Chapter Nineteen
Kyle's Point of View
"WHAT THE FUCK!" yells a familiar voice; stabbing through the silence of the night. I freeze, frantically clinging to Cartman. "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?" shouts Stan; appearing out of nowhere, Wendy runs after him. I loosen my grip on Cartman as he hastily lowers me to the ground, releasing me from his grasp; we both turn to see Stan's horrified face staring back.
"S-Stan I- C- ahhh," is all I managed to blurt out, shaking at the shock.
"What does it look like?" replies Cartman calmly. Regardless of his stupid comment, I'm relieved he seems in control.
"Don't you dare say another word, asshole!" Stan yells at him, gritting his teeth.
"I can't even see what the problem is?" Cartman takes a confident and commanding step forward.
"The problem is that you're taking advantage of a drunken person, look at him he's incapable of speaking and he's shaking."
I feel my blood boil and hastily push Cartman backwards. "He's not taking advantage of me!" I yell at Stan in astonishment, "and I'm not drunk!" He looks me over in surprise, taking me in properly for the first time and weighing up whether to believe me.
"Well what other explanation is there for you two kissing?" he stutters slowly. We both look intently at him. "Y-You can't possibly have f-feelings for him, Kyle?"
"I do," I say sincerely, locking my eyes strongly onto Stan's.
"B-but you hate Cartman... and he's a guy!"
"It makes sense that he's a guy Stan, I'm gay." I thought he was going to fall over from the shock, Wendy grabs his arm in an attempt to keep him steady; he bats her away and points his finger accusingly at me.
"You're gay... you're gay and you didn't tell me!" His look of anger slowly transforms into hurt. "How long have you known it?"
"I- well..."
"HOW LONG KYLE?" he yells, anger levels rising.
"I've known for about TWO YEARS," I yell back, "and the reason I didn't tell you is because you've completely shut yourself off from people, YOU never tell ME anything!"
"I've never kept something this big from you."
"You have kept things from me then?" Stan scowls at me, and then over at the brown haired boy standing beside me, whom, I notice looks upset. I reach out and pull him into a sideways hug, resting my head on his shoulder, "and I don't hate Eric, there's another feeling that fits a whole lot better." Stan's eyes widen in incredulity, and then he seems to understand.
"So this is who you were trying to impress," he concludes, with a sneer.
"What?" I reply, confused.
"With the clothes, remember?" I blush again.
"Well those jeans do look rather sexy," pipes up Cartman, smirking, I hit him and narrow my eyes, blushing even harder.
"That isn't helping," I hiss.
"Well honestly Stan's being a right pussy about this, by the sounds of it Kenny took it a whole lot better," unfortunately he does murmur this quietly enough, my eyes widen as I hide my face in his chest, preparing for my best friend's reaction.
"WHAT? You told Kenny before you told me! That's it!" yells Stan. I peer up as he turns, grabs Wendy and storms off, Wendy looks over her shoulder and gives me a remorseful glance, and as I look up at Cartman, he's doing the same. I let his arms encapsulate me into a hug, it feels warm and safe. It's bizarre to think that I'm seeking comfort from him, even stranger that it's in such a caring way.
"I didn't mean for him to hear that," he whispers.
"It's probably best he did," I sigh back. As I gaze into his chocolate eyes I notice a grin forming on his face.
"What are you grinning about?" I ask sceptically.
"You called me Eric." He sounds very satisfied.
"I felt it was time to get serious for a moment." I state, steadily.
"I like it." He kisses the top of my head, in such an uncharacteristically gentle way, making me feel so calm and protected.
"Why can't Stan understand?"
"I don't even properly understand." Eric speaks gravely, he grabs my face and pulls me into a slow and affectionate kiss, "but everything will be O.K. Come on, I'll take you home."
Damien's Point of View
It's very simple, if you have the correct equipment, I usually just melt it, but I'm trying to be discrete. A tension wrench and a straightened out paper clip do the job very nicely, just feel the pins and push them up, then turn. Hey presto the door opens. Now Kenny knows this house well, he knows that the third and seventh steps creak on the stairs, but the rest make no noise; Kenny knows this, hence I know it. Therefore when I proceed to creep up the stairs, I miss out the third and seventh steps.
Yeah, yeah alright... Ooh... Satan's disciple. I sing in my head as I creep down the landing, taking care not to make a sound, checking to see if all the doors are closed. They comin' to get us, us, us, us. I stop outside the door I'm after, reaching out for the handle and lightly grasping it. Thankfully it isn't locked; opening bolts from the outside is far more difficult than picking a lock. I turn the handle and gradually push open the door, gliding into the room and pushing the wood back the other way. Satan's disciple's they're comin'. Taking in my surroundings, I notice how tidy the room is, a few posters, some neatly lined up books, nothing of vague interest to me though. They're comin' to get us very soon. I look down at the sleeping boy sprawled out over the bed, still wearing his daytime clothes, as if he's stumbled into his room and crashed hazily onto the bed, instantly dead to the world. And if they don't come to get me, then you know they're comin' to come and get you.
I shove my hand forcefully over his mouth and pinch his nose, he splutters awake, eyes blinking rapidly, seemingly disorientated with his surroundings, then he looks up at me with such beautiful panic and dread in his glowing eyes. I suppose a demon standing over your bed in the moonlight, with eyes gleaming crimson would be rather terrifying.
"Don't be scared pretty boy," I whisper, keeping his head pushed down with my hand, "come and join the party, your guest is waiting for you." Pulling some ready prepared chloroform out from my coat pocket, I quickly shove it in his face. He gasps in shock, inhaling the chemicals in the process. He's soon unconscious, I hastily withdraw the cloth; they say too much can kill.
Leaving the house proves just as easy as entering, he's shorter than average and slim built, not that it would matter if he wasn't, humans are easy to handle. I throw him down in the snow and relock the door, using his key, which I found in his coat pocket in the hall. I look at him, lying in the snow, bright red hair contrasting boldly to its pale whiteness. Why it is that Kyle Broflovski is causing me so many problems, I don't know, obviously he sees that pathetically caring side of Kenny, the one that the stupid blond can't seem to help but exercising. Oh well, I told him something bad would happen if he went too far, and he has. Picking Kyle up again I sprint for my destination, it won't be long now.
A/N: Hey folks! Don't use your new lock picking knowledge to break into houses. That would be bad mmkay?
Bizzy Bone- Satan's Disciples was Damien's song of choice.
Safe? Protected? Everything will be O.K? Well I couldn't let that last... (Evil laugh)
It made me so happy to wake up and find that 'clockworkdp1' had read the whole thing through at once! Thank you, and thank you to all my other readers. Thank you to the reviewers as well, I'm extremely grateful, EXTREMELY.