ANOTHER STORY. I know I know, I suck. I keep making new stories and not updating the old ones. But too bad, deal with it.
There is something that I gotta say.
It's disgusting, how I love you.
God, I hate me. I could kill you.
Cause your messing up my name.
Gotta walk my talk my fame, but I just want to touch your face.
I love the color orange. I love the simplicity yet total rarity that it has, if that makes any sense. It's one of the most well-known colors, yet it's sort of a rare occurrence naturally. And when you pair orange up with shaggy blonde hair and eyes the color of the ocean, you get that image of the perfect boy and you're kind of star-struck because you're not sure if you saw an angel or what. Then, if you're still not sold, you say something and he laughs. And that little laugh is what gets you addicted. It's what gets you falling, hook, line, and sinker.
If you haven't guessed by now, I'm in a bit of a predicament. I have an extremely strong admiration for a friend of mine, and it's sort of been building up for a while now to the point where I think I actually like him. Like-like, not just friend-like. Which isn't exactly okay, if you think about it. I'm a boy, he's a boy, I like dicks, he likes chicks. Only it's more of an exception sort of situation. You see, he's the only boy I've ever thought of this way. And I also have (as does any other guy alive) the biggest crush on Bebe Stevens, Miss Head Cheerleader.
Kenny's different though. I know that I'm only like, fifteen and my hormones are running wild and my dick wants to bone everything in sight and shit, but he's kind of different. It makes me feel dirty thinking of Kenny in bed like that, and it's not even like I get that whole "butterflies in your stomach" thing around him. I just think he's beautiful, basically. His eyes are the most amazing blue I've ever seen, and he has this shaggy blonde hair with a fringe that falls right on top of his eyelashes. He's got light freckles across his nose, and he has a lip piercing. Don't even get me started about the boy's lips. Dear God, his lips are the perfect "kiss me" size.
So basically, to sum it all up, I'm a faggot. In both the queer way, and the "dude you're a faggot" way, and if you're a boy, you get what I mean. And I know you're probably thinking "Wow, Bradley, you're gay and this is just another one of those forbidden love stories where you whine and cry and grow ovaries and cry some more until you get the guy which you totally will in the end, bye". But this is different. Trust me. After all, you'd be a bitch not to trust Mintberry Crunch after I saved your asses back in the fourth grade. I'll try not to disappoint you though, my dears, with my not-so-amazing life. You know, with the whole high schooler by day, crime stopper by night, queer-o all the time life. But whatever.
"Bradley, you fag, hurry up." Kyle shot me a look, pouting whilst brushing his red bangs out of his eyes. For your information, I would like to mention this so Kyle doesn't get butthurt, but Kyle no longer has a jewfro. His hair is very well-kept and his eyes are minty and his ass is nice. (Happy, Kyle? I didn't mention the fact that you snore like a kitten and you prance instead of run. Oh, oops.)
"I'm sorry, I'm just tired." I rubbed my eyes, lazily following after him to Stan's house. We never really outgrew the whole Coon and Friends thing. Well, I didn't at least. I mean, I have powers, why not use them? But we kind of have a permanent hang-out now, which instead of being Cartman's basement, it's Stan's basement. Which is nicely built and warm and looks like it belongs in Token's house, with the flat screen t.v. And his xbox and all that shit.
"Well just hurry up! It's gonna start raining and we're gonna get stuck in the rain and you're going to get sick." Kyle's the woman out of the group, obviously. Though Craig is the one making us sandwiches, but I'm kind of afraid to call him a woman.
"Okay, mom, gosh." I pick up the pace a little, even though I'm basically dead from rolling around South Park last night and stopping some late night/early morning Tom foolery. But I couldn't tell Kyle that. He'd call me a douche and other mean things. Ha not that I care, I just don't want to tell them all.
A few minutes later, we're in Stan's basement, with Craig at the island making sandwiches, and one of Stan's mom's home-baked cookies between my teeth, watching Cartman and Kyle verse each other in some Call of Duty game or whatever.
"Stupid Jew rat! Fucking burn!" And he flameshot Kyle's character, and Kyle threw his wii control at Cartman's head, and then they were going to joust or whatever, but Stan pulled Kyle off of Cartman, and Cartman was all "Screw you gahs, I'm going home". The usual.
"Hey baby, you know I can't resist you..." Kenny purred, sitting in my lap and wrapping an arm around my neck.
"You're giving me such a wetty." I wink at him and he laughs, because I have pick-up lines that seem like I was molested by Hello Kitty but just hearing his laugh is fine for me. Sounds kind of... I don't know, forget that.
"Go make-out somewhere else, guys, this is me and Kyle's couch." Stan smirked, straddling Kyle's lap and he kissed him, and Clyde cried. No, Clyde didn't cry because Stan and Kyle are gay, Clyde cried because Craig forgot to put pickles on his sandwich.
It's another normal night in Stan's basement.
It's disgusting, how you changed me.
From a bandit to a baby.
Thinking about gotta change my name,
If I'm gonna walk this walk of shame.
Look at what you do to me.
Sorry for the shit, short first chapter. I'm kind of in a rush to get this out, but I swear, next chapters will be longer and more detailed. And sorry for my shit writing. And yes, this story is mainly BradleyxKenny, but has side pairings. NOT ALL GAY.