1. Bunny-The Kiss.
He knew it was coming before it came. Butters sat beside him, grasping for words, so unsteady and confused, and he knew he'd kiss him then.
Butters, was not mistaken. His breath caught in his throat when Kenny did, because no matter how much he may have expected it, he could never have expected this. This feeling, that perhaps his heart would force its way out of his chest, that perhaps it would be okay. His head spun and his pulse raced, and he knew that if the moment lasted forever, it would still be ending too soon.
However, he was not granted forever. He was granted only a moment, and when it was finished, he felt the weight of reality crashing down on him. He felt a thousand things he knew he'd never be able to adequately explain with words, and he longed only to be kissing Kenny again.
And when Kenny's face changed from bliss to concern, Butters knew he was displaying these things openly, too openly, ruining such a perfect moment. He held back the tears as he tried to explain, spent the next hours trying, the worries, the confusion, the pure utter happiness.
Eventually, his thoughts slowed down. His worry ebbed away. His mind cleared, and he realized what he had experienced. The Kiss. He had been given what he'd wanted most for so long now, had been kissed by the best man he knew. By the man who, for some most unexplainable reason, wanted to kiss him. It was enough to boggle, true. But for a while the worry ceased, and he floated.
He floated every day after that, he floats even now, as his life continues to be filled to overflowing with the wonder Kenny brings. If Butters had known then what he feels now, there would have been no concern. Only love. As it should be.
2. Style-Crush
He moved his arm so it went across my back, the moment I'd been dreaming of was here. I said the words again although this time they came out quieter, and softer. "I can hear your heartbeat, again." I couldn't remember the last time I'd said something in that tone, the softly said words where very different from my usually way of speaking.
He moved his head, at that moment, my heart went faster. Was he kissing my head? I thought, or is he just? I didn't want to think about it. He lifted his head, and went back to where it was previously. I moved my head a little, so I wasn't burying my face in his shoulder.
Then, we broke from the hug, and stood there. I looked around no one had seen it happen, neither passer by, nor the friends we were with. I had so many things going through my head at that moment.
Stan and I didn't really speak for the rest of the lunch break. We were silent, which was odd, for me anyways, I would normally be yelling at Cartman. I sighed, was this all because I'd accidentally said 'well, why does everyone think he and I are going to kiss? I mean, even though I wan to kiss him,' when he was standing right next to me.
My mind had been on him for most of the day; well, why it wouldn't be. He was my boyfriend, after all. And my feelings for him were strong, the strongest feelings I'd ever had for someone. I wondered why, though, not because we were both guys, but because he, and I had been super best friends, right before I developed a crush on him.
"And that's what happened." I said, shyly too Kenny and Butters. I knew it wasn't a big deal, though a long hug, and a sort of kiss on the head. I heard Kenny start speaking.
"Dude you have to get in there! Get your tongue in there!"
After that statement, I would have blushed, but instead I had a confused look on my face. "Uh, well you see… I was thinking, maybe I should go with what everyone's saying and you know… Take our relationship slowly."
Slowly, maybe that was what the relationship needed. That was it. I made up my mind. I was going to let the little relationship go at its own, I mean this was probably the most serious relationship I'd ever had. And it was also the first time I was going out with someone of the same gender. But then again, you can't help who you get a crush on, can you?
3. Stendy-I'm Gay
"Wendy, we need to talk." Stan whispered, carefully placing his book on the small wooden table. Her eyes immediately darted toward his face, concern written all over them.
"What is it, Stan?" She asked quietly. He quickly glanced around the room, taking note of all the students laboring over their school work. A few of them wander through the maze of bookshelves, others typed away violently on their keyboards, completely unaware of the outside world. He earnestly hoped they wouldn't turn into witnesses.
"I'm gay," he blurted out. Wendy let out a few laughs, cool relief washing her face. "God, Stan. You really had me scared there. I thought you were going to break up with me." She released another chuckle, picked up her novel, and resumed her reading.
"Wendy, I am breaking up with you. I'm gay." She stared at him, eyes wild with confusion and fury. "WHAT?!" She shouted, her voice breaking the calm, concentrated quiet of the library. The typing ceased, the foot steps came to halt and every head jerked toward them. Somehow, the silence became more encumbering than before.
"Wendy," he whispered urgently. "It's not you, I'm gay."
"You're being serious?" Her voice was still a few volumes to high. "Yes, Wendy. I like guys."
"I don't believe you."
"Wendy, I'm not lying. I swear to God."
"What the fuck Stan! How can you be gay?"
"Um, I really don't know. It's not something that I can choose, you know."
"Are you sure? How can you be so sure?"
"It's been like this for a while, I just couldn't admit it to myself. I just noticed it when I started liking Kyle a few weeks ago."
