Ahhhhhhh... my third chapter... It's been a long ride for me up 'til now, you know. This is the longest chapter yet, with seven thousand some odd words. Truth is, I didn't want to make a two thousand word chapter so I just left it in with the third one. Lots going on, in this one, too.
Also, I'd like to thank my two faithful reviewers "MidnightLuve" and "CatLover90" for leaving a review on the two previous chapters.
Unfortunately, I do not own South Park, as much as I'd like to. It belongs to Matt Stone and Trey Parker.
Anyhoot, read on, chers lecteurs.
I lay there for an unknown amount of time, enveloped in light and comfort, an air of serenity all around me. I felt like I was laying on a fluffy cloud, I was so comfortable. I could have just layed there for all eternity, even if the world ended now, for all I cared. I didn't want to move, not even open my eyes to see where I was, I was so comfortable. I hadn't slept like this in ages, so, naturally, I didn't want to to end this precious moment.
I hummed as I felt myself drift back off into sleep, but was held back by some movement beside me. The cloud that was my bed duped slightly as someone leaned on it.
"Kyle..." I heard them whisper with a french accent. "Kyle," they said a little louder. I grunted and rolled over, away from the source of annoyance. I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder and was shook not violently, but not quite gently, either. "Broflovski! Get ze fuck up!"
I recognized the voice to be Christophe's when I finally turned to face him with a grunt. "What?"
"We are 'ere," he said. "In 'Eaven," he precised at my lost look.
"Oh yeah..." I remembered now. Me dying, going to Hell, seeing Pip and Damien, asking Satan for help...Stan confessing...
"Come, ze fucker will see you, now," he said in his gritty voice, rough from smoking since he was at least eight, probably younger.
I got up and looked back at my bed, wich turned out to be nothing more than an ordinary white bed with ordinary white sheets, not a cloud as I had earlier thought. I scolded myself for thinking something so stupid. But then... No.
Heaven wasn't all that special, really. It was mostly all white stone walls with nothing on them except for the occasional orb that served as light sources. On our way to wherever Mole was leading me, we encountered few people, and those we did sent us a warm, quite creepy smile. I immediately decided that if everyone was like this here, I prefered Hell a thousand times over. At least the souls there had some kind of decency.
We walked for a while in silence, until something crossed my mind.
"Hey, Christophe," I said.
"Hn?" he grunted, his way of saying that I had his attention.
"Can I ask a you a question?" I asked, cautiously, for whatever reason.
"Speet eet out already," he huffed.
"What do you know about Kenny?" he looked at me as if I'd asked him if I was dead. Still not quite sure, but then. "Because Pip said something about him being a frequent visitor of Hell and Satan said that he was his friend. Damien also seemed to hate him an awful lot, even though he hasn't seen him since fourth grade, I think."
"Kenny? Was 'e ze one wit' ze orange parka?" he seemed thoughful.
"Yes, him."
"Ah! Oui, bien sûr! I see 'im once een a while, but not very often." he said.
My eyes widened. "You see him here?"
"Where ze fuck else do you want me to see 'im?" he said.
"But, how? That makes no sense!" I exclaimed. "If he got to Heaven, then that means that he would have to die! But he's alive! How!?"
"Well done, génie. You figured eet out. 'E dies all ze time, zat kid. 'E was God's fuck-up, ees wrong expérience zat made eem immortel." he explained. "And before you ask 'ow, I 'ave no fucking idea." he pulled out a cigarette and light it.
"So..." I saw Mole role his eyes as he took a drag. "So, is that why he was the only one who could see me?"
"I told you, I don't know. You can ask God and maybe 'eel tell you." he pointed to the large double doors (what was it with gods and their damn doors?) that we'd stopped in front of.
He knocked three times and they swung open slowly, revealing a grand open room, barren of any decorations whatsoever and huge windows that let the light stream in. Tall pillars of white stone held up the roof that was so far up, I couldn't see it. At the very end of the room, there was a kind of white, very fluffy futon upon wich rested a strange animal. It looked like a hippo with crooked teeth on a fat cat's body and a long tail that waved in the air slowly, lazy.
I had to dig very far in my memories to know what it was. After some long minutes, all the while walking forwards with Mole, I finally realized that what I was seeing was no animal, but God himself.
