6Hello! Been a week since last update, and this one will be the last one. Unfortunately (or not?) this story has come to an end in this chapter. For me, it's been a long journey and a great accomplishment, as I usually never go through with a whole story like this, much less one of twenty thousand some od words. So horray for me!
And by the way, for me, the day I publish this last chapter, it's really is May 26th. Here in Quebec, Canada, anyway. You'll know why I said this later on.
As you might suspect, I don't own South Park. Matt Stone and Trey Parker do.
Anyhoot, read on, chers lecteurs, pour la dernière fois.
I woke with a groan of pain.
Ugh! Fuck, it hurt! I felt like I had been pummeled by a fucking brute and I was lying in a hospital bed in casts, 'cause I couldn't even move it hurt so much. It felt like my bones were made of glass and if I did move, they were so fragile they would break. So I was contented to lay there on my side while the pain went on.
When it subsided, I found the strength to move. I rolled onto my back and pulled the blankets higher over my head, creating my own little world of darkness.
Wait... Blankets? That I could move without having to use the strength to move Cartman off his fat ass? I threw them off my head and sat up in the bed. My bed. In my room. In my house. I looked to my desk and saw that the time was half past midnight. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and saw the date to be May twenty-sixth. My birthday.
I brought my hand and examined it in the moonlight that was filtering through my window. It looked solid and it still fucking hurt. Did that mean I was alive?
I jumped out of bed and landed with a heavy thud and a yelp. I got out too fast and fell to my knees, who'd failed me when I'd landed. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and my door flew open to reveal my mom in all her nightly glory.
She had huge hair curlers in her fiery hair and was wearing her most comfortable nightgown, wich was probably quite a few years old. She came in and helped me up.
"Are you okay, buhbby?" she asked, concerned.
I laughed as I sat down on my bed and she looked at me in confusion. "Yes, mom. I've never been better."
"Are you sure? Why did you fall, then?"
"Mom, I'm fine, I'm sure. Don't worry," I said and went in for a hug.
She stood frozen a moment bofore returning the gesture, because I never gave hugs usually, much less took them. It felt so good, the human contact, after being starved of it for so long. I clutched at her as if I would be ripped away at any moment (wich wasn't entirely out of the question). I had never really appreciated moments like this before, and it took death to make me understand how much I missed them. I guess you really don't know what you've got until it's gone, as the song goes.
I pulled away after a long moment and my mother looked at me curiously. "What was that for?" she asked. "It's not like I'm going anywhere soon, buhbby."
"I know, it's just..." I paused, searching for words. "I just really love you guys. You, dad, Ike, even my damn-" she gave a look that said language, young man. "-annoying cousin Kyle."
She smiled a warm motherly smiled and got up to leave. "I'm glad you think that, Kyle number Two," she grinned and left me alone to scowl at her. I'd really hated that episode of my life. I mean, I was her son, for Christ's sake! Why the fuck was I number two?!
I lay back down on my bed and grabbed my phone. Music. Oh, how wonderful music was, it's beautiful rythm and harmony of all the different instruments. I was the best art form, in the eyes of many people, and it has never sounded better than now. After a month without, it was divine.
I scrolled through my song list and saw an unfamiliar one. I clicked on it and the first notes were heard.
So sick of the hobo's, always beggin' for change
I don't like how I gotta work, and they just sit around and get paid
I hate all of the people who can't drive their cars
Bitch you better get out of the way before I start falling apart
I hate how my wife is always up my ass
She always wants to buy brand new things but I don't have the cash
I hate my job, all of my rich friends
I hate everyone to the bitter end
Nothing turns out right, there's no end in sight
I hate my life
How come I never get laid, nice guys always lose
How could she have another headache, there's always some kind of excuse
I still hate my job, my boss is a dick
I don't get paid nearly enough to put up with all of your shit
I hate my job, all of my rich friends
I hate everyone to the bitter end
Nothing turns out right, there's no end in sight
I hate my life
I hate that I can't tell when a girl's underage
You know, I tell her she's a nice piece of ass
then her daddy punches me in the face
So if you're pissed like me, bitches here's what ya gotta do
Put your middle fingers up in the air, go on and say "Fuck You"
I hate my job, all of my rich friends
I hate everyone to the bitter end
Nothing turns out right, there's no end in sight
I hate my life
So much at stake, can't catch a break
I hate my life
No, it's nothing new hearing "it sucks to be you"
I fuckin' hate my life!
