Hi, guys, here is the final chapter. I just want to say thanks to everyone for sticking with this until the end. It really means a lot, and I appreciate each and every one of your comments.
Three Years Later
Kyle was now fourteen, and had been out of the pageant business for the past three years. Sheila had allowed him to quit after he'd won the Ultimate Grand Supreme. One catch. He did indeed have to go back the following year and crown the winner, but, perhaps afraid that his win was a fluke, she also had him compete in another National. He won another Ultimate, and at last she seemed satisfied, and finally allowed him to retire.
He'd cut his hair after he quit pageants, and had kept it short ever since, so now no one could spend hours brushing and styling and touching it. Sheila had almost fainted when she saw him without his curls; that was fun.
Kyle had gone back to living a normal life; the teasing had stopped (except by Cartman but that was a given) and they'd all graduated to middle school. He was really enjoying it, and was regularly the top of his class.
Until the documentary aired. Janet had agreed to wait a few years before it was released in order to allow time for editing, and promotion, and also to give Kyle a bit of a break.
But now the bullying had started again, and so had the headaches, which had 'mysteriously' vanished after his last pageant. A lot of the kids seemed to have forgotten about his 'hobby', but now that trailers and photographs for the documentary were everywhere, many of his peers found it hilarious.
It was the jibes that were whispered in the classroom, it was the sniggering that followed him through the halls, it was the shouted jokes that rang through the cafeteria, and Kyle absolutely hated it. But, as usual, there was nothing he could do except ignore it. His only saving grace was that he was no longer competing.
~ X ~
He returned home from school that day in a bad mood, and immediately went upstairs to his room. Shrugging off his backpack, he sat down his computer, and put on his headphones. There he remained for the next four hours, blasting The Cure at top volume, and playing computer games.
A few hours later, the documentary was premiering, and he knew Sheila was downstairs watching it, but Kyle was staying in his room, wanting nothing to do with it. He knew Ike was at a friend's house, and Kyle imagined his dad was in his study.
That part of his life was over for good, and he just wanted to pretend it all never happened. Except now he had a strong urge to go into the trophy room and destroy everything in there. But he didn't, and stayed in his room, playing his game, trying to distract himself from what tomorrow would bring.
A message popped up on his screen, and Kyle paused his game and saw that it was Bebe. Wondering what she could possibly want, he clicked on it. It was an article promoting the documentary, and he stared at the link. It seemed to be taunting him, and his hand hovered over the mouse.
Knowing that he would regret it, Kyle opened the article, and began to read.
"The already strange world of child beauty pageants is set to get even weirder in an upcoming documentary called "Pretty Boys", showing us the life of boys on the pageant circuit.
I'm there to meet Sheila Broflovski, from South Park, Colorado, mother to 10-year-old Kyle, the undisputed king of the male pageant scene, and the main focus of the documentary.
I arrive at the Hilton in Houston, Texas, where the National Elite Faces pageant is being held. Even though it's early in the morning, Moms, Dads, and their kids are traversing through the lobby, either heading to the back room, where contestants will have their hair and makeup done, or finding an empty space to fit in some last minute practise. They are all hoping for the same thing; to win one of the top prizes – crowns and trophies, cash, or even the chance to be noticed by a modelling agent.
I head up to room 1410, and Sheila welcomes me inside. It would be an ordinary hotel room, were it not for the fact that there are a few miniature elaborate costumes hanging up – Kyle's outfits for the competition, and several glossy 8x10 photos for the Photogenic round are arranged on the bed.
Kyle, an angelic looking child, is sat in a chair, while his coach/hair and makeup artist, Tony Matthews, gets him ready. As I take a seat, Tony is brushing Kyle's hair, an impressive mass of red curls. He sprays the locks with water, which he then begins styling into a sort of newscasters coif. I am told that it can take up to and over 30 minutes just to do Kyle's hair.
