A/N: what the hell is this trash
kill me now
It was a quiet night in South Park, save for the sounds of a few cars zooming by every so often. Everything was unnaturally quiet actually, except for one household, that household being the Tucker house. Three of the four family members were asleep, and all the lights were turned out, except for one's. Craig Tucker had his light on, and was currently trying to choke down tears. He stared up at the ceiling from his bed, afraid of who-knows-what.
His laptop was facing away from him, and he could hear Clyde sigh. "Craig, I said you can tell me anything," he could hear Clyde's voice growing more annoyed and Craig's breathing became more shallow. There is absolutely no way in hell Craig can do this. Wiping off a few stray tears that had pricked his eyelids, he blinked and turned his laptop back to him. Clyde seemed to be sitting at his desk, brown eyes staring at the floor. He wasn't paying attention. Craig made a slight coughing noise and those stupidly hot chocolate eyes met his own grey eyes.
"I can't tell you. Sorry for wasting your time," he apologized and Clyde frowned.
"Craig, I promise I won't judge you. Just tell man," Clyde crossed his arms and leaned back a bit.
"I might have a crush on—"
"The stoic, emotionless Craig Tucker has a crush on someone! Gasp!" Clyde's mouth formed into an over-dramatic 'O' and he laughed as Craig narrowed his eyes at him.
"Before I was so rudely interrupted, I might have a crush on someone," he bit his lip and averted his gaze to the left, not letting Clyde see the fact that he was blushing.
"Who's the lucky lady?" Clyde waggled his eyebrows and started to laugh again.
"Guy," Craig said in response. Clyde shut up for a second, and leaned more forward in his chair.
"Okay, lucky guy. Who is it? Please tell me it's not Cartman or Stan or anyone like that," The brunet put a finger gun to his head, rolled his eyes, and stuck his tongue out at the mere mention of Stan and Cartman's names.
"No," Craig responded. Someone somewhere deep in his mind was screaming at him to stop, that this was all an illusion, and he felt tears prick his eyes again. He wiped them and continued to stare at Clyde's confused expression.
"Is it someone in our group?" Clyde asked, his cool façade returning. Craig nodded as he sniffled.
"Tweek? Token? Jason? Jimmy?" Craig continued to shake his head until Clyde paused. "...me?"
Craig swallowed as he nodded and he watched Clyde go from confused to happy. "R-really?" He watched the brunet blush and rub the back of his neck, before he made a cheesy heart symbol with his hands. "Look, let me talk to you tomorrow," he said, and and then Clyde hung up. Craig could hardly believe it as a huge grin replaced what had been a sad frown.
Craig sent a quick message to Tweek, stating that "CLYDE LIKES ME BACK! HOLY SHIT."
Tweek's reply came a few moments later, "GAH WHO THE FUCK IS CLYDE? OH JESUS."
Everything seemed to be perfect, Clyde liked him back (he thought) and he sighed happily. Tweek's response made him frown for a second, but he shrugged it off and laid down, a smile on his face.
Craig Tucker woke up at 9 AM, his heart beating frantically as he recalled the events of the Skype call. The happy feeling in his chest quickly deflated however, as he blinked at the bright morning sun flooding his room. He rolled out of bed and went downstairs, stopping short at the sight of his brown haired crush sitting on his couch. "Um, Clyde?" He called out and he turned to face Craig.
"Hello," he greeted and patted the spot next to him. A lump arose in Craig's throat as he slowly made his way over to Clyde's location, and a sinking feeling weighed him down as he sat down. "How was your night?"
Tears started streaming down Craig's face as he sobbed into his palms. His body shook a bit as he cried, and a hand came to rest on Craig's bent spine. "Craig, what's wrong?" The boy asked with concern. Craig took a few shuddery breaths before he leaned back into the couch and wrapped his arms around his legs.
"I dreamt that you were real again."