Play Crack the Sky
A South Park Fanfiction by DizzyAlice
Chapter Seven: (After the Storm.)
A/N: Hey guys sorry it's been so long since I updated last D: life has been crazy, I completely lost all artistic inspiration whatsoever for a few weeks, got stuck in the middle of this chapter and had to start over from the beginning, but finally it's DONE. Yay.
Now for an important note.
I really hate doing this, because I so don't want to be a review-whore, but you'll notice my most recent one-shot (They'll Never Hear Your Muffled Cries) doesn't have any reviews on it. Not a single one. And that makes me really sad, because I personally think it's one of the best things (fanfic or otherwise) I've written in a really long time. I just want some feedback on it. Please, if it's not too much to ask, if you could just read that story and let me know what you think? I would be so, so super grateful and I would love you FOREVER. Like, seriously. Every single review I get on any of my stories makes me so happy - if you guys review regularly you've probably noticed I reply to every single review I get. All of them. I love you guys so much, to take those couple seconds, minutes, whatever, to let me know you're out there and you enjoy what I'm doing, because I try to keep my self-confidence in my writing up but sometimes I lose the hope that anything I write is ever good and that's when I stress that I'll never become a novelist or get anything published ever. This is just one of my steps on my way to that goal. I'm not saying that I won't update if I don't get reviews, but I'm just way more likely to update if you read my stuff and you say something, anything, to let me know what you think. It could even be like one word. I'll still be so happy. You will make my day. I swear you will. Just let me know I'm not doing this for nothing, and that my quest to publish a book someday isn't a futile one ;_;
If you read that, then thank you for your time. Just think about it, please?
Oh, and please review :3
Having lived in Colorado my whole life, I sometimes forgot how beautiful snow could be.
While it snowed almost constantly in our small hometown, it was somewhat rare we would get a legitimate blizzard. When that happened, it seemed like the whole world just shut down for a few days. Everyone's power went out, no one even left their houses until the storm passed. There was a lot of board game playing and cabin fever that went into effect.
Life seemed simpler for a little while.
Of course, blizzards were always more fun if you happened to be at a friend's house when the storm came, especially if the power had already gone out. Everyone knows once the power goes out, no one is going anywhere.
But it's not good when the power goes out right in the middle of a heated round of video games with your boyfriend.
"Aw – aww," Stan complained, glaring at the now-black television. "I was just about to kill you."
I snorted. "You were not."
"I so was! I had this whole plan, like, I was gonna ambush you and everything…"
"Sure, dude. Whatever you wanna tell yourself." I grinned at him and he pouted. I leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips, which prompted an eye roll, but he couldn't help smiling just a little.
"Come on," he said. "Now that there's not much left for us to do down here, let's go upstairs."
I raised an eyebrow. "You sure? I mean, your parents are home, it's pretty risky…"
He grinned wolfishly, leaning forward. "We'll just have to be careful, then," he breathed in my ear, and by then my decision was made. All I wanted at that moment was to feel his mouth hot on mine again. "Come on," he said again, in a normal voice as he pulled away. "Let's go. It'll be fine, I promise."
"Okay." I smiled. He wrapped his hand around mine, practically dragging me to the stairs. This, however, was only until he stopped abruptly in the hall, causing me to crash into his back. He dropped my hand. I peeked over his shoulder to see that we had almost run into Mrs. Marsh.
"Kyle, dear, it looks like you're going to be staying over tonight. Is that okay with your mother?"
"Yeah, of course." I smiled.
"Alright. What are you boys up to?"
I could feel my face heat up as I though about what Stan and I had just been on our way to do. I quickly ducked to hide behind Stan.
"Not much, we're just gonna hang out in my room for a while," Stan replied nonchalantly.
"Okay. Be good."
Stan grinned. "We will." He turned and guided me up the stairs, following close behind. As soon as he shut the door to his room behind us, he pulled me to him and wrapped his arms tight around me.
With the whole issue of Kenny being the only one to know about Stan and I, it was hard for us to find time to explore the more physical aspects of our relationship. Sure, there were the few stolen kisses here and there in deserted hallways when we were both supposed to be in class, but it wasn't enough. We needed time. But with the constant threat of being caught, and the gossip of our relationship spreading through the town like wildfire, we couldn't afford to take very many risks.
But in a way, that was one of the many things I enjoyed about our relationship. There was that constant thrill, the rush of danger and adrenaline that got my heart racing at every small creak of the floorboards. It was this jolt of fear that made me hold him even tighter, kiss him even harder, relishing in the few moments we had left, alone, together.
I had come to be a firm believer in the theory that Stan's hands roaming over my bare skin was the most amazing feeling in the world.
It was difficult to think properly with our mouths at work, crashing together all tongues-and-teeth-and-saliva. The way our lips fit together just oh-so-perfectly, and – yes – his tongue sliding teasingly across the roof of my mouth was just too good, too fucking amazing, that it managed to completely wipe my usually busy brain into nothing but a blackness heavy with lust. Slowly, the world melted away until there was nothing left save for him, for me, for us.