"Oh god," she breathed. "What's wrong with me? Am I that bad of a girlfriend?"
"No, Wendy! You're perfect. I still love you, you know. But this is something that can't be helped."
Her bottom lip quivered, and her eyes grew wet with emotion. He embraced her warmly, and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.
"I still love you too, you know, but this really sucks." She admitted between sniffles. "Can we at least stay friends?"
Stan smiled sweetly at her and squeezed her hand. "Anything for you, Wendy." He said.
4. Grestophe-Bestfriends
I walked into my bedroom and sighed, wishing everything would just disappear. Sitting on my bed, I pulled out a sheet of blank computer paper and a pencil. I stared at the paper for a moment, wondering what to draw. I wasn't an artist, and I knew it. Most of my friends were blessed with the gift, but not me. But sometimes drawing was just a good way for me to get something out. Now, as I stared at the page, I realized I wanted to fall into it. The world inside the paper was so blank, void of feelings, void of anything. I couldn't ruin the beautiful void with a drawing. Setting the paper aside, I thought about what had happened.
Christophe and I had never hand an argument, at least not like this. One time, we stood at opposite ends of my front lawn for a while, blowing off steam, before forgiving each other without even an apology. That was probably when we were six. Another, and the only other time I remember, I hit him in the head with his own shovel. That one was resolved when we got bored and started throwing dirt at each other. We were twelve. But not this time, there would be no resolution this time. I had never left his house angry, and vice versa. We were best friends, partners. Until today.
I looked around the room, wishing for something that would cheer me up. I glanced at my bulletin board, no go. There was a picture of our sixth grade graduation tacked to it, along with a key chain he'd given me, which read, "Meilleur Ami."
I lunged for my remote, hoping that some stupid program or another could take my mind off the fight still raging in my mind. I flipped through channels, until Cartoon Network popped up, and saw that Pokemon was on. Ew, I thought. It wasn't that I didn't like the show, it was that I hadn't watched it since I was about seven. But as I was about to flip the channel, I saw that it was an old episode. It had come out when I was about five or six. The episode that had something to do with this lady who turned to stone after waiting for her lover at sea to come back for her. To put it short, Brock was taken under the spell of some ghost Pokemon, and when he awoke, his first words were. "Huh? Who am I? I am Brock. Hmph." The hmph was as he was nodding, as if confirming to himself that he was Brock.
I remembered when I was little I watched that episode with Christophe. That night, he slept over my house. We were little, and quoting that episode seemed so fun at the time. We stayed up all night that night, saying stupid things like, "Huh? Who am I? I am lamp post. Hmph." I couldn't even remember how many variations there had been. It's funny, I thought as I tried to remember what I had for breakfast that morning. I can't remember my last meal, but I can remember something from years ago. I knew it was because it was a wonderful memory of having fun with my French best friend. My best friend, not anymore.
Tears began to stream down my face. I don't know how long I was sitting there. I listened to music, I read a little, but nothing could keep my mind off of things. My wallowing was interrupted by my cell phone ringing. Instinctively, I picked it up checking the caller ID. The call was coming from Christophe's house. He must be calling to apologize, though I doubt it. I had started the argument, and I would be the one to apologize, when I was ready. I answered anyways.
"Hello?" I asked in a normal tone.
"Bonjour Gregory, eet es Miss. DeLorn." The voice on the other side said.
"Hi, Miss. DeLorn." I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice. It was Christophe's mother.
"You left your jacket 'ere." She said, but I hardly heard here.
"Oh, thanks, I guess I'll pick it up in a few minutes. Miss. DeLorn? Can you tell Christophe I'm really, really sorry?" I asked hesitantly.
"Of course Gregory." Her voice sounded so reassuring. I hung up and put my shoes on, ready to go get my jacket. I just prayed to the god Christophe hated so much everything would be alright.
5. Creek-Too Much Pressure
It was a cold morning, wind howling through the streets of South Park as people buzzed around the city, people chattering and laughing to one another as they walked into shops they adored. A young boy sat outside his parent's coffee shop typing away nervously at his laptop before taking a sip from his hot beverage.
He glanced around worriedly at all the surroundings of South Park before looking down once more at the screen in front of him. Sighing he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples before leaning forward, and continuing to type furiously.
He stopped to pick up his beverage and took a deep sip, jumping at the touch of the coldness it had become in the short period of time. He cursed himself before closing his laptop and standing up. His chair screeched on the pavement making him jump again as he felt somebody bump into the metal chair before swearing again.
He turned around his messy blonde hair covering a bit of his face, as his jaw dropped. "Ah! I'm sorry." He said as his eye twitched.
"It's okay, you didn't realize I was behind you." His said as his blue eyes raked over his body.
