Playin' the Love Game
Chapter 2
By the Unlucky-Charm
Saturday morning, at 7 o'clock, Kenny sat on his living room couch watching Terrence & Phillip, his favourite childhood show.
This morning, it wasn't anyone throwing up that woke him, but he did so on his own. It was the promise of a good breakfast that got him on his feet and ready to go.
He heard a car horn outside his house. He grabbed his bag and ran out, meeting Stan's car, with Kyle riding shotgun. Kenny got into the backseat, next to Cartman.
"Hey Kinny." He greeted him.
"Hey guys. How's your hand, retard?" Kenny asked the driver, jerking his chin out to the bandaged hand grasping the steering wheel. It was wrapped neatly; obviously Kyle's work, much to Stan's enjoyment.
"It's better." The redhead answered for him, frowning down and the white clad hand.
"So where is this place?" Stan asked, starting up the car again.
"Um well, we have to pick up Clyde first; he's at Tweak's coffee shop." Cartman explained. "He knows the way there."
Clyde lived right next to the shop. Him, Token and Craig would usually meet up there to keep Tweek company and of course the free coffee. Kenny and his friends didn't have that special treatment from the twitchy blonde, but it wasn't unexpected.
Token's group was a little different than theirs. Even though they all hung out together, Clyde and Token were considered best friends and Tweek and Craig were a separate pairing. The Token group worked in different ways. It consisted of the dominant ones (Craig and Token) and of the more submissive ones (Tweek and Clyde). They were protective of each other and were actually caring, which meant Kenny had to open his eyes and ears to make sure he could tell the difference between 'bro love' and 'love love'.
Sure, the four seemed really close, but nobody knew how close they actually were. People always wondered why Clyde and Token sat in the hallways together in complete and utter silence, texting each other, but Kenny did. One word:
Fuck-buddies.
That's right, fuck-buddies. They wrote about things that could not be spoken out loud, Kenny was almost certain. All it took was a simple phone call Clyde had made during Token's absence in the boy's bathroom a while ago for him to reveal everything...well almost.
Based on what he could roughly remember, Kenny had written some stuff down in his notebook :
Clyde- What you mean now? Your house is too far away. I can't just walk.
Token spoke.
Clyde- No, don't pick me up.
Token said something that made Clyde blush.
Clyde-You know, we can't do this every time I get rejected by a girl.
Token again.
Clyde- Yeah, it does make me feel better.
Token.
Clyde-Okay, okay fine, after school okay? Your parents better not be home.
Kenny had a couple of ideas of what Token was saying on the other line, but nothing was certain. He wasn't even sure that 'sex' was what they were talking about, but it sure as hell sounded like it.
So that was pairing number 3 in his binder. Not a complicated one, easy to write about, easy to understand...
Craig and Tweek? Now that was a different story.
Token and Clyde were called fuck-buddies for a reason, meaning they never really shared a relationship, per say. When one of them got horny they'd just screw around until satisfied. However, there seemed to be more between Craig and Tweek. It was obvious to Kenny that Craig had not once laid a finger on the caffeine addict, which frankly, was pretty damn cute. Tweek was, of course, clueless of the whole situation and if anyone told him otherwise he would downright have a panic attack. But if Craig was aware, Kenny couldn't tell. That guy kept such a calm air and stoic expression that you couldn't figure out a thing. If he did know, then it was pretty damn impressive how he was maintaining a straight face like that. Long story short, the force ran deeper in pairing number 4.
Stan parked the car in front of the cafe and they all went in. As they were told, Clyde was inside, standing next to Craig who was ordering a coffee from the barista behind the counter. When the huge man in a suit standing in front of them moved, Tweek Tweak could be made out as being the one and only worker in the whole place. It was the perfect environment to be spotting some Craig and Tweek action.
It was normal to see the noirette at the coffee place. If anyone were to be looking for Craig (which never happened) he was either at school, home or the cafe. It was part of his routine. Every morning, the guy couldn't go through the day without his coffee. Then, at 4 o'clock, he had a second one. People thought it comical that Craig had also developed a liking for the beverage just like his best friend...
The thing was.
Craig didn't like coffee.
He wouldn't drink not a single drop.
Yes, that is the truth. The guy hated the stuff. What he did, every time, was hold the cup in his hands for a few minutes and then throw it out. That's how that pairing had originally began; when Kenny noticed that habit of Craig's.
So, naturally, there Craig was, simply holding his coffee and merely raising an eyebrow when he spotted them. Clyde who was standing in front of him, spun around and flashed the group one of his child-like grins.
