Authors Note: Once again, thank you. XD You know, if anyone ever wants to chat or whatever, feel free. I don't bite. :P I know you guys like this chapter; so how bout them reviews this time around? You know you wanna.
Chapter 5- Invisible Cricket:
The orange rays of the late sun peaked through the side of the curtains, casting an oddly shaped spot of light on the carpet. It sort of resembled a duck, if the duck had a broken wing and a retarded frog on its head. His eyes were drawn to it, held prisoner on its brightness although he wasn't even seeing it at all. His mind had wandered to a distant place, creating a blank expression on his soft features.
His best friend resided in front of the couch, lain out on his stomach with his legs bent upward. His hands clutched each side of the script set before him as he continued to read the lines out loud, oblivious to the fact that he was the only one listening to himself.
"…For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."
Silence.
"And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." Kyle repeated, keeping his eyes on the script. His lips drew into a thin line as he was greeted once again by the irritating sound of nothing. His legs hit the ground with a thud and he focused up on Stan's zombie-like stare. "Stan!"
He jumped, slammed immediately back down to reality.
"That's your line."
"What line?" He blinked.
Kyle let out a slow hiss of breath. "Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? That's your line, Romeo."
Stan glanced down at the piece of paper on his lap. "Oh."
"Oh?" Kyle repeated. He pushed himself upward. "I'm taking my time to help you, and you aren't even trying! You're the one who's been out sick for two weeks and needs extra practice, not me. I know all my lines, all yours and all Wendy's. Tell me, have you memorized any?"
Stan blinked again, eyes still unfocused. The paper seemed to stare back at him mockingly, but he didn't even glance at it. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this; My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."
Stan's blank stare never wavered, even as a smile crept up Kyle's face. "So, you were listening."
Eyes glazed, his head shook slowly. "No."
Kyle frowned. "Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? You're acting like a zombie. Snap out of it."
Stan swallowed, shook his head as if to clear it. "I was just thinking… of…" He swallowed a second time. "Do you think what Cartman said actually meant anything?"
"Nothing Cartman says means anything." Kyle didn't hesitate to reply. "No, no. I take that back. It means he's a dumbass."
"But what if-"
"I really do want to give you a blowjob?" Kyle finished, one eyebrow raised. He shrugged. "So, what if I did?"
Stan's eyes widened, to which Kyle couldn't help but laugh. "Even if I did, I wouldn't try anything."
"Do you?"
Kyle smirked. "Do you want me to?"
Stan grunted, eyes narrowing in annoyance. He knew that smirk. He wasn't taking this seriously at all. "Kyle, I mean it. Everything he's said so far has actually happened."
"Why are you letting this bother you?" His tone was a mixture of demand, patience, and frustration as he slapped his hands down onto the script.
"Why isn't it bother you?" Stan questioned back. "You're the one who's always pissed at what Cartman has to say."
"Yeah, because I think he's a douche, not because I believe what he's saying." His voice softened when he realized this was bugging Stan more than it should. "Look, if I suddenly get the urge to rip off your pants and suck you dry, I'll let you know and we can figure out what to do about it. Until then, fuck it, dude, because Cartman's full of shit and it probably wont happen. Now, we really should get back to work."
Stan glanced downward, suddenly finding his fingers immensely interesting. Maybe Kyle was right. It wouldn't be the first time, after all. Kyle was way smarter than Cartman, not only in book sense, but also common sense. Still, something about it kept gnawing at him. What if they ever did develop those sort of feelings for each other? It could totally destroy their friendship. He should be glad him and Kyle didn't have that problem, and he was. But, something still ate at him.
"… That part is a little trickier than most, so we should go over that one more time." Kyle was still babbling on.
"What part?" Stan questioned, still gazing at his fingertips.
Kyle glanced at his friend again, taking in his solemn expression and the worry lines between his brows. He didn't understand why, of all things, Stan was letting this bother him. They both knew there wasn't anything between them. They both knew Cartman's words were spoken out of spite. Yet still he seemed disturbed at the words. Kyle sighed, glanced at the script, the clock, then his friend. There was only one way to cure the tension; lighten it with a joke.
"Okay, Stan," Kyle clamped his script inside an English text book.
"Okay, what?"
"I'm going to prove to you that Cartman's predictions are bullshit." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tube of chap stick his mother insisted he take because of the dry weather. He never planned on using it, but it seemed like a nice touch to play out.
"How?" Stan failed miserably to keep the panic out of his voice as he watched Kyle apply the lip ointment thickly and sloppily.
He smiled brightly, snapped on the cap and threw it to the side as he advanced mischievously toward Stan.
"Kyle, why are you looking at me that way?" He asked frantically, pressing himself against the cushions of the couch. "Kyle?"
