Chapter Text
As far as Craig was concerned, putting students in detention on the first day back from winter break should have been illegal. It wasn’t like he’d even done anything especially bad this time—someone had made the mistake of describing their time off as Christmas break at the welcome back assembly, and Craig had been a bit too obvious about rolling his eyes at the ensuing freak out. “Do you think Christmas is the only fucking holiday that matters?!” PC Principal had asked, which had to count as entrapment or something. Craig had answered “Yes?” without missing a beat, because really, who wouldn’t? You couldn’t set a kid up like and expect them to not respond.
To make matters worse, he wasn’t spending detention alone. A cluster of girls were grouped together on the opposite side of the room, whispering to one another and bursting into occasional fits of giggles despite Mr. Mackey’s repeated warnings to stay quiet. Craig didn’t know what they’d done to end up here, but anything that involved that many getting into trouble at once had to be pretty bad. It was a miracle the school was still standing.
He looked at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time since he’d arrived, seeing it was only ten after three. That left a whole two hours and fifty minutes to go. How was he supposed to survive? He didn’t even have homework to distract himself with. Unlike some faculty members, Mrs. Nelson understood the sacred rules about grace periods after holidays. Loading students down with assignments while they were still reacclimating from their small taste of freedom would have been pointless for everyone involved.
Desperate for something—anything—to make the afternoon go by faster, Craig tried counting seconds in his head, like he could force the minutes to pass with will alone. When that got too dull he started doodling an unflattering caricature of Mr. Mackey on the cover of his notebook, then added some rocket ships about to crash into him for good measure. His work finished, he finally chanced another glance at the clock to find that he’d managed to kill... a whole five minutes.
Craig groaned out loud, letting his head droop to rest on the table as another peel of laughter erupted from across the room. The logical part of him knew he shouldn’t look. Making eye contact with girls was dangerous, after all, but curiosity was getting the better of him. He couldn’t imagine what they were all so entertained by, anyway. Mr. Mackey had made a point to confiscate everyone’s phones when they first got here, assuring they’d spend the entire time trapped in mind-numbing boredom.
With nothing better to do he dared a quick peek, only for Lola to catch his eye almost immediately. She waved a hand to beckon him over. “Hi, Craig! Don’t you wanna hang out with us instead of sitting all alone?”
Craig flashed what he hoped was his most threatening glare. This was exactly why he’d wanted to keep to himself; Lola and her friends seemed to think that his being gay meant they were going to be buddies, as if he’d ever have anything in common with a bunch of stupid girls. Before he could turn his head and go back to ignoring them, however, he saw it.
There, sitting on Annie Knitts’ lap as if it were as harmless as an ordinary piece of paper, was one of the most powerful objects in the universe. Somehow, the girls were in possession of another future-telling device almost exactly like the one they—well, Butters, technically—had worked so hard to confiscate from Heidi all those months ago.
His interest didn’t go unnoticed, and Esther grinned. “He does wanna play with us after all.”
“Let’s read Craig’s future,” Jenny said, causing Craig’s blood to run cold.
“Let’s ask it about him and Tweek!”
“No!” Craig all but jumped out of his seat. He knew the emotional outburst wasn’t doing him any favors, but for once, Craig couldn’t help himself. This was his life they were toying around with here.
Lola smirked, ignoring his plea. “Pick a number, Craig.”
“Fuck you!”
“Two words,” said Lola with such confidence that Craig wondered if just being near the device had given her some kind of clairvoyance by-proxy. “That’s as good as picking two.”
“Oh, and he’s always wearing blue!” Esther added.
Annie followed those cryptic instructions, moving the device in her hands like a woman possessed. Craig took a step towards them, heart pounding. Touching that thing was almost certain death, but he had to stop them. Had to take it away somehow. He looked to the front of the room for help, but found Mr. Mackey chuckling to himself as he continued to scroll through his iPad, too engrossed in whatever was on screen to notice that a handful of fourth graders were about to rip apart the fabric of time and space. Craig was on his own.
