Umm...this chapter may be more dramatic than humorous, but there are some issues in my heart that I really need to work out right now. You see, for me, writing this fic is like therapy. I feel run out...I miss my childhood, and I miss the adulthood that I can't have yet even more. I hate adolescence. I'm not a screamer, so I need to scream inside my writing, so to speak.
But anyway, you guys really do make me feel a lot better. Even if you're not reviewing...keep reading, allow me to share. I'd like to think there is someone out there who may understand me. To those who do review, you guys are the world to me. :D
Ngh...I also solemnly swear to do my best not to let my angst seep into this story (well, individual character angst will happen...I meant I'll avoid generally angsty situations.) This is purely a feel-better sort of tale, so I...I'm gunna try to do just that. K?
I'm liable to make some mistakes in keeping with the show since I've only seen like six episodes of it and not the movie. So let it slide if you can.
IBB: Hey! It didn't take me ten thousand years, after all! XD Unfortunately I don't think there's much good imagery in this chapter, but there is plenty of Kenny/Wendy. :) I loveeee youuuu ( btw, did you ever get that drawing I did for you, of Kyle failing at cooking? It's on DA.
LC004: YAY IT'S YOU. Oh hay 8D I think if you were waiting for Kyle/Stan loving you may be happy with this chapter. ...Sorta. xx btw, I really appreciate the comment about Stan's emotions being believable. I don't wanna take this too fast, but I also think that if I take it too slow it won't make sense, because stuff like this happens FAST.
PhoenixII: Thanks to you again. Btw, I will catch up on your story, I promise. (heart) Love
Lumina-Lin: Are you crying now that I updated? ARE YOU? You said you would, you said you would!! (whines) Just kidding. I love your reviews for real, and I love you too :'D Keep on reading!
Fletset: Oh, yeah...I guess Cartman has grown up a little bit. (heart) I like him better as a silent asshole, too.
asteriskin': you know what's funny? I love you more and more each chapter, too!!! Oohh your reviews (heart) (flails happily)
blockofthewritingkind: Wow, thank you so much! You put me on alert at the perfect time, because I'm just about to post this chapter! Hehe. (smile)
METhOD 06: The Unavoidable Changes
"I cannot say whether things will get better if we change; what I can say is they must change if they are to get better." –George Lichtenberg
"Oh, well," said Satan. "What's this, now? I'm positive I didn't have you down for at least another two or three days..."
Brushing ashes from his face and idly fondling the squishy bullet hole in the side of his head, the blonde boy stood and shrugged.
"Sorry, it got crazy and...you know how it is." He pursed his lips as Satan yawned.
"Not particularly, but I've no complaints. I did say you're always welcome..."
Kenny flashed the reddish dude a characteristically bright, crooked-toothed smile and chuckled at the raised eyebrow he received. "Thanks, but hey...there is a reason I came down."
"I'm dying to know," Satan replied.
"I died to tell you," Kenny's gaze shifted to the fiery ground for a moment. Oh, those lame-ass jokes. I almost burst out laughing but my cover would have been blown. Technically, I wasn't supposed to be down here.
After a quick stop, the pseudo-dead kid laughed nervously and started again. "I thought maybe you'd help me out...kinda..." he paused, trying to figure how to word this as pleasantly as possible: "Uh, well, maybe tweak some stuff that happened...y'know, maybe it'd be cool if some, um, stuff...maybe slips Eric's mind, and...well...uh."
Satan frowned and rubbed the spot in between his eyebrows, alleviating a bit of his confused tension.
"Sometimes, Kenneth," he said evenly, "I wonder if the only reason The Universe put you in Hell is because your virtues were lost somewhere in between the stuttering."
"Huh?!" Kenny stopped, eyes wide. "Wait, what?"
"...Yes, yes." Satan sighed. "I can assist you."
"Sweet..." the blonde chewed his lip apprehensively. "But not for free...?"
"Well, certainly not." The devil shot him an eerie smirk. "I am Satan, after all."
Kenny fidgeted a bit. "Not my soul, though...right?"
"Oh! Oh! Do spare me your grossly exaggerated tales. I never understood what could make you ridiculous mortals think I'd ever want your souls." He frowned, truly contemplating. "Nasty, useless things, they are. I'd much rather have something like love notes written in grade school..." there was a glint in his eyes that Kenny didn't like. "The embarrassment potential is of satanic levels! But souls...no...how boring..."
"I don't have any love notes," Kenny muttered, that being the only thing he'd really heard of what had been said.
Satan looked at him as if he were insane. "That is not what I'm asking of you. For something of this magnitude..." His eyes glazed over in thought. Kenny waited patiently.
"Mm?"
Satan narrowed his eyes and snapped his fingers. "I have it!"
Kenny gazed at him expectantly.
"Your compensation for my 'tweaking' of 'certain events' is..." Satan smiled blithely. "Five rounds of mini-golf with yours truly."
"Oh, hell!" Kenny moaned. "Take my soul instead!"
Satan frowned. "Six rounds it is, then."
Before Kenny could protest further, another Satan walked into the room with a big smile, two stubby clubs, and two golf balls; one bright teal, the other hot pink.
"Choose your poison," the second Satan joked and Kenny wanted to cry.
"The...the green one," he decided, moping pitifully.
Satan-two handed the unhappy boy the teal golf ball and one of the clubs, leading the way to the first putt-putt course in Hell.
--
"Stan...Stan, open your eyes..."
He did, looking around. He was in Kyle's room, in Kyle's bed; a little nervous, a little excited.
"Ky...?" His voice felt so distant from himself. "Where...wha?"
Then Kyle was above him. The fact that the other boy really was there, that he wasn't just imagining the voice, made Stan feel insanely relieved.
"Hey, dude," Stan muttered, smiling dreamily. Kyle only frowned down at him.
"Why did you drink, Stan? I'm disappointed in you."
Stan's spirits sank a bit. "I didn't mean to..."
"Really? You really didn't mean to?" Kyle didn't believe him, judging by that tone and expression.
"I'm sorry. Don't be disappointed in me. It wasn't my fault."
"You really worried me, dude," Kyle pointed out angrily.
Kyle was worried about him...
"Oh..." he replied dumbly. "I...uh."
Kyle leaned down, still frowning. He brushed Stan's bangs out of his eyes and their gazes were locked. Stan felt rather naked, having Kyle's mystery-colored eyes study him like that.
"Um." Stan swallowed. "Kyle? What?"
Kyle's frown loosened a bit and Stan was given an uncertain half-smile.
"Don't do it again...I get nervous. I don't want anything to happen to you. Dude," Kyle's smile became more genuine. "I really care about you."
Stan couldn't speak, but his mind was screaming: I feel the same way! I feel the same way!
"And..." Kyle continued, voice lowering. "I'll be really upset if anything bad happens to you..."
Stan frowned, grunting, and felt his eyes begin to water. "Shelly..."
Without any words being said, Stan knew Kyle understood. Kyle always understood him – nobody else really got Stan as well as he did. Stan only wished he could understand his best-friend that well, too. Then maybe Kyle might –
"I'll always be here," Kyle assured him quietly, leaning in and pressing his lips to the tears escaping Stan's eyes. "I told you I'll make everything okay. We'll all be okay in the end."
