Hey to all the reviewers and readers, I re did this chapter but it is still short :3 I just don't want to overdo the plot, sorry '^^ Anyway enjoy the new chapter and review.
Stan lit up a cigarette, its aroma filling my nostrils and making my throat retract into a coughing fit. I waved my hand across the dusty path in the air and gave Stan a look that could kill. "I thought you said you gave up smoking." I stated simply. Neither of us had said a word about the kiss or anything else for the matter.
"I did." His lips opened slightly for the addictive stick of nicotine, inhaling the deathly substance. I had a towel wrapped around my shoulders and waist after coming out of the bath, it was a surprise to see Stan lighting up in his bedroom, his parents just below us.
The conversation seemed to drown out then, its contents becoming thin and withered.
I began to towel dry my hair, the natural red curls bouncing back. I could feel Stan's eyes all over me as he took another drag of his cigarette. "I think we should talk." He exhaled.
"About what?" I began to act oblivious to the situation, I knew what it was about and that we really did need to talk. I just didn't feel ready for that burden yet.
"You know what Kyle." His tone become serious, I felt a hand caress my upper arm gently, Stan's breath on the back of my neck. Even though to most this would be the romantic scene they would hope for, I felt sick, un-easy, shaken. I just couldn't handle the pressure of a relationship or commitment.
We had talked about our feelings over the few months that had gone by, we even clarified that they were just teenage hormones. Still Stan and I still seemed dazed by the fact we were attracted to each other but claimed to be straight.
Stan was now pressed up against my back, feeling his clothing material against my bare pale skin.
"Ky. You're the smart one; you should be the one suggesting to talk." Stan's fingers now grazed over my stomach, my nerves tying my stomach into knots. I winced slightly to the touch and slipped back into his body.
"I can smell it on your breath." I began to digress from the subject as his lips were inches from my neck. I hated it when he acted all touchy feely, I knew that he didn't want me, well that's at least what I thought.
The scenario we were in became a distant memory, a memory of the night we first made out. That one drunken night that complicated my life and sent it spiraling.
"Just one Ky, please, if not for me then for yourself?" My lips quivered as I brought the bottle towards them, Stan gaping like a fish out of water.
"Come on Ky!" He cheered as if in a crowd at a baseball game, was drinking really all that important to him? Well if it meant that much I was certain to try it, mostly to shut him up.
"Please Stan. Stop being a moron and I'll do it" I traced my tongue across the rim of my lips which were slightly cracked due to the cold whether we had just been partial to. I put the bottle to my lips and let the liquid pass through my dry mouth, melting into the unusual taste of bitter and sweet sensations. In all honesty it was good.
"Finally dude. I've been waiting three years for you to do that!" Stan let out a loud sigh of relief as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. I once again took a swig of the alcohol, handing the bottle back to my super best friend, who in turn smiled like he was proud of me.
"Want one?" Stan offered a cancer stick to me, the smell of his own tempting my fingers to grasp it. Fortunately my brain told me otherwise, that was the one aspect I liked about myself. I had self control.
"No, not really" I was oblivious to the fact that Stan had given up on persuading me to talk about reality and that he had taken his place back on the bed, cigarette in hand. He really did smoke too much sometimes, though he said he had 'given up' on the habit.
"What are you doing later?" He asked, stumping the smoke onto his hand and chucking the evidence out of the window. I shook my head and grabbed his burnt hand, he was an idiot sometimes.
"You are a moron." I hissed and examined the small burn on his palm, it looked painful, though he didn't flinch.
"I asked you a question dork." Stan snorted and poked my forehead with his index finger, god damn did that hurt. I lifted my curly bangs and rubbed the reddened spot which began to form.
"What?" Obliviously asking, I decided a quick lecture from his best friend would even him out.
"What are you doing later?" He repeated, his voice rising in pitch slightly.
