The walk back to the dormitories passes quickly. In the back of his mind, Craig knows the walk is exactly the same length. It’s funny how the preoccupation of his mind with one thing or the other changes his perception of things. Craig’s mind moves faster than his feet but he makes it back into the hallways before he knows it. It’s not that he has dozens of racing thoughts, but rather the same questions rearticulate themselves over and over in his mind. What should he do now? What does this mean going forward? What should he tell Tweek? What’s the right move? It’s all back to the same root problem at hand. The notion spreads its tendrils, though, and perpetuates into a slew of several curiosities he’d like cleared up, too. But he’s not sure where to begin or how to even go about voicing them. Mainly, he just needs some kind of clarity. But even that’s hard to wrap his head around. Everything is so new and weird.

He’s almost back to his room when he catches sight of something that catches him off guard and makes his stomach drop. It’s a mess of blonde curls framing the shape of a familiar face. What the fuck is she doing here? Craig thinks about fleeing since he’s pretty sure she hasn’t seen him yet. His eyes dart around the abandoned otherwise abandoned hallway. It’s pretty clear if he high-tails it out of there, that’ll be more obvious. He doesn’t want to talk to her. They left things on pretty sour terms, and while he barely knows her, he knows enough to suspect she’s the type who wants to make a big song and dance of fixing things up between them (whatever that means). He doesn’t want to confront this right now or ever and he can’t find a clever enough way to abscond, so Craig simply freezes in place like a scared, awkward deer. There are realistically only a few moments before she’ll spot him standing there like a sweaty statue.

“Craig!”

Her voice sounds like glass shattering and makes him wince. He doesn’t move from his spot where his shoes seem to be nailed to the grimy carpet. He doesn’t acknowledge her but he doesn’t shun her, either. In fact, he doesn’t do much at all beyond standing there paralyzed on the spot with discomfort. She crosses the hall and stops about a foot in front of him. It’s hard to read her expression.

“Craig,” she repeats his name a bit softer as she approaches. “We need to talk.”

“Do we?” Craig squeaks out in a dry voice.

There’s an odd pause where they both look at each other with scrunched-up expressions.

“Look, Anna-”

“Annie,” she interjects with a frown.

“Right, Annie,” he nods, corrects himself, and continues. “I know you said you wanted me to be your boyfriend, but-”

“Craig, just stop,” she holds up a hand and looks annoyed. “Before you say anything else, I should save you the embarrassment. I actually came here to tell you it’s over.”

“Oh,” he nods again.

He’s not really sure how something that never started could be over, but he feels a weight leave his shoulders. This problem seems to be resolving itself without much intervention on his end.

“You’re kind of an asshole, Craig,” she states plainly, as though it were an absolute fact. “After the way you treated me, there’s no way I’d want to be your girlfriend. I don’t see how anyone would. I’m here to break up with you.”

Craig can’t hold back a bout of strained chuckles. She frowns deeply. He feels bad for being rude, but he really can’t contain it.

“What’s so funny?” Annie demands.

“Nothing,” Craig manages to get out between the titters. “I’m just kind of relieved, you know?”

“Relieved?!”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs. “I’m glad we’re finally on the same page here.”

Her eyes look like they might pop out of her head. Craig would feel much more guilty if he’d done more than fuck her. And he’d feel worse, too, if he hadn’t only just confirmed her name. The whole thing had been such a mess, he really and truly can’t bring himself to feel anything beyond a massive sense of alleviation. Never mind about the giant mess he’s preparing himself to face going forward, but at least this one is in the process of wrapping itself up in a neat little package and mailing itself the fuck out of his life.

“Fuck you, Craig,” she says in a small, hurt voice and shoves past him.

He watches her little blonde curls bounce for a moment, then she rounds the corner and out of his sight. That was weird. Craig feels a bit lighter, though. Hopefully, that’s all over. Honestly, he’s a little grateful for that encounter. He actually sort of forgot about that girl entirely, since so many strange and dramatic things occurred in the last handful of days. That and, of course, he didn’t really give a shit about her in the first place. The feeling returns to his limbs since the startle of the situation has abated itself, and he completes his walk back to his single-sized dormitory.