"Oh! You're here! So, shall we?" He said, swinging his arms toward the entrance door like some kind of valet.
"Might as well, since apparently I'm playing chauffeur today." Stan rolled his eyes as he spoke.
Kyle smacked him on the back of his head and frowned at him.
"It's your punishment for being an idiot while using a knife." He hissed.
The noirette lowered his eyes and rubbed the side of his arm awkwardly. The blonde's eyebrows flew up momentarily and then quickly regained their original placement to avoid anyone noticing his reaction.
So Stan was...what? Kyle's bitch? Sure did look like it.
He smiled in his mind because he couldn't really do so at the present.
Kyle was noticeably smaller than Stan in height and build, but he was still the little spitfire in front of whom Stan would cower.
If Stan was a dog, Kyle would probably whip him going 'Bad Stanley! Bad!' and the other boy would look up to him with a pair of shameful puppy dog eyes. But hey, dog and bitch aren't THAT far apart. So one can only dream...
"Oooh, Stan! And your gonna just take that!" Clyde mocked, hurting the guy's pride all the more.
"He made some very valid points." Stan mumbled under his breath, his eyes still glued to the floor.
"Hey Tucker." Cartman said to Craig who had only just come closer to them.
"Hey."
"Having some coffee are we?" Kenny cut in with one of his double meaning/test questions.
"Yep."
"Just like every morning hm?"
"Can't go a day without."
The coffee in his hands being brought up, Craig had no other choice than to take a fake sip from the cup, while glancing back to the counter.
'Can't go without what Craig?' Kenny thought to himself. 'The coffee or Tweek? 'Cause you don't seem to be enjoying the coffee as much'
Speaking those words out loud would have been suicide. With Stan, he could get away with it; with Craig, he'd have to get away before being punched in the face. The thought made him uneasy, so he continued with his 'interrogations'.
"Hey Tweek!" Kenny yelled over Craig's wide shoulder.
The blonde squealed and then waved back.
"So Craig," He addressed the noirette once more. "Will you be joining us?"
His attention still being dedicated to Tweek, the stoic teen started when his name was spoken.
"Huh? Oh, nah, Tweek needs tutoring today. Biology makes him paranoid."
'Then good luck having sex with him, bro' Kenny thought.
Craig didn't bitch or complain about being deprived of breakfast with them and he could have even been the one to suggest the study session to Tweek. Or maybe Tweek wasn't even aware yet...
So Craig was like some sort of father figure to Tweek. The paranoid boy looked up to his friend like someone who was older and wiser. He trusted his judgement and followed whatever he did, knowing it would be the right thing. And Craig saw Tweek as someone he had to take under his wing and protect, you know, except when he was undressing him with his eyes which wasn't very 'fatherly' of him.
"Why don't you just bring Tweek with you?" Kyle asked.
"Well he doesn't really eat breakfast. It's mostly just coffee and oatmeal when I tell him to. Kid barely ever eats anything; I gotta remind him sometimes."
'Wow' Kenny thought and then mentally thanked Kyle for having asked the question. He knew that, first thing he was doing at the restaurant was take the notes before he forgot them. This was all important stuff and as much as he hated to say; the food could wait.
The car ride took them into some of the bigger towns near Denver. Stan drove through a couple of blocks, where the houses were as big as Cartman's ass. They were most probably in the rich part of the unnamed town, but no surprise there since the restaurant was supposed to be really high class.
"Is that it?" Kyle asked, pointing at this old looking building.
It was a small establishment, looking very classy with these vine-like plants growing over it's walls. The place didn't even have a proper name, the sign just said 'Restaurant'. So far, none of them were impressed with the place, there was nothing really extravagant about it.
When they entered, they knew they had spoken too soon. The room was vast and spacious. Waiters were graciously gliding between tables, swinging plates and cups over the heads of customers. In the corner, was a violinist playing and everyone, absolutely everybody, was dressed like they were going to a wedding. Hell, even for a wedding they wouldn't be dressed that fancy. None of them would ever have that will power to wake up and clean up that well for breakfast.
Standing near a large table, accompanied by a man who seemed to be the owner of the restaurant, Token waved them over. The table was already set, holding the exact number of chairs and silverware needed, disposed uniformly in front of them.
"Hey guys, this is Henry, the owner."
The man smiled and shook each of their hands. Unlike the waiters, he was dressed in a suit and tie, differentiating him from the rest of the staff. Token and him had obviously been acquainted before by how comfortably they spoke to each other. They spoke in a friendly matter about business and things rich people would spend their time doing. The dark skinned boy looked like an adult, much older than what his boyish features gave away.
