Where No Leaf Blooms Chapter 4: Complex, a south park fanfic

♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

Complex

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦

I had that dream again.

It's more of a nightmare, actually, depending how you look at it. It always starts the same way; I'm in my bed when I hear a noise, and I leave the bed to look for its source. I always glance at Sparky, frowning at his demeanor, not panting and wagging his tail as he always does; but I always ignore him and continue to my door, opening it quietly and slipping through the small opening I've created.

My house's hallway never greets me on the other side. I always enter into a dark, wall-less room, devoid of anything except darkness and sheer silence. I always call into the darkness, I always feel my way through the gloom, blindly, yet I always end up with nothing except with what I've started with. Here my dream changes occasionally; sometimes I call for Kyle, and other times I shout for Wendy's aid. Yet the end result is the same, and each time the transparent floor beneath me gives way, and no matter the beginning I still fall into the same black pit.

I never stop. I keep falling, and I'm always filled with the same hope, a hope that wishes I'll land on something soft, or even just to stop falling altogether. But I don't stop, and even though I know at this point that it's only a dream, I don't wake up.

The first time I had this dream, I couldn't wake up. But now, I only continue the dream because I don't want to wake up, because there's a part of me that longs to see the end of the dream. I want to see what's beyond the voices that whisper quietly to me, the voices that chant my name—but I never do. It seems like days and days where I keep falling and falling, but I never get to the bottom.

Eventually I'm pulled out of that dream, willingly or not, and even though I'm done falling, I remain still in bed, sometimes with my arms spread out, as if I were still falling. Yet there's a time when I do get out of bed, like what I'm doing now, and the part of me that wishes the dream's end… has given up hope again.

I blink; there's something familiar with this scene. The house is quiet, very quiet, and there's no light emerging from my slightly open door. Usually in the evenings I can hear Shelley's blaring music booming through my walls, but there's none of that, either. In fact, it seems like no one in my family is awake, and I doubt they're even here, for that matter.

I raise a hand in my confusion, and in the process I feel the beaded sweat that's formed on my forehead. I always wonder at that; for a dream about falling, I sure sweat a lot, even if I'm barely moving. But perhaps that doesn't really matter whether you sweat or not… maybe you sweat only when you panic, regardless in what way.

But the question about my parents still confuses me; had they said they were leaving? I close my eyes to try and think—no, I don't think they did. I wasn't in the house to hear about it, at least, since I had fallen asleep the second I got back from being with Kyle….

Fallen asleep… what time was it now?

I look rapidly around the room, even though I know exactly where my clock is.

…Midnight.

Fuck.

I missed my date with Wendy.

Panic-stricken, I scavenge my desk for my cell phone, knocking over about half the things on there. I'm almost positive I hear glass breaking—maybe just my imagination—and as I grasp my phone desperately I quickly flip it open.

Seventeen missed phone calls… fuck.

For a split second I consider calling Wendy, but as my finger hovers over her speed dial number, I hesitate to push the button. Apologizing to her might be the best thing to do, yet… it's already midnight. For all I know she could be sleeping already and she'd only be even angrier. Yet at the same time, not apologizing wouldn't be too good, either….

In the end I press a few buttons, and as my fingers begin to rapidly press buttons on the phone I look to Sparky. A part of me expects to see him sleeping, not paying attention to me; but instead I find him wagging his tail as he always does, and this allows me to relax slightly.

When my fingers are done, I turn my head to my phone. I read over it once, checking for errors in the message, and with a sigh I press the send button.

A text message would have to do.

With a groan I collapse back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling as my eyes slide out of focus. God, I don't want to think about what Wendy's gonna to do when she next sees me…. For all I know she's probably going to bitch at me again… or maybe we'll just break up for, what, the twenty-sixth time? Admittedly that would be rather extreme, and I'm only hoping it doesn't go that far….

But now, as I'm staring at the popcorn ceiling, only one thought occurs to me: now what.