"I don't wanna," Stan muttered, his thoughts jumbled up and coming out wrong. He reached out and hugged Kyle down to his chest, and he was relieved to find Kyle didn't seem to mind. "I'm okay right now, right?"
"Uh-hm," Kyle affirmed, touching his shoulders. "You're okay."
Stan squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm really okay like this?"
"Yeah, Stan..." Kyle kissed his closed eyelids.
"I'm not wrong, am I?"
"God, Stan," Kyle laughed, trailing kisses down his face, to his lips. "You're perfect."
Stan's eyes snapped open and he shoved Kyle away, hard. "Don't!!"
But Kyle wasn't there. It was just blankets.
"Oh...my god," Stan heaved, whispering into the heavy comforter muffling his face. A dream? It was just a dream. A stupid dream...
"Stan, you awake?"
"Uh!" Stan jumped, sitting straight up and groaning. He had a slight headache, and he felt nauseated, but he usually felt at least a little nauseated for one reason or another anyway. "Hey..."
Kyle gave him a strange look and walked into the bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"You feeling alright? You totally passed out as soon as we got to my place."
"Actually...yeah." Stan frowned, flexing his shoulders a bit and looking to the side. "Uh, I should probably get going, huh..."
Kyle's jaw dropped so fast, Stan almost thought it might've flown straight off its hinges.
"Dude, are you kidding me? It's like three in the morning! Why don't you just stay the night?"
"I could," Stan answered quickly, not wanting to seem too eager to get away, but he only ended up raising more of Kyle's suspicion. Thankfully, he figured, he could still get away with blaming his behavior on the alcohol.
"Well..." Kyle frowned hesitantly, setting his hand on Stan's shoulder. Stan didn't dare respond to the warm touch. He was in it so bad!! Kyle quirked his mouth and squeezed his best-friend's shoulder. "If you really want to go home, I guess I could walk you."
"No!" Stan squeaked, the shoulder under Kyle's hand jerking sharply. "I – uh – I mean, it's - ...maybe I should stay in bed a little more, or something."
Kyle was silent for a while, then he removed his hand from Stan's shoulder and laughed kindly. "You're being even weirder than usual, dude," he observed. "Must be the alcohol."
Stan laughed nervously, lowering himself back into a lying position and bending his knees up somewhat.
"Hehe...yeah..." he swallowed over a dry spot in his throat, not daring to look up at the handsome eyes he just knew were peering at him in waiting. "Must be."
He closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep, though he didn't know why. He was just about as uncomfortable with the dream-Kyle as he was with the real one.
--
"Oh...damn." Kenny muttered as his teal ball bounced against the turning windmill and came right back to him instead of making it through the tunnel. He poked at the ball in annoyance. "You're serious?"
"Yes, very serious," Satan replied from his spot on the other side of the windmill tunnel. He'd cleared this hole a long time ago. He was beginning to think that playing mini-golf with such an amateur was more of a punishment for himself than it was for Kenny. "Your friend is very much infatuated with that Jewish boy."
"I shoulda known, I guess," Kenny said, sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth and frowning as he prodded the stupid ball up to the tunnel manually. It was his 34th stroke on a par-3 hole, but hell if Satan had ever mentioned anything about having to play the damn game well. "How does Kyle feel, though?"
"To be honest, I don't believe he's even given it a thought." Satan paused, and added with a tricky smirk: "...Consciously, at least."
Not thinking too hard about it, Kenny raised his foot and kicked the teal ball straight through the windmill tunnel. It came out the other side and knocked around the edges of the green a great many times. Satan glared at the ball.
"You're terrible at this," he remarked. "Next time, I think I'll just have you do my dishes."
"Dish duty sounds way better than this," Kenny said. After putting the ball unsuccessfully a few times, he bent over, curtly picked up the teal monstrosity, and dropped it in the hole by hand. He straightened up and narrowed his eyes at Satan. "What's my score on this hole?"
"I'd hazard a guess at forty-four or forty-five," Satan sighed, shaking his head. "Forty-quadruple bogey."
"That's kind of awesome, isn't it?" Kenny looked at him hopefully.
Satan frowned. "You must have realized by now that the point of 'compensation' in Hell is solely to make you feel bad about yourself."
"No fucken' way," the blonde sighed sarcastically. "I'm 'repenting for my sins' by having it shoved in my face that I suck at golf."
Satan nodded solemnly.
Kenny shot him a brief, nervous smile. "Hey, is there a water fountain around here? It's really hot..."
"Not on your life," Satan replied simply. "We don't drink water down here."
"Hardcore," Kenny muttered as they reached the site of the next hole. "Have any idea what's gonna happen to my friends, man?"
"I am no man," Satan harshed, setting his hot pink golf ball down to the starting point and putting it into an obstacle so that it bounced neatly into a wall and then rolled straight over to the green by the hole. "And certainly no fortune-teller. All I can tell you is that they're not due for the afterlife for quite a while."
"Ah, well." Kenny shrugged, swinging at his own ball casually. It clunked against the very same obstacle as Satan's had, but instead of ricocheting into the wall and then rolling over by the hole, it merely bounced straight back. The blonde frowned. "I sort of feel bad for Wendy."
"Wendy?" Satan asked idly, putting his ball straight into the hole. Now to wait for Kenny to figure out some absurd, rule-breaking way to get his own ball inside. "Is that your friend's girlfriend?"
"Stan's, yeah," Kenny affirmed, guiding his ball around the obstacle with the toe of his shoe.
"Well, she'll be fine." Satan folded his arms. "You're all too young for this to really matter so much, anyway."
Kenny paused mid-nudge and gave him a weird look.
"What? Too young? But what if one of them died and that was all they had to take with them?"
Satan stared at him blankly. "Then I'd most likely end up playing a much more productive game of mini-golf," he answered.
Kenny, still frowning, went on with his against-the-rules golfing. That was such a weird comment. Too young? He understood what Satan was saying, but it still bothered him. A lot. Did that mean he still had to grow up before he was at all worthy? ...Did the mere fact that he and his friends were teenagers mean their emotions weren't good enough to be considered real emotions yet?
He didn't like feeling so patronized, but he didn't really have a good argument against it. Besides, this was Satan. Maybe the guy was just trying to make him feel bad, just like he'd said.
"Oh," Satan spoke up after a moment, having had no idea what was going on in Kenny's mind other than how much he hated golf. "If you want a girl to feel bad for, you should take a look at this. It may prove interesting."
And with that, the putt-putt course, the clubs, the balls – everything – disappeared, and Kenny found himself standing in the middle of blackness, with only a square-ish screen before him. Like a movie, he watched as the world above took place before him. Without him.
--
Bebe screamed into her pillow for the sixth time. Hands balled into fists, she pounded her mattress mercilessly as she did.
"FAGGOTS!" She yelled into the bed. "I hate you all! Fucking faggots! Dirty freaks, nasty, sicko faggots!"
