First off, I HAVE to thank all of my wonderful reviewers! IrishGoddess, you've been there every step of the way, and all of you newbies, I absolutely ADORE! Society's Cavity, holy hell! That was incredible. Thank you so much! BratChild2, Nene, MooseDeEvita, and takeflight, I hope you continue to enjoy this story. Thank you! And dansynqueen…you hold a special place in my heart : ) More reviews make me very happy, so keep 'em coming! As for this next chapter, I hope it's not a let down to the cliffhanger. I realize that was terrible of me, but you have to admit, it has you wondering. And I'm going to say right now that I'm not going to be able to fire out these updates quite as quickly, just because I fear I'm falling behind in school. No worries though. I WILL deliver.
Chapter 7- Turmoil
Kenny's POV
Kyle has been asleep for over an hour now, and I'm not the slightest bit tired. I analyze the ceiling tiles above me, contemplating the recent events of my life. The night had been great. We started out with this heart-to-heart about him and Stan, and I found out that there might be hope yet for my two best buddies. But I'm going to have to wait and see. I told Kyle he needs to get Stan alone, and, under a romantic context, kiss him. If he feels anything during this kiss, then he will know what he feels. If he doesn't, then he'll at least make Stan feel a little better about the situation, seeing that Kyle at least tried and all.
And so Kyle's going to do it. He has made up his mind that he will do it the following weekend, when he knows Cartman is flying over to see Wendy. Those two are getting so serious; I won't be surprised when he pops the question prematurely. Anyway, this will be the perfect time because Stan and Kyle can be by themselves, no fatass to ruin any potential 'moment'.
Kyle and I talked about his feelings and how confusing this whole situation is for at least an hour, but he got tired of thinking about the "what-ifs", and decided to go along with my plan. Shortly after, we decided to head out for a bite to eat, and possibly some entertainment.
We ate at this quaint pizza place on the south end of North Park, near my place of employment. I suggested this place because I made out with the owner's butt-ugly daughter, and she now gives me free pizza. Kyle laughed when I told him that. What? Its free food! You would have made out with her too. Sure enough, she was working that night, and Kyle and I shared some breadsticks, a pitcher of soft drink, and a large pizza all for free. We tipped her like $10, so that should be enough for me to get more free stuff in the future.
After the pizza, Kyle decided he wanted to go out to the bars. Actually, there is only one bar worth going to in North Park, and I got in good with the bouncer of that place—he lets me in just for being me. I snuck Kyle in the back door. We drank so many drinks in that first hour; Kyle started looking mighty tasty to me. I almost didn't have the willpower…or want…to keep my hands off of him. But we were there for a good time, not to confuse him any further. I kept my hands to myself, except when I was all over this slut with fake tits. Kyle watched us in the distance as he sat in the corner. He looked so out of place, and so…lonely. I'm pretty sure if I could have read his mind, he was thinking about Stan.
I took the slut over to the table he was at, and she randomly started making out with me. Then, she tried to make out with KYLE! He pushed her off with a gross look all over his face, but then he started laughing uncontrollably. He leaned over to me when she went to the bathroom, and whispered in my ear, "Stan is a better kisser." It was enough to make me smile. At least he was thinking about the possibilities.
We retired to my house sometime around 2, Kyle being unusually tired. He had eaten a piece of cold pizza and dozed off on the couch. After having a drunken snack myself, I went upstairs to my bedroom, and tried to lie down to sleep. But all I kept thinking about was Stan and Kyle. Not in a sexual way either. I know, I am as surprised as you are! No, in a deep loving sort of way. I realized this very night how much I secretly want so badly to find a love of my own.
And that's where I'm at now. On the verge of a peaceful slumber, now that I've recapped all the events of tonight in my brain. It really wasn't that exciting, but it was refreshing to go out with Kyle, one of my best friends. I can't remember the last time we've gotten together, just the two of us. I wonder how many sleepovers Stan and Kyle have had. I wonder how many more of them were to come…
---
Kyle goes back today. It's been great having him here this weekend, but I can see that he is ready and almost eager to see Stan. I, myself, am eager to go to work today. I think Bridget is going to pay me a visit. If I'm lucky, I'll get to take her home tonight. If I play my cards right.
