AN: I haven't had a story write itself in ages. Meaning this one did. For those who know of my plans for a new style fic…this AINT it. No, this is something completely different. It's for imaginaaation. Dear, this is my "drabble" for you. I don't really do drabbles, I don't like things that short. I always feel incomplete. In any case, each chapter goes into a different POV of a different boy.
Warnings: Swearing, homo's, OOCness, slight violent themes, and grammar issues that never get better with age.
Disclaimer: If I owned South Park there'd be new episodes out by now. Burn.
I. TWO PEOPLE
They never had any real problems. It was Stan and Kyle after all. Sure they got in a few random fights, about the usual stupid shit, but they were both pretty quick about apologizing. What they had, while making me sick most of the time, made me envious. I wanted what they had with each other with someone, or at least deep down I did. It wasn't something that I would have readily admitted to anyone at the time.
Fucking around, going to parties, drinking, that was good enough for me. I mean, shit, we were, ARE only 21. Still too young to be settling down in my opinion.
But those two…they might've well as settled down when they realized they had a boner for each other back in 6th grade. At the same time I could never see either of them spending the rest of lives with anyone else other than each other. That's just how tight they were. As friends and as lovers. That was Stan and Kyle. That's always how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to be able to meet up with them twenty years down the line, trailing my wife and brats along with me. We were supposed to all have conversations about how even two decades later they could still get each other hot and bothered over the most passive of sexual innuendoes.
That's how it was gonna be.
Instead, what am I doing but sitting here looking back and forth at Kyle and my girlfriend of the month. I haven't bothered to put a shirt on since they've both seen me in less. But she looks a bit uncomfortable, and Kyle…Kyle looks like he's about to throw up.
The silence is killing me. But he was the one that came knocking on my door at 2 AM looking like a depressed nervous wreck. I'm in the middle of an odd situation, and it's only gonna get odder, I can tell. The very idea that Kyle even came to ME of all people, is freaking me out. Of course we're buds, but I'm not dumb enough to think we're best friends. I've always been closer to Stan, just like Kyle's always been closer to Cartman (even if he'd deny that to the seventh layer of hell).
"Alright, what?" I finally ask. I can't take it anymore. This air is driving me fucking NUTS.
Kyle fiddles with his hands before looking up at me, and then he steals a glance at my girlfriend.
I look over at her. "Karen, mind taking off for the night?"
She looks surprised by my question, which probably sounded more like a demand, and she almost opens her mouth to protest until she sees my raised eyebrow. She knows exactly where she stands in my life and it's not even in the top ten.
"Fine," she responds and rises abruptly. I think she wants to say something to Kyle, but looking at his miserable face seems to stop her.
Kyle and I say nothing as she heads back into my bedroom, getting her things together, putting on a few extra layers of clothes and taking off. I made sure to give her a small wave, a 'I'll give ya a call when I get the chance' wave. There's no reason for her to think I'm tossing her aside, friendships just more important to me. It always has been.
"So what's up?" I ask. "Was Cartman not home?"
He glares at me briefly before shaking his head. "I can't…I can't go to him with this."
"…Okay." I was almost tempted to ask him where the hell Stan was. But that would have been a stupid question. Kyle wouldn't be here if Stan wasn't the problem.
"Stan and I had a fight," he says simply. So simply in fact, that alarms start to go off in my brain and I force myself to look a little bit closer at the red head in front of me. He looks haggard. His clothes are rumpled and he's in the same orange zip up sweatshirt, with the same green puffed vest and blue jeans I remember him wearing yesterday. His brown sneakers are only half tied, and his red curls are limply hanging around his face.
I watch him as he gathers his hands together and presses them against his forehead. Like he's trying to will himself to continue, which I realize he probably is.
"This…wasn't some everyday, you left your shit on the floor, fight was it?" I question softly.
"Remember last weekend, when we all went out to that club in Denver?" He asks, rather than answering my question.
"Yeah," I nod. "Stan had to drag you because you hate clubs."
He only nods to this and takes a moment before he continues. "And do you remember…well maybe you don't, because you were talking with Stan, but Tweek came up to me and he asked me to dance?"
