A/N: Hi! I bring you all a brand new Candy fic! I'm very excited about this one, and hope you'll like it.
There'll be a lot more teenage drama than in SPK, I still don't know how long, but maybe longer. As I said on twitter, I'll be away for two weeks tops, so I'll post ch. 2 by then. Afterward, I hope to have a steady schedule, but I won't make any promises! And please mind the tags, this fic will feature some heavy topics in the future.
And on another note, I tried to put the Kenny/Marjorine tag, but apparently, to Ao3, it doesn't exist, so there's that. I'm truly sorry for that; I hope it changes in the future.
Also, I'm planning to return to Angel Boy too!
October, Senior Year
Ode to Quetiapine
Oh, to be swept from this misery,
From this day forward, all the troubles
of the heart shall be no more
Alas, for salvation has risen,
Locked is tenderness, and will is guarded,
A damp, bleary mind
Fair price to keep the masses content,
yet the ringmaster, in all splendor,
chants alongside death
Eric eyed the piece of poetry written in his notebook before sighing. It wasn't new material; he'd written it when he first started taking meds, but lately, writer's block invaded his mind, and he was insecure about his new stuff. Sure, the poem was a few years old, but it was good enough to enter the competition, in Eric's opinion. Almost no one knew he took meds, and the few that did, well, they wouldn't believe he liked to write in the first place, so his identity was safe.
Still debating whether to enter the Young Writers Contest, he made his way toward the last period. The first price was $1,500, and the second and third places also had fair cash prices, and Eric knew he needed the money. His eighteen birthday was in July, so his medical care no longer covered his meds (which were expensive as fuck), and his car was out of service. If he wanted to leave South Park after graduation, the car had to be ready to hit the road by then.
"'Sup dude," Kenny greeted him.
"Hey," Eric grabbed his chemistry book from his locker, trying not to look at the girls talking to his left side. Especially the black-haired one. "See you at Stan's later?" He asked, and Kenny shook his head.
"Nah, Marj told me her parents will be out of town 'till night, so she invited me to the movies. She already told Stan we won't be at practice today." Kenny said, leaning against the lockers.
"Oh? I didn't know you and Miss Stotch were an item." Eric said with a devilish grin, and Kenny faintly blushed.
"Shut up, fatass; we're not . I mean, I wished we were, but she's too afraid of what her parents would say."
Eric then looked at him with a gleam in his eyes. Sometimes it was too easy to mess with his friends.
"You fa-" he began mockingly, but Kenny interrupted him. "Stop right there, you fatass," Kenny's hand slammed the lockers. He was shorter than him, but his blond friend stood like the tallest man in the room. Kenny was laidback and friendly, Eric didn't know anyone like him, but his eyes could hold a fury like no one whenever he got protective.
"You know how hard everything has been for her; she's already had enough with her parents. I don't want her to get upset by your idiotness too."
"Alright, alright," Eric rolled his eyes, "I'm sorry." He gave Kenny puppy eyes, and the blond exhaled with irritation. "I hope you mean it, Cartman."
"Mean what?'" A feminine voice said from behind. Marjorine Stotch, or Marj for close friends, approached them with a smile. She wore her long blonde hair in two space buns with side bangs long enough to hide her eye scar, pink lipstick that matched her dress, and small-heeled sandals, making her a few inches taller than Kenny.
"He's saying he'll finally confess to his long-time crush," Kenny smirked, his tooth gap showing. He gave Eric knowing eyes, and his cheeks reddened with humiliation. He didn't know when he let that hippie know that much about him.
"Hey! Fuck you!" He retorted as Kenny and Marjorine headed to class.
"I wish!" His friend replied, and Marjorine slapped his arm with blushing cheeks. "Kenneth!"
Almost everyone was gone for the day, and while Eric sat and waited for Stan to finish whatever he had to do, he could hear voices coming from the hallway.
"I told you, Wendy, I didn't mean to." He could hear Stan say.