Hot tears rolled down her face and into the pillow. She threw her fist into the bed again.
"I hate you! All of you! Aghhhh!"
She rolled over and clutched the pillow tightly over her face, muffling her sobs. "Stan Marsh, you fucking fuck! You fucking freaky, sicko gay-fucking asswipe homo FUCK! UGH!"
More and more angry, incoherent, useless curses spilled from her pretty lips. Anger had to get out somehow, and this had been building up violently for a long time, now.
"You fucking gay-ass homewreckers, ruining EVERYTHING for EVERYBODY."
She paused and there was an odd silence. Then:
"I hate you! I hate you all! You damn faggot, you took – you took him from me!"
She sobbed into her pillow for at least twenty minutes, muttering angrily about faggots and fucks and fucking faggots.
"It's not fair," she told herself as she looked into the mirror sometime later. "It's not fucking fair. Why is – Why is everyone...what did I do? What did I ever do to them?"
"Wasn't I good enough?" She yelled at herself. "Weren't we good enough for him?! Why did he have to go and – and turn into THAT?!"
"FOR NO REASON!"
Both she and her reflection agreed: there was something cruel and unjust in the world that did not want her relationships with men to be normal. And how horrible that something was.
With an irritated, closed-mouth scream, she grabbed her mirror by the edges and hurled it across the room. It shattered noisily and that was when her mother knocked open her door.
"Bebe!" she cried. "What the devil are you doing?!"
Bebe turned to her and glared. "It's your fault! You weren't good enough, were you, mom?"
"Bebe..."
"WERE YOU? It's your fault, and now I'm the same way! The same fucking way!"
Her mom looked at the ground briefly before she stepped inside and tried to approach Bebe.
"Don't touch me!" Bebe screamed. "I've had so more than enough of you and your fucking luck! I'm turning into the same thing, I - I HATE YOU!"
"BEBE!" her mom hissed, stopping. "Calm down! You're being irrational!"
"No, I've had fucking enough of being CALM. All that's done for me is – is nothing! My boyfriend – I was so, so perfect to him, wasn't I? I was! I was! Fucking left me though, for no reason, and now he's hanging all over that stupid-ass brainwashing faggot - !!!"
The older woman frowned, a great amount of pain crossing her features as she carefully put her arms around her daughter.
"So. Fucking. Wrong. It's always the same – always the fucking same with me, has to end up so shitty and - !"
"Shh," her mom said softly. "Bebe, it's not your fault."
"Mom, it's fucking shitty, I'm so fucking – aren't you fucking sick of it, mom?!"
"It's not your fault," the woman said again. "It wasn't my fault, honey. There isn't anything wrong with me, or you."
Bebe took a while to calm down, her head resting against her mom's shoulder as the woman rubbed her back.
"He's an asshole, mom," she mumbled. "God, what a fucking asshole. I just don't see why he had to do that to us."
"It's okay," her mom assured her. "I promise someday you'll understand. I hope no more mirrors are broken along the way," she added, glancing warily at the mess on the other side of the room.
Bebe tensed up a bit, pulling gently out of her mom's arms and looking up at her.
"Sorry," she said. "I...I won't...do it again..."
Her mom gave her a small, sad sort of smile.
"Your dad called today," she spoke softly. "He says 'I love you, Bebe-bear.'"
Bebe kicked the wall and sank into a crouch, starting to cry again. This time, there was hardly any anger – mostly just sadness and confusion. How twisted. How twisted.
She really hated the world sometimes.
--
"Um," said Kenny.
Satan lifted his eyebrows and waited for further response. Upon receiving none, he shrugged.
"Well, your request has been put through. There should be no negative repercussions with Eric Cartman concerning the state of his belongings and your party." He paused. "That had been what you were asking for, yes?"
Kenny blinked at him dazedly, and it took a few moments to respond.
"Oh, uh." He frowned. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks."
Satan seemed unimpressed. "I take it you'd like to return, then."
Kenny looked down at the ground.
"Yeah, guess so."
BUUF! In a short burst of flame, Kenny found himself sitting in his own room, surrounded by a black circle of soot.
"Shit," he muttered irritably, standing and brushing ashes away from his face again. "Forgot I come back here every time."
He unlatched his room window and hopped outside (he was on the first floor.) Running away from the little ghetto of South Park, Kenny aimed for Cartman's house and didn't look back. He didn't want to deal with family things, not after seeing that whole fiasco. Maybe Eric could distract him - he knew the boy was supposed to be back from Denver by now. It was ten in the morning, Sunday.
"Hey..." he greeted quietly, to nobody in particular as he entered the Cartman residence. From further inside, he could hear clearly the passionate ups and downs of some new piano piece. Kenny smiled to himself and nodded politely when Liane walked through the foyer and waved at him.
He knew not to bother Eric when he was playing. The boy had a mad sort of passion that almost bordered on insincere...too oriented toward a different goal for it to purely be a musical thing. Eric, because he hated talking to people more than he had to, found a way to socialize without having to deal with others. That was in his music, probably; those ups and downs were comically reminiscent of a conversation. It was a conversation that Eric could fully control.
Eric really hated opening up to people. He was sort of arrogant like that; not trusting anyone else to be part of his conversations. Kenny supposed it also made the boy a genius, but that didn't mean he was remotely fun to be around.
No, Kenny decided; he admired Eric Cartman, but he'd never want to be like him. Kenny needed people too much.
He wandered back outside and noticed one of the neighbors was doing some winter gardenwork (with flowers that thrived in the cold.) He saw that the old woman was uprooting and tossing away some that looked like they would make a garden rather lovely. He had to wonder at this.
"You don't want those?" he asked the old lady. She turned and looked at him, a bit taken aback that this young boy was speaking to her.
"They're weeds," she explained wearily. "I've no need for 'em."
He stared at her. "Oh...weeds? Those are weeds?"
"Yessir," she replied, standing and patting off her hands on her thighs. She was dusty and dirty, but Kenny found he could relate to that, so he didn't mind so much. He bent and picked up some of the weeds, dirt hanging from their wide, clumped roots, and inspected them.
"I don't know," he said quietly. "It's not ugly or anything..."
The old woman laughed softly, going about her business as Kenny went on his way, weeds still in hand. (No, I agree. They really looked like flowers, especially from where I was standing.)
There was so much going on, all of a sudden, that Kenny felt a little annoyed for being so concerned with his personal troubles recently. Stan and Kyle had some kinks to work out between them, Wendy was probably going to get her heart broken, Bebe had major issues, and Eric had a lot of things he was sacrificing his own well-being to take care of, and of course Kenny had been no help to any of them.
He was wondering if it would be a good idea to die more often. Even though he'd end up having to play mini-golf or do Satan's dishes, at least he'd always have the opportunity to catch up on what his friends were going through. Satan always seemed willing to share the information. Not that he was friendly; he just had no sense of respecting people's privacy.
Hmm, what a day this was turning out to be!
--
As it turned out, a few more hours of sleep was exactly what Stan needed.
