Misinterpret

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Summary: Merriam-Webster says to misinterpret is "to understand wrongly." Maybe I shouldn't have skipped that definition…

-.-

He comes up alongside me in the hallways as our class heads to lunch and pulls me aside.

"Hey there," he says, which is quite an odd greeting, see how long we've known each other. "I ah…I wanted to tell you something."

"You couldn't have waited until lunch?" I ask, quite confused. That tone of voice is one he uses when he's hitting on people. Is he hitting on me? I've carried the weight of a crush on him ever since eighth-grade football. Two years later, and I think he's hitting on me.

"Erm…it's kinda private, actually," he says, rubbing the back of his head in a nervous fashion.

"Well?" I ask as the rest of our class disappears around the corner. "What is it, Stan?"

"I…uh…I…I…I'vebeendreamingofyouforthepasttwoweeksandIreallyneedtodothis!!" he says, moving swiftly forward to pin me against the lockers and press his lips onto mine. It's a sweet feeling, his soft lips on mine, his tongue fighting mine…me able to taste the cinnamon on the gum he was chewing before the end of the period. All too soon he pulls away.

"Erm…does this mean what I think it does?" I ask, flustered. He looks at me quizzically.

"Erm…yes?"

"You think I'm a fucking girl?"

"What!?! No I don't think you're a girl!! You're Kyle! And I think I've fallen in love with you." He's … what, with me?

"You don't want me to be a girl?"

"No! I hate girls!"

"So, if I was a girl –" I start, but I'm interrupted.

"But you're not."

"If I WAS, would you still like me?"

"IF you were a girl, which you're NOT, I would probably be dating Kenny," he answers.

"What!?! Kenny? What makes him so great? He dies every other day! He's dead right now? You'd want that over me, just because he doesn't have tits!?!"

"Kyle…why are you asking me this? Did…you didn't get a sex change, did you?"

"NO!" I insist. "I did nothing of the kind!!! I would appreciate a little respect here, Stan!"

"Just because I said I wouldn't date you if you were a girl, you blew up on me! What the hell do you expect me to think?" he replies.

"Well anything other than that! I just wanted to know if you'd love me unconditionally!! Obviously you won't! You just want me because you think I'm easy! I'm the best friend, I'm easy pickings! Kenny you'd actually have to work on a little!"

"That's so not true!" he insists, tears building up in his eyes. "How could you say something like that!?!"

"If it isn't true, why are you crying?" I ask, seething. "You just want me cuz Kenny's dead right now!!"

"No, I want you 'cause I want you!!" he insists.

"No you don't, you want Kenny!" I declare, and he can't take it anymore. Sobbing, he turns on his heel and runs off in the other direction as I lean into the locker.

"You fucking moron," my inner self chides me. "That boy just tongue-kissed you in the hallway. That boy that you have wanted for two years just tongue-kissed you in the hallway. He does NOT want any Kenny!"

I bang my head back against the solid metal door. I should go after him, and apologize to him. Make up some psychobabble and attribute it to Freud as to why I went off on him. Maybe jokingly ask him if we should invite Kenny for a threesome sometime.

Yes…that's what I'll do. Fuck lunch…I've got a boyfriend to get. He ran off sobbing down the Home Ec wing…I'll head down that way, see if I find him.

I go about fifty feet down the hall before I hear sobbing coming from the hallway that leads to the Cooking classes. Stan's sobbing… Curious, I move in that direction, and I get to the corner when I hear someone murmuring words of comfort. Trying to calm him down. Someone who isn't me is comforting Stan! Furious, I turn the corner, to find Stan sobbing into Kenny's shoulder, while Kenny holds him close and is telling him it'll be alright. I can't believe it. I can't fucking believe it. I was right. Stan DOES want Kenny. He's letting Kenny do what I SHOULD be doing. And what's Kenny doing here anyway? He got run over by the bus!! He should be dead!!

"I CANNOT fucking BELIEVE YOU!!!" I shout, enraged at the sight before me.

"K-k-Kyle?" he stutters, while Kenny just has an "Oh, Shit" look on his face. Well, he damn well should. I'm gonna fucking kill him again!!

"I KNEW IT!" I scream, hands tugging at my hair to prevent them from wrapping themselves around someone's throat. "I was right! You DO want Kenny! You were just trying to get an easy lay out of me, weren't you, you fucking bastard!"

He quivers before me, unable to meet my eyes, unable to match my stare before dissolving into tears into Kenny again.

"You little worm!" I shout, unable to hold myself back anymore. "Lying fucking bastard! Do you know how long I'd wanted you to do that? Do you have any idea how fucking long!?! TWO YEARS! Two years of wanting you! And then you do this to me as a PRANK!?! FUCK YOU!!"

"Kyle!" Kenny shouts, worming free of Stan and jumping up to confront me. "What the hell, dude? What is wrong with you? There's nothing going on between me and Stan!"

"Oh, yeah, I don't believe that for a second!" I shout back. "If you two aren't together, why were you holding him like that? Cradling him like a wounded lover! Whispering in his ear! I fucking SAW YOU!"

"You dumbass, I was comforting him because he needed a friend! When I passed by, he had shut himself up in a locker and was even in more of a shambles than he is now! He thinks you hate him!" Kenny says, trying to shake my rage off. It ain't going anywhere. I've been betrayed by two of the people I hold most dear.

"Well guess what, Kenny?" I seethe, shoving him off me and glaring at him. "He's right. I DO hate him. I hate you, and I hate him." I pause and I stare at Stan, his watery eyes pleading with me. "I hate you and I wish you were DEAD," I hiss, walking over to kick Kenny in the nuts before leaving.

"I don't ever want to see either of you again."

-.-

It was all over the school by the time I got to my fifth period history class. A Home Ec class walking back from lunch had found them.

Kenny was beside himself with grief, and avoided me for the rest of our high school days. After we graduated, he jumped a bus and left South Park. I don't know where he is now.

And Stan?

I visit Stan's grave every day. I tried to turn myself into the police, but they didn't believe a word of it. There were no ligature marks, gunshot wounds, or stab wounds on his body, and the tox screen came back negative. They wouldn't allow me to confess to his murder.

I live with the guilt every day, knowing that things could have been different. Knowing that I HAD killed Stan. Because I managed to get my hands on the coroner's report from the autopsy, and a copy of the death certificate through a Freedom of Information Act request. They weren't going to turn down the former managing editor of the New York Times, especially not for something as trivial as the death certificate of some old teenager in Colorado.

Stan Marsh, 15 years old, had died, literally, of a broken heart.

-.-

Author's Notes: God…this is so sad…the original version of this ended quite nicely. But I lost that one and when I tried to reconstruct it…this happened.

sigh

Phoenix II