Disclaimer: South Park and all characters in it are copyright Matt Stone and Trey Parker, not me.
A/N:
So, we move further along into the story. It's actually not quite as far from the end as I thought it would be, but that's probably because until this chapter, I've been looking at it in the now and not focusing on the end and when it will get here.
My "P" keyboard key is constantly in danger of flying off of the keyboard. The little peg that holds it on is broken. And it is All. Because. Of. This. Story.
I find that funny.
I don't think I have ever updated a story this frequently and this consistently, and I thank you reviewers for it.
Notes:
There are a lot of things going on that are creating more questions than answers. Not all questions will be answered, or can be answered. Some of you have put forth your own theories of things, and I love it. I love it so much, so if you have a theory to put forth, go ahead! I'd love to see how you are all understanding this, and I encourage you to take this story apart into little itty bitty pieces and put it back together.
Thank you to:
Hot Monkey Brain
Wishmaster Kami
Thequillofdestiny
BrokenGlassNinja
Fancee
FightinIrish
Chapter six calls for AT LEAST six reviews! You all know the drill. :3 Heh.. heh… IT'S THE OCD I SWEAR.
Title: Pink
Author: Zoshi the Confused
Rating: Ranging, mostly PG-PG13
Category: South Park
Genre: Angst/eventual tragedy
May contain: Shounen-Ai/Boy Love, Violence, Adult Situations, Swearing
It was cold all of a sudden. I shifted slightly, the covers moving softly over the naked skin of my back. A dull ache in the back of my head did its best to remind me of last night. Last night. I cracked open an eye, getting a close up view of dark sheets. Not black, but close. I frowned; this wasn't my bed. With a grimace I turned over to my side, looking around. One good thing, there was a significant lack of bright light even though I was pretty sure the sun should be up by now; my eyes were thankful for it all the same. The wall across from me was painted black; definitely not my room. There was an antique looking dresser, with heavy clawed feet, standing against it. The room was dark, the bed sheets were dark, and there was a heavy smell of incense and smoke in the room.
I sat up quickly, my head giving a feeble whirl. Last night, the party, everything after the party. Red. I ran my fingers through my messy hair, rubbed my face. I still had my pants on, I noticed, and my boots were off. And I seemed to be alone. I swung my legs off the edge of the bed, sat there looking around for a long moment. It wasn't surprising that I'd done something stupid like that when I'd been drinking; I do stupid stuff all the time when I'm drinking. I felt bad; I felt like a coward. There's coming out, and then there's blubbering your way out after too many beers. One leaves no room for doubt; the other makes it all too easy to get up and walk away as if nothing had ever been there.
All too easy. Much too easy. Easy enough that if I panicked I just might make that choice. I shook my head, trying to get it to stop the buzzing in my ears. It would be easy to walk away from it all. Just put on my shirt, put on my coat and boots, get up, get out, and never look back. No one would be the wiser. No one would have to know, ever. I shook, looking around for my shirt. It would be easy to forget it all, until the next beer binge at least. Until the next time someone else just wouldn't work. I stared down at my boots, standing next to the bed, thinking. Trying to think. I could remember his eyes, I could remember the way he touched me, the way he moved. I could remember more, if I focused.
The door opened suddenly. I looked up as Red walked in slowly, closing the door behind him. His gaze was on the floor, and when he looked up he seemed surprised to find me sitting on the bed. For a short moment his eyes held mine, and then he was looking just slightly off, somewhere above my right shoulder. He was wearing a dark gray hoodie with a large black widow stenciled across the left side. It was such a stereotypical goth shirt I could've smiled, and I would have if the atmosphere in the room hadn't suddenly gotten so tense.
"You were going to the party last night…" I said. It wasn't a question. It suddenly made sense, somehow. "You never go to the parties."
There was a long bit of silence.
"It's almost ten. You probably have to go home," Red said finally. I wondered if that was what he wanted. I was trying to meet his eyes but he was doing a good job avoiding it.
