Best Friends Forever
Chapter Four: Every Winter it Snows
Author's Note: Oh, my goodness, I'm so sorry for the lack of an update guys! This chapter took way too long for me to release to you. You see, I'm just loosing interest in South Park, and so the story has becoming less and less interesting to write… But with only one chapter remaining, I'm gonna finish it! I think that this may be the only South Park piece I'll write on for a while, so I hope you enjoy this if you like my work. Well, anyway, it's off to bed I go. Enjoy this chapter lovelies and thank you all my wonderful reviews. You are biggest inspiration. – Tokay
P.S: Note the different styles I tried throughout the chapter. And notice the style at the end of the chapter. :)
It hadn't felt right.
Morning came from plain, wispy white curtains: The sun rose from behind pink and orange clouds and reflected across the unadorned walls of Stan's room. He awoke to the melody of the birds outside his window, and sat up in his place to stretch as he always had. It was Saturday and he imagined that Kyle was praying at the local synagogue. Even more, he imagined the look on his face as he did so. A mix of boredom and lethargy. A smile crept on Stan's lips.
But his state of happiness ended when his smile faded because he remembered the sleeping body beside him. The sheets beneath him suddenly felt unclean and all over, he felt dirty. He fell into a brief phase of panic. He scratched up and down his arms until the skin turned red and raw. It didn't feel right.
Stan wanted Kenny out. Fast.
Finally, he scrambled from his place swiftly but with careful accuracy to prevent Kenny from waking. He quickly withdrew a clean pair of clothes from his drawers and tiptoed to the bathroom to change out of the fear that Kenny would stir when he was party-clothed. When Stan returned, he found Kenny yawning loudly with his legs swung to the side of the bed and his feet on the floor. He looked up and his glance pierced right into Stan.
An enormous grin spread across his face. "Good morning!"
Stan just nodded in reply and his insides curdled. "Kenny… You gotta go!" He blurted rudely.
"Okay! Dude, what's your problem, suddenly?" Kenny grinned slightly, only because he became uncomfortably nervous. "You were okay with it last night."
"Awww… man. What the f…" Stan couldn't take it anymore. He realized right then and there that Kenny's innocent act was only a lie. The boy was only as horrible as they claimed he was. He couldn't deal with this newly-found information right now. "Just get the fuck out!"
Kenny darted down the stairwell and sped even faster when he heard Stan's footsteps behind him. He forcefully backed the blond towards the door and pinned him in place.
"Wait—Can't we talk? You said that we could talk when I was ready!"
"Not now, Kenny!" And then he threw Kenny out, onto the pure layer of white snow. Into the cold, and out of his mind.
Stan then found himself face-to-face with his mother.
"Stan, I didn't know that you were having a sleepover last night," she said.
"Yeah, but everyone pretty much just left a while ago…" Stan managed in response, trying his best to disguise the angry that lie inside him.
They were at Stark's Pond, again.
Kyle and Stan lay across from each other at the center of the pond. With the top of their skulls touching lightly against one another, they had an amazing view of the clouds gathering over their heads. The grey and white blended together like a blot of watercolors, and soon the sun was engulfed the bleakness of the sky. Light couldn't penetrate past the thick condensed ice crystals.
It was some kind of reminiscence of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind", their form that was. They silently agreed on that. Frozen on the surface, they felt only the warmth of their own beating hearts thumping in simultaneous rhythm.
What once would have made Stan's heart flutter and his mind draw a blank, now gave no reaction. Stan felt nothing. He found out that what he had once thought would have been pleasant, really felt unclean and was only as vulgar as it was made out to be.
Kyle didn't understand this at first. He crawled back to Stan, desiring to complete their unresolved beginning of a relationship. But when Stan withdrew from the redhead, he felt rejected and whimpered. "Stan…" He moaned.
"I.." he began, shaking his head, confused. "I don't want… it…" His shoulders trembled and felt the cold as it swept across his bare face. Rosy cheeks became the color on his face. But still—he felt nothing.
Kyle whimpered again and recoiled. He thought for a moment and then tried again. From behind, he reached out and grabbed Stan by the shoulder in an attempt to pull him close and hug him. He froze however, we he felt the raven-haired boy grow stiff.
A strange sensation coursed through Stan's bloodstream. The touch felt familiar, had it happened just days before? Then it struck him.
"Screw you guys, I'm going home!"
Cartman.
It had happened to Cartman just days before.
But then it got worse. Kenny. The blond who hid behind his orange parka and was bestowed with poverty. The one who was always there, but somewhere in the background. Almost forgotten.
Stan tried to piece the unusual, striking feeling as it took his mind. He came to the conclusion that Kenny had tried to seduce Cartman—but in a much more flamboyant endeavor and Kyle and him never knew how he was struggling against his friend.
He groaned as the vision and feeling became more and more and it trailed to his stomach where he felt a piercing pain. "Back off, Kyle," he managed.
He backed away just as Stan requested. "Oh, Christ, Stan! I'm sorry! Are you fucking okay?"
