Chapter 9
Left Wondering Why

Stan spent the whole week avoiding Tweek. Everytime he saw him felt sick inside. Felt as if someone was sticking a searing poker right into his gut. Was he feeling guilt? Stan hated to think that he was feeling guilt right now, and besides why would he be? He wasn't really taking advantage if Tweek, he wanted it.

Still, Stan couldn't push that feeling away. When Tweek didn't even bother to return the small, insignificant hug it made Stan feel useless and unwanted. Why does it matter? He asked himself as he stared at his test paper.

He couldn't believe that he of all people would be feeling guilt for- for what? He would always interrupt himself before he could finish the sentence of why he was guilty. He tapped the pencil on the desk over and over again, trying to figure out his stand on Free Health care vs. Two-Teir System. Of course he leaned against the Free Health care because paying for you health was an idiotic and pathetic way to run a society.

That wasn't the point- or so he kept reminding himself. The point was he wasn't able to focus because Tweek was always in his thought tugging and pulling on his brain.

Stan sighed loudly and scribbled down an answer that was only remotely true to what he felt. The bell rang and he slammed his pencil down on the desk, flipped his test over and left the room.

Sickness washed over him and he could barely think straight. He was angry, but he didn't show it. He just stared straight ahead, cursing that it was a day 1. He had gym next with Tweek.

Tweek hated the class, but every year he was forced to take it from the physicists. They insisted that it was a good healthy move to be active, especially with his "condition". But Tweek hated it. He sucked in every sport and he often spent more time catching the ball with his face or on the ground.

I will be ignored
I will be denied
And I could be erased
I could brushed aside
And I will get scared
And I will shut down
But I feel like
I do Because you push me around

Tweek wasn't there- in fact- Tweek wasn't in any of his classes- and he wasn't at his locker at lunch. Stan became frantic. Where the hell way he? By the end of the day he was a nervous wreck and anything made him jump. He hated to think that maybe Tweek was done with him. Maybe Tweek found someone else?

Stan ran up to his locker. He looked at his lock and forgot his combo. He racked his brain restlessly but the only thing that entered his mind were the eyes of Tweek, stupid and saddened. It was as if they were judging his brain.

He swallowed hard and became slightly paranoid as if someone was watching him. Stan shook his head and rattled around the passive thoughts and soon remembered his combination. He turned the dial, 6- 56- 26, such an easy combination that he was ashamed of forgetting it.

He grabbed his textbooks and closed his lockers.

"Hey…" Came a voice as he closed his locker door.

"Jes- Holy shit." He screamed as his books fell to the floor. He leaned against his closed locker for support, breathing rather loudly.

"What? You're nervous today- I've been trying to get your attention for ever…" Kyle said as he gabbed his book off the floor. "Are you ok?"

"Fine" Stan told him, still feeling ill.

"What are you doing tonight?"

"I don't know-" he shook his head trying to make the anxiety leave. "Dude, it's Thursday."

"Since when do you care what day of the week it is?" Kyle asked, as he started walked beside the dazed Stan.

He wrinkled his nose and peered at Stan through worried eyes. "What aren't you telling me? You've been avoiding me all week you know…"

"Does it really matter? I've been busy…" Stan squeezed though a tiny gap of the door, not holding it open for Kyle.

"Is it Emily? I noticed that she's been hanging around that new kid a lot- did you get dumped…"

Stan stopped. Did he? "I don't know" he replied looking at his feet. His conscious was eating away at him and those piercing eyes would not stop judging him.

"Do you need to talk about it? I don't think I've seen you get dumped since Wendy…" Stan's unease became more apparent with every word that left Kyle's helping mouth.

"What about her… it's her?"

"What- are you talking about? Do you want me to take you home?" Kyle looked at his friend. His eyes were wide, his skin was pale and it seemed that madness was taking its toll on him.

His mouth was dry. "Yeah…" he muttered, eyes like saucers staring fixedly at everything as if something would attack him.

"Ok…let's go" Kyle eyed his friend, making sure he wasn't going to go haywire on him.

Kyle led him out the car and helped him in the passenger side without a word. Stan buckled his seatbelt and looked out the window with fearful eyes. Every so often Kyle would glance at Stan, wondering what made him go so blank in seconds.

He wasn't moving, just laying his head on the cool window watching the scenery as Kyle drove him home. Stan jumped in his seat and turned almost all the way around which cause Kyle to swerve from fright.

"What?"

"Nothing…" Stan lied as he watched a faded Tweek walking home vanish out of site.

The next ten minutes were silent. The buzzing of the car became so annoying that Stan felt his brain melting out of his head. He was almost too ecstatic when the car stopping in front of his house. He mumbled his thanks to Kyle and slammed the door shut before he could get an answer.

