Disclaimer: South Park and all characters in it are copyright Matt Stone and Trey Parker, not me.

A/N:

Genis Aurion’s Fatalize. It’s good stuff, trust me. :D

SO YEAH. Another shorter one shot, but hey, they can’t all be Joined-Epic, right? Right.

But seriously people, reviews would be awesome. Like, they would be seriously kick ass, you know? On any of these, really. I… I love you, you know that, right? Right?

Thaaaank you Sebastian! :D Hey, you never know… if the right word comes along and strikes my fancy, I just might go ahead and do that… Not sure if I could ever match up to Joined with anything else I write… D:

SO LIKE REVIEW AND GET COOKIES

Title: The K Squared 100

Author: Zoshi the Confused
Rating: Ranging, mostly PG-PG13

Category: South Park

Genre: General/Romance

Collection may contain: Shounen-Ai/Boy Love, Violence, Adult Situations, Swearing

Eleven

One – the sigh, not long enough to be aggravated, not short enough to be just plain exhale – two-three – the routine raking of fingers through his hair – four-five-six – the straightening of his lips into a hard line – seven-eight – the random wandering of his eyes over familiar scenery – nine – the reforming of his lips into a slight curve – ten – the sticking of his hands in his pockets – eleven – finally, the focusing of his eyes on what was there around him.

Eleven. Eleven seconds until his eyes finally lose that wistful look. Eleven seconds until he doesn’t look like he is ready to jump right back. Eleven seconds until he seems fine with the fact that he is back and whole again. Eleven seconds until he doesn’t look disappointed that he is no longer there.

You had picked up on it quite a while back, although you don’t know why it had struck you as odd such a long time ago. There had always been something off, you think, something strange with him each time he returned. You began to watch him when he came back, trying to discover just what it was in him that had begun bothering you.

He had a routine when he came back. The sigh – at first you thought it was just his first breath back, just breath-exhalation of living air, but it was too regular; it always followed his first moment back. It always happened. Then the raking of his fingers through his hair – somehow, he never managed to avoid that one; the first physical act he did after his return. The straightening of his lips – that had attracted your attention before, and now it attracted it more so, if for different reasons. All the same, you never manage to catch their exact position just before he straightens them. You are distracted by the sigh and the hair-fixing, but you believe you know enough now to imagine just what they look like in the second prior. His wandering eyes – and they wander, everywhere, over everything except the people around him, avoiding them as some avoid unsavory sights. The curving of his lips, the sticking of his hands in his pockets, the final focus of his eyes – all just preparations to meet the gazes of others, look at their faces, go back to being who he was before he was gone.

You’re worried; you wonder if anyone else has noticed this. You wonder if you’re the only who knows that, for eleven seconds, he doesn’t want to be where he finds himself. You wonder if you, yourself, are actually really seeing it, and not just imagining things. You wonder if you should be putting so much weight on that sigh, on the way his eyes don’t want to focus on anything. You wonder if it is just your own mass of insecurities putting those meanings to his actions.

You wonder if he actually wants to be here even after those eleven seconds pass.

You have asked your best friend, but he had just rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders in answer. Or rather, you hinted at asking about it, and not quite well, you could admit. You are worried, in those types of situations, but for a different reason. You are quite sure your best friend knows that there is more than just a regular friendly interest taken from your side in these sorts of matters, but you aren’t sure whether you are ready for him to acknowledge that fact. You must first make up your mind, after all. You must first decide just what you would be willing to do and how far you would be willing to go. You are sure that those are the types of things one must consider in situations like these, and although you are basing this on personal opinion due to the lack of such situations in your small town, you are quite decided on them.

Although, truth be told, you are finding it harder for yourself to keep to those decisions as time goes on. Or rather, keep to the conscious effort of making those decisions. There is a part of you that seems to have always known the answers to those questions, and that part of you cannot stop prodding at you and reminding you that you’ve already made up your mind about those things you are trying to make up your mind about.

You are ready, at any moment, to act upon your feelings. You are ready, if need be, to throw away anything to do so. You are ready to move mountains. You are ready to empty oceans.

And you find yourself with eleven seconds.

Eleven seconds that distance him from the land of the dead and the land of the living.

Eleven seconds that you have the chance to abolish.

Eleven seconds you are not sure you can defeat.