"I could do that. I could just get up, and leave." I said, watching him closely. His face was carefully blank; I couldn't tell what he was thinking. "I could leave."
Perfect silence again.
I stood up finally, and slowly walked over to him. His eyes slid away from me towards the side. I stopped a foot or so away, I didn't want to push my luck.
"You probably should," He said, still doing a fine job of avoiding my gaze.
"Should I?" I asked, softly. I was starting to feel empty already; starting to feel lonely. Red didn't seem to want to answer the question, focusing on some spot to the side.
He was giving me an opening, I realized. He was giving me the chance to walk away and pretend this never happened. All of this never happened. A chance to bury it in the back of my mind and never bring it into daylight again.
I couldn't understand; he was distant again. Detached. I couldn't see even a fragment of emotion on his face, or in his eyes. He was acting colder than I'd seen in a long, long time.
His wall was back up, I realized suddenly.
Just as suddenly, I realized I had never been planning on taking that chance, anyway. I felt bad that it had to come out the way it did. I wished I had been able to deal with things differently, to deal with things the way they should be dealt with, without alcohol hanging its cloud of doubt over everything. Would I have done the same thing without alcohol in my system, lowering my inhibitions? Maybe, if I'd been put in the right spot at the right time. I just never seemed to be able to put myself in that spot at that time necessary for it to happen. Or, maybe, I shied away from those sorts of moments precisely because I knew what I would do, and I was scared of what it meant, and what it insinuated.
That was the past. That was over.
"Tell me to go, then," I said, still as softly as before. "Tell me to leave, and forget about everything. If that's what you want, then tell me."
"If that's what I want?" Red turned his eyes towards me then, voice wavering slightly. It seemed I caught him off guard; he seemed to have been expecting something else.
"That's how you're acting," I said, trying not to sound as if all my hope was gone, since it wasn't. Not yet.
"I…" He started, hesitated. Uncertainty flickered through his eyes. "I hate sports, all of them… and they ended up making me write for football exclusively."
"Because you never missed a game for the last two seasons," I added after he stopped, smiling gently. His face softened slightly, losing some of its apathetic hardness. I reached out, brushed his bangs out of his eyes. I still couldn't figure out what color they were, but it didn't matter. His eyeliner was smeared, his hair was a mess, and it was obvious by the dark smudges under his eyes he hadn't gotten a lot of sleep the night before. He looked amazing.
"Probably," He said, his voice growing softer. He wasn't taking his eyes off of mine, and he didn't seem to mind when I brushed my fingers through the rest of his hair and let my hand rest at the back of his head. More silence, again, but the tension in the air was a little different this time.
"I like you," My voice came out a lot quieter than I had anticipated, shaking a little tiny bit at the end. I needed to say it. I needed to hear myself say it. I need him to hear me say it. "I like you. A lot."
I saw the spark go through him, light his eyes as it sent his wall crashing down. The distance in his eyes was gone; the bare edges of his lips curved into the slightest of smiles.
"I don't want you to forget," He said softly. I could feel his hands on my waist, his fingers on my bare skin. I grinned, stepping forward to press my forehead against his, to feel his breath against my face as he continued, "I don't want you to forget anything, Stan. I don't want to let you go…"
I pressed my lips against his, felt his arms wrap around me as he pushed up against me. His fingers played across my skin, and I shivered, wrapping the arm not currently engaged in tangling up his hair around his body. I sucked at his bottom lip, ran my tongue along it until he opened his lips eagerly, our tongues meeting, twisting around each other. I pulled back just a moment, just long enough to shove him back against the wall, just long enough to look into his half-lidded eyes before I kissed him again, deep and fierce, felt his fingers dig into my back as he rocked his body against mine.
****
Eleven o'clock found me strolling up the sidewalk towards Clyde's house, whistling a happy little tune. The sun was out, but dark clouds were hanging on the horizon. Snowy storm clouds; there was going to be massive snow before nightfall, along with crazy winds. You could feel it in your bones; the air just seemed to weigh you down. A snowstorm meant sitting around at home all evening doing nothing, but I couldn't feel bad about it. Suddenly, everything was looking brighter around me.
