Title – The Colour of My Bruises Are?
Summary – Kip's rather sudden reappearance in South Park starts a wave of unsettling events for Kenny and Kyle. Kyle tries not to let his superstitions get to him, but Kip's foreboding aura perhaps isn't bizarre, but potentially more uncanny and threatening then firstly assumed. K2. One sided! Kip x Kyle.
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Chapter One – Nostalgic Orange.
The echo of sirens blur into the high whine of a blistering white noise that penetrates and deafens Kyle's hearing, leaving him heedless to the yowls of those around him. A blistering, unbearable pain blossoms with the noise that lives him spinning, jarring.
He feels the bullet nestled within him, snuggled in a cocoon of his flesh. It hums and pulses, sizzling as it loses momentum. He's not sure if it's the pain or adrenaline that catches him first. But once his mind has finally caught up to his pain and horror; he screeches. His body tries to curl as he spasms. The unbelievable urge to vomit and cry are excruciating and Kyle wonders for a passing moment which one he'll excrete first.
Kenny gapes at him with his wide, wounded puppy eyes, terrified and astonished, his hands quivering. He's crying too. Kyle quakes; feeble and restrained. His hands tremble too; ensnared firmly behind him, frantic and desperate to grasp at the wound and envelop his fingers over it. He wails, his body shivering at the sudden temperature drop. Kenny presses himself into Kyle limply, huffing broken words into his skin.
It's easily drowned out by a similar wail that resonates around them, yet softer and more merciless. It's mixed with a sadistic laughter which hits Kyle deeper than the bullet.
Kyle begins to lose concept and meanings. Everything's beginning to blur, and nothing is making sense. What colour are his eyes? When's his brother's birthday? What's Kenny's middle name? The white noise intensifies with the merciless hummer. A frenzy of movement occurs around him; everything blurs into a stable white noise. He feels himself falling, sinking, everything begins to fade, and all Kyle wants to do is sleep.
Rest.
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The snow falls in thick, luscious clumps that catch and accumulate in the fringe of Kyle's exposed hair and on the fabric of his clothes. The snow dances as it descends, fluttering slantwise thanks to the gentle gush of thin mountain wind, that leaves Kyle feeling breathless. He struggles to bring a gloved hand up to his scarf under the heavy layering of clothing and brush off the opposing snowflakes which have gathered there. He huffs as he does so, his feet dragging as he enters the library. He spends a moment gently scrapping the snow from himself and stomping the clumps of compressed clumps from his shoes. He hums slightly to himself as he does so, sniffing against his cold, runny nose; enjoying the sudden flux of warmth from the building.
Once inside, he hangs his coat and scarf on one of the provided coat hangers neighbouring the entrance. His fingers trail along the spines of books as he circles the fiction area, eyeing the tattered books with a deep interest. He delicately prizes them from their hold within the bookshelf to read the blurb, turning them several times in his hands, inspecting them. He does this with many he's intrigued by, running his fingers along the front cover, sometimes opening the book and reading the first paragraph. He catches himself eyeing a few war time books and shakes his head to himself, he can barely think about WW2 after finding out about his Father's Grandmother being in the Holocaust, let alone read a story about it.
To his side, a few paces away stands another man that looks roughly Kyle's age. He too is inspecting the sizable collection of books the library offers, holding a book with gangly fingers, flicking through the first few pages. Kyle ponders who he is, there's something about his brunet, shoulder length hair that holds an undefined, frizzy curl and buckled teeth that catch Kyle like a wave of nameless and indefinite nostalgia.
There's something about him that keeps Kyle stomach in knots; there is a cold, foreboding feeling about this that fills his veins with a poisonous liquid that threatens unearth the content out of Kyle and replace it with unrest. And, although Kyle can't place where it's coming from, his anxieties flare and his skin prickles when he notices the other glancing at him from the corner of his eye. Shifting in place watching through his hair as Kyle walk away from their isle. South Park as small as it is, everyone knows each other, or at least knows of each other and Kyle cannot place this figure. He tries to think that this is the reason for his apprehension, but he can't help but wonder if it's something more. It's easy to brush it off on unfamiliarity, so Kyle does – returning his attention to the vast range of books tangible at his touch. He's caught up in perusing the isles that it's easy to ignore how this unrememberable, jejune man is following him around like a shadow.
