Mana here. Welcome to the beginning of this new Stylish series! If you've read Fire before, this will pretty much be the same; oneshots, and what not. And then you're all "aww we want change!" It's kuu though, since I'm gonna try my best to make this series a lil more Kyle-centric than the last one. If you're new here, welcome! And enjoy.
This fic, I'm basing it on one of my greatest fears. And who better to share the same phobia as me than Kyle? I'm seriously, I'm really scared of balloons. Last week there was this huge ass balloon by my locker that looked like it had been blown upon breaking point and then suddenly it just popped and I was all "ZOMGJESUSCHRIST" It was scary.
Balloons
Kyle was scared of a lot of things. Cartman's crazy schemes, Ike getting hurt, being ugly, Peru, you name it. But what was particularly scary was balloons.
Every year when it was one of the girls' birthdays, their friends would bring them a bunch of balloons that would sit in the class for the rest of the day. It made Kyle nervous; each one of those balloons was a land mine that could to off with just a simple prick. He'd grow anxious when so much as an un-blown piece of Mylar was within 20 feet of his radius; balloons popped and the sound was so startling it made him jump every time.
Despite his fears, he tried his best to keep a stern composure when in the presence of those colorful blown up spheres. He didn't want anyone to find out his irrational fear thinking he was a pussy or worse, use it against him.
On a chilly December day, Cartman, Stan, Kyle and Kenny stood at the bus stop as they did every morning. As usual on a day in December, Cartman would complain about Kyle's being Jewish.
"Goddammit Kahl," he huffed, "now, I can't even say 'Merry Christmas' at school or else I'll get suspended."
"It's not my fault!" Kyle countered, "I don't know what the big deal is, I don't care if someone tells me 'Merry Christmas!'"
"Stop lying, you fucking Jew rat."
"I'm not lying!"
But Cartman didn't let it go. That day he decided to stick it to the Jew good. Scare the crap out of him, so he thought of the most perfect way possible.
"Hey Stan," he called to the black-haired boy, "c'mere."
Stan, confused, walked over.
"Let's play a joke on Kyle."
"Cartman, I'm not gonna do anything to hurt Kyle."
"No, no, it's not gonna hurt him. In fact, he'll probably find it sweet."
"Ok…depends. What do you have in mind?"
Cartman whispered his plans to Stan. Stan's face drew a smile.
"That does sound pretty sweet, actually. Let's do it!"
"Killer."
Later that day, Kyle and Stan were walking down the halls toward the cafeteria. Stan and Cartman had their plan set, and Stan was doing his part well. This was going to be epic.
"I can't believe Craig killed Kenny," Kyle said.
"Dude! Craig's such a douche."
"Yeah! I mean, all Kenny did was talk about Craig's mom's cat and then he fucking took Garrison's gun from his desk and shot him."
"Seriously, he needs to chill."
Stan spotted Cartman from behind him and nodded.
"Hm?" Kyle asked.
Suddenly a loud shot filled the air. Stan hit the floor with a crashing thud and Kyle screamed bloody murder.
"STAN!!"
Stan remained motionless.
"Goddammit!" He picked up Stan's limp body frantically and turned it over, but to his surprise, Stan's face was smiling, trying to suppress laughter.
"What the hell?"
Cartman entered the scene with a huge smirk on his face and shredded red Mylar in his hands. Kyle eyed the rubber and quickly turned red; it was a balloon Cartman had popped behind them and Stan purposely fell to add fear. It was just a trick. A trick that had gotten the better of him.
"Oh my God!" Cartman roared with laughter, "you fucking screamed like a girl, Jewboy!"
Stan then rose from the linoleum and joined Cartman in the laughter.
"Haha, seriously Kyle, you should have heard yourself! I'm surprised I didn't go deaf, since I was standing right next to you!"
But Kyle however didn't partake in his friends' laughter of a well thought out prank. He instead grew teary and began shaking.
"THAT'S NOT FUNNY YOU GUYS!"
And he ran off, leaving Stan and Cartman blinking dumbly in his dust. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"Goddammit Cartman you said it wouldn't hurt him!"
"He's not bleeding is he?" He asked sarcastically.
"You fucking suck so hard!"
Stan abandoned Cartman in the halls to look for Kyle. The Jew was pretty good at disappearing; Stan checked the usual places Kyle would be when he needed a place to hide but still no sign of him.
After much searching, he finally spotted him sitting against a large oak, face buried in his knees.
Crap, Stan thought.
"H-hey, Kyle?" He knelt down next to him at the tree and patted his back. Kyle wriggled away from his touch.
"Why'd you do it Stan?" He said shakily, "that seriously wasn't funny."
"Sorry dude, Cartman was the one who suggested it."
"And since when do you listen to Cartman?"
Stan sighed. He spotted a particular blade of grass in front of him and began playing with it with his finger.
"Well, I dunno, we thought you'd like it."
"Well I didn't," Kyle shifted upward.
"Why not?"
Kyle didn't want to tell Stan about his real reason for not approving of their little "joke." He didn't want to share his weakness, not even with his best friend. It was something that was personal.
"Did you think I was really shot, Kyle?"
Kyle blinked, but decided to play on to that thought.
"How do you think you'd feel if you best friend was suddenly shot and he dropped dead right beside you? Do you think that's funny, Stan?"
"Nah, guess not. But if some cop did think I was shot, he'd think Cartman was the one who killed me and the he'd shoot him."
"That would be pretty sweet," Kyle lit up. Stan laughed with him and patted him on the back.
"There ya go," he said, "ready to go back now?"
The two left the playground and went back to the cafeteria and sat down at their usual table. Everything was going well until Bebe decided to have her little birthday celebration among the tight group of girls.
Kyle paled when he saw the bundle of colorful balloons sitting beside her. He eyed them suspiciously; he knew it wouldn't pop unless something poked it, and since they were floating high up above everyone, he doubted they would pop any time soon.
That is, until a green one suddenly burst with a loud bang. The girls screamed and so did Kyle, much to his embarrassment.
"Whoa dude," Stan said once Kyle had recovered, "you ok?"
"Y-yeah," Kyle pulled himself together.
Then Stan moved in closer, whispering to the Jew, "you're scared of balloons, aren't you?"
Kyle blushed. "How'd you find out?"
"Oh, I've noticed you for quite some time now," he winked.
Then he turned to Cartman, who was holding a slingshot loaded with a thumbtack aimed towards the girls' table.
"Hey fatass, not cool," he grabbed the slingshot from him before he could fire another tack, "you shouldn't pop a girl's balloon when it's her birthday."
"Yeah," the rest of the boys' table joined Stan.
"That's just weak," Clyde said.
"What an asshole," Token added.
"Ay! What is this?" Cartman asked, "I thought we agreed that girls are lame!"
"That doesn't give you any right to be mean to them, though," Craig said, "you should just get out of the lunchroom. No one here wants you anyway."
"Yeah!" The rest of the table interjected.
Cartman tried to make a comeback to defend himself but it didn't work. Eventually he gave up, screwed those guys, and went home.
Stan nudged Kyle with his knee under the table once everything settled down.
"All better?" He whispered.
"Dude that was sweet, thanks."
Then he took a bite out of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, enjoying it without the threat of a popping balloon interrupting its awesome deliciousness.
XX
I made Bebe have a December birthday…I've always felt she was a December baby, just like me. Which is odd, because that's the only connection I feel to her, and it probably isn't real.
Well, I'm finished with the first chapter, tell me how it went, ok?
