sung by John Mayer
Grocery shopping sucks. Seriously. It sucks like nobody's business.
It's bad enough I had to part from the Xbox, but nooo. Mom had worse fate planned for me. Tell me, do all parents blackmail their children into chores? Because mine does, quite often. I don't even get how my dad is considered an adult.
Don't get me wrong, I love my parents. It's just sometimes they can be complete morons, you know? Specially dad. I lose respect for him sometimes.
As I reach out to get a box of Rice Krispies, a heavy weight on my shoulder has me leaning to the side and before I know it, some orange-clad dude has shoved me to the side, jumped into my shopping cart, his arms and legs hanging limply over the thin metal railing of the cart, and begun riding dangerously down aisle 5.
I stare at him with furrowed brows, racking my brain for any familiarity of the orange jacket, green hat, red curly hair..
I realize I don't know the guy. And that I don't mind that he'd just interrupted the chore I'd been dying to finish. In fact, I was kind of grateful- like he'd saved me from literally dying of boredom. As I watch him zip past shelves of produce, he briefly looks back over his shoulder and issues me a playful grin.
I can't seem to suppress the urge to smile back at him, just because I seldom ever see such a genuine smile. I quickly decide that I like this guy.
I wince involuntarily as the redhead goes flying through a rack of magazines. Without a second thought, I rush towards the mess of Maxims and Cosmo Girls and red hair and limbs as the anonymous dude groans and struggles to move against the weight of the magazine rack.
I gotta give him props. That landing was sick.
"Hey." I say, offering a hand. He looks up at me, hesitantly, but takes my hand nonetheless. "You okay?"
As he pushes random magazines away with his free hand and I hoist him up, he nods. "Yeah." And once again, he sends me that bright grin, that grin that makes me wanna be friends with him. "Thanks. I wouldn't expect that from someone whose grocery shopping I just ruined."
I was about to reply that it was no big deal when-
"AHEM." Ah, the manager. "OUT."
"So, what's your-
"Dude, Kyle!" A voice called before Kyle (that's his name, apparently) can finish. Looking back at the store's doors, I see a guy in an orange parka running towards us, tufts of blonde hair peeking out of his hoodie. "That was sick! I swear, we are going to be banned from all the stores in this town." He laughs. I'm surprised I understood him considering his voice was muffled.
Kyle laughs, and for some reason, I don't feel awkward laughing along with them.
"Seriously. I guess listening to you once and a while wouldn't be so bad." He says to blondie, before looking back towards me. "Hey. Sorry 'bout getting you kicked out."
"Naw. I was dying in there. I should actually be thanking you guys."
Kyle laughs. "Well, it was our pleasure. I'm Kyle. That's Kenny."
"Well, Stan." Kyle starts, grinning at me. "I believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship."
And a beautiful friendship it was.
It was weird 'cause it was like I was fated to meet Kyle, to have him hop on my shopping cart and have me kicked out of the local grocery store. Like meeting him any other way would've been wrong and everything wouldn't have ended up the way it did.
Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. But.. But what if you can't accept the ending? What if you wanted to change the stupid ending? What if you wanted the love of your life back and that you were willing to slay any dragon, defeat any witch just to get him back? What if you were still head over heels for the guy who left.. and who you wanted back?
I don't remember what happened last September.. But.. For some reason, he just.. left. Without so much as a goodbye..
And you know, if he just came back.. Just turned up by my doorstep and said "I'm sorry", I'd forgive him in a heartbeat.
I can't live happily without Kyle.. I mean, my life's nice, don't get me wrong. It's just.. I've found the person I was willing to spend the rest of my life with and it's just devastating to know that I've lost him.
"Oh, now I'm sure you're gonna forget about he-who-must-not-be-named if you're tapping that."
"Kenny." I sigh for the nth time, glaring at his crude remarks. Meh, who am I kidding? This is Kenny we're talking about. I should be surprised I'm still not used to this.
"I mean, Wendy Testaburger's like- She's-" Kenny makes an exaggerated cupping gesture over his chest, giving me a hard, knowing look. "You know?"
I roll my eyes, then shrug. "No, Kenny. I wouldn't know."