"It's all natural," Sheila boasts. "There's no extensions or hair dye, despite what will people will say."
With success, comes controversy – Kyle's eyes are such a vivid shade of green that his mother has been accused of using coloured contact lenses, not to mention the previous accusations of hair dye/extensions.
"He gets his eye colour from my mother," says Sheila, who has brown eyes and her husband, Gerald, has blue. "But I'd never use contacts, no matter what colour his eyes are."
Though Kyle politely says hello to me, he soon turns a sullen gaze to the TV, which is playing cartoons. His attention alternates between that and his cell phone, where he taps away at the screen every so often.
Like every other parent, Sheila wants Kyle to win the highest title; the Ultimate Grand Supreme. Kyle only shrugs when I ask him what he wants to win.
He answers me in one-word sentences, clearly fed up. That is, until Sheila admonishes him. "Kyle, where are your manners? I raised you better than that."
After that, he's much more cooperative. It is instantly clear who's the boss here.
"I like the talent part the best," he tells me when I ask what his favourite category is. "Because I get to play basketball, and I don't have to have as much hairspray on."
Although Kyle has been competing for a little over two years, he's become quite well-known on the circuit, and has won an impressive 29 National titles, but Sheila admits it wasn't always easy.
"We really had to work hard at it," she says, sitting on the edge of one of the double beds, glancing over at Kyle and Tony every so often.
A sheet now covers Kyle's pristine white suit, and Tony sits in front of him, a makeup case lying open on the counter beside them. It's easy to see why he wins so much; Kyle is flawless, with a face that any child model would envy.
"The first several pageants we did, Kyle lost them all, and it was hard. Even after he started winning the National titles, he would still lose every now and then, but it was all trial and error. He just didn't really stand out enough, I think," she continues when asked why. As we talk, I can't help but notice Kyle squirming in his chair, out of the corner of my eye. Tony has an eyeliner pen in his hand, and Kyle is trying to avoid it. A stern glance from Sheila is all it takes to get him to sit still.
"It's hard for a boy to be noticed, so we had to work twice as hard. He got better clothes, and Tony started coaching him." She gestures to the man who is currently applying concealer to cover the dark circles under Kyle's eyes. Though Sheila insists she's not overworking him, there's a suspicious absence of these circles in Kyle's older photos, as seen in a portfolio she proudly shows me.
Tony, who wanted to be a professional dancer as a teenager, has been involved in the pageant business for more than 12 years.
"I attended one because my niece was doing pageants at the time," he explained to me over the phone yesterday. "And I loved it, I loved everything about it. All the costumes, the makeup; everything. I actually ended up backstage because Hallie's makeup artist had been delayed, and so they asked me to step in."
Having been involved in dance productions for many years, one thing Tony knew how to do was apply stage makeup. Soon, he was getting requests from other parents to do their kids' makeup, and Tony decided to make this his full-time job. "I already knew how to put together stage costumes, and I use a lot of the moves I used to do in my dance shows for the routines."
Tony first met Sheila and Kyle when they were still doing small, local pageants, and soon took Kyle on as one of his clients. Now Kyle is his only client. "I work one-on-one with Sheila and Kyle now; he's the most successful kid I've ever coached, and I'm so proud of him."
But, he specifies, he did help his previous clients find other coaches. "Of course, I couldn't just let them go! Luckily, a lot of us coaches know each other, and so I quickly found them some great people." (They decline how much extra it costs for Tony to only coach Kyle)
Now, with a final dusting of powder, Tony is done. Kyle removes the sheet, but remains sitting, still engrossed in his phone.
Sheila tells me that she entered Kyle in pageants, as a way of boosting his confidence. "He had no self-esteem at all, and I wanted him to get some confidence in himself."
I ask her the question everyone wants to ask a pageant mom; how is letting strangers judge him on his looks helping his self-esteem? Especially since Sheila told me that most of Kyle confidence issues are down to him believing he is ugly.
