South Park © Matt & Trey.
Thank you, lovely reviewers! :)
Stan's POV
It's Tuesday now. Kenny got detention for fighting during lunch break. What a fuckin' champ. He's always getting himself into shit, whether it's with teachers or cops. It's always authority figures. I think he has a little problem with authority figures. The cops don't hate Kenny, though. In their words, he's just a trouble maker. It's true enough. He has a good heart and he'll bear it to anyone, even the people who aren't worth it.
We are in English class right now. Kenny is fellating a sucker while staring at the teacher as she lectures. She seems distressed. I don't even think Kenny realizes what he's doing, so I nudge him.
"Dude… you might wanna stop that," I whisper.
"What?" He raises a brow, taking the sucker out of his mouth.
"You do realize what that looks like, don't you?" I ask. Then I decide to give him a visual. I curl my hand into a fist and make like I'm brushing my teeth. When my hand nears my mouth I tongue my cheek, giving him the cock-sucking visual. "Like you've got a knob in your mouth," I laugh.
"Oh," Kenny snickers quietly. "You're pretty good at that, Stan. Been practising?"
I just roll my eyes. Kenny likes candy almost as much as Cartman. Suckers are his favourite. He likes to have things in his mouth. He calls it his oral fixation and then winks.
"Quiet back there," the teacher warns us. She sounds tired and a little pathetic.
During our free period, all the dumbass kids decide to play spin the bottle in an empty classroom. Naturally, Kenny is all for it.
"What are we? Twelve years old?" Kyle snaps. He, on the other hand, is not so into the idea of touching lips with the other kids.
"It's a game, Kyle," Kenny says, patting his shoulder. "It's fun."
"I don't want to play," he says. "I hate those juvenile games."
"Just give 'er a try," I add. "What's the harm?"
So, we drag Kyle with us to the room, where there's a circle of other seniors who have the same free period. Wendy and Bebe wave us towards them and we all squeeze together.
"I feel so fucking nostalgic," I admit with a little chuckle.
"I know, right?" Wendy giggles.
Lola is the first to spin. It lands on Jason and the two of them share a brief peck. No spit. From there, it goes clockwise. Next is Annie, then Heidi, Jason, Butters, Sally and finally it's my turn. My hand is shaky slightly and I'm afraid I might get someone I desperately don't want to touch lips with... Like Wendy. Nonetheless, I give it a spin and who does it land on? Kenny motherfuckin' McCormick, who is sitting next to Kyle. This will, surprisingly, be the day's first same sex kiss.
I glance at him and I can't help but think back to what Wendy said. Experiment, right? What's the harm? So I shrug off the awkward thoughts and lean across Kyle to meet Kenny, who is seated next to him. We share a few sloppy, open mouthed kiss before tonguing it and a few of the guys whistle tauntingly.
"Hot damn," Clyde laughs. "Things are getting' heated between McCormick and Marsh."
Bebe and Wendy snicker after me and Kenny break apart.
"You're a good kisser," I tell him, winking.
"You too, babe," he says, wiggling his eyebrows.
Kyle looks somewhat disdainful. I'm not quite sure why. It's his turn now and he says, "I don't want to."
"C'mon, Kyle," I say, probably peer pressuring him. "We're all doing it."
He puffs up his cheek and relents, reaching forward and spinning the bottle. "Fuckin' hell, I've been swayed by peer pressure," he murmurs. It lands on Bebe and he gives Kenny a strange look, as if he's asking permission.
"Go for it, dude," Kenny says.
Bebe gives Kyle a kind smile as she moves towards him. She probably senses his timidity. They share a chaste kiss and I say, "See? It's nice, right?" I can't help but wonder if Kyle has kissed anyone since the first time he kissed Bebe in my old clubhouse. That was so long ago. Kissing is nice. It's innocent.
Now it's Kenny's turn. He spins it and the bottle points to Butters. Wendy spins and it points to Annie. Bebe spins and it points to Clyde, who looks like he's on cloud nine as Bebe gives him a very generous smooch. Kenny is smiling at the sight. I really don't get how he can share his girlfriend and not get jealous. I don't get how Bebe can share Kenny and not get jealous. Their relationship is so strange. I never understood it, but it seems to work for them and I guess that's what really matters.
Kiss after kiss happens and when it's my turn again, the bottle lands on Wendy. Fuck. I stare at her for a minute and she crawls over to me, giving me a peck on the corner of my mouth. Once again, fuck.
It's now Kyle's turn and who does the bottle point to? Me. He's so rigid I'm somewhat worried. "We don't have to, if you don't want…" I tell him quietly.
He shakes his head. "It's fine," he says. He leans forward and puts a hand on my cheek. The kiss is brief and nowhere near as spitty as the kiss with Kenny was, but it still feels important. I don't know why. Maybe because Kyle is important.
"Sweet," Bebe coos.
What a weird day this has been thus far. The bell rings a few minutes later and Kenny stands up before offering to help Bebe up. She takes his hand and he pulls her to her feet. They begin making out after and it's a bit weird to watch. Me and Kyle stand up a moment later. "Hurry or you'll be late," I warn Kenny and Bebe to wrap things up before leaving and walking to last period with Kyle.
All I can do is thank Christ that Cartman doesn't have the same free as us. Imagine having to kiss him? Ew.
After school, Kyle and I find Kenny before he can get himself into another fight. After we grab him, we meet Cartman in front of the school and walk home. We tell him about the game of spin the bottle and he laughs.
"Who'd you all hafta kiss?" he asks.
"I kissed Kenny, Wendy and Kyle," I snicker.