I can't help but to grin slightly. Yeah I remember. The both of them were tipsy as hell. Then again, tipsy is what it takes for the two of them to get the courage to shake their rhythm less asses on a dance floor.
"I remember perfectly actually. Watching you two "dance" was a lot more amusing then debating with Stan."
"Oh?" Kyle squeaks out, but he suddenly looks a little bit more alert. "We were just dancing right, me and Tweek? I mean, I wasn't drunk. It's not like I don't remember what happened but…"
"But you still had some four drinks," I finish for him.
"Yeah…so?" He looks at me expectantly and I'm starting to wonder why he needs to know so badly. But it seems like he really has to, so I pause to remember the night before I answer him.
"You guys were dancing." I state. "Laughing, giggling, acting like school girls." I grin at him. "Nothing out of the ordinary. I mean…Kyle, what exactly are you looking for me to say to you?"
"What kind of dancing were we doing? Like…was I an arm's length apart from Tweek, or were we grinding or what?"
"I'd hardly call what you two did grinding, since that requires being in sync with the person across from you."
He gives me a pained looked.
"But that's probably what it was. It's not like it was dirty though," I rush on when I see the color drain from his face. "I mean, Jesus Christ Kyle. It was you and TWEEK. YOU and Tweek. Two friends getting their freak on, nothing to be ashamed about." I pause for a couple minutes to study him. He's thinking about something and as he does so the color comes back to his face. "Dude, Kyle…why are you asking me this?"
"Stan hit me."
I stare at him. What did he say?
Kyle's eyeing me warily and he swallows quietly, but the sound echoes in my tiny apartment.
"I mean, we hit each other all the time," he rushes out. "When I get pissed, sometimes I push him against a wall, or I'll kick him or something, and he'll do the same. We'll yell at each other, and swear, and tell each other to fuck off. But it's always been on equal terms, if that makes any sense."
I continue to stare, because I've never heard about any of this. "No, it doesn't," I tell him dully. "Explain it to me."
He sighs and doesn't say anything for a moment. "It's never over anything serious really…that's just how we fight. We can't just…talk things out, sometimes we get a little physical but it never really hurts the other person."
I shake my head silently in complete disapproval, but say nothing to it. I hadn't known they had those sorts of fights, but apparently it's not out of the ordinary with either of them. "What made this time different then?" I ask Kyle, which seems to be the question he was waiting for.
"This time…we…" he stops and I realize because it looks like he's about to cry.
"Kyle, dude," I say quietly and inch a little closer to him. I'm not that into physical contact with other guys, even if they ARE my friends so I'm hoping my mere presence is enough for him at the moment. "What?" I press.
"When we fight it's never anything damaging. There's never evidence left and we never hit above the neck. It's just an unsaid rule. That would mean we went too far."
This startles me and suddenly my eyes rove over Kyle's exposed face, looking for bruises, scratches, anything. He obviously sees this and shakes his head.
Kyle's curls completely frame his face. They run over his forward and cover his ears and a good portion of the upper part of his neck. So it's not surprising that I didn't see anything until he lifts his hair away from his right ear.
And I freeze for just a split second before my hands make their way to examine the large purplish bruise that's covering the bottom part of his lobe, upper jaw and upper neck line. I touch it gently with shaking hands, and just that slight touch causes Kyle to cringe.
"Does it hurt?" I breathe out.
I drop my hand to my side and look at Kyle. He looks back before he looks away. Unable to stand it, I'm sure.
I stand up and head to my room, tossing on a sweatshirt and slipping on some sneakers. Once changed, I head back into the living room, bypassing Kyle without a word and heading toward my front door.
"Where're you going?" He calls out nervously.
"Where do you think? I'm going to your place to fuck Stan up."
Kyle jumps up just as my hand reaches the doorknob, stopping me. "No!" He cries out.
"What?" I ask, as I slowly turn around to look at his frantic features. "You just told me he smacked you, and then you showed me what it left you with. What did you think I was gonna do Kyle? Say, oh damn that sucks, and let it go? Of course not! I thought you two agreed no hitting above the neck?! Didn't he just violate that agreement?!"
