on his lips. He doesn’t meet Tweeks eyes, instead he opts to stare at the scribbled handwriting on his wrist.
“Remember how I mentioned that he hadn’t spoken to me for years?” The taller boy pauses because he knows Heidi hasn’t heard this and it’s clear she’s shocked by the small gasp she emits. “I’m afraid. I don’t want to push him and he leave me again. We already had one fight, I don't want another one.” Admitting that out loud hurts, especially since not too long ago he himself had subjected Star boy to the silent treatment.
Tweek’s eyes grow wide at that, the memory of how hurt Kenny had been when they first met and the subject of soulmates came up, how blank his skin had been the first couple weeks he’d known his roommate. How for two weeks solid he had to babysit a depressed Kenny with zero marks on his arms.
And then he thought of Craig, how he always dodged every question Tweek asked about his person growing up, the far off look in the noirette’s eyes when anyone even mentioned soulmates.
He’s hit with an anger that far surpasses his outburst at the incompetent barista the other day. Craig had ignored the boy sitting across from him for years, and Tweek wants nothing more than to punch his best friend in the face for hurting Kenny like that.
“I think you might be s-surprised at how receptive he m-might be to the idea,” Tweek offers as casually as he can through a twitch, shrugging a shoulder and finishing the final drops of his coffee.
“I don’t know. He told me one of the reasons he didn’t talk to me was this crush he had on someone else. I’m scared I’m just not…” Kenny frowns, his eyes lifting to look at his friends before deciding not to finish his thought. A smile stretches over his lips instead, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s not something I want to think about right now. I’m just enjoying getting to know him, having him back.”
Tweek makes a face at that, dropping his eyes from Kenny’s face to the empty mug between his hands. Craig didn’t get crushes on people. Who the hell could he have had a crush on?
“I think that’s the important thing,” Heidi smiles, gripping Kenny’s hand across the table. “And when you’re ready to meet, you’ll know. You both will.”
Kenny gives her hand a squeeze back and he’s thankful for both of them. “Yeah.” He moves his hand back to his pen and draws a cartoon toilet with a crown on it before chuckling to himself. Royal flush? He writes next to it.
With a smile, Tweek gathers up his mug, returning to the counter for another coffee. If he played his hand right, they would meet much sooner than either of them probably anticipated.
Notes:
In case you were wondering about the url Kenny handwrote out to Craig:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bq9ghmgqoyc
Chapter 5: Discovery
Summary:
He’s tried everything, each plan with a different title, steps, and projected outcome, and somehow these two idiots managed to mess up every single attempt.
Notes:
At long last here is your update. We made it super long just for you to apologize for the wait. Hope you enjoy it! It's 5:30 in the morning but we are hella dedicated.
Chapter Text
Tweek is frustrated.
Scratch that. Frustrated isn’t nearly a strong enough word for this. Infuriated, maybe. Aggravated. Exasperated. Pissed the fuck off.
With a little huff, the small blond scribbles the last phrase into his journal, triple underlining it for good measure. He isn’t sure exactly when his therapy journal turned into a playbook for trying to get his best friend and his roommate to actually meet each other, but after nearly a week’s worth of failed attempts, Tweek thinks he is more than entitled to be exactly that: pissed the fuck off.
He’s tried everything, each plan with a different title, steps, and projected outcome, and somehow these two idiots managed to mess up every single attempt.
Operation ‘Room With A View’ was the most simple and promising. Craig arrived exactly on time to Tweek’s room, ready for class, ready to unknowingly meet his goddamn soulmate. Except said blond mashed his snooze button into a bloody pulp after scribbling all over himself until four in the fucking morning, and missed Craig entirely.
Operation ‘Carrier Pigeon’ would have been perfect. Especially if Kenny had been on time. And it hadn’t started pouring. And if Clyde had actually done the one thing he was supposed to do and told Craig that they were all meeting in the quad. Instead, Tweek was left alone, soggy and irritated, and when Clyde finally showed up, he took one look at the blond and fled.
Similar fates met Operations ‘Dance With Me’, ‘Spread the Good Word’, and ‘You Don’t Just Go To Denver.’ The dramatic irony of the entire situation is wearing on his nerves as each plan fails, and Tweek is about two seconds from stealing Kenny’s arm and writing “Hey Craig, it’s Tweek. You and my roommate need to meet already so he can stop giggling like an idiot when I’m finally managing to get to sleep.”
Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea.
“What’s not a bad idea?” Kenny chimes from over the blond’s shoulder, his eyes skimming the notebook the boy is currently writing in.
“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” Tweek yelps, slamming his notebook shut, the momentum from the movement nearly sending him flying off his chair. Righting himself in his seat and keeping a hand firmly planted on the cover of his notebook, the small blond grips his chest as though that would somehow prevent the heart attack he is probably in the midst of having. “When the hell did you get there?!”
The other boy watches as Tweek nearly meets the floor and laughs, his entire body shaking. “Wow man, is that like your diary? Did I seriously invade your privacy? I’m sorry.” He leans forward and pats Tweek’s shoulder, sincerity in his words.
“I just got home. You seemed really into what you were doing, so I came to check if it was something god awful like...math.” Kenny wrinkles his nose, “Or worse: physics.”
Tweek slumps over his desk with a sigh, tension practically oozing out of him as he becomes one with the desk. “Oh jeez no, that’s not nnngh my thing at all.” He peers up at Kenny, an idea sparking to life in the back of his mind, “Are you taking physics?”
“Yeah, and I hate everything about it. I feel like I’m going to fail,” Kenny grumbles as he walks over and deposits his book bag on his bed and flops face first onto the mattress.
Sitting up, a grin spreads across the coffee fanatic’s face like the damn heavens have finally opened up. “Craig is really good with that. P-physics, I mean.”
“Craig? That best friend of yours you keep bringing up who may or may not exist? Hashtag who's Craig, amirite?” Kenny calls from his muffled position, “Do you think he’d help me?”
Tweek nods before realizing the other blond can’t actually see him. “Yeah, man. I don’t think that would be a problem at all.”
There’s a groan before Kenny’s hands fly up to his hair, ruffling it wildly in frustration. “Fine, I’ll do anything at this point. I feel like my teacher is trying to murder me with all these science terms and equations.”
“I’ll uh, I’ll text him and see if he can meet for our study session...thing,” the smaller boy murmurs, more to himself than his roommate before opening his notebook once again. Maybe he wouldn’t have to remain perpetually pissed the fuck off anymore.
-----
“C’mon, Craig, please?”
“Tweek, I told you, I don’t think I have time.”
The blond huffs out a breath in irritation, tugging at a lock of his hair. “Ngh, you’re being difficult.”
“Hey,” Craig reaches out, easing Tweek’s fingers from his hair, a faint smile barely masking his concern.
“He’s really worried he’s gonna fail, man,” the shorter boy frowns, squeezing Craig’s hand in his own. “You’re...you’re one of the smartest people I know, a-and-”
The taller boy closes his eyes firmly, sucking a deep breath in through his nose. “Fine.”
A smile spreads across Tweek’s face instantly. Operation ‘Craig’s Notes’ is a go.
-----
It is late, really late, and Tweek is attempting to sleep across the room. Kenny feels awful that he's still awake, but Star boy is being particularly amusing tonight.
Excuse me, Kenny writes on his arm under the scribble that is Star boy’s handwriting, But mothman is totally a myth.
You wish. That would help you sleep better at night, appears just under his own handwriting as Tweek shifts in his bed.
The blond holds his hand over his mouth as he throws his head back against his pillow, eyes closing in a quiet muffled laugh. It takes him a moment to collect himself before he’s writing again, Oh please. Next you’re going to tell me that Bigfoot is real and aliens built the pyramids?
I’m ashamed of you. Open your eyes, Princess. Stop consuming government propaganda. A little drawing of the Kool-Aid man accompanies the words with a little speech bubble making him say ‘don’t drink me!’
“Oh my God,” falls out of Kenny’s mouth before he can stop himself, and he picks up his pillow and shoves it over his face as he laughs. When he’s secure in the knowledge that his giggle fit is over, he draws boobs on the Kool-Aid man and an arrow pointing to him. It’s okay, it’s Mrs. Kool-aid. She only delivers the truth. Join us.
Aw fuck, Star boy’s distinct messy scrawl pops up once again. This is what the end of the world looks like, isn’t it? Spontaneous tits on everything. lluminati confirmed.
You’re so cute, Kenny writes before he stops himself, hiding under his pillow again. Maybe if he’s lucky, he’ll run out of oxygen under there and not have to deal with the fact that he was openly flirting with Star boy again.
So are you. I can practically hear you laughing. And, I have to tell you, it’s...really cute.
Freckles are immediately bathed in a scarlet hue as Kenny feels his face heat up. His eyes dart to the other side of the room to make sure his roommate is still asleep. Thankfully, Tweek hasn’t been bothered enough by his laughter to wake up. With a wistful sigh and a dreamy smile stretching his lips, he doodles little hearts around Star boy’s words.
You know, I have the worlds ugliest laugh. I can’t lie. I’m super hot, but my laugh is so gross, man. I snort like a fricken pig when I can’t handle something funny. My friends back home used to give me so much shit for it.
Looks like I’m in luck. Hot guys with weird laughs are my ultimate turn-on. There’s a pause before another line of messy script materializes under the first. That’s bullshit, though. Want me to beat them up? They can get a true ass-whooping to the sound of your laughter. Poetic justice and all that.
Kenny can feel his heart flutter in his chest, and for a moment he’s worried Star boy has finally done it, killed him with his words. He traces the chicken scratch he calls handwriting and lifts his arm to press his lips softly to it. Kenny knows the other can’t feel it, but somewhere deep down inside, he wishes he could.
Naw, it’s okay, he writes. They lost out and I won in the end. I get to have you. So they can enjoy their pathetic excuses for soulmates while I laugh at their misfortune. Snort and all.
Wouldn’t have it any other way. Snort and all.
-----
An hour into their group study session, Kenny can feel his eyes starting to droop. He really needs to figure out a better way to balance talking to Star boy and that weird, elusive sleep thing that even Tweek was telling him he needs more of.
"Sorry, my lab ran long."
Rubbing at his eyes, Kenny glances up from his book as a tall boy walks up to Tweek and starts talking to him. The blond is tired so he barely takes notice, his cheek resting on his hand. But he watches the two of them interact and faintly wonders if that's Tweek’s boyfriend?
He feels a little hurt that Tweek hasn't introduced him to him before now if that's the case, as Tweek made it sound like he hadn't met his soulmate yet. But the way the boy is standing and the questionable amount of space between them has Kenny second guessing that fact.
"Hey, Heidi," he asks quietly, getting her attention. "Who's that?"
"Hm?" she looks up from her notebook, following Kenny's line of sight. "Oh, that's Craig. I'm surprised you haven't met him yet; he's Tweek's best friend."
"His course load is kind of bananas, though," Bebe taps her pencil against the table. "I couldn't do it. No social life."
Blue eyes glance slowly back to the pair; had he assumed incorrectly? It was rare that he was unable to read body language. Kenny nibbles on his pen and watches them. Craig is a pretty attractive guy. Clyde hadn't been kidding a couple of weeks ago when he had mentioned them all being beautiful people.
"Best friends, huh?" Kenny asks, observing the very pretty green of Craig’s eyes and how they seem to light up when Tweek smiles.
Curious. "You sure that's all? "
"Yeah, they're just really close. They've been friends since preschool or something," Clyde mumbles, resting heavily against the hand propping up his head. "They've both got people, anyway."
Craig smiles at something Tweek says, eyes raising and noticing Kenny at the table.