"Holy fuck," I breathed.
Mole turned to me and smirked. "My thoughts exactly."
"Hello, Christophe." God said, his deep voice booming in the huge room. "I see that you've brought The One, as he had requested."
He smiled in my direction and I immediately liked the guy. He seemed like a really laid back and relaxed guy, as if nothing bothered him in the least. I guess you learn that when you manage the world you created.
"Yes, 'e ees 'ere." The Mole said. "Now, eef you'll excuse me, I 'ave other sheet to attend to." he turned to me, his cigarette hanging in his lips and he put a hand on my shoulder. "Bonne chance, Kyle. I'll see you some time." and he walked to the exit, his feathered wings stretched out behind him.
I watched him go, facinated, until God reclaimed my attention. "So, what brings you here, Kyle?" he had the ghost of a smile on his lips, as if he already knew the answer. And he probably did.
"Well, I... You see..." I stuttered. How the fuck are you supposed to ask God to send you back to life? You can't! Not indirectly! So I went straight in, thinking, what the fuck do I have to loose? I'm already dead. "I would like to come back to life." There, I got it out!
He looked at me carefully, is gaze calculating. I shifted nervously while he thought, not really knowing how this is going to go. It could go either way: either he sent me back to life, we're I could live again with Stan, my family and my friends; or I could end up back in Hell, where I belong. Ha, I guess Cartman was right when he said that Jews went to Hell when the died. Right now, I kinda miss the fat bastard, with all his shit about Jews. Wow. Never thought that would cross my mind, never in a million years. Kind of disturbing when I dwell on it, but I guess death can do amazing things to someone.
I really do hope God will send me back. If he does, I'll be able to jump into Stan's arms and tell him all of the feelings I've kept pent up for years. It would be liberating and-and... I lack the words to describe the feeling it would give me.
Please God, send me back, I silently pleaded.
After what felt like agonizing hours, the Man (man?) finally spoke up. I stopped my fidgeting and devoted all my attention to his words.
"Well, I think I have something to offer you." he spoke slowly and pronounced each word carefully. "Since, in the Prophecy, it only says that The One with the Three Curses must die and his soul must remain as such for the protection to truly be eternal, I can send you back," I felt my heart leap out of my chest with a sudden burst of hope. "But!" Aww fuck, there it goes, the condition that will damn me back to Hell. "In order to do that, one soul must take your place."
"What?!" I exclaimed.
"Someone must take your place, Kyle, so that you may live again. Such is the condition. The decision is up to you: take it or leave it."
"But-but..." my voice died in my throat.
"Christophe!" he shouted. "Come escort Kyle to his quarters!" the said angel appears at his side.
He took my arm and was leading me to the doors, my thoughts reeling, when God called out. "Remember, Kyle, no one is perfect; we've all made mistakes." and Mole whisked me out with a huff of smoke.
He led me to my quarters and I seemed to breathe again as I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Christophe left me and the words stuck in my head, playing on repeat like a broken record. No one is perfect, we all make mistakes... Why would he tell me that? Of course no one is perfect, only God is... unless...
My earlier conversation with Mole came back to mind. He said that Kenny was God's fuck-up, his wrong experiment. With what the Lord told me when I left and my old friends words, did that mean that the only way I was going to go back was through killing Kenny? Would I be willing and desperate enough to live again to rob someone else of their life?
Wait, wait. Didn't they say that Kenny had been to Heaven and Hell quite a few times? If I killed him, what difference would it make? He'd just come back after. But then, he would have to take my place, so would that mean that he'd stay dead? If so, then I won't do it, I couldn't kill a friend for my own selfish reasons. But then my family and friends... No! What am I thinking!? I must have been dead for too long, 'cause my thoughts have gone a bit awry. But then again, this whole thing was fucked up.
But what if... what if there was a way to kill Kenny, without really killing him? Like having him die and then reviving him, his soul gone just long enough to fool the universe into reseting him. Would that work? And what would be the consequences? Why-
I stopped myself from thinking any further; I was giving myself a headache. I shook my head and ran a hand through my hair. I went over to my bed and lay down, intending to sleep on my problems and hopefully have some answers by morning.
I close my eyes and let myself drift off into my dream realm
...