"Seriously?" His eyes widen, like the apocalypse has just arrived. "You're honestly saying you haven't slept with Wendy- Wendy Testosterone Burger?
I shake my head, very slightly amused at the comment.
"Well," He concludes, shaking his head. "You're in a deeper funk than I thought. Don't worry though. Kenny McCormick's here to make it all better. So, tonight?"
He grins, I laugh and the I immediately feel a lot better. "Dude. I doubt that'd make it better. Thanks for the offer though."
"Hey, you sure?" He slings an arm across my shoulder and I laugh louder. "Cause I can clear my schedule anytime for ya."
"I'm sure, Ken."
"Aw, shit! Goddamn, that hurt!"
"Stan!" Wendy snaps, sounding infuriated, and I don't know why she's angry at me when I just hit my fucking knee on the fucking steel table. Fuck. Seriously, is this supposed to hurt this much?
"Don't use the Lord's name in vain, Stan. It's in the commandments." She scolds. Commandments? Dude, I've met Jesus. I'm sure he's a nice enough guy to understand that the kneecap plus sudden impact to steel equals painful results.
But instead of retorting, I do the wise thing and avoid getting smacked and adding injury to injury by nodding my head and muttering out a bitter "Sure".
I wince at the sting. "Ow." I say, doing my best to suppress the string of curses just itching to slip out of my tongue.
"Shit! Motherfu- Damn it, Stan! You totally cheated!" Kyle accuses bitterly, pouting at the YOU LOSE! sign blinking back at him and crossing his arms defiantly. I laugh back, because it's the best way to further tease Kyle.
"Aw, come on, dude." I mock with a big-ass smile, draping a less than comforting arm across his shoulder. "Not my fault you suck at Super Street Fighter."
As I watch him, I see him peering kind of sheepishly at my hand.. My limp hand that's connected to the arm over his shoulders. With a small, insignificant twitch, my fingertips brush the smooth skin of his cheek and instantly, he blushes and tries to shrug my arm off. I keep it firmly in place.
Man, he's adorable.
"You alright, Kyle?" I tease, simply because it's fun. Kyle blushes deeper, his eyes darting at the contact, and he suddenly looks like a girl with that red tint against his pale cheeks. Damn, he's cute. I lean closer, letting my lips hover over his ear. "You look a little flushed." Oh, this is just too easy.
He turns to me, eyes narrowed dangerously and it reminds me of a red stoplight. "Fuck you, Stan." And then he smiles that smile he lets only ME see. That's MY smile right there.
I belt out a laugh. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"OMG, Wendy! You did such a great job with the decorations!"
"Thanks! I'm glad you noticed. We went all out this year, huh?"
"You did, you really did! Don't you think it's perfect, Stan?"
At the mention of my name, I raise a disinterested brow. "Yup. Perfect." I spit the word out like stale gum- it's just out of flavor.
"Dude! Check it out!" I hear Kyle cry. Peering sideways from my How To Handle Moronic Parents book, I see Kyle pulling something out from underneath my bed. And judging from his excited smile, it's either something totally cool or something really embarrassing. Let's all hope it's the former.
"What is that?" I cock my brow at what looked like a box. Huh. I don't remember putting any boxes under there.
"It's a bunch of old records, and look!" Tossing a few dusty records on my bed, Kyle pulls out a-
"Oh! Oh, now I remember! Oh man. I tossed that box down under there like, ages ago. I can't believe I forgot about it." I crawl over the bed, towards Kyle.
"Seriously, dude. This is some treasure." He says, and I can see the sincerity and awe laced in his voice as he stares at the record player in his hands. He reminds me of the time he got his Xbox. We stayed up for hours playing and eventually just ended up sprawled on the floor, unconscious and smiling.
Suddenly, a soft tune echoes in the background and I see Kyle beaming at me, his hands hovering over the record player.
"DUDE!" I bellow, because I haven't heard this song in ages! "Do you know who this is?"
He scoffs, like that was a stupid question to ask. "Miles is like, a legend."