I found my car where I'd left it, almost alone in front of Clyde's house. I recognized Token's BMW standing near the door; he was either helping get the house back in order or still crashed out on the living room couch. I was wondering whether I should go down to the house to see if the guys were still there, but decided to get to the car and run the heater for a bit before I did. It was sunny, but there was an icy bite to the air, and the car was probably freezing inside. I walked around the front of it, pulling my keys out of my pocket as I turned the corner, and almost fell as I tripped on something. I flung my arms out towards the car, hands slipping across the side and leaving little streaks in the snow covering its side. My fingers grabbed at the neck of the side mirror, and I barely managed to keep my grip. I really needed to start wearing gloves.
"What the hell?" I glanced down underneath me to meet glazed blue eyes staring back up at me.
"Oh, dude, you're back." Kenny grinned lazily, raising a hand to pat me on the arm he could just barely reach. "Stan's back!"
I stood up, a hand to my head as I tried to understand what the hell was going on. Kenny sat with his back to the car wheel, thigh deep in snow with his legs stretched out in front of him. Cartman was sitting next to him, legs stretched out just the same, head on the blonde's shoulders, his arms covering his face. He grumbled something angrily, and winced as he uncovered one eye to look up at me. Kyle was sprawled across both of them, head buried against Kenny's legs and arm hooked around one of the blonde's thighs.
"'ey, fag, wake up," Cartman didn't even try sitting up, and only lowered one arm to give the redhead a shove. I could hear Kyle mutter something, and he shifted position a little, arm wrapping tighter around Kenny's leg.
"You guys look… great," I said, grinning. Okay, so my head was still pounding a little, but I was pretty sure I didn't look half as bad as they did.
"Shut up, ass," Cartman said, finally making the move to shove Kyle off of him. He stood up shakily, hand to his head. "Just get in the damn car and get us home…"
I snickered slightly as I watched him stumble around the car to the passenger's side door. He tried the handle a few times, sending me a wavering glare when he realized it was still locked. I shook my head, unlocking the doors. He opened the door finally, nearly falling over as it slipped out of his grasp. With a groan he fell into the seat, pulling the door closed behind him.
"Come on, dude, Stan's gonna run us over if we don't get outta the way," Kenny was nudging Kyle gently, trying to get him to move.
"…few more minutes…" Kyle groaned, but Kenny didn't stop, and he moved finally, shoving himself up. His arms wobbled for a moment, but Kenny stood up and pulled him up with him.
"Back seat, come on," Kenny led the stumbling redhead around me to the back door. "The sooner we get home the sooner you eat something, and the sooner you eat something the sooner I let you go to bed."
"Fuck eating…" Kyle grimaced, crawling onto the back seat, "I'm not eating nothing…"
"Hypoglycemia's a bitch, Kyle," Kenny shoved him over and sat down on his half of the seat.
"All right guys, let's go," I said, sitting down in the driver's seat. The damn thing was pure ice, and I started the car quickly and turned the heater on full blast.
"Yes! YES!" Cartman leaned towards the little vent on his side, shoving his hands onto it.
"What were you guys doing outside?" I asked, turning the wipers on. Technically, I should have cleaned the window off while I was outside, but what the hell. I'd make it home.
"Everyone was fucking leaving and we couldn't find you," Cartman said, lifting a hand to turn the visor to block the sunlight coming in from the side window. "Figured we'd just wait by the car for you."
"Dude, where were you?" Kenny leaned forward, gripping the side of the driver's seat to stick his head next to me.
"Yes, Stan? Where were you?" Cartman looked over at me curiously.
"And what the fucking hell was Bebe doing trying to get in my fucking pants?" Kyle asked grumpily. Kenny frowned, turning his head towards the back slightly.