I felt warm all around me, wrapping me like a blanket that protected me from the horrible and cruel world that waited to snare me in it's sharp claws. I snuggled closer to that warmth, not wanting to open my eyes for fear of finding myself back in... I don't know where, I just don't want this to end.
I felt a hand slide softly up my arm, making its way to my hair, where it stayed to play with one of the curls. I wondered briefly who was behind me but I reasoned that it didn't matter so long as they made me feel like this. If only I could do this with him...
I felt the person behind me shift a little and warm kisses were planted in the crook of my neck and move down slowly to my shoulder.I hummed apreciatively and smiled as I turned to maybe get a look at them.
They felt me shift and loosened their grip on me and I faced them, my eyes still closed. When I cracked open my lids, I saw a deep blue saphire gaze looking right back at me. I gasped and he just smiled.
"Bet you didn't think of finding me here, did you?"
"I-I... No." I stammered. Of course not, I didn't think of finding him anywhere anymore, never mind here...
"Where are we, anyway?" I asked, hating that I couldn't name this place.
"Does it matter?" he arched a brow. "We're together, and that's all that matters to me."
"Yeah," I agreed with a smile.
My gaze traveled from his eyes down his sweet, boyish features that made every girl in school moon at him, to his lips. I stared at them, looking so soft and inviting, a split second before pressing mine to them.
I stayed that way for a while, until I realized what I'd done. "Oh shit sorry!" I backed away but he brought me back and captured my mouth before I could say any more.
I lay frozen, then melted into the kiss. Oh, how this felt so right. His warm lips moved against mine gently, then with more fervor as I brought my hand to cup his cheek. He brushed his tongue on my bottom lip, asking for permission to enter. I allowed him access and we battled for dominance, me eventually giving in.
He broke the embrace to push me onto my back and straddle me. He bent down again and trailed kisses along my jaw, down my neck, until he found a particularly sensitive spot and latched on. His hands rode up my shirt and caressed my skin, sending chills down my spine. His fingers found one of my nipples and I arched my back as he toyed with it.
"You don't know how long I've waited to do this to you," he whispered. "The years of torture, how much it hurt to never be more than just a friend."
"I know," I whispered back. "I know exactly how you felt. I've waited for this for so long, too."
He lifted his head and we locked gazes, saphire into emerald, his raven hair partly hiding his brilliant orbs.
"I..." he trailed continued on, mouthing words that I couldn't hear.
"What?"
He arched an eyebrow. "I said..." once again, his words were lost.
The world around me started to fade and his figure was being erased slowly. I tried to grab on to him but my hands passed through him.
"No!" I cried. "No no no! I don't want you to go! Stay please!" I tried to hold him back, in vain.
At last, he smiled and I heard him. "Don't lose hope."
And he was gone.
...
My eyes opened up to my quarters in Heaven. My cheek felt wet and I wiped the tears that were falling.
He was there, in my arms, holding me close, and then he was suddenly ripped away. It was just a a dream, I knew, but it felt so real and I wanted that feeling back; the warm and safe feeling that came from being in the arms of the one you loved. I'd never known that with anybody else than with him for the few times that it happened by 'accident'. I'd secretly enjoyed those times, even though I thought that I was the only one. I now knew that he did, too, and the thought pleased me to no ends.
I knew what I had to do now.
...
I walked down the halls of Heaven in hope of finding someone that could help me. All the passersby just smiled their overly happy and creepy smiles and moved on about their business. I felt like I was in a horror movie where everyone is always too happy and end up being part of a cult and kill every non-believer on earth. Stupid, yes I know, but I have my reasons.
Finally, oh, finally a familiar face! I saw Christophe by one of the many huge windows that lined the halls, smoking while he looked outside at the kingdom. He had an expression of distaste when I aproached him but his gaze lit up a bit at my sight.
"Christophe! I need your help!" I said.
"Hm?" he grunted. "Wit' wat?"
"I need to go back to the surface! I know what I have to do to get back." I implored.
"Care to explain zis grand plan of yours?" he asked.
So I did. I explained what God told me to do if I wanted to live again and what my plans were to get there. He listened all the while without a word, occasionally taking a long drag from his cigarette. By the time I was finished, he finished the first and was almost done the third.
"So you want to kill Kenny so zat you can live again?"