Not much of anything mattered anymore.
Suddenly, Stan froze. His mouth quickly left mine. I half-opened my eyes to see him staring anxiously at the door.
"What's wrong?" I murmured, my chest rising and falling rapidly with heavy breathing. I reached up to gently stroke his hair.
"I just thought I heard someone on the stairs," he replied quietly, turning back to me and smiling slightly. "I think I'm just being paranoid though."
"Mm, better safe than sorry though, right?" I ran my fingers across his cheekbones, his strong jaw line, letting myself fall into his bottomless ocean-eyes. He nodded, smiling, slowly lowering his face to mine until our lips were touching again. This kiss was soft and slow and sweet, and while I certainly enjoyed the alternate form of wild, intense kissing, I think I preferred this gentle, nice way. It was light and relaxing, and let me pretend like we had all the time in the world, even though that was clearly not the case.
The door banged open. "Kyle, Stan, I – whoa."
At the noise, Stan and I sprang apart, panic and guilt rushing through me. Had we really just been caught? Again?
But then my mind stopped spazzing enough that I actually realized what was going on. "Kenny?" I squeaked. "What are you doing here?"
"I-I jus' needed t'talk t'you…" he explained quickly, eyes wide as he shut the door behind him. "Sure as hell wasn't expectin' that, though."
"How did you even get here? We're in the middle of a fuckin' blizzard, dude," Stan said. Now that the threat of being caught was over, he was sitting close to me again, gently putting the red curly mess of my hair back into some sort of order. I studied Kenny, who vaguely resembled a drowned cat. He was shaking and soaked, and while Stan's room was too dark to really see properly, I was pretty sure his lips were blue.
"Don' matter," Kenny answered Stan's question. His eyes shifted all around the room, and I could easily tell something was upsetting him.
"What's wrong, Ken?" I asked.
He sighed and moved to sit on the end of the bed, facing us. "I-I did a bad thing," he said guiltily.
"Define 'bad,'" Stan said.
"Like, really fuckin' bad. I wouldn't blame you if y'never wanted t'speak t'me again."
"Jesus, Kenny, what did you do?"
"I-I told Cartman," he said in an almost-whisper. "'Bout you guys. It was an accident, I swear, an' I'm really, really sorry…"
My mind could not comprehend this.
Cartman knew.
And if Cartman knew, that meant he would tell people. Pretty soon the gossip would work its way through not only the whole school, but the whole town.
Which would eventually lead back to my mother, who had always been so set on me dating and marrying a nice Jewish girl, who had always talked about how she couldn't wait to have little Jewish grandchildren running around her house.
And Stan was neither Jewish nor female.
Fuck. I was as good as disowned right then and there.
I collapsed into Stan, moaning "No, no, no" into his shoulder over and over.
This could not be happening.
My relationship with Stan – and most likely my life – was over.
"Shh, Kyle, it's okay," Stan tried to comfort me, petting my hair. "Maybe… maybe he hasn't told anyone yet. Maybe we can convince him not to."
"Yeah, right. You seem to be forgetting that Cartman hates my guts. And with information this life-ruining, he's likely to tell as many people as he possibly can."
"I'm real sorry," Kenny said again. He was cowering at the end of the bed, looking like he was scared we were going to hit him.
Stan sighed, still petting my hair in a feeble attempt to calm me down. "How did this even happen?"
"Well, Cartman found out I asked Butters out–"
"You asked Butters out?" Stan interrupted.
"Yes, I thought I told you this," I said.
"No, you told me he was going to ask Butters out. I didn't know he actually did it."
"Oh. Well, he did. Butters said yes."
"I want to hear that story after, but continue," Stan said to Kenny.
"He found out 'bout me an' Butters, an' he was rippin' on me for it. Said he didn't wanna be friends anymore 'cause he wouldn't have any fags callin' themselves his friends. I was jus' pissed, an' without thinkin' I jus' said, ''S too late, y'already got two,' or somethin' along those lines. The second it came outta my mouth I regretted it, I wish I coulda taken it back. But it was too late." There was a pause before he said yet again, "I'm real sorry…"
"Wait," Stan said. "If that's the way you worded it, maybe he doesn't know it's us."
A tiny shred of hope returned.
"No, he knows. After I shut up he was all, 'It's Stan an' Kahl, isn't it?' an' I already felt so bad an' I couldn't believe I said that an' he knew I was lyin' when I said no."
The shred was destroyed.
"Shit," I groaned. "What're we gonna do?"
"There's not much we can do right now," Stan said. "We can try to talk to him once the blizzard's over, but for now, we're stuck here."
I groaned again.
"Now," Stan said to Kenny, grinning, "Tell me about Butters."
I thought the slight smile on Kenny's lips as he started into his story was the first genuine one I had seen from him in a while.