Now Cartman's curious look had taken on a shrewd edge. He'd always been one to put two and two together quickly, but I wasn't worrying too much. It would take a lot more information than he had to figure out what had really happened.
"What the hell was Bebe doing with you?" Kenny asked, eyes narrowed slightly.
"Hell if I know," Kyle answered back. I noted the faint pained strain in his voice, and looked into the rearview mirror. He was curled up on his half, or rather, two-thirds of the back seat, hands gripping the sides of his head. Each time we hit a bump he'd wince slightly.
"Looks like hogging the cooler didn't do you much good," I joked, and he glared at me, but only half-heartedly.
"Damn headache won't go away," Kyle almost whimpered, rubbing his hands on his head.
"Soon as you get food in you, you can sleep it off," Kenny promised, then turned his eyes back to me. He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped, eyes focusing on a spot somewhere below my ear. "Oh hello there mister hickey, didn't see you there before."
Cartman laughed, and I glared at him, and at Kenny, but that just made them laugh harder.
"Okay, dude, that is not a Bebe-hickey," Kenny said, reaching out a hand to touch my neck. I jerked away, trying to ignore him, and ignore the still-laughing Cartman.
"Shut up," I said, trying not to grin.
"Why weren't you in the house, Stan?" Cartman asked in a half-croon, "Did you ditch to meet up with some secret luv-aahhh?"
Kenny laughed hard at that, falling back onto his seat, and Cartman smirked at me.
"I am just not going to say anything now," I answered back, which only made them both break out into more laughter.
"Oh, this is good. This is good." Cartman rubbed his hands together, a maniacal gleam in his eyes. "I know what I'm going to be doing this week."
I was about to say something back at that, something nasty, even if I was starting to snicker along with them, when a low buzz broke through. All four of us looked around for a moment, before Kenny's face brightened with sudden realization, and he poked Kyle.
"Dude, your pants are vibrating," The blonde said, although his face darkened a bit as the words left his mouth.
"Fucking shit what the fucking hell…" Kyle muttered darkly, fumbling around in his pockets. He finally came up with his cell phone, screen flashing as the call kept coming in. With an aggravated sigh he pressed a button and put the phone up to his ear. "Yeah? Whaddya want Mom? …No… no… Yes, we're coming home right— I know!... We're taking the fu—the corner, we're turning the… I'm not! I'm not talking ba— Whatever. What?... No. No, I'm not—All right, alright? All right, you're right. Totally. Absolutely. You always are… no, I'm not being snappy—I'm not! …Fine. Bye."
I jumped, jerking the wheel, as something small and rectangular met the dashboard with a loud crack.
"Sorry…" Kyle mumbled from the back, "I was aiming for Cartman's head."
" 'ey! What the hell?" Cartman growled, turning a glare towards the backseat.
"Mom and Dad are driving Ike to that stupid science convention in Boulder right now," Kyle muttered, and I heard someone shift on the seat in back.
"Fuck, that's today?" Kenny answered back, "I forgot…"
"They'll probably stay there the night, weather's going to be pretty fucking bad later… Or something…" Kyle groaned, and I looked into the mirror to see that he was gripping his head again. Kenny had a hand on his side, looking a little concerned.
I pulled up next to Cartman's house, stopping at his driveway. He climbed out, slamming the door closed and giving a short wave before stumbling up the walkway towards the front door.
"Well, we're almost home," I said, driving down a few blocks and taking the corner, "Do you guys wanna come over for a bit?"
"Maybe later," Kenny answered, giving me a small grin I saw in the rearview mirror. I shrugged; why not, they didn't look up for anything other than crashing anyways. Pulling up to their house I drove up the driveway and watched them get out. Kyle gave me a pained grin as they walked up to the door, trying not to fall over on the slippery cement. With a wave, I backed the car out and drove the short distance down to my house.