"I'll buy you AH- another coffee." He replied. "My treat?" He shrugged and smiled, "You twisted my arm, Clyde will be mad if I don't bring his coffee back, if you don't mind?" Tweek smiled. "Ah! It's only coffee." He couldn't believe what he just said, but for some reason he wanted to sound cool in front of the other man.
"I'm Craig." He replied wiping his hands on his jeans before holding his right hand out for Tweek to shake. "Tweek," He replied smiling, their gaze stayed on each other for what seemed like eternity before looking down at their feet.
Tweek grabbed his laptop and looked back at Craig smiling. They walked back into his parent's shop and waited in line.
"What can I get you Tweek?" Richard asked his son as Tweek looked down to see how many coffees Craig was carrying.
"AH! Um can I have five coffees dad?" He said, including himself. The pair stayed quiet for a minute before Craig moved over to the bin and emptied the paper tray out as Richard handed Tweek the coffees.
"Thanks." Tweek and Craig said in unison and Tweek handed Craig the tray.
"I better go its nice meeting you." Craig said as a brown haired boy walked into the coffee shop smiling at Craig. "Ready?" Clyde asked as Craig nodded. "Yeah." Craig replied walking over to Clyde before turning back to Tweek. "Here's my number, call me." Tweek smiled feeling him self turn red. "AH! Thanks! Ah!"
"Bye." Craig replied smiling as Tweek blushed. Tweek gulped watching Craig walk out of the shop. "Ah! Too Much Pressure!"
6. Dip-Dance With The Devil's Son
There was something about Damien that unnerved Pip, but at the same time, he was captivated by the Anti-Christ. He was gorgeous when ever he moved, in those somehow graceful movements. He was raw, wild fury, unafraid to lash out at those who even dared to glance at Pip wrong. Sometimes he almost forgot that Damien was only his friend instead of something more.
He knew that Damien had feelings for him, even though he never told Pip. He could see it in his eyes whenever he looked at him. And it made Pip ecstatic.
Pip wanted him as much as he wanted Pip. Every time his fingertips would accidentally brush against Pip's arm, his hand, his skin, he would feel a rush of lust and passion. He yarned for Damien's touch, for his kisses.
He was trapped, trapped in a slow, agonizing dance with the devil's son and nothing could save him.
7. Craimas-Time And Space
Thomas lazily threw clothing into the washer, the water filling fast. He was bored, and had pressed Large Load instead of Small Load. There was a stain on one shirt. As Thomas struggled to get the shout out of the empty bottle, Craig nearly laughed out loud. He couldn't let Thomas see him, yet.
He was flirting with the blonde at lunch, and he went to hold his hand for the first time. Instead, he had ended up knocking over his Dr. Pepper.
"Shit! Cock! Fuck" Thomas repeated every ten seconds; he had got out the detergent and turned around. "Hey Thomas," Craig said, and he screamed. "SHIT!" Once more, whacking the open bottle of detergent into the washer. "FUCK!" He said when he realized.
"Well, fish it out." Craig said jokingly. It was too late the washer was overflowing with suds. Craig though for a moment, 'This is a dream moment. I love the laundry scenes in movies. I thought they were fiction!' They both moved to clean up, and fell, toppling on top of each other.
"FUCK!" Thomas and Craig both laughed, rolling around in the bubbles. Then as the bubbles reached their waist, they leaned side by side against the wall and slit to the floor.
Craig leaned in far and paused, Thomas leaned in barely, and Craig kissed him quickly. They both pulled away, standing up they started at the floor. Then they began to crack up and Craig began the make out session. Thomas melted into the kisses, not even breaking for his tourette spells. They rolled on the floor, and their clothing magically disappeared.
After painful and amazing sex, Thomas face was past it's normal peach, it was past magenta and red. It was dark, out of embarrassment, worry, laughter, and utter confusion. He realized the truth.
He wanted to remain a virgin. Craig began to kiss the blonde again, but he pulled away, and most of the bubbles were gone. Craig was kind, gentle, funny and his. But he needed space, and time. Time and Space. He'd understand hopefully.
8. Kyutters-Maple Syrup
"I HATE YOU CARTMAN!" I roared. Blood rushed to my face, and I resembled a steaming red tomato. Cartman looked like he was about to laugh, and this only made me hate him more. How dare he! That fatass!
A swarm of students were gathering around our lunch table to view the entertainment. It was rare to see me this animated. A few people whipped out cell phones, snapping still shots of the spectacle evidence that would later haunt me on Myspace.
From my aerial view, I could see a tiny blond head, pushing its way through the mob. Butters. Elbowing, kicking, and biting his way towards the front of the crowd.