“Are Craig and Tweek meant to be together?” Lola asked as Annie’s actions came to a stop. Craig sprinted forward to close the distance between them, making a grab for the device mere seconds too late. His fingers met only empty air as Annie moved it just out of his reach.
She wasted no time lifting the flap that sealed Craig’s fate, the red ink mocking him even before Lola read the condemnation aloud. “No way!”
“Ooooh! Tough luck, Craig!”
The entire group of them broke out into laughter, as if they hadn’t just brought Craig’s entire world crashing down around him.
“Detention time means quiet time, mmkay,” Mr. Mackey droned from upfront.
A heavy weight settled in his stomach and Craig sank back into his seat, defeated. Maybe he should have kept trying to take the device for everyone else’s sakes, but he didn’t have it in him to care. What did it matter, anyway? Craig’s fate was sealed.
Behind him, the ticking of the clock seemed faster, like even it was getting in on mocking him. Craig almost wished detention would never end—there was no way the girls would ever keep a discovery like this quiet. Once everyone had their phones back, the news would spread all over the school. And then…
Craig swallowed thickly. Logically, he knew he shouldn’t let the answer get to him. Meant to be was a lot to ask from a couple of ten-year-olds, and there were plenty of ways things could go wrong that didn’t imply any kind of disaster. Still… would Tweek see it that way? No one wanted to be in a relationship that was destined to go nowhere. Wasting your time wasn’t appealing at any age. Worst of all, Craig knew it had to be his own fault. Sure, he and Tweek fought sometimes, but it never took them very long to find their way back to each other. He couldn’t imagine wanting to actually break up, not for real. Tweek would have had to have been the one to end things permanently, which meant that future Craig must have done something massively stupid.
It was so unfair. This was exactly why Craig and the other boys had been so keen to destroy the time relic the first time around—no one should have this kind of power. Without that stupid prediction looming over their heads he and Tweek might have been able to enjoy the time they had left before it all fell apart, but now even that was ruined. The device had left no doubt: the two of them didn’t stand a chance. It didn’t matter how much he liked holding Tweek’s hand or what a great team they made or how much he found himself laughing, easy and relaxed, when they were together. All of those feelings were rendered inconsequential under the weight of two simple words. Had Craig ever even told Tweek how much he liked him? He’d always thought there would be more time.
It figured, he thought numbly. His first real relationship, and it was going to be over before it could truly even begin.
“You’re here late.”
Jimmy looked up from the computer monitor to see Craig leaning against the doorway of the school newsroom. “I could say the s-sa-same. Did you just get out of detention?”
Craig made a noncommittal noise and pulled up a seat to plop down near Jimmy. The look on his face was stormy, even for Craig standards. By now the two of them had been friends long enough for Jimmy to tell the difference between a something’s wrong scowl and a this is just my normal face scowl, and this was clearly the former. Had it been anyone else, he probably would have asked what the problem was, but things were different with Craig. Craig liked to be distracted when he was upset, and generally, Jimmy was happy to oblige.
“I’ve been going over this article for the school paper,” Jimmy explained, nodding towards the screen. “Christie Porter was supposed to write a review of the sixth grade production of A Christmas Carol, but she keeps reworking it into a p-p-pol-political piece about corruption in the mayor’s office.”
Craig raised an eyebrow in what could generously be considered half-interest, which was about as much of an invitation to go on as anyone could hope for from him. “Don’t you write about that kind of stuff all the time?”
“I would have been happy to run the piece as a headline if she’d verified her sources.” And not insulted Jimmy’s editorial skills by trying to hide an article he’d rejected in the entertainment section. “But she expects me to print it without fact checking. Who does she think we are, Fox News?”
Craig didn’t laugh, but again, that wasn’t the way to judge Craig’s interest. The fact that he was still listening said it all.
Jimmy dragged the mouse to highlight a particularly offensive passage. “I mean, come on. What am I supposed to do with this?”
“For, really,” Craig read aloud as he obligingly leaned in for a closer look. No one could ever accuse Craig of being much of a performer, but there were times when his dry, perpetually bored sounding voice felt appropriate—sad excuses for journalism chief among them. “Is there a more fitting metaphor for our troubled times than the idea that a sudden change of heart undoes years of harmful actions and capitalistic oppression?”