"Yes! Well, not exactly kill him, per say, just, maybe... trick the universe into thinking he's dead." I clarified.
His expression was one of complete confusion, but he nodded nonetheless. "I'll 'elp you, so long as zer is no guard dogs." he shuddered. "I fucking 'ate guard dogs."
"Don't worry," I smiled reassuringly. "No dogs whatsoever will be involved. Except maybe Saprky." His eyes widened. "But he's too old to even bark when somebody's at the door." I hurried to add.
He sighed in relief. "Let's go, zen. I don't 'ave all day."
He put a hand on my shoulder as I thanked him and my vision went black.
...
I woke in front of Kenny's house, on the unkempt front yard. I looked around for any sign of the Mole, but none were to be found. I got up from the ground and brushed myself off by habit. I scowled at my condition and walked up to the front door. It took all of my strength to knock on the door. It seemed that the longer I was dead, the less contact I could make with the living world.
A moment later, Kenny's mom, Carol, answered the door. Of course, she couldn't see me, so I took my chance to slip in before she closed the entrance after seeing no one there.
Inside, Stuart was sitting on the couch, smoking and sipping a can of beer. Carol joined him a moment later and lit a cigarette of her own. She replied with a simple "no one" when he asked her who was at the door. They were watching a stupid TV reality show and I figured Kenny must be in his room, because he hates those kinds of shows.
I walked down the hall to Kenny's room and once again knocked. Only once, this time, I was getting kind of tired. He opened up almost as soon as my hand left the cheap wood. He stared at me, stunned for a minute and then smiled.
I smiled back and he made way for me to enter. He waited until the door was safely shut and bolted before speaking.
"Hey dude!" he greeted.
"Hey!" I said back.
"Long time no see."
"Yeah. How long has it actually been?" I asked, genuinely curious. I knew time flew when you were dead.
"Been about a month since I saw you last. We're Saturday, in case you're wondering," he added after a moment of reflexion. He moved to the bed and sat down, patting the space next to him for me. I sat beside him and I almost felt pike everything was back to normal. Almost.
"Oh shit," I whispered. "How's Stan been?"
"Pretty well, as far as loosing your best friend goes. Your family's copping good, especially your mom, which is really surprising. She's even gone off another of her famous crusades, about heavy metalusic being bad for America's youth or some shit. I've been fine, too, thanks for asking," he smirked.
"Sorry," I said sheepishly. "I'm not worried about you: you won't do anything stupid like turn goth forever or drink yourself into a coma. Stan, though, is an other question."
"Yeah, but he's been fine. Got out of his goth stage for the most part, though the black clothes and heavy music stayed. He stopped smoking and doesn't drink as much as in the beginning. I've been watching him. Hell, even Cartman has." he added, a bit bewildered himself that fatass would look out for anyone aside from himself.
"Huh, guess he does care about us, even if it's only to rip on us all the time." I remarked starkly.
Kenny chuckled. "Yeah... So. How's Hell been?" he asked, grinning a bit.
"It's not that bad actually. Think I like it better than Heaven, even," I said. I then told him about my week or so in Hell and then about my time in Heaven. I told him about Pip and Damien and Mole, when he asked for news of them. I talked about how I got to visit both places in one same death (as Kenny has only ever done it once, or so he says).
Then came the tricky part. I carefully explained to him my plan to come back to life. He listened in silence, the usual mirth and energy gone from his eyes, replaced with something graver and heavier. He watched me carefully the entire time I spoke, taking in my words and analyzing them meticulously.
"So what do you think?" I asked when I was done. "Will you help me?" I looked at him, silently pleading him as though my survival depended on him. Which it kind of did, in a twisted, fucked-up way.
He opened his mouth to say something and closed it after, his expression calculating. He dis it a few more times and I was starting to shift in my seat until I finally got up and began to pace around the room. I didn't want to rush him and blow my only chance of getting back to life.
Ok, it's over, I'm staying this way forever! I thought. He's gonna say no and I'm gonna have to wait for Stan to die so that we can be to together and then-
"How..." Kenny cut my line of thought as he dragged out the word. "How, exactly, are you going to 'kill' me?" his words were slow and calculated and his expression; unreadable.