****
I squinted in the candlelight to try and make out the watch on my wrist. It looked like it could be saying it was nine thirty. It definitely wasn't six forty five, so my first guess was probably right. I sighed, almost groaned, and brushed my fingers violently through my hair. It had been three hours since the storm winds had knocked a power line somewhere in our vicinity, and for the past three hours I had been stuck in the living room with my parents, surrounded by dozens of emergency candles and huddled around board games I could just barely remember from when I was a kid. We'd already played through Sorry and Clue about three times each, and we were now in the middle of a crazed game of Scrabble. It's harder to look up words in a dictionary when all you have is flickering candlelight to read them in; trust my dad to forget to charge the emergency flashlights we had stored. Only one still worked, and I'd left it by the front door in case we had to leave the house for some reason.
"Stan! I think I just got a triple score!" My dad's voice called from the living room, and I glanced around the kitchen desperately, trying to find anything, anything, to stall for time. Anything.
"I'll be there in a minute," I called back, starting to open cabinet doors. Snacks! I could get snacks, along with getting bowls for them. Many, many snacks. I crouched down to get a few plastic bowls from the bottom cabinets.
The phone rang suddenly, and I jumped up, dropping a bag of bagel chips. Eagerly I dashed over, grabbing at the receiver before my parents could get to the cordless in the living room.
"Hello?" I asked, trying not to sound as happy as I felt. Whoever it was, I was about ready to kiss them.
"Stan?" Kenny's voice came over the line, shaking slightly. A sudden chill shot down my back.
"Hey Kenny… something wrong?" I asked. There was a long pause on his end of the line; I heard something shifting in the background, then a sound like something being dragged over the floor.
"Stan… I need your help," Kenny said quietly, but that time I could hear it shaking. "I need… I need your help with Kyle."
"What? What happened?" I asked, cold gathering somewhere in the pit of my stomach. My eyes searched around the kitchen, landing finally on the flickering flame of the candle. It danced and sputtered feebly.
"Dammit," Kenny's voice went quite again at a clatter on his end. "Stan, just… get in your car and get over here."
"I… I can just walk…" I started, looking down at myself. I just needed my boots and my coat and I should be fine.
"Car, Stan! We need your car!" A slight note of panic shot through his words, and my skin went cold. "Just, get over here. Fast. Now."
The line went dead. I stared at the receiver in my hands for a moment, trying to get my mind to stop spinning. What the hell, what the hell… I put the receiver back on its cradle, turned and headed into the living room. My parents looked up from the tile-covered board, smiles on both of their faces.
"What's wrong, Stan?" My mom asked, her face falling slightly. I wondered if I looked as bad as I felt, and tried to force out a grin.
"Nothing, just… Kenny asked if I could come over…" I said, heading towards the front door as I talked. "Kyle and him need help with something, so I'm just gonna… you know, hop over and see what I can do."
"What? What do they need you for?" My dad asked, looking back down at the game board. He seemed a little unhappy that I was leaving without looking at his triple score, but I couldn't find it in myself to give a damn. I pulled on my boots without answering, and opened the closet to look for my coat.
"Well, all right, but call us if you plan on staying there late," My mom said, and while she smiled at me I couldn't help but think that she had read me better than I had anticipated. I gave her a grin as I pulled on my coat, patting my pockets to check that my keys were there. With a wave, I headed out the door, pulling it closed behind me. Wind was gusting strongly outside, whipping my coat's hood around my head. I grimaced, slipping a little as I hurried down to my car. Impatiently I swung my arms across the car's front and back windows; it wouldn't do me any good if I had to drive somewhere in this weather without being able to see anything. Getting in, I started it and drove down the street to Kyle's house. I pulled into the driveway, stopping at the garage, and got out, running to the door as the wind tugged at my jacket and blew snow in my face.
The door opened as I reached my hand out, and I almost fell in as another blast of wind caught me from the back. Kenny caught me, pulling me inside and leaving the door open behind me. I glanced at him, about to say something, ask something, but he shoved a large rechargeable flashlight into my hands and motioned for me to follow him. I did, leaving a trail of melting snow across the carpeting in the front room as we headed for the stairs. I was shining the flashlight ahead of me as I went; Kenny didn't seem to need it but I didn't want to risk falling on my face.