"Mmmgh," he groaned, just coming back to the waking realm. He yawned behind closed lips and wiggled his toes inside his socks, buried warmly underneath a lot of blankets. He frowned and shifted a bit. A LOT of blankets.
Sweaty, he pulled them off of himself, but the room felt just as hot. He moaned in exasperation.
"Kyle?" He called, and Kyle appeared a few seconds later, curiously. When the redhead peered into the room and saw Stan was up, he grinned widely.
"Dude, hey." He walked over to the bed and put his hands on his hips, looking down at Stan's uncomfortable expression. "Feel okay now?"
"Eh," Stan shrugged half-heartedly and then squinted. "I'm hot, dude..."
"Naw!" Kyle dropped his hands from his hips and giggled stupidly. "You're sexy, dude! Caliente, dude!"
Stan moaned as if in great pain and rolled over onto his stomach, shoving his face into the pillow and pulling his knees in. He muttered something incoherent and angry-sounding into the pillow and wiggled a bit, as if asking Kyle to Let up, okay?
Kyle sighed and shoved Stan over.
"We can move to the basement if you're that uncomfortable," he said, half-smiling down at the dark-haired boy lying on his side and curling in on himself like a cat. It also added to the humor that Stan was looking up at him like a kid who'd just touched a hot iron and had no idea why it burned so much.
"Sure," Stan agreed uncertainly and Kyle nodded.
"Oh..." Kyle frowned. "You don't need help walking or anything, right?"
Stan snorted and stood straight away, perhaps too fast because he felt a little dizzy and almost lost his balance. Kyle's eye twitched and he laughed quietly.
"Okaaay, but be careful," Kyle said genially as he walked out of the bedroom first. "I don't wanna see you hurt yourself, 'kay?" He snickered, actually kind of liking the images that idea had produced. What? It was pretty funny. Stan had potential for a future of physical comedy.
Stan didn't move for a great many seconds, staring at the doorway Kyle had just left through. What Kyle said...that was...like his dream, wasn't it? Weren't dreams supposed to be reflections of reality, anyway?
He frowned, sniffing as he padded on out, following the redhead down the stairs and down another flight to the basement. If only they were real, huh? Just thinking about that dream-Kyle made his heart speed up a bit and his hands feel a little clammy and his face sweat some. Oh, how stupid he was being! But at least, in the basement, the temperature was considerably lower, and it was helping him calm down. He didn't want to freak Kyle out.
"Want some juice?" Kyle asked him, already comfortably seated on one end of the leather couch. He had the remote for the TV in his hand, idly flipping through channels. He quickly decided on cartoons, though he didn't seem too interested in them. Neither was Stan, honestly. He was more interested in watching Kyle.
(How gay.)
"Sounds good," Stan nodded, taking a seat way on the other end of the long, L-shaped couch. He blinked. Was it just him, or did Kyle seem disappointed that Stan hadn't sat next to him? No, it was probably just him.
"Orange is fine?" Kyle inquired further, setting the remote on the glass tabletop and standing. Stan smiled a 'yes.'
Once Kyle was back upstairs, Stan sighed and dropped down on the couch, lying on his back and crossing his ankles on the armrest. He folded his arms behind his head and stayed like this for a while – until he realized that he was freezing his butt off.
"Ugh," he complained, turning on his side to face the back-rest and folding his legs up for warmth. Dammit, was there no happy medium?!
"Stan?" Kyle was back. "You okay?"
"Cold," he said, and Kyle grunted noisily. Stan could hear the 'clack' of what he assumed was a glass of juice on the table.
"Tough-effin-luck," Kyle said in a low voice. "You're a big boy...you can handle it." With that, Kyle plopped down on the couch, next to Stan this time. Stan turned his head and could see Kyle's thigh right by his face.
"...Thanks a lot," Stan groused, slowly sitting up. He stared at the other boy dazedly. Kyle was just watching the TV, but he seemed distracted.
Kyle caught on quickly and glanced at him. "Huh?"
"Uh, nothing." Stan folded his legs Indian-style and leaned back into the couch, trying to get comfortable even as his heart banged rapidly against his chest. He closed his eyes serenely. "Just thinking about how nice you always are to me."
Kyle's eyes rounded and grew wide. "I hope you're not being sarcastic, dude!"
"Nooo..." Stan overtly gazed at the ceiling.
Kyle gasped. "Stan, you can't be serious! Just because I didn't rush to – what do you want me to do, bring you a personal radiator??"
Stan laughed noisily and Kyle smirked at him in irritation, stifling a yawn. He was glad Stan didn't seem too worried about the rumors at school anymore – that they were back to being best-friends. He'd kind of missed these playful arguments.
"You should have!" Stan insisted, as if it weren't a totally ridiculous request. "Or warm me up some – other...way." He stopped and his face straightened out strangely. Kyle blinked, not really comprehending what had suddenly freaked Stan out so much.
"Uh, 'kay." The redhead gazed at him in wonderment. He couldn't believe how dumb Stan could act sometimes, and just for attention, too. "What, you want a hug?"
Stan's face darkened a bit and he laughed nervously. "No, I didn't say that."
Kyle cocked his head and folded his arms. "You suure?" He teased, and Stan barked:
"Yes!! God, Kyle, you're such an asshole."
Kyle laughed and shoved Stan's shoulder playfully. "Tell it to someone who cares," he said. "Stanley Marsh, you don't deserve a friend like me."
Stan joke-pouted and scrunched his nose up, baring his teeth and shrugging. "Nyah."
Kyle laughed tiredly, just noticing how he and Stan had turned on the couch and were facing one another, now. He let out a heavy breath and dropped forward with another exhausted chuckle, forehead resting on Stan's shoulder. He didn't think about it, but because he'd been worrying over Stan and hadn't slept at all last night (there had been a good special on TV, and he'd done his homework, too,) he was now feeling the consequences, and he just about fell asleep right on top of his best friend.
Stan didn't dare to move, caught completely by surprise. He inhaled deeply to steady himself, and some of Kyle's hair tickled his nose.
"Kyle, you okay, dude?" He wondered, feeling very bad. He hadn't even considered how Kyle could be faring through all this.
"Uh-huh," Kyle mumbled sleepily, his breath warm on Stan's upper arm. "Sry...jus' tired..."
Stan had to fight from shaking with excitement. This was too weird, he decided. But he really, really liked the closeness. He wasn't too awfully cold anymore, and he thought that maybe he'd like to stay like this forever. It was kind of silly of him, sure, but he often felt like the world was too big of a place for someone like him and he sometimes wanted no part of it. This was one of those times. This little world in Kyle's basement was just fine with him, even if that meant he'd have to live off of one glass of orange juice for the rest of his life. With Kyle this close to him (willingly and decidedly conscious, that is,) how could he complain?
"Kyle...?" Stan tried again, quietly. He shook Kyle a bit, but the redhead was pretty much out of it. That was, until Kyle pulled away from him and went to lie down on the other part of the lengthy couch.
"I'm takin' a nap," Kyle announced in between parts of a yawn. Stan nodded, feeling cold again.
"Kay," Stan said.
