Walking down the hallway, it was easy to get lost in your own thoughts. Mine were on my past at the moment, back when I was a three year old. The earliest memories I could actually comprehend had started when I had entered first grade, two years younger than most of the children. They had bullied me, which was porbably why the memories I was having now were the ones I remembered the most.
Walking past the mirror, I stopped for second to watch my own reflection. Not to be cocky or anything, but I was actually pretty good looking for a boy a year or two younger than his puberty filled classmates. My hair wasn't hippie long, but it was slightly longer than my brother's. It was completely raven colored, and the bangs fell into my gray colored eyes almost every minutes. . .Like now. My attire had gone from baby blue, to jeans and a green shirt, and finally to some creepier clothes that most people liked to call steampunk.
Steampunk was Fillmore's idea in the first place, but it was me who got the first outfit, being from a slightly richer family than his, I had been able to gode my parents into buying me three or four outfits by the time he had his first complete outfit, which pissed the older boy off temendously. I, on the other hand, had laughed my ass off everyday after when he only came to school once or twice a day a week in the same clothes for the longest time.
I blinked and shook my head. Lately, my past had been coming back to bite me in the ass, and I really didn't want to have any such dirt on my persona right now.
Sighing, I continued my small trekk into my brother's room. I pursed my lips and was about to knock on the oakish door when I heard a small gasp- moan maybe?- from behind the door. Quickly, being the bratty little brother that I was, I placed the pills my mom had gave me to give to my brother on the floor and pull the doorknob, and the door, toward me quietly. Gently, I turned the doorknob, making sure to keep the door toward me as to not bang it, and opened it without so much as a squeak.
The first thing that came within my eye sight was the heap of clothes on the floor. They consisted of two trademark items that could only have been found on two boys throughout the years.
One was a green square-like hat that obviously belonged to my older brother: Kyle Broflovski. The other was a blue head cap outlined on the bottom with red and topped with a red fuzzy ball. This item could've only been owned by none other than Stan Marsh himself.
I smiled and opened the door all the way, not thinking with my smart, AP brain at all at that moment. "What'cha guys doing, bro-?" I started to say, still smiling and not comprehending the scene before me.
Kyle cut me off before I could finish by screaming, "IKE! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM WITHOUT KNOCKING!?"
My eyes adjusted to the darkness in my brother's room and I stopped smiling. Before me lay my brother, his naked torso standing out among the darkness. Above him was an equally naked Stan, who was rubbing his lips and licking them. I blinked and my eyes grew wider.
"What're you doing!?" I yelled and then shielded my eyes, already knowing that answer. And before either of the two boys could speak, I quickly ran out of the room, yelling behind me, "Pills on floor beside door!"
The rest of the night, I spent in my room alone, only allowing access to my parents when they wanted a hug and a kiss goodnight. And as Kyle came to say goodnight, I shut my door and slipped a note under it that had a picture of arms and lips. Of course, I physically told him goodnight, but I wasn't touching him nor getting anywhere near my brother after what I had witnessed in his room.
To tell the truth, I had aways known my brother was gay, and I had even vaguely guessed that he loved Stan, but to have sex in your own house when your family was home was just completely sick!
The next day, I left really early, not even waiting to walk with my brother to my Junior High School.
As I entered school, I smiled to myself. What's Kyle gonna say, I wonder? I asked myself. I walked quickly through the hallways and before I could tell what was happening, I hit someone and fell on my ass.
"Oh my gosh!" I stated, trying to get up to help the person that had also fallen on their ass in the process. "I'm so sorry. . ." My voice trailed off as my mind registered who I was talking to.
The other looked at me also, his black eyes trailing down my face and back. His equally black hair parted to his left and fell into his left eye, covering it like a crescented moon. The boys' bottom lip was pierced with snake bites that made my stomache turn. . .Or maybe it was his lips and the way he was staring at me that made my stomache do flips. He stood up, revealing his black skinny jeans and t-shirt with a dead girl named Kerli plastered with a rope. His wallet was in his back pocket, hanging by the dark chain that only the "cool" kids could really wear right, and his arms were covered in black bracelets and other bracelets that stated "Goth" outright.