Kenny stopped suddenly at the top of the stairs, turning to look at me. His eyes were wide, his breathing fast. There were dark smudges on one side of his face, and down one side of his hoodie. He put a hand on my shoulder, eyes serious.
"Stan. We have to take Kyle to the hospital," He said, slowly and obviously trying to keep his voice controlled. I frowned at him; I couldn't understand. "The hospital. You have to drive us there, Stan. You have to help me get him in the car and drive us there, okay?"
"…What the hell happened, Kenny?" I croaked, barely able to get the words out of my mouth. His breath shuddered, his hand gripped my shoulder tightly.
"Get us to the hospital. I'll… I'll explain later," Kenny gave my shoulder a pat, then turned away and led on further down the hallway. I followed him, heart pounding. Everything looked so strange, all I had was a circle of white illuminating what was ahead of me, and everything else was lost in shadow. I couldn't make out what was beyond that bright circle, it was almost as if nothing beyond it existed.
Kenny stopped at the open doorway of the bedroom he shared with Kyle, looked back at me, just a glance, and stepped inside. I took a breath, tried to keep from the hand holding the flashlight from shaking, and followed him inside.
The circle of white illuminated the hardwood floor just inside the doorway. Beyond that was the dark brown and beige rug that lay between their beds, dark splotches marring the lighter parts of it. As I shone the light further in across the length of the rug, the splotches grew, ran together, became one large stain across the last third of the rug, a stain extending from under Kyle's still body.
My breath caught in my throat; for a second my sight went as well. I was seeing stars. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't get air past my choked airway. Then Kyle moved, just slightly. Twitched, rather, but I could see that his eyes were still partially open. I let out a shaky breath, trying to calm myself and headed across the rug shakily. I tried avoiding the dark spots, the stains, but realized it was useless. Kenny had crouched down at Kyle's head, he'd put a hand to his face, was stroking it softly. I stopped next to him, looked for a reason for Kyle's startling paleness, for the stains. Then I saw Kenny was holding one of Kyle's arms, his left, keeping it up higher than his body. It was wrapped with what looked to be a dark towel, except that it was much, much lighter colored at the edges, and then I realized I was looking at it all backwards and that the towel was actually a light color and that the darkness was from… from…
"Kenny…" I choked out; an acrid scent of metal pervaded the room. I swallowed, tasted pennies.
"You can clip the light to your pants," Kenny said, and I fumbled with the flashlight for a moment. "Here, take his legs… I'll take him by the shoulders."
I shuffled around, flashlight banging off of my thigh and sending it's light flickering across the room. Kenny lay Kyle's arm across his chest, grabbed his shoulders and lifted slightly. The redhead muttered something, eyelids flickering. I swallowed thickly, leaned over and grabbed Kyle's legs. Somehow we maneuvered out of the room, headed down the hallway towards the stairs. Kenny didn't seem to have a problem with heading down the stairs, backwards and holding Kyle up at the same time as he was. My hands were shaking so badly I was scared I was about to drop Kyle's legs at any moment. Getting across the front room was easy, and suddenly we were outside, the frosty wind blasting at us. I managed to snag the door with my foot and pull it closed behind us at a lull in the gusts, and we stumbled through the snow towards my car. I'd left the doors open, and Kenny pulled open a back door quickly. He slid into the back seat, pulling Kyle inside with him. I helped him get the redhead situated as best I could, then closed the door and got into the driver's seat.
I turned the windshield wipers on high, pulling out of the driveway and heading down the street as fast as I could go. I could hear Kenny murmuring softly to Kyle behind me; I thought it was probably doing him more good than the redhead. I didn't mind; having his voice as background noise, even if I couldn't make out any words, was better than driving along in silence, trying to stop thinking. God. God. I had to stop thinking. There were red lights in front of me, but I glanced to either side and drove on through. I was probably going too fast for the weather, but I'd gotten my snow tires on the day before so I figured I could push the car just a little faster. The wind was strong, however; I could feel it shoving at the Civic, as if it were trying to shove us off the road.