And I'm merely facing the same problem as I did last night. There would definitely be no sleeping, as I just did that… but at the same time, there's nothing I can really do without waking up the rest of my family. True, I could probably log onto my instant messaging system or maybe even send an email, for once… but why would I even consider the latter?

Yet I turn on my computer anyway, as I decide to try seeing if anyone's online. It takes a little while; it's not exactly the newest laptop around, but it still serves the purposes I need it for. Plus, it's a notebook computer, and that automatically makes it better than a heavy desktop one.

While I'm waiting, I twirl my cell phone between my fingers—should I call someone? I already know Wendy dislikes losing sleep, and Kenny doesn't even have a phone…. So really, that just left Kyle and a few others. But definitely Kyle.

When my computer's ready I open up my instant messaging system. But before I can even see who's online, two windows magically pop up before my eyes, and I stop to read them carefully.

The first roughly reads something along the lines of:

Sup fag?

While the other reads (accompanied with proper punctuation and capitalization):

Douche.

I'm not surprised with the first message, of course, once I find out that it's Cartman who's sent it to me. However, my eyes linger on Kyle's message, and, with a frown, I reply to him first.

Turd.

I'm not sure if Kyle's really angry at me, or if he's just making a joke. But it doesn't matter at this point, and though I want something to do while waiting for Kyle's reply, I really don't wanna answer Cartman, either….

Kyle's message comes in due time—it's rather long.

Turd sandwich.
Listen, I'm sorry for bringing you to Kenny's house yesterday. You shouldn't have come; you didn't even know about Kenny's hardships. I mean, I didn't either, but I had my suspicions. I was talking to him the night before you showed up at my house, and he was being evasive, which is why I wanted to see if he was okay.
He didn't really call me, of course. But there was no way you would've come unless I had a legit reason. I'm not sure why I wanted you to come with me, which is why I apologized for that. But… I feel bad for him, dude. I want to do something about him, yet at the same time, I don't want to feel like I'm intruding in his business.
Anyway, sorry for being a complete douche earlier. Hope you forgive me.

For a second I'm expecting to see his name signed at the bottom, until I realize that it's merely an instant message, and not an email. Yet I find myself reading it once, and then twice—and though I read it again, I don't really read the whole time; I guess that'd make it two and a half times, then.

My fingers are poised above the keyboard, but I can't think of a way to answer him. Personally, I don't even think it's much of a big deal, but… apparently, to Kyle, it had been. But apparently he did care for Kenny's wellbeing, and that he was trying his best not to get his own opinions bias his claim to forget about Kenny's issue….

There's only one thing I can type, really.

Don't worry about it.

And then another pause. That's the thing with instant messaging—it's not very instant at all. Sure, maybe it is an improvement from email, yet it still takes a considerable amount of time before the reply actually comes…. Yet another reason why having phone calls is so much better.

When Kyle still hasn't replied, I glance toward Sparky, but there's something funny about the way he's sitting. He's sitting in his corner, panting, his tongue hanging out at me as always; but he's got his leg up funnily, standing on his right as he raises his left uncomfortably in the air….

"Shit!" I accidentally say aloud, and I immediately stand up to fetch his leash. Within moments I find it, and I quickly attach it to Sparky's collar as I race to my computer.

Sparky's gotta piss, be right back.

Something else from Cartman is flashing at me from the bottom of the screen, but I ignore it as I lead Sparky out the door. He's quite eager to leave the house, and he scratches at the front door (which goes against the rules we've set for him, of course) as I unlock the front door and let him out.

…at least he didn't pee while he was inside the house.

Sparky's an old dog, though, so most of my family cuts him slack. I try not to, though sometimes I have to, but generally speaking I think that the older the dog the more he should know the rules. Still, as I wait for him to do his business outside (he has to take a dump, too, apparently), I look around.

No one.