“See?” Jimmy asked. Half of the basketball team had ran off the stage in tears, and Christie couldn’t muster up more than moralizing about Dickens? “I’m starting to wonder if she even went to the actual p-play.”
Craig continued to stare at the screen, the look his face surprisingly thoughtful. “Maybe she has a point.”
“Not you too, Craig.” Jimmy was committed to publishing the truth and all, but that wasn’t accomplished by sneaking your opinions into unrelated reviews.
“Not about the politics.” Craig’s hands curled into fists in his lap, his eyes narrowing like he’d just caught on to something brilliant. “But the whole point of that story is that the ghosts only show Scrooge the future so he can change it. The rules in sci-fi movies are the same. When someone sends information to the past, it’s always so they can fix something.”
“Well—”
“That’s gotta be what the people who created the device intended.” Craig rose to his feet, apparently invigorated. “Why else would they have bothered?”
“I d-don’t—”
Craig was no longer interested in listening. “Thanks, Jimmy. I know what I have to do.”
With purposeful strides, Craig exited the room and left Jimmy staring at his friend’s retreating back. “What the fuck just happened?”
“Your boyfriend has officially lost it.”
On the list of ways Tweek never wanted to start lunch period, that had to be somewhere near the top. He nearly jumped, looking across the table as Token sat down his tray and stared at him evenly. Seconds later, Clyde and Jimmy followed suit.
“What’s wrong with Craig?”
“Dude,” said Clyde. “You haven’t noticed?”
“Noticed what?” he asked, although that was a bit disingenuous. It would have been impossible to miss that Crag had been acting a little… different today. To the best of Tweek’s knowledge he hadn’t flipped off a single one of their friends all morning, and he’d even gotten through an impromptu lecture about problematic New Year’s Resolutions without laughing once.
“He’s a pod person,” Clyde said matter-of-factly. “He finally watched too many of those weird space movies and got replaced by aliens.”
“So he’s a little happier than usual,” Tweek protested. “That doesn’t make him not Craig.”
“Do you know why he’s late for lunch today, Tweek?” Token asked. “He stayed in class to get his homework done early.”
Tweek winced. Okay, that was pretty unusual. For Craig, getting an assignment done more than five minutes before it was due was about as prompt as it got.
“That’s not even the worst part. I told him I was thinking about asking out the new girl. He—” Clyde swallowed and took a deep breath, as if he were about recount something traumatic. “He said he was sure she’d say yes because I’m such a great guy.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jimmy all but whispered.
“Maybe he was being sarcastic?” Tweek offered.
“Tweek.” Clyde sniffed like he was fighting back tears and leaned over his lunch tray so dramatically he missed slamming his fist into his mashed potatoes by mere centimeters. “He was completely sincere!”
“You know, I haven’t spoken to Craig since yesterday.” Jimmy propped an elbow up on the table, looking thoughtful.
Eagerly, Tweek turned his head in Jimmy’s direction. Maybe Clyde and Token were being ridiculous, but surely he could count on Jimmy 's rationality. “And he was fine, right?”
“Actually,” Jimmy said, “I think he might be dying.”
“What?!”
“He kept saying all this c-c-cr-cryyp—all this strange stuff about the future. Like maybe he was trying to get his affairs in order.”
Token nodded. “That makes more sense than aliens.”
“Craig isn’t dying!” Tweek all but screamed, reaching up to tug at his hair. God, he couldn’t believe this. As if Model Student Craig wasn’t weird enough to throw the entire universe out of whack, now the rest of the group had to outdo him in jumping to wild conclusions? He was no good at being the voice of reason!
Craig was fine. A little more upbeat and agreeable than normal, maybe, but that wasn’t so out of the ordinary right after Christmas. A kid doesn’t go from perfectly healthy to the brink of death overnight. (Except, of course, for the millions of ways kids did end up on the brink of death all the time, but still! They didn’t have cause to think Craig might be among them.) Even Craig Tucker was allowed to have good days every now and then. It didn’t have to mean anything serious.