He replaces the book he's holding with a quiet sigh; he feels like he is working himself up over something insignificant, yet he can't help but steal a glance at the stranger next to him only to confirm that he is starring at Kyle again past his long wavy locks.
"Do I know you?" Kyle asks suddenly, hoping that this bizarre unrest will settle and calm once he knows who the stranger is. His words come of sounding more apathetic and ruder than he had anticipated. He watches the other flinch at the violation of words and look at Kyle with unease. He has a face that states 'Who? Me?' as he looks at Kyle with wide brown eyes.
"Uh," He starts, nodding slowly as if he's turning the words over in his head, inspecting them for a deeper meaning. "Y-yeah, I'm Kip." He says his own name like he's not certain of it and although the name rings a bell, Kyle still can't place his relation with this boy, "Drordy." He adds. "Y-you were my first friend."
Everything connects and Kyle realises that this is the third grader who didn't have any friends on Facebook and Kyle took pity and added him. "I thought so," Kyle says although he didn't. He's never met Kip in person – he only ever skimmed through his Facebook photos once – yet he is overwhelmed by Kip's height and size. He is slightly overweight and pudgy, and he seems to grow taller the more you looked to him. He has round, reddened cheeks that droop at the sides of his chin, pulling his mouth downwards and making him look both dopey and emotionless.
Kip rubs the back of his neck and smiles nervously, "Yeah, I left South Park for a while – I just came back the other month actually." He mentions, as if this new source of information will help Kyle build his memory on the boy (not that there's a lot to remember).
"Ah, OK. Well, good seeing you." Kyle replies, turning back to the bookshelf and inspecting 'The Lord of The Rings' trilogy, he picks up 'The fellowship of The Ring', he hasn't read the book in years and if he reads them quickly enough, he could convince Kenny to rewatch the films with him before Kyle loses interest. He remembers Butters acting crazy over it and humping Kyle in a frenzy. He resolves to gather the remaining two books and shuffle to the checkout, feeling a trivial giddiness over the paper bags the employee gives him.
When he returns to grab his coat, he notices Kip scrutinising him again, this time no longer holding a book or hiding his stare. Kyle bares no thought, overindulged in the comfort of this fantasy world he will get wrapped back up into again later. He probably should be wondering if it's Kip's haziness and ambiguity or his general demeanour that puts Kyle on edge, but he's not – trying to assert himself as unconcerned. He tries to ignore the bubbling unease that simmers within him again and strut confidently to his coat and scarf. He shrugs it on, ignoring the dampness of his scarf as he adjusts it around his neck.
Outside the snow is still as persistent, the fluffy, cloud like substance jitters as it falls, the wind blows it towards Kyle, and it stings when the snow touches him. Kyle pulls at the ear flaps of his hat, ensuring that it covers much of his ears and neck as possible, before doing the same with the scarf. He's hugging at the paper bags for dear life, coddling them to his chest as he pursuits forwards towards his house.
"Kyle," A voice calls from behind him, Kyle turns to find Kip there, heaving and looking flushed. He doesn't beckon Kyle towards him, instead running further out in the heavy snow to try and catch up with the smaller, he's panting when he reaches him, Kyle can see through his thick hair that he's ears are bright red. He looks cold.
"Uh, yeah?" Kyle replies confused and curious.
"I-" he gives himself a moment to breath out, "I haven't been here so long, I don't know what's happened since I've left, and-" He breathes in then out again, hurriedly. "And- and I was hoping you and I could meet up and you could – you know – could fill me in. Um. On everything that's happened."
