Craig Tucker was a 6'2" sophomore—though he insisted he was 6'3"—and the kind of calm that made people second-guess if he even had emotions. His messy, unbrushed black hair was always hidden beneath his blue winter hat with yellow strings that ended in small yellow pom-poms. The hat had practically fused to his head at this point. He wore his usual blue sweater jacket, the one with star patches his nervous blond boyfriend, Tweek, had sewn on because Craig always ripped it while skateboarding—and because Tweek liked stars. His black pants were simple, worn in, and matched his low-maintenance vibe. His tan skin, courtesy of his Peruvian side, was dotted with moles—too many to count—but four stood out on his face. His dark hazel eyes were always calm and unreadable, framed by the faint shine of braces when he occasionally spoke. His voice was monotone, with a slightly nasal tone that made everything he said sound both flat and unintentionally funny.

Craig leaned against the row of lockers, his skateboard propped beside him, half-listening as Clyde rambled about his new date with Bebe. He nodded every few sentences, scrolling through his phone with one hand while absentmindedly chewing gum. His nails were chipped and messily painted black—Tweek had done them last week, his shaky hands leaving uneven strokes that Craig never bothered to fix. Tweek wasn’t here today, which made everything feel duller, quieter. Without his twitchy, coffee-stained chaos around, Craig didn’t see much of a reason to talk.

Every now and then, his calm eyes flicked toward the hallway entrance, scanning the crowd to see if Tweek had finally shown up. But he hadn’t. Just more noise, more people he didn’t care about. Craig’s expression didn’t change, though—a blank mask of calm detachment as he stared at his phone again. He was the kind of guy who flipped people off as a greeting and called almost everyone “dude,” never bothering to learn half their names. The only exception was Tweek. To Craig, he wasn’t “dude”—he was Honey.

The only things that really mattered to Craig were Tweek, his guinea pig Stripes (which Tweek had given him), and his favorite show, Red Racer. Everyone else could disappear, and he wouldn’t bat an eye. He didn’t hate them exactly—he just didn’t care. Not when his Honey Tweek wasn’t around.*