Stan slammed his door and ran upstairs, completely shunning his parents. He closed and locked his door, wandering fretfully walking over to his mirror. He examined himself. His white skin, his clammy hands, the dry mouth, he thought that he even felt sick.

He let himself fall onto the floor and lay there for quite some time. "What--- did he do? What did I do to myself?" he thought, his breathing increasing. He felt tears pressing against his eyes but he would not let them pass.

"I'm over this…I'm over this…" He told himself rapidly. His face was pressing against the soft carpet body was motionless. "I'm over her…and I'm over him…and I'm over this…I've been through this…" His tone was cracked and beginning to get louder.

His breaths were jagged and harsh in his lungs. He felt the burning sensation brought on by holding back tears but he still refused to cry. "He rejected me," he told himself silently. "Just like…- no… I didn't want this to happen…" he bit his lip hard and curled his legs up closer to his chest. He felt small and helpless- nothing like a football player should.

Hey you, I'm making an offer that
No one could ever refuse
Don't play the adamant
Don't be so arrogant
Can't you see I'm falling for you?

Stan had pushed his memories of Wendy so far back that he rarely thought of it. But the actions of Tweek, or lack there of, but especially Kyle this afternoon. The last thing he needed was his best friend making him remember the worst part of his life. Sure he had "moved on" but he couldn't help but being fixated on his first crush.

No one really gets over their first crush and even though he was "over" her, he wasn't over what had happened. As much as Stan denied it, the only thing he could think about was if he even started anything with Tweek it would end in a spiral of indisputably ill disaster.

This thought made him shudder. He rose from the floor and busied himself with homework that he really didn't have. "Tweek…" He warned his brain as he pieced together images of the boy. "All I need is for him to became familiar with my head!" he hadn't realized when he started to gnaw at his pencil. "Damn it…" he cursed.

He spun around to grab another pencil from his night table. He brushed his hand alongside the phone and paused. "It's called a little self control," he breathed. "I just need to sort these things out on my own-" he lowered his hand so that it rested uneasily on the phone. "Or just give him a call- and see what he's up to- maybe meet him outside- and talk- about something…" Stan closed his eyes painfully.

"Why?" he asked himself desperately. "Why Tweek? What's so special about TWEEK? I mean why not Kyle? Why don't I have feelings for Kyle?" That was merely a stupid question… he answered himself in a demeaning tone fit for any cynical person. He picked up the receiver and wiggled his fingers over the buttons in an apprehensive manner.

"Well shit…" He muttered to himself. "I don't even know his number." He placed it back down.

Why call him? His conscious asked. He won't even pick up- he's more in control then you ever were… look at yourself…you're worthless. I hardly feel sorry for you-

Stan violently shook his head and slammed his fists down on the table. His hands ached and his head throbbed. He needed to talk to Tweek he needed to.

Drift madly to you, pollute my heart drain
You have broken at me, broken me
All your mental armor drags me down
We can't breathe when you come around
All your mental armor drags me down
Nothing hurts like your mouth

But what if he did reject him? What if he was being serious? His mind spoke for him again. It lingered and roamed freely like the wind through sheets.

Of course he's going to reject you. I can't see why anyone wouldn't; you have used so many people. But he's different isn't he? He can stand up to you and you're afraid.

"Stop it" he yelled quite loudly, enough to create suspicion. "I don't want to hear it… I'm not afraid" he fought back angrily, clamping his hands on the back of his neck. "I need Tweek to- I need Tweek to understand- something's…"

What? That you're afraid of commitment? That you only want to be friends so you can use him to your advantage, so that you can break things off easier? Isn't that what you did to Emily? And Sarah and Natalie…and Natasha… I can continue…

Stan's mind kept taunting him. "Like that was the worst thing I've ever done" He spoke in an unsteady voice. "But this is different…"

I see… and how would that be?

"Just because I used those stupid girls doesn't mean that I don't want to be serious now- I'm just-" Stan was beginning to get very irritated with his conscious. It was spitting out crude comments and they were sticking to the inside of his skull, similar to wet Kleenex on the skin.

Afraid- the voice mocked. You're scared of commitment, of trusting anyone because of some stupid incident years and years and YEARS ago…just let it pass and move on in your life.

"SHUT UP!" Stan yelled insanely and stood, pushing his chair to the ground and the voice ceased. Stan's breath was hard and labored. He tore out of his room and headed downstairs in a quickened pace. His lungs burned and ached with uncertainly and sadness.

"I'm taking the car." He shouted at his mother and before she could finish he protest Stan was already backing out of the driveway.

Hey should I finish this? Joke! Review or else…or else what? Exactly… seriously… review… it would mean a tones of a lotness! BMB