"I don't look at it as being judged for his looks; I look at it as a positive experience. Kyle knows that if he doesn't win, it doesn't mean he's ugly; it all comes down to what the judges prefer. He wins Photogenic a lot, so it's been great for his self-esteem. Every kid here is wearing makeup," Sheila says. "You can't not wear it; the bright lights wash you out otherwise. Besides, Kyle did an all-natural pageant and won first place there, so that's proof he doesn't need it. But if he didn't wear it for other pageants, then he would look like a corpse. You know you're perfect with or without makeup, right bubbe?" She looks over at Kyle.
"Right," he replies, looking as if he is only replying out of obligation.
Soon, they are ready to go down to the ballroom, where the contest has already started.
Kyle brightens considerably when we reach the ballroom, and he sees his friends; a boy and girl around his age. They immediately form a little circle, and begin chatting animatedly. It's the most alive I've seen Kyle all morning.
Their joy does not last for long, as it's time for the pageant to begin. Kyle and Jake, his friend, line up along the wall, with the other boys in their age group. Sheila and Tony approach Kyle, and make some last-minute adjustments; Tony makes sure there are no stray hairs on Kyle's tornado-proof 'do, while Sheila straightens out his clothes, fixing his lapels, adjusting his sleeves, fussing with his bow tie, making sure there is not even the tiniest crease in his clothes. Kyle stares straight ahead, his face blank.
"Okay, show me your smile," says Sheila. Kyle turns around and gives her a dazzling pageant smile, and Sheila nods in approval.
When Kyle steps on stage, he completely changes; he smiles at the judges, the turning of his head and the "spontaneous" raised eyebrows make it look like he's truly enjoying himself. If keeping your head and eyes locked on the judges while turning can be considered an art, then Kyle has it down to a T.
However, as soon as he steps off, the smile drops, and Kyle heads back over to his friends. He seems tired already.
After a long weekend, Kyle is eventually crowned Photogenic Supreme. Standing on the stage, draped in a banner, a huge crown sits on his head, and a wad of cash in his hand.
"It's a good title," Sheila says to me as Kyle steps off stage. "We've won this one before, but it's still a high one, so I'm happy with that."
"Sure, I guess," is all Kyle says when I ask him if he's happy with his prize. He turns to his mother. "Can I go see my friends now?"
At her nod, Kyle is off in a flash, his crown already discarded on a chair. Sheila picks it up and holds it, smiling.
~ X ~
After he had finished reading, Kyle closed the article. A frown crossed his face. Once again, his life was being upended and there was nothing he could do about it. He was wondering how long it would take for all the fuss to die down this time, when his phone buzzed. He picked it up and saw that it was a text from Cartman.
"FAAAAG!" was all it read, because of course he would be watching it. Kyle growled and was about to reply, when he received a text from Stan.
'Dude, ur trending on twitter!"
Kyle had been keeping off Facebook and Twitter that night, not wanting to read the comments he would inevitably get, but his curiosity was aroused, and so he opened his Twitter, dread building up within him. Sure enough #PrettyBoys, and #KyleBroflovski were trending, and he nervously tapped on the first one.
"Anyone else think this kid doesn't really want this"? One user had posted.
"Sweet kid, awful mom."
"Aw, man, I feel so bad for him."
"Wow, I didn't even know they did pageants for boys."
"As long as the kid wants to do it, I don't see a problem."
"What a disgusting woman his mother is."
"This is making me feel really uncomfortable. Anyone else?"
"This kid is gonna snap and kill his mother one day."
"Yeah, I wouldn't call that a meltdown, lady, that was more of a breakdown."
"So, Kyle wins a puppy, the one time we see he's actually happy, and his mom takes it away. What a bitch!"
Kyle closed the app after reading that; that still hurt; he missed that puppy so much.