Kenny raises his hand, waving it gently as he offers Craig a tired smile. No one could ever say Kenny McCormick wasn't polite, and he was fully aware that Tweek's best friend was there to do him a favor. What with him failing Physics and all.
"Oh," Craig starts; recoiling slightly at the sharp look Tweek gives him. Play nice. Right. "Hey, uh, I'm Craig."
Tweek’s roommate looks about ready to pass out at the table, but he's...cute. In a conventionally attractive, freckled way. Craig absently tucks his hands in his pockets; suddenly hyper aware of the hearts covering his skin, and not yet ready to share this new part of him with a stranger, let alone his group of friends. Not yet.
Kenny scrunches up his face before yawning. He doesn't mean to, honestly, but he's just so tired his eyes are starting to droop and burn. After covering his mouth, his smile goes lopsided. "Nice to meet you, Craigo," he jokes; Heidi snickers beside him at the nickname which makes him smile warmly. Thank God someone has a good sense of humor at this college. "I'm Kenny."
"Charmed," Craig doesn't mean for the word to come out so deadpan, so he offers a small smile, inclining his head because Tweek asked him to try with his roommate, and he's going to try, damnit.
"Craig has one mood, and it's 'done with your shit,'" Clyde offers with a grin, wiggling his eyebrows. "Don't take it personally."
"That's my special mood reserved for you, Donovan," Craig quips, pulling up a chair and sitting on the other side of Tweek.
Mouth falling open in mock dismay, Clyde holds a hand to his chest. "Rude. "
On any given normal day, when Kenny wasn't passing out, he would be more active in the conversation. But as it stands, he's just quietly listening and observing. He's read the same stupid paragraph four times before Tweek taps him on the shoulder, a look of concern on his face. "Kenny, I t-think you should go back to the room."
Kenny grumbles something before he blinks too hard, his face squished against his palm. Heidi shoots Tweek a look before she's aggressively pointing to Kenny and mouthing 'My God, that's cute.'
“I feel bad,” Kenny starts, his eyes closed. “Craig, you came here to help me and I’m just, useless right now.”
“It’s fine, dude,” Craig remarks, fighting back a yawn of his own. “We can always reschedule. Now that I can place a face with the name, maybe it’ll motivate me to get off my ass and actually tutor you.”
Kenny laughs at that, peeking one eye open. “Well, to be fair, Tweek has been trying to get us to study together. I blame you.” He laughs as Craig rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to make the executive decision to blame Clyde,” he props his chin on his palm, ignoring the scoff from his friend across the table.
Tweek shakes his head with a bemused smile on his lips and shrugs one of his shoulders as the table erupts in a soft fit of giggles.
Kenny’s hand itches. He isn't sure why, but he has the urge to write on it. But Kenny doesn't want to share his Star boy with people he barely knows, so he just continues to long blink absently and smile gently at the look Clyde is giving Craig.
"I'm about ready to tap out, too," standing and stretching his arms to the ceiling, Clyde flips his textbook shut. "There's only so much braining my noggin can take a day."
"That's a stretch."
"Shut your whore mouth, Tucker, I know where you sleep."
Craig stands too, shouldering his backpack, ignoring Clyde. "Are you guys gonna come?"
"Yeah, I'm going to meet up with Eric," Heidi neatly packs her bag up, helping Bebe gather her vast assortment of colorful pens and highlighters that have migrated across the table. "And you guys have a date, don't you?"
"Damn straight we do," the grin on Clyde's face could overpower the sun. "Dinner and a movie."
Tweek turns to Kenny, brows knit in worry. "Ready to go?"
"Huh, what?" Kenny looks up at them and realizes all at once that he had somehow fallen asleep mid-sentence. He feels really stupid, but it’s his own fault and he knows he really should sleep when normal people do. Kenny packs up his stuff and wobbles a little as he stands, putting his hand up to signal he's fine when Tweek tries to steady him.
"Ah, sorry. Just didn't sleep much last night," he chuckles before watching the others leave one at a time. He notices Craig hasn't left yet and assumes he's going to walk with Tweek back to their room.
Kenny feels like he's intruding on something, feeling a bit weird, almost like a third wheel.
"Me neither," Tweek replies like it's nothing unusual, following as the three boys head out of the library.
"And fire is hot," the eye roll is evident in Craig's voice. "Are you at least drinking less coffee these days?"
The smaller blond huffs out a laugh. "I'm down to nnnnnh, maybe six cups a day."
"Jesus Christ, dude," Craig mutters.
Something crawls around in Kenny’s stomach; a little knot of anxiety, maybe? This type of thing happens often when he feels out of place. Sometimes it even happens when he's with Stan and Kyle; it's as if these people have some type of bubble around them, one he wouldn't be able to penetrate even if he wanted to. He feels... lonely, and absently he rubs his thumb over the hidden hearts on his hand.
He shouldn't feel alone anymore. He doesn't have to. Even when he's with people, he's never really alone now. This gives his confidence the little boost it needs to have him attempt conversation again.
Kenny smiles and offers a tiny laugh, "I saw him take a Red Bull and throw espresso in it once. I'm worried for your health, dude."
Craig's head snaps around at that, normally passive face flipped to worry like a light switch. "Are you shitting me? You're still doing that?"
Kenny watches the two of them and he can't remember the last time he's felt so confused.
"U-um," Tweek starts, coloring rising on his cheeks, "Well shit, I forgot my laptop at the library, I'll c-catch up!" The blond turns on his heel, hurriedly rushing back toward the library doors.
"You didn't have your laptop!" Craig turns and yells after his retreating friend.
"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" Tweek shouts back, voice cracking as he disappears around the corner of the building.
With a deep sigh, Craig turns to Kenny, closing his eyes. "That little shit, I swear to fucking God."
Kenny stands stock still, watching the other run away before he turns to the taller of the two.
"Does he... do this to you often?" he asks, seeing as Craig looks clearly put out and annoyed by the other's antics.
"You have no idea." Craig opens his eyes, regarding the blond carefully, "You're gonna be next. Keep an eye on him."
"Heh. I'm used to people abandoning me, nothing new." Kenny jokes, the smile on his lips not really reaching his blue eyes.
They stand awkwardly for a moment, Craig out of his depth and playing with the lint in the pockets of his hoodie for something to do. "Are you going to the dorms?"
"Yeah, I'm in the round building. Forget what it's called. You?" He turns on his heel and starts walking toward the dorms, pausing to raise an eyebrow when Craig doesn't immediately follow.
"Same, yeah," Craig catches up to Kenny in several strides, easily falling into step next to him. Something about what the other boy said is bothering him and the longer he thinks about it, the more it does.
"He likes you a lot, you know," Craig doesn't look at Kenny, but continues anyway. "He has really bad anxiety and trust issues, but he feels really comfortable around you, so I don't think you have anything to worry about. He's just...skittish."
Kenny muses over Craig's words, his hands in his parka pockets as they walk. Craig must really care about his best friend to be defending him like this when he isn’t around. It's nice, but a little uncomfortable. Kenny wants to be close to Tweek, he's his roommate after all, but he often holds people at arms length.
Less chance to get hurt that way.
"Mmm, I'll keep that in mind," Kenny responds, his eyes watching the sky as they walk. He smiles softly as he thinks about writing to his soulmate about the waxing moon tonight. "Hey, what's your opinion on constellations?"
A smile pulls at Craig's lips. "They're really cool," he says quietly, concealing that his reply is the understatement of the year. Looking at Kenny, he notices the way his face lights up looking up at the darkening sky. Everything about him is serene and fond and Craig is struck by how much he hopes that one day someone will look at him like that.
"I never really thought about them too much until recently, to be honest,” Kenny supplies, kicking a rock as he walks down the quad pathway.
"I mean, I did. I would look up there and think about how someone else out there was looking at the same thing. Blah blah, you know. The same old song and dance." Kenny laughs and rolls his eyes, "But I never really looked at them." Lifting his hand, he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm even thinking about taking an astronomy class next semester. Silly right?"
Craig shakes his head, a quiet ‘nah’ on his lips. "I don't think so. I'm taking a couple astronomy classes this semester, so maybe I'm biased."
Maybe Tweek was right. Maybe he and Kenny could actually get along, even just as casual acquaintances. Not that Craig would give his best friend the satisfaction of knowing he was right. "There's a lot of history to them, and some of them overlap across different cultures. Small world, or some shit."
Kenny nods his head back and forth as he thinks about what little he knows of the heavens. He's been learning most of it from Star boy, his obsession clear in the words painted across his arms. "Aren't most of them Greek? I'm ashamed to say I only ever knew about the constellations connected to the horoscopes."
"A lot of them are, yeah," Craig joins Kenny in looking up at the sky, tiny pinpricks of light glittering down at them. "My sister is obsessed with horoscopes. She about had a meltdown when she found out her sign and her soulmate's sign weren't compatible. I had to remind her that they're soulmates and that's kinda what actually matters."
Lacing his hands behind his back, Kenny walks in a lazy fashion, face turned upright to watch the glittering stars above him. Kenny had a new appreciation for them now, seeing the beauty where he used to only see vast darkness. "Your sister and mine sound pretty similar, she really enjoys reading the horoscopes in the newspaper." He pauses before a gentle smile pulls at his lips, "Ahh, a friend of mine really knows a lot about stars and I feel like I should be playing catch up." Pausing he turns to Craig, interested. "Oh, so you can help me pick a class that doesn't bore me to tears!"
Craig is itching to check his skin for any new messages from his person, all this talk of constellations reminding him of the drawings on his hand. "And all of them are fascinating," Craig smirks through his words, "Well, except Dr. Brenner's class. That's dull as fuck."
"Well I certainly want to avoid anything dull as fuck," Kenny jokes, a coy smile stretching across his lips as he glances over at the other boy.
It's nice. The conversation is long past feeling forced, and Kenny actually seems to be enjoying Craig's company. Kenny takes a moment to actually observe the guy he's walking with. He's tall, but not lanky. His hair peeking out from under his hat is dark, which compliments his green eyes. He remembers how they lit up when he spoke to Tweek and they're doing that again talks about the stars.
They seem to sparkle when he's talking about things he likes, Kenny internally reviews. He's not too hard on the eyes, either.
It's a shame that this prime guy isn't Tweek's soulmate; it was clear just watching them that he was interested in the shorter blond. That might be a fascinating story to ask about one day. But for now, Kenny enjoys listening to the low rumble of his voice. Kenny wonders if his soulmate would be anything like Craig, someone entranced with his hobbies as much as he is. How nice, he thinks to himself.
They reach the dorm before Kenny knows it, and he finds that he doesn't really want to go inside. But it would be weird to linger outside with no real reason to be, right? The blond thinks about what the other said regarding his sister and decides, what the hell, instead of heading toward the door he stops and starts talking again, "I'm an Aries, what sign goes good with those?"
"I think Sagittarius and Leo are supposedly the best," Craig shrugs a shoulder. "But I could be wrong. I don't have the stunning expertise of my kid sister."
Are we really talking about astrology? Craig muses to himself, suppressing a smile. "I'm an Aquarius. Bearing water like a boss."
If another stupid thing comes out of his mouth, Craig may take a vow of silence.
"Ha. Leo,” Kenny laughs at his private joke. Of course, one of the only people Kenny's ever come close to even liking outside of his blind devotion to his soulmate was his friend Leo. But Craig doesn't need to know this, so he just shakes his head.
"Did you just make a water bender joke? Because everything changed when the fire nation attacked." Another laugh floats into the air, Kenny's shoulders shaking with the power of it. "Wow, we're such nerds."
"I didn't intentionally, but I wish I had," Craig's teeth flash momentarily in a hesitant grin, watching Kenny's boisterous laugh shake his frame. "We really are. Never been a cool kid, no intention of starting now, so might as well own it."
