Brace Yourself
Chapter Four: Strip Me Bare, Don't Let Me Breathe
By: Jondy Macmillan
A/N: Ugh. So annoying. This is yet another chapter of something that was lost with my external hard drive. Oh well. Now it is new and improved. Also, you'll have to forgive me. I named the red goth Derek because…well, for no particular reason other than I know several goth kids named Derek. I really hate having to name characters though, because it makes me feel like they're automatically ooc then. But it had to be done, so…Thank you guys for all your reviews so far, and keep 'em coming!
I've spent the past three weeks waiting for Kyle to show up at Coffee Blue. I'm beginning to think my super best friend powers died along with our friendship. I always used to be able to read Kyle, and I was positive that he would show. Now I've been proven horribly, catastrophically wrong, and I'm not quite sure how to feel about it.
This is the third Saturday in a row that's found me at my favorite corner table, near the blue wall covered in illegible black scrawl. I think its song lyrics, but whatever. I find the hypnotizing ink swirls comforting, so I always try to choose this table if I can. Clyde and Craig skipped out on me tonight. They decided that the lame welcome back to school dance was more enticing than spending another night with my moping.
I hate thinking that they're right.
Maybe I am the loser that Kyle thinks I am. Maybe the name Raven fits me.
Up on the tiny makeshift stage that the coffee house set up, there's a guy with an acoustic guitar playing some alternative cover. In another hour, there will probably be five or six other aspiring musicians joining him, some with guitars, some with electronic keyboards, and some with tiny, tribal looking balsa wood drums. The walls will shake from the music they make, and I'll still be alone. Probably. Most likely. Ugh.
Maybe I should just leave, and go to the dance. No. That's where Kyle is, I'd bet. He's dating Bebe. It figures that she'd drag him to the dorky school dance. Why are they even having a back to school dance now? School's been going on for like, three and a half weeks.
A familiar looking boy with shaggy hair slides into the chair across from me. I open my mouth, ready to say something about it being taken. Then I realize who this kid is. His dark hair is tipped with crimson red, and I watch, quiet as he brushes it anxiously out of his eyes.
"Derek," I mutter, "What the hell do you want?"
"That's not really a greeting, Raven," he tells me in that raspy voice of his.
A couple of the girls that still deign to talk to me tell me that Derek's voice is sexy. I tell them it's just the result of choking his esophagus with smoke since he was nine. Apparently that makes me sound 'jealous'. Girls are completely beyond me sometimes.
"It wasn't supposed to be," I reply, making my voice as icy as possible. When Kyle first stopped talking to me, I considered returning to the Goth kids. I say 'returning' because I'd never really befriended them. I didn't actually know them the way I would know a friend. I just…understood them, a little. I guess. Then Butters words from grade school came back to me. Did I really want to be some faggy Goth kid? Hell no. I'd already said screw you guys to that group once before.
Plus I had Craig and Clyde to curse me back to sensibility.
Anyway, I guess the Goths kind of expected me to join up with them too. When I didn't, they formed a resentment of me that I've never really understood. Plenty of people reject their dumb clique every single day. What made me different?
Senior year and I still haven't gotten an answer.
I'm wearing this blue-gray shirt in an attempt to look brighter for Kyle, but I paired it with this black beanie that I've been wearing for so long I'm rarely comfortable without it. Now I pull the thing down so that my bangs fall into my eyes. Anything to avoid looking directly at Derek. He might turn me to stone or something.
"Look, Raven," Derek tries again, his dark eyes glaring at me. He emphasizes my name, mostly because he knows I hate it, "Henrietta's been trying to talk to you forever. You keep avoiding her."
"Henrietta's a cunt," I say, hoping the bad word will shock him into leaving. Sadly, it's a no go. Derek doesn't even blink. He just flips his hair out of his eyes again; which might I mention is a really obnoxious habit.
"She wants to tell you something important-"
"Then why didn't she stalk me herself?" I narrow my eyes, "I guess having minions is giving the fat bitch a power trip."
Derek opens his mouth to hiss something more, but before he can a voice cuts in, "Stan?"
I'm on my feet in seconds, jumping away from the table in a desperate attempt to disassociate myself with Derek.
"Kyle!" I squeak out, my voice catching.
"Hi," he says shyly, glancing curiously at the Goth, but then dismissing him. Behind me I can almost feel Derek roll his eyes.
"Um, hi. Wow, you showed up."
"You didn't think I would," he observes, his green gaze attached to my face. Normally it makes me really uncomfortable when people stare at me, unwavering. But with Kyle…it feels nice.
"No," I admit, "I didn't."
His eyes wander from me to the walls, and then to the musician on stage. Now it's a boy twanging out some countrified indie song. Kyle smiles weakly, "This place is pretty awesome. It's different- er- different than I thought it would be."
I know what he thought. He thought that there would be midnight poetry readings and drinks that looked like blood or something. I'm too nice to say so, and the tension between us hangs.
"Do you want to order a coffee?" I suggest, grabbing hold of something tangible, an action that we can do together.
"I'm not a big coffee drinker," he admits, and my heart plummets. Then he brightens, "But maybe you could suggest something good? I like lattes. Didn't Craig say they have lattes?"
I nod vigorously, "They have great lattes."
He smiles, and I return it. If Derek snorts behind me, I don't hear it. He could be gone for all I care. Kyle's here, in my space. There's no one else. No Bebe. No Kenny. No fucking Cartman. Just Kyle.