Kyle's pity kickstarts his diplomacy, there's a sudden and familiar sense of compassion sparking between the snowflakes. He gives kip a flushed, rosy smile - "Sure." He says, wondering if this will affect him time with Kenny; it's easy to justify when he knows Kenny's weakness for gossip. "Do you know any places that we could meet up?" He tries, readjusting the books in his hand. Kip looks so out of place in the snow, foreign and afraid and isolated. Kyle's never been one to harm or hurt, he's always pushed himself to be a comfort – Kip's aura screams that he needs it.
"I only know Casa Bonita."
"The Disney Land of Mexican restaurants?"
"What?"
"No, Casa Bonita it is." Kyle dismisses, foregoing the thought that it to be somewhere so expensive.
"Uh, tonight?" He enquires, his voice hopeful and expectant.
"At eight." Kyle confirms, tonight means that he'll have to cut Kenny short, but their plans of sitting quietly with takeaway pizza and reruns of trash TV are always easily resumed. "Bye," Kyle waves, feeling intoxicated by it all. "See you later." He adds before completely turning away from Kip and into the mouth of the storm.
.
"Ah!-fuckin-"
Kenny's mouth is attached to Kyle's skin, rarely unlatching from the smaller's flush flesh as he sucks and laps at it, enjoying Kyle's heated, hiccupping breath as it wobbly glides over Kenny's exposed neck and draws the hairs onto their ends. His fingers clench into Kenny's shoulder blade and his body quakes under Kenny's touch. Kenny enjoys the gentle tremor of the other, he likes that he was the one to cause this. Kyle lets out a quiet whimper, fingers tangling into the fabric of Kenny's coat; twisting and clasping at the fabric like a newborn.
Kenny's hands retreat from Kyle's dick to run across his splayed thighs that encase and trap Kenny into driver's seat. Kyle is hung over the steering wheel, his face burning and buried within Kenny's hair. He whimpers repeatedly and groans when Kenny's fingers depart and leave him breathlessly waiting for more, greedily and impatiently anticipating Kenny's next touch.
Kenny loves this look Kyle holds when he's close and enjoys drawing Kyle out just to prolong the euphoria edged over his body. His fingers trail over the skin of Kyle's thighs, freshly shaved from a trivial lost bet between the two and doused in a light blanket of sweat that has been brought on by the erotica of the pair.
"Fucking," Kyle whimpers again, breathless and relentless as Kenny probes him again with both his middle and ring finger, he slips in his index when Kyle's rough grunts begin to soften in to sighing moans that slip from his lips and ghost over Kenny's skin in a sullen dance. Kyle's trembling is a clear indicator of his current standing, and when he moves his face to Kenny's neck, the tickle of his hair and the wisps of his breath bring forth a second wave of pleasure within Kenny who is still reeling from his own recent orgasm.
Kyle shudders and Kenny can feel him tighten around his fingers, he moans lightly and pushes his body to meet Kenny's mouth that's still nibbling at his skin. They pull away as a pleasured expression washes over Kyle's face. Eyes closed but mouth open. He doesn't moan whilst in orgasm, but before and after.
After Kyle settles, Kenny wipes his fingers along the other's thighs again and smiles adoringly up at him. God, he thinks, I'm so unworthy.
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They last twenty minutes like that, laying half naked and exposed together in Kenny's car, wondering if anyone can see them, and wondering if they care. They had impulsively pulled up a few streets away from Kenny's work on their way back home, feelings of borrowed time and liberty had pulsed through them both. Now, Kyle's so close to sleep that it's excruciating, and he wonders why his body won't just shut off. A nameless thought appears before him, wrapping him in a shadowy recollection of nostalgia. It brews and simmers within him thoughtlessly, brushing against his gut and beckoning it to remember. Kyle spends a mindless moment staring into the abyss of his daydream, trying to locate his promises and conversations. He brightens from his thoughts with a sudden recall to his situation.
"Shit!" He squeaks, jolting backwards away from Kenny into the steering wheel and setting it off. The commotion causes Kenny to wake with a panic, his jittering movement causes them to collide, and Kyle tries to prevent his wheezing when Kenny accidently head butts him in the stomach. Leaning back causes the horn to sound again, so Kyle hovers awkwardly between the wheel and Kenny whilst he regains his breath.