Feeling like he was making a huge mistake, Kyle opened up Facebook, and saw that he had 35 friend requests, over 50 notifications, and as many messages. The messages were mainly from Cartman, who had photo-shopped his face onto Miss America winners; not only had he sent them via private message, he had also posted them on Kyle's timeline. The boy sighed, deleting them one by one. Wendy, Bebe, Butters, and a few others had posted comforting, supportive comments on his profile, but a few of the boys in his class had posted things like "princess", and other such horrible remarks, and Kyle deleted those as well, before tackling his notifications. Most of them were from friends tagging him in their posts, as well as other users he didn't know tagging him in theirs.
In a flash, he updated his privacy settings. He changed his profile picture to a group photo of him and his friends where his face wasn't instantly noticeable, and he also changed his name to Kyle B. Hopefully that would grant him a little anonymity.
~ X ~
If Kyle was annoyed by the show, it was nothing compared to how Sheila was feeling, as he found out the following morning.
"I can't believe Janet did that!" she raged to Gerald over breakfast. Kyle had buried his face in his phone, and was quietly eating cereal, trying to keep a low profile. Ike had his earbuds in and was slumped back against his chair, knees up, texting a friend.
"All documentaries go a little crazy with the editing," Gerald shrugged, trying to read his newspaper.
"But she promised she wouldn't do that! You're a lawyer, can't you do something? She made me look like the worst person in the world!" She was pacing back and forth, her eyes blazing.
"If you signed a contract, there's nothing I can do," Gerald said.
"But she's made me look like a monster!" Sheila yelled. "Do you realise how much hate I've gotten? People keep messaging me and telling me I'm not fit to have children, that I'm a terrible mother!"
"Look," Gerald put down the paper and sighed, "this'll all die down soon. All you can do is rise above it." He knew it was a long shot, considering who his wife was, but surely she should have anticipated this? Anything to do with child beauty pageants were guaranteed controversy, and Gerald couldn't believe that she was so unprepared.
"I can't just sit here and do nothing!"
Ike, able to hear her through his earbuds, groaned quietly, and took his bowl to the sink before disappearing from the kitchen.
"Listen, honey, maybe she didn't realise what she was doing, or how much it would upset you," said Gerald. "Why don't you call her, and see if you can't straighten things out?"
Kyle also took his bowl to the sink, and slipped out of the kitchen unseen, though he heard his mother claim that it would do no good, the documentary was already out there for all to see.
Kyle kept his earbuds on as he walked to school, his gaze fixed firmly on the snowy ground. He decided to walk rather than catch the bus, and when he reached the school, he spotted Stan standing just outside the doors, and he made his way over to him.
"Hey, dude," said Stan as Kyle removed his earbuds, and carefully placed them back in the box.
"Hey." Kyle focused on putting the box neatly in his backpack, not quite looking his friend in the eye.
"You ready for today?" Stan asked, as they entered the double doors, a wheeze of warm air greeting them over the chattering, footsteps, and slamming lockers that accompanied any school.
"Not at all."
Stan remained silent for a moment; they both knew that he had Kyle's back, and wouldn't allow anyone to speak badly about his Super Best Friend. But he wasn't quite sure of what to say at that moment.
"So," said Stan eventually, as they walked through the halls. Kyle was looking ahead, his gaze turned slightly downwards. He'd heard no whispering or giggling so far, so perhaps the majority hadn't watched the documentary? Or maybe they had, and felt sorry for him; Kyle didn't know which one would be worse.
Stan waited patiently, and Kyle finally looked at him. He could see that Stan wanted to ask him something. "Why didn't you tell me you had a girlfriend?"
"Huh?"
"That girl in the show; the one who was always hanging around you. Yeah, I watched it," he added as Kyle opened his mouth. "Dude, she was so into you!"
Kyle found he could not speak. Brianna liked him? When did this happen? He searched his memory and remembered the hugs, the touching of his arm, the compliments on his smile, his eyes, his hair – oh. Oh, he truly was an idiot.
