Breathe Me
Chapter Four: When I Close My Eyes I See
By: Jondy Macmillan
A/N: Ummm…so. Next chapter. I have a poll question. Originally this was going to be very along the lines of You Can Never Go Back…very light reading, with a teensy bit of angst. Now I have two different ways this could go. One is very upbeat, the other is also upbeat, but with a couple of…roadblocks. So do you guys want me to include the downer chapters or skip 'em? It's up to you. Tell me in a review! And um, sorry for the short chapter in advance.
Most kids think winter break is just about the coolest thing to hit town since sliced bread.
I never really got how sliced bread is supposed to be cool though, unless you're poor like me, and you really would kill to eat some fucking bread.
Off topic.
Anyway, I personally find winter break equivalent to one of the circles of hell. I haven't read Dante, so I have no blitzing idea which one, but there it is.
You know what I get to do for my winter vacation, while all the other kids are figuring out new and creative ways to kill themselves tobogganing? Yeah, I'm working.
Now, I really appreciate my job at the Stop-N-Pump. I had to basically beg to get it three years ago when the manager was still unsure about hiring a fifteen year old liability. That's what he called me, a liability. I had to explain to him as nicely as possible that I ain't no liability, and that no one in town needed the money more than I did.
Luckily, the place was owned by a nice Sikh man who understood the value of hard work. He decided to try me out. By the time he got driven out of town by a bunch of pitchfork wielding 'concerned citizens', I'd been working there for six months and had a contract. The place changed hands to my new boss, but he had to either pay me some kind of severance or keep me.
I got lucky. He's a cheapskate bastard of a redneck, and didn't actually care that I was still technically a 'liability'.
Just because I appreciate the fact that I get to work doesn't mean I really have to like it, though. Spending my days assisting the morons who come by in their shiny little hybrids doesn't really tickle me pink, if you know what I mean.
So when break finally comes to an end, there isn't a happier teenager around. I may have missed all the parties, and I may have missed the chance to almost nearly break my neck sledding down a hill, but I've got enough money in my pocket to pay for lunch for the next few weeks and I managed to slip mom enough that we might actually have groceries to boot. As a reward, now it's practically the mandate of heaven that I get to spend time with my friends.
Heaven, or the government enforced laws that say I have to attend school.
Whatever. Right now heaven and the government are both distant, make believe places, while school is very, very real. I was never much fond of classes, but I always liked having an excuse to spend time with Kyle, Stan, and even Cartman. This year it's no different. I'm practically skipping to the bus stop today, ready to hear all the latest gossip. I don't know if you know this about boys, but we gossip.
Oh, yeah. We talk more than girls do, sometimes. But don't tell anyone. It would really ruin our reputations.
Stan's the only one standing there, knee deep in snow, when I reach the bus stop. He's shivering, listening to his iPod with his blue-eyed gaze affixed to the slate colored sky. Perfect. Exactly who I wanted to speak to. I lumber over to him, yanking an earbud from his ear.
"Ow! Kenny? What the hell, asshole?"
I grin, "Nice to see you too."
Stan isn't a morning person. Not that I am either. But I enjoy torturing my friends, which means I'm considerably more cheerful than he is.
He softens, but only slightly, "Yeah, yeah. Nice to whatever."
"Ooh, grumpy today, are we?"
"I'm not grumpy," he snaps.
"How was your vacation?"
"It sucked ass."
"Well that doesn't sound fun," I purse my lips theatrically, knowing that I'm just pissing him off more.
"You think, dickhole?"
I think of Kyle's reaction when I asked him about Stan after Red's party. I hate to admit this, but it's been killing me wondering what happened.
I have what some might call insatiable curiosity. Others might just call me nosy.
Others can suck my balls.
I also lack tact.
"So, I heard Wendy and Cartman hooked up. Are they like, datin' now?" I emphasize my natural drawl a teensy bit, just to annoy him more.
The way to get information out of Stan Marsh is to make him really angry. When he's in a rage he finds it impossible to keep his mouth shut, which is exactly what I'm aiming for.