"Well," I began, racking my brain for an idea. I hadn't exactly thought of that. "Uh, well... You remember that time we went to the rainforest in third grade and how you got hit by lightning and didn't stay dead 'cause that girl saved you?" I looked at him and his features still hadn't changed. Shit, he could be fucking serious when he wanted, not at all like the Kenny he usually is. It was kind of intimidating, come to think of it. I looked away and continued. "I thought that if we get you to get hit by lighting or something like that, we could revive you after you've been dead long enough to reset the universe."
"I was dead, yes, before she saved me that day. Fucking hurt, too, when I came back." He said.
He stayed silent for a long while and I started to pace again, my thoughts running wild. I tried to keep them in check and resist the urge to tell him to say something, but it was too much.
"Say-"
"I'll do it"
"-something! Wait what?" I stared at him.
"I said 'I'll do it'" he smiled a shit eating grin.
I looked at him in disbelief as I understood his words. "You'll do it? Really?"
"Yeah," his grin was replaced by a genuine smile. "Your my friend and I help my friend. Besides, it's not only you but your family and other friends, too, that I'm helping."
"Kenny," I went to put a hand on his shoulder but refrained. "You cannot know how much this means to me. Really, you truly are the best friend a guy can have. How can I thank you?"
"Well, I could think of a few ways..." he bounced his eyebrows.
"Aw, awww! No way dude! Sick!" I backed away dorm him in a rush.
"Why not?" he pouted and feigned hurt.
"Because you're a guy and that would be fucking gay."
"Stan's a guy, too, you know," he pointed out.
"I kno-" I cut myself off. "He's different," I said instead and looked away from the blonde.
"I was kidding, dude, don't worry. I'm not like that," he winked. "Just keep me from dying after this whole thing is done. Otherwise, I think I'll stay dead next time I go." he chuckled lightly.
I grinned and promised I would. We made up a plan as to how this whole thing will be organised. We did that for the rest of the evening and when I left, I headed over to Stan's house. He was part of the plan and I had to talk him into it. Well, 'talk' was big word, but, hey.
It wasn't quite dark yet, the sun just beginning to set over the mountains. I stopped in the street and listened to what was around me. The birds were singing their last songs for the day, the trees gently sawing in the breeze that carried the music to my ears. I thought I could feel the wind against my face, though that was most likely my imagnation. I heard people putting their stuff away and getting ready to retire for the night, or have supper. Whichever.
I felt a pang in my chest as I observed the scene. I should be doing all that, too. Though I've only been gone for about a month, from what Kenny told me, I still fucking miss it. I never thought I'd say this, but I kind of miss my mom yelling at me to do aomething, my brother making some sort of smart ass remark about some stupid thing, my dad giving me a piece of advice about something that I don't necessarily want to know, Stan dicking around with me while we played video games, even Cartman calling me a fucking Jew... the list could go on forever.
I guess it's like they say: You don't know what you've got until it's gone.
And now that I know what I had, I fucking want it back, and I'm going to do anything to get it back.
I start walking again and I find myself in front of Stan's house. The lights are on in the dining room, so I figure that they're having diner. As I know them so well, I go to the back yard and wait by the patio door. If they stay true to their habits, Randy and Stan will come out and have a beer and talk. Yes, he is only seventeen, but his parents are cool and it's not like Stan's an alcoholic or anything, okay?
I wait in the snow ('cause I don't get cold anymore) until the sun has set and the stars are starting to show themselves. True to my word, the two afore mentioned Marsh's come out with a beer in hand each. I seize my chance to go in before they close the sliding glass doors and I turn in time to see them grab chairs and settle down.
I look at them in longing as I wanted to join them as I sometimes did, of course with the utmost secrecy from my parents. Only God knows what they would do should they find out that their son was drinking with his best friend and his father, nonetheless. I shook my head and moved up to Stan's room. I passed Sparky on the way in the living room, and he raised his head lazily to acknowledge my presence. At least someone in this house could see me.
Thankfully, Stan had left his door open for the world to see. (Strange how things worked in my favor very often, since I've been gone.) I walk in and settle down at his desk, thinking of what I was going to say to him and, more importantly, how I was going to say it.