With a final thank you and a nod, the man was off into the kitchen.
"Well guys, have a seat."
They all sat down awkwardly, feeling more out of place than ever in their hats and hoods and jeans.
"Dude what the hell was that?" Stan told Token with an impressed smile. "Should we call you Sir? Or Mr. Black? I mean, are you sure were not ruining your image or anything?"
Token chuckled and arrogantly glanced around the rest of the restaurant. The people there seemed more intimidated by him than the other way around. Even next to other rich people, Token's aura and wealth was still out of the ordinary.
"These people aren't all that rich. They just wear the best clothes they have and dine here, blowing off their monthly pay checks just to look good. They're all just posers. I can tell." He took a sip from his coffee. " I would never take you guys somewhere with REAL rich people, you wouldn't enjoy yourselves."
It was nice of him to take his friends into consideration and his words calmed some nerves around the table. Kenny was relieved because the one thing he was fearing was table manners. Of course he knew how to use a damn fork, but when there were at least four different ones in front of him, guessing was his last resort.
Luckily, it was a buffet and he didn't have to try and understand any complicated menus in Italian or French. He had always hated when restaurants did that. They WERE living in America, so why write the whole damn menu in another language?
Kenny took some of everything that they were serving, even though he didn't know what half of them were. It all just smelled really nice and it wasn't like his friends weren't filling their plates any less than he was.
"Hey guys, way to be subtle about it." Token commented when everyone was seated.
Compared to the people next to us, we were acting like cavemen. On one side, Stan was dipping his bread directly into his mini tub of butter and Cartman was popping diced potatoes into his mouth like they were fries. Kyle was the only thing that came close to 'polite' and Stan must have noticed that too since he suddenly picked up a knife and blushed slightly.
The food was AMAZING. Each bite was savoured and chewed on slowly to preserve the taste as long as possible. Nobody spoke because they were so caught up in the heavenly taste of their food.
"Token..." Cartman moaned. "This food is incredible."
"Dude, quiet down, sounds like your fucking me or something." He hissed.
'Yeah, you'd know what that sounds like.' Kenny thought.
Breakfast went on with nothing notebook worthy, much to Kenny's disappointment. They talked, laughed and made fun of Clyde who, yet again, got rejected by some girl.
"She didn't reject me, she just said she already has a boyfriend!" He whined.
"Dude, Bebe Stevens is single as far as I know, so you totally got rejected." Token told him and settled the matter.
A few minutes later, when everyone had finished eating, the waiters came and picked up our empty plates, except for Kyle's, which was sill half full for some reason.
"Hey Ky, didn't like the food or something?" Token asked.
"Nah, was good, I just feel a little weird."
"It's your little sensitive Jew stomach Kahl."
"Fuck you Cartman, at least my stomach isn't bulging out of my pants at the moment."
Heh, Jew burn.
They all left the restaurant after Token having paid for the whole thing. Outside, a valet was waiting for him with his Mercedes. Why had he hired a valet? Nobody knew.
"Clyde you're with me? Anyone else wanna come?"
The boy leaned against his gorgeous car and twirled the keys on his finger. With his designer sunglasses on and his flashy white smile to top it all off, he looked like your typical rich kid and made a few heads turn, some of them belonging to some very pretty girls across the lot.
"I'll come. There's no room in Stan's tiny crap car anyways." Cartman said.
"That's because you take up all the space fatso."
"Shut up Jew!"
Kyle rolled his eyes and headed for Stan's car. He opened the back door and disappeared inside. Kenny found it odd that he didn't want to sit shotgun, but brushed it off.
The car ride home was silent. Stan and Kenny tried having some conversations but they ended short and Kyle didn't even participate. They were headed for Stan's house because it was only 11 o'clock in the morning and they didn't feel like going to Token's. They wanted to relax and unwind. For that, Stan's house was the best because there was never anyone home.
Halfway in their ride home, Kenny glanced back at Kyle. The redhead had his head leaning against the window and his eyes were closed. The blonde nudged their driver with his elbow and once he had his attention, jerked his head back. Stan looked up into the back view mirror and shrugged.
"Hey Ky? You okay?" He asked.
"Yeah."
The rest of the way, Stan tried again a few more times, this time adding "you know you can tell us" or "sorry you just seem weird", but his answer was still 'yeah, I'm fine'.
They got to Stan's and the silence stretched on. The noirette hooked up his Xbox and began setting up a game. Kenny saw him open his mouth to say something but closed it again. Kyle had gone from silent to down right depressed. He had a worried look on his face. Once of those looks he had when they had an exam the next day and he hadn't started studying yet (he aced the damn thing anyway), but this time it looked a little more serious.
