As if some random guy beating the shit out of me and robbing me in the middle of the night wasn't enough, the next day, Stan and his goons greet me in the change room after a home game.
They leave me groaning in pain on the change room bench, and all I can say is that this is getting old. Since Craig isn't here to help me up, I stay seated for a few more minutes, trying to clear my head.
Eventually, I muster up the strength and stand up, heading outside to catch the bus. I almost miss it, but I run after it for a few feet before the driver sees me and lets me on. "Thanks," I mutter, handing the guy a bus ticket and walking to the back of the bus.
Suddenly, a hand is on my arm, and I jump, jerking away. Memories of last night fill my mind, but I force them away. "Kenny?" It was just Kyle. My face lights up and I give the redhead a small smile, taking the empty bus seat next to him.
"Hey," I say quietly. Kyle looks at me oddly, worriedly.
"You look like shit." He says it plainly. I chuckle and nod, saying that 'I know'. "Wanna talk about it?" he asked. I stared out the window as the bus flew past the houses and small businesses of South Park. I shook my head no.
"You don't want to hear me whine. How are you doing?" I ask. "Still upset about Rebecca?"
Kyle shrugs. "Not really. She was kind of a bitch, anyways." I smile.
"That's good. You deserve better." Kyle smiles and thanks me. I bite my lip and look away. He does deserve better... better than me. I sigh.
All thoughts of my inferiority to my best friend disappear when Kyle puts his hand on my leg, and my mind is suddenly moving at a hundred miles a second. I look over at him, and he blushes, moving his hand and looking out the window. I blush too as I grab his hand back and replace it in its original position on my thigh. He gives me a shy smile and leans his head on my shoulder.
The bus approaches my house first, and I shift uncomfortably. "Hey, Ky," I say quietly. Kyle sits up. "You want to come over?"
Kyle bites his lip. "I-I'm sorry, Kenny, I have to watch Ike tonight," he lies. I know he's lying - I've known him since kindergarten, and I know that when he lies, Kyle tenses up, which he is. But I just nod and say goodbye as I get off the bus.
I sit down on the curb outside my house and light up a cigarette. I just breathe in the poison and forget about everything - about last night, about Kyle, about Craig, about everything. But then my brother opens the front door.
"Hey, you washed up shitbag, dinner's ready!" Kevin shouts at me, slamming the door as he goes back inside.
"Love you too, Kev," I murmur.
I put out my cigarette and head inside to have another fight with my mother over my eating habits. Or lack thereof. When I get inside, my dad's not home (as usual), and my mom is sitting with Kevin at the table smiling like I'm going to walk in there and eat five pop-tarts just like Kev would. I stop at the door frame.
"I'm not really hungry." I don't know why I bother lying anymore. It's an insult to my family's intelligence, really. My mother's face goes pale and her smile is wiped off her face, and I am the world's worst son.
"Kenny," she begins. I close my eyes so I don't have to watch my mother's heart breaking even further. "Please, just eat something," she begs me. Kevin looks up as my mom starts to cry and she says, "What did I do wrong, Lord?" and I can't stand to watch as my brother comforts her and flips me off.
I run up to the bathroom and I'm on the floor in tears. This thing, it's ruining me. It's ruining everything. But then I'm at the toilet and my finger is down my throat the very little I'd consumed in the last two days comes up and my mother's cries echo through the walls and all I want to do is be thin. All I want is to be good enough for him.
Stan stands in front of me, and I expect him to start beating me to a pulp for no reason any second.
"Kenny, we gotta talk, bro."
'Bro'? Is he kidding me? We haven't been 'bros' since ninth grade. But I simply say "Sure, man, what's up?"
Stan sits down next to me on the change room bench and gives me a serious look. "Kyle's really broken up about him and Rebecca," he says. I raise an eyebrow at him.
"That's weird, 'cause Kyle told me the exact opposite," I say, mustering up all the sarcasm in my soul. It goes over the jock's head, not to my surprise whatsoever. "He told me he was fine." Stan clears his throat.
He says, "Well, he was just trying to seem like he's got everything under control, Ken. But he doesn't." I sigh, getting ready for another bout of bullshit from the Bullshit Master. "He's really sad, okay? He doesn't need guys like you trying to hook up with him right now." He emphasizes 'guys like you'.
So this is what this is all about. I scowl, and my whole body is flush with anger. "Fuck you, Stan. Just fuck you," I say in frustration. I stand up and try to leave, but Stan puts a hand on my shoulder and I stop. Stan steps in front of me.
"Kenny, Kyle's my best friend, and you... well," he pauses and for a moment I actually thought I saw a hint of empathy or compassion in his eyes. "You're a whore." Guess I was wrong. "Kyle doesn't need your perverted shit right now!" I slap him.
Stan steps back and stares at me with wide eyes and puts a hand to his face where I slapped him. "You know what, Stan?" I ask him. "You don't know shit. You don't know what I go through every fucking day, alright? I'm so fucking in love with him, you just don't have a fucking clue what I do for him!"
I stop there, realizing what I just said. Stan stared at me in shock.
"You..." I take a deep breath and nod.
"I'm in love with Kyle Broflovski." I state it clear as day and leave the black-haired douchebag in the change room alone. For the first time since I started starving myself, I feel amazing. I feel... worth something for a change.
A/N: Two more chapters + Epilogue. Reviews make me happy :D