Stan had to laugh as Kyle stood there, dumbfounded. He may be captain of the debate team with a 4.0 GPA, but in some ways, Kyle was still the same clueless kid he had been in elementary school. "You really had no idea?"
"No! I just thought she was.. really nice." Kyle felt himself blushing. Stan laughed again, but not unkindly.
"Dude, you should call her, find out if she still likes you, and go on a date."
"You think?" Kyle's hand rested on the phone in his pocket. He still kept in contact with Brianna, who was still competing. Part of him wondered if he should call her, and find out if it was true. She would probably message him before the day was out anyway. "I – no," he removed his hand, and continued walking with Stan.
"Why not?"
"She's probably moved on by now. Besides, I never saw her that way; she was more like a sister to me."
Sometimes it was better not knowing.
Stan raised his eyebrows, but said nothing as they sat down at their desks.
~ X ~
All in all, it hadn't been the worst day, but it could have gone better. Cartman was being Cartman; watching clips of the show whenever he could at full volume, and dusting off Kyle's old nicknames, 'Princess', and 'Miss America'.
"Oh, Princess!"
Kyle, walking down the hall, closed his eyes and grit his teeth as he heard the voice that had been the bane of his life since he was four years old. Taking a deep breath, he carried on walking. "Oh, little Princess Kahl!"
"What?!" Kyle growled, spinning around, and seeing Cartman about ten feet away from him, grinning widely.
"Don't look so angry, Kahl; you'll get wrinkles," Cartman said, and a few kids tittered.
"What do you want?!" Kyle snapped, choosing to ignore that last statement, as more students gathered around them. Naturally, Kyle's infamous temper had followed him to middle school, and most kids were smart enough to keep at arm's length. Nevertheless, a fight was always worth watching.
"What do you mean?" asked Cartman innocently, a malicious glint in his eye. "You should really get your temper under control, you know."
"Go fuck yourself!" hissed Kyle.
"Now, Kahl, this just won't do for a beauty queen, will it? 'Smile, bubbe, put your chin up, look at the judges'," mocked Cartman in a perfect imitation of Sheila Broflovski. He'd obviously been practising.
"Shut the fuck up!" Kyle snarled, his face burning, as laughter arose from all around him. He heard a few 'wimps' and 'mommy's boy' thrown in for good measure as well, and he clenched his fists and ground his teeth.
"What? I'm only trying to help; it's not my fault... "
It seemed that Cartman still had not learned his lesson, and Kyle let out an enraged yell and leapt on Cartman, pummelling him mercilessly.
As Cartman flailed pathetically under the smaller boy, the kids wasted no time in crowding around to watch the fight, cheering, clapping, and filming on their phones.
Some things never changed.
~ X ~
Kyle gave in and watched the documentary a few weeks after it aired. His curiosity had got the better of him. The way everyone was talking about it, especially with his mother so enraged, he had assumed that it had been very dramatically edited, to make them look a certain way.
Making sure his door was locked, he put on his headphones, and opened YouTube, finding the documentary easily. Taking a deep breath, he clicked on it, and began to watch.
The documentary opened with a outside shot of a hotel with the title 'Pretty Boys: The Life of a Pageant King' over it.
It then cut to a shot of a man announcing a National title; the camera swept over the ballroom, focusing on a few little girls.
"... Kyle Broflovski!" called the emcee, and the on-screen Kyle stepped up on stage to the sound of cheering and applause. The camera zoomed in to a close up of a smiling Kyle as he was crowned. It was easy to see the makeup on him. Kyle couldn't remember which competition this was; leaning forward, he saw that the sash read 'Grand National Overall Personality Supreme', which didn't help, as he'd won three of those.
The more he watched, the further his stomach sank, and to him, the worst part was seeing his younger self obeying Sheila's every word without question. How irritating that Janet had come about a year too late, when he'd been too exhausted to fight back properly. That was why everyone thought he was a wimp, Kyle realised.