Once inside, he feels drained. Two voices conflict in his head. The first one urges him to clean this shit up better and to actually make his home away from home somewhat presentable to a guest he wants to make a good impression on. The other voice reminds him that Tweek had no problems with the state of the place when they came here together and it was a total disaster. Craig flops down on his couch and idly scrolls around on his phone. Nothing holds his interest and the aimless clicking between apps without a sense of purpose stirs up a bit of anxiety inside him. He throws an arm over his eyes and lets his phone drop from his grip. It’s entirely not of his own volition, but a groan rumbles low in his chest. The only thing he hates more than feeling out of control is feeling uncertain, and this situation has managed to present itself with the worst of both options.

He replays the course of events throughout the last few days on repeat in his mind. His mother’s attempts at wisdom linger and he frets over the future and all the possibilities it can hold. In the end, it’s the uncertainty that gets him. Craig reflects on everything that led him here. It’s unnerving how quickly everything seems to have changed. All it took was one careless evening and one thoughtless mistake to topple everything into a very bizarre mess. He slowly eases into the couch to think a little harder. That’s just the thing– it wasn’t a mistake, right? His face twists into a weird expression. He could have so easily not done any of that, and a part of him is really convinced of it. He’s never had an issue with control like this before. But that’s even more to the point, isn’t it? He is pretty damn sure he was still in enough control of the situation. Sure, his hormones were running rampant like never before, and sure, Tweek’s pheromones were so potent and alluring and there’s no way that didn’t have some type of effect on him. But in the end, he knows he could have stopped and he knows that for whatever twisted reason he chose to throw his life away as he knew it just because a squirming omega showed up and asked him to do so nicely. What the hell is wrong with him?

Craig knows he can cast off annoying social situations like water off a duck’s back. In fact, it’s been less than fifteen minutes since he did exactly that with Annie. He’s getting more frustrated the longer he thinks about it. Why doesn't he want to do the same with Tweek? Ultimately if he looks at it in a selfish way (as he is accustomed to doing), he should be able to shake this one off, too. Yet every time he considers that as an option, his chest feels tight and uncomfortable and he is hit with wave after wave of desire to stick by his side through this new ordeal. His face contorts. Craig wishes he had someone to talk to about all this, but at the same time the thought of divulging his feelings to anyone makes him want to puke his guts out on principle. Craig splays out on the raggedy couch lost in cyclical, confusing thoughts until the sun dips in the sky and natural light stops pouring in through his windows. It barely registers to him how much time has elapsed until there’s a gentle knock at his door.

He jumps so quickly to his feet that he nearly loses his balance before he can even stand upright. Shit, he never even took off his shoes from earlier. For that matter, he never tidied up and he never got his thoughts sorted out. Fuck. It’s only a few long strides from the couch to the door, but when Craig reaches the threshold he freezes. He’s nervous in a way he’s never felt before and he has to coax himself just to turn the door handle. He takes a deep breath in and then swings open the door on the exhale. It takes him a moment to realize he’s inadvertently closed his eyes. It’s only a moment before he manages to open them, but it feels like ages go by. Craig’s eyelids peel apart and there’s Tweek, standing less than a foot away from him. He’s wearing the same messy button-down shirt he wore at the cafe, but the apron is absent. He must have walked over straight after his shift. Neither of them greets each other with any traditional salutations, nor do they say anything at all for an amount of time that goes well beyond what would be considered polite or normal. Craig means to invite him in, but his words fail him. Finally, it’s Tweek who breaks the silence.

“Are you sitting alone in the dark…?” Tweek glances past Craig’s shoulder.

“No,” Craig lies much too quickly.

Tweek raises an eyebrow and makes an odd little skeptical grunt. Craig winces internally. It’s pretty clear that he was indeed sitting alone in the dark.

“I was gonna turn on the lights,” he adds on.

He takes a step back inside and starts walking towards the lamp. He still doesn’t directly invite Tweek in, though he does make a weird little hand gesture at him to signal as much. Tweek gets the hint and steps inside. He’s just as weird and anxious as ever, it would seem. Craig turns on the light and watches for a moment as Tweek darts his eyes in every direction and wrings his hands. It’s comforting, in its way. While Craig feels something similar to pity for Tweek’s state, he also somewhat selfishly feels comforted in knowing he’s not the only one feeling out of sorts. He flippantly kicks his shoes off where he stands and returns to his former spot on the couch. It’s still warm. Tweek follows suit and perches on the other end. Craig chews on his lip for a moment, then he abruptly addresses the issue head-on.

“So you’re sure you’re pregnant?”

“WAAGGHHH!”