"Are you okay, Ike?" He asked, not offering his hand to help me up. That was to be expected from this guy though, because, after all, he was "the biggest non-conformist of them all."
I stood up, picking both his and my stuff up. "Yeah, I'm fine, Georgie. Thank you for asking", I stated, handing him his black notebook covered in ducktape and middle fingers.
The other stared at me, and I could feel my body heating up with the intense look. For some awkward reason, I just couldn't get a hold of my feelings whenever I saw Georgie, and I had blamed it on the fact that when Stan came over sometimes, he had the goth kids with him, for Stan still stayed in contact with them, and Georgie always freaked me out from all the others. Sure, Dylan liked to cuss and everyone in high school thought he had a vampire fetish, Ethan's smart ass remarks angered my mom who took it out on Kyle and me, and Henrietta liked to demote me a lot, but Georgie was the lone wolf of the pack, and I think that's why he freaked me out so damn much!
The bell rang, signaling that I should probably start heading to class. I waved goodbye to Georgie and started walking, noticing the other was following me. I thought at first that he was trying to give me back something that I had dropped, but when I rounded the corner to go into the classroom, he literally followed me and sat down right behind me.
Shit! I thought, remembering that the goth had the same first period as me. I had forgotten for the other was hardly in class anyway.
As I sat down, the bell rang for class to start, but my mind was floating in thoughts about my own self. Why was I freaking out so much about Kyle and Stan? Later, I concluded that I was homophobic and just hated Stan or something like that, but I knew that both of those statements were lies.
"Okay class", my teacher stated, and I happened to tune her in at that excact moment. "Now we're moving on to the concept of homosexuality."
Breath caught in my throat, hands began to sweat, and eyes darted behind me to Georgie, who was now stabbing something into his desk. I raised my hand, and the teacher took notice, calling on me.
"Ike Broflovski?" She smiled, and my paranoid mind knew that she knew I was thinking about undressing Georgie. . .Wait. . .WHAT!
"May I- uh- please go to the- uh- bathroom?" I stammered, happy that I had managed to get that all out before fainting and dieing on the classroom floor.
The teacher smiled, nodded, and went behind her desk to write me a note. And as a serene kind of thanking presence washed over me, I heard Georgie behind me.
"Can I go too?" He asked and I froze as I was taking the note from my teacher. "My bladder's gonna explode again and nobody wants to see that." He nonchalantly, stabbed his desk again, and the teacher rolled her eyes, writing another note.
I ran out the door, not wanting to have the goth follow me to the closest restroom, but part of me believed he only wanted to get out of class because he needed to smoke or something like that.
"Ike?" A drawling voice filled with apathy inquired behind my turned back. The hairs on my neck stood on end, trying to pull themselves free from the goth's radioactive lasor eyes.
I turned, and my mind exploded with possibilities and fantasies almost instantaneously.
I could already feel the goth's lips against my own, his hands tugging at the pants I had chosen to wear today. His hair tickled my face, and I had snaked my arms around his neck. My tongue slithered into the goth's mouth, and I could feel both his tongue ring and the backs of his snake bites. His hands, on the other part of my body, freed my belt and smoothed the skin around my waist, nails following an invisible line to and fro from my anterior to posterior parts of my waist.
"Ike?" The goth asked again, and I noticed, finally, that he was talking to me.
My mouth fell open as I realized just how close he was. I could leap on him if I really wished to, and he probably wouldn't react until my teeth were engraved into his neck, and my nails had left permanent scars across his back from the amazing sex the goth had in store.
I shook my head, trying to free my mind of its dirty cobwebs. "Gotta go!" I shouted, running toward the nearest bathroom, and not looking behind me until I had locked myself into a bathroom stall.
"What the fuck is wrong with me?" I asked, leaning my head against the stall. "I blame Stan. . ."