I looked around his bedroom for a way as I thought. How would I say it? Say Stan, will you help me kill Kenny so that I can live again? No, that was a little too straight forward. But then, he was never one to take subtle hints very well. I knew from experience that you really did have to spell out what you meant most of the time. Like back in tenth grade, when a girl was hitting on him and he'd seemed too thick to see it for what it was. He just just thought she was very friendly and overly physical with people. That's all. Being the good friend that I was, I didn't like that she was around him so much and then told him what was going on. And him, being the sweet and compassionate person that he was, gently told her that he wasn't interested. She'd never spoken to him afterwards, goody for me. I thought that she was a total slut and a bitch of a person, one that I certainly didn't want around Stan.
I laugh. Thinking back on that incident now makes me realize that I was afraid that she would steal him away from me, that I was in fact jealous of her, strangely.
Finally, my eyes land on an old ouija board sitting in the corner of his room, pulled under a bunch of other board games that were collecting dust. I smilled. There was my means of communication.
I didn't have time to think of exactly what I would say to Stan, when he came in his room and closed the door.
Indeed, he looked somewhat better than the last time I saw him. He looked clean, as if he'd taken a shower not long ago. The smell of his bodywash proved my point as he walked past me to slump on his bed, face down in the pillows. He was still dressed in dark clothes, along the shades of grey and black, and his cross earing was still in place. I got up from my seat and he turned onto his back, letting out a long sigh. He'd gotten rid of that awful eyeliner that had lined his saphire eyes. His gaze, however, was still hollow. I could tell that he still hurt, and I felt guilty.
He was hurting because of me. And that hurt me more than anything, because I'd never do anything to cause that. I shook my head and told myself that it wasn't my fault, that I hadn't jumped into Stark's Pond on purpose, that it was God's will. Ha! I soud just like a crazy person, don't I? Hey, you know that it's the truth, though.
I walked over to the pile of games and gathered my force to knock over the first box. It's contents spilled onto the floor and it definitely caught my friend's attention. He sat up in his bed and looked at where the game of Scrabble lay spread out. His brow furrowed and he frowned. I took my chance under his gaze and nudged the ouija box.
I saw his eyes go wide as he whispered, "Kyle?"
I nudged the box again in response and he got up and grabbed the game. He set it up so that we could use it.
I smirked. I'd always mocked Stan for buying such things like this, always told him that it was useless, that past experience had taught us that we could see ghosts just fine without the help of a stupid board game. Never knew that I'd be the ghost using it one day.
"Kyle," he said and looked in front of him, at the other side of the board where I was sitting. "Please tell me if this really is you."
I used the cursor thingy to indicate that, yes, it was indeed me. He closed his eyes, smiled and breathed a heavy sigh. "Oh, thank God."
I took the thing again and pointed to the "No" and set out to tell him "Don't thank him, lazy fucker."
"What? Okay... if you say so," he chuckled. "Hey, are you sitting in front me?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied.
"Good. Wouldn't want to make an ass of myself by talking to the air."
"Thankfully, no one can see you talking to the air, asshat," I pointed out.
He laughs and it was the most wonderful sound that I've heard in ages. How I've missed him.
"So, is it true that Jews go to Hell?" he asked.
"Yes, Cartman, I went to Hell." I snapped and he mocked hurt. "Don't ever tell him I went, though, 'cause I will haunt you for the rest of your life if you do."
He chuckled again and says that he wouldn't mind, so long as he got to talk to me all the time.
We continued this way for a while, talking of everything and nothing, just for old times sake. After a bout of laughter, he tells me something, that since I was dead, I might as well know now. He tells me about a dream that he had, where he and I were together again. How he'd final gotten to kiss me and how it felt so right, so real. Then how it all came to an end too soon, how he was taken away.
I sat there, utterly shocked. I'd has the exact same dream with him. I told him this and he seemed to look me straight in the eyes.
"What?" was all he said.
I explained it again and than added, "Call Kenny. Put him on speaker phone and ask him about my plan."
"The fuck...? Okay, I'll call him..." he looked troubled and confused as he grabbed his phone from the nightstand and dialed the blonde's number.
We heard it ring three times before a, "Hey, man. 'S up?"
"Kyle just told me to call you and ask about his 'plan'." See? Not one for subtlety, my Stan. "Care to explain?"
