A.N. Greetings everyone! I'm back with another chapter, and its actually pretty short, sorry guys. It was pretty exhausting to write so it seemed a lot longer at first until I checked the word count. I promise the next ones will make up for it.
Oh, I just had to have Mr. Garrison in here at some point, it's a given. So, enjoy the update and thank you for sticking around and putting up with me for so long!
"...So in 1312 when King Edward III kicked the bucket, there was a lot of confusion over who had the right to the throne..."
Concealed behind my pile of books, I scribble a hasty response before making sure the coast is clear.
He's absolutely barmy. This is basic history, we're not in year six anymore. I've gone over the War of the Roses hundreds of times by now Ken...
I crumple the paper into a ball, throwing it in Kenny's direction. I miss the surface of his desk but he still manages to catch it, smirking at me as he smooths out the paper. He chuckles to himself, writing his response before returning the note.
Not like this you haven't.
"...And the parallels become increasingly clear. The Lancasters – renamed as the Lannisters, and the Yorks - who are known as the Starks, battle it out for the right to the throne. Also, in Game of Thrones, the opposing houses..."
Bloody hell. How is he still allowed to teach again? I hardly see how this is remotely relevant to the syllabus.
I throw the note back, purposely throwing it further away from him this time, causing him to make an effort to catch it. He rolls his eyes theatrically, teasing rather than genuinely annoyed. He seems to take a moment to decide how to respond before throwing the crumpled ball violently, causing it to collide dead on with my face. I flip him off offhandedly as I read his response.
Perhaps he has some dirt on the higher-ups. There must be something weird going on or they probably would have fired him years ago.
I return with another response of my own.
Not everyone is a scumbag like you, Kenny. He might just be on good terms with them.
Yeah right. Most people wouldn't go near him if their lives depended on it. There has to be something more to it, Kyle. I'd bet on it.
Like you could even afford to, poor boy. Don't make me laugh.
It's just a figure of speech, douchebag. Cartman is certainly rubbing off on you.
I grimace at the mentioning of his name, desperate to keep myself preoccupied from the troublesome thoughts swirling in my head. Kenny notices my shift in mood, his expression quickly growing concerned.
A new note.
I think we need to talk.
No. I'm dealing with it, I just need you to stay out of it, okay?
But you're not really, are you?
Kenny, please. Just don't.
Okay… but if you ever need to talk about things, I'm always here. The Kenny hotline is open 24/7
To be honest, I'm touched by his offer. I might take him up on it... if I find a way to begin to come to terms with things myself, that is. I smile at him reassuringly, on the verge of speaking as I'm suddenly interrupted.
"Craig Tucker! This is the third time this week! Shut your gob during my class or you'll be having your little chats with the head of department instead, understood? Don't test me."
"Yes, Mr. Garrison. I won't do it again."
Craig shifts his chair away from Tweek's, looking rather pissed off by the interruption. Tweek, however, seems rather embarrassed, looking around frantically before instinctively gripping onto Craig's jumper. Eager to keep up appearances he pushes away the blonde boy, making a show of being irritated by the action. However, once the attention of the class is diverted he procures a blue thermos from his bag, passing it secretively to his blonde counterpart. His grip maintains on the flask a moment longer than it needed to, their hands meeting tenderly before drawing away, nervous to avoid arousing suspicion.
It brings a smile to my face to witness such a tender moment, a small but caring action. Is that honestly something I could expect to have with Eric? Is he really the kind of person I could be truly happy with? Even if my heart doesn't concur, there are shrill warning sirens ringing relentlessly in my head. If we were together, he could destroy me. Hell, it feels like he already is.
Distancing myself might be painful now, but I'm saving myself from the agony he'd likely put me through otherwise. I can't risk having my heart broken again, I can't.
If I let him, he'd ruin me… right? It's best this way.
Another note lands on my desk, and I consider throwing it back into Kenny's face before I register that it had flown in from behind me instead. I nervously eye the paper, investigating it with a delicate hand as if it were alive and vicious. I immediately recognize the spidery scrawl of Eric's handwriting, and my breath hitches in my throat. This is preposterous! I can't even look in his general direction without my pulse accelerating to the point I fear it'll tear from my chest, a can't hear his voice without my stomach weaving into knots. We haven't spoken at all for the last 20 or so hours, and I can barely think of anything else. I briefly considered illness, but I can't lie to myself – this infatuation is so virulent, so insanely palpable that it can't be described any other way.
It's a violent addiction, a wicked need. A need for him, for anything I can get. The mere scent of him has a frankly terrifying effect on me; my body, my mind. I can't think straight, every feeling just floods my head and I battle to contain them, failing miserably. I can't pinpoint a single emotion; it's just too frightening, so foreign yet dreadfully intense. I'd honestly convinced myself I could do this, but I can't. I can't just forget him, he's burrowed under my skin like a parasite, suckling sweetly until I'm weak and empty – tearing all the emotions from my conflicted body. Does he even know what he is doing to me? Is he even aware of the way he is destroying me? He makes me sick in the most wonderful way, and the fundamental contradictions somehow make it all the more sweeter.
I smooth the parchment with a caress of my hand, hesitating before reading the message.
We need to talk Kyle.
It seems as if everyone wants to talk lately.