"Oh. Nothing I guess." Shrugging I headed for his draws, searching for some boxers to wear and other essential clothes. I picked up a t-shirt which had a picture of a dead bird, reading atticus underneath. I guess it would have to do, though it looked a little big.
"Well, do you wanna' come over? We could do some stuff we used to do." A plea was heard in his voice, like he needed me to come over, like he would do anything for me to come over.
"Sure" I smiled, it was false though and Stan could tell, I just wanted to try and be happy. For once at least. I carried on with my search for clothes, which I found soon in the wardrobe; well at least the skinny jeans were in there.
It took me about five minutes to get ready in the bathroom, due to Stan trying to peak whilst I was changing. I had to confront him and tell him to stop once it really got on my last nerve. 'pervert' I thought with a hint of amusement in my mind. Once I had finally finished, I stepped out of the bathroom, my jeans hanging off of my waist. Don't get me wrong, Stan was small, but apparently I was smaller. Typical.
"mmm…Nice ky, nice." Stan spoke, a smile radiating his deliciously white teeth. He was obviously pleased by the way I was dressed, I never really though I suited the skinny jean and shirt look. My mom always thought that I should dress nicely and at least try with my appearance, even if it was lacking.
"Oh by the way, your other clothes are in the dryer" He stated, going back to the comic he had began reading whilst I was preoccupied with changing. For once the atmosphere between us was friendly, like when we were younger. I wanted to suggest something, something we could do to take our minds off of problems. But what?
I sat beside Stan, my pants falling lower than intended, showing the rim of my boxers. I watched as his hand wriggled towards my hip, a single finger taking the elastic and flicking it rough against my bare skin. My facial expression turned into pain for mere moments before I reached down to rub the spot that had just been abused.
"You forced me to do that" Stan tried to hold back the hilarity that sounded in his smug voice, his hands over his mouth to stop a faint fit of laughter from pouring out.
"You are so hilarious Stan Marsh, I will now swoon over your amazing talent for comedy." I snorted with a hint of spite, of course Stan took it over his head and prodded me in the already agonizing spot making me frown in disapproval.
"Stop it." I swatted his hand away, with a cuss in pain. I could still hear his snickers behind the marvel comic of batman he was reading.
"Stwan-Stan Stany" I slurred and sang as I tried to attain to desired substance we had been drinking all night. He held it above him and shook his head in dismay.
"Ky- Kylie you are no fun." He giggled like a high school girl taking the bottle and holding it to my lips, ooh so close to them that I could almost taste it. I stuck my tongue out for him, trying to get him to satisfy my need for drink.
"Pwease" I gave him my best pet eyes and crawled onto his lap in a state, grasping the bottle neck. His hands ran over my own on the bottle, a sharp sensation travelling through my entire body. It was almost as good as pleasure itself.
"Stan. Did yous, you feel that thing?" I mumbled in confusion of the feelings that were just sent through my anatomy. That's when things turned for the worse, or was it for the better…
My mom wasn't happy when I arrived home unannounced, and with Stan, the 'bad influence' on me. "I told you not to go out Kyle! You are sick remember? Or don't you remember the other night, when I got up at a stupid hour of the morning for you?" She snapped, her hands gripping a dirty dish which she was scrubbing continuously in the same place.
"I'm not sick mom. Can we please not talk about this with company?" I indicated to Stan, who was oblivious to what was happening. She was way too paranoid, but I don't blame her, stuck in this small house in a useless village made up of idiotic morons. It gets to you when you stare at the same four walls every hour of every day, without anyone to stare at them with.
Stan raised a brow, I know why, we still needed to talk. Fuck. Why was everything so complicated right now. "You know what Kyle, next time you need me, you might not be so lucky." She gestures toward me and shook her head, slamming the kitchen door, leaving me and Stan startled by her reaction.
"Mom." My voice cracked lightly, I wiped the dew that formed in the corner of my eyes.
"You okay?" He reached for my hand but I flinched away, too angry for the gentle touch that I didn't deserve. Why did I have to make my mom so unhappy? When I know how unhappy she is already. I'm being selfish again.