"Yeeah...That..." He said. "Get comfortable, this is gonna be long. Or no, wait. I'll be over in five." and he hung up.
Stan looked at the phone, stunned into silence. He spoke about a minute later, asking, "What the fuck is this plan of yours, dude?"
I indicated with the board that he wait, that Kenny would help explain in a minute. He nodded and we settled to wait. I was glad Kenny was coming over, I was getting tired of pushing the stupid cursor thingy around to speak with Stan. It was tiring, you know.
I took this time to watch Stan a bit. He was deep in thought, his face scrunched in a pensive way, his shoulders slumped as though he carried a heavy weight already. I took time to admire his features and feel a jab of something in my chest. I wish I was back in that dream with Stan, where everything was okay.
"Dude, stop staring at me," he suddenly said, making me jump. "It's creepy."
"I wasn't staring!" I said indignantly.
"Yes you were, don't try to deny it, dickface." he smirked.
"Oh, fuck you, asshole." I spat, not angry at all.
"With pleasure," he said and his grin widened with a blush to accompany it.
I did the same and laughed with him. We knew echother so well that we didn't need to hear what the other was saying to know what he saying.
I was startled by the sound of a knock at the door and Kenny entering and moment later to find us un our original places either side of the board.
"Hey dudes," he greeted as he sat cross-legged on the bed.
"Hey Ken," we repled in unison.
"So Kyle told you about the plan, huh?"
"Yeah," Stan said in a strangely flat voice. "Now that you're here, explain."
"Okay, okay, calm down a sec, I just got here," he held out his hands in a defensive manner.
"Just say it, Kenny," I sighed. "Not in the mood for bullshit, right now."
"Alright fine! Don't get your panties up in a wad!" he exclaimed and Stan looked puzzled, for he asked,
"You can see him?"
"Yeah. Now shut up and you'll know why later. So it goes like this..."
He explained my story, me correcting things here and there (because Kenny is Kenny and this can get distorted sometimes with him) and the blonde acting as my mouth piece. He listened with all of his attention as we did so, he even kept himself from asking any questions. I could tell that it was bugging the living Hell out of him, to stay silent like that for so long, but I could also tell that we were answering his inquiries as we went along. By the time we had finished, the digital clock on the nightstand indicated that it was now nine o' clock and the moon was shining bright outside through the window.
He paused when we were done. I could tell he was chewing on his thoughts, trying to make sens of what he'd just learned. Finally, he voiced what he was thinking, to be sure he'd heard right, no doubt.
"So let me get this straight. You, Kyle, have spoken to Satan and God in order to know why you mysteriously threw yourself in Stark's Pond. And that was because of a stupid prophecy that Cartman could have written and you asked God if he could give you life again. He said that Kenny was his fuck-up experiment gone wrong and you had the brilliant idea to kill him by striking him with lightning, then revive him, to reset the universe and send you back to the living world. That would be undoubtedly very painful for Kenny and yet he agreed to do it. The only part missing in this whole thing is me, so that I can revive Kenny when he gets hit."
"Well summarized, Stan!" Kenny clapped. "So are you in?"
"Kyle, why are you doing this?" he asked. "In all of your story, you never mentioned why you wanted to come back."
I looked at my blonde friend very seriously and said to him only, "You promise not to laugh, snicker, change my words for anything that might make me pass as stupid, even if you might find extremely stupid what I'm about to say."
"I swear," he promised solemnly.
I nodded and began. All the while I was talking, I watched my raven haired friend, gauging his reactions. I talked about my family first and he seemed as though he felt what I was feeling and he understood. I talked about our friendship and how it was special and more precious to me than anything else and how I couldn't wait until he died so that we might be together again. Then, when I told him about myself, his expression went to stone, completely still. I thought that since I had started down this road, I might as well see it through and see what's at the end. He had professed his love for me before I left for Hell, after all. I was curious to see what would come of this. Kenny was, too, by the way he kept looking at me and then at Stan.
He blinked a few times at the end, clearly shocked. He smiled and his eyes were shining from the held-back tears he was holding, as he said, "Yes. Yes, I'll help you. Of course I would, no matter what. We're super best friends, right?"
I let out a huge sigh of relief that I didn't even know I was holding. I laughed a little and went over to hug him, but refrained from doing so. Because being dead fucking sucks, especially when you know that the person you love loves you back and you can't fucking kiss them because your fucking dead. Fuck.
