When we last left Firkle he had just passed out in Mirabelle's bedroom because of some drugs she slipped into his drink. What happened to him? Is he going to make out ok? Hopefully! Let's find out, shall we?

Chapter 11 – Why We Cry

I was afraid to open my eyes. I was scared that I was going to find myself tied down to Mirabelle's bed with no clothes on. But then, why did it feel like I was resting quite comfortably? I decided to carefully open one eye and was astonished by where I was and opened my eyes fully.

I was in Ike Broflovski's room. Which was strange because I could've sworn I passed out in Mirabelle's bedroom. Sitting up, I startled Ike, who was sitting in a chair next to the bed. He had appeared to have been dozing off.

"Firkle! You're awake!" he exclaimed, "Oh thank God! I was really worried about you!"

Confused, I blinked at him. Was the party just a dream or something? "What happened?" I wondered.

"Well, after I told my friends we were leaving I came back to find you gone," Ike explained, and as soon as he said this my heart began to sink, "I frantically searched for you, when I saw Mirabelle pulling you up some stairs. So I fought my way through the crowd and made my way towards those stairs. When I got up to the room, Mirabelle was dragging you onto the bed and you were unconscious. I immediately made her let go of you and I got you out to my car, drove you back to my house, and put you to bed." He paused and gave me a sideways look. "I've been watching you all night because I was afraid whatever drugs she gave you could've seriously hurt you."

I listened to his story and the horrible feeling started to lift. "So, she didn't… do anything to me while I was out?" I asked cautiously. Ike shook his head.

"No," he replied, "I don't think she had enough time. I'm pretty sure I came in right after you passed out."

With his answer, I couldn't help but sigh with relief. It was like a crushing weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I turned to Ike and was about to tell him this, but then I noticed something odd.

There were tears in Ike's eyes. I cocked my head in confusion.

"Ike? What's wrong?" I wondered.

"I'm so sorry, Firkle," Ike said in a small shuddering voice, "I should've never forced you to go to that party with me. I simply should have sucked it up and went by myself or just grew a pair and said no. But instead I dragged you into it and it nearly got you assaulted twice. I couldn't even keep my promise to stay with you!"

I stared in astonishment as Ike broke down and started sobbing. I'm not very used to anyone crying. My friends and I don't show our emotions very often, and we don't hang around others that do. So, I had no idea what to do in this situation.

I pursed my lips and looked down at the bedsheets, trying to think of a way to comfort him. My mouth opened and closed several times as I tried to think of something to say.

"Um, it's ok, Ike," I muttered, "I know it was a disaster, but I wasn't hurt." Except for when the quarterback punched me in the gut. But I decided to keep that info to myself.

This didn't seem to soothe him. I don't think he even heard what I said. "I should've taken you up on your offer to do something else," he cried, "Then none of this would've happened. I'm so sorry!"

Desperately, I tried to think of something that was salvageable from last night. Then I remembered when we went outside. I leaned over and grabbed his shoulders.

"Ike! It's ok!" I told him, "It wasn't all bad. When we were together I actually enjoyed myself (as much as I hate to admit it.) We had a rather nice chat that wouldn't have happened if we hadn't gone and I hadn't had forgotten my cigarettes."

Ike started to calm down from my words, wiping his tears on his sleeves. He took a shuddering breath. "You're not mad at me?" he wondered. I shook my head.

"Neither of us wanted to go to that party. And you did save me from Mirabelle," I pointed out. Ike nodded.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, "God, I must look so pathetic right now. It's not cool for guys to cry, but I've always been pretty emotional." I shrugged.

"Eh, I don't really care if a guy cries or not," I said, "I don't judge people for showing emotions. I mean, why were we given them if we're never supposed to show them? Well, it might seem a little hypocritical coming from me because I'm very reserved with my emotions, and I haven't cried in a long time, but I don't condemn others that do, ya know?"

In fact, I could remember the last time I had cried. Really cried. It was when the twins were about three years old and I was twelve. Timmy and Tammy were doing some mundane toddler thing and all I wanted was for my parents to pay attention to me long enough to help me with my homework and feed me dinner. You know, because I was twelve and didn't know how to cook. But instead they focused all their attention on the twins, and when dinner finally came, they only made some for themselves and Timmy and Tammy.

It was at that moment when I realized that my parents no longer loved me, let alone cared anything about me. I retreated to my room, hungry, and cried myself to sleep. I haven't cried since that day. But I told none of this to Ike.

Speaking of Ike, he had gotten up from his chair and went around to crawl into bed beside me. He gave me a sheepish smile.

"Heh, sorry. You spaced out a little and I'm really tired and it's pretty late," he explained.

"Really? What time is it?" I wondered.

"Like, three in the morning," he replied, "But listen, thanks for cheering me up. And for not making fun of me. My friends usually tease me with how emotional I am sometimes. But I can't help it. I just get worried for people, you know? And I have feelings. So sue me."

I shrugged. "People are just going to have to realize that guys have feelings too and they're allowed to show them," I said, "That's nothing to be ashamed of."