"Boy howdy, do I know that feeling." The blond calms himself, a few chuckles following the original fit, but he's associating his current attitude with lack of sleep. Toeing the ground for a moment he nods toward the dorm.
"I should... probably go to bed. I have classes tomorrow." Something inside is nagging at him again, not exactly wanting to leave.
Craig nods, shifting his bag on his shoulder. "Me too. And an essay I've been putting off."
They both pause, opening their mouths at the same time.
"Goodnight."
"'Night."
Shaking his head for what felt like the millionth time tonight, Craig looks down at his shoes. "We're in the same building."
Kenny stands there incredibly awkwardly for no good reason. He rocks back and forth from his toes to heels before letting out a huff in an amused manner. What the heck was wrong with him?
"Oh, well shit. Damn." Kenny goes to reach for the door handle the same time Craig does and they bump shoulders. He blinks as his cheeks dust a light pink and he snorts out a laugh. Backing up, Kenny puts his hands up before gesturing, "After you, my dude."
Craig's eyes linger a second too long on the blush spreading over the bridge of Kenny's nose, making his freckles all the more visible, before he grips the door handle and pulls it open, gesturing for the blond to enter. "After you."
A loud exasperated sound erupts from Kenny before he's walking through the door. "Okay, okay, I suppose ladies first,” he jokes before walking in and hitting the up button on the elevator. Why was he so flustered? And sure, it was sweet of him to open the door, he'll give the taller boy that.
Watching the elevator numbers drop down to the first floor, Craig allows a smirk. "Before things get awkward again, what floor are you on?"
"Oh ho, so the boy admits it was awkward, huh?" Kenny chimes, his hands coming out of his parka to wave his wrist delicately in the air.
"I'm on the fourth floor," he adds, leaning against the wall next to the elevator, smiling directly at Craig. "You?"
His smirk only grows at that. "Seventh. With Clyde."
Craig catches sight of ink swirling over Kenny's wrist and disappearing under the cuff of his parka, and doesn't know why the sudden wave of melancholy washes over him. Of course the charismatic blond was in contact with his soulmate. Anyone who had him as their person would be stupid not to.
The blond catches Craig looking at his hand and realizes belatedly that perhaps he saw his marks. It's strange, the look on the other boy’s face seems almost sad? Maybe his soulmate doesn't talk to him? Kenny knows that pain deeply and he feels the need to say... something? Anything.
Kenny holds his hand up and offers a tiny smile, "Caught ya." He waves his hand and shrugs a shoulder. "You okay?" He wants to be delicate about this but isn't sure how to go forward.
So he starts small.
"I know some people don't talk about their soulmates so shut me up if I'm weirding you out dude, but man. Sometimes it's weird, don't you think? Having someone that's supposed to be your perfect match?" He's babbling. Kenny knows he is and it's something he does when he's nervous. The marks on his hand itch and he rubs his palm over them for strength.
"It's also lonely right? When they don't answer?" Kenny's fishing at this point, trying to figure out why Craig just… seems so sad?
"Yeah," the single word coming out much softer than Craig intended. He clears his throat, absently tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie, "I was quiet for a while and felt horrible. Still do. There was just a lot going on in my head and I wasn't in a position to share that burden with someone else, you know?"
10....9....8....
"Have you met yours?" Craig isn't sure why he asks, but he does, despite the unfamiliar ache in his chest.
Ouch. Kenny knows how it feels to be on the receiving end of that. His soulmate might actually be mad at him, no wonder he's upset?
He hums under his breath and shakes his head, watching the elevator drop. "No. He hasn't been around long, to be honest."
7...6...5...
Against his will, Kenny’s lips up turn in a fond smile as he thinks about Star boy. "What about you?"
3...2...1…
"No," Craig turns his head to face Kenny, their eyes meeting for a moment. "But I want to."
Ding.
He doesn't flinch outwardly, but the sound catches him off guard. "After you," Craig repeats after several people filter out of the elevator.
"Thank you, kindly." Kenny mutters, holding the side of the elevator to allow Craig to walk inside before it closes.
They have this weird chemistry going on and Kenny can't put his finger on what's really happening here, it’s like there’s a strange magnetic pull between them. But he can't deny that his heart skipped an extra beat when Craig had said he wanted to meet them. His soulmate.
"Is… it weird of them to not share their name?" Kenny questions, insecurities flaring now that he was talking with someone about it. "Our soulmates, I mean. Is it weird?"
Craig pokes both buttons, thinking the question over. "No, not necessarily. I mean, the connection is based on more than a name or a face. I don't know his name, either."
Craig realizes that it's the first time he's had any sort of conversation about this outside of his own head, and is cursing the elevator moving.
"I wish I could ask his name," Kenny mutters, feeling that ball of anxiety rising in his chest, clawing at his insides. "I'm so scared he's gonna up and disappear again and I won't even know what to call him?" His eyes are sad but he's trying to swallow the pain down, the years of abandonment he felt. "Aha, but you're right! What's in a name, a rose and all that jazz."
The elevator and Craig's mouth open at the same time, cutting off his words before they can fully form on his tongue.
Craig wedges his foot against the elevator door, the nervous energy from this entire situation buzzing just under his skin. "Do you want my number? I mean," catching himself, Craig glances down at his well-worn chucks, "in case you need anything, or have physics questions. And if you need advice on dealing with a severe caffeine addiction."
The shorter boy is taken aback by the gesture, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. It's surprising, to say the least, that Craig would want to exchange numbers after just meeting. But, he smiles despite his brain screaming at him that he shouldn't flirt. But hell, the ball of anxiety has faded with the gesture and Kenny's charisma has kicked in full blast.
"I didn't expect you to be so forward, Craig. But sure," The blond pauses and looks around; all he has is his book and some pens and highlighters. He doesn't have any paper on him. He sighs and plucks his pen from his pocket and bites the cap off, putting it on the end of the pen.
As Craig tells him the number, Kenny writes it across his arm. He'll explain to his soulmate later that this is a friend’s number; and hey, maybe he'll surprise Star boy and give him his number?
The joint excitement from both that idea and getting Craig's number causes his cheeks to darken. "I'll text you later, hopefully Tweek isn't dead from caffeine overdose." Kenny heads out of the elevator and turns, offering his new friend one last smile.
"This was fun. Text me back and we can talk about the stars some more. Lord knows I need someone to hold my hand through this," Kenny laughs and waves, taking a few steps backwards.
Craig realizes his hand is still raised in a salute after the elevator doors close once again, leaving him alone in the metal box. He slumps against the wall, hitting his head against it several times as the floors ding by.
He finally connected with his soulmate after so many years of complete silence on his end, and just like that he was drawn to someone else. Again.
"Fuck," he groans, his voice echoing in the empty elevator. When the door finally dings open, he drags himself down the hallway, digging his keys out of his backpack, and unlocking the door.
Craig likes solitude, likes the comforting silence that comes with it. Right now, it's deafening.
Dropping his bag unceremoniously on the floor, he shrugs out of his hoodie, all but rips his hat off his head, and plops down on his bed. What was he going to do. He loves this instant connection with his soulmate, feels connected to another person in way that is so rare to him that it's overwhelming in the most wonderful way.
And then he thinks of Kenny. This new guy in his life, who he just officially met hours ago, with his stupid beautiful smile and laugh. The way he wants to grow for his person, the way he looked at the sky like it was the most precious thing in his life. He barely knows the blond at all and had been hell-bent on hating him on principle, but now. Everything that passed between them felt like more than just friendship. It was on par with what he felt when a message danced over his skin, and the thought terrifies him to his core
Craig lies back against his sheets, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. "Fuck. " Maybe he should talk to his Princess. Maybe that would help snap things into perspective, make him realize that he has someone perfect, and just because a cute guy that checked every box Craig didn't even know he had popped up doesn't mean that he should hopelessly chase after him and abandon the other boy. Again.
Opening his eyes, Craig fumbles for the pen he now keeps next to his pillow, uncapping it and raising his arm to-
He freezes.
His own phone number stands out against his tanned skin, written in the easy script that's become second nature to see littering his skin. A second line of text appears just under the series of numbers.
Sorry, I made a friend today and we did a phone number exchange.
Air isn't reaching his lungs, every thought in his overactive mind screeching to a blinding halt because his phone number is on his arm.
Kenny.
Everything snaps into place: the instant draw, the familiar feeling of coming home, everything about the blond that he had noticed. Craig doesn't know when he starts laughing, or when the tears now sliding over his cheeks formed, but he can't stop, doesn't want to.
The relief that rushes over him is something he's never experienced before, the fondness and adoration that have been building over the years and reaching a critical mass now have a physical person to attach to, to put a name and a face to the boy who has poured beautiful words over his skin and bared his soul for years without receiving anything in return.
He's hurt Kenny, has caused this beautiful person to ache and fear rejection when all Craig had to do was get over himself and pick up a pen.
Craig will do better. He has to. Because now that he's seen him, met him, met his Princess in another castle, he gets it. He gets everything that he's been told his entire life about finding that person the universe designated just for you, and it makes him feel weak and empowered all at once.
Raising his pen, he hovers the tip over his skin, not knowing what to say, how to even broach this subject. Because what if Kenny doesn't feel the same. What if the blond didn't experience an ounce of what Craig did, or hated what he saw, who Craig really is outside of his witty words and pretty pictures.
Letters materialize on his forearm before he can question anything else, and he sits up, clutching his arm as if the knowledge that it's Kenny on the other end of these exchanges will make it disappear.
You know. If you want my number, I could always give it to you. No pressure, Star boy! Promises, promises.
Kenny is laying in bed, his phone on the charger. He curses at himself for leaving it in the room in the first damn place. Sighing, he puts Craig's number in his phone and quirks a little smile as he types out a text.
[ Message Sent: Kenny ]
Hey nerd, it's Kenny. I told you I'd text you.
Craig wants to tell him, to make this whole thing come to fruition, so they can figure things out together, but he's scared in a way he doesn't know he's ever been. Kenny's love is so fierce and seemingly focused on his soulmate, on him, that that fear of not being enough paralyzes him.
What if it's only because the blond thinks they're supposed to be together and any emotions are a direct byproduct of that. That none of his feelings have anything to do with Craig at all.
We could. This is just a lot more...personal.
He stares at the ink on his skin, hoping Kenny doesn't pry too much. Picking up his phone, he opens the text on his screen, tapping out a quick, [ Hey yourself. And so you did, well done. ] before he can think too much about it.
Fuck, he doesn't want to lie or pretend that he doesn't know that his person, whose every line Craig has transcribed into notebooks over the years, is Kenny. But, as childish as it sounds to his own mind, he's not ready. He will be one day, hopefully sooner than later, but for the moment he wants to keep the air of anonymity as a shield.
Chapter 6: Introductions
Summary:
He can hear Tweek practically throw his phone, a loud grumble obviously muffled by a pillow accompanying it. There’s a beat before Tweek’s back, “Craig. H-how long have we been friends?”
“Is this a trick question?” Craig says, realizing that he actually said it out loud a moment too late. “I mean...forever, dude. We’ve been friends as long as I can remember.”
Notes:
Aaaahaha. Ha. Aaahahah ha aha.
God, wow, we're so sorry this took us almost a YEAR to update????
Time soars by at light speed when you're being An Adult and trying to get your shit together, on top of writing on the tons and tons of story ideas that keep popping up.
That being said, it's almost summer, we both have some more free time, and in addition to more frequent updates, we also have an entire discord server full of stories that we've been working on and can't wait to share with you guys.
Thank you so much for being patient and sticking with us for so long. We love you all <3
Chapter Text
Craig doesn’t sleep.