Kenny relayed my grunt of frustration into words and we began planning how we'll do this. Kenny said that there was to be a huge storm tomorrow night and that there might be a chance of lightning. We elaborated our plan well into the night and it was about three in the morning when we were done and Kenny left.
It was just me and Stan now, with a damn Wejya board as our only ways of communication.
"Welp," he yawned. "I'm beat. You sleep? You know, 'cause of of how you are and all..."
"Yes, I still sleep," I replied.
"Oh. Well, uh, do you wanna sleep in, uh, my bed?"
"Sure!"
I loved sleeping in Stan's bed. Most of the time, when we had sleepovers (yes, at ages sixteen and seventeen, we still had sleepovers every Friday, so fuck you), I usually slept there. There was a certain comfort that wasn't in mine and it smelled of Stan, the best smell in the world, if you ask me. Yeah, yeah, it's fucking gay, I know. But you can't deny the truth, can you?
He changed before getting into bed, giving me a nice view of his body (football had really done wonders to him, with tan skin, washboard abbs, muscled arms) and I soon followed suite. He saw the dip in the mattress and seemed a bit uncomfortable at the sight of my body's outline when he couldn't really see me.
"Well, at least I know for sure where you are," he said and lay down to face me.
I laughed and did the same. I fell aslleep deeply wishing that it could be like in our dream.
...
Rainclouds were gathering, the storm was brewing in the distance and it gave the day a morose and dark feeling. We gathered the things we'd need for today (well, Stan and Kenny gathered, I just watched and made the ocasional comment that Kenny would say aloud for Stan to hear) and we picked a spot on a hill for the evening. We chose a spot that was secluded but close enough to the town so that the paramedics could get there quickly when the need be. I made sure that Stan still knew how to revive and keep somebody alive 'till the medics come. Satisfied with his CPR skills, we went up to the hill and set up our stuff. I really hoped that this would work and that the storm would be big enough to have lightning.
It was late after noon when the rain started to fall. We'd set everything so as to attract as much lighting as possible, but so far, there was nothing but cold rain and very strong winds. No one was outside and those who did see us looked at us like we were crazy, wich, in a way, we were. We waited, waited, waited and waited some more until it was getting dark out. I was beginning to lose hope, for we hadn't even seen one flash in the sky.
It was with some regret that Stan announced that they would have to pack up, otherwise, the would all end up dead, frozen from the wind and rain. In town, we trudged along the sidewalks in misery and disapointement, heading home to get warm (not for me, though).
Suddenly, a huge "Crack!" was heard behind us. We turned just in time to see an electrical pole come crashing down. A live wire whippped out and hit Kenny on the right side of his chest, the opposite of his heart, thankfully. He fell to the ground and we rushed forwards to see his condition. Stan immediately called 911 and began CPR.
Indeed, the blonde was dead, electrocuted, as Stan pumped his chest and gave him mouth to mouth (much to my displeasure, as it was much like kissing, but compromises had to be made if I wanted to live again). Soon the paramedics were on site and all attention was in Kenny. I felt hope flare in my chest.
They pushed Stan out of the way, thanking him briefly, and then took out a defibrillator and zapped him a few times with it. Ironic, no? He just got electrocuted and they were shocking him to revive him. They moved about me, through me at times, even, wich was quite disturbing, until the blonde's back arched and he gasped.
He sat up and coughed a few times and the medics were all over him. By now, we'd gathered a crowed around us and they were clapping in joy that no one had died. I felt a little light-headed by now, as they were strapping Kenny on a bed. While they loaded him onto the truck, he caught sight of Stan standing next to me and gave us both a wink. My vision blurred. I tried to speak, but a sudden nausia took over me and I fell back, the world spinning.
Then, everything went white.
Yay! End of chapter three! Fear not, chers lecteurs, for this is not the last one. There is still one after this one that will mark the end of Kyle's quest for life. As I said above, thanks for the reviews. Also, I would love to add some more names to that list in the next chapter, so be kind and leave a comment :)
As usual, flammes will be used to keep me warm (as I do live in the Kingdom of the North (a.k.a. Canada)).
Jane!
-Miriala-