As he continued to watch, he discovered that what he saw was what had exactly been filmed. Very little editing had taken place; what viewers saw happened the same on screen as it did in real life. He couldn't quite believe his eyes. He was still unsure if Sheila truly believed in her mind that the show had been edited, or if she just didn't want to face up to the way she had acted. To be fair, that had never bothered her before, and so Kyle came to the conclusion that his mother believed the editing theory. No wonder she was so mad. He knew nothing would come of it, though; he'd overheard enough angry phone conversations to know that much. Gerald had been right; as Sheila had signed a contract, she didn't have a leg to stand on.
As soon as the documentary had finished, Kyle emptied his browser history. He hadn't given a single thought to those contests for years, and he just wanted to move on with his life.
Sighing heavily, he shut his laptop down, and mentally prepared himself for another day at that hellhole that was school.
"It'll all blow over soon," he told himself as he climbed into bed and pulled up the covers. All he could do was hope that that day would come soon.
~ X ~
5 years later
A young, red-headed man, a few months off from turning twenty, let himself into his little apartment in Boulder. Placing his keys in the small ceramic bowl on the little side table, he picked up the mail that was lying next to it.
"Sarah? You there?" he called, then gave a little shrug when he got no answer, realising she must still be at college.
Making his way through the hall, he entered the living-room, and sat on the blue sofa, rifling through the letters. The TV was off, which was how definitely knew Sarah was out; she hated any kind of silence.
"More junk mail," he muttered, placing them aside so as to deal with them later. Honestly, who still sent junk mail in this day and age? Complete waste of time, let alone bad for the environment.
Standing up, he headed to the kitchen, and made himself a quick sandwich, reminding himself not to eat too much, as he and Sarah were going to have dinner later.
Situating himself back on the sofa, the man pulled out his phone while he ate. Scrolling through his newsfeed, he came across an article that made him pause. The thumbnail contained a picture of a young boy he knew very well indeed, and before he knew it, he had tapped on it and began reading.
"You might remember Kyle Broflovski; if you don't remember the name, you remember the face. He was one of, if not the most, famous and successful pageant boys in history.
Kyle's mother, Sheila, began entering him in pageants when he was only eight years old, and after winning a bunch of small, local contests, they moved up into the big leagues, and began on the National pageant circuit.
Before too long, Kyle had his own modelling coach, a wardrobe stuffed with custom made costumes, and spent all of his free time competing, travelling, with endless photo shoots, and even a spot on "Toddlers and Tiaras". The hard work paid off, however, when Kyle started winning the Supreme titles usually reserved for girls. So quick was his success, that the family were approached by a film-maker to make a documentary on pageant boys. "Pretty Boys: The Life of a Pageant King", earned 8.5 million viewers on its first airing, caused a load of controversy, and is still regularly shown.
However, the footage made it seem as though Kyle did not want to compete and was only doing it to make his mother happy; images of the boy enduring countless hours of practise, hair and makeup, make for uncomfortable viewing.
Just as uncomfortable, was the teasing that Kyle endured at school. The film camera followed him around, capturing classmates calling him "princess," "fag", and "fairy boy," among others; causing Kyle to get into a fight with one of the boys.
After winning the Ultimate Grand Supreme (the highest award in the pageant world), Kyle quit after only three years of competing. He had won over 60 National titles, over $30,000 in cash, and a legacy reserved for television stars. In terms of success, he was the male Eden Wood.
"When the emcee announced his name, people would scream and cheer when he performed," revealed Sheila in one interview many years ago. "People would actually pull their kids out of the pageant when they found out that Kyle was competing."
It's been almost ten years since Kyle last stepped on to the stage; after quitting, he kept a low profile. It is unknown whether he remained in his home town of South Park, Colorado.
The article was open to comments, and he couldn't help reading some of them.