How can he with this new-found knowledge tearing him apart and making him finally, finally feel whole all at once. He’s even grateful when Clyde and Bebe come stumbling into the room just after one in the morning, a mass of tangled limbs and messy kisses that stop immediately when they notice Craig sitting very awake on his bed with his notebook open. After a minute of awkward apologies and Clyde ducking out of their shared space to ‘take matters into my own hands, if you know what I mean , the three of them plop themselves in front of the television and play Super Smash Bros. until Clyde can’t keep his eyes open any longer and gets himself launched off their stage repeatedly by Bebe.
By the time the other two curl up together in Clyde’s bed, groggy goodnights exchanged all around, Craig feels the faint pull of sleep just behind his eyes and crawls into his own bed. Even after a couple hours of button mashing and easy conversation, the tight coil of anxiousness in his chest is still there, twisting every thought in his mind while Clyde and Bebe snore quietly five feet away. The thoughts tearing up his mind are so loud that he almost doesn’t understand how they can sleep so soundly. Craig doesn’t wish this feeling on anyone, but right now he doesn’t want to be alone.
Rolling over to face the wall, he pulls his notebook out from under his pillow, carefully opening it and reading the words that he’s poured over so many times that he can practically recite them from memory. Kenny’s words. His thoughts and ideas and shitty pick-up lines, and knowing who they belong to makes this pain, this weight of how badly Craig fucked up by not saying anything sooner, all the more poignant.
But he reads them, the words silent on his lips as he flips through page after page. He’ll figure this out, somehow. He has to. Because Kenny, his Princess, deserves so much more than what Craig has given him, and that determination carries him off into an uneasy sleep.
-----
The staccato buzz of Craig's phone shakes him from his restless sleep. Fumbling for his phone, he tries to tap the snooze button, noticing that it's a full 46 minutes before his alarm is due to go off. With a groan, Craig shoves his phone to the corner of his bed and rolls back toward the wall.
The little vibrations don't stop. They're so frequent and insistent the he finally cracks an eye open to glare at the device.
15 new text messages. Even for Tweek, this is excessive.
Craig pokes at the screen, dialing Tweek and sandwiching the phone between his ear and the pillow. He counts one ring, two, knowing that Tweek will only answer on the third.
“Hey man, w-what took you so long?” comes the voice on the other end of the phone, Craig pulling the speaker away from his ear. Tweek’s volume is a tad louder than normal, which is the first red flag to the situation, if the barrage of texts hadn’t been.
"It's like seven, dude," rolling onto his back, Craig shoots a glance to the still fast asleep Clyde and Bebe across the room, "I don't have to be awake 'til almost eight. What's up?”
“Uh, yeah. Sleep, who does that? N-not me. Sleep is for the weak,” Tweek sounds more off than normal, his volume control not being the only issue. He’s rambling and Craig can’t help but feel slight panic building in his chest.
“Tweek, how much coffee have you had?” he keeps his tone even, devoid of judgment.
“So many, t-too many. That isn’t what this is about. Nope, not this. We need to talk, Craig.”
“Because that’s not at all suspicious or worrisome,” Craig deadpans as he turns onto his back and stares at his ceiling. “Talk to me, Tweek. What’s going on?”
“Hypothetically, if you knew something that was important a-and you knew it would c-change someone’s life, but it wasn’t your information to tell...” Tweek pauses in his rambling, “Hypothetically, of course.”
“Totally hypothetical,” Craig mirrors, his brows furrowing. It is obvious this isn’t hypothetical at all and it worries him further.
“Would.. would you tell them? Y-your friend, I mean?”
A cold wave of anxiousness rushes through Craig, the seconds of silence ticking by and making the chill coursing in his veins build and build.
“Uhm...” He doesn’t know what to say. Yes? No? Some combination of the two where he could have it both ways, telling Kenny and exploring this new thing between them in person and shielding himself to make sure this was real.
But...how would Tweek know that he knew? There’s no way he knows that Craig spent the night tossing and turning after his epiphany, so whatever he’s calling about is different. Safe. Maybe. Hopefully.
“Probably,” Craig finally manages to answer after clearing his throat, “if it’s really important, you should tell them.” Fucking hypocrite.
He can hear Tweek practically throw his phone, a loud grumble obviously muffled by a pillow accompanying it. There’s a beat before Tweek’s back, “Craig. H-how long have we been friends?”
“Is this a trick question?” Craig says, realizing that he actually said it out loud a moment too late. “I mean...forever, dude. We’ve been friends as long as I can remember.”
“I’ve seen your c-chicken scratch, recently,” Tweek starts, his voice dropping to more of a whisper. “On s-someone. You know, your someone.”
Everywhere within Craig that was cold is suddenly replaced with fire, his face heating up and burning in an instant. How could Tweek know?
“W-what’re yo-“ No sooner do the words leave Craig’s lips than the realization hits him like a brick wall. “Oh shit.”
Tweek has seen his handwriting his entire life. Tweek is roommates with Kenny. Tweek ditched him and Kenny yesterday.
Purposefully.
“Oh shit,” Craig sits upright in his bed, eyes unable to focus on anything because Tweek fucking knows.
“Noooo shittin’ in the room, Tucks. Nuh uh, none-a that,” Clyde slurs from his bed.
“I was trying to be covert,” Tweek sighs softly into the phone, “I didn’t want t-to just tell you, I wanted you two to figure it out. So I kept trying, to get you guys in the same room!”
“How long have you known?” pushing off the bed, Craig stands and starts pulling on discarded clothes from the floor and his chair. “Where are you?”
“Oh you know, in my room, where Kenny’s asleep,” Tweek grumbles quietly before pausing, “wait, so you want to meet up? I can be at t-the quad in ten minutes.” He answers before there's a longer pause with a very hushed, “I’ve known for like a month.”
Craig lets out a mumbled stream of curses, tugging on his Chucks. “Yes, please. I can meet you downstairs or something. Whatever. I feel like my brain is going to explode.”
“Let me just sneak out of here w-without waking up the Princess.” Tweek jokes, not realizing the effect it has on Craig’s heart.
Fuck.
-----
He’s not sure exactly how many times he’s paced back and forth in front of the dormitory doors, but the moment Tweek exits through them, Craig is in front of him.
“Hi. I don’t know what to do,” the words almost overlap in their hurry to leave Craig’s mouth.
“Wow, hold on there,” Tweek jerks as his eyes go wide, “first off, personal space, Craig.” The blond shakes his head before continuing, “second, coffee f-first, then we fix your love life.”
Taking a step back, Craig runs both hands through his hair with a frustrated groan, “I know for a fact you already had coffee, but fine. Coffee. Immediately, before I literally yank all my hair out.”
“You’re not good to anyone bald,” Tweek chides as he leads the two of them out of the dorm building. They walk in comfortable silence until they reach Tweek’s prefered coffee shop. It’s early, but open like any good shop would be. Tweek orders his usual and sits down slowly, and maybe he doesn’t realize how life altering this entire thing is? Not with how slow he’s being.
“Aren’t you gonna get anything?” Tweek asks over the mug, inhaling his roasted bean juice aroma like he isn’t giving Craig an aneurysm.
“I think I’ll puke if I drink anything,” Craig drums his fingers on the table, knee jiggling aggressively. “Tweek, what do I do?”
“Well obviously, knucklehead, you tell him. Why is this a life altering conversation? I t-thought this was celebratory coffee?” Tweek stares at Craig as if the taller one of them has lost his damn mind.
Craig gawks at his best friend, mouth opening and closing twice like a fish. “Tweek,” he starts, taking a deep breath and swallowing thickly so he doesn’t actually vomit all over the table, “why would I be panicking if it were that easy?”
Tweek shrugs a shoulder, taking another sip of his coffee, “I dunno, man, you get anxious about some weird stuff sometimes.”
“Me?” He can’t believe this. He can’t believe that this tiny asshole who he’s known to freak out about everything and nothing his entire life is lecturing him on spazzing out. “This is huge, I can’t just...I can’t just tell him, okay?”
“No, not okay. Why the fuck not?” Tweek sets his coffee mug down before turning to Craig. He can feel Tweek’s fingers brush against his shoulder before gripping, watching as Tweek squints and leans closer. “He’s obsessed with his soulmate, Kenny is already so over the moon for you. Why wouldn’t you tell him?”
“Yeah, his soulmate. That’s exactly the problem,” Craig leans into Tweek’s space, trying to get him to understand. He needs to understand. “It’s not me. I mean it’s me, but he doesn’t even know me. He’s...he’s built up this person in his mind for years, and I don’t want it to be me because he thinks it’s supposed to be.”
Tweek’s left eye twitches, and Craig thinks that he finally gets it, when he suddenly feels a pain on the side of his head. “Did...did you just hit me?” Craig grits out, rubbing his ear.
“Yes! Yes I did, and I should do it again. You know, it was super shitty of you to ghost on Kenny all those years. And now you’re being selfish? I oughta pop you a good one, Craig Tucker!”
Dodging another swipe at his head, Craig sits back in his chair and runs a hand over his face. Deep breaths. Deep breaths and avoid any other incoming smacks from Tweek. He could do that.
“I know. I know, and I hate that I did that to him,” dropping his hands and looking Tweek in the eye, Craig sighs, his remaining defenses falling in front of his best friend. “What if I let him down? His entire fucking life all I’ve done is let him down.”
“Well you’re n-not doing him any favors right now are you? You can only go up from here,” Tweek snaps before sighing and melting into his chair. He shoves both hands into his hair and groans dramatically, “Craig. H-honestly, if you don’t tell him, how will you ever know?”
“I just...I just want him to like me because I’m me. Not because we’re soulmates,” Craig’s voice comes out as a whisper, shaking his head. “And now that I’ve met him in person maybe...I dunno, maybe I have that chance.”
Tweek sits back up slowly, his eyes narrowing to near slits. He doesn’t say a thing in response, just grabs his coffee and downs the entire mug before sitting it down. “I can’t tell you what to do Craig. But my advice is to talk to him.”
“What, like you and Thomas?” The sarcasm rolls out of Craig before he can fully keep it in check. “He lives two hours away, Tweek. I don’t wanna hear it. Hypocrite.”
Aqua eyes go incredulously wide before the corner of the right eye starts to twitch. Craig knows he shouldn’t have said that, but he is being a hypocrite. Pot. Kettle.
“You,” Tweek starts before stopping, pushing both palms onto the table, his chair sliding back as he stands up, “are an asshole.”
“Game knows game, I guess,” Craig deadpans, watching Tweek shove the chair back in and leaving the table. “Where are you going?”
“Back to bed, you incredible dick,” Tweek turns on his heels before shaking his head, arms raising. “I’m not about to sit here and hear this bullshit. Either tell him or d-don’t. But leave my soulmate out of it.”
-----
“He has to tell him. He has to,” Tweek tugs at a lock of hair above his ear, twisting it around his finger in lieu of ripping it from his head. “I-I mean I get it. I get why he’s apprehensive and everything, but the whole thing is his f-fucking fault in the first place!”
A voice calls out from the speaker of Tweek’s phone, it’s calm and collected and sends a soft shiver down Tweek’s spine. “I know, I know. But I do sorta understand where he’s coming from? Shit, I mean, it’s his fault, but he just wants to make sure Kenny likes him, right?”
“Yeah,” sinking onto a bench in the quad, Tweek watches Craig storm out of the coffee shop with a drink carrier stocked with three drinks. Bebe must be there too , he thinks to himself, his stomach twisting uncomfortably at their conversation from fifteen minutes ago. “I know. Nngh, God he’s a good guy, he’s just such an idiot sometimes, you know? It makes me wanna punch him in his stupid face.”