Stuck we were, for three and a half days with nowhere to go other than Stan's house until the snow finally stopped and the streets and sidewalks were plowed. As soon as I checked in with my mom at home (who seemed to be as oblivious to me and Stan's relationship as ever, thank god) I set out to find Cartman.
This proved to not be a terribly difficult task, seeing as he was in his usual location of his living room couch, being waited on hand and foot by the servant he called his mother.
Mrs. Cartman was sweet as usual, letting me into the house even after Cartman yelled at her to slam the door in my face, much to her son's chagrin.
Despite the whole issue of her being a total crack-whore, Mrs. Cartman was a very nice (albeit slightly ditzy) woman. It completely baffled me how she could produce an offspring made of such pure evil – though I supposed that could've come as the result of him being completely spoiled rotten his whole childhood.
"Ah, Kahl," Cartman sneered, causing every cell in my body to explode with hate for him. "I've been expecting you."
"Save it, fatass," I snapped. "Just please – please tell me you haven't told anyone."
"Why, Kahl, I must say I haven't the slightest idea what you are referring to," he said, eyes widening with mock-innocence.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," I hissed.
"I have to say I don't."
I sighed, frustrated, and rolled my eyes. "What Kenny told you."
"Kinneh told me lots of things, Kahl. I'm afraid you'll have to be a little more specific."
"About me. And Stan. Come on, Cartman, don't be such a douche! I know you know we're dating."
His lips spread into a wicked grin. "I just wanted to hear you say it."
My hands shook and my teeth ground together and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to lunge at him and start pounding his blubbery face in. "Tell me you didn't tell anyone," I repeated through clenched teeth.
"Relax, I didn't. Yet."
"I swear to Moses, Cartman, if you say a fucking word to anyone I will fucking beat you so bad you'll–!" I screamed, jabbing a finger into his chest. He grabbed my wrist and squeezed it until I hissed in pain and managed to wriggle out of his meaty grip.
"I said relax, Jew! I didn't tell anyone. And I won't, if–"
"Ohhh, no."
"–If you do something for me."
I hesitated, then sighed. This couldn't be good. But what choice did I have? It was either do this for Cartman or be forbidden from ever seeing Stan again. But–
But wait.
"You have no proof," I said suddenly. "Stan, Kenny, and I will deny anything that comes at us. No one will believe you."
He sighed, as if annoyed that it had come to this, and pulled out his cell phone. After fiddling with it for a few seconds, he handed it to me. "Oh, I have proof. Don't ask where I got that either, my sources are confidential."
I examined the tiny glowing screen, which was displaying a photo. It was really bad quality, but it still clearly showed Stan and I in the empty hall at school, our lips pressed hard together.
Apparently we had been caught more times than even we knew.
"Don't bother trying to delete it, I've got other copies."
My shoulders slumped in defeat as I handed the phone back. "What do you want me to do."
He grinned. "There's a good Jew. Okay. Here's the thing. The winter semi-formal is in a month, as I'm sure you're aware, and there's this girl–"
"Hold up," I interrupted. "You want me to get you a date? I-I was expecting you to make me do your math homework for the rest of forever, or give you all my 'Jew-gold,' or castrate myself. But a date?"
His eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Not any date. You need to get the prettiest, smartest girl in school to go to the semi-formal with me. Not that anyone wouldn't want to go to the semi-formal with me–" I snorted, "–but I'm talking Wendy Testeburger here."
"Wendy Testeburger?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow. He nodded solemnly. "Aw, hell no. No. Can I castrate myself instead?"
"You have three weeks starting today. Get Wendy to go to the semi-formal with me, or I'll blow up that pretty picture of you and Stan to poser-size and wallpaper the town with it."
I sighed. "Fine. Why do you want Wendy to go to the semi-formal with you, anyways? Last I knew you thought dances were totally gay."
'They are. But I have plans. Wendy happens to be a vital element. You don't need to know any more than that."
"And you couldn't ask her yourself because…?"
He scowled, glaring at me. "Because I already did and she said no. You have to make her change her mind. Now get the fuck outta my house, Jew."
"Okay, okay, I'm going, geez."
I left Cartman's house with an uneasy feeling in my stomach. I had no idea how the hell I would convince Wendy to go to the semi-formal with Cartman. I had no idea how else to stop Cartman from showing that picture to everyone in the world, including my mother. I had no idea who had taken that picture, who else out there knew my secret.
My life was spiraling out of control and I was completely helpless to stop it.
A/N: Mm, the plot of this story has gained a life of its own. It's out of my control. I'm just gonna roll with it and see what happens. I think someone said something about there not being enough minor characters, well, that's gonna change pretty soon.
Cartman is such a douche =P I don't write him all that much, I hope I captured his relationship with Kyle well...?
More than halfway through this story though, six more chapters to go :3 I'm actually kind of excited to finish it because I have many ideas for my next fic once this one's over and I'm eager to start it. It'll be another K-squared, that's all I'll say for now.
I won't rambleramble about the importance of reviews after that whole TL;DR paragraph up top there ._.
But please review? =)