I awoke to the smell of bacon. Oh my god, yes. My mouth watered at the thought of breakfast, especially sizzling, savory bacon. I sat up abruptly in bed, rubbing my drooping eyes. My stomach growled, pleading for food.
"Okay, okay…" I groaned, not bothering to argue with my stomach. If it wanted food, it wanted food. And I wasn't about to come in the way of that.
I slid out of the twin-size bed in Stan's guest room, slowly blinking. I cracked most of my knuckles, standing up with hesitance. I hated mornings with a passion. More so the process of waking up.
On my way to the door, I examined myself in the mirror. Messy blonde hair. Stained orange hoodie. Bloodshot, cyanide blue eyes.
I shrugged. Same old, same old.
As I proceeded down the hall, the smell and sound of sizzling bacon intensified.I needed it right now. And fast.
I sped down the stairs, tripping over the last one and steadying myself when I hit the floor. I went to the left. The kitchen.
There was Kyle, sliding a skillet across the stove. What was he, a housewife now? The bacon smell was overwhelming. So much deliciousness.
"Kyle?" I called, my mouth watering at both Kyle and the bacon. I couldn't tell which one was more irresistible.
He turned his head to me with a small wave. "Kenny. Hey," he greeted.
"H-hi. You, uhm. Making bacon there?" I blurted, pausing between every word. It was uncanny how nervous I got around this guy recently. I used to be so comfortable around his presence. Now I had the speech efficiency of Jimmy, that kid from elementary school.
"Yeah, I am. You want some?" he asked, lowering the heat on the stovetop.
"Hell yeah," I cheered. No, Kyle, I don't want any of your mouthwatering, delectable bacon, and that's exactly why I came here to stare at you while you made it.
He giggled. Dear god, it should be illegal to be so fucking adorable. "Okay, it'll be a just minute or two."
"N-no problem, man," I grinned, nodding casually. I stood, leaning against the kitchen counter, and gazed at Kyle as he fried strips of bacon. It was heaven. And I had been to heaven. If someone were to ask me what my definition of "heaven" was, it would be this. Kyle Broflovski in the kitchen, cooking bacon for me.
Did I mention he was wearing tight, skinny jeans? And they were tight. Like, it would be impossible to shove a hand down them, because you probably wouldn't be able to slide one in without breaking a seam or something. And that would be a shame.
He looked up from the stove, and raised an eyebrow at me. "Uhm. Kenny?" he called out, rubbing his neck uncomfortably.
I mumbled something inaudible, standing there with a huge fucking grin on my face. Keep cooking, keep…
"Kenny. Dude," he continued, noticeably feeling violated.
Shit.
"Uh. Uhhm. Sorry. I'm sorry. I, uh. I can't really…" I went on, mentally kicking myself with every word. Not just kicking. Beating myself up. I'm such a pervert, man.
He smirked. He could tell, that sly fox.
"W-where's Stan?" I brought up, hoping to divert from the fact that I had been staring at his tight ass for the past five minutes.
He shrugged. "Crashed on the couch, I think. We had a…" Kyle paused, biting his lip. "long night."
And for some reason, I burst into a fit of laughter. It was out of nowhere. And I couldn't stop. I just kept laughing, my sides hurting from laughing so hard. I gripped my mouth, breathing slowly to control myself. Kyle stood there and watched, probably thinking I'd smoked a ton of weed. Or thought I was just being an asshole. Which, I was.
Nice going, Kenny. Nice going.
"Fuck. Dude, I'm sorry. I've been. Not, uhm, myself. Lately," I prattled, stepping away.
"…Yeah," he added, eyebrow raised again. I had to get away from him before I freaked him out any more.
I continued to slow my breaths, turning and making my way to the living room. I needed to talk to someone. Someone who wasn't Kyle. Maybe it wasn't Kyle, maybe it was me. I could've become extremely socially awkward in the past few days.
It was a possibility, at least.
I made it to the living room, and sure enough, there was Stan sprawled across the couch. Poor thing, ramming Kyle's ass must be so tiring.
… I needed to stop with this whole jealousy thing.
I walked to the end of the couch that Stan wasn't lying on top of, avoiding my crushed Monster cans randomly placed around the room. I could hardly remember how they ended up everywhere. I mean, I was stationed in one little area, fixated on video games, yet my energy drink cans were everywhere. Another mystery in the life of Kenny McCormick.
I let out a long, drawn-out sigh, staring at the ceiling and listening to Stan's soft snoring. He didn't really snore, but he wasn't silent either. It was right smack in the middle.
I was pretty sure I snored. I hated people who snore in their sleep. It would be unbearable sleeping next to them.