“Wait, didn’t you actually slap him earlier?” Thomas chuckles on the other end when Tweek moans out loud, “d-don’t, nng, remind me, I’m a jerk.”
“No, you’re passionate. You believe in people. Fuck, Tweek, you just want him to be happy, which makes you a good friend.”
“You’re delusional, but sweet,” Tweek’s cheeks light up at his own words, Thomas’ easy tone quelling some of the mounting nervousness running through him. “I just wish I could help him see that if they just talked that things would be okay...”
“Are we calling this one Operation: Dumb Boys?” Thomas jokes, his laugh filling Tweek’s chest with an emotion he tries not to think about right now. “Really, I guess you’ll just need a solid plan of attack again. It was fun plotting the last ones. Even if they failed, kinda.”
“Well, they met. Even if Craig’s a dumbass,” pulling a leg up to his chest, Tweek rests his chin on his knee and wraps an arm around his leg.
“I-I mean,” Tweek starts, fiddling with a loose string on his well-worn jeans and tries not to think so damn much for a fraction of a second, “maybe if we actually like...ngh, like if we met up we’d be able to figure out something that would actually work.”
Tweek wonders if he said the wrong thing when the other side of the phone answers him with silence. He's about to speak again when Thomas comes in loud and clear, maybe a little too loud, with his answer. "That's a great idea! If that's what you want, to meet up. We can do that, I'd love that."
Thomas is muffled suddenly and Tweek can only imagine the other boy covering his own mouth so not to continue sounding so eager.
“Really? I mean. I mean, yeah, man. Let’s. Yeah,” Tweek sits up a little straighter at that, nerves threatening to build to a point where he can’t contain them. But Thomas sounds just as nervous, excited even.
“Let’s...let’s meet up.” Because it is time and Tweek refuses to be called a hypocrite again by one Craig Tucker.
The silence is back but this time Tweek understands why when he feels the familiar sensation of writing on his skin. He looks down to see an address before he hears Thomas talking. "I figured you'd be ahnshit more comfortable? At maybe a coffee shop? I googled this one and it has really high ratings."
It’s one that’s fairly close by, and there’s no way that Thomas would even know that Tweek’s been meaning to take the mile walk there to check it out, but it makes his stomach flip regardless. “Yeah, man, that sounds...really great.”
"Not that I don't enjoy these phone calls, because I do. But I'm going to need to finish my work up if I'm making a two hour drive before noon. I'll see you soon, Tweek!" The end of his sentence sounds so happy that Tweek's toes curl in his shoes as he ignores the coil of happiness building in his own abdomen.
“Bye,” Tweek says, even though the line is already dead. He tucks his phone into his pocket and pauses when he sees the words on his arm. Running his fingers over the familiar script, Tweek bites at his lip. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Craig is right. And Thomas has been more than patient with him.
Nodding resolutely to himself, Tweek rises to his feet and starts back toward the dorms, determined to help his asshole best friend and finally take his own advice.
-----
Thomas hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting Tweek in person. He’s had endless beautiful nights of conversation, from conspiracy theories to television shows, and every pop culture reference in between. He’s enjoyed Tweek’s personality. But, always, from an arm’s length.
He knows his soul mate has trust issues. He knows that Tweek has had therapy, because they’ve talked endlessly about their common ground. Thomas, in his earlier years, was diagnosed with Tourette’s. Something he’s been balancing medication and therapy to overcome. Tweek, well he’s had his own issues, panic attacks coupled with crippling anxiety. Somewhere between the lines of both diagnoses, they found comfort in each other’s support.
So Thomas has never pushed, never demanded, never pleaded with Tweek to meet him in person. He’d asked, which as a reward for his ongoing patience, had eventually gained him a telephone number scrawled across his forearm.
Long drawn out conversations followed about everything and nothing, sometimes until five in the morning, others brief, when Tweek needed him the most. A comforting voice to match the soothing writing across his beloved soulmate’s skin.
Thomas always promised to be there, at arm's length, until Tweek was willing and open to meeting in person.
And today is that day.
They’d come in the past, discussions of meeting up that had ended with Thomas meeting Craig Tucker instead of Tweek Tweak. Piercing green eyes judging him as he sipped his coffee, instead of aqua watching him with what he hoped would have been comfort and love. Thomas and Craig, over the years, had become friends through these almost's, and Thomas thinks perhaps this time he may face Craig again.
He’s sitting by the window, fingers twitching against the porcelain mug as he waits patiently. Thomas has made sure to take his meds, has on his best ’not trying too hard’ outfit, and picked the best shop he could find. All to equate a sense of comfort for Tweek, all in the hopes that this time he’d be face to face with the person he had fallen in love with over cursive.
Each time the little bell over the door chimes, Thomas can’t help the way his eyes instantly dart to the door, nerves and hope roiling in his stomach. And each time it’s not Tweek he feels himself sink a little lower in his chair.
His arm tingles seventeen minutes after noon, familiar handwriting appearing against his skin. Only it’s not words. Or rather, it was a word, hastily crossed out until it was illegible. A tiny Sorry appears a moment later, and something in Thomas’ chest clenches.
Maybe this was just too much. With school on top of living with a new person and Craig being a stubborn ass, Tweek is overwhelmed, and this...well, this is supposed to be something to comfort him, not add to the dumpster fire of bullshit, as Tweek likes to refer to it.
Thomas pulls out his phone to check for any missed calls or texts, anything to help ease the sadness starting to well up in him. Because this time he really thought he would come, this time he-
“Holy fuck, I’m so sorry.”
Thomas freezes. His heart skips a beat, maybe two or three before his head snaps up, staring at a boy with wild aqua eyes and even wilder hair.
Tweek.
“Before you say anything, I-I’m so sorry, man. Oh my God, I got off at the wrong bus stop and then I had to walk further than I would have had to if I walked in the first place,” Tweek sinks into the seat across from Thomas, hands gesticulating along to his rapid-fire story, “a-and by the time I managed to get someone who would just tell me where the fuck this place was instead of telling me to use my phone, which NO, location services are a goddamn coverup, I just...I was embarrassed.”
Tweek fidgets with the cuffs of his sweater, folding his hands in his lap before taking a deep breath and meeting Thomas’ eyes. “So...hi.”
It’s a whirlwind of movement and speech and Thomas expects nothing less from the tangled mess of a boy in front of him. He can’t help but smile the entire time, his lips twitch, frozen in a half upward pull.
Thomas’ eyes watch every single little movement, in which there are many, that mystify and hypnotize him in a way he hasn’t previously known was possible.
He’s beautiful, Thomas thinks before catching himself, realizing he’s been quiet the entire time.
“Oh, hi,” He offers, small and polite, before his smile grows larger against his wishes. “You’re here.”
Tweek’s shoulders go rigid as though the sudden realization that he is in fact here catches up with him all at once. “Y-yeah...” he mutters, a smile twitching over his lips as a bit of tension eases from his frame, “I’m here.”
Thomas recognizes the look of borderline panic, it’s almost identical to the way he would assume Tweek looked from the sound of his voice.
It’s become a reflex of his to draw little circle patterns on his hand with the tiny pen he keeps on himself at all times, when ever he knows Tweek is panicking. This time, even in person, is no different. Thomas removes the pen from his pocket and draws a few small circles on his hand, quietly smiling up at the blond as he watches him.
Thomas can see Tweek’s hands fidget in his lap, his thumb reflexively following the dark circles appearing on his hand with each swipe of Thomas’ pen.
Tweek’s shoulders lower and he releases his bottom lip from his teeth, openly looking at Thomas. Seeing him. “I’m sorry this took so long.”
It's relaxing to know that what would work to comfort Tweek before can still work now and Thomas sits the pen down when Tweek looks fully ready for the conversation to start. He shoots Tweek a minute smile before shrugging his shoulder, "It's okay, I've always said we're running on Tweek time. I said I could wait, and shit I meant it."
Thomas bites at his bottom lip, working his tic into the conversation, but still self-conscious that it exists at all. He touches the circles on his own hand, tracing one to help calm his own beating heart.
Tweek’s lips curve into a hesitant smile before an anxious crease furrows his brow. “I just...I’m sorry it took me so long,” he licks at his bottom lip, the smile working its way into his lips sticking this time, “Tweek time can be a fucking nightmare.”
“I don’t know about that, I’ve grown quite fond of Tweek time,” Thomas adds with a cheery smile. The waitress saunters over at that point, two drinks already in her hands as she sits them down.
“I, um, I took the initiative. I hope you don’t mind? I’ve heard you talk enough about your coffee preference I figured I could order for you?” The nervous energy returns, Thomas knowing how important a brew can be to his soulmate.
The boy across the table, Tweek, his soulmate, opens his mouth with a faint sound, surprise coloring his features. He snaps his mouth shut a moment later, twisting his fingers into his hair and tugging it gently before tucking the unruly strand behind his ear. "Thank you, Thomas..."
“I just wanted to, fuck — you know, make this easier anyway I could?” The tic presents itself once again and Thomas wills his mind to calm down so he can control it better. “So...Craig and Kenny,” he asks, hoping if he pulls the attention off of them, Tweek will be able to calm down, and maybe calm himself in the process.
"Craig and Kenny," Tweek repeats, picking up his mug and clinking his nails over the ceramic before taking a sip. His eyes go wide, pupils dilating and quickly goes in for another drink. "Jesus this is good," Tweek murmurs against the rim, inhaling deeply. "It just tastes like good, not the first rays of sun over a goddamn foothill, or the laughter of a child or some shit, but..." lowering his mug to the table once more, Tweek keeps his hands pressed firmly to the warm cup, raising his eyes to meet Thomas', "Thank you."
There is a beat before the hand is back in Tweek's hair, assaulting his scalp, "God, and I just keep thanking you and apologizing. You drove nngh two hours to listen to me bitch about my best friend being a jackass, a-and me to repeat the same two phrases over and over."
Thomas feels his fingers twitch, he wants so bad to take Tweek’s wrist into his hand and guide him away from pulling his hair. But he knows that would be invasive, and he would never want to make Tweek feel shame or embarrassment for things he can’t control. Instead, Thomas nods softly taking his mug into his hand.
“Of course I did, I’d drive further if I had to.” He takes a sip of his drink before continuing, “and I think the issue with Craig and Kenny is that Kenny lacks the same advantages that Craig has. He knows about his soulmate, but Kenny doesn’t. I think it’s fair to let it play out, but if Craig steps out of line, in a way- that abuses that power- I think that’s when you step in.”
Thomas wants so bad to let the bundle of nerves across from him know that it’s okay, so he tries his best to exude calm, hoping it’ll catch on. “And Tweek, it’s okay. I’m just happy to be having this conversation in person.”
Tweek’s hands gingerly release the strands in their grasp, settling once again on his jeans. “I can’t imagine why,” he starts, quickly shaking his head and amending his statement, “I-I mean, I get why because me too. Or, me, but about you, not me. I get enough of me.”
As much as Thomas can clearly see how nervous Tweek is, his words sometimes running together in such a rush that he doesn’t know if he would be able to understand them if they hadn’t been talking for years, he isn’t shying away from eye contact or being himself. Those two things send a little thrill of confidence though Thomas.
A charming smile dares to cross his lips, that confidence giving him the slight boost he needs to try and attempt to flirt. “I don’t think I could get enough of you,” Thomas tries, hoping the small little quip doesn’t derail everything they’ve worked for to get to this point.
"Oh, trust me, man, you could," Tweek raises the mug to his lips again, taking a long drink of his coffee. "I'm a lot, and I know it. My parents are crazy, I feel like I'm crazy half the time," rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, Tweek shrugs a shoulder, "and I probably am. T-there's a lot to be freaked out about, the world is a mess..."