They collectively groan after, before giggling together, Kenny's mismatched brown and blue eyes cause the other to falter. Only when replaced with Kip's dopey, brown eyes does Kyle rouse from his trance. He groans and struggles to situate himself in the passenger's seat again, his discarded jeans are collected from the car's foot well and Kenny's sits bemused watching Kyle struggle to redress himself.
"Is it time?" Kenny asks, the scruffiness of his clothes is the only give away to their recent acts and Kyle tries to replicate Kenny's coolness with his own.
"Yeah, take me to Casa Bonita, will you?" He mumbles, briefly pausing zipping his jeans up to glance at Kenny. "Do I look like I just got fingered?" He asks cheekily, smirking at Kenny with a coy, playful smile.
"Yeah, wanna look like you've just been fucked instead?"
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Casa Bonita is overwhelming: it's rich, spicy smell, fragmented with the salty drizzle from the waterfall, presented at the back of the supreme diner. There are many attractions scattered around the perimeter of the large entrance, decorated in vivid, spectacular and gawking colours and a continual theme of the old west. Red and yellow hues run throughout the walls, giving a warm, tinted atmosphere; all staff wear overbearing sombreros and talk with crisp, Mexican accents – they repeat orders in Portuguese and nod excessively during them. The tables are excessively decorated with an umbrella and adorned with a tablecloth that has orange tassels drape off the ends of the square table, completed with complex patterns on it. It's a cluster of colours and designs, all which work and amalgamate with each other faultlessly.
Kyle's nerves begin to ascend during the car journey, he finds himself vocally expressing his unrest through a constant analysis of his current understanding and feelings of Kip – the nostalgia and confusion, his untamed buoyant and jaunty behaviour – following Kyle out into the snow, staring at him from under his hair, the faint awareness that Kip wasn't there for the books. It's surreal that Kyle is exposing himself to this man again, his demeanour spiked Kyle's apprehension and yet, Kyle is fluxed with his want to serve and help. He'd be kicking himself if Kip didn't seem so timid, so tormented. He sensed loneliness and prickled pride and he himself wouldn't be able to sleep knowing he'd hurt someone, no matter how trivial. "Oh, I'm just being silly," he muses to Kenny, as he opens the car door. "It's all going to be fine."
Now here, Kip hovering attentively by his side, mentioning his reservation with a stutter and a certain dizziness to his voice Kyle can't place, Kyle feels out of place. His body sways and Kyle's wonders if Kip is nervous too, he sure looks it: his foot taps on irregular beats, out of time to the live band that plays a traditional, Mexican instrumental; he gnaws on his bottom lip, irritating it until it becomes red and succulent from spit. The two stand out and Kyle hopes that he has put enough distance between the two of them to not cause too much gossip, but the reserve of the waitress' inquisitive eyes tell him differently.
"Good evening." She starts, before repeating it in Spanish, hollering them with the menu and stalking towards an empty bay. She indicates the table and waits for them to situate themselves before handing them the menus. "What would you like to drink?" She asks, her smile is plastic and unwavering, she nods whilst the boys order, then leaves after repeating them in both Spanish and English for confirmation.
"I didn't think you'd actually come; you know." Kip starts, "I got so worried because you seemed taken aback, I thought I had scared you." He gives an awkward, apologetic smile; rubbing the back of his neck to emphases. "I mean, it was probably in bad taste to ask a stranger out like that." He continues, smiling. "It's just everything's been really rough lately and I've only just returned to South Park. That's not really an excuse though. I'm sorry. It's just, you were the only person there for me at one point – I felt seriously alone, and you changed that, thank yo- fuck! Sorry, I need to stop coming straight out with the sentimental shit." He apologises again, and suddenly Kyle is at a loss of words and emotions. He had originally thought Kip was something else entirely and yet before him sits nothing like the socially awkward, unstable, loner that he had depicted. He is just a lost, wandering soul; trying to regain normalcy in the underbelly of his hometown.