South Park is pretty much dead after ten at night—or at least, in this area. Families are all home by eight or so, and anyone who's actually outside at this time usually doesn't come home until past four. All the cars are parked in their respective driveways, though a few households here and there have cars on the street. Almost all the lights are out in the houses, and every other street lamp is broken as a result of our mayor's poor funding habits.

My left leg suddenly feels funny, and for a moment I feel like it is Sparky nudging at my lower leg, telling me he's done. However, within seconds I realize it's actually my phone, the phone I had somehow managed to stuff into my pocket before leaving my room. I pull it out of my pocket, and once I see it's Kyle I answer it rather quickly.

"Sup?"

"Nothing. You've ruined my fucking sleeping schedule, dude. Be happy."

"I am," I tell him cheekily, and I can hear him scowl from his end. "So why'd you call me, Kyle?"

"Because you said Sparky had to piss," Kyle replies quietly. "Besides, I'm stiff bored and I've got nothing to do." He pauses for a moment to heave a sigh, and before I can say something he continues. "…more emphasis on bored, though. I'm sure Kenny could've slipped a joke in there if he heard me…."

"Probably could," I tell him, and we both give a laugh.

"So how was your date with Wendy?" he asks me, and I don't immediately give a response. Of course, there wasn't any way he could've known I had missed my date, unless Wendy called him personally… but I have the strangest feeling the two of them don't get along very well.

"I… I didn't go."

I'm sure if I could see his face he'd be wearing a blank "WTF dude!" expression on his face. "Why the hell not, dude? Are you trying to get her to break up with you or something?"

"No, dude, I didn't mean it like that." I shake my head, watching Sparky as he marks his 'territory'. "I… I kinda slept through it."

"Douche," he spits at me, and I laugh nervously. "So what're you gonna do about it, then?"

"I… I have no idea, Kyle. I mean, I sent her a text message and stuff, because I didn't want to wake her up or anything."

"What'd you say?"

I hesitate for a moment to think of what I had sent her; it hadn't been that long ago, yet it seemed so faint in my mind…. "Sorry for missing our date, can we make it up another day?"

I think Kyle's shaking his head at me right now, but I'm not sure. "Stan…. You didn't even explain to her why you missed your date?"

I blink. "No… do you think she needed to know?"

"Stan, you're hopeless."

"That's why I have you," I say with a laugh. "Oh, Kyle, where would I be without the aid of your intelligence?"

He laughs airily at my sarcasm, but he says nothing. At this point I feel another something against my leg—and I really do think Sparky's nudging at me this time.

I pull lightly on his leash, and with slight eagerness he follows me as I walk through the deserted streets. "Have any plans for tomorrow?" I ask him politely, and he ponders an answer.

"…nothing, I think. Ike's going to summer camp, but other than that I'm not doing anything." I nod my head understandingly, pulling on Sparky's leash before he tries peeing in someone's lawn. "Why you ask?"

I laugh at his improper grammar but say nothing about it. "Nothing, really. Just making sure you're available in case I have a dying urge to hang out with my best friend."

"Flattered," he says simply, yet there's a clear sarcastic undertone in his voice; "but no thanks, Stan. I believe you've got a girlfriend to make up time with?"

I pout, even if he can't see me. "She's gonna crucify me, dude. If anything you should be there with me! Save me from my castration!"

"At this rate, Stan, I'll be sleeping past your crucifixion."

"What?" I exclaim playfully; "you're not coming to my funeral?"

"Of course, not, dude. I'll just ask Ike to videotape it."

I laugh dryly. "I think your brain needs rest. Your humor sucks balls."

"So does your mom," he says, and before I can counterattack he quickly utters his farewells, my insults heard only by the sound of a dead line. I turn to Sparky, who takes my playfully shocked face a little too seriously, and for some random reason he decides to bark at me, as if I'd been abducted by my identical twin….

As I turn the block to Wendy's house, and even as I walk right past it, I can't help but to think…. Why couldn't Wendy be more like Kyle?

Posted: August 25th, 2007