Tweek wails and throws his hands into his hair. All the tension between them breaks and is replaced by sudden frantic energy. Limbs flail and Tweek’s scratchy voice resounds like a swarm of agitated hornets. Craig should really be used to this sort of response by now, but he’s still growing accustomed to it, and with all his own turmoil to contest with as well, it takes him too long to respond adequately. Tweek carries on for another few moments before Craig’s arm reaches forward and grasps him by the shoulder.

“Tweek! It’s okay, Tweek, calm down!” Craig attempts to earn his attention through the force of his words, but without the command of their mixed pheromones, it’s not a very fruitful endeavor.

Craig’s at a loss– he can only wait uselessly until Tweek exhausts himself. In time, he does. He’s reduced to a quivering mess. Back in the cafe, he wasn’t this out of control of himself. Craig supposes that being in the public eye probably encourages him to reel it in a bit. Or maybe it’s just that being back in the place where everything shook out is a lot more stressful. It’s hard to discern right now. Regardless, when he tapers out into a quiet version of stress rather than a loud one, Craig offers a few meager apologies and the pair of them can only look into their own hands as the awkward silence resumes.

“Maybe…” Tweek begins, falters, takes a shaky breath, then begins again. “Maybe we can work up to that part of the conversation…?”

“Yeah,” Craig nods and agrees softly.

The irony of agreeing to start the discussion elsewhere and lead into the heavy stuff is that neither of them quite knows where to start. They’re too familiar with each other to chat idly about classes and the weather, and they’re not quite familiar enough to be fully relaxed. It’s a version of hell Craig really hates enduring, but on the same token too, he finds himself craving that level of intimacy somehow. He just has no idea how to achieve it. Another beat passes and then Tweek’s stomach growls audibly.

“Are you hungry?” Craig asks, grateful for the segue.

A pink tinge crawls over Tweek’s face and his eyes twitch in embarrassment.

“Sorry, no, I’m fine!” Tweek squawks and waves his hands at Craig in refusal.

Craig frowns.

“It’s okay if you’re hungry,” Craig presses the matter, confused as to why anyone would be embarrassed over this. “I mean, I could eat.”

“Oh…” Tweek sighs a bit in relief. “I’ve been so stressed. Argh, I keep forgetting to eat at work. And, ngh, I get pretty sick of the same boring pastries all the time. Plus, my parents hate when I eat the inventory…”

“Your parents don’t feed you?” Craig raises an eyebrow, but when Tweek’s face morphs to one of horror, he clamps up quickly and decides to potentially circle back to that one later. “Nevermind, it’s fine. Do you like Chinese food? I can order dinner for us.”

“There’s good Chinese food on campus?” Tweek asks, and his eyes light up a moment before he falters. “Ack, let me check my wallet and see how much cash I have.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Craig dismisses with a hand wave. “I’ve got my card saved on file.”

“You have your card saved on file?!” Tweek’s face switches quickly back to horror. “Oh god, how can you do that?! Aren’t you worried about them tracing you, man? Shit, what if they sell your information?! They’ll keep files on you, grarghgh, Jesus Christ... They can track you down and drain your accounts. They’ll find out where you live!”

“Uh,” Craig hesitates to respond. “I kinda have it set up to do that, Tweek. On purpose. They save my order, take the right amount of money out, and then bring it to my address. That’s kind of exactly how delivery works.”

“What?!” Tweek yanks at his hair again. “What if they come back to rob you?! Or worse!”

“Do you… Uh… Should I not order food?” Craig once again doesn’t know what to do with himself, but this time it’s for a reason he definitely didn’t predict. “Do you just never order delivery?”

“Never,” Tweek confirms, staring directly at Craig with an intensely serious face. “Pick up only, cash only. No trail. Ever. If they’re going to get me, I’m gonna at least make it hard for them.”

Craig wonders for a moment about who ‘they’ might be.

“Tell ya what,” Craig leans back on the couch and opens the familiar menu on his phone anyway. “I’m gonna order like I usually do. And if anything bad happens, I’ll protect you. Okay?”

Tweek wrings his hands and chews on his lip thoughtfully. It seems like he’s really giving this some deep consideration. Eventually, he gives a single nod of agreement.

“Okay.”

As per usual, Craig selects a few cheap noodles along with some chicken that comes drenched in a salty, messy sauce and adds on an order of spring rolls just for good measure. This time, however, he doubles the quantity. He places the order and drops his phone in his lap. The delivery never really takes that long. It’s a good thing, too. Even though it’s only just begun, Craig can tell this is going to be a long night.