Smiling slightly, Ike leaned over and lightly pressed against me. "Thank you, Firkle," he murmured, "I feel a lot better now."

"Any time," I replied. After that we both laid down and went to sleep.

…

I was woken a few hours later by something squeezing my arm. Loud noises don't usually wake me, but someone or something touching me does. Which is probably why I didn't notice that it was thunder storming until a loud boom shook the entire room, causing my arm to be squeezed even harder.

"Ow," I muttered. I opened my eyes and rolled over to see Ike pressed up against me, clutching my arm in fear. The room was just light enough so I could see his eyes darting around, as if he was scared that something was out to get him. There was a strike of lightning which caused Ike to flinch, and a few moments later a clap of thunder made him bury his face in my shoulder. I blinked at him before reaching over and turning on the lamp on the nightstand.

"Uh, Ike? Are you all right?" I asked, "You seem a little freaked out."

Ike stared at me with wide eyes. "S-Sorry," he muttered, "Um, this may seem silly, but er, I'm scared of thunderstorms."

"You're scared of thunderstorms?" I repeated.

"Don't laugh!" he hissed, "I've been afraid of them ever since I was young. When I was growing up, every time there was a thunderstorm something bad would happen, like ghosts would appear, or the president would return. And whenever there was one I would go to my brother's room and he would let me sleep with him. But ever since he left for college I've been more scared than ever." He sighed. "I know it's pathetic. A sixteen-year-old is still afraid of thunderstorms."

I sat up and looked at him. "Ike, that's nothing to be ashamed of," I pointed out, "Everyone has something they're afraid of, from small things to big things. Like for instance, Pete is afraid of barbers and hairstylists."

"H-He is?" Ike asked in surprise. I nodded.

"Yeah, he's rather proud of his hair," I told him, "But his parents hate it. They want him to cut it off and make it all black again, but he won't. So he's become paranoid that his parents have bribed every barber and hairstylist in South Park to chop off his hair. That's why when he needs to get it trimmed or re-dyed he makes one of us do it."

Ike stared in astonishment at me. "Really?!" he exclaimed.

"Uh-huh," I replied, "And Henrietta's afraid of any cat that isn't black for some reason. She's never told us why. Michael is afraid of plants ever since the emo incident. Even though those were just regular plants."

"Wow," Ike murmured, "Is it a specific kind of plant or any plant in general?"

"Basically any plant that's in a pot," I explained, "When he and Pete moved into the college campus together, Pete's mom thought it would be nice to get them a house plant to liven the room, and in a panic Michael smashed it on the ground."

"Geez Michael," Ike chuckled.

"Just so you know, you can't tell my friends I told you any of this," I said, "They're really sensitive when it comes to their fears."

Ike nodded and looked down for a moment. "Um, if you don't mind me asking, what are you afraid of, Firkle?" he wondered.

I hesitated. This was a surprisingly hard question. Right now I greatly feared the football team, but because of who they were but because of what they did to me and what they could do to me again. I thought about every time they attacked me and every time I felt the most scared. What did they all have in common? Something that I could tell Ike?

"I'm afraid of being restrained," I answered finally. Ike looked at me.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I don't like feeling trapped and hopeless," I explained, "So I get really scared when I can't move my arms and legs for whatever reason. Whether I'm tied up, or being pinned down, or some other reason, I just get so nervous and scared. Like when those two acquaintances of yours had me pinned to the wall at the party yesterday. Or whenever the football team holds me down or ties me up so they can torture me easier."

"Geez," Ike muttered.

"There was a day, two years ago on a Friday when I was about to leave to go home," I told him, "I was at my locker getting my stuff out when Filmore and Quaid suddenly shoved me into and trapped me. I couldn't move my arms at all to reach my cell phone and call my friends for help. I was stuck in there all weekend. I was absolutely terrified."

"Oh my God!" Ike exclaimed, "I'm so sorry!" I gave nonchalant shrug.

"Whatever. It's in the past now. I just hold an ever-lasting grudge against them, no big deal," I assured him. Ike seemed to relax at that, but then seemed to think of something and grew a bit nervous.

"Er, Firkle?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry," he said, "About the first time I kissed you." I gave him a confused look, not knowing what he meant. He swallowed and continued. "Remember? I pushed you down and pinned your wrists down. If I had known it made you nervous and scared, I wouldn't have done it." I blinked at him.

"Oh yeah, that," I remembered, "Ah, forget about it. You didn't know, and you weren't really holding me very strongly. Honestly, I was more confused than anything else."

Ike let out a breath of relief. Then he flinched slightly when he heard the sound of distant of thunder. "Um, would it be all right if I held onto you until the storm passes?" he wondered.

I gave him a small smile. "Sure," I replied. Even though I knew we were both tired and we were going to fall asleep in each other's arms before the storm passed. Still, I allowed it anyway.

This entire chapter is just basically Firkle comforting Ike, I realized. Oh well. I wanted to show how close the two are growing as friends and maybe more. Firkle doesn't realize how close he's growing to Ike and that they're basically friends at this point. He trusts Ike with quite a bit, even if he won't admit it. Anyway what did you think of this chapter? Leave a comment telling me what you thought!