Fuck!
I chuckled at the lyrics. Yeah, that was a song Stan put in there. Probably at the time I'd forgotten my phone at his house. It most definitely wasn't my doing; it was way too different from my usual pop and classical musical tastes. It was also the kind of music that my mom hated oh-so-much and had even led a 'crusade' to get it banned. Much good that did. Stan said hat it was all he could listen to, that everything else sounded like shit. Stan also thought that...
Wait, wait wait... Holly shit! Stan! How the fuck could I forget the main reason I went through all that ordeal?! I almost got Kenny killed, on top of it! And Kenny! How was he doing?! I have to see them!
I lept out of bed, despite my body's protests a and landed on my feet with little more grace that earlier. I threw on a random pair of pants and shirt that were laying around on the floor. I rushed out of my room after I had grabbed my green ushanka. I descended the staires two at a time and was out the door in a rush of wind, throwing on my orange jacket and stumbling as I got my boots on right. I sped down the road to the raven's house as fast as I could.
I got there, hoping that the lights downstairs were still on. They weren't. That meant that to get to Stan, I'd have to climb through the window. I ran to the back yard and climbed until I was outside his window. Thankfully, it wasn't locked, so I entered without difficulty. I tumbled onto the floor next to his bed in the dark room.
He was sound asleep, despite all the noise I'd just made. I snorted. He could've slept through World War II, if he'd been there. He was splayed out on the mattress, only on his boxers, as the sheets had been kicked off long ago, if their crumpled heap at the bottom of the he bed was any indication.
I approached his side, suddenly apprehensive about this whole thing. My earlier exitement and sens of urgency gave way to nervousness and a tinge of... fear? What the fuck for? Hadn't he told me that he loved me since seventh grade? Like, twice? I pushed that stupid feeling aside and looked at him.
His gentle, boyish features were marred by a grimace. His hair was sleep-tussled and sticking out at odd angles. His toned body was exposed to the moonlight, delicately tracing the curves of his muscles and casting long shadows in the room. He looked absolutely gorgeous like that and all I wanted to do was touch him. So I did.
I ran my finger down his abbs, feeling the smooth skin under my first fingertips. He moved in his sleep and I froze. He shifted a bit and remained sleeping. I let out my breath and continued moving my hand up his chest, grazing a nipple oh-so-slightly on the way wich made him breathe out in a rush. My hand came to his cup his cheek and then moved a stray strand of hair from his forehead.
I placed my hand back to his cheek, gathered my courage, bent down and kissed him. On the lips. I pulled back immediately when I felt him twitch.
"Who..." he groaned and his eyes fluttered open. I stood frozen by the side of the bed and he layer his gaze upon me. "Kyle?" I shuddered at my name. Fuck! Why was I so nervous?! He told me he loved, like, twice! Twice! Get a fucking hold of yourself, Broflovski!
"Yes...?" I replied.
"What are you doing here?" he asked in confusion as he sat up.
"I-uh... I came to, uuuh..." I was at a loss for words. So decided to show him.
I swooped forward and pressed my lips to his, grabbing his shouldest to steady myself. He stayed there, probably shocked, for a moment, before pulling me down onto the bed beside him.
"What was that for?" he asked after we broke away.
"Well... I..." I was never a good one for dealing with emotions, much less expressing them. "I know that you like me... and I never got a real chance to tell you, so here I am..." I chocked out, cringing, for whatever reason.
I felt his gaze like fire on me. "How did you know that?" he asked. "Did Kenny tell you? If he did, I'm gonna fucking kill-"
"No!" I cried a little too loudly. "No," I continued on a lower tone. "You told me, twice. Don't you remember?"
