Inspired by sleepy, rainy morning bus rides spent asleep on my soon to be ex best friend's shoulder. I don't own South Park nor is my name Axl. Thanks for playing anyway.
When I look into your eyes, I can see a love restrained,
But darling when I hold you, don't you know I feel the same?
Nothing lasts forever and we both know hearts can change...
And it's hard to hold a candle in the cold November rain.
I love days like this.
It's the middle of April, a dreary Wednesday. By the time I clambered onto the bus, Stan was already passed out, head resting gently against the cool, rain-splattered glass of the window. His hat was knocked askew slightly and his raven locks spilled over his face, sweeping over his cheeks in a way I would make fun of him for later.
The bus was cool and quiet-everyone was asleep or listening to music or both. The rain was a nice change from the familiar drone of the bus engine.
Kyle yawned, making an adorable noise and rubbing one of his eyes sleepily. He plopped down next to his slumbering super-best friend. Apparently not too slumbering, anyway, though, judging by the way Stan's lips curled up into a smile. Maybe it's just the promise of body heat. The bus is a little chilly when it rains.
Everything in Kyle's hands goes in Stan's lap as soon as he sits down. This is a rule, whether it be a textbook or a novel or a phone or a notebook or anything else. Today it was just a new-looking hardback called Broken Flower. Stan's fingers curled around the edge just enough to prove he wasn't as asleep as he'd like everyone to believe. Kyle smiled, kissing him on the top of the head-earning a grin-and slouching down to wrap one of his arms around Stan's at the elbow and interlace their fingers, hands resting comfortably in the dip created by their thighs, pressed closely together.
Familiarly, Kyle snuggled down a little farther, pulled Stan's elbow back a little, pulled his legs up underneath himself, rested his head against his super-best's shoulder, and drifted off for a half-hour nap before we reached school.
I stared, fascinated, at the way the water on the window cast beautiful melting shadows across their pale skin, across their relaxed features and their clasped hands, over the back of Kyle's spare palm, resting comfortably on Stan's thigh.
When Stan was sure Kyle was asleep, he turned and kissed him lingeringly on the top of his head, nestling into his bright curls with a blissful expression. His eyes opened lethargically and met mine, freezing as his cheeks colored. But I merely smiled, too at peace to make any perverted jokes. I found my gaze transfixed on the way the pad of Stan's thumb stroked Kyle's smooth-looking skin, before shifting to the content smile softening Kyle's lips, then to the loving expression in Stan's sapphire eyes as he blinked slowly down at his super-best before returning to his original position.
Even Eric's arrogant demeanor faltered into a fond smile at the sight as he stepped onto the bus.
He sat down beside me-he used to take up most of the room but he's slimmed down, thank god, to just a little overweight-and whispered in my ear, unwilling to wake the slumbering pair, "It's amazing they aren't butt-fucking yet, isn't it? I've never seen two fags more head-over-heels."
But somehow, his crude words didn't break the spell, especially when Kyle, who often sleep talked when stimulated, whispered quietly and sincerely, "Love you."
"Love you more." Stan whispered back, obviously trying not to let us overhear. But I can read lips, so the gesture was kind of moot.
Don't you think that you need somebody?
Don't you think that you need someone?
Everybody needs somebody ...