(…Did it?)
“You guys are overreacting,” Tweek said, fully aware of just how ironic that must have sounded coming out of his mouth. As if to compensate, he scrunched his face up into a serious frown. Until Craig got there to defend himself, someone had to try and be logical about things. “It isn’t that weird for Craig to be in a good mood.”
“No,” Token agreed. “What’s weird is that he’s willing to show it.”
Clyde and Jimmy looked ready to back Token up, but before they could argue further Tweek finally caught sight of Craig walking toward them, lunchbox in hand.
Or he would have been walking towards them, if he wasn’t being held up by the animated chatter of Cartman. “—I’m telling you, Craig, it’s a seventy-two billion dollar industry! January is the perfect time!”
“The perfect time for a weight loss program with a donut bar.” Even from a distance, Tweek could tell Craig was unimpressed.
“It’s called body positivity, Craig! We aren't shaming anyone's choices!”
“It’s called making sure people don’t actually lose weight so you can keep taking their money. It’ll never work.” Craig shouldered past Cartman to move towards his usual table, and Tweek felt a rush of relief. That sounded like Craig being his normal, lovably cranky self.
Cartman, however, wasn’t done. “You know, Craig, one day people are gonna get sick of all your negativity.”
Tweek expected Craig to scoff or flip Cartman off, ignoring the comment the way he did with just about everything else Stan’s group said. Instead, though, Craig frowned and froze mid-step. “Hey… wait. Maybe I do have some free time this week.”
“That does it!” Tweek was on his feet in a flash, Token at his side. Together, they ushered Craig away from Cartman and over to their table.
“What’s he got on you, man?!”
“Who?” Craig looked mildly confused but didn’t fight back against being dragged along.
“Cartman!” Token said. Wasn’t that obvious? “You just signed on to one of their crazy schemes in record time.”
“Are you saying I’d have to be blackmailed into wanting to help someone?”
“Yes!” Tweek blurted, almost instantly regretting it. Craig was stubborn at the best of times, and prone to digging his heels in out of sheer spite when he felt cornered.
Instead of getting annoyed, though, Craig rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “If you don’t think I should do it, then I won’t.”
“What?! I don’t want you to just do whatever I tell you either!”
“It’s really not a big deal, babe.”
Tweek looked across the table for support, but all he found was Clyde holding his fingers up by his head in what was probably supposed to mimic antenna while Token and Jimmy mimed being choked. When Craig turned their way, they promptly dropped their hands and did a terrible job of acting natural. Some help they were.
Craig settled at the table and focused on his lunch, apparently having decided things were back to business as usual. “By the way,” Craig sounded like he was going for nonchalance, but he couldn’t quite pull it off. “I got some of that new candy you wanted to try.”
By some Craig meant an entire bag that he pulled from his lunchbox and offered to Tweek, who stared down at the individually wrapped chocolates dubiously. “Aren’t these expensive?” There was a reason, after all, that he’d never gotten around to buying any for himself.
Clyde made puppy eyes at him and Tweek responded by throwing one of the chocolates his way, only for Token to reach out a hand to intercept it with lightning speed. The resulting squabble probably would have been funny if Tweek wasn’t so otherwise distracted.
Craig shrugged. “I still had some Christmas money left over.”
Jimmy caught Tweek’s eye as if it to say See? There’s another red flag. As much as Tweek would have liked to deny it, Craig’s gift-giving was getting a little excessive. He’d had coffee waiting for Tweek when they’d met up for the walk to school that morning (the new blend from Harbucks that Tweek secretly liked but knew his father would consider the world's greatest betrayal), and between classes Craig had produced a fancy-looking three ring binder from his bag when Tweek had complained his was about to break. Craig was one of the most generous people around—at least as far as Tweek was concerned—but this was beginning to feel like bribery. It was no secret that the Tuckers didn’t have a lot of money, and after the Peru Incident, Craig tended to hoard over his holiday savings like a dragon over gold.