"I remember watching that; I feel wrong about judging kids from their appearance, but man, he was a cute kid. His mom was horrible, though."
"Oh, God, yeah, I felt so bad for him with his awful mom."
"I'd love to see what he looks like now; he was such a little cutie. He's got gorgeous eyes."
"IKR, his eyes are, like, half the size of his face! I'm so jealous!"
"He always seemed so sad; you can tell he didn't enjoy doing it."
"I really, really hope he got away from his mom; God, I hated her so much!"
"Lol, we should get Kyle to do an AMA."
Kyle Broflovski clicked out of the article and put his phone down. It brought back a lot of memories.
For a moment, he sat on the sofa, as events he had not thought about in years but had never really forgotten flooded back into his head. The constant degrading, the pressure, the constant feeling of never being good enough that like a weight on his chest – a feeling that still lingered to this day.
Subconsciously, he began to bounce his knee, and he chewed his lower lip. That constant weight on his chest seemed to be getting heavier as he sat up straighter and lifted his chin. Things went well when he did that, and so it seemed only logical to do it again.
Only he wasn't on stage, Kyle realised, and he no longer had to have perfect posture, but to slouch seemed unthinkable.
He forced himself to lean forward, his face screwed up as he brought one hand up and rubbed the back of his head, fingers grazing over the short hair. His breathing quickened slightly as he covered his face. He brought his other hand up to his head, fingernails digging into the back of his scalp as he hunched onto his knees.
Kyle took deep breaths, remembering what his therapist had taught him, and tried to shut out the world around him while he concentrated.
That was how Sarah, a young, cheerful-looking woman found him when she came home, and she immediately rushed over to him.
"Kyle? Kyle are you okay?" Her delicate brow was creased with worry, and she sat down next to him, gently reaching for his clenched fist, which was now by his side. She hadn't seen him like this for a while.
Kyle, still doing his deep breathing, did not hear her at first. It was only when he felt her touch on his hand that he opened his eyes. "Are you okay?" she repeated.
Kyle sat up and let out a shuddering breath.
"I'm fine," he gasped, looking straight ahead, but Sarah moved closer.
"I've known you for too long; you can't fool me," she said. "Come on, just focus on my hand, and remember to breathe."
"Okay. Okay." Having a task definitely helped, which they both knew from experience. He inhaled, then exhaled, and tried to concentrate all of his energy on her hand, which was softly clasped over his. He could feel her thumb rubbing comforting circles on the back of his hand, and she was breathing deeply along with him. He blinked a few times, and that tight knot in his chest loosened slightly. Only slightly, though.
"What happened?" Her voice was quiet, and concern was written all over her face. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." She continued to breathe along with him, and kept holding his hand.
"It's – I..." Kyle couldn't seem to articulate what he was feeling.
Sarah didn't press him. She sat there patiently, knowing that Kyle would either talk, or he wouldn't. If he wanted to tell her, then she would be there for him, and if he didn't, that was fine with her. As long as he was okay.
"It's all right, I'm here," she assured him. Kyle was breathing easier now, and she placed her other hand on his back, again rubbing soothing circles on it.
She caught sight of his phone on the floor, and wondered if he had seen or read something. It seemed more than likely, but she also began to wonder if Sheila had messaged him again, and she frowned. Sarah never met the woman, but from what Kyle had told her, it was no wonder he was low contact with her.
Kyle straightened up a bit, snapping her back to reality, and she commenced focusing on him. His fists had unclenched a little bit, and his breathing was almost regular again.
"I... read an article.." he gestured to the phone on the floor, feeling his face burning. God, it sounded so stupid when it said it out loud. "About, you know, when I was a kid."
Sarah nodded, but didn't speak. Kyle didn't speak of his time in the pageant world, apart from that one time he'd told her about it, because he felt she deserved to know.
Enough time had passed that he was not immediately recognisable. Occasionally, somebody would say he looked familiar, but Kyle would only say they must be mistaking him for someone else. "It just made me feel like I was back there."
