Pathetic - Enemies to Lovers (Kyle Broflovski x Reader)

Chapter 8: Warm and Cold

Word Count: 928

Warnings:

- Language

The feeling in the room wasn't tense, it was calm. Unlike before, it was genuinely silent. She kept tending to his wounds as he winced every once in a while. Though it didn't matter if he was in pain or not, his eyes didn't move from her. She got close at times, her face inspecting the injuries on his lips and jaw. The closer she got, the redder his face became. Y/n noticed but didn't say anything. In that room, they were only people. He wasn't an angry teenager, she wasn't a sad one. They were two people in room together, they didn't have to be anyone.

While tending to his bruises and cuts, Y/n's hand was subconsciously rubbing the side of his face with her fingertips, though he didn't seem to find. She muttered things to herself about how he might need stitches for his lip. He couldn't help but admire her face as she focused on his.

"How'd you learn all this?" Kyle asked her.

"Uh, my Dad." She responded somewhat awkwardly. "He'd come home from the military and tell me about all the things he did." Kyle nodded in response. He didn't want to ask too many questions just in case it made her upset. She's always been a little sensitive about that topic. She didn't want to elaborate much on it and he changed the subject.

"How bad as it? My face?" Kyle asked with a little concern.

"I didn't think it could get any uglier, and it did." She told him and rolled his eyes. "No but, you may need stiches, especially for your arm. You may get a scar on your arm too, and maybe your lip but I'm not a doctor."

"God, if my mom finds out, I'll be dead." Kyle sighed and leant his head back a little.

"Well, she's gonna have too or else your arm could get seriously infected." She told him and nodded. "Okay well, do you want to stay here or do I have to haul your ass upstairs?"

"A bed would be nice." He said as Y/n nodded.

She began helping him to sit up. His head was pounding and his arm was throbbing. She grabbed his hands and helped pull him up so he wouldn't use his arm too much. His hands were warm and a little calloused and bruised. He had slim fingers and were a little veiny when they tensed. His grip was firm as she led him upstairs. He gripped the stair railing with one hand and Y/n gripped his other hand. He took his time as each step made his head shake and his headache worse. They made it to the hallway and Kyle told her which room was his.

They made it too the door and he opened it slowly. Y/n let go of his hand as he turned around and lent on the side doorframe. "Thanks for that." He said gently.

"I would've done it for anyone." Y/n responded. She didn't want Kyle to think he was special, she didn't want him to think she liked him more than anyone else, but was that because she did? If even it was, she'd never admit it to herself. Kyle hummed in response. He was a little disappointed at her answer, was he not special enough to be cared for a little more than some people? Though, he didn't expect to be special, no one ever saw him as special, he was just a Jewish, ginger from New Jersey. Maybe he deserved to get the shit beat out of him. Maybe his ego was too big. Maybe he was an angry person. But maybe it wasn't his fault.

"Goodnight, Y/n." He said with a very small smile.

"Uh, yeah, goodnight Kyle." She answered awkwardly as he closed the door. A tear fell down her face, why was she crying? I'm not sad, I don't know how I feel, I've ever felt like this before. I feel warm, but maybe it was just his hands. I feel...something, I don't know what it is, I don't know how to feel. I don't hate Kyle anymore, but I don't like him, I tolerate him. "God! This is pathetic!" She yelled to herself in a whisper. She slid down his door as she leant her head back to stare blankly at the ceiling. "What do I do..." She muttered to herself quietly. "I can't do this to myself." The man she was in love with was her father, the best man in the world and he left and he died. Though as she stared at the ceiling, she didn't cry more than that one single tear.

Kyles POV (Well his 3rd person)

As he closed the door, he couldn't help but feel weird. Her hands were cold, his were warm and sweaty. The balance made him feel nice, the weird, sweaty, awkwardness disappeared. It was replaced with a cool breeze, a breeze that flew through her fingertips as they touches his face then through her hand to his.

He wandered to bed, a little confused, a little fuzzy and god did his head hurt. Dude, why do I feel like this? Maybe it's my concussion, maybe it's her? Why would It be her? I mean, I don't hate her, I tolerate her, I can't like this girl can I? Oh my god, no, no this can't be happening. This is pathetic. Maybe if I go to sleep, this weird feeling will go away? Yeah, yeah, I'll try that...