"Gay," Cartman chortles. "Musta been fuckin' awkward since you got dumped by the hippie bitch."
"Don't call her that, Tits," I snap.
He dismisses me. "What about you, poor boy?"
"Stan and Butters," Kenny snorts.
"Jew?"
"Bebe and Stan," Kyle informs, the words muffled by the cigarette between his lips.
"Glad I don't have my free at the same time as you fags," Cartman says. "I'm so not looking to gay it up with you losers."
"I think we're all pretty fucking happy you weren't there," Kyle agrees tartly.
Cartman then smiles deviously. "Then again… maybe it would've been fun. How would you feel about me kissing your ex-girlfriend, Stan?"
"You like her or something?" I ask, raising a brow.
"No," he insists. "I just think you'd hate it… Plus, I guess the bitch is hot."
"She's beautiful," I correct, "and not a bitch."
Cartman rolls his eyes.
I laugh, recalling a certain piece of information. "Dude, you do realize Wendy is part Arab, right?" I ask, fully aware of his many racist thoughts.
"What?" he snaps.
"Uh, yeah. She's fluent in Arabic. Her maternal grandmother is Middle Eastern."
"Oh, Christ," he murmurs.
Kyle rolls his eyes, throwing his cigarette onto the slushy pavement. "Racist fuck."
Kyle comes home with me. After we part ways with Kenny and Cartman, he asks, "Do you think it's weird?"
"Do I think what's weird?" I wonder.
"The fact that we kissed? Or that you kissed Kenny?" he specifies.
"Not really," I say. "If you asked me a year ago I'd probably think yeah, but nah. It's not weird." I guess I'll thank Wendy for that.
"Okay," he murmurs as we near my doorstep. "We're friends, right?" he asks.
"No, we're best friends," I say, pausing and turning to him. "What's this about?"
He shakes his head. "It's nothing."
"Kyle…"
"Really," he insists, smiling. "It's nothing."
"All right," I relent softly, finally opening the door. We walk inside and I don't bother announcing our arrival.
"Are your parents here?" Kyle asks.
"I don't know," I admit. "But it's pretty quiet, so I'm gonna go ahead and say probably not."
Kyle gives me a sympathetic look. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," I tell him. "It's just fucking annoying… I hate being home."
"Well, you're always welcome at my house."
I snicker at that. "Really?"
"Yes, really." He gives me a pointed stare. "My mom isn't going to force you to leave if you're having family trouble. She's a bit… extreme… but she's not heartless."
"Okay," I chuckle. "Thanks, Kyle."
"Sure, Stan."
"Want a bite to eat or something?" I offer.
"No, I'm –" he starts, but after the no, I cut him off.
"I'll make us something to eat," I insist. I walk into the kitchen and he lets out a sigh, following me.
"Fine," he says. He sits down at the table and I make a sandwich on a hoagie roll, cutting it through the middle and offering Kyle half of it.
I sit across from him and he looks at me accusingly. "I know what you're thinking, Stanley Randall Marsh," he states. "You're thinking, 'Is he going to eat it? Will he finish it?' Right?"
Guilty. "Yeah," I murmur.
He opens his mouth and takes a bite as if proving a point. "See? I'm eating."
"Right," I mumble. "Okay."
"It's always on your mind, isn't it?" he asks after swallowing.
"Yeah," I admit.
"Well, it shouldn't be. I'm fine."
"I can't help it, Kyle," I say. Yeah, he looks good now. He looks healthy, but I'm still worried he'll fall back into bad habits. It's always in the front of my mind. "I care about you… I fuckin' love you. You're my best friend."
"I know, Stan," he replies.
For a few minutes, we say nothing more. We just eat silently. I finish my plate and so does Kyle. I wonder why his eating used to be so…disordered. Sometimes I think it's all Sheila's fault. She controls the lives of both her sons, trying hard to mould them into perfect little men. Ike just seems to deal with it better. He just… goes with the flow. Then again, I know I'm not supposed to throw around blame like this. It doesn't fix anything.
The hand washing and other stuff got worse after Kyle got better. Maybe the eating has something to do with it. I don't know. I never really understood this kind of thing. I did a little research, though. It sounds like he definitely has obsessive compulsive disorder. Apparently it's not something that can be controlled, so I should probably try being a little more sensitive about it. I read that OCD is found in a lot of people with eating problems, though they're not necessarily connected… but maybe, in Kyle's case, they are.
I take the plates, put them in the dish washer and the two of us go upstairs. As we reach the top, I see my parents' bedroom door open at the end of the hallway.
"One sec," I murmur to Kyle as I approach the room. Inside, my mother is in bed. I move closer and stare at her. She looks like she's been crying and I feel my heart sink. "Mom?" I call softly, shaking her.
She opens her eyes a moment later. "Hi, sweetheart…"
"Where's Dad?" I ask, voice wavering because I already know the answer. "Is he at work…?"
"No, honey," she says sadly. "He's not at work… Your father... He left."
"Oh," I whisper. I turn around and walk back into the hallway in somewhat of a daze. I go to my own room, where Kyle is sitting cross legged on my bed.
"Stan…?" He frowns, probably realizing something is very wrong. "What is it?"
"My dad left," I murmur. I let out a few breaths and rub my hands down my face. I think it's only beginning to sink in.
Kyle looks apologetic, but he doesn't speak.
"Fuck…" I say before shouting it, "Fuck!" Then my eyes start watering and Kyle doesn't hesitate to approach me. Not a word leaves his mouth before he wraps his arms around me and not a word leaves his mouth after either. My mom can probably hear me, but I don't care. I want her to.