"Its fine," Kyle responds, "Man, that seriously sucks- but yeah, I'm glad eight-year-old me helped, even if it was for a little while."
"Yeah, thanks." He blushes, whispering the words in an embarrassed spit. "You haven't changed much from what I remember anyway. I think that's why I recognised you. But then again, no one really changes here."
"Yeah, it's like we've chosen clothes and matched our lives around them." Kyle laughs, indicating his clothes and the present orange and green items that he garments. "Plus, puberty only served me in making me taller and, even then, seems like you did a better job of that then me. Even if you haven't been here for years, you don't look that much different either."
"I suppose that is the curse of South Park." Kip smiles, "doomed to look the same until you die." They have a playful giggle, trying to redirect any awkwardness into light-hearted small talk. His anxieties quickly dissipate, his opinion and understanding of Kip melts into a petty first impression that Kyle is ready to modify. Kip isn't as creepy as first expected, yet his gut tingles with uncertainty. Kyle knows that stubbornness is family trait and letting go of his initial reaction isn't something Kyle is keen to do, no matter how sour he feels over his previous misjudgements.
Their conversations spikes to a different note after ordering and soon Kyle's worries are momentarily misplaced. After the waitress leaves a second time with their orders documented, the two wander past Black Bard's Cave to the waterfall, where they potter along the riverbank and wait for the drivers to perform their ritual. Their mindless chatter creases when the first dives, mesmerised as he descends into a pool of water. His impact into the water barely recognising a splash. It's this notion that causes Kyle to crack a laugh.
"Oh God, I remember coming here for my birthday once." He starts, looking up momentarily at Kip before returning his gaze to the second diver preparing for his jump. "I didn't invite Cartman, so he hid Butters, told him the apocalypse was happening and that the survivors of earth were slowly being turned into zombie cannibals. Then when we found out, we were already here. So…" He stops, watching the second descend and enter the water flawlessly. They turn to walk back to the table and when they sit, Kyle continues the basis of his story. "So, he grabs me as some sort of hostage whist he makes a runner into Casa Bonita to try and do everything he was desperate to do before the cops got here. Oh my god, it was so funny."
Soon the story occupies the majority of the night, supported by other instances with Eric Cartman – it's almost refreshing to pass his childhood stories onto someone new, everyone else he wishes to share his stories with have heard it all before, or were involved in the incident. Kyle enjoys talking about his childhood, he doesn't do it frequently and when he and Kenny reminisce on it, it's never the moments like that.
The scenery is striking, portraits hang around them, Kyle identifies Benito Juarez; one of the most famous Mexican presidents he can conjure – Kyle calls him the Mexican Abraham Lincoln. Others hang around him, however not framed as grandly, rimmed by a gold decorative boarder that glistens daringly against its counterparts. Their food arrives and the conversation softens, falling into a lax murmur between bites. Kip asks about Kyle's current affairs, and Kyle has to stop himself from revelling about Kenny. He elects for Stan and his move away to university, and even a fleeting moment for Cartman's current standings, which the details he's unsure of. Something about being a private detective, or perhaps just someone who consistently bugs the police. When Kip gives him the same vague answer to his own question, Kyle notes his murky tone and registers that there might be something more.
"So, where are you living at the moment?" Kyle asks perfunctorily, focusing more on his tacos then Kip's lodgings.
"In my parent's old house." He responds ambiguously, leaving Kyle guessing as to why. He doesn't question it more, feeling rude and obtrusive. The conversation slips back towards Kyle, and he struggles to answer, where is he living? It's a mix between his childhood home and Kenny's apartment – nothing has been declared officially, but Kyle has a key for Kenny's and uses it frequently (almost more than his own.)
"I'm between places, actually." Kyle begins to explain, deciding it would be better to drop in his boyfriend than to not; he's uncertain of how Kip will take it and fears a negative reaction to his gayness. He speaks fluently about Kenny, describing him like water and air – a necessity. He wants to blabber about how Kenny's hair curls in the morning and how his snores sound more like a plane, how he makes awful coffee but Kyle drinks it all anyway because Kenny had made it for him. He wants to recite Kenny's good night kisses and his dozy poetry before bed, he wants to talk about their stupid drives into mountains on cut off roads and how Kenny's eyes come alive when he sees Kyle smile. But he doesn't.
