Alrighty, first SP fic for me. Now I'll have you know, It was about 3:30 A.M where I am, namely England, when I started writing this. Blame me if this turns out crappy, but heck, it's 3:30 A.M.
In Episode 4.07 (Cherokee Hair Tampons), what if things had turned grave? What if a certain boy lost someone who was dear to him? And what if his death had been the fault of a single, selfish soul?
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Time was always ticking away.
Time was ruthless; always carrying on, never stopping for anyone or anything, as that was what time was destined to do: keep on ticking. And, alas, time never gave him a second chance...
Time can be cruel, indeed.
11:55 p.m.
A young boy in a red poof-ball hat stood, alone, save for the fading boy he was watching over. He never wanted this to happen. He had pleaded with anyone, everyone who he could turn to. His parents, his friends, even the well-knowing doctors, but all either said he was too late to help him, or they just stayed silent and walked away.
"It wouldn't have been that way if a certain someone had just given him the aid that he needed...and, lo and behold, it was that someone's doing that led to this..."
Tossing that subconscious thought aside, the young boy looked down, down at the form lying under the thin sheets, and into his half-closed, pale, fading eyes.He spoke, his voice a shaky whisper. "K...Kyle?" The motionless form didn't respond. The boy called out again. "Kyle?" This time, the bed-ridden boy lifted his head up, weakly, and met eye contact with him. His voice was almost inaudible. "Stan...?" The other boy smiled, weakly, and nodded. "W...Why are you here?" Stan managed a dry laugh. "What does it look like?" Kyle smirked, faintly, back. A brief pause settled in, which was broken when Stan spoke again. "Kyle...it's...it's gonna be fine, isn't it? You're going to be okay, right?" Another pause. Tears started to fill Stan's eyes. "Right?" Kyle managed to rasp out, between coughs, "The doctors...they..." A cough. "...They said...that I would only have a hope if it was in by yesterday...to put it simply, it was too late..." Stan froze, speechless. Kyle looked down. "I'm sorry, Stan...but it's my time." Stan shook his head in disbelief. "N..no...no, please, God, no!" He placed a hand on his shoulder. "We...we're best friends! We have so much to live for!" He buried his face in Kyle's shoulder, sobbing heavily. "You can't die, Kyle, you can't! Not now! Not yet!" Kyle managed a weak smile, and Stan, still weeping openly, looked up at him, shocked by how pale his once-angelic face was, how ultimately frail he was, yet he could do nothing to aid him. "It's...not your fault, Stan..." Stan, again, shook his head. "W...what are you saying?" Kyle coughed again, his voice sounding fainter. "Don't blame yourself for things you didn't do..." Stan put his head in his hands, muttering, "No, no...you can't go, Kyle..." He was interrupted by Kyle. "Blame the one who robbed me of my life..." A dreadful silence passed over, the cold, quiet beeping of the heart monitor lessening in pace. Kyle turned his head to face Stan one last time. "Stan...I..." He managed a final smile. "I'm sorry..."
The flatline took its toll on Stan, the single, never-ending beep filling the room. Stan buried his head in Kyle's shoulder, weeping openly and embracing him. He spoke, his voice interrupted by heaving sobs. "No...no, no..." He inhaled, shakily, "K...Kyle...wake up Kyle! Dammit,wake up! Kyle!" In sorrow, he threw his head back and screamed, as if he wanted God to hear him. "KYLE!"
After the echoes had died down, not a sound was left save the cruel flatline tone of the monitor, and the sobs of the boy who had taken a loving vigil over his friend. And was still doing so.
Many were present at the little boy's funeral, at least above half the town. Shiela and Gerald were literally struggling to hold their emotions in. Others shed brief tears, still others wept lightly and regained their composure. But, alas, Stan felt the most pain. He didn't want to believe that this was happening, and he was so grief-stricken that when he saw the small coffin being lowered into its plot, he ran from the scene in tears, the others there looking on in surprise.
It also happened that day that he ran into the one person that robbed Kyle of his life. "Hey, Stan, w-" The moment that someone tried to talk to him, Stan promptly connected his right fist with his face, breaking his nose in the process. "What the fuck were you thinking, Cartman!" The fat, red clothed boy lying in front of him looked up, dazed and confused, his hands covering his bleeding nose. "Stan, what the fucks wrong with you?" Stan sounded incredulous, his voice filled with sorrow. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me! He's fucking dead, that's what's wrong with me!" Cartman paused, then realised. "W-wait...K...Kyle?" "You didn't want to give him a chance at life, and look what you did now! He's dead thanks to you!" Cartman stammered. "B..but Stan, he-" He was cut off when Stan fisted him in the gut. "Don't fucking lay excuses on me!" "But Sta-" He recieved a last kick to the shin before Stan ran off in tears, not saying a word, leaving Cartman lying weakly in a pool of his own blood.
The next day, Stan, grief still tearing at his heart, travelled to the cemetary, and picked his way through the countless graves until he came to Kyle's. The headstone of the grave was rather small, and made of marble, two wings forged in the shape of an angel's, made from the same material, adorned on either side of it. The epitaph read:
Kyle Broflovski
1995-2003
Sleep well, little child, the Lord holds thee now.
What tore at Stan's emotions the most, however, was a single photo on the front of the headstone- the photo taken just before they left Aspen, whilst riding up in the cable car - both of them smiling, Kyle resting his head on Stan's shoulder. Stan wiped his eyes, and spoke, his voice quivering. "Hey Kyle...how's it going?" He sniffed, and continued. "Everyone's being talking about you, and...they miss you, Kyle...I miss you, too, buddy..." He paused, tears welling up in his eyes. "I know I'm not the best speaker in the world...maybe I can put it best like this..." He cleared his throat, and sung, in a shakey voice:
"I can see the pain living in your eyes,
and I know how hard you try.
You deserve to have much more.
I can feel your heart and I sympathize.
And I'll never criticize all you've ever meant to my life.
I don't want to let you down,
I don't want to lead you on,
I don't want to hold you back
From where you might belong.
You would never ask me why
My heart is so disguised.
I just can't live a lie anymore.
I would rather hurt myself,
Than to ever make you cry
There's nothing left to say but goodbye.
You deserve the chance at the kind of love
I'm not sure I'm worthy of.
Losing you is painful to me.
I don't want to let you down,
I don't want to lead you on,
I don't want to hold you back
From where you might belong.
You would never ask me why
My heart is so disguised.
I just can't live a lie anymore.
I would rather hurt myself,
Than to ever make you cry.
There's nothing left to say but goodbye.
You would never ask me why
My heart is so disguised.
I just can't live a lie anymore.
I would rather hurt myself
Than to ever make you cry.
There's nothing left to try.
Though it's gonna hurt us both,
There's no other way than..t...than..."
Stan, now on the edge of weeping openly, eventually mustered the will to utter the last few words: "T...than to say...goodbye." The last word was a whisper. Stan finally gave in to sorrow and let his tears fall freely, burying his head in his hands.
And he felt alone in the world.
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So, there it is. It's essentially what may have happened if the events of Episode 4.07 were reversed, and the aftermath. R&R if you wish.
(The song used is Goodbye by Air Supply, just to let you know.)