"T…take the turn towards Ash," Kenny spoke up suddenly, "You can cut through the bakery parking…"
"Okay…" I whimpered. I was trying hard not to look in the rearview mirror. I couldn't look into the rearview mirror. I had to watch for Argyle, had to turn right onto it. I had to make sure I didn't miss the turn onto Ash. I had to—
A sudden scream broke through the silence of the car like a gunshot. I jerked the wheel, the car went sliding. I pumped the brakes but I couldn't stop it from turning, and although the scream hadn't been loud, and it had faded quickly, I still heard it in my head. There was a sudden sense of vertigo; the car was moving in five directions at once, and I couldn't stop it.
A thump, and I was thrown into my door. My hands wouldn't let go of the steering wheel, and I couldn't control my breathing. I closed my eyes, trying to get myself under control, then opened then again and turned to look into the back seat. Kenny had slid almost all the way off of the seat, but somehow he'd managed to keep Kyle from doing anything other than sliding a bit towards the left side of the car. Kyle's eyes were wide, staring up towards the roof of the car, and I could see tears leaking out of the corners. He was whimpering, but it was muffled by Kenny's arm across his mouth. I looked towards the blonde, my eyes met his shocked blue ones. He was shaking, I could see, and wincing slightly.
"Sorry…" I managed, and he shook his head. I turned back towards the front of the car, realizing the car was still idling. My whole window was white, and there was snow tossed across the hood of the car. A snow bank. I almost sighed in relief. Putting the car in reverse I pulled out onto the street. Back into drive, and I started down the street. Cutting across the bakery parking I pulled onto Hospital Drive and rocketed down towards the large white building at the end. Sometimes, living in a small town had its advantages; less than ten minutes and we were pulling into the emergency room parking. I pulled into a spot just next to the doors and cut the engine.
"I'll go get help," I said, looking back at Kenny and Kyle. The blonde nodded without speaking; he was holding Kyle's injured arm up high above his body level, his other hand shaking as it stroked the redhead's cheek. "I'll be right back."
I almost fell out of the car, sliding across the slick snow cover as I hurried towards the emergency room doors. The double glass doors slid open softly, and I was hit by a gust of warm air. There were people inside, but I could barely see them past the glare of the bright lights on the pale walls and floors. I stumbled inside, trying to see something, trying to find someone.
"Do you need help?"
I turned quickly at the voice, finding myself looking into the face of a kindly looking middle aged woman in nurse's garb. She was looking at me closely, and I stuttered for a moment, almost shocked that someone was paying attention.
"I… my friend, he's in my car… I, we drove him…" I started falling over my words, I didn't know how to explain it. I was seeing Kyle again, Kyle with his arm wrapped in – god – a bloody towel, Kenny's hands were red. Kenny's hands were red.
"He's hurt?" She asked, softly, putting a hand on my shoulder. I nodded, shuddering under her comforting touch. She turned away, calling to someone behind her, then turned back to me. "Okay, show me where he is."
I led her outside, hurrying over to my car. I could hear others behind us, and the rattle of a stretcher. Kenny had opened his door, and I rushed over to him. The blonde had Kyle's head and shoulders in his lap, and he gave me an anxious look. Kyle's eyes had closed, and he was breathing hard. A gentle hand at my side made me take a step away, and the kind-eyed nurse gave me an encouraging grin as she motioned for the ER crew to get Kyle out of the car. I didn't know how they did it; one moment, and then Kyle was on the stretcher, a few men rolling him into the ER.
A hand gripped the side of my jacket; I turned to see Kenny next to me, looking after Kyle with scared, wide eyes. The stains on his face were the brown of dry blood; there were more streaks, all in varying stages between red and brown, all across his hoodie. I slung an arm around his shoulders, pulled his shaking form close, and we headed inside. Kenny stumbled slightly in the sudden brightness; I held his shoulder tighter, and looked around.