Kyle slapped his hands lightly onto Stan's thighs and leaned forward. "I'm going to kiss you. So pucker up, Romeo."
That was all it took. He never even felt the bile rise within his throat. All either of them knew was that a second later, a burst of puke emerged from Stan and exploded all over Kyle.
"Ah, sick, Dude! Sick!" Kyle wailed and immediately ran for the upstairs bathroom, screaming that barf was gross the whole way up.
Stan remained on the couch, mouth agape, paralyzed at the events that had just unfolded. His stomach was still a flutter, twisting and turning as his heart slammed against his ribs like a maniac in a padded cell.
Thwack! Thwak! Thwak!
It beat so hard he could hear it in his ears and feel his pulse points throbbing. What the hell just happened? Well, that was a stupid fucking question if there ever was one. He knew what happened. Kyle was about to kiss him and he puked liked an idiot. He felt his heart plummet again as Kyle's words swirled his head.
I'm going to kiss you.
He shivered violently. If Cartman was purposely trying to make him delusional, he deserved a gold medal, because it sure as hell was working.
"Stan, I'm borrowing a shirt!" Kyle shouted from upstairs.
Stan gazed up at the ceiling, as if he could see Kyle though it, just as the doorbell sounded. His line of vision shifted toward the door before making any attempt at answering it. With a bit of reluctance, he ran a hand through his hair, knocking off his hat and messing up the dark tresses before opening the door to face the annoying person taking full advantage of his doorbell rights.
"Oh… Hi, Stan."
Stan glowered. "What the hell are you doing here?" His eyes narrowed further as the visitor began his irritating knuckle-clanking habit.
"I just wanted to make sure you weren't mad at me, auh-about yesterday."
"You mean when you hugged me and told me you liked me?" Stan asked dryly.
Butters slipped his hands behind his back and began rocking on his shoes. "Well, yeah. I didn't mean to scare you or nuthin."
"Why'd you do it, Butters?" He demanded. "Why'd you have to unleash your gaydom on me?"
The shorter boy's eyes glanced around, a telltale sign his anxiety was increasing. "I… I just wanted you to know-"
"Maybe I didn't want to know." Stan snapped. He was being an asshole, and he knew it. But at the moment his mind was too mixed-up to care. He knew he would feel bad about this later on and end up calling to apologize. Even still, he couldn't stop himself. "Don't hug me again, Butters. I don't care if you're gay, just don't be gay near me."
He looked like he could cry at any given moment by this point, but his eyes remained miraculously dry. "I thought that… heck, Kyle hugged you, a-and-"
"Kyle's different."
Butters looked up from his stare on the carpet with a heartbreaking expression. His lower lip quivered slightly as he spoke. "Is he your boyfriend?"
"What?"
"Stan," Kyle shouted, blindly making his way down the stairs as he tried to pull one of Stan's shirts over his head. "Since your bodily fluids dripped off my chin and all over my pants like a waterfall, I'm wearing a pair of yours." He pulled the end of the sweater and let his head pop through. "Hey, Butters."
Stan slapped his hand against his forehead and squeezed his eyes closed as Butters eyes widened.
"What?" Kyle asked. "What'd I say?"
Butter's turned, giving one last glance at Stan's messy hair before walking away, hands in pockets and head hung low.
Stan, still covering his eyes, closed the door and faced Kyle. "Dude," He stressed, and looked up at his friend. "That sounded so wrong."
They stared at one another as the seconds ticked by, and finally began laughing.
"Maybe Butters will leave you alone now that he thinks we're screwing each other." Kyle mused humorously.
Stan paused. "Wait, what if he's a spy for Cartman?"
Kyle waved his hand in dismissal. "Look on the bright side. If lard boy does find out, he'll die. Maybe out of laughter, maybe out of shock, but he'll die."
Stan chuckled at the thought, suddenly feeling more at ease from earlier.
"Want to practice some more lines, or do you think you got it?"
"I'm burnt out on Shakespeare." Stan whined.
"You sure? We go on tomorrow night."
"Positive."
"Okay." Kyle confirmed, and began gathering his notes, book and script. "You can have your clothes back when I get mine back. They're upstairs."
"Keep it, looks good on you."
Kyle hesitated in the doorway, an unfamiliar sensation consuming his stomach as he took in Stan's perfect, Crest toothpaste smile. He shook his head and blinked heavily. "See you tomorrow."
His shoes crunched in the snow as he walked away, not even thinking about where he was going. It was funny, really, the way there was a path of shoe-imprinted snow linking his house and Stan's. They went back and forth between the two houses so often that the snow never got the chance to cover the trail.
He hugged himself against the chill of the evening beginning to set in, and smiled as a puff of air rose from the material of his shirt. It smelled like Stan. He smelled like Stan. The thought filled him with a warmth that oddly enough made him shudder.
