Build me up, Buttercup.

Chapter Ten: real sweet

POV: Kyle Broflovski
[2 days after the last chapter]
"Close the window behind you," I speak in a hushed tone. Stan nodded, pulling himself into my room. He shut the window with a soft "chk."

It was 10:25 at night and I was contemplating my choices. I slid on my jacket cautiously, trying to keep the noise to a minimum: I did so slowly, one arm at a time, before leaning over to tie my shoe. Stan knelt in front of me, taking my foot and placing it on his knee then typing that shoe. I assume he's trying to hurry me up. I tighten the knot and lean over, our faces inches apart.

"Remind me again why we're going?" I muttered.

Stan's face, still rosy from the cold, scrunches up. He lets out a soft chuckle. I feel his breath on my ear. "Well, you're going because you wanted some booze, and I'm going so my dad doesn't know I took some of his stash." I thought for a second before making a face that emulated "Touché."

He tightens the laces on my shoe, then gives my foot a couple of taps signaling to me that he's ready to head out. He leant over toward me. He whispers, "You ready?" I nod, moving my leg so he could stand up.

Quietly and quickly, he opens my window and crawls out. I look down at him as he swiftly descends down the ladder. As I stepped onto the ladder, Stan stood at the bottom holding it steady. I quietly slid my bedroom window closed after a few wobbly movements. Slow and steady, I make my way down the ladder and plant my feet in the soft, small layer of snow.

Stan looks over at me, his breath forming in the cool air, "I'll leave this here for when we get back." He gestured towards the ladder, I nodded.

Our feet crunch in the snow as we make our way to Stan's, still running, truck. The heat hits my face as I slide in the passenger seat.

We close the car doors with a thud.

I reach behind me for the seat belt and the truck's already darting across the street. Quickly, I click my seatbelt into place and turn to give Stan a look. "Stan, the speed limit for a neighborhood is 20. Slow down!"

"Ah, whatever dude. No one will see, it's dark out and it's late." He said, despite slowing down for a stop sign.

"It's about safety. And, speaking of safety," I awkwardly scramble across Stan before he could dart off again. He puts his hands up in confusion. I stretch over him and fasten his seatbelt. "Use your seatbelt."

He glances at me and mumbles an "Oh" before looking back at the road to make a turn.

"I wish you'd be more careful." I could tell by the turn of his head that it was his turn to chew my ear off.

"Kyle, we're literally sneaking out on a Friday night to drink and smoke at a deliberately irresponsible asshole's house." With a shake of his head, he gives me a face.

I return that face, cross my arms, and slouch down a little. "Okay, that's true."

I watch the road pass by for a little bit before turning on the radio. Stan's truck used to be his father's, so it still had knobs and buttons for the radio. I click and twist the knobs. A staticy tune comes clear. I turn up the volume.

"I'm color coding my moods.
You're yellow, I'm natural blue."

"Oh hell yeah, I love this song!" Stan declared this to me as though he was declaring it to the whole world. He cranks up the volume to the point where I can feel the bass shaking my seat. I chuckle. "Have you heard it before?!" I shake my head, grinning now. "Dude, it's awesome! You'll like it, just listen!"

"Hey, tell me what you want me to say,
you know I'm stupid for you."

I start nodding along. "It's pretty good!"