Syrup bottle suspended in mid-air, I was halfway in the process of dumping its contents on Cartman's fat head, when a delicate hand gently clasped mine. I whipped around, intending to fling the intruder off the table, but thought otherwise when I realized that it was Butters.
"What do you want?" I spat, irritation reeking off my body like raw meat. His baby blue eyes bore into mine, and he placed his hands on my shoulders.
"Kyle." He said quietly, focusing on me with more intensity than I had ever seen him exhibit. "You need to calm down."
White. Black. Flash. Dead.
But I couldn't be dead. I smelled pancakes. Do they have pancakes in heaven? Rubbing my eyes, I tore the layers of blankets off my body and glanced at the clock. 5:00 A.M. Everyone was asleep, yet the scent of sugary pancakes still managed to infiltrate my nostrils. Maybe on of my family members made a late night snack.
My head buzzed, and everything seemed to throb. The red clock light pulsated, blurring my vision. Dizzy, I laid my weighted head on my pillow, squeezing my eyes shut.
That's when I felt it. A hard bulge protruded through my pillow, stabbing the side of my ear. Sliding my hand beneath the pillow, I grasped the foreign, lumpy plastic.
Even in the darkness, the object was easily recognizable. It was a half-filled bottle of maple syrup.
9. Grestophe-Goodbye
Mole knelt to the ground under the tree and placed Gregory's lifeless body in his lap. He ran his hand through his hair in despair and rocked back and forth grasping his love with all his might. He tried hard not to cry, but nothing could stop his tears with his knowing that his friend had been murdered,
Christophe began stroking the back of Gregory's neck while keeping his head tilted up toward the withering branches so he didn't have to see of his gruesome condition. He kept rocking knowing he'd have to look at Gregory, but looking at him would only upset him even more.
He clinched Gregory even tighter and finally peered down to him, but choked immediately when he saw what had happened to him. His entire face had been mangled by the bullet leaving nothing but open flesh and one limp eye. He continued to stroke the back of his neck while he leaned down to kiss him, and when he did, one lowly teardrop fell from his cheek and splattered on top of Gregory's cold nose.
He kept staring at him knowing he was finally in peace and he blinked while he watched his lifeless body, but chills suddenly ran up Mole's spin as he focused in on his eye. With all his strength, he looked up at Christophe with that loving stare Gregory had always given him. He watched him closely as the mercenary watched him, and while he couldn't do anything to help him, he leaned in and kissed Gregory once more and watched a small bloodied tear formed at the corner of the blonde's eye.
He began to weep and pressed his face into Gregory's orange dress shirt, and sat in peace and harmony against the tree clinching his friend close for at least a hour until the sun began to set and goose bumps ran up his skin from the cold breeze of winter. Once more he stared at him, and then placed him on the dirt under the swing. He got up and grabbed the cold handle of the shovel knowing there was nothing left to do but say goodbye.
10. Style-Nicest Ass
I'm not going to lie the first thing I noticed about him wasn't his smile or his demeanor, or anything like that. I mean, he was nice and smiling and all that. I could not, for the life of me, stop looking at his ass.
Of course, I actually tore my eyes away from that in embarrassment and hope he hadn't felt the weight of my eyes on him. How embarrassing would that be? "Hey dude, it's your second day here and I'm not weird or anything but you have the nicest ass." Yeah, that wouldn't be weird at all.
I didn't really talk to him much, and I kind of hope he doesn't think I don't like him. I doubt he cares, or even notices that I don't talk to him much, we rarely have any of the same classes. I see him smile, I smile, he smiles and my heart skips a beat. I go home and try to sleep and I think about him, about holding him and leaving trails of kisses and talking to him about little nothings. I think, I feel, I want to protect him.
I try to talk to him and my mouth glues itself shut. He is beautiful, his red jewfro, green eyes, everything, eventually I un-jam my lips enough to ask why he transferred here.
Because I'm confused, my heart's all a flutter, and this has never happened before. I don't know if it's him, or me, or what. So I keep my mouth shut and make mental notes to look things up later. And I certainly don't say anything to him.
No sense in making things awkward if I myself don't understand these things, especially since he's bound not to like me.
I'm a boy, after all, and he's got a girl friend, I've heard him say it, and I nod while I feel a little piece of me fall away at the unintentional rejection.
It's not love, it's infatuation I have with him, I can not help but smile around him. I barely even know him.
It doesn't feel so harmless, this crush. I'm not ashamed, but I'm afraid to say anything until I'm sure that this is really how I am. Silly to think we can change certain things about ourselves. But in my mind I think it's over and over, in thunderous tones.
I find myself wishing it was later in the year, so school would be over and I would go on vacation with my family where maybe I can understand why I can't take my eyes of Kyle. But for now I am to close to home, to uncertain of this to be able to open my mouth and say it.