Which would include me, if I do snore. Awesome.
Stan moaned a little bit, rolling over in his sleep. "Ky… Don't…" he mumbled, clenching his teeth.
How endearing, he was dreaming about Kyle. I can't blame him, I dreamt about Kyle every other night.
What did Kyle even see in Stan? I totally support them and their happiness in every way, but why were they so tight? Don't get me wrong, Stan is a good-looking guy, but personality-wise, I have no clue why Kyle is so head-over-heels for him.
I'll admit, Stan does know how to love someone. I've seen him with Kyle. He's so sincere with everything he does and says to him, and Kyle eats that shit up.
Either way. I just wish I could be more like Stan when it comes to relationships. Because I'm pretty sure I blew all of my possible future chances with Kyle after that little incident in the kitchen. Speaking of the kitchen, where was my bacon? I got back on my feet, and poked my head through the kitchen doorway.
Kyle was piling the strips of bacon onto ceramic plates, dividing the bacon he cooked equally. Finally. My hunger meter was at it's maximum highest, and I felt like I were to explode if I wasn't fed at this second. Like, at this second. I slid into the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible. I wasn't sure if Kyle was mad at me or just disturbed.
I was right behind him, and about to ask him if he wanted help or anything, when…
My stomach growls.
And scares the shit out of him.
"Jesus, Kenny…" he sighs, a hand on his forehead. "Can you stop sneaking around or at least tell me when you're in the room?"
"S-so, you want me to announce whenever I enter?" I chuckled. …And then realized I wasn't as funny as I thought I was.
"Uhm, no, but just don't go all ninja sneak attack on me, okay? If you want bacon, you tell me," he mutters, catching his breath. Poor thing.
"I-I'm sorry. But, um. Yeah," I start, eyeing the plates of bacon. "Bacon?"
"Yeah. Sure," he sighs, handing me a plate.
I take it from him quickly, making sure not to piss him off any further. Why can't I keep my mouth shut? Or, at least, stay out of things?
"T-thanks. Thank you," I mutter, returning to the living room. The bacon is in my hands. And, holy shit, it looks and smells amazing.
I run to the coffee table as fast as I can without breaking something, and set the plate down on the surface. I take a strip off the plate and bite into its crunchy, bacony goodness.
And man, it was worth the wait.
I moan with pleasure and take another bite, inhaling deep and savoring it. Kyle knows how to fry his bacon. He knows.
Kyle comes out of the kitchen with two plates of bacon, and places them both on the table beside me. Stan is missing out on this. Kyle heads to the couch, and kisses Stan lightly on the cheek.
"Stan…" he coos, rubbing his arm.
Stan moans, slowly waking up. "Good morning, beautiful," he grins.
Kyle returns the smile, nuzzling Stan's shoulder. How cute. Everything they did was like some kind of scene from a romance movie. Nuzzle, hug, kiss, blah blah blah. Oh, and you can't forget the constant "I love you"s.
"I love you," Stan coos, pulling Kyle against him. There it was. They needed some more original lines. Or need to stop being so predictable.
I sighed, eating more bacon. At least I still had my darling bacon. It'd never leave me like a human being would.
…Er, until I ate all of it.
Shit. I stared at the two completely full plates of bacon beside me. I mean, they wouldn't notice if I took one. Especially considering the fact that, at the moment, they were locked at the lips again. And me taking one strip of bacon wasn't going to change that.
I speedily took one strip off of a plate, breaking it in half and shoving both pieces in my mouth. That's how it's done.
And I didn't even interrupt their love session.
Of course, I would have to, considering I should stop mooching off of them and scaring the bejeebus out of Kyle. I got out of my chair, and stood in front of them as they continued to make out.
"Yeah, uhm, I'm gonna get going," I announced, and they pulled away, finally noticing my presence.
"Oh. Oh, okay," Stan replies, scooting a bit away from Kyle.
"Thanks for letting me crash here," I smile, waving nonchalantly.
"Anytime, man. Take care," he responds, nodding.
I head towards Stan's front door, feeling like a worthless piece of shit. But, don't I always. I fling it open with anxiety, just wanting to get back home and sleep my life away. I mean, not like death, just taking a huge-ass nap.
I sat in my car for what had to be fifteen minutes. My key was in the ignition, but I hadn't twisted it just yet. I spaced. I just spaced. I stared through the windshield, mindlessly.
I figured it was from lack of sleep. What time was it? The clock in my old, beaten car read 8:35AM. Eh, that was six hours of sleep. That's enough to keep me going.
My god, I just wasn't myself today.