I usher Kyle to the front, where the pretty barista that Clyde likes is smiling and engaging in some conversation about the environment. I wasn't aware that Clyde went for smart girls. Then again, I'm pretty sure his crush on this chick only masks his real feelings, but I'm not going to touch that one with a ten foot pole. I ask the barista for two polar bear lattes.
"What's that?" Kyle asks, nervous.
"A latte with honey and vanilla in it, basically."
He's reading the board behind the counter with interest. There are drinks with names like 'The Graveyard', which is basically an excess of caffeine and sugar, and more normal drinks like Caramel Macchiatos and Frappucinos.
"It's like a hipster version of Harbucks," Kyle tells me, almost excited, like he's uncovered some secret place. Then his smile falls, probably because he realizes I already knew that.
I give him an encouraging smile, "You're right."
More than anything I want this not to be awkward. I want Kyle and me to instantly click again, although I don't suppose that's actually going to happen. But at the very least I want him to know that I miss my best friend. He has to know.
We get our coffee and return to my favorite table. Derek's gone, to my relief. For a couple of minutes Kyle and I just sit and watch the kid on stage strum his guitar. It's peaceful, if not a little awkward.
He turns to me, finally, "You were right. There are a lot of college kids here."
"Yeah. I think it's something for them to do before the bars open…or after they close."
"This place stays open that long?"
"Yep."
Great. I'm so tongue-tied that I can't think of anything else to stay. Why is being around Kyle making me feel this way? I never used to have a problem. Then again, I never used to be so scared that I'd say something that would send him bolting for the door either.
"So…um…how's life, Stan?"
I will never get sick of hearing my name out of his mouth. Ever.
"It's okay. School sucks, but you knew that, because school always sucks," I grin.
"Do you…have a girlfriend?"
"No," I sigh theatrically, "Girls don't seem to like me."
"I wonder why?" he says with no trace of malice. I know why. Cartman told them all I was gay. That hasn't stopped a few from asking me out, but the truth is that I find girls annoying. And untrustworthy. Wendy kind of ruined it for me. If someone with a trace of estrogen approaches me, I'm more likely to run in the opposite direction.
"I was joking," I tell Kyle, "There's been a couple. I'm single right now."
"Oh."
"How about you? You and Bebe have been getting along well for awhile now."
"Uh. Yeah. Bebe," he looks guilty.
"Is something wrong?"
"I was supposed to be at the dance. With Bebe."
I frown, not understanding, "Then why'd you come here?"
"I…I told you I would," he shifts uncomfortably, "I can leave, if you want."
"No!" I almost shout. He glances up sharply, startled, "No. I mean, I invited you here, didn't I? You should stay. Check the place out."
God! Why can't I just tell him that I want to be his friend again?
Maybe because I'm terrified that he'll reject me. I don't think I could take him flat out telling me that there's no chance.
"Okay," he replies, his voice wavering, "So you hang out a lot with Clyde and Craig, right?"
"They're my best friends," I answer. Then my mouth clicks shut, audibly. Shit. I look quickly at him. His face doesn't droop, or show any visible sign that I've upset him. I wonder if I should be happy or sad. I wonder if I wanted him to say, 'But Stan, I'm your best friend'. Ha. Fat chance of that happening.
"That's really good. That you guys are so close, I mean," Kyle takes a slow sip of his drink. His eyebrow ring catches the dim lighting of the coffee house. I like the way it looks against the thin, fine hair arching over his eye, redder than a fire engine. No one else has hair like Kyle, at least not in South Park. I always thought that was cool, back when we were young. He was one of a kind. Unique. I thought maybe it made me special by proxy.
I smile and launch into a complicated story about Clyde and Craig, trying to loosen up the atmosphere. On stage the racket's getting louder; a few more musicians have joined, making a fine fracas. I have to talk louder and louder over the music, but it doesn't matter. Kyle's grinning from ear to ear, his smile so close to the one I've been jealously coveting every time he gives it to Kenny or Cartman that I can't help returning it. He's enjoying my story. All's right with the world.
And then…
My story ends. I finish my latte and say, "You know, I didn't think you'd come."
"You said," he replies, amused.
"Well, I waited here every Saturday for the past few weeks," I retort, still grinning.
His smile falls away, and I don't know why, "You wanted to see me that much?"
"Uh."
Yes. No. Should I have? What's the right answer here?
"Stan."
"Yeah," I sigh, "I don't know. Kyle, yeah, I wanted to see you."
He stares at me, something unreadable in his eyes. I'm tensed. Did I mess up? I feel like I messed up somehow, but I can't figure it out. The music is still loud, but now it's blaring on my nerves. What did I do wrong?
He pushes back his chair and announces, "I have to go."
"Wait- what, Kyle?"
"Bye, Stan."
I watch, frozen, as he walks away from me. Again.
A/N: Agh. Okay. So I wasn't going to update this tonight, but then I realized that this was the only fic I haven't updated in April, and I was going for a trifecta. Except I guess since I have three new fics it's more like a double trifecta. Whatevs. You Can Never Go Back and Breathe Me got updated, so this fic had to also. Anyway, this chapter was supposed to be longer, but I broke it into two bits because A- this was a good place to end and B- it just worked better. Please review! Thanks!