“Craig…” Tweek’s concerned tone was cleary not what Craig wanted to hear, and his smile began to fade. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“It’s just candy, Tweek. Why wouldn’t things be okay?”
“You’ve given me a present every time I’ve seen you today.” Tweek didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but there was no helping it.
“It’s our first week back in school,” Craig said.
“Yeah… but it’s not like we didn’t see each other over break.” They hadn’t visited every day, but it had been close enough. “You're just—" Tweek made a noise of frustration as he searched for the right words. "You’re not acting like yourself.”
“Tweek.” For the briefest instant, Craig’s usual façade faded long enough for something in his voice to sound tired and the first pangs of true worry latched onto Tweeks’ heart. “I really don’t want to fight about this, okay?”
That’s when Tweek realized his first estimate was way off. This wasn’t happy Craig, coasting on the goodwill of a relaxing Christmas break. This was sad Craig, going through the motions to keep the peace.
“…Okay,” Tweek agreed, even as Clyde shook his head vehemently in opposition. Tweek knew a thing or two about bad days; how one little problem could make everything else seem so much worse. Craig was entitled to not feel okay sometimes without having a production made out of it.
He shot the others a glare to drop the matter and went back to poking at his lunch. As the conversation moved on to other topics, however, he couldn’t help noticing how reluctant Craig was to meet his eyes. Craig didn’t seem alien or like a boy confronted with his mortality. He seemed… guilty, and that thought felt real enough to be scarier than any of Clyde’s conspiracy theories.
Craig barely believed it was possible, but by the time he stepped off the bus that evening he actually felt worse than he had the day before. After he’d ignored his usual stop, Tweek had tugged at his arm and given him a worried look—something he’d been doing a lot of today—and Craig had made up some excuse about being distracted before hurrying off the bus. It wasn’t much of a lie, but an uneasy feeling gnawed at him anyway. Really, this shouldn’t have been a big deal. He wasn’t doing anything more unusual than visiting the home of a boy who lived down the street from him, but Craig couldn’t shake the feeling that he was about to offer up his soul to devil. In the end, though, what choice did he have? His attempts at handling this on his own had just weirded out his friends and upset Tweek—the exact opposite of what he’d intended. If Craig wanted to turn things around before it was too late, he was going to have to call in an expert.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked on Eric Cartman’s door.
And waited. And knocked again. Then waited some more, listening to the sound of the yelling and cursing from inside the house before the door finally swung open.
“Jesus Christ, what the fuck do you—” Upon seeing Craig, the anger on Cartman’s face quickly drained to surprise and poorly concealed exasperation. “Craig. Look, I’m really loving the enthusiasm, but we’re not gonna need you until this weekend.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
Like a shark scenting blood in the water, Cartman’s eyebrows rose in interest, but he remained silent. Of course the fatass would make him actually say it.
Swallowing the last bit of his pride, Craig forced out the words. “…I think I need your help.”
“I see,” Cartman said, stepping aside and ushering Craig into the house. “If you’ll just step into my office—”
“I’m not going down to your fucking basement.” God, this was such a mistake. If Craig was really going to go through with this, he needed to just lay everything out and get it over with as quickly as possible. “Look. You’re a total dick and people still talk to you. I need to know how you do it.”
Any fear that Cartman might take offense was erased when he responded by snorting with laughter and shooting Craig a knowing look. “Man, you must have really pissed Tweek off, huh?”
“Who said this has anything to do with Tweek?”
“Craig. Come on. Seriously.”
Craig grit his teeth, face burning with humiliation at the fact that apparently even Eric Fucking Cartman could read him so easily. “I didn’t do anything. Yet.”
He’d intended for the statement to sound cryptic, but to his surprise Cartman nodded like it made perfect sense. “Covering your tracks before you act, huh? Smart. There might be hope for you yet, Craig.”
Why was he doing this again?
“As much as I’d love to help,” Cartman continued. “I’m afraid my services don’t come—”
“I’ll give you twenty dollars.”
“Have a seat, Craig. Let’s talk.”