Stan opened his mouth again, but the redhead's phone rang.
"Hello?"
...
"Oh hey..."
...
"Like right now?"
...
"Um wait a second."
He put his hand on the receiver and turned to his friends.
"Um, guys, I'm going to take this upstairs, I'll be right back."
Without any of them answering, he ran up the stairs and the sound of the bathroom door shutting echoed in the empty house.
"What's up with him?" Kenny asked.
"I don't know, I'm worried."
'Of course you are, you love him' He wanted to say.
"Of course you are, you're his best friend." Kenny actually said.
"Hey Ken...you think he's hiding something?"
"Of course he is retard! What should we do?"
"I don't know man," Stan said looking hesitant and biting the side of his thumb. "I don't wanna piss him off, you know? If he doesn't wanna tell us, maybe we should let him be."
"I guess..." Kenny was a little disappointed. He was beginning to get kind of curious and was about to propose they tackle the Jew to get the stuff out of him, but Stan seemed to have the more mature solution, which was odd for him.
"Or we could tickle him and then he'd tell us." Stan added, and destroyed the new found respect Kenny just had had for him.
"Um, that won't be necessary." Kyle appeared on top of the staircase. "I have to tell you guys something."
He came down the stairs and grabbed his coat.
"Going somewhere?" Kenny asked him.
"Yeah." He answered, putting on his coat. "On a date... with my girlfriend apparently."
This would have been a perfect moment for Kenny to examine Stan's face and take notes, but he seemed to be stunned himself.
"Your what now?"
"Girlfriend." He checked his watch and sighed. "Bebe."
If the first revelation was a slap to the face, the second one was a kick to the balls.
Kyle stared at his two friends who weren't moving nor speaking and Stan's breathing might have stopped as well.
"I'll..." He glanced at Stan. "I'll talk to you guys later." He opened the door and left, his gloomy expression gone with him.
After that Kenny timed everything. He needed to make the right moves at the right time.
The door slammed. Kenny counted: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.
He heard Stan sit down on the couch. He started again: One, two, three, four.
There was the ruffling of hair and the rustling of clothing. Skin slid on skin and Kenny knew Stan had buried his face into his palm. One last time: One, two three.
He turned around and went to him. He wasn't sure what to say or how to react. Should he pretend like he's shocked? Or ask him why he looks so sad? Or should he just go ahead and tell him he knew all along.
"You knew didn't you?" He startled Kenny.
"Um, no dude, Kyle didn't tell me anything."
"Not what I'm talking about..."
"Oh. Then I guess I did."
"Ken?"
"Yeah?"
"Could you come here for a sec?"
The blonde hesitated. He wasn't sure how Stan was reacting; if he was angry or just plain sad. Would he beat his face if he took another step closer? But Kenny didn't really care. His friend needed him and he would be there for him, even that resulted in pain.
"S-sure." He said and sat beside him.
Stan removed his hands from his face and the pained look on his face made Kenny WANT to be punched if that meant he would feel better. Stan bit on the side of his lip, trying to stop the water in his eyes from escaping. He didn't look at him though, he didn't seem to be able too. And before he knew it, Kenny was pressed against his chest and wrapped up in his large football player arms. Kenny wanted to hug him back, but was crushed. He could barely move, but that was okay.
"He's gone for good, huh?" Stan's voice had a smile in it, but a sad one at that.
"Well...it's not like their never gonna break up..." And that's all Kenny had. There were no other words of comfort he could think of.
"Yeah, but this just confirms it."
Kenny knew what he meant. "Confirms what?" He said anyways.
"He's straight, Ken."
Kenny regretted making him say those words, since they must have cut through his throat when they came out, at least that's what it sounded like.
Kenny wasn't sure what to do, so just kept mumbling that it was all going to be all right, though he never promised anything. He thought about Kyle's face when he told them and how he didn't seem to be very excited about it nor very happy. In fact, he looked down right pissed. Could he have possibly known Stan's secret and had fled in fear of his best friend's reaction to the revelation? If that was the case, Kenny was ready to punch his giant Jew nose in, but he doubted it all strongly. He didn't say any of this to Stan though, no use giving a broken man false hope, only to see him fall to pieces again.
It was only when Kenny got home that night, that he noticed the dampness of his shirt on his shoulders. The realisation sent another stab through his chest and gave him a reason to do what he knew he was going to do the second he had seen the noirette's crushed expression. He picked up his notebook and ripped out the first section, throwing it into his trash bin.
That pairing, to him, was no longer to be considered a game.