Tweek's eyes meet Thomas' dead-on, blinking several times before continuing, "...And I'm just realizing that that was incredibly sweet of you to say, a-are you flirting with me?"
Thomas raises his hand, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. His eyes glance toward the window as he tries to contain the nervous energy inside him from triggering another tic. “If I were, would that be ok?”
A hesitant but bright and genuine smile cracks Tweek’s face, laughter bubbling from his parted lips. He nods frantically, seemingly unable to stop the fit of giggles that wracks his entire body. “G-God, yes that’s fine, JesusChrist,” Tweek manages to get out, and if Thomas likes the pink flush that’s taken over the other’s cheeks a little too much, he doesn’t say anything.
-----
Kenny stares at his arm, face scrunched in the same grumpy expression he’s held since he woke up this morning. It’s been a particularly bad day. The kind where you just can not, no matter what you do, shake the grumps. Now, Kenny has tried to shake it, he tried hydrating, he ate some food, even watched some of his favorite YouTube videos. But no amount of Jenna Marbles was going to lift this terrible-no-good-bad day rain cloud, from over his head.
The blond lifts his pen and writes a simple, I’m having a bad day, across his arm before he tries to deep dive back into YouTube again.
A small line of messy handwriting appears under Kenny's words.
Do I need to slay a dragon on your behalf, fair Princess?
Kenny smiles briefly as he presses the pen to his skin, Not a dragon, but perhaps an entire kingdom?
He’s sure he should clarify, but he doesn’t, instead he just presses his cheek against his open palm, scrolling through his Twitter feed.
The tingle across his arm shoots goosebumps down his side. So your teen angst has a body count, huh?
A chuckle leaves Kenny’s lips, but he doesn’t write back, not yet. Instead, he picks up his phone and texts Craig.
[Hey dude, are you free?]
Kenny waits, before he puts down his phone and grabs his pen. I don’t know, I’ve just felt pretty down today. I’m thinking about asking a sorta-new-friend to hang out. Wetting his lips, Kenny adds: I’m just nervous I guess.
Is there anything I can do?
There is a pause before several messages appear in rapid succession.
I know I wasn’t always there before. But I’m here now.
I’m just some skin away.
...that sounded a lot better in my head.
Kenny presses the pad of his finger against the skin, tracing the words. He feels his heart skip a beat before he writes underneath: It sounded fine, I like it.
I don’t know? I don’t even know what’s bothering me honestly. That’s why I thought hanging out with a sorta-new-friend, may knock me out of it?
It could. Human interaction can be moderately okay sometimes. A little heart takes shape on Kenny's arm, several little stars circling it. I’ve been overthinking stuff recently and felt...weird too, I guess. But I get it. And I’m here if you want to talk, Princess.
Kenny’s phone vibrates from its perch on his knee, the screen lighting up with a message from said sorta-new-friend.
[Does staring at the ceiling count as free? Because if it does then I’m America.]
Kenny laughs for the first time all day, raising his eyebrow at the weird statement Craig’s texted him. Before replying, he turns his pen back to his skin and smiles softly as he writes.
Thank you Star boy, it means a lot to me to see you say that.
Kenny draws a little heart at the end of his sentence before picking his phone back up and shooting off several texts.
[You’re a fricken nerd, dude.]
[Good thing I too, am a nerd.]
[Wanna do something tomorrow? I feel like it’s too late to be asking anyone to entertain me now, but hey, tomorrow is a new day right?]
The little blinking dots flash on screen as Craig types. And stops. And starts. Only to stop again a moment later. Craig is probably trying to think of a snappy comeback, trying to assert his nerd dominance or some shit, and Kenny snorts at the mental image of his new acquaintance T-posing before dropping his phone to his bed.
Kenny can feel his eyes start to flutter in the silence of his room, Tweek still not back after he sprinted from their dorm hours ago to God knows where. The tingle is back on his skin, Kenny blinking blearily as he raises his arm to see a new line of script.
I’m glad it’s you.
The blond scrubs at his face with his palms, sleep threatening to put him to bed after such a long day. But the words on his arm make little sense to his hazy mind, and he wants to ask, so he does.
Whatcha mean?
That you’re the one on the other side of this. Not everyone is this...fuck, I can’t think of the right word. Wonderful?
It makes me want to be better. So I can be better to you.
Kenny feels the warmth drip down his cheeks, his vision blurring as the tears spill down onto the writing in ugly droplets. He isn’t sure how to respond, his heart clenched so tight he feels like it’s in a vice grip. And it’s fitting, because this person on the other end of these messages has so much power over him. With a few scribbled sentences, Star boy has completely lifted his mood and made him so happy he’s speechless.
This type of validation is something he never knew, but wished, he’d have one day. And to see it? A hiccup leaves his throat as he covers his mouth, trying to stop the soft sobs. It’s stupid to be crying, but it’s tears of happiness so maybe he’ll let it happen, just this once.
It takes a few minutes for him to compose himself enough to write back.
You’re going to be the death of me, Star boy. If you’re going to yank all the oxygen out of the room, maybe warn a guy first.
Well, shit.
That was definitely not the intended outcome. Did I just develop a super power? Should I call the cops?
Kenny feels the laughter bubble out of him, he can’t stop it. Great, now he’s crying and laughing! Tweek is going to come home at any minute to a hysterical Kenny, and there’d be little to nothing the blond could do to stop it. Kenny lays back, his head squishing into his pillow as the last bit of giggles leave his body. It’s nice, this back and forth between them sends him soaring. Kenny turns on his side, his cheeks practically on fire from all of the over stimuli.
Don’t call the cops, I’m sure I’ll survive.
That’s a hell of a super power, maybe be careful with it, what would you do if I was suddenly gone?
You can’t see it, but I’m making a sad face at the thought of that. Think of that one crying emoji. That’s me right now. Star boy’s words stand out on Kenny’s skin, a quick doodle of said emoji appearing next to a scribbled Exhibit A.
Oh my god you’re such a nerd.
Kenny writes before he closes his eyes, he doesn’t want to fall asleep, but he’s feeling all this exhaustion catching up to him. Ima sleep, don’t worry. I’m still here. Just, unconscious. He manages to write, though he isn’t sure how legible it is.
I will resist the urge to draw all over you while you sleep , Kenny reads between his drooping eyelids, a smile spreading over his face when another line materializes on his arm: Sleep tight, Princess.
Kenny’s phone buzzes next to his head the minute his eyes fully close, and it can wait until the morning. He’s perfectly content to have Star boy’s words be the last thing he sees before he drifts off into a deep sleep.
Chapter 7: Ghosted
Summary:
Kenny bites his bottom lip and grabs his pen, unsure if this will work because he's never tried to draw anywhere else. He pulls up his shirt and writes something on his chest over his heart.
"Go ahead and claim what's yours. You already stole this anyway."
Notes:
Another update? And not another year later????
Consider this an apology for us pulling a Danny Phantom and going ghost for too long.
Chapter Text
Though it hasn’t been long since Kenny and Craig started talking through text messages and occasionally running into each other in person on campus, Kenny has started to feel like maybe he knew Craig in a past life. Maybe it’s strange how much he talks to Craig. It’s started to rival the sheer amount of time Kenny spent writing and drawing to his soulmate. They fall into a pattern, almost a routine of daily conversation, and Kenny is struck by how easy it is to talk to Craig, even if his new friend outwardly gives off a vibe of indifference.
To be honest, Kenny should have known better, what with Tweek and Craig being best friends. Any person that Tweek trusted couldn’t be so bad. His roommate was not one to throw his trust around lightly; after all, Kenny’s been thoroughly briefed about the untrustworthiness of the government and pretty much everyone else.
Apparently, Tweek at some point gave their group Kenny's email and phone number. It took a hot second to get used to, but now it feels normal to wake up, write something on his arm, switch to his phone to text Craig and Heidi before getting breakfast with Tweek. After spending so many years feeling alone, having friends who want to talk to him warms Kenny’s heart. His little circle of friends is growing.
He has to admit, it’s a nice routine.
He isn’t used to checking in, he’s never needed to before. Kenny was always just there if his friends growing up needed him, and when they didn’t? Well, he’s not sure how much they noticed his absence. So when Kenny drags himself back to his dorm room after spending a couple days in the library cramming for an exam the number of messages on his phone surprises him when he finally turns it back on. Worried texts from several people welcome him on the glowing screen, his eyes glazing over from the shock of sheer emotion that courses through him. People actually caring about his well being is not something Kenny is accustomed to. He opens each text, tapping out apologies for ghosting the world and worrying his friends, and each reply Kenny gets only makes the smile on his lips grow.
[Sorry Heidi! I'm not dead I just had an exam.]
Almost immediately she answers back, [Kenneth McCormick don't you scare me like that! No one could get through to you and Tweek didn't even know where you were! I'm going to slap the taste out of that pretty mouth of yours if you ever do it again. Okay, love ya! See you later!]
The text leaves Kenny staring at his phone bewildered before a smile slowly creeps across his face. Someone worrying about him...was a really sweet feeling. So much so that he almost feels bad for feeling good.
Tweek’s worried texts follow a similar pattern, but with heightened levels of concern, and many more question marks. Kenny owes the most explanation to his roommate, what with disappearing to the library and hibernating there.
[Hey, hope you're okay, please check in]
[Dude???? did you fall off the face of the earth?????]
[Just keep me updated on if you're okay okay?? Please???]
Kenny stares at his phone, his chest feels tight at all the attention. This little group of people had quickly become something more than a study group.
[Sorry Tweek, I had a really hard core exam I was cramming for and I forgot that I have to warn people before I disappear. I owe you a coffee? A sorry coffee? Soffee?]
Last, he checks the one he had been putting off until the end. Kenny feels the worst about not answering Craig, since their talks had become such a high point in his daily life.
It's a series of messages, ranging wildly in length and topic, but several of them stand out among the bad puns and astronomy jokes.
[Did i say something wrong? That was a bad joke. shit dude i'm sorry]
[you ok? Tweek is freaking out that you didn't come home last night. Gotta say I'm worried too, I haven't heard back about your opinion on space whales]
[I really do hope you're okay. All evidence to the contrary, but I do care.]
[morning. checking in again. be safe.]
Kenny's heart feels like it’s stuttering in his chest and he takes in a deep breath, looking away from his phone as he tries to will himself to calm down. Something about Craig makes his chest tight, and the feeling seems to be mirroring the way it did that day in the elevator. He tells himself it's because of their daily exchanges, that Craig just got used to talking to him so often. That's all. They're friends and friends worry about each other. Kenny takes another slow breath, his face feeling hot as he places his palm over his cheek.
Absently Kenny rubs at the spot on his face and feels guilty that he's been ignoring his soulmate as well. He meant to tell him he was going silent, but every time he sensed a tingle on his arm, he felt guilty that he had probably missed whatever had already faded from his skin.
The guilt claws at him harder as he feels this strange warmth in his chest, pushing through to his skin to dust his freckles in a field of darker scarlet.
He'd answer Starboy after he talked to Craig, it was only right. He'd give his soulmate as much attention as he asked for after he texted his worried friend.
[Craigo! No man you didn't say anything wrong. Sorry, sometimes I go ghost like that. You know, like Danny Phantom, except I’m not fourteen and my parents didn’t build a very strange machine.]
[Uh, but yeah. I do that, mostly when I have a really hard exam to study for.]
Kenny feels the need to add more to that statement like how no one normally cares if he's gone, but he doesn't. Instead he sends another text regarding Tweek.
[And don't worry about Twizzler, I sent him a text already. I'm glad I didn't give him a heart attack.]
The space whale comment gives him pause but it also makes him laugh, covering his mouth while he rereads it. He lays back in his bed and starts texting Craig the most ridiculous thing he can think of.