Stan's throat went dry and he suddenly started to cough, which lead to the choking of his salvia. Kyle panicked, but he knew not of what he should do. He could only watch as his best friend fell on his fours, and coughed till it hurt.
Then it stopped. Just randomly, with no warning or notice. Why? Why did it happen? It didn't make any bit of sense.
"I don't get it…" Stan said as he pulled himself together and brought himself back to his toes.
Kyle, terrified, ran to Stan with open arms. He embraced him for just a few seconds and Stan didn't resist, so he felt alright with continuing. "What the hell was that? Are you okay??" He then tilted his head and leaned in for the kill. His lips, soft and moisturized, met the chilled skin of Stan's neck, but he was broken off once again by a familiar voice.
"You guys truly are fags, huh?"
It was Cartman, and with the sound of his voice, the two straightened up and broke apart.
"Why do I always find you guys lockin' lips?" He spat, disgusted. "Where IS Kenny?"
"What?" Kyle asked.
What was this? Had this not been just a few days ago, before the mess, before the problems?
Life was funny like that. How life could just be one gigantic replay of the one awful mistake you made. And somewhere at the end, it came up again, you get to chose whether to make that same mistake or change it if you ever learned something throughout life. Sometimes, you even made it worse.
"Where is that little…" Cartman then began to shake. He was pained by the thought of him. "…that little…BASTARD!!!" He then burst out so loud that Kyle and Stan expected him to break down into tears.
But then, he must've cried up every last tear, for nothing came at the moment except for the twitch at his eye. It burned with frustration and betrayal, but there was nothing left to show.
"This is pretty fucked up," Kyle bluntly stated.
And wasn't he right?
The three of them stood there at Stark's Pond, frozen in time for their hearts were broken by their mostly harmless friend—Kenny. They forgot everything.
What were they gonna do?
What were they gonna do?
What were they gonna do?
What were they gonna do?
What were they gonna do?
Stan broke the eerie silence with a statement so out of place, that it was haunting. His words became hallow and all eyes fell upon him. "You know when you said that you heard that Kenny was using Butters? Well, that's not true, because when he came over to my house last night, he told me directly that he didn't."
They stared at him, their mouths agape.
Kyle spoke up first, "What?!" he said. "Why was... KENNY... at your HOUSE last night, STAN?"
It was only then that Stan realized his slip-up. "Wait guys! Let me explain. See…" He asked miserably.
"What's there to tell, Stan? I bet he was in your room, too!" Kyle interjected.
In my bed, Stan had shamefully thought. With me.
Cartman, on the other hand, just shook his head in disbelief. He had not been the only one to fall to the blond's spell. And as horrible as it was, he almost felt jealous that he chose his other friends, too, and not just him.
He searched for the words, buried beneath his thoughts. "I… Don't think that I can hang out with you guys anymore…You're all FAGS…!"
And before he even left, they lost him. He swore that he'd never return—or at least not for a long, long time.
He didn't lie either. He never came back.
I don't get it,
You just up and go.
You didn't get it,
So now you're leaving.
What's there to know?
You didn't miss the beat.
You were there right on time.
But you said that's not enough.
So then, go ahead and go
It's still your invalid crime.
Please, please promise me this:
Our friendship's worth more then some kiss.
You said you'll go,
But did you know that every winter it snows?
We just hope that it'll be us that you miss.
Where do you stand? Where do you lie? Is there a roof over your head? Or are you just begging to die?
Kyle left Stan shortly after Cartman's departure from the group. He swore that he would however return, after the problem was solved, and his mind was clear. For now, however, he frowned down upon Stan. His emerald eyes became narrowed, his scarlet eyebrows sunk, and his lips formed into a pout.
"Aren't you going to say something? Beg me to stay? Anything?" Kyle asked angrily.
Stan's expression softened at Kyle's words. He clearly didn't want to leave Stan right now, let alone be gone forever, and the thought of it gave the older boy hope.
He stopped his musing and sighed heavily. "No."
"Fine," Kyle said as he turned away from Stan. "Whatever. Bye! Hope you and Kenny get together. I'm sure that that's what you want."
Then he was gone.
Stan turned to sky once more. As the grey clouds pushed through the sky, even more clouds, whiter and thicker, replaced them. The weatherman was right, it really would probably snow on Christmas Day—or better—when the clock struck eleven on Christmas Eve. During the night, the town would be powered in the weightless, frozen substance. And it would bright with it crystallized icicles and little snow angels made from the innocent children themselves.
For now however, there was nothing for Stan to do but sit and wait.
Where to?
Where was he supposed to go now?
Kenny kicked a meager pile of collected snow in frustration. Despite everything he learned from each of mistakes, he seemed to still fall into the same hole. Every time. He was lured into his own selfishness and his power he had with his friends' trust. It was all he could think of doing. Even now, when he felt that his friendships with them were breaking apart.
They were splitting at the ends, like Kyle's untrimmed curls. He was green with envy of them—like the redheads eyes.