"Then whose fault is it, Stan? You told me you'd accompany me to the bookstore and then ditched me! I spent three hours waiting for you!" Without making any sound, Eric turned and saw the couple approaching, Wendy looking furious.
"Yeah, but then-" Stan faltered.
"Then what? It's not the first time you've done this, Stan! You always do this; I don't know how many times you've canceled at the last minute because you answer my texts without reading them! It's…I don't know if I can keep this up much longer." Eric's ears picked with interest. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but his heart did a flip when thinking of the idea of Wendy being single.
"Wendy, wait-" Eric could faintly hear Wendy's resigned complaints and Stan's protests when his hands mechanically reached out his small notebook from his backpack. In a moment of epiphany, he began scribbling down the first thing that came to mind,
The rose-colored feeling deformed into a hidden suspicion.
Hidden in the cracks of a utopian space,
The rotting smell and the stench of cowardice swallowed the ego.
"What's that?" Stan's voice made Eric jump, and when he looked up, he saw a pair of ocean eyes looking at him with interest. He was too immersed in his writing to hear him coming.
"N-nothing!" He quickly closed his notebook and tried to put it back into his backpack, but just as quickly, Stan grabbed it before he could do it. "Hey, give it back, you asshole!"
"What's this?" Stan's eyes roamed through Eric's notebook as he backed away from him. Eric was bigger and stronger than Stan, but his scrawny friend was faster.
"It's none of your business, you hippie" He tried to grab it, but Stan only laughed and jumped into one of the metal picnic tables.
"Who're you calling hippie? "Hidden in the cracks of a utopian space, the rotting smell and the stench of cowardice swallowed the ego…. " Stan stopped in his tracks and looked up from the notebook. His face was pensive. "Hey, did you write this?"
"No." Eric was a terrible liar, and if his notebook didn't have his name, his flaming cheeks would give him away.
Stan raised his eyebrow. "This is all in your handwriting, dude."
"So what if I did?" Enough times he'd been humiliated before, and he wouldn't let wonder boy take away the only good thing he got left. Not when half of the stuff he'd written was secretly about his girlfriend. Stan jumped from the table and returned the notebook to Eric after giving it one last look.
" I didn't know you liked to write – it looked promising," Stan said awkwardly while Eric quickly returned the diary of sorts to his bag.
"Yeah, right," Eric scoffed.
"I-I mean it! The little I could read seemed pretty good, more than good, actually." Stan scratched the back of his head and added, when Eric said nothing in return, "Soooo, you're planning on entering the literary competition?" He said when he heard no response back.
Eric's eyes went wide with panic, "No, I'm not! And I'd appreciate it if you kept your pretty mouth shut. No one knows about this, and I plan on keeping it that way."
"Dude, have you seen the first-place prize? Wendy won't shut up about it. She said she wanted to enter but didn't know if her writing was that good."
"If her essays have anything to say about it, I believe she'll do more than okay," Eric said in a whisper.
"What was that?"
"Oh, uhm, nothing," Eric said, walking towards the exit.
"Won't that money help with your car? It's been out of service for ages, and I know how much you miss hiking to Beaver Creek Trail."
Eric looked sharply at him. "How do you-" "We've been friends for years, dude. I know you." Stan's eyes softened.
"I've got too many things to worry about, and I don't know if I have the time to enter a stupid competition." He did plan on entering, but his defense walls were up the minute Stan found his secret, and he wasn't planning on being vulnerable with him.
"Tell me about it," Stan commented. "I stayed up late playing Twilight Struggle with Kyle again," "That's gay," Eric interjected. While Stan ignored his comment, he continued with red cheeks, "And we drank a few beers – well, I drank a few beers, and apparently, I told Wendy I'd accompany her to the bookstore."
"Isn't that like the third time you've done it?" Eric knew it was the sixth, but he didn't want Stan to realize he'd kept the count.
Stan pierced his eyes at him, "I know, I know. It's just that I sometimes get blackouts, and after I texted her, I probably fell asleep."
"Dude, don't you ever read her texts? You had plenty of time during the day to check your phone."
