Sapphires and Morning Glory
Miasma
Disclaimer: Notmine…
Summary: Kyle's bastardhood has major consequences.
-.-
Miasma • noun
1: a vaporous exhalation formerly believed to cause disease; also: a heavy vaporous emanation or atmosphere
2: an influence or atmosphere that tends to deplete or corrupt; also: an atmosphere that obscures: fog
-.-
Kyle woke up alone in the bed he typically shared with Stan. This alone was enough to royally piss him off. Already naturally angry at waking up, his anger was exacerbated first by the fact that he had awoken before noon on a Saturday, then by the fact that Stan wasn't beneath him still, and third by the note he found.
It was more properly a letter, typed out and signed with a flourish.
Dear Kyle, it began.
I'm writing you this because I'm tired. I love Kyle very much, but I love the Kyle I grew up in South Park with, my super best friend, thousands of times more than I love the Kyle that fucks me every night without preparing me at all and whips me so that it hurts to wear a shirt.
It hurts just as much to have to tell you this in writing, because I'm afraid you'll whip me if I tried to tell you this in person. You've changed, Kyle. You've changed and I don't like it. Or maybe, even worse, you haven't changed, and you've always been like this, a kinky little dominatrix that doesn't have any consideration for the feelings of others, not even their lover's.
I cried myself to sleep last night. I cry almost every night since the first night you took me. At first I thought you were just having a bit of fun, that these things really turn you on. But now, when the whippings get harder, and you pin me to the bed, and you almost strangle me while you fuck me … you're not trying to love me. You're just getting your rocks off, and I'm suffering for it. You don't love me. You're taking advantage of the love I have for you. All I am to you is a really good fuck.
Well you know what, Kyle? I'm not going to be your really good fuck anymore. Until you can love me properly, I'm going to stay with Kenny. You'll notice that all my clothes and books are gone, of course, that's why I left you this, in the hope that you don't shout loud enough to get yourself written up for a noise violation.
Love, even though you don't feel the same,
Stan
His hopes were in vain, though. Kyle's angry roar shook through the entire dorm, breaking not only his room's window and light bulb, but awakening the Hall Director from his apartment four stories down.
After accepting the citation and charges to replace the window and light bulb, Kyle whipped out his cell and dialed Stan's. He listened to it ring, and ring, and ring, and ring…
"Hi, you've reached Stan's cell phone. I can't take your call right now, and if your name's Kyle, I'm not going to. Unless you're Kyle, feel free to leave a message after the beep. Thanks."
Kyle left one anyway. "What the FUCK do you think you're doing, huh, Stan? You think you can cut me off? Huh? Huh? You're GOING to get your ass back here, and I'll be generous and give you until noon to do so. That's two hours from now. There's going to be serious punishment for this, Stan!" Kyle promised, snapping the cell shut and kicking the foot of the bed, relishing the pain it brought him.
Across campus, Stan sat on Kenny's spare bed and played Kyle's voicemail message. Kenny had made him promise not to answer Kyle's call, and it had hurt so much, because all Stan wanted to do was pick it up and apologize to Kyle, even though he had nothing to apologize for.
At the end of the message, Stan broke down in tears and handed the phone to Kenny, who selected the "Replay Message" function and listened to it for himself.
"You did the right thing, Stan," the blonde said, shutting the phone and going over to sit by Stan. "It's gonna be alright, if he was gonna be that big of a dick to you, he doesn't deserve you in the first place." Stan nodded, but continued to cry, and Kenny pulled him into a comforting embrace, allowing his abused friend to let it all out.
Kenny's cell phone, dorm landline, and Stan's phone received plenty of calls that day. Both continuously checked the caller ID features and any time Kyle called, they either let it go to voicemail, to reveal increasingly angrier Kyle's offering increasingly shorter time limits for Stan to return and accept his punishment, or picked up and hung up immediately, which did nothing to abate Kyle's anger.
By 8:00 PM, the redhead threw his phone into his laundry hamper out of frustration, watching it disappear amongst a week's worth of dirty socks without any satisfaction at all. It was apparent that threatening wasn't going to work on Stan, he really seemed firm in his decision.
Kyle would have to attempt another stratagem. That was alright with him…but it wouldn't be alright for Stan.
-.-
Notes: If you're wondering how this relates, there is a miasma about the relationship. The intense and unloving influence and atmosphere have depleted Stan's patience and tolerance for Kyle's kinkiness.
Also, based on a couple of suggestions, I have changed this story's title. The new title is based on the September birthstone and flower. Because I didn't want to simply re-title it "September," that'd just be lame.
Phoenix II