"Jeez, I'm so tired," Kyle added, as if the other boy needed to know, and rolled over, one arm and one leg hanging off the edge of the couch. Stan couldn't stop himself from smirking.
"Then quit talking and sleep, dude."
"Yep," was the slurred reply, and then there was no noise other than the cartoon on TV. Stan watched Kyle sleep for a while before he shifted his eyes to the television. It wasn't often that Kyle let down his guard like this (yes, Stan considered taking a nap without being under a blanket to be letting down one's guard.)
The dark-haired boy sat there and dazedly wondered why everything felt so disjointed, and why he was feeling so generally romantic. Maybe there was something in the air today.
He eyed the glass of orange juice on the table in front of him, and, deciding that his hope for staying in this little world with Kyle was ridiculous, deemed it appropriate to use up the resource. Besides, thanks to Kyle, his mouth was all dried out, and he was rather thirsty.
After emptying the glass, he licked the last bit of sweet juice from the corner of his mouth and sighed heavily, bouncing up and down in his seat out of boredom. What now? He looked at Kyle again and wondered what time it was.
Deciding he was too lazy to go look for a clock, he reached over to the other side of the table and picked up the remote. He flipped through the channels for a while, wishing he had any interest in television right now. If only there were something else to do...
He stopped flipping when he reached the Food Network and decided to watch as some chef who looked a lot like a dark-haired Kyle showed the audience how to make fantastic glazed chicken.
Interestingly enough, it was an entire hour later that Stan realized he was positively starving. He'd only eaten half a burger the dinner before and a few chips at Kenny's party. It had to be near lunch time, and he hadn't eaten breakfast, either.
He considered waking Kyle up, then decided he didn't want to be mean and that Kyle looked really sweet when he was asleep, then, from that, decided that he'd wake him up after all, because it crept him out to be sitting there and consciously thinking that Kyle looked cute.
Stan shuffled over and crouched down on the floor so he was level with Kyle's face. He jabbed his index finger into the redhead's cheek, and he felt Kyle jerk slightly.
"Mmm?"
"Hey, aren't you done yet?" Stan asked him.
"Mm."
Stan jabbed his face again and Kyle frowned, turning his head and snorting loudly. Stan laughed at him.
"Dude!"
Kyle opened his eyes halfway and sent Stan an unfocused glare.
"Mmmthe fuck?" He wondered, yawning and rubbing his eyelids with his thumb and forefinger. It was too bright in here, even though Stan was blocking most of the light –
Whoa, Stan was so close.
"What the hell do you want?" Kyle wondered irritably, not happy with being woken up. HE had let Stan sleep as much as he wanted earlier, so why couldn't Stan have returned the favor?
Stan frowned and leaned back a little, almost losing his balance. He was still crouching.
"Sorry...uh, if you're still tired, go ahead..."
Kyle scowled and sat up, hair sticking up funny, glasses crooked, and eyebrows all messed up. "Well, I can't now. Might as well tell me what you want, now that I'm up," he said, still looking pissed off. Stan almost regretted waking Kyle up when he wasn't ready, but he knew Kyle was always a waking-puissant no matter when it was he got up.
"Well, I was just, uh...kinda hungry, is all."
"Fer chrissake," Kyle groaned. "You could've just gone upstairs and grabbed something." He yawned and stared at Stan in a sleepy half-daze. The other boy fidgeted.
"Guess so," he laughed. "Aw Kyle...you're a big boy, you can handle it," he mocked.
Kyle scrunched up his nose and shook his head side-to-side in a 'ha-ha very funny' sort of gesture. Stan laughed at his expense.
"I'm gonna get a blanket," Kyle announced, standing up. "It is kinda cold down here. Stay there," he commanded as he bounded inelegantly up the stairs, and Stan mindlessly complied.
"HEY DUDE!"
"AHHH!" Stan jumped back and knocked his head against the glass tabletop. He switfly fainted, cueing Kyle to rush over and give him the kiss of life. Not really. Only the hitting of his head actually happened.
"I-ke!" Stan gasped in surprise as the hyper kid jumped high over the edge of the couch and landed with a 'poompf' on the leather cushion next to him. Ike made a funny face at him.
"Wassap!" the kid demanded to know, and Stan laughed anxiously, still startled.
"Um, well." He rubbed the back of his head and winced. "Nothing much."
"Yeaaah!" Ike struck a dumbass cool-kid-in-middle-school pose and screamed like a wannabe heavy-metalist. Stan winced again. "'Nothing' is what is going ON!"
"Jeez! You're so weird, Ike!" Stan cried out, scrambling to his feet. The kid started hopping around on the furniture as if in a video game. Stan swore, one of these days, Ike was going to seriously hurt himself like that.
"IKE!" Came Sheila's voice from the floor above. "Don't bother Stanley!"
"I'm not, duuude!" Ike struck that same cool-kid pose and then gave Stan a toothy grin. "Right?!"
"Uh, sure."
Kyle, holding a folded blanket with a banana atop it, came down the stairs and promptly smiled at the scene. "Ike, get the hell outta here," he said.
"Why?" Ike smiled back sweetly.
"Cuz I don't want you around. 'Sides, you and Stan look too much the same and I might get confused."
"Ugh. I don't look anything like that guy!" Ike wailed, and 'that guy' shot him an unappreciative look.
"You say something, Stan?" Kyle asked Ike, and the kid screeched in frustration. What a hyper little bro, thought Stan, wondering how Kyle had ever gotten used to it.
"Don't call me that, grr!" Ike bent over and got into a very video-game-ish fighting stance. Kyle threw the blanket and banana onto the couch and bounded forward, kicking Ike in the ass and sending the boy stumbling to the ground.
"Dude, not cool!" Ike growled, trying to stand up, but Kyle jumped over and pinned him down. He reached up and tickled his adoptive little-brother, who started screaming in laughter and protest. Stan watched silently as the brothers tussled.
"Ow! Okay! Okay! I'll go now!!" Ike said between laughs, hardly able to breathe. Kyle was giggling insanely, too.
"Get outta here, eh!" Kyle said, watching as the flustered boy scuttled away and up the stairs. The redhead then stood and turned to Stan, his cheeks stained red from exertion, laughter shining in his eyes. Stan felt awkward as his heart jumped a bit.
"You guys are hilarious," Stan commented from fear of the impending awkward silence. Kyle shrugged good-naturedly, hand (accidentally?) brushing the side of Stan's leg as he walked past his best friend, to the couch. Stan looked at the ground for a moment before eyeing the banana.
"That for me?" He wondered hungrily, and Kyle grunted 'yes.'
Stan frowned as he peeled it and took a big bite from the top, chewing slowly. After he swallowed: "Thanks, but I was thinking maybe something more like...meal food."
Kyle turned and looked at him. "I'm gonna clean up and we'll go out to lunch."
Stan smiled brightly, with bulgy cheeks - not showing teeth due to the second bite of banana in his mouth. He swallowed.
"Yahoo," he said lamely and Kyle smiled back.
