You've Gone, I've Gone Insane.
Prologue
When I was younger, I had died on a regular basis. More bizarre, I always 'came back.' The last time I died and returned was when I was about ten. It's difficult to explain what being dead even means, let alone how it feels. Something bad would happen, and everything would get hazy. I'd feel like I was in a nightmare as my body attempted its final lurch to keep me alive. My heart rate would increase sporadically, my vision would blur, and sounds got stretched out until it all faded. In the past, my friends would group around me in a panic. As time went on, that changed. Sometimes, Stan would mutter an "Oh my God, they killed Kenny!" and pause for Kyle to reply, then off they went. After that, I'd begin drifting toward either Hell or Heaven, depending on how I'd acted that week, and then enter. I arrived in the two places so often that, after a while, I stopped getting acknowledged. It was like I wasn't noticed no matter if I was living or dead.
Maybe God hated me. I'm sure of that now.
Part 1
It was the day that we were idly throwing pebbles into Stark's Pond as sophomores, Stan and I, when it happened.
I was switching back and forth between skipping pebbles across the glassy-black surface of the pond and observing Stan. His face was comically screwed up in concentration as he flicked his wrist at the water, and the stone hopelessly sank. It had always been endearing how Stan took everything so seriously, from checkers to brushing his teeth.
Stan scowled and sat on the bench behind me, staring across the pond. The chunks of snow clinging to his incredibly-dark hair looked like cotton balls, and he was shivering. He glanced up at me with exasperation.
"Jesus Christ, Kenny, put a damn jacket on or something. You're going to freeze to death," he said with slight worry.
I ignored him, because I wasn't that cold, but replied with "How long do you think it's gonna take to freeze Stark's?" as I sat beside him. Stan shrugged and pulled his coat tighter around himself. I'd always been jealous of him. Stan's coat was new and warm, while what I was wearing was a plain black shirt probably older than me that I found in the closet. Another reason to be envious of my best friend was that he looked classically handsome with his straight nose, chiseled jaw, and grey-blue eyes. I, on the other hand, had messy blonde hair that never stayed down and dirt always on my face. Stan was athletic and broad-shouldered, while I was horribly lanky from lack of food. We looked like polar opposites.
"Alright, get Cartman. We've finished the taco run" said Kyle from behind us. Stan and I stood up. Kyle was holding a greasy bag that said 'Taco Hut', and his nose and cheeks were bright pink. He'd always been the shortest and thinnest of us, definitely making him feel colder than Cartman, who had a thick layer of fat to keep him warm. Next to Kyle was Wendy, looking just as cold and holding his hand. They had started dating eight months ago, and I thought they were a good couple, both being passionate and the smartest in our grade. I remember that I had asked Stan how he felt about that since he had dated Wendy before, and he had replied quietly "That was like five years ago, and besides, I'm after someone else." I had dropped the subject.
I left the group and walked around the edge of the pond until I saw Cartman. He was sitting on one of the many benches surrounding the area and listening to his j-pod. Without bothering to make small talk, I yelled at him to get his fat ass to Kyle's van so we could leave. He replied with a "Fuck you, poor boy." as he stood up. When I got back to the group, Kyle was enthusiastically making out with Wendy, and Stan had sat back down.
" 'Kay, guys, let's drive to my house. I need to pick something up," said Kyle, giving Stan, Cartman, and I a wink before pulling Wendy to his van. We followed. Kyle had planned Wendy a surprise birthday party, and all the guests were currently hiding in random areas of his parent's living room. Kyle wanted everything to be perfect for his girlfriend. I, on the other hand, was just impressed that Cartman hadn't spilled the beans about the party yet.
Kyle slid behind the wheel and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel eagerly. Everyone piled in, Cartman calling shotgun. The ride to Kyle's mostly consisted of him and Cartman arguing about Judaism, Wendy humming along to the radio, and Stan and I staring out the window.
When we arrived, I noticed that all of the guests must have been smart enough to park around back. I saw Kyle breathe a sigh of relief at that, and then open the van door for Wendy. He ushered her towards the steps as Cartman grabbed the tacos for the party from the dash board and followed, picking out an especially greasy one. Stan and I stood on the icy driveway watching Wendy slip inside, followed by a loud shriek of "Happy Birthday!" from all of her friends. I cringed. I had always hated loud noises, particularly those that came from people.
I took a step towards the porch, motioning for Stan to come on. He made no move to, so I backed up. I didn't want to leave him by himself. Stan was blatantly staring. It made me feel pretty awkward.
"Let's take a walk," he said, gesturing towards the sidewalk. Stan turned around without waiting for a reply, and I followed. It couldn't have been above 30 degrees, yet I felt warm. I must have been blushing. Neither of us had said anything for a few minutes, and I was getting nervous. There was only one thing that Stan could have to confront me about, and I was hoping fervently that he wouldn't.
Abruptly, Stan turned left and entered a forest. I hesitated and then followed him. I hardly registered the trees getting sparser until we hit a brook which I assumed led to Stark's. Stan stopped on the riverbank, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
"Do you think the pond's frozen now?" I said, attempting to break the silence. Stan suddenly seemed interested in his shoes, because he was staring down. The snow seemed to be dive-bombing out of the sky, which was becoming dark. I felt cold again. He was going to bring it up soon.
After another uncomfortable minute, Stan looked up at me intensely. "Dude, I brought you out here for a reason." I didn't respond. Of course I knew that.
"Go on, then. Say whatever you have to."