[I think I'm terrified of whale dick and the idea of space whale dick makes me scared to ever leave my house. Buuuuuttt.... I think space whales like, create clusters of stars? Like they're just swimming in space, hit some shit with their tails, and boom. We have the big dipper.]
After typing out his message, Kenny closes his eyes. Laying his phone on his chest for a moment, he grabs his pen and decides that is a cute enough idea to draw it on his arm. But before he does he feels a pang of worry, guilt, and a mixture of nervousness that makes his stomach clench in a painful way.
Kenny steels himself. He hasn't looked at his arms in days, and he isn't sure what's there or what's faded. Moving his sleeves up, his eyes grow wide at the sheer amount of writing.
It starts as a neat list running down the inside of his arm from wrist to elbow, but thoughts and drawing branch off from there, completely covering his arm like a sleeve. There's a star just at the base of his thumb, the triple underlined words START HERE next to it.
So that's where he starts.
You may be busy or mad or something, especially after I was silent for so long, but I didn't want you to miss what I said. It occurred to me that these fade, so here is your daily recap.
Class was awful today, I really hope you got some sleep last night. It was really nice talking to you, but I feel bad that it's so late. Don't you have class???
I think I'm powered almost entirely by Monster at this point. I'm a disgusting disgrace.
You okay?
I don't really have room to ask you that, actually. I left you hanging for years...
I'm sorry, Princess.
A collection of little doodles of planets and flying saucers break up the text before it starts wrapping around Kenny's arm.
Captain's Log, Star date [insert star date]: My Princess is still in another castle. I fear he will shun me after I did not return his words for many years. Alas, I will push forward, confident that some stupid thing I'll write will make him laugh and return to me. Either that or he's too busy. College: what a shitshow. Until then, I will continue to write to him so that he doesn't miss anything. [aerosmith swells in the background] Lunch today was meatloaf. This ship needs a better chef.
A droplet of water splashes against freckled skin, tears sliding over Kenny’s cheeks, down his jaw until they drip unceremoniously onto his arms. The smile stretched across his face is the brightest and most full of love he could ever imagine seeing on his features.
This person, his Starboy, must have had traced this message everyday for it to stay there as long as it did. The idea fills him up until he can’t handle it anymore and he feels like he’s going to explode with energy. His entire body lights up, every nerve ending is sparking with emotions, with tingles of warmth.
The butterflies beat their imaginary wings against his rib cage until he feels like he could vomit from pure emotional overload. Covering his mouth, he sees that the end of the writing has a note: check the other arm.
Kenny’s afraid to do so, afraid of how much more he can fall for this invisible, amazing person. This boy who writes sonnets of the stars and draws masterpieces across his skin.
It was worth the wait, he tells himself, almost choking on his laughter as it bubbles out of his chest. He was worth the wait.
The other arm is a mess of drawings, doodles and little shakily drawn sketches of ninja stars and galaxies, old symbols for planets and stars. There in the middle is a messily scrawled sentence, looking horribly out of place among the tiny universe on Kenny's arm.
Non-dominant hand here. Can't write for shit. A for effort, maybe, followed by a tiny heart at the end of the words.
I think I'm in love with him. The realization hits Kenny harder than he thought it would. It terrifies him, the idea that he could be in love with someone he hasn't even met. But this person is so goddamn perfect that he can't help but feel this way. His fingers trace the words and drawings, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
I wish it was him touching me, his mind supplies, and that intrusive random thought causes his stomach to clench, warmth pooling low in his abdomen.
Kenny bites his bottom lip and grabs his pen, unsure if this will work because he's never tried to draw anywhere else. He pulls up his shirt and writes something on his chest over his heart.
Go ahead and claim what's yours. You already stole this anyway.
Several floors away, Craig stares up at his ceiling, listening to Clyde ramble about class, being late for work (" Again? You think I'd learn by now. "), and his goddess that is Bebe, when he senses it.
It's not so much a touch as a chill that erupts over his skin, like the faintest exhale over his heart. Lifting his shirt, his eyes widen at the letters on his chest, face flushing as he reads and rereads them.
"Oh shit."
Craig's attention snaps to Clyde, blush deepening at getting caught. But he appears to still be safe, his roommate only throwing a mild fit over not being able to find his missing shoe.
"Last place you saw it?" Craig asks, lowering his shirt and sitting up on his bed.
"On my foot."
Both boys look down at Clyde’s foot as though the shoe would materialize.
"Fuuuuck," Clyde flops down onto his bed, covering his face with his hands. "I was right here, laying here, and I kicked them off and-" he extends his leg out, eyes following a possible trajectory for a flying shoe. "A HA!"
Craig smiles as his friend runs to the other's closet and pulls a shoe down from the top of the wardrobe, "Well done."
"Welp, I'm outtie. Bye loser," Clyde beams, tugging on his shoe as he sprints out the door in a whirlwind.
Craig waits until the rampage that is Clyde Donovan has disappeared from earshot down the hallway before he stands up and crosses the room to the full length mirror on the back of their door. Making eye contact with his reflection, Craig reaches back, pulling his shirt off and over his head to better inspect the words on his skin.
The blush is back in full force, his fingers pressing into the skin and knowing that it was Kenny who wrote them.
Kenny, who had been silent for days and who Craig thought was mad at him wasn't and just had a test. And both this message on his skin and the text on his phone confirmed it. The relief is palpable.
He quickly grabs for the pen on his bed, uncapping it at staring at himself in the mirror. Craig raises the pen, looking down at Kenny's words with a grin on his face. Fuck.
Consider mine claimed, as well.
Kenny folds in on himself, his shoulders crunching forward as he holds his hands over his chest. He's tucked into a tight ball of excitement, because the words written on his chest feel like they're written on his heart. His body feels like an electric current is igniting his senses.
Fuck, even his hair feels sensitive to the touch.
Kenny feels a shiver crawl up his spine, his lips parting, tongue wetting the soft flesh of his bottom lip before he's gnawing nervously at it again. He wants so bad to talk to him. To hear his voice. See his face. Feel him on his body.
Kenny’s fingers ghost over the words on his chest again, his breath shallow as he wills himself to calm down. He wants to respond. He needs to find something smart or witty or romantic to say. But all he can think is how he wants him, wants his Starboy in a way he's never wanted anyone before.
His shaking fingers grasp the pen and he's so god damn nervous he doesn't know how to handle it. He writes along his collarbone, closing his eyes and trying not to let himself die from embarrassment.
Every time I feel your writing show up- I wish it was you touching me.
I kind of am, Craig writes back quickly before he can change his mind. The dark ink stands out on his skin, just under the jut of his collarbone.
It would be so easy to tell Kenny the truth, to write his name on his own skin for Kenny to see and put the pieces together. The anxiety at the thought is sharp in his chest, but the words over his skin bloom into warmth.
Not yet. Soon, but...not quite yet.
I wish that too, though, Craig continues under his last line of ink. I want to touch you.
Kenny’s fingers brush the words over his skin and he feels the flesh heating up at both the meaning and the soft touch. His eyes dart around the room quickly. Tweek isn't back yet and this is a good time for him to jump up and lock the door, which he does, but not before putting a sock on the door knob. Just in case.
Kenny is thrumming with energy, he's never done this before, not with another person. And if this goes the way he hopes it does, he's about to either be really happy or really depressed. He hopes for the happy as he jumps back on his bed, grabbing his pen.
He sits back on his haunches and writes on his chest.
If that's how you feel, Starboy. Then imagine I am touching you. Here. As he writes the words down his chest, he drags his fingers over them before dipping lower and writing on his stomach.
I wonder if you can feel my fingers when I brush against the skin here?
While he writes, Kenny’s cheeks deepen with a crimson flush that he's sure is stretching down his neck. He kneads his fingers over his stomach, scratching lightly and hissing at his own attention. Kenny closes his eyes, pretending it's the other boy’s hands on his hips instead of his own.
As the words bloom across his skin, Craig traces them, eyes dropping down to his stomach when he feels goosebumps pricking along his abdomen. Four faint lines appear, as if someone dragged their nails against their skin, and the shock of arousal hits Craig like a bus.
The thought of Kenny clawing at himself, fingers touching everywhere Craig felt a shiver echo against his skin, had him feeling uncomfortable against the fly of his jeans.
I can, Craig writes out over a sea of goosebumps.
Can you feel me here? Pressing his fingers to his hip, Craig kneads the skin until it pinkens under his hand.
A quiet moan escapes Kenny when he feels the phantom touch against his hip, biting his lip so hard he's afraid it'll bleed. His eyes open and finds the flesh pink where he knows the other boy has been touching. He pressed hard enough that I could feel it, Kenny inwardly thinks, a gasp on his lips as he reads what Starboy wrote.
Yes, fuck yes, Kenny writes somewhere random on his stomach.
So Starboy can feel it? Kenny’s own arousal is proof of that, proof that scratching hard enough or marking deep enough into the flesh transfers. This realization has him dropping back onto his pillows, his hand slipping under his sweatpants and scratching hard along his pelvic bone to his hip.
Kenny’s breath is tight as he tries his best to write something with his other hand, low, very low. Catch me if you can.
When those three little words appear on Craig’s stomach, a moan works its way past his lips.
"Fuck," Craig mutters, scraping his nails over his neck and down to his collarbone, the subtle sting making him shiver, and wishing he could see the way the marks would look on Kenny's skin.
Craig never imagined doing anything like this, a blush still bright on his cheeks when he catches sight of himself in the mirror. He's barely done anything and already has a hard time recognizing himself with how debauched he looks.
Something catches his attention, eyes noticing a series of lines descending over his hip bone and down past the waistband of his jeans. Craig's hands instantly drop to his fly, unbuttoning and lowering the zipper before peeling the denim away from his skin and down this thighs.
The lines disappear under his boxer briefs, reemerging where the material ends on his upper thigh. Pulling the waistband down a fraction, Craig sees the words Catch me if you can dangerously low on pelvis.
He doesn't think he's ever locked a door this fast in his entire life.
Stepping away from the mirror, Craig sits on the edge of his bed, snapping the elastic waistband against his hips, hoping it’s hard enough for Kenny to feel, to see the pink mark on his skin mirrored in tattoo-black on the other. Resting back against his propped up pillows, he pushes his underwear down, nails grazing his inner thigh in the process.
Tag. Craig adds over the pink scratches across his skin.
Kenny practically groans when he feels an almost-scratch down his neck followed up by a ghosted snap on his hips. These sensations paired with the knowledge that his soulmate is the one doing it, is driving him out of his mind. He's harder than he's ever been, feeling his cock straining painfully against his sweatpants.
It's when he feels the faint sensation on his inner thigh that he bites his hand hard and whimpers into the quiet room.
Kenny's eyes are lidded when he glances down, lifting his hips, and with one swift motion he shoves his sweatpants and boxers off. He suddenly feels a jolt that goes down his spine to his cock when he sees the marks and the tag on his thigh.
Jesus, Kenny thinks, trying to figure out if he should just touch his poor weeping erection or try his best to tease Starboy more. It's hard to think in his state, so aroused that he can barely function.
Kenny's hand is shaking as he tries to write something, anywhere within reach.
Fuck, touch me more, Kenny manages to scribble, slightly embarrassed by the neediness evident in those words and how awful his handwriting looks. Tell me what to do, please.
Between the bite mark on his hand and the script popping up on his thigh, the usually immaculate handwriting turning choppy with desperation, Craig feels his cock twitch. He ignores it momentarily in favor of looking the words over for the umpteenth time, blush deepening with each readthrough.