I scribble my response, making sure Mr. Garrison was preoccupied before throwing it in his direction.
Okay.
"This is not a mistake… this is not a mistake." I murmur to myself, biting unconsciously at the lining of my cheeks as I glare at my own reflection, trying and failing to build some semblance of courage. Thee feelings aren't going anywhere and I know it's inevitable that I'll have to face reality sooner or later, but knowing I'll be facing him after all of this avoidance and dwelling fills me with the venomous traces of dread.
If we're going to make this work we need to be strong; both of us. I need to pull myself together for both of our sakes.
"I can do this."
With this final resolution I compose myself. I leave the bathroom, hands trembling in anticipation as I reach the stairs. Almost there, I reassure myself. Two more flights of stairs to the roof.
He'd told me the passcode for the door – the number scrawled across my palm – in his note. I don't know how exactly he got it but by now I guess I've learnt not to question the method behind the madness… not for small things like this, anyhow. It's best to focus on more pressing matters.
Namely, how on earth I'm supposed to articulate my thoughts and feelings when I barely even understand them myself.
"Hey fag!"
Perfect.
"Fag wait up!"
I spare him a glance and I wish I didn't. This asshole again – some blonde homophobe with a penchant for inflicting misery. He makes me uneasy with his mere presence, his character so blatantly unsavoury that he seems like some thug from the dark recesses of the shitholes of London or some ex-inhabitant of a young offender institution. I speed my pace but he's almost a good foot taller than me, and in a few large strides he catches up with frightful ease. He has that natural intimidating bulk, and unlike Eric whose most incapacitating move would most likely be sitting on his enemies his larger weight is pure muscle. He's clad in a painfully clichéd denim jacket, sans sleeves as if he is dead set on appearing like some second rate movie villain from some low budget school drama with an unimaginative costume designer. I briefly consider vocalising these thoughts, but the way his hand clamps over my seemingly lanky shoulder – muscles rippling in his arm as he does so – reminds me that this is one enemy that I really don't want to be giving extra ammunition.
"You seem to be in a hurry. Off to see the loverboy?" He taunts, with all the grace and maturity of a twelve year old.
I bite my tongue, but the malicious twinkle in his eyes rouses my untamed fury. I clench my fists tightly, fantasizing about how I would feel to have this fuckers jaw against my knuckles.
"Well? Speak up bitch. I can't hear you…"
"You know what? Yes. Yes I am." I spit, voice acidic and patronisingly tart. His eyes narrow reflexively, taken aback by my boldness. I would scold myself for such brazen behaviour, but I don't care anymore... It felt good. Eric really has been rubbing off on me.
"You still going on with that? You're stupider than I'd given you credit for. It's a shame, really. Perhaps all that cock sucking has gotten to your head."
"I don't give a damn about what you think. You don't know what's good for me! I'm not going to let anyone ruin this for me again, so you can just back off."
"Hmm, you think huh?" He ponders thematically, hand poised thoughtfully at his chin. "...But I know what's bad for you, and you're lucky I'm considerate enough to let you know that that boy is bad news. God knows what kind of mess you'd get into otherwise."
"You don't know him like I do. It's not your call to make."
"You honestly don't believe me? Just think about this for a second then try and tell me that again with a straight face."
"I don't need to listen to your cheap scare tactics."
"Scare tactics? Why would I need those when the truth is much more revealing. You didn't honestly think he loved you, did you?"
That hurt. I cover the ache with a sneer, his words a punch in the gut.
"Fuck off. I don't need to deal with this."
"Who do you think it was that sold you out, kid?" He chuckles darkly, reclining against the wall. "Who close to you would have done such a thing? Confirmed everyone's suspicions and doomed any happiness you could have here?"
"I don't care. You can tell him to leave me the fuck alone."
"Why don't you tell him yourself…? You know, you should ask the fat kid about this, he might have some interesting things to say on the matter. You didn't really think you could trust him, did you?"
It takes a minute for his words to register, but once they sink in they burn like a caustic chemical spill, searing those frightful sentences right into my vulnerable and exposed skin.
"But… he wouldn't. He didn't. You're just a lying-"
"Keep telling yourself that. Anyway… I have some things to attend to." He dismisses me, tuning away from my shocked gaze. "Make sure to keep everything I've said in mind."
I don't even register my knees giving way until my back falls against the wall, shirt riding up as I slide to the floor. Holy shit. I hear him walking away, but my sense of direction is faulty as the footsteps reverberate in my skull.
He's lying, he has to be! There's no way it could be true, it just can't. He would never…
He would never. He couldn't, could he?
I feel bile rise in my throat as I bury my head between my knees. Of course he would. I'd be mad to think otherwise.
I feel something in me tear, a rupture of something deep within my chest as a pregnant sob is pulled from my throat, thick with loathing.
You idiot. You've done it again.
I'm such an awful person. How dare I do this to Kyle.
Anyway, a massive thank you to all my wonderful readers and hugs to everyone that leaves a review, you make it so much easier to get this thing written. I actually have a pretty solid idea of where this story is going now and I can say that things are only just getting started. This is already a pretty big fic, but the recognition in the Kyman community has been amazing. I've never seen a fanfiction take off like this so quickly, especially a work in progress - and I owe it all to you guys.
Lots of love, and have a great day
-NocturnalLament