I couldn't see the stretcher with Kyle on it, or the ER staff that had brought it inside. The nurse that had found me was talking to a man who looked like he might be a doctor. She noticed us and hurried over, the man behind her.
"Boys, we have a few questions to ask you," She started, placing a hand each on Kenny and my shoulders.
"We just want to know what happened here," The man said, clipboard in hand. His eyes weren't quite as kind; there was a hard edge to them.
I would've answered, but I had no clue. Kenny shuddered, pushing against me a bit. I looked at him, trying to give him an encouraging look.
"Kyle… he…" Kenny licked his lips, "He cuts… sometimes. Not a lot. Not, and not bad… He isn't bad with it… I tried, I mean… but he never got real bad with it…"
"It's okay son," The man said in a voice that was trying to be soothing.
"His… his head was hurting, a lot… and his parents, they were on his ass lately… about everything," Kenny's hand was clutching at me tightly, his fingers digging into my side. I barely felt it, I was having troubling keeping up with his words. "I don't know… I mean maybe he slipped up, or something… or… He wasn't… saying anything, like he couldn't… I don't know…"
"That's good," The man wrote something down on his clipboard, "That's good, alright? Now, do you know if he is taking any medication?"
"He takes insulin… I don't know remember what kind… but…" Kenny stopped, looking uncertain. The man had paused in his writing as well to eye him. Kenny looked away for a moment, then his gaze started to wander. "I mean, I don't know… Maybe he didn't, he does it sometimes… and… and his head was really hurting…"
"Does what?" The man's voice dropped lower, and actually did get softer, more soothing. Kenny was twitching next to me, looked at him and shuddered as if he was trying to hold back a sob.
"He might… might've slipped a... a vicodin, or two…" Kenny's voice got quieter, "For… for his head. His mom takes it, f…for her back…"
"Vicodin…" The man wrote more on his clipboard, but he gave Kenny another musing look. "This headache, how long has it been going on?"
"Few days, but it got pretty bad today…" Kenny wiped a sleeved wrist across his face.
"He… screamed…. In the car…" I added so suddenly I shocked myself. The man turned a piercing look towards me, "I mean… not, really bad or anything, but… but like he was in pain…"
The man looked at me for a moment longer, then wrote something more down. He nodded a thanks towards Kenny and me and turned, heading briskly towards a row of doorways across from us.
"All right boys, thank you," The kindly nurse smiled softly, "You can have a seat over there…"
"But… Kyle!" Kenny jerked away from me suddenly, looking towards the direction the man had taken. The nurse placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, mouth moving wordlessly.
"Kenny, Kenny!" I grabbed him, and tried to pull him towards me but he shoved away, almost breaking my hold. "Kenny, calm down. We have to wait now, they have… they have to help him now, and we'll just be in the way."
"Stan, but… I can't, what if… Stan, what…" Kenny whimpered, still trying to get away from my hold. It took all my strength to pull him towards me, hold him so he wouldn't get free. I could feel him sobbing, his body shaking against mine.
"It's going to be all right, Kenny," I shushed, trying to soothe him, "Kyle's going to be fine, he's going to be fine…"
I couldn't help it, my voice cracked towards the end. I could feel Kenny falter, fall into me a little. I tried to give the nurse a thankful look, and dragged the blonde over to a row of chairs at the side of the hallway. We practically collapsed onto two of them. Kenny was stiff next to me, shaking almost continually. I rubbed his sides, trying to get him to relax just a little. He fell against me, suddenly, his breath choking out.
"Oh god, Stan, oh god oh god…." His voice was hardly over a breath, but I had pulled him close and could hear him, feel his whimpers. I wanted to calm him down, but I didn't know how. I couldn't understand how this all happened. I pressed my face into his hair, trying to breathe right, trying not to notice the tears on my face as his voice continued, unstoppable. "Oh god, I told them… I told them, the fucking idiots, I told them to back off… I told them…"