"I sometimes forget, okay!" Stan wasn't the best boyfriend, everyone knew that, but Eric was astonished by Wendy's patience for the man. He could bet Kyle didn't have that problem with Stan, but that was a thought he kept for himself.
They were silent as they exited the school, the cold air of autumn greeting them as they approached the parking lot. Then, before reaching the car, Stan suddenly stopped and exclaimed, "Hey, I've got an idea."
Eric was seriously done with the conversation. "What is it?"
"Wendy and I are on a thin edge here. She says I don't pay enough attention to her, and while I may sometimes disagree, I admit that lately, I haven't been the best boyfriend."
"Then why don't you just break up with her?" He said, tired of hearing the same sentence coming out of his friend's lips for years without end. His feelings for Stan's girlfriend aside, it was the most logical and sensible thing to do. But Eric knew it was a losing battle. He remembered all the countless talks and tense moments between Stan and Kyle regarding the topic.
He wasn't keen on gossip, but the last time Kenny filled him in, he said Kyle had ended up teary-eyed and Stan beyond remorseful. That was months ago, just before summer vacation. Ever since then, it was obvious they avoided the whole "Wendy" situation, but Eric and Kenny knew all too well it was glaring the way it made Kyle uncomfortable.
"'Because!" Stan said exasperatedly, and it was Eric's turn to raise an eyebrow at him.
"Look, you need money to repair your car, and I need help with my girlfriend. You see where I'm going with this?"
"Hmm-mm," Eric responded absent-mindedly, ignoring what Stan was saying. He regretted saying yes to going to Stan's after school; a plate of quadruple stuffed oreos and an episode of British Bake Off sounded far more entertaining.
"So… will you help me?" Stan said in a low voice after Eric said nothing more.
"Huh?"
"I said, will you help me? It will take the pressure off my shoulders if Wendy is happy with me, and I know your car will appreciate the extra bucks." Stan had hopeful eyes, and Eric's ears turned pink when it dawned on him what Stan was implying.
"What? No!"
"No? But why?"
"Because," Eric didn't know how to voice his discomfort without giving away his real reason. "I know it may not seem like it, but my writing is not something I take lightly." Eric bit his lip, and Stan rolled his eyes.
"I said I would pay you. Besides, I see nothing wrong with it. It's not like I'm asking you to be her boyfriend or anything; it's just a few poems."
"Just a few- ugh," Eric exasperatedly passed his hand through his hair. "Why can't you do it, dude? You write most of the songs for Crimson Dawn, don't you? You're not half bad yourself, Marsh. I don't see why can't you do it."
"It's different with songs. I love writing them, but it's not the same. Most of my songs come from an angry place and the others… Kyle helps me write them, and it'd be too weird if he's there when I'm writing a poem for Wendy."
"Again, gay."
"Please, dude, I don't ask for much. My dad's constantly hammered, and I know he has a secret stash I bet he doesn't even remember having. I don't know how much I can take before he notices, but I can pay you, let's say, thirty bucks per poem?"
Eric's eyes widened. That was a lot of money for just one poem. "Are you sure? Won't your dad get mad if he discovers the money is gone?"
"Don't sweat it! I intended to take the money even if I didn't pay you. Kyle and I have this whole trip planned after school is over."
"But why go through the hassle of lying to Wendy?" He didn't know why Stan was adamant about staying with her. He pushed again, softer, "Why not just break up with her?
"It's… complicated. But, even if I don't show it, I love her. Maybe after school is over, I'll be able to sort things out with her. But my pressures are elsewhere, and a breakup is not something I need right now. Besides, it's not a complete lie, is it?"
"Yeah," Eric said pensively. Maybe it wasn't the worst idea. He could never show his poems to the person who inspired them anyway, and perhaps if he put Stan's name at the end of them, it was a way he could somehow demonstrate his feelings without giving himself away.
"C'mon, Cartman, Kyle's probably already at my house!" Stan said, starting the car. Eric nodded and got in, resolve in his mind.