"See you, Kenny." Kyle waves a goodbye at me as he walks out of the door and down the outdoor stairs. "Thanks for everything! I'll let you know what happens next week."
I give him the wink and the gun. I don't know why, it just feels right. "You got it," is my response, and I rush inside to prepare for work. All I really have to do is shower and get dressed. I go upstairs and take my T-shirt off. The doorbell, or what's left of it, rings. Ah, who could that be? I hope its not Kyle. I have a severe case of morning wood, and I'm too lazy to put my shirt back on. The doorbell continues to ring as I make my way to the door. I open it, not caring that the cute girl in front of me sees me in my boxers and socks. She is really cute. Who is she?
"Hi, my name is Stacy. I...um...my sister, Andrea, lives right below you," she speaks quietly, with a noticeable accent. Not sure what kind, but not too exotic.
I must be staring at her pretty hard core, because she gets all self-conscious and looks down at the floor, a foot in front of me. She is blushing, from what I can see. Her freckles in her face are uncovered. I decide to relieve the awkward situation, and I scratch the back of my head. I know that my hair is sticking up, and I know it probably is matted down. I haven't showered in three days—the reason I was on my way to do it. I'm a skuzzy dirtball, and she is this petite little girl avoiding my erection to avoid embarrassment. I suddenly feel guilty. She couldn't have been a day over twelve.
"I'm really sorry to bother you. But Andrea is such a dumb blonde that she blew out the pilot light on her oven, and I was wondering if maybe you could help us relight it. You know, without burning the entire place down." She laughs nervously; either at her lame joke or the intense look I have given her. I can't explain it. For some reason, this little girl intrigues me. Not only is she the cutest thing I have ever seen. She is embarrassed to talk to me! I find that adorable.
"Yeah, sure I can help you out," I say, inviting her to come in. She meanders her way into my cluttered and small apartment, taking her place on a kitchen table chair. I hold up my index finger as a sign to 'wait right there', and two minutes later I emerge from my bedroom with a shirt and a pair of worn jeans on. She looks into my eyes for the first time as she gets up off the chair.
"You have amazing eyes," she tells me, and it makes my heart flutter. Never before has anyone ever given me such an innocent, heartfelt compliment without me giving one to her first. "You can tell a lot from a person's eyes," she finishes. She gives me a warm smile and proceeds to walk out. I instantly feel a bit stupid. The only thing I can tell from her eyes is that they are chocolate brown. Which matches her hair, that's pulled up into a loose ponytail. She has a tiny neck, and looks ridiculous in the oversized hoodie she is wearing. Her legs are short and slender, covered by some cotton black shorts. Her toenails are painted a neutral orange color. Her feet are probably the size of my hands.
I guess I can tell a lot from someone's eyes. Or their body. Am I checking this girl out? Shit, there are laws against that.
"You never told me your name." Her voice is so delicate.
"Kenny. Kenny McCormick." I laugh to myself. Girls seem to fall all over how I introduce myself like James Bond. This girl just nods and smiles. Wow.
"Well, Kenny, I'm sorry if you were asleep."
I follow her down the stairs, into her sister's apartment. Her sister, or so I gather, is huddled around the stove, freaking out. She has got to be one of the hottest women I have ever seen in my life. How the fuck haven't I ran into her yet? She doesn't look anything like Stacy. She has the perfect model body, complete with long golden blonde hair and an ass that I can check out freely through her very short shorts. She looks like she is around 6', about twenty-five years old. She rises from her knees and wipes the sweat off her brow with a free hand. She walks over to me and shakes my hand. "Hey Kenny," she says, and I drop my jaw in shock. Fucking amazing!
"Paul told me," she explained. "I've had him come help me a few times. I'm not exactly Miss Fix-It." Her voice is genuine, but there is a touch of shallowness and dumbness. I'm actually more interested in her sister. Oh my God, does that make me a pedophile?
"And Stacy came down from school for a weekend, so when something breaks, I'd think she'd be able to help me. After all, that is your major, dear sister." A hint of hostility shines through her voice, leaving me feeling awkward, but relieved. Stacy is in college. She eyes her sister evilly and smirked, then walks away.
I watch as Andrea eyes me up and down. This is the time where it would have been nice to be in my boxers. She and I could get right down to business. Ha, not with Stacy there. Where was Stacy anyway? "Yeah, I uh…I know some stuff. I'm pretty good with appliances." This much is true. I've always been good with my hands. Mom thinks I should be an electrician or a repairman.
