Chapter Two - Getting To Know You

Kyle walked out of the restaurant, his feet sore and his mood more sour than ever. His day had been an absolute pile of shit, and he just wanted to curl up on his pile of greasy blankets in the garage and forget the whole thing. He especially wanted to forget the boy with the black hair, who had more or less ruined his day.

What I wouldn't give to get rid of guys like him, Kyle thought bitterly. They're only after one thing. Stupid fuckers.

He stepped onto the sidewalk and turned toward the Brovlofski home. It wasn't the greatest place in the world, honestly, but at least there he didn't have to worry about anyone trying to get into his pants. His mother was a crazy bitch who did nothing but ignore him until she found a reason to scream at him. His father was a stupid piece of shit who spent most of his time locked in his office, doing God-knows-what.

One day that fucker will take a bad snort of the powder and he'll be one less pain in my ass, Kyle thought bitterly.

"Kyle!" a voice called, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He turned on the spot and looked behind him. The black-haired asshole from earlier was walking toward him at a brisk pace. This couldn't possibly be good.

"Shit," he said, and offered up a rare thanks to Moses that he hadn't ventured far from the safety of Raisins. He moved back toward it quickly and only stopped when he was within shouting distance of Maury. If that bastard tried something stupid, he'd be sorry.

"H..Hey, Kyle," the boy said, stuttering and blushing as usual.

"Hi," Kyle replied with a sigh.

"I just wanted to apologize," the other said. "I...just...sorry...for being so...so..."

Kyle stood there and listened to the moron try and stutter through his fake ass apology before throwing up his hands with a roar of anger and frustration. Could this guy get any more retarded?

"Forget it!" he bellowed. "Just forget it! It isn't the first time a guy has been like that! You're all the same. Every last one of you tries to get it from me one way or the other. That's why I carry mace with me these days."

Kyle pulled a small canister from his pocket to prove him point. The man now looked kind of hurt, as if Kyle had hurt his feelings or something. He took a step closer to the restaurant, pointing the nozzle at the stranger.

"Don't even put on that 'I'm so hurt' act!"

"I...think I may have given you the wrong impression," the man said, hanging his head now. "I don't want to hurt you."

Kyle wasn't buying it. He hardened his expression and tightened his grip on the bottle of mace.

"I'm sorry I gave you that impression," the guy said.

"Oh, right!" Kyle spat, taking another step toward the door. "You just want to be 'friends', I'm sure! Please. Spare me this act, asshole. I've dealt with people like you for far too long."

The man suddenly looked around stupidly, as if he didn't realize that he'd been slowly advancing on him. He suddenly backed up himself and turned away, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry," Kyle heard him say, "I...just...thought you were terrific...didn't mean...I'll go now."

Kyle watched him step back onto the sidewalk, and in that moment he felt himself soften just a bit. This guy was giving up already? Most of the screwballs usually had to get a taste of Maury's fists before they got the message.

"Wait!" he called after the man.

"Yeah?" the guy called, looking over his shoulder. In the glow of the streetlight, Kyle thought he saw some kind of warmth there, though he was sure that was his imagination. Guys like this weren't capable of feeling warmth or compassion. No, that would make it too hard for them when they decided they'd just take what they wanted.

"Why'd you give up so easily?" Kyle asked, eyeing him curiously. "I...haven't even called Maury yet."

The man shook his head again and looked back out into the darkness beyond the streetlight, as if seeking the answer out there.

"You obviously don't like me, Kyle," he replied without turning his head. This made it hard to hear him and Kyle actually had to move closer to hear him. "I don't know why," he continued, "because I didn't really mean you any harm." At this, he finally turned to look at Kyle again. "If I bother you that much, then it would be best for me to leave you alone."

He moved to step off of the curb and move on when Kyle called out to him.

"What's your name?"

He was suddenly rather interested in this individual. Either this was a clever ploy to coax him away from the safety of the restaurant, or he really didn't mean any harm.

"Stan," the man said with a smile, now his entire body to face him.

Kyle debated stepping closer for a moment or two, then decided that he'd go ahead and take the chance. The guy seemed to be pretty mellow. That didn't mean that Kyle wasn't going to keep the can of mace in hand, just in case he decided to get stupid.

"So what is it you want, Stan?" he asked.

"Just to get to know you," Stan replied.

Ah, now it was starting to sound familiar again! He was trying to use the old 'get to know you' bit to get Kyle to let his guard down.

"Ha!" Kyle sneered. "You want to get to know me so I'll say 'yes' faster."

"No, Kyle," the other said, turning away again, "that isn't it at all."

He was getting pretty tired of this asshole turning his back like that. Where the hell were his fucking manners? Kyle moved around and stood in front of him, frowning suspiciously at him. The man looked at him sadly, as though his heart was breaking.

"Why do you have that stupid look on your face?"

Stan didn't answer. He just moved to the left, as if trying to dodge around Kyle. Kyle was having none of that, however. He just jumped backwards and got right in front of him again.

"No, no," he said mockingly, "you wanted to talk to me so bad. Come on, Stan."

"Look," Stan said with a frustrated sigh, "I wanted to get to know you for you, not what you could do for me or what you could give me. I don't know who hurt you bad enough to make you this bitter, but I wasn't trying to hurt you."

This was the wrong thing to say. Kyle's eyes filled with anger and he felt very tempted to slap the guy in the face. It was unnecessary, however, for the look of rage on his face caused Stan to back up several steps in alarm.

"I'm sorry," Stan said, remorseful, "I didn't mean it that..."

"What the hell do you know about hurt, you son of a bitch?" Kyle roared at him. "You think you know enough about me to lecture me on being bitter? You don't know shit!"

"You're right."

"I know I'm right, mother fucker!" the fiery red head continued. "I don't need you to tell me that I'm right. You come up here and bug me after work, trying to cuddle up to me after your little stunt earlier today, and you expect me to just roll over and let you rub my belly or something? It doesn't work like that, asshole! And in case you were wondering, I don't buy your innocent act for a second. You're a liar, and I'm too tired and pissed off to deal with you anymore!"

With that, Kyle stormed past Stan and was soon swallowed up by the night.

---

Stan got very little sleep that night. He was too busy punching his pillow and telling himself what a fucking idiot he was. He had gotten Kyle to start talking to him, had gotten him to let down his guard enough to be civil for awhile, and then...

"...I fucked it up royally," he muttered for what must have been the thousandth time that night. "Me and my big fucking mouth."

It never occured to him that he actually hadn't said anything wrong or that Kyle's outburst was just a result of the giant chip on his shoulder. No, all he could think about was how angry the red headed boy had been, and how it had been all his fault.