"What? I never said anything like that to anyone. Kenny was the only person who knew, and that was only because he figured it out on his own."
"Dude! I went from Hell to Heaven and back to be with you! I talked to fucking Satan and God himself to be back!" I said as I sat up and faced him.
"The fuck are you talking about?" he sat up, too, confusion written all over his face.
"Stan. The storm last night, Kenny?" I pushed. "You don't remember anything?"
"What is there to remember?" he asked. "And there was no storm last night. That was a week ago."
I sighed. I guess I was relieved, in a way. No need to explain too much. "Anyway, none of that is important. You're all that counts," I said and smiled.
"Yeah..." he agreed. "Hey... can we do that again?" he asked.
I nodded and he leaned toward me, capturing my lips in his. It was chaste at first, then he brushed his tongue lightly over my lower lip, asking for entrance. I granted him access and we engaged in a battle for territory. Eventually, I let him have dominance and he pushed me down on the bed, climbing over me. He rode my shirt up as he pushed his hands under it. His fingertips brushed my sensitive buds and I moaned. He took one and toyed with it, forcing me to try and hold back the noises I wanted to let out. Such a tease.
It felt so good, to have Stan here, like this, with me. I was what I'd wanted for ages and I finally had it. It was a dream come true. Literally. I decided I would go see Kenny tomorrow and thank him for what he did for me.
But for now, I was enjoying this.
...
Figuring that since it had been a week, Kenny must be out of the hospital. I left Stan's house with a huge grin plastered on my face and headed to the blonde's house.
It was Mrs. McCormick that answered the door and invited me in to wait for Kenny.
"I'd offer you some tea," she said as we sat at the kitchen table. "But we don't have any. You want some beer instead?" it easy a serious question.
"No, that's okay," I smiled in apology. I would never really understand Kenny's family. What kind of person would offer beer like tea to their guests? These guys, I suppose.
"Oh, alright then. Kenny!" she shouted down the hall. "Your friend is here! Get your ass outta bed!"
"I'm coming!" came the growled reply from the door at the end of the hallway.
A few minutes later, the blonde came into the room looking disheveled and giving his earlier reply a second meaning, by the looks of it. I shuddered and grimaced and he smirked. Carol left us to our things and he sat down across from me.
"Hey, dude," came the usual greeting.
"Hey yourself," I said. "How you been?"
"Not too bad for someone who got hit by high tension electrical cable. I've been through worst." he stated as if everything was of utmost normalcy. Wich, at this point, I guess it was.
"Shit, yeah. How did that go? Like, after I was gone?" I asked.
"Well, I don't know much. I was in the hospital all of last week and they only let me out Sunday. I know Stan was a fucking pain in the ass, always by my side and always asking me if the whole thing would work. I managed to survive that and came out of it with a pretty sweet scar, too."
He lifted his shirt to reveal it. There was a circle the size of a quarter on the right side of his chest, about two inches bellow his collarbone. From it stemmed a whole bunch of branches like lighting bolts themselves, reaching up to the back of his neck and down into his jeans. The skin was still pink and it looked like it hurt like heck. It was a somewhat facinating and awesome scar.
"Awesome, dude." I said.
"I know right?" He said excitedly and put his shirt back down. "I'm glad I did that thing, now that I know I didn't kill myself to get you back. Though I wouldn't be surprised if Stan didn't remember a thing."
"No, he doesn't. But why?"
"Because you know how I told you that I was immortal, but you never remembered and how it took other people to tell you so that you could remember?" I nodded. "Well, this is the same thing. Everything to do with your death and your coming back is forgotten; all the evidence is erased from existance. No one knows that you died, now, except me, 'cause I'm immortal. Don't be surprised if people find funeral clothes that they don't remember buying."
"Holly shit that's fucked up. We really are God's fuck-up town." I sighed.
"Ha! No shit. Anyway, I'm not immortal anymore, I think." he said.
"How do you know?"
"Just a gut feeling. And I'm not exactly keen to find out the hard way, so I'll just be careful."