Stacy reappears. "Sister DEAR, my major is engineering. How do you figure that into your dense equation?" Wow.
I watch these girls interact amongst each other, one the most beautiful, the other the most intriguing. I was pretty sure that Andrea wasn't wearing any underwear. And I was pretty sure Stacy had some big boobs for being as small as she was. They satisfy me. I like watching girls, especially girls at work. I am kind of supervising, telling them what step to do next. Stacy has refused to let me do any of the work. But as time moves on, I realize I'm going to be late for work.
"Ladies, can I just do something real quick?" I ask, impatiently.
"Sure," Andrea says. "Whatever," is Stacy's curt reply.
I reach down, and in one swift motion lift the covering and light the stupid pilot light. I feel Andrea watch my in wonder, either at my skill or my charm. I see Stacy breath deeply and cross her arms. I don't know why, but that girl is interesting me more and more. She's not like other girls. She doesn't fall over me and pretend to be a ditz to gain my attention. I want to find out more.
"Thank you so much," she tells me, shaking my hand and pushing me to the doorway. "I think we can take it from here. It was nice to meet you, Kenny."
I feel rushed. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," I complain when she pushes me out the door. "Can you at least walk me back up to my floor?"
"Andrea can do that for you," she replies, cold and dark. Is she jealous that I looked at her sister? I mean, no offense, but who wouldn't? It's not her I want to talk to, though.
"I believe it is proper for the askee to carry out this duty," I explain, in my utmost gentleman vocabulary. And so she walks me up. One flight of stairs, and we are standing on the landing near my front door. "Listen, I have to get ready for work, but I'd really like take you out later. How does 9:00 sound?" This technique has always worked in the past—why does it feel so particularly bold with her?
She lazily rolls her eyes. "I don't think so." She walks me up to my door and turns around to me. "I know your type. I saw you look at my sister. Yeah, I know, who wouldn't?" I smiled at her last statement. She leans in toward me. "Thank you, Kenny, but I shall be going now."
I blink in disbelief. Did I just get turned down? I JUST GOT TURNED DOWN! By some lame twelve-year-old girl that has a supermodel for a sister! Shit, I can't seem to get over it though. Even as I hear her door shut quietly beneath me, I still remain frozen in the very spot that she just left me in. This only means I am going to have to work harder.
---
Stan's POVI can't fucking believe that Kyle just left this weekend. He has become so uncomfortable with me, he won't even tell me when he decides to take a trip home. Of all people, I had to find this out from Cartman.
Oh, GOD, it was a mistake to tell Cartman. He has the power to ruin my life. I don't think my parents would care if they found out, but it would definitely take some adjusting. And I'm not too sure Kyle's mom will be too keen on knowing her son was fucked up on X and made out with his best friend. A boy. Yeah, Stan, you are an IDIOT! I hit myself in the forehead as I near the corner of the kitchen.
Cartman is on the phone in his room, and has been all day. I have nothing better to do, and its Sunday. Remember the guy I said I was going out with last week? His name is Jeremy, and, yes, he is into me. He didn't think I was "that way" and seemed really nervous around me. But when we agreed upon a nicer restaurant for dinner, I don't know, I just guessed. He gave me a kiss goodnight, and I am unsure of how I feel.
I like him. I really do. For what I know of him, I think I shouldn't cut this possible relationship off.
But he's no Kyle.
I fucking miss Kyle so much, it makes my body ache. I have slowly begun to realize what it means to end up eternally alone, and that thought erases every last happy, hopeful, optimistic thought I have and replaces it with utter depression. I love him so much—why can't he see that and feel the same way? I sigh. It will never happen like that. I will never again feel his lips on mine. I will never get to hold him and cherish him. I will never get to hang out with him alone. Hell, I will never be able to hang out with him period. He doesn't even want my friendship. If he did, then he would have made at least some sort of attempt these past few weeks. I mean, it's been…two weeks! Damn…
Now he has run away from me. And I am completely hopeless.
So I am going on yet another date with Jeremy. We set it up for next weekend. Friday, to be exact. This guy really wants to get to know me, I can tell. And I think I want to get to know him too. If I can't ever have the one I want, I better start working on settling for the ones I'm going to get, right? Oh, that's terrible.