"By the way," Kyle said as he moved to go back upstairs and 'get cleaned up.' "You might wanna call your house and tell 'em what you've been up to. Also, tell your mom we'll head over soon so you can change or whatever."
Home.
Stan frowned and tossed the half-eaten banana to the table, looking at it solemnly once Kyle was upstairs. Home. He felt so comfortable in Kyle's company that he'd totally forgotten about it.
He actually doubted they even had missed him. Rather, he doubted they'd had the extra energy to spend worrying about his absence. He often stayed over at Kyle's place...and besides, his family had bigger things happening right now.
He scratched his head nervously and glanced at the staircase, sitting down on the couch. He wished Kyle would come back down soon. He already felt lonely.
--
Kenny was lost in thought by the time he reached the park, and he was surprised to find it before him when he did snap back to reality.
"What now?" He asked himself, taking the sidewalk leading into the snow-covered park. The trees were kind of pretty, even though they had no leaves. It was just one of those things. Kenny had always had an appreciation for the beauty of unbeautiful things.
He walked along the dirt path for a while and then stopped, looking down at the frozen creek running alongside it. He wondered if there were little things living under there. There was big life like him and Wendy in plenty of places, but small life was everywhere. It really put things into perspective, especially to someone who didn't understand the idea of death in its entirety. That had something to do with his not-being-able-to-die and a bit more to do with the fact that he was still too young to really comprehend the concept of a finite existence. He was sure that most of his peers were that way, too.
By the way, the reason his thoughts had included Wendy was because she was sitting on a bench nearby. He only just realized this consciously, surprised with the strength of his focus (or maybe lack thereof.)
"Hey," he said, walking over. She looked up at him vacantly and, after a moment, gave him a small smile.
"Hey, Ken," she said.
"You doing okay?" He wondered. She looked sort of sad.
"Yeah..." was her vague, unconvincing answer. "I'm fine, thanks."
He shrugged. "Okay."
Their thoughts wandered away from each other, though they remained in that position: Wendy sitting on the bench, Kenny standing some two yards before her; both looking at indiscriminate spots on the ground. It was a comfortable enough silence, though.
After a few minutes, Wendy cleared her throat softly.
"I'm sorry," she said.
Kenny grunted. "What?"
"About last night...it wasn't really my business."
He frowned and tapped his foot. "No, it wasn't, but..."
Wendy looked at him and he donned an unenthused smile.
"But, well, don't apologize. I'm actually thinking I owe you one for it."
"Oh..." She giggled. "Starting to see things my way?"
"I have no idea," he replied honestly, and with an amount of seriousness in his tone that Wendy was rather surprised. "I don't really know how I'm seeing things anymore. Maybe I'm not even seeing at all."
She frowned; "What do you mean?"
"...No clue," he replied quietly, laughing in embarrassment at his dorkiness. Wendy huffed and a cool breeze ruffled her hair, sending it into her face. She pulled dark strands out of her mouth with a slight frown. Kenny smiled.
"I prolly shouldn't think about it too much," he continued. "Maybe we're not supposed to think about anything."
"No, I think about everything," Wendy declared, then smirked demurely. She hadn't meant to sound so arrogant, but at least Kenny didn't seem offended.
"So you were thinking about something before I came, huh?"
Her expression turned to one of subtle distress. "Uh-huh."
"Wanna share? I promise I won't tell anyone."
She made a face. "Thanks, but it's not really a huge secret."
"Mmhm?" He prompted, having fun. "So...?"
"Eh...you know. I was just...I was thinking about Bebe, and I think I'm being kind of insensitive. She has a...tough situation, you know?"
"Not really..." Kenny frowned, trying to understand. God, did Wendy ever look pretty with her cheeks all flushed from the cold.
"Well, trust me on this, okay?" She said, and Kenny had the strange urge to do just that. She continued: "Also, I dunno about me and Stan."
He was silent for a moment, and then he cleared his throat as he looked up to the heavens, discomfited. He was thinking about what Satan had told him. "Oh, yeah?"
She looked up at him helplessly. "I probably shouldn't complain. Things are supposed to change, aren't they?"
"Only if you want them to?" Kenny guessed stupidly.
Wendy chuckled. "Good advice."
The blonde boy looked at her, startled. "Seriously?"
"No," she smiled. "But I appreciate the thought."
Kenny played with a dirt spot using the toe of his shoe, thinking. "So you think things are changing between you and Stan?" He couldn't help sounding a little hopeful.
She picked up on it, but she didn't mind too much. "Yeah, I kind of think he's not into me anymore."
"It's probably not your fault," Kenny assured her.
"No," she replied with a shrug. "It's definitely not my fault. I just don't want to force things to stay the way they are just because I want to fight something as natural as change." She paused. "But does that mean I don't really love him as much as I thought?"
Kenny didn't want to just up and tell her that was exactly what it meant, so instead he hummed quietly and held out the plant in his hand.
"For you," he said, and she looked at him in surprise.
"Weeds?"
Kenny turned a darker shade of face. "How the – I could've sworn these were flowers!" He lied. If I had been in Wendy's place, I probably would have thought they were, too. I'm not remotely interested in plants, you see.
She laughed into her hand. "Are you serious?"
"Fine!" He said, embarrassed. "If you don't want it, I'll give it to someone else!"
"No, come on," she giggled on. "It's alright, I do want them. C'mon, please?" She coaxed, and he eventually handed over the floweresque weeds, the dirt still hanging from the clumpy roots at the bottom. It was the freakiest bouquet either one of them had ever seen, but Wendy kind of liked it. She, too, had an appreciation for the beauty of unbeauty.
"Mmm," she closed her eyes and inhaled from the top of the weeds deeply, pretending. "The scent is so delicate."
"You're making fun of me," Kenny muttered.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Thanks, Kenny. I do feel better now."
"Uh-huh," Kenny said, and then smiled back, finally daring to sit down next to the girl. He spent much of the next few minutes wondering how the hell he'd managed to make her 'feel better,' fairly proud of himself nonetheless.
--
Meanwhile, Eric Cartman sat at home, before his piano. He thought that having Kenny out for a while would have helped his concentration, but...
For some reason, he couldn't concentrate as well without someone distracting him all the time.
Was that messed up? Not that he cared.
"Mom," he asked as he walked into the kitchen. His mom was making stir-fry.
"Oh, hey," she greeted with a sweet smile, and he grunted.
"Where's Kenny?"
"I saw him earlier...he must have gone out again."
"Oh, okay." He shrugged. As long as Kenny hadn't run away and joined a traveling freak circus (alongside bearded ladies and Siamese twins) as the only male lesbian in the universe, he didn't really give a fuck where the kid was. You know. Basically, it was okay, as long as Kenny was going to come back eventually.
Yeah, yeah. He could wait a little longer for his necessary distractions.
--
Later that Sunday found Wendy, Bebe, and Red sitting together on Bebe's porch. What? I have no idea how that happened...you know as well as I do that I follow them around way less than, say, Stan and Kyle.
Wendy was hardly surprised when Red declared Kyle's official break-off from an unofficial relationship.