Craig places a bite on his own hand, overlapping the dark imprint of Kenny's teeth. There are so many things he wants to do, to tell Kenny to do, but whenever he goes to raise his pen, the words fizzle out in his mind, too turned on by the marks and words adorning his body.
He adds to them, setting his pen to his thigh and dotting the skin with constellations and swirling lines up his leg, drawing hearts on the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. The right words occur to Craig finally, finding a gap in his sloping drawings and filling it with words.
Follow my lead. Follow my hands.
Dropping his pen next to him and starting at his knees, Craig presses his fingers into his skin, dragging his nails over his thighs. He teases the skin at the juncture of his legs and torso, dipping close to his cock before moving away to his hips, further up to the ticklish skin of his rib cage.
It’s the overlaying bite on Kenny’s hand that he notices first, the tattoo-like marks marring the same place his mouth had been and it makes his body weak . His Starboy had practically kissed him by doing that. Kenny brings the hand back to his mouth and bites it again, sucking on the skin to make a bruise.
But Kenny’s attention changes when he feels the ghosting on his legs and another whimper leaves him as he enjoys the feeling. He knows his soulmate has written something and it takes all of his strength to look and not reach forward to grab his swollen cock.
Starboy’s drawn all over him. The idea is so absurdly sexy that the lower arousal in his abdomen is almost too much to deal with. Kenny feels overworked and under touched, watching the doodles litter his skin.
When his eyes see the words, Kenny licks his lips in anticipation and does what he’s told.
The angry marks of Starboy’s nails show up on his legs and he follows them like a trail of breadcrumbs, feeling that heated arousal grow as goosebumps cover his tender flesh. When Kenny touches his own ribs he stops, his head twisting against the pillow. His back arches as he scratches down either side of his ribcage hard enough to make his soulmate feel it.
Lifting his hand, Kenny snatches the pen from the bed and writes on his ribs, quickly putting the pen to his skin.
You took me too high, Starboy. Head in the clouds when I want to be lower. Kenny imagines himself purring those words into the boy’s ear before he draws a line down to his pelvis pointing right to his erection. I’m going to touch it and I’m going to be thinking of you when I do it.
Craig’s skin is buzzing as the dark scratches present themselves on his over sensitive skin. When the arrow appears, running the length of his abs and stopping just short of his cock, Craig bites back a groan, gripping the base as he fumbles for his pen.
Go slow. I want you to tease yourself so that I can feel you shake.
Craig’s letters are messy and run together across his lower abdomen, and reading his own words knowing that Kenny is seeing them, wearing them on his skin has him thrusting up into his hand.
I want to feel you, Craig scrawls out, wishing and hoping that any of the pressure he's applying to himself is something Kenny can feel.
Kenny arches his back off the bed as he touches himself. His hand gripping the sensitive flesh of his cock has him mewling out loud and thanking God that no one can hear how incredibly wrecked he is. Kenny pulls his eyes open when he feels the writing on his oversensitized skin, reading the words as his lips part.
He nods to no one, but feeling like he’s answering his soulmate anyway, Kenny runs his hand over his cock slowly. His thumb grazes over the tip and his mouth falls open as his other hand grips his shoulder, clawing hard against the skin as he teases himself with no mercy.
Kenny wants to feel him. Imagines it’s his soulmate breaking him down and making him beg for more.
When Craig sees the scratches over his shoulder, feels them bubble up to the surface of his skin, he doesn't fight the gasp leaving his mouth. He wishes Kenny were there, that he could reach out and touch him, hold him, watch him crumble and writhe under his hands and mouth.
Craig quickens his pace, attempting to focus on the fleeting sensation of what he imagines are the slow and steady strokes of his soulmate's hand.
Gripping for his pen, he hurriedly writes with his non-dominant hand, not even caring if the words are legible.
Are you close? Craig grips his thigh hard, hoping his hand print will transfer into a pretty tattoo on Kenny's pale skin.
It’s beautiful agony. The slow torture and the burning sensation that’s almost crawling up Kenny’s skin. The drag of his hand over the wetness of his cock, the lewdness of his own body as he fucks his hand at a creeping pace.
He’s so close. So teasingly close that the fire in his body causes his toes to curl and his legs to wobble, knees spread and painting an obscene picture, he’s sure.
The ghosting phantom of Starboy’s hand on his cock is doubling the pleasure every once in a while when he’s sure the boy gives himself a particularly hard jerk. It’s got him panting, wanting more.
Kenny senses the writing, then really feels the sensation of the hand on his thigh. And oh God, he gasps as his hips buck into his hand harder.
He’s never wanted someone so bad in his life.
I’m so close. Kenny tries to write on his chest, the pen causing him to whimper and whine at the friction it creates.
A low moan leaves Kenny’s wrecked and bitten lips as he tries to write more, You’re so good. Please, please baby, let me come.
Craig bites down hard on his bottom lip, attempting and failing to muffle a groan at the words appearing across his chest. The filthy text littering his body has him pumping his cock harder, faster.
He feels himself nearing the edge at a rapid pace, the image of Kenny spread out on his bed, bucking into the grip of his hand making him gasp out into the stillness of his room.
Fumbling with his pen, he sets the nib against his thigh, letters shaky over his skin.
Let go for me, Princess.
When Kenny feels the tingle of writing appearing on his thigh, he pauses briefly to see what his soulmate wrote. The words have his stomach clenching with arousal, his hand only needing to pump his erection once, twice more before he's falling over the edge into a blinding orgasm.
Kenny’s mouth opens letting out a low whimper, squeezing his eyes shut as the pleasure is punched out of him. He rides the wave, his fingers grazing over sensitized flesh as a few follow up shock waves cause his toes to curl and his body to twist along his sheets.
When the coil unravels completely he takes a moment to breathe, his body loose and tired from the abuse, but he knows he can’t fall asleep. Not yet. Not until he knows Starboy has released as well.
Picking up his pen he smiles softly and writes next to the ‘Let go for me, Princess’ on his thigh. You had me seeing stars, Kenny pauses, running his fingers over the letters his soulmate left and writes underneath it.
I wish I could see that handsome face when you let go. Hear those moans I imagined you made. Now it’s your turn to let go, make pretty sounds for your Princess.
Craig can hear Kenny’s voice echoing the words burning over his skin, his crooked smile flashing in his mind, and that’s all it takes for him to tumble over the precipice. He comes undone in waves, spilling over his hand with a strangled groan, throwing his head back against his pillows.
His stokes slow, grip lessening as he comes back down, heartbeat almost deafening in his ears. Everything is warm and buzzing in his afterglow, and all he wants is Kenny at his side, pressed up against his flushed skin.
I wish I could feel you right now, Craig writes on his thigh, putting every ounce of love and adoration into each word. See that pretty blush and those cute freckles up close.
Kenny is basking in his afterglow when he feels the writing on his thigh. He raises his hand to push his sandy hair out of his eyes and spreads his legs, lifting the leg the writing is on so he can see it without sitting up.
A smile crosses his lips before he licks them and touches the tips of his fingers to the skin where his beloved has written. Plucking the pen from his chest, he writes back.
I can guarantee the blush is intense, I can’t guarantee you can see my freckles under the blush it’s so dark.
Craig’s fingers brush the dark letters that just formed under his last message, a lazy smile pulling at his lips as he answers. I guess then I’d have to stick around to watch it fade.
Because he wants to. Craig wants to see and feel and touch Kenny, wants to make him laugh at his bad jokes and pull him close under his covers so that they can block out the world in their own little universe.
Craig needs to tell him.
And even though that thought has been haunting Craig for every waking second since he discovered it was Kenny, this time the sharp pang of anxiousness doesn’t stab through his chest. His eyes are heavy, breath and heart finally leveling out as a wave of calm washes over him.
It’s interrupted almost immediately by his phone chiming from the floor. Reaching for the small device, Craig looks at Tweek’s name on the screen before answering.
“Hullo?”
“Craig? You sound like you got hit by a bus, man.”
He clears his throat, suddenly very self conscious about how scratchy and wrecked his voice sounds. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just woke up from a nap,” Craig lies smoothly, sitting up on his bed and watching a new line of words crawl across his thigh.
You certainly know how to sweet talk a guy.
Craig bites his lip, drawing a quick heart at the end of Kenny’s sentence. “What’s up?”
“I finally heard back from Kenny. He’s fine, but you nngh, you probably already knew that,” Tweek sounds exhausted through the phone, and Craig doesn’t blame him. He’s been stressing constantly over Kenny’s disappearing act and Craig is convinced he was about 30 seconds away from hiring a PI to investigate. “I’m heading back to see him now.”
“Oh, uh.” Shit. Kenny is likely in a state much like Craig’s own, and he has no good way of warning him without totally giving himself away. “He’s probably passed out, dude. That exam seemed-”
Tweek makes a weird sound on the other end of the phone, the faint jingle of his keyring in the background. “What the hell, man…”
“What?”
“There’s a sock on my door handle.”
The rush of blood to Craig’s face gives him an instant headrush.
“Why is…” There is a long pause, Tweek’s breathing the only indication that the line isn’t dead.
“Uh,” Craig runs a hand through his hair, opening his mouth to say something slightly more intelligent before the call drops with a click .
Maybe Craig has leached some of Tweek’s paranoia over the years, but something tells him to get dressed, even if his body is rejecting the idea of moving. He’s barely pulled his underwear up over his ass when a rapid succession of loud knocks bang against his door.
“Craig FUCKING Tucker, I SWEAR TO GOD,” Tweek’s voice bellows outside his door a fraction of a second later.
Well, fuck.
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SonofThanatos (Guest) on Chapter 2 Mon 23 Apr 2018 12:58PM UTC
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The Elder Gays (Katanachan) on Chapter 2 Fri 27 Apr 2018 01:17AM UTC
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Dalila23 on Chapter 2 Mon 23 Apr 2018 04:14PM UTC
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The Elder Gays (Katanachan) on Chapter 2 Fri 27 Apr 2018 01:15AM UTC
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arseniccq (Guest) on Chapter 2 Tue 24 Apr 2018 06:00PM UTC
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The Elder Gays (Katanachan) on Chapter 2 Fri 27 Apr 2018 01:15AM UTC
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Sinnamon_Troll on Chapter 2 Wed 25 Apr 2018 01:42AM UTC
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The Elder Gays (Katanachan) on Chapter 2 Fri 27 Apr 2018 01:13AM UTC
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ChiefInvestigatorEmma on Chapter 2 Tue 26 Jun 2018 03:42PM UTC
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The Elder Gays (Katanachan) on Chapter 2 Wed 27 Jun 2018 08:59AM UTC
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HagSpice on Chapter 2 Thu 05 Jul 2018 10:06PM UTC
Last Edited Fri 06 Jul 2018 03:08AM UTC
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The Elder Gays (Katanachan) on Chapter 2 Tue 10 Jul 2018 05:17AM UTC
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Ghostie (Guest) on Chapter 2 Mon 08 Jul 2019 02:59AM UTC
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boostergolding on Chapter 2 Sun 15 May 2022 11:35PM UTC
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arseniccq (Guest) on Chapter 3 Tue 24 Apr 2018 10:19PM UTC
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The Elder Gays (Katanachan) on Chapter 3 Fri 27 Apr 2018 01:14AM UTC
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ChiefInvestigatorEmma on Chapter 3 Wed 25 Apr 2018 12:06PM UTC
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The Elder Gays (Katanachan) on Chapter 3 Fri 27 Apr 2018 01:07AM UTC
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Mbmer (pasdela) on Chapter 3 Wed 25 Apr 2018 06:17PM UTC
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The Elder Gays (Katanachan) on Chapter 3 Fri 27 Apr 2018 01:03AM UTC
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HagSpice on Chapter 3 Mon 10 Sep 2018 04:20AM UTC
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