I really have transitioned well into this, um, alternative lifestyle. I still have trouble admitting it to myself, but in my experiments, I made out with a really pretty girl at a party last night, and she did nothing for me. I longed for Kyle's touch. Kyle's masculinity.
I have decided that I am going to tell my parents. This next weekend, I will go home and give it to 'em straight. "Mom, Dad, I'm gay," and hope for the best. Dad will probably pull a disappearing act on me too. He's good at handling his emotions like that. Mom loves me, I know this. She is going to support me no matter what decision I have made for myself. She has told me this once before. Sometimes I wonder he she knew already that I felt this way. Some sort of a motherly instinct? Combined with gay-dar.
I need to talk to someone. I really do. Kyle took Kenny away from me, who am I going to talk to about this? There is only one person I can think of. I pull out my cell phone, and whip through the numbers until the end. Wendy. I swiped her number from Cartman's phone one day when I shamefully went through his room looking for anything to be angry about. Would you guess that that tactic did not work too well on calming me down?
I'm not sure what I'm going to say to her. All I can remember is how caring she was when we were together. She had always been a good listener, and I really needed someone to hear me out, without laughing in my face about it. I dial her numbers, and wait for the busy tone to subside. Task one will be to convince her to hang up with Cartman. That might be just about the hardest task I have ever set for myself.
I hear it ringing. A girl's voice picks up on the other end. "Hello?"
I pause, unsure of how to even start. She grows impatient. "HELLO."
"Uh…hi, Wendy."
…
She does not bother to disguise her surprise. "Stan?"
"Yeah, its me."
I hear her sigh. "What do you want, Stan…"
"Please don't hang up on me, Wendy. I know you are on the other line with Cartman, but I really need someone to talk to, and I have no one else to turn to." I hope this desperate attempt will make her feel sorry for me, and possibly work to getting her to hang up with him.
"Are you okay?" she asks, kindheartedly.
"No. Please, Wendy. I wouldn't ask you this if it were anything small. Please." I am practically on my hands and knees.
She sighs again. A moment of silence then a, "hang on." I listen for the line to click over. Three minutes later, I hear it click again.
"Stan what's this all about? I'm not too happy with you right now," she says. And I agree with her.
"Yes, I know. I'm not happy with myself. I should have treated you guys with-"
"Respect? Understanding, maybe," she interjected.
"Okay, okay, yes. I'm admitting my mistake. And I am truly sorry. But I am so completely fucked up right now, you have got to talk some sense into me."
Her voice switched to concern. "What's wrong?" She knows that I didn't usually give up that easily. Something must be wrong, otherwise I would keep arguing. I am too weak to even try.
"Wendy, I don't really know how to say this. I'm going to tell you something, and I don't want to hear your opinion on it, and I don't want to hear an argument about it. I want you to listen to me, and offer me advice if you have any." I feel it best to prompt it this way—less room for error.
"Wendy, I love you."
"Stan-" she starts to interrupt.
"No," I continue, forcefully. "Listen."
Silence.
"Wendy, I love you. Or at least, I know I did. I think that getting over you may been the hardest thing I've had to go through in my life. And I don't think I let you know how wonderful of a woman you are, even before our breakup. I spent some of my happiest days with you, and you made my life complete. I thought we were going to be together forever." I'm not really sure where all of this is heading…I kind have just opened my mouth to speak and all of this started coming out.
"That night at the party, I was devastated. I was frustrated, because knowing you and Cartman were in his bedroom doing stuff that we've done before…well, I couldn't handle it. And I'm really sorry for hurting any relationship I have left with you. But I think I get it now. And I'm happy for you. For you and Cartman. You two are great together, and it took me a night of complete self-realization to figure this out. I know now that I was putting up a front with my feelings for you. Now that I look at it, it's not that hard to get over you. I just made it that way, because I didn't know what I know now."
"Which is?"
"Wendy, I'm in love with someone else." I say it blunt and to the point. I just can't seem to say the name 'Kyle' in with it. What is holding me back?
"You are in love with someone else," she says, more like a statement rather than a question. She sounds almost perturbed. "Stan, you can't confuse random make out girls with love. They've got to MEAN something to you. If this is another attempt to get me ba-"
I stop her right there. "Wendy, I'm in love with Kyle."
