A/N: Sooo... This is my first fanfic in like four, maybe five months. And its my first time writing one for South Park. I dunno. But, yeah. So I wrote this Geometry class yesterday and typed it up today. Sorry if its suckish. I didn't actually go through and make corrections. I may improve it later when I get the chance. But for now, here ya go.
Its so cold... So very cold. Whats wrong with me? Maybe its all a dream, or a nightmare perhaps. It must be. My fingertips, now my fingers, then my toes... My feet and hands; their not cold anymore. I can feel nothing, but yet, everything. I cant seem to think straight, I'm so exhausted.
Maybe I should close my eyes, just for a few minutes. My eyelids slip past my cornea and I'm shrouded in the darkness of my thoughts, not that I ever seem to leave them.
It's so peaceful. I imagine that this is akin to what marijuana does to a being, leaving one so numb and so happy, but so lost... Maybe...yes, I'll take a nap. I feel whatever tension that was leftover leave my body completely and my jaw seemed to unhinge as I was filled with what am going to call death, and all of its iciness. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to care.
Suddenly, I hear something in the distance, it was painfully muffled but I was partially sure that it was a scream. It wasn't until the relatively sharp sound met my ears that I realized the severity of my current situation and began thrashing fruitlessly with my arms and legs. I tried to call out for help, but my lungs were hit with ice cold and soon after I gave up, drifting into oblivion.
I felt my body regain consciousness and I fought with my eyelids for some time before they fluttered open slightly. I saw a blur of black against the bright lights of the room and immediately groaned and squeezed my emerald eyes closed. "S-Stan? If that's you, please just go... I don't want to see you right now," I forced out, my voice cracking a bit. I would be lying if I said I wasn't in pain.
There was an uncomfortable silence cast over the room before a nasally voice answered, somewhat bored, "Marsh told me to tell you that he couldn't make it. He also asked that I give his condolences or some shit. I don't know... But the truth is that he was too big of a pussy to see you hooked up to these damn IV's and either stayed home to mope like a baby, or went to Wendy's to fuck until he forgets all about his troubles that he left at the hospital."
I flinched. Whether from the surprise at not hearing my best friend's voice reply to my pitiful attempt at defiance, or from the blunt curses coming from my classmates mouth as soon as I reentered reality, I'm not sure. I opened my yes completely and took in the sight of a noirette sitting comfortably by my hospital bed, one leg over the other and arms crossed, dark azure eyes never leaving the tiny television screen that was currently showing a rerun of what I assumed was Red Racer.
What the hell was he doing here? I thought our sides weren't on speaking terms or something. I wasn't exactly sure why that was, but Stan had assured me that it was for good reason. I took note of the "What The Firetruck" Smosh endorsed shirt he was wearing and the ripped up skinny jeans that looked to be maybe a size too small, as they were squeezing his waist and legs (not in unattractive way, though, I had to admit). And realized that Craig was wearing my clothes. I scrunched my nose and narrowed my eyes.
It wasn't so much that I was upset than it was that I was confused. "Craig...," I started. He flashed his eyes in my direction for a second acknowledging me before returning them to the screen. I frowned a bit, wondering if that was my cue to go on. I sighed. "Dude, what are you doing here?"
"What? Am I not allowed to visit my classmate when hes in the hospital?" He snapped. I averted my gaze to the IV in my wrist, then remembering my fear of needles, decided that wasn't best idea and looked up at the oh so captivating television instead.
"Yeah, but I thought our 'groups' were in the middle of some war or whatever. Speaking of, where is everyone?" I asked.
"...Their not in a war. And it doesn't necessarily involve everyone. Just me, Stan, and yourself. But my friends can never turn down a fight, physically or verbally, so... Yeah. And if by 'everyone', you mean that McCormick kid and fatass, they went to get something to eat." He replied, not missing a beat. I stared at him for a moment, trying to take in what he had said. Stan, Craig, and I were in a feud? Why was I involved? What the hell did I ever do to Craig? Wait... If I did something to upset him, then why was he here right now? Before I could voice my thoughts, he spoke again. "What did he do?" He asked, focusing his full attention on me.
"What?" I asked dumbly.
"Don't act stupid, Broflovski. What did Stan do? I know he had to have done something to make you flip and attempt suicide," he replied, his gaze hard and never wavering.
"Wha-? I-I... What makes you think I attempted suicide? And why do assume Stan has something to with it?" I retorted, slowly losing my cool. Who did Craig think he was? Making fucking assumptions like that, as true as they were. Oh, yeah. He's Craig Tucker. He doesn't need a reason.
He just continued staring at me like before. He knew. And he wasn't going to let this go so easily.
I let out a sigh as I tried slipping further under the unfamiliar-like covers. "He... He didn't necessarily do anything. I just... Well, he's always ditching me for Wendy, ya know? Saying it cant be helped, and that its just a cover up. He keeps saying that it means nothing, but I know it means a lot more than he lets on..." Then it hit me what I had said without thinking. "AH! I didn't mean that! Shes not a cover-up, I mean... Stan, he's not gay!" My face flushed whenever I saw Craig lean back and snicker.
"Calm down, Kyle. You think I didn't already know that? I know Stanley's little secret. Maybe nobody else has noticed, but hell, its been obvious to me ever since we were in like middle school." He replied calmly. Then he chanced a glance in my direction and, noticing my blush, snorted. "Don't worry. I wont tell anyone."
At that, I let out a sigh of relief and smiled. "Thanks, Craig." He smirked in response. "By the way..." I started. "Why exactly are you wearing my clothes...?"
A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review :)