"Yeah but…I didn't tell you so that you could go over there and beat the shit out of him Kenny. You know you'd both only end up in the hospital together."
He's got a point there. Stan and I match equally in strength, but I've got a lot of anger right now. I'm sure it'd make my punches a hell of a lot more powerful than his.
"I just had to tell someone," Kyle continues. "And then I'd hoped you'd let me stay the night. To give Stan time to cool off…I know he didn't mean it. He'll be regretting it come morning, you'll see."
Kyle's hand is firmly on my wrist. He has no intention of letting me leave, even though I have half a mind to toss him aside and leave anyway. The way he's saying all this…it's how my parents started out. How my mom used to say, way back when I was 5 that my dad didn't mean to hit her. Then again, those two have got a special kind of relationship because it wasn't long before my mom hit back and I learned to ignore it. I only did that because it didn't seem like either of them were helpless. They both got hurt, equally so, so I figured that made their relationship okay.
But Kyle and Stan are not my parents. Kyle's no damsel in distress, but he's not Stan's size either.
"I don't like this Kyle," I tell him bluntly.
He looks apologetic and nods his head, but he doesn't release his grip on me.
"Fine, I say, dropping my hand from the knob.
"Thanks Ken," he sighs relieved. Releasing me we step back into the living room and I pull out the couch sofa so he can sleep on it.
He helps me out, and helps me make the bed with the one extra set of sheets and blankets that I have. I quickly notice that he didn't bring a change of clothes, or anything for that matter. Seems like the only thing he had on his mind when he left Stan's was to bolt. Something that does not sit well with me.
I give him an extra pair of my PJ's to change into and while he does so I study him. Not in a perverted way, but I'm already looking for any other marks on him. I know he knows that I'm doing so, but he doesn't say anything to it. Once changed, I watch him step into the couch bed.
I don't move from the side of the bed and whether Kyle's uncomfortable with me staring down at him in silence or not, he doesn't say. Though it's like a sudden wave of tiredness overcomes him because his eyes start to flutter.
"Is that why he hit you?" I ask suddenly and Kyle's eyes snap back open, only to look up at my stained ceiling.
He doesn't bother to play around with my sudden question. He knows what I mean. "Because I was dancing with Tweek?" He asks for confirmation.
"Yeah, is that why?"
"I think that's part of it…I'm not sure of the other reasons."
He clearly doesn't want to talk about it anymore because he shifts his body so that his back is to me. Even so, I reach over and gently squeeze his shoulder.
"Night man," I say gently.
"Night," he mumbles back.
As I start to head back to my room I hear him shuffle against the blankets. "Thanks Ken," he says. It stops me in my short hallway and I look back at him.
Rather than proceed to my room I feel myself lean against my wall and slide down. "Sure thing," I mutter back as I hit the flooring. Sitting there in the slight darkness I watch as Kyle falls to sleep. I have a list of crap I've gotta do tomorrow so I ought to be heading to bed myself. Instead I know that won't be happening. I suddenly can't bear the thought of leaving him unsupervised.
I know nothing's gonna happen to him tonight, especially in my place, but I've got this overwhelming urge to watch him sleep. To make sure he'll be okay.
I'm still trying to come to terms that Stan and Kyle EVER got physical with each other, let alone that Stan took it further than either of them ever allowed. I mean…maybe other people have those kinda problems, but them?
I don't know how I'm going to be able to face Stan the next time I see him without punching his face. Especially since Kyle's probably not gonna want me to tell Stan that I know. He didn't say that, but I figure he wouldn't want me too.
Kyle's put me in one awkward position, but it doesn't seem real to me. I'm having a hard time fathoming that this is all real.
They're two people who are supposed to be perfect for each other.
Two people that give people like me hope that I can find someone for me just like they did.
These are a couple of my closest friends.
Two people who're supposed to be in love, enough to make me gag.
What the fuck happened?
Kyle getting hit over dancing, DANCING, with Tweek Tweak? No, that can't be it. Kyle must not be telling me something.
I bang my head quietly against my wall and close my eyes.
And at that moment, that's when I knew it. That's when I knew the little rose colored world of happiness, love, and admiration was completely over.