She doesn't say anything. I continue. "I have been, for a really long time now. It's hard to explain, but I know its true. And for some unknown reason, I found this all out the night of that party."
Continued silence on the other end.
"I kissed him. I kissed Kyle, and I liked it."
I can feel her presence looming over the telephone line. I can hear her almost growling. Is she mad?
"You love Kyle?" she finally speaks. "No wait. You're in love with Kyle? Stan, how can that even begin to be true? You aren't g…" She trails off.
"But you see, I am."
"You can't be. You were with me. We made love. How can that happen if you don't even like girls? If you don't like me?" She sounds heartbroken, and I realize this was probably not the best way to go about it. I needed closure from our relationship, though, and I am feeling up to this challenge.
"I like you plenty. I told you, I still love you. But its Kyle I want to be with." I take a deep breath. "And Wendy, he doesn't want to be with me."
She laughs the most awkward, nervous laugh I have ever heard anyone laugh. "Holy shit, Stan. Why the fuck are you telling me all of this?"
I pull back, hurt. I was hoping that she, of all people, would understand. You can't help how you feel. "I'm telling you this because I need someone to talk to me! Tell me how to deal! Tell me what to do now." She was good at that when we were together.
"You want me to tell you how to seduce Kyle into being with you? And why would you expect me to do something like that?" Her anger is full force now, and I'm finding this hard to believe. "Stan, you were MY boyfriend, and you loved ME. You didn't love your drug-dependant loser of a friend Kyle. When we were together, you were thinking of ME."
I blink my eyes several times. Wendy can be a real monster if she wants to be. "This has nothing to do with you and me, Wendy. What's happened in the past stays in the past. I just need some help."
"Oh ho! You certainly do, Stanley Marsh." I fucking hate it when she calls me by my name. Why is she being this bitchy? She couldn't be jealous…could she?
"I'm calling back Eric, you and I are finished talking." Her words pierce through me like a sword. She is shutting me up before I have even unloaded. I am going to explode if I can't find someone to talk to!
"Wendy, please. You are being ridiculous! You and I both kn-"
Click.
Silence. Dial tone. THAT BITCH HUNG UP ON ME! I redial, furiously, this time not in as good of mood to chat. This time, I'm going in to give her a piece of my mind. Something I should have done a LONG time ago. She knows this, which is why she isn't answering. Stupid bitch.
I slam down the phone angrily, and try to figure out what to do next.
---
Cartman's POV"Hello?" I answer in question, already knowing its Wendy. "Do you mind telling me what that was all about?"
I hear her pant on the other end. Something is wrong. She told me she had to take a phone call that interrupted us. I didn't question at the time and let her do her own thing. I hope it wasn't someone to upset her. I didn't want to see my dear Wendy upset.
"I'm fine," she says, between gritting her teeth and muttered breath. Now I know she doesn't think I'm going to leave it at that.
"No, you aren't, honey. Who was that?" I poke and prod until I think she is going to tear me apart.
"It was nobody. Just some jerk that's playing a trick on me," she explains finally, managing to calm her nerves a bit.
"Want me to kick him in the nuts?" I ask half-serious. I'd do it for her in a heart beat if she asked me to.
"No, he can't help his own stupidity. He's just an asshole who is trying to win me over by telling me some far-fetched lie."
This angers me. How DARE someone try to take her away from me? I know that having an incredibly gorgeous girlfriend is going to put me in positions I'd rather not be in—such as the jealous boyfriend—but no jerk wad will ever lay a finger on MY Wendy. "Let me at him, I'll mess him up good," I fire back.
Its strange, but she is laughing now. Laughing at what I said?
"Oh Eric, you are so adorably clueless."
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
"Aye!" I catch myself yelling, offended. I don't care if the word adorable WAS in that sentence…clueless is not a compliment. I don't want to hear anything about me from her unless it's a compliment. "Just tell me who the fucker is, and I'll kick his ass when I get there." By there, I am referring to the fact that I am indeed visiting her at Stanford next weekend. I know it will only have been three weeks, but you'd want to be with her every waking second of the day if you were me too.
Finally she stops laughing. "Its not someone you need to meet. You already know him."
Once again, Wendy's vagueness confuses me, and I am almost ready to give up on this conversation when…
"You live with the ass."