"It's okay," Wendy sighed. No, it wasn't weird at all that the three most unlikely friends in all of SP High were sitting together and having a moment of girl bonding. They had all been played in some strange way (intentionally or not) by the same boy, so they had common complaints. Complaining about a guy was what girls tended to bond over, anyway.
"Yeah, it's fine," Bebe said, rubbing Red's back in an attempt to comfort her. "He was a fag to begin with...it's not your fault."
"I don't think we should use that word," Wendy said with a frown, and Bebe huffed. Red wasn't paying attention. She was too occupied with her own thoughts.
"You...you're sure I'm not the one who turned him gay?"
Wendy interrupted: "You know, he never said anything about being gay."
Bebe looked at her.
"But he is," the blonde said simply. Wendy looked at the ground, having no argument to that. The more they talked about it, the easier it was to acknowledge it. Kyle cared about Stan a lot, she could tell. Maybe it was better this way. And besides...
She smiled to herself, glancing furtively at the flower-ish weeds sitting on the stoop next to her, out of the other girls' direct eyesight.
"Wahh..." Red fidgeted, thrashing mildly in frustration. "I don't get it! I'm so...good to him! I was even willing to go all the way...if he...wanted..." She groaned into her hands and sniffled.
Bebe scrunched up her nose and Wendy frowned in disapproval, but neither said anything.
"I know exactly how you feel," Bebe said quietly. "It's so retarded. You'd think guys only turn gay when they've had bad experiences with women."
Honestly, Wendy didn't like this conversation. She thought their approach to Kyle's and Stan's supposed feelings was rather shallow, but she excused it on the account that they were trying to justify their extreme feelings of victimization. They actually shouldn't be feeling this ill-treated about it. Wendy truly believed that neither Stan nor Kyle had asked to break this many hearts and then fall for someone of the same gender. She didn't hate the two boys for it at all. She kind of...felt bad for them.
Not that she'd ever voice these things to the other girls. They'd attack her for sure. She prayed for the patience to get through this session of mutual consolation, because she knew the other two needed someone more stable to help them get through this. She touched her weed bouquet lightly and sighed.
--
Next day was a pretty normal Monday morning. Nobody was sick; nobody was in a terrible mood. In fact, most of the kids seemed to be in higher spirits than usual, especially considering the fact that it was Monday.
Aside from the fact that Stan was shifting and fidgeting a lot, Kyle really had nothing to worry about today. Kenny looked rather happy, and Cartman was...docile, which was really the most anyone could hope for. From the seats ahead of them, Kyle could hear much chattering about the 'awesome party on Saturday.' He was surprised to see that Kenny wasn't even listening. He must have had something really important on his mind. Kyle wondered if he'd finally gotten a girlfriend, or something. That would be kind of awesome.
"Wendy and me broke up," Stan said out of nowhere, and it took Kyle a moment to even acknowledge the rather HUGE statement.
"...WAIT." He laughed and frowned at the same time, turning in his seat to face Stan. "Okay, okay, hold on. What?"
Stan gave him a strange look. "I just said Wendy and me broke up."
"Oh, whoa..." Assuming that Wendy had been the one to incite their separation, Kyle wondered if this was why Wendy had asked what she had on Friday night, in the coffee place. "I – I'm sorry about that, dude."
Stan shrugged. "Aw, no. It's fine...I wanted to break up, anyway."
Kyle pursed his lips. "Oh?" Then why had Stan been so shaken up when he thought Kyle and Wendy were getting it on?
The dark-haired boy laughed nervously. "Yeah, guess it just wasn't working out or something."
Kyle smiled. "It happens."
So they were both bachelors again. It felt cool, Kyle had to admit.
"Holy...okay, something is definitely wrong," Stan said, when they were inside the school. Kind of distracted, Kyle frowned.
"What? Why?"
Stan's eyes widened and he gestured wildly at his open locker, looking (in Kyle's opinion) like a total retard.
"Dude, it totally just opened! It didn't even creak or anything!"
Kyle shook his head. "Someone must love you today," he remarked sardonically.
To Kyle's surprise, Stan said nothing, merely looking away and gathering his books. He looked sort of embarrassed. Kyle chalked it up to Stan not being as over Wendy as he claimed, and the redhead felt guilty again.
Stan shut his locker and they walked in silence. Kyle groaned inwardly. Why'd he have to say it that way? He forgot how emotionally sensitive Stan could be, but at least he wasn't claiming the end of his existence and trying to go Goth.
"Seeya," Stan said shortly as he turned into the History room. Kyle chewed on his lip and blinked after Stan's back. He went on to Creative Writing, hoping Cartman wouldn't bug him today. He wasn't in a bad mood, but he definitely wasn't feeling too patient.
The next class period, Kyle moved along to the History room, feeling kind of sleepy. Stan flashed him a brief grin as he rushed along to his next class, but Kyle did manage to catch Wendy.
"Hey, Kyle," she smiled, looking a little anxious. "I take it Stan told you?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "Is that why you asked me that question the other night?"
She blinked, and then her face strained in recognition. "Oh, actually, no. Then, I thought I wanted to stay together, and I do care about him, but you know. I just don't think we were working romantically. I only realized it this weekend."
He folded his arms and leaned against a vacant desk, nodding in interest. "Things happen fast, I guess."
"Oh, God," she sighed deeply, thinking about her morning in the park with Ken, and the weed-bouquet. "Do they ever!"
He smiled fondly as she rushed off to her next class.
Kyle was growing increasingly sleepier as the next few minutes dragged on and on. He'd almost completely forgotten about the penpal thing over the weekend, but now he found himself morbidly curious to see what Mr. E was up to. Maybe it was something less stagnant than Kyle's life at the time. (How could he call this stagnant?? He really had no clue. For some reason, he felt like he was trapped in a difficult place.)
He yawned noisily upon logging into his inbox account. Resting the side of his face on his hand, he clicked on the new message.
Hey, TOD...how are you?
a lot of stuff has happened to me since the last time we talked...i don't think i can even explain all of it. well you were at the party on saturday, right? i think our entire grade was there...so i accidentally drank some punch i didnt know had alcohol in it and ...i dont really remember what i did, but i think I mightve said some stuff to my best friend that i shouldnt have, you know, because she was there. she was pissed at me but I dont think she is anymore. i dunno, shes just awsome like that. i felt better after a while, so dont worry about that part.
im freaking out because my sister's come back from university and i guess her boyfriend's been hitting her. i wanted to ask my best friend for help but im too damn scared to talk about it in person...my sister's never been really nice to me, but that doesnt mean i wanted her to get into shit like that!!! i just dunno what im supposed to do. i dont know if i can even do anything at all.
and what else, my girlfriend and me broke up. i think she knows how i feel about my best friend, and i guess i should be happy she understands, but...i cant really explain why, but i cant say anything to my best friend about it.
but ive been acting like a total idiot around her and im worried shes gonna notice and get freaked out. i stayed over at her place on saturday, and i think i cant do it anymore because im really going crazy. just watching her tickle her brother made me sort of jealous. i mean, i cant think about it or ill just get depressed. cause i don't know if ill ever really get to feel that way with her because we're always just 'best friends.'
sorry this was so long...hope your not bored. thanks dude.