"What are you so happy about? Get laid?"
Kyle glanced upward in time to see Kenny fall into step beside him. Realizing he was still grinning like a reject, he immediately relaxed his face, but unconsciously hugged himself tighter.
Kenny shot out another question, not even giving Kyle the chance to answer the first. "Isn't that Stan's sweater?" His furrowed eyebrows shot up suddenly. "Shit, dude! You did get laid!"
"No, no!" Kyle denied, waving his hands as if it could help prove his innocence.
"Don't be embarrassed, Kyle. If I were you, I'd parade around in an 'I fucked Stan' T-shirt!" Kenny exclaimed. "You lucky son of a bitch."
Kyle choked on a laugh, though he quickly regained his composure. "That's just it. I didn't fuck Stan."
"But you sucked him."
"No."
"He sucked you?"
"No, Kenny."
"Oh, manual stimulation."
"Kenny!"
His eyes squinted into lemon shapes, indicating his smile hidden beneath the parka. "I'm warning you now, Kyle. If you don't screw him, I will." He paused a moment. "I probably will anyway-"
"You're not joking when you flirt with him, are you?"
"Hell no!"
Kyle shook his head. "I just don't understand you."
"I don't understand you." Kenny threw back. "Just look at him, he's all… look at him. Really, not as your best friend. Then tell me you don't understand."
"I'm just not that way-"
Kenny cut him off with a snort. "There's no such thing as that way. You don't have to be into pink and fruit loops to get a boner over another guy. You don't even have to be bi to get hard over another guy. You may not be gay, Kyle, but you love Stan. You love him so much he would make you hard if you only let him."
"Is that you trying to be touching and beautiful?" Kyle asked skeptically.
Kenny shook his head, causing blonde bangs to fall across sky blue eyes. "Nuh uh. That's me telling you that you're a fuckin' dumbshit for not figuring this out on your own."
"I told you, it's just not that way with us."
"Just keep telling yourself that." Kenny spoke beneath his breath.
The image of Stan's commercial worthy smile flashed across his mind, bringing about the return of the unfamiliar feeling in his stomach. Not bad exactly, just… different. He glanced at Kenny again, suspicion settling in. "You've been talking to Cartman, haven't you?"
Kenny was silent a moment, watching the tree's as they passed. "Cartman's smart when it comes to figuring people out."
Kyle scoffed, angrily kicking a mound of snow. "No, but he's a mastermind at manipulation."
"You still haven't told me why you're in Stan's clothes." Kenny pointed out.
Kyle glanced down at his attire and smiled again. "Oh, Stan barfed on me when I tried to kiss him." He stiffened, realizing a moment too late that he had just screwed himself.
Kenny was now chuckling. "Not that way, huh?"
Kyle scowled. "Kenny, go fuck yourself." He spat as they came up to his yard.
"You know, I just might do that." He announced, not at all ashamed or put off. "Like you aren't yummy in my tummy, delicious enough, we had to talk about Stan and sex."
"Just leave now!" Kyle shouted, pointing far away.
Kenny laughed as he walked away, fueling Kyle's anger. He could feel his cheeks hot with scarlet coloring, and he didn't even know why. Feeling guilty somehow, he decided against going in and facing his mother, and instead opted to sit on the pouch, hanging his head between his knees.
Looks good on you.
A smile returned when he thought of Stan's earlier words. His heart stalled when he realized something; He was still hugging himself.
He wasn't cold.
He wasn't hugging himself for the warmth, he was hugging the sweater.
"Well, if it isn't a blushing, Jewish fag." Cartman stopped on his way passed. "In…" His smirk fell. "Stan's clothes." He blinked his wide, round eyes several times. "What the hell?"
Kyle resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I fucked him."
"What?"
"You heard me, fat ass, I fucked Stan." He announced, hoping to God his mother couldn't hear him. "He gave me his sweater to remind me of him, because I didn't want to leave."
Silence followed, and Kyle swore he could hear a cricket somewhere in the distance. You could always hear a cricket if things got too quiet too fast. It was some sort of unwritten law. But, the imaginary cricket was hushed by Cartman's outburst of mocking laughter.
"You did not!"
Kyle grit his teeth and slammed his fists onto his knees. "What's it going to take to make you shut the hell up, Cartman? What? I deny that there's something between me and Stan, and you don't believe me. I tell you there is, and you still don't believe me!"
"That's because you are a Jew, and Jews are liars and schemers." He ignored the extremely pissed growl directed at him and went on. "You and Stan will never get that far. I know you're lying to me, because I am a psychic. I see all, I know all."
"Then how come you don't know what I'm about to do?"
He frowned curiously. "What are you about to do?"
Kyle's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits and with lightening speed, slammed his fist into Cartman's face.
-BratChild3)I miss being BC2 (