Stan grimaced and returned his gaze to his shoes. He seemed like he didn't want to bring it up, just keep everything normal as usual between us. I prayed that he'd just drop the subject, but he didn't.
"….why did you kiss me earlier?"
It had happened after school today. Stan and I were hanging out, as usual, and there was nowhere to go. Stan said, with a grin, that he was in the mood for swinging. I suggested South Park Elementary's playground. We hadn't been there in at least five years. Everything was white, including the snow on the gravel and the bars suspending the swing-set seats. I had sat with my legs bent nearly up to my chest because of my height, gazing up at him. I noticed that his pale skin perfectly matched the snowfall around us. "Well?" I had said, "Aren't you gonna swing?"
"Now that I'm here, I don't know if I want to anymore." Stan said, chuckling. "You look kinda like an r-tard." I pretended to be annoyed. Then he had started towards the road, as if going home, but I saw him sneakily pack a handful of a nearby drift into a snowball. As he turned around, he whipped it at me and hit me in the face. I fell off the seat.
"Dammit, Stan! Face-shots are illegal! You know that!" I said as I packed myself a stack of snowballs.
"I'm sorry that I have sweet aim," he retorted, also preparing his own supply.
For the next half hour, we had an extremely epic snowball fight. Nearing the end, Stan made a snowball about the size of Cartman's ass and had started chasing me. I didn't want to get any colder, since I wasn't wearing a coat, so I tried to run away. I was running, but couldn't hear Stan panting while following me anymore, so I stopped. When I turned around, he was sprinting at me. He'd given up on the giant snowball and apparently found tackling me into the drift behind me just as good. The impact of Stan's body sent me deep into the drift with him on top of me, and I made one of the most life-changing, impulsive decisions of my life.
The only thing I saw before I pulled his face down to mine was his perfect smile, flickering slightly when I grasped him by the back of his neck. My lips mashed against his eagerly without thinking, and he responded by sliding his arms around my narrow waist and hanging onto me as if I was the only thing keeping him tethered to the Earth. I felt needed for the first time in my life. Looking back on it, I really don't recall who ended the kiss; it seemed to go on forever. What I do remember was the look on Stan's face when we stopped. He didn't get off me, just stared. His deep eyes appeared to have a voice of their own, expressing confusion, vagueness, and shock. I kept eye contact with him, filled with horror at what I'd done. Stan then realized (or comprehended) that he was still laying on top of me and scrambled away backwards, still staring. I stood up, brushed off my jeans, and said in a shaky voice, "See you at Wendy's party," before walking away alone. For the rest of the day, neither of us knew what to say and were acting like it had never happened.
"…Ken? Are you gonna answer?" Stan said, making me realize that I had no way out of this. My stomach felt like it was sinking. I looked at him with distraught eyes, quickly trying to find a reply. I was willing to do anything to keep us friends.
"It was an accident." I was lying.
"No, it wasn't," he said in disbelief. Stan's eyebrows were knitted closely together. He appeared to be in deep thought.
"I seriously don't know what I was thinking. It was a moment of insanity, and it didn't mean anything. I'm sorry. " The only true part was the apology. Stan nodded, but he still looked unsatisfied.
He turned away, seeming like he really wanted to say something. I knew that Stan wasn't buying my excuse, and I also knew I was in deep shit. Stan was never the type of guy to hold anything back at all, so what he wanted to say must have been a big deal. Instead, he stated numbly,
"You definitely seemed intent with what you were doing." As Stan said that, he departed. I didn't immediately follow; I was so disoriented because I had said exactly what I assumed Stan would want to hear, yet he'd stormed off. After I unfroze, I took off after him. The air I was taking in with gasps felt like it was stabbing my lungs, but I deserved the pain. I'd wrecked everything.
When I eventually found him, he was beside a fallen, rotting tree. At first I thought Stan was just catching his breath, but then I noticed the tears dripping down his cheeks. I approached him from behind and placed a hand on his trembling shoulder. He gasped at the touch as I said "Everything can go back to how it was. Just forget about it, okay?" My throat clenched. Stan turned at me, eyes blazing, and cried out:
"I can't 'just forget about it,' Kenny, because I don't fucking want to ever forget it. I've been hoping for that to happen for years, and now that it has, I can tell that it didn't mean shit to you!" Mentally exhausted, he slumped onto the log and covered his face with his hands. I felt like this new information was crashing into me. Stan? He likes his best friend? Which happens to be me? It was impossible. He'd won 'Best Looking' in yearbook every year so far, and the whole female population at our school was infatuated with him. If he could have pick of any of those chicks, then why the hell would he want me?
Then I thought about everything for a moment and was surprised to find that it was really a lot simpler that I was making it out to be. Maybe fate's real, I have no idea. Predestination or whatever you want to call it. What I do know is I felt like nothing could have gone any other way between us. I softly repeated "I'm sorry," causing Stan to let out a sob, but then I said "No, let me finish. I'm sorry that I never told you how I've felt all this time." When Stan looked up at me bemused, I reached down and lifted his chin, stooping to press my lips to his. At first he didn't react, but then he stood up and deepened the kissing, hanging onto me. It all felt so natural. I knew that I would be content for now on only when I was feeling Stan's heartbeat. His heart, at the moment, was drumming against the thin material of my shirt. It was like I was dreaming out loud.
I had found a reason to live: Stan.
(((I came up with the idea of this story at about three in the morning when I had a song stuck in my head. I'm planning one or two more chapters on this, but I'll feel much more encouraged to upload faster if I get reviews. 8 ) So, PLEASE let me know how I'm doing.)))