Instead, he mentions Kenny's heterochromia and when Kenny gave him his key and how his parents and Ike are near the east coast. He mentions Ike's scholarship for a programme about things he's barely heard of. Through it he notices his boredom, his lack of adventure and drive that he used to detest when he was young. He misses his and Stan's Friday afternoons after school where they'd ditch homework for PlayStation or Xbox. His misses his Sundays with Kenny after Church, where they'd head down to Stark's pond and sit; Kenny still in his suit and Kyle wearing both a jacket and a coat. Their faces red from snow and embarrassment, and how they wouldn't really speak but leave with a peak on the lips.
"McCormick?" Kip awakens Kyle from his trance, using his limited trivia to question if it's the correct person he's talking about.
And Kyle's dopey smile says "yes."
.
The bill is split evenly between the two of them, and they leave promptly after they place it. Waiters call goodbyes after them, as they slowly stalk away from the restaurant into the night of South Park. Kip's face is flourishing with colour, and he looks unprepared for the night's weather. Kyle offers up his muffler reluctantly, he folds the scarf around Kip's neck to prevent Kip's evident display of confusion when faced with the task of putting it on. Kyle gives a quiet, accomplished smile when the scarf is fixed into place and lets Kip linger mindless after adjusting it before continuing their walk.
Kyle had forgotten to mention to Kenny about picking him up later, yet he doesn't mind walking through the endless streets of South Park, he knows that his town is fairly safe, and he understands what to do if faced with trouble. He is unsure of how Kip will find his way home and comes to a silent agreement with himself to not walk him there. However, Kip offers to walk Kyle home and wins through persistence. They stroll towards Kenny's home silently, the snow crisp under their feet and a hazy dribble still secretes from the greying sky as if it's emptying the final remains of today's downpour. Kyle leads Kip through winding backroads and dimly lit passages; the snow hasn't been touched in many areas and between them both, they manage to glide unstably along, christening the snow behind them. Kyle falls completely at one point, Kip instinctively lurches to him, causing them both to crash onto the floor, Kip's teeth clack against Kyle's chin and he lays fully on top of the shorter, squishing him. Kip presses himself off slowly with a whispered apology, offering Kyle a hand up. When they finally dust themselves off and regain their pace, Kyle feels a distasteful tingling within his gut, he restrains himself from wiping his chin more than once to remove the feeling of Kip's teeth but finds himself waiting for Kip to look completely away so he can do it again.
This act continues for a short moment before the reach Kenny's gate. One of Kyle's hands rest firmly against it and the other begins to raise to wave Kip goodbye. However, Kip reaches out and grabs it, letting his hand snake lower until his fingers lace around Kyle's wrist. Kyle isn't sure of what's happening, he begins stuttering sentences out to communicate: that he has a boyfriend; that he doesn't understand; if Kip could let go. But barely any registers on his tongue before Kip's other hand presses firmly into his palm and gives it a firm shake goodbye. Although the handshake is brief, Kip's fingers don't retreat for an elongated second, whirling the sticky, distressed tingles within Kyle and causing them to blossom.
"Thanks for tonight, it's been real fun – oh and sorry for falling on you and all." He gives a strained sigh, where he tucks his hands into his pockets and proceeds to step back. "Well then, I hope we meet soon. Maybe we can go to the arcade that you mentioned. Ok, yeah…" He steps backwards again, shrugging his body in farewell. "Goodbye, Kyle."
And yet again, Kyle is thrown through the entire emotional turmoil; the unpleasantness, the pity; the want to make a new friend. How the lingering sense of dread left, returned and is now again dissipating. He keeps spiralling within himself; wanting to dislike him, trying to retain his apprehension only for it to shrivel and sputter out. "Sure, bye." He says, knowing inherently that that Kip will make sure of it.