"Go home Stan, I'll meet you there later." I cracked a smile slightly, which dropped ultimately when he nodded and turned his back. I sighed in agony, my head hurt like a bitch still from the cut.
"Kyle" I turned my head with a blunt expression on my face, Stan took my chin into his thumb and forefinger, laying a passionate kiss on my cut head. His arms intertwined with my body, holding me tight for mere seconds before letting go and completing my wishes for him to leave.
"Bye Stan." I whispered before heading upstairs to pack my bags, it's not like mom would listen to me if I asked her if I could stay with Stan. I needed to talk to Ike, he could understand mom more than me, I didn't know how her messed up head worked. I just hoped Ike did.
Inhaling a painful gasp of air, I lightly tapped on my brother's door, waiting for an invite. "Come in…" His voice was sinister; I bet he thought I was mom.
"Hey Ike" I whispered as I cracked the door open, being awaited by the hard smell of smoke. The room was like a crypt, the smoke began to convolve with my body, a dry cough escaping my lips.
"I-Ike?" I waved my hand in effort to clear the room so that mom wouldn't have the stale taste of smoke reach her and get Ike into trouble.
"Dude, I told you not to smoke in here!" I entered the room with a motive, to stop Ike from ruining his life. I seized the cigarette from his hand, imitating Stan by stamping it out on my palm, boy did I regret that.
"Fuck! Do you want to ruin your fucking life?" I cussed, opening the curtains to reveal Ike's pale skin which contrasted with his naturally raven colored hair. It reminded me of Stan.
"What do you care." He pulled out a new cigarette and brought it to his lips; I smacked it from his grasp again. He wasn't listening, why didn't anyone listen to me.
"Because, you are my responsibility." I could feel Ike's brow rise, I knew what he was about to say and knew I wouldn't like it one bit. He lifted his hands up to his eyes, red with deprived sleep.
"Why are you acting like this? Huh?" I sat beside him, an arm wrapping around his childlike shoulder. He needed comfort, if not from his mom, from his older brother. He didn't answer and I knew I wasn't going to get one soon. I was more likely to get fixed that him tell me.
"What's up with mom? Except from the obvious. Obviously." I questioned with a hint of light comedy in my tone. Ike on the other hand didn't find me all that funny; his hand pushed me away from the embrace we were once holding strong. Did I say something to offend or hurt him?
"Are you that oblivious Kyle?" He quickly hurdled himself from the bed and pointed to the door, wanting me to leave. I was confused. I wasn't oblivious to the fact she and dad were divorced, that was what was wrong so why am I having the blame forced down my throat.
"Oblivious? To what? It's not my fault mom and dad broke up." my fists turned white as I clutched my hands into a fist with anger. The room appeared to turn dark as Ike's juvenile arguments drowned out my thoughts.
"You are so selfish…" He muttered beneath his smoke infested breath, if I was being so selfish why Abraham didn't punish me for being an ultimate dick head was beyond me.
"I'm a dick I get it Ike, now I'm going to leave you to wallow in self-pity because your life isn't going according to plan. See ya." With that I slammed the door which almost came off the hinges, right now I did feel like a dick. But I guess I didn't give a shit right now.
"Stan." I managed to articulate so that Stan could understand, being in our state of drunkenness, he leaned in and pressed his lips against my own, licking them like a friendly naïve puppy. That's when I reacted by opening my own lips and wrapping my arms around his strong neck, oblivious to the bottle we were just holding, it's contents spilling across Stan's mom's refurbished carpet.
"Ky" He groaned loudly with a giggle, running a hand up my shirt to feel my bare chest which was smooth and hairless, his fingers tickling my skin. I felt a knot tie in my stomach again, like a rope. It felt like I was going to be sick.
"you taste like sugar and alco-alco-hol" He pulled back from my lips and gave me a goofy grin, one that he would only give me when he was truly in his state of happiness.