He slipped again.
When Kyle appeared before him, though, with his face burning with angry and jealousy, the thought was postponed and his look became that of confusion.
"Kenny. Kenny McCormick," His face tensed and lines scattered over his face. He was obviously displeased with the blond, and wanted him to clearly know that. "You fucking bastard!!!"
Kyle then pounced upon Kenny, and sent him to the ground with all of his force. Falling to the ground on his stomach, Kenny became vulnerable to the redhead's assaults. He straddled himself on top of the older boy's mid-back, unveiled his untidy blond hair from behind his hood, grabbed the locks with one hand, and shoved the boy's head into the thin layer of snow.
The rush of the cold temperature of the snow created a burning commotion upon his flesh, and his face flushed to a shameful shade of pink. With further dunks, he swallowed flakes of snow and coughed up what he could. But the dry taste remained in his mouth among other things. He closed his eyes.
When he finally thought that it could've possibly stopped, he reopened his eyes and Kyle got up to his feet. Kenny had took that as he chance to crawl back to where nature put him, but the moment he stood on all fours, Kyke's foot met his back. The blond fell to the ground with a groan in pain.
"I hope you're happy, you bastard. 'Cause Stan obviously thinks that you're fucking better then me!" Kyle blurted.
"Kyle… Listen… I came over his house to—"
"Save it! I don't want to hear your stupid voice!"
He let Kenny stand before sending him back into the snow, this time on his backside. And he pummeled him with all that he had. The younger truly wasn't as strong as he felt, but the punches and kicks felt all too real. The precious flesh on his face was bruised and scratched and hurt and hurt and hurt.
Kenny never fought back. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he believed that he deserved every punch and bruise. And so, he let Kyle vent his anger. Maybe he would feel better.
Once more, he struggled to stand, but Kyle repeatedly pinned him down. He grabbed the boy's left arm and twisted it around as far as he could. But, with his free arm, Kenny grabbed the redhead's wrist, and prevented him from any more coils.
With Kenny's touch, Kyle's frustration turned to desperation. As his eyes watered up, he gave his final fight, pulverizing the defenseless boy beneath him. His punches and kicks became weak, and his structure failed. He fell to his knees beside Kenny, with sadness streaming down his pink freckled cheeks.
His hands in loose fists, he pounded the blonde's back lightly, and cried; "I hate you, Kenny McCormick."
Life remained as the repeat of things of the past. Kenny sat on the street curb once more, hood up, he stared down at whatever was behind him. Old, chewed up blue gum, cigarette butts, scraps of paper. It was nothing he wanted to see. Ashamed of bruises but also displayed them as a sign of his mistakes, he didn't want to see the clouded sky. It would only make him feel worse.
Stan found him and found a place beside him. "Kenny! What happened?"
Kenny looked away from his friend. "Kyle," he mumbled.
"Wait, let me get this straight: Kyle beat you up?"
"Was I supposed to fight back?"
Stan squirmed in his place nervously, so he changed his sitting position.
"I'm sorry I, you know, this morning and all," he said.
"Yeah…"
"This was my fault that you—"
"It was my fault, Stan," Kenny interjected. "I fucked us up."
Stan began to shift again.
"Kenny, why did you do it? What's wrong?!"
He was more concerned than Kenny could have ever thought he would be. Even after he used the raven-haired boy to get what he wanted, he still returned to search for the problem in the younger boy. Kenny couldn't understand why he would do this. But then again, he was the most sensible of the four.
"I… don't know…" He lied.
"Well, if you ever what to, you know, talk, we can always just meet or whatever. Okay?"
"Yeah..." he paused for a moment. "Thanks, Stan."
"I'm sorry, Stan, for everything…"
"I know," he replied to the redhead he sat beside him on the curb where Kenny had in various times come to think. There between them, his body and ruined mind lie at the heart of the emotion that tore the friends apart. And it wasn't pretty or sugar-coated. It was raw and real and unending. Kenny was lost.
Kyle was still full of hope, though. Both Kenny and Stan had admired that. He avoided the situation up until now, not wishing to get involved. If he hadn't have created the vicious conflict between him and Kenny, Stan would have easily declared him the one thing that was right. The one innocent child of the four boys who learned about sex in third grade and cursed for longer than they could remember.
He said, "We can still be friends?"
"'Course."
His buoyant smile was more than adorable, Stan decided.
But then his smile faded. "What's wrong with Kenny?"
"I don't know, we won't tell me."
"Do you think that he's okay?"
"I hope so, dude."
"Yeah."
Beat.
A sigh.
"What happened, Stan? At your house last night?"
"When Kenny came over?"
"Yeah."
"Nothing really," he admitted. "We just talked… and then he wanted to… sleep in my bed… with me…."
"And…?"
"That was it."
"Oh…" he stopped and thought for a second. "And he didn't…"
"NO!"
"Then it was just me then…" Kyle decided grimly.
"No. There's just something wrong with Kenny."