STAN? I thought he liked Kyle! Hahaha, oh…
OOOH! That bastard lied to me! He tried to get on my good side so he could talk to Wendy! What a backstabbing cocksucker. I can't believe that Stan would sink so low. I knew he didn't like us together, but damn! This is immature even for him. Although I must admit deliciously scheming. I always had an eye for schemes. Wait. No. Bad. BAD Stan.
"What the fuck did STAN tell you?" I roar. Now, it's my business.
She starts laughing again. It makes me uncomfortable.
"He…haha…he told me…AAAAAAAH I'm so frustrated!"
"What!" I want to know!
"He. Oh MY GOD, Eric! He told me the most ridiculous lie conceivable to man!" She really has a knack for building things up.
"WHAT!"
"He told me," and her laughter dies down long enough for her to continue, "he likes Kyle." A second wave of laughter consumes my ear, this one more forced and overdramatic. I chuckle myself.
"Heh, Wendy. I hate to tell you. Actually, I LOVE to tell you this, but," I pause, anticipating her response, which was going to be hilarious! "But, yeah. Its true."
Silence. Maybe she didn't hear me right. I'll say it again.
"Stan does, in fact, like Kyle. He told me himself."
I hear her growl, and I can feel her eyes narrow. Was she really mad? Why would she be mad? She didn't like him anymore, did she?
"Sweetie," I say pleasantly. "You aren't angry about this, are you?" You better not be! I want to tell her.
"Stan likes that pot-smoking, red headed, skinny little bookworm?" Whoa, she IS mad! Why the hell is she mad? She broke up with HIM, not the other way around. No time for jealousy, Wendy. I am your current boyfriend. Remember that.
"Yeah, they made out at the party." I say this casually, and I start to realize how natural it sounds to me. Those two fags actually belong together. They are a perfect match. And that disgusts me.
"THEY MADE OUT! WHAT THE HELL WERE THEY DOING MAKING OUT?" She screeches in my ear, and I hold the phone about six inches away from my ear. She is starting to piss me off. Why is she reacting this way? Its not like they are together. We are together. We are happy. We are fucking happy!
"God, Wendy. Jealous much?" Oh, I can hear her fuming now.
"I AM NOT JEAAAALLLOUS!" she screams, and it reminds me of the time she blew up at us when that substitute teacher Miss Ellen liked Stan. Ha, I know what a lesbian is now. I think she's flown off the deep end once more, and I wish so badly that I could be there to comfort her. But I am here. So all I do is scream right back.
"You are! Why the hell would you be jealous of Jewboy? Stan isn't your boyfriend anymore, REMEMBER?" I say, emphasizing the word 'remember'. Isn't it like a rule that you don't openly get jealous about your ex's new love when you are talking to your current boyfriend? I thought so.
That shuts her up. She realizes that she is being thoughtless. "It just doesn't make any sense. When he and I were together, he was all about the girl, if you know what I mean." Yes, I know what you mean, and no, I don't like having this mental image of you two in my head. "Why would he just switch like that?"
For being such an intelligent woman, she sure was stupid. I sighed. "Stan didn't switch. He's always been. He just never realized it until sometime during the party." I can't believe I'm defending that asshole. You'd think I'm trying to be a nice guy to him now. Entirely not true. I just hate that Wendy is mad at something that she shouldn't be mad at. She has no right. He's not her concern now. I am. And I am pissed.
"Whatever. The poor boy realized he couldn't have any better of a woman than me, so he decided to try out the other side of the rainbow." I laughed to myself. Whatever makes you feel better, my dear. If she doesn't drop this soon, I'm done talking to her for the day.
Another ten minutes of this shit has gone by. Am I really sitting here and listening to her vent about Stan's new interest? I don't need this!
"Wendy, I'm getting off the phone now," I say in between her rants. I doubt she even heard me. "Have a good night. I love you. Sleep well." And I hang up. She was still talking—I am going to hear about this tomorrow. What the hell did I do wrong? She better be in the mood to apologize when I come to see her. I sigh, put my phone on the floor, and stare at the ceiling. Stan and Kyle. Definitely the biggest news to hit my fragile little mind. Yet it doesn't bother me. I'm not even fazed.
Maybe I'm turning into a pussy.