"Good idea," I added.
"So, speaking of Stan, how'd it go?" He asked, curiosity sparkling in his sky blue orbs. "Did you tell him? What'd he do?"
"Yes I told him, and we're fine now. It's like a dream come true." I smiled.
"That's good," he said a and his gaze changed a bit, but I couldn't quite place what it was as it was gone before I could say. "I can't believe that you never noticed it before."
"He's my best friend, why the fuck would he ever want to change that? He looked completely normal to me, Hell, he was even with Wendy not too long ago!"
"But everyone kept telling you guys. Why didn't you listen?"
"Probably because I thought it was complete bullshit at the time," I stated.
"Good point." he conceded."Anyway, I'll let you get back to your lover and I'll get back to mine," he winked and I scowled.
"You really are something, Kenny McCormick," I got up and went to to the door.
"I am the One and Only," he grinned and returned to his room when I left the house.
Today was a new day. And my birthday. I groaned and went home to 'celebrate'. At least I had Stan there now to suffer with me.
...
I went to my room when he left and let my mask fall. My shoulders slumped as I fell onto my now empty bed, as the girl was gone.
Fuck, he looked so happy. And I was happy, too, in a way. Happy that he was happy. Yeah, that was it. I wonder why I'd agreed to help him in the first place.
Oh yeah. I loved him.
Stupid as I was, I decided to help him pursue his quest when all I had to do was keep him to myself. I was the only one who could see him like that and I could have kept it like that forever, if I wanted to. And I did, believe me, I did. But I saw the desperation in his eyes when he came to me and I just couldn't say no. I would have felt too guilty keeping him miserable for my own selfish desires. And he was my friend. I would do anything to help my friends, even Cartman, if need be. It was was in my ways of living, my principals, my code of conduct, if you wish.
So here I was, fucking depressed while he was out there frolicking with his boyfriend and all happy. Fuck karma. 'You get what you deserve' they say. But what the Hell did I ever do to deserve this?!
A knock on my window startled me from my thoughts. I moved the curtain to reveal a smiling Butters with a bag thrown over his shoulder. I opened the glass pane and let him climb through.
"Hey there, Kenny!" he greeted brightly.
"Hey, Butters," I returned somewhat less enthusiastically.
"Gee, Ken, what's wrong?" he asked when he set his bag on my bed.
"It's nothing, don't worry," I dismissed.
He frowned. "Now, now," he put an arm around my shoulders and heat flooded my cheeks. Strange. "I have just the thing for to make you feel better,"
He guided me to the bed, sat down and rummaged through his backpack, to come out with a metal container in hand. He pushed it into my hands and I opened it.
The sweet scent of baked goods hit me instantly. I saw that it was chocolate chip cookies that I was holding, still warm from the oven. I grabbed one and took a big bite of it, relishing the taste of the melting chocolate on my taste buds.
"Oh my fucking God, Butters, these are amazing," I said around stuffing another cookie in my mouth.
"They are?" he asked. "I made them myself,"
"Make more. You could sell these, they're so good. On second thought, just give them all to me."
"Gosh, aren't you greedy?" he smirked and sat down beside me. He picked up a cookie himself.
"I'll keep you here if I have to," I joked.
"My parents would be awful worried if you did that," he knocked his knuckles together in that way that he always did.
I moved on to a more joyous topic and we spent the afternoon like that, sitting on my bed, eating cookies and talking. I was really glad I had Butters as my best friend. As much as I like the other three, he was still always there for me and knew when and how to comfort me.
I really appreciated him and I don't know what I'd do without him.
Yay! Finished!
By the way, that song in there is a song from Theory of a Dead Man, so it's not mine.
It is at an end, finally, and I'd like to thank all my faithful reviewers and followers and favoriters (real word?) for the support the gave me. Also, the people who read this but didn't favorite or follow because they didn't have an account or something, you're just as important. As an author, I can say that it's very encouraging to know that people appreciate your work. So I want to say something really important to you.
THANK YOU!
Bon, bien, à la prochaine, chers lecteurs!