Kyle lowered his head again. What was he, five? Getting so upset over words on a screen, it was ridiculous. He covered his face with his hands. "God, I'm so embarrassed," he admitted.
"Why?" asked Sarah.
"For being so upset. I shouldn't care." That was what confused him; it all happened over ten years ago, why did he care? It wasn't like he could change the past, and it wasn't like the journalists were contacting him any more.
"It's only natural to care," Sarah told him, putting her arm around his shoulders. "It was a big part of your life; anyone would feel the same way."
"I guess. I just feel so dumb."
"Have you taken your medication today?" Sarah asked, and Kyle nodded, still not looking at her. She knew he was telling the truth, though; Kyle was always meticulous about his medication. Besides, whenever he tried to lie, he always wrung his hands a little bit, which he wasn't doing.
Kyle kept his gaze firmly ahead of him. He wasn't wearing makeup, and he didn't think he could bear to have her look in disgust at him. Sarah had never judged him for not wearing makeup before, but there was a first time for everything. "You're doing great," she told him, her voice soft and calming. It always helped calm Kyle; seriously, she could read audio books for a living.
"Thanks."
"Are you feeling a bit better now?"
"Little bit," he said honestly. "Maybe I'd feel better if I wrote about it. Try and get my thoughts out of my head, you know?"
"Maybe," she agreed. "Hey, plus, it'd be a guaranteed A in psyche class," she joked.
Kyle chuckled a little bit, and Sarah internally relaxed slightly.
"Yeah, I could do that. I'd submit it anonymously, though."
"Good idea." The two of them leaned back against the sofa, letting the silence wash over them. Kyle's fist had properly unclenched now, and he was holding her hand. She gave his hand a little squeeze, and they smiled at each other, though Kyle still didn't quite meet her eye.
"Have you eaten?" she asked after a few more moments of silence.
"Yeah, I had a sandwich."
"Good. I haven't eaten yet; I wanna save it for the restaurant."
Kyle chuckled again. "You don't wanna have a little something beforehand?"
"No way!" She turned to face him. "I don't want to fill up on bread."
"You love their breadsticks," Kyle pointed out.
"That's different; they're restaurant breadsticks," she emphasised, and Kyle couldn't help but laugh.
For the first time since she came home, Kyle looked up at her, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"What?" she laughed.
"I'm just lucky to have you," he said, and he really meant it. She was so patient with him.
"Aw.." she leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Hey, we've got a while to kill before dinner, want to watch a movie?"
"Sure. You can pick."
"No, no, I picked last time; it's your turn. I'm just gonna make us a drink." She patted Kyle's leg as she stood and walked into the tiny kitchen, leaving Kyle to scroll through Netflix.
As they watched an 80's classic, with Sarah snuggled up against him, Kyle decided not to write about his experiences; those memories were painful. It was the most miserable time of his life, and despite what that article had done to him, he was feeling pretty good right now, so there was no reason to bring it all up again. All things considered, he was pretty lucky; he had his own apartment, a wonderful girlfriend, good friends, and he was doing well in college. He even had a part time job at the local pet store.
Having said that.. Kyle picked up his phone, and scheduled an appointment with his therapist.
When the movie was over, the both of them left the living-room and freshened up. Sarah changed into a black dress, and Kyle replaced his T-shirt with a dark green button down.
"You look lovely," he told her as she came out of the bathroom, her dark blonde hair freed from its ponytail and cascading around her face.
"Thank you. So do you." She smiled warmly, and Kyle forced himself to accept the compliment.
She walked over to him, and took her hand in his.
Lacing their fingers together, Kyle and Sarah left the apartment, knowing they were going to have a great evening.
~ X ~
Done! I know there's basically two epilogues in one here, but I really wanted the previous chapter to end with Kyle winning the Ultimate.
What did you think? I'd love to know!