"You've gotta be kidding me. You actually know David Miles? Do you know how many teenagers in this hick town even listen to jazz? Fuck Kyle, you are my soulmate!" I grab his tiny frame and squeeze the life out of him. I just- Is it possible to feel unimaginable bliss because the one person that you thought was inexplicably perfect just got even MORE perfect? Is it possible to love your best friend- the one person who's just as sane as you in a town like South Park- more than you probably should? Is it possible that Kyle Broflovski just may truly be my soul mate?
"Stan. STAN. STAN!" He laughs despite my actions and it occurs to me that yes, all of those are possible. "Dude, get the fuck off me. I wanna listen to some more of these." He pushes me away as I loosen my grip and he turns back to the stack of dusty, web-collecting records in the box. I start to wonder how an ancient box filled with equally ancient music and a strangely still functional music player can bring me to the conclusion that Kyle Broflovski is undoubtedly the one I want to spend the rest of my life with- best friend or, preferably, more than that. I just want his Jewish nose and clown hair and pale skin and thin figure and oh, that ass.
I swear, Bebe wasn't kidding.
Suddenly, a different song plays and I feel like kissing Kyle for even knowing it. "Coltrane?"
He nods, a prideful grin on his face. "Coltrane."
That's when I'd made up my mind- Kyle was the one I was gonna marry. I mean, where else am I gonna find a sensible, smart, hilarious, jazz-lovin' Jew like him? Yeah. Nowhere else.
"You guys are like, the cutest couple EVER! You are totally gonna win Prom Queen, Wendy."
Oh God. Kill me. Kill me now. Please, just smite me with thunder or something. Have mercy and spare me all the talks of being Prom King and being half of the cutest couple and being so lucky because I'm with perfect, perfect, perfect Wendy.
Wendy clings to my arm and I don't doubt she's wearing that feigned cutesy smile she uses to charm everyone. Surprisingly, it works. But it still annoys the hell outta me.
Really.. When did everything become so fucking perfect?
"Wendy- Wendy is," Kyle stammers. "S-she's head over heels for you, Stan!" He screams and I don't know if it's to remind me or himself. His eyes begin to glaze over and I can just feel my heart shattering. I don't even realize how my hand is desperately clutching at my chest, willing to wrench that stupid organ out of me. "She's pretty and smart and perfect-"
"Perfect?" I scoff, my voice cracking, as I feel hot tears stinging my eyes. "Wendy is not perfect, Kyle. I've seen perfect."
"Don't do this, Stan." He shakes his head weakly, his voice quivering. "Just don't. This'll just mess everything up."
"You. You're perfect! You're loyal and nice and smart and funny and everything, EVERYTHING Wendy isn't! You're YOU, Kyle! That's why I love you."
There. There it is, out in the open.
I cradle his head and watch as those green eyes widen in shock. As the rain pounds unforgivably on us, I let out a sigh. "Kyle.." I look up, into those green eyes that are visibly leaking tears. My heart cracks and it takes all my will not to break down with him. "I love you because you're dorky and.. and you have stupid red hair and you have that crooked smile that looks so unbelievably adorable, if you only knew.. You're contagious laugh and thin frame..
"I love you 'cause you're not perfect.. I don't care if Wendy's the most beautiful girl in the world.. I will only ever fall in love with one person."
Before I know it, he's pressed his lips against mine and I can just feel my heart beating unnaturally fast, my lungs starting to dysfunction by the touch. Oh God, this feels good! I squeeze him tighter, closer, just for this unbearably blissful feeling. He's wet, we're wet from the pouring rain and the falling tears but I don't care. I don't care. All I want is him.
Imperfect Kyle. That's all I'll ever want.
When we break apart, I don't let go. I rest our foreheads together, reveling in that heavenly sensation only Kyle can make me feel. Only Kyle.
"For the record.." He breathes and smiles that smile from the first time I met him.. That smile I fell for. "I love you too."
Our love was comfortable and so broken in.
She's perfect, so flawless
I'm not impressed.
I w a n t y o u b a c k .
A/N: Based on John Mayer's Comfortable. I swear, I've been in love with that song since I first heard it two years ago. I hope you'll come to like this fic. :) Oh, and for some reason, I can't open my FFN account on the laptop so I'll try opening it on the computer when I get home so I won't be able to put this up there till later. HOPE YOU ENJOY THE FIC. :)