Mr. E
P.S. i think im gonna give up chess, haha. it really is too hard for me.
Kyle was sitting up straight at this point.
"Whoa," he said after reading it over again.
That was not a coincidence.
This was no coincidence.
Kyle closed the window and raised his hand, waiting for Mrs. Cox to come over.
"Can I go to the bathroom?" he asked once she did. She nodded,
"Of course. Go ahead."
When he got there, he was pleased to see it was otherwise empty, and he went over to the sink, turning on the faucet. Before he could even let himself think about this for real, he needed to wash his face. There were doubts and a part of him that wouldn't wash away before, and now he felt like they finally might. This was really the moment when he could say he was moving onto a different stage in his life. He splashed the cold water onto his face and felt more awake than he had for months now, and he knew this must be another step into adulthood. It was refreshing. It was scary.
He grabbed some towels and dried his face. Gripping the edges of the sink tightly, he bent a bit and stared at his reflection for a while.
"So," he said, and his reflection said it back at the same time.
He didn't necessarily want this to happen, but who in their right mind ever wanted change, at first? Looking at himself, he saw what Stan probably saw every day, and he wondered: How the hell could Stan feel the way he claimed to feel? Kyle didn't really hate this person in the mirror, but he didn't find the boy looking right back at him to be particularly...lovable. It was difficult to understand, but he would try.
"Stan," he said. This was what Stan saw whenever Kyle called his name.
He shuddered a bit and laughed at himself, letting go of the sink and standing straight. This was the short, skinny redhead standing before him that Stan admired so much. This was the same guy that Kyle himself had convinced Stan he was in love with.
"Nah," he said lightly. Not 'convinced.' More like 'made to acknowledge.'
He did find it possible to believe the person he was looking at was a person Stan really did feel that strongly for.
"Maybe," he said. The boy-in-the-mirror's eyes grew a bit wider. He'd washed away the dust of one part of his life and now he could see a little clearer. Maybe it was time to change, after all.
Kyle was relieved to see that the boy in the mirror was smiling back at him.
No, it wasn't so bad that Stan loved him. He probably loved Stan, too. He had to do a bit of soul-searching first, but he was pretty sure he did.
--
After one rather uncomfortable hour of sitting next to Red in Trig, Kyle confidently went along to the lunchroom.
He wasn't really too hungry. What he was excited to do was see Stan, now that he had this new knowledge. He was excited to see everything differently than he'd been seeing it for the past few months.
"Hey guys," he said, plopping down in the seat next to Stan. Kenny shot him a jelly-filled smile and the redhead made a grossed-out face. Kenny giggled.
"Hey," Stan sighed, popping fries into his mouth one-by one. At about five, he actually started chewing. Kyle wanted to observe his best-friend, but he didn't really want to make Stan uncomfortable. Besides, he was thinking of keeping up the TOD thing for a while. He wasn't telling Stan he knew...not yet. He wanted to help Stan work out his issues through the email thing; not immediately chase Stan away by saying something as monstrous as 'Oh by the way, TOD is me.'
Though it would be funny to see Stan's face if he did, but whatever. Eventually. For now, he was going to make his best-friend understand that it was okay to talk to him about his problems.
"So, you look happy," Kyle said, smiling at Kenny, who looked back at him quizzically.
"Uh, yeah." He smiled slightly but said nothing about his thoughts, especially as he hadn't heard that Wendy and Stan were no longer together. He'd be glad when he found out later, though. "You look kinda happy, yourself."
"Aw, just in a good mood," Kyle said.
Stan still hadn't said anything. The redhead turned and knocked his knee against Stan's leg for attention, and the dark-haired boy looked significantly more nervous. Oh, yeah. It was so obvious now.
"Something wrong?" Kyle pretended to wonder, sending Stan his most winning of smiles. Stan glanced at him and glanced away, then looked back. Their legs were still touching. Stan shifted uneasily.
"Nope," he said, frowning. "Uh, Kyle...what's up, dude?" His tone implied he could tell the other boy was up to something, but the redhead just shrugged.
"It's nothing," Kyle said. He couldn't lie to himself and say this was only about making Stan squirm. He was also kind of...getting off...on their touching legs. I couldn't begin to tell you how fun this was to watch from my booth on the other end of the lunchroom. I wish I could have been sitting closer but I would have been conspicuous.
Stan shifted again, eyes darting away as he lifted his slushie to his mouth. Kyle looked at Kenny (dunno why) and then at Stan and leaned over, reaching for the drink. Instead of taking it, though, he wrapped his hand around the one Stan had around the cup and tilted the cup toward himself. He caught the straw between his teeth and took a quick sip, his cheek brushing Stan's as he did.
Stan put the cup down when Kyle let go, looking seriously buggered out. Kyle restrained the urge to laugh. He was flirting with Stan...it was so obvious, but he knew the taller boy was so afraid of Kyle figuring out his 'secret' feelings that he'd never call him on it.
"What? Did I do something?" Kyle once again pretended to wonder.
Stan's face had turned nearly red. "No..." he forced out nervously.
Kyle laughed and pulled his leg away from Stan's, deciding to leave him in peace. Stan was so funny. Stan was really, really cute. Stan liked him...a lot.
He had to wonder how he hadn't seen it before, but he didn't let himself get caught up in it too much. This was his time in life to take risks...he could think about the past later.
Change was definitely happening and it wouldn't do him any good to be afraid. Curiosity may have killed one cat, but old age had killed all the other ones! He smiled to himself, knowing he would much, much rather be that one adventurous cat who died a little bit early than any of the others who wasted their time sitting around, afraid.
By the way, at this point, Kenny had stolen at least fourteen of Stan's fries. That's what you get for letting your crush distract you, dude.
-end ch6-
11,113 words. Woohoo, and to think I was worried I wouldn't have enough material for this update.
For some reason, this chapter feels really retarded. Well, I couldn't think of a better way to go about it, because as feelings are revealed, it's kind of hard not to get a little more serious in how you write. And I hope you guys don't hate Red or Bebe too much. They're just a little a little immature at this stage in their lives. Red's too obsessed with Romance and Bebe's got abandonment issues because of her father. See...I don't want this to be one of those I HATE SOANDSO fics, you know? There's too many of those on FFnet, and I think, at the age I'm writing them to be, there's no reason for anyone to be worthy of your hate. Confusion is a dominant theme in this story, if you haven't noticed yet :'D
Guys, please support me! In my five years of writing fanfiction, I have never, NOT ONCE, completed a chaptered fic. I HAVE HIGH HOPES TO FINISH THIS ONE AND I NEED YOUR HELP IF I'M GONNA MAKE IT. I have fear-of-finality issues. Might have to do with being a perfectionist.
I think the worst part must already be over. O.o But...please review...I put a lot of myself into this chapter and besides, I'll love you forever and for longer. :( Sorry again if it was stupid though. I'm just in this really, really weird...philosophical mood.
Incidentally, I HATE MINI-GOLF!!!