"Where'd you hear that?" he turns a strange look on me, half-piercing, half-nervous.
"Around," I shrug, trying to look completely casual. It's hard to be casual when you're brimming with the desire to know, but I manage, somehow.
"D-did Kyle tell you anything?" Stan asks, his voice coming out choked.
"Kyle?" I run a hand through my hair thoughtfully, acting perfectly neutral, "No, I don't think so. Should he have?"
"Um…n-no. Nothing. Never mind. It doesn't matter."
Innocent as possible, I ask, "Stan? Did something happen?"
"No. Nothing."
"Are you sure?" I'm trying my best to look like a concerned friend. I mean, I am a concerned friend, but Kyle didn't react badly enough for it to be anything to serious. Sure, Stan's wound up, but Stan always gets wound up. The boy has more stress than the CEOs of most major companies.
"Drop it Kenny," he warns.
I frown. This isn't going quite like I'd hoped. Time for Plan B.
"Well, okay. But you know, Kyle did mention something a little strange…"
I trail off hopefully, figuring he'll infer what he needs to. He does.
"He told you?" Stan explodes, "I can't believe he told you. Oh my god, Kenny, it's not at all like you're thinking it is. I just…I was upset, about Wendy, right? I'd been flirting with Red, and she only hooked up with Cartman to piss me off, but either way, Red had got me all wound up, and then I got upset. And I needed to let off some steam, so I figured, I could just duck in the bathroom for like, a second."
The bathroom? What? I listen, attempting to make sense of his babbling.
"So then I'm…well, you know, obviously, and all of a sudden I just…God, this is so embarrassing. I can't believe he told you. Cartman's right. Jews are total backstabbing Judases."
"Stan, slow down," I say, "and tell me what happened."
"Well," he breathes, his cheeks scarlet, "All of a sudden, I was…and then…I saw Kyle's face. In my head, I mean. Usually I think about Wendy, but I was so mad at her, so I started to think about Red, because she's hot, and she was on my mind anyway. But I couldn't really picture her face right, and I like that. So I thought of red hair…"
I'm starting to understand why Stan's so mortified. The picture he's painting is a little more…personal than I'd been bargaining for.
"."
What? I look at him blankly.
"Stan, you have to say it slower."
He looks at me, seething, "I said I screamed Kyle's name just when he barged in the bathroom."
"You…um…oh."
"But you already knew that, right Kenny?"
I stay quiet. Stan's glowering at me.
"Kenny? Kyle did tell you this, didn't he?"
"Um. Not in so many words."
"Kenny!"
"Okay, well how was I supposed to know you think about Kyle when you masturbate? What the hell were you doing masturbating at Red's party anyway?"
Stan reddens even more, "That's how I let off steam."
"You're a sexual deviant, Marsh."
"Kenny! I am not! You can't tell anyone!"
"I won't," I say, although I'm reasonably sure it doesn't sound reassuring. I wouldn't tell though. I'm not that big of a jerk.
Hesitant, Stan asks, "You've never wanked it at a party?"
I grin, "Nope. Never."
"Never?" he gulps.
"Never had the need."
I'm just being mean, I know. Stan's so cute when he's all morally outraged. And who'd have thought that he had a bit of those nasty ol' homosexual urges in him? Here I thought I was the only one who toyed with the idea. Not that I've ever jerked it to a dude. That's just nasty, man.
"Dude. I'm such a prick."
"Pretty much."
"Kyle's never going to forgive me. He came in the bathroom to make me feel better about Wendy…"
"About her being such a skank?" I guess.
"Yeah."
"Don't worry. He'll forgive you. I think he already has," I try to sound comforting, "In fact, here he comes now."
Stan's whirls on his foot so quick that he almost falls into me. There in the distance is our favorite redhead. I wonder if I should tell him that I know his deep dark secret now?
Maybe I'll just see what kind of mood he's in first.
A/N: Hmmm…yes, I got to the style bits before the k squared. But this will end in Kyle x Kenny. So there. It's just going to take a while.
