Do You Even Care? / STYLE SOUTHPARK

☆ Chapter 02 ☆

...Kyle's POV...

Mondays are bullshit. They're so far from Friday that I wanna cry. I stand at the bus stop the chilly, early-morning, spring air biting my cheeks. Today I'm the first one to get here and it's boring. I pull out my phone and scroll through it, not fully focusing on any one thing.

When I hear the sound of feet I look around. I spot Butters and Kenny chatting and walking towards me. "Hey guys!" I shout out to them.

"Well hi, Kyle!" Butters shout back whole Kenny just waves. They approach and stand with me and I slide my phone into my back pocket. "Yeah, my parents said I'm grounded again 'cause I didn't come straight home after school," he tells Kenny as I start listening in.

"What were you doing?" I ask him.

He sighs, "Staying for a study group."

Sometimes I think Butters parents are a little harsh. "Seriously? You got grounded for that?" Kenny mumbles. Butters nods.

I hear footsteps and turn to see Stan. "Hey, Stan!" I shout.

He looks up from his phone and smiles, "Hey Kyle!" When he gets close enough he wraps me in a quick hug. "Anyways," he releases me, "is Cartman not here yet?"

"Nope," I reply.

"Fatass probably slept in," Kenny chuckles.

As if it was timed Cartman waddles over. "I'm not fat, I'm big-boned!" He shouts at us. That's always his defense for his obvious obesity.

"Yeah yeah, but did you hear that Craig and Tweek got like a week of detention 'cause they got caught making out in the bathroom?" Kenny asks/tells us.

"Really?" Butters asks with raised eyebrows.

Cartman snickers, "Fags." I open my mouth to say something but then I shut it again, defending them is only gonna get Cartman to start joking that I'm gay.

The bus rolls around the corner nobody else says anything. I walk down the aisle to the back of the middle of the bus and I take my seat by the window. Stan takes his seat next to me.

...

We get to school and we walk to our separate classes. I have history; It's not too hard but it's boring. English and science are more my things. After class, I go to my next class, study hall. I think I'll work on my science project today, it's due at the end of the week.

I'm surprised that when I get there that Stan isn't there. I set my stuff up, get my work out, and wait for a bit longer. Longer. He still isn't here. He always tells me when he skips. I check my phone, no texts.

Without another word, I leave and sneak out a side door. The bell rings when I'm over by the backside of the school. Not here. He's probably where he always skips. The football field bleachers. I start to make my way towards the field.

Sometimes looking across the football field, I feel dazed. Crazy to imagine that Stan actually plays football on this same field. Sure enough, I see Stan on the bleachers on the far right-hand side near the top. I climb up the bleachers and I sit next to him.

His head is buried in his knees. I wrap my arm around his shoulders and he turns his face into my neck and I feel the cold tears on my neck. With my other hand, I run my fingers through his hair. I can hear his short, erratic breaths slow down.

I figure this is about his dad. It's almost the year anniversary of his dad's death. After he's more calm I finally whisper, "You want to talk about it?"

He pulls away, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Not really," he tells me, watery eyes staring into mine. I nod. I'm not sure what to say. So I dont say anything. We sit in silence for a while. Then finally he lets out a heavy sigh. "I... I don't know. Sometimes I feel guilty? Even though I know it wasn't my fault," he says, voice clearly strained.

"Yeah. That's tough, Dude," I mumble. 

"I'm not going back to class. Not today," he tells me. He shifts as a strong gust of wind blows through the bleachers. "You wanna come with me?" He asks.

I shrug, "Sure." We both stand and walk down the bleachers. They rumble loudly as we walk down. We walk toward the parking lot.

"You wanna drive?" Stan asks, teasing me. I haven't got my license yet, I will the day after my birthday.

"I think I'd like to not get arrested," I roll my eyes. We get into his truck, him in the driver's seat, me riding shotgun. This is how it's supposed to be. He plays music as we drive and I hum along, one hand out the window. He parks near Stark's Pond and we walk towards the back of the park. We find a bench that's mostly not visible from the road because of the trees.

Stan reaches up and grabs one of the tree limbs. "It's been forever since I've climbed a tree," he grunts pulling himself up. Suddenly I feel alone on the ground and I grab the same branch and pull myself.

"Why do we always come to Stark's Pond when we skip?" He asks.

I shrug, "I don't know." It's a great question. There's nothing to do here but yet we always choose it. "Cause we live in a small town with nothing fun to do," I sigh.

"We should just go to my house," he suggests.

"Sure," I say. I hop down and nearly fall because I land funky on a root that's sticking up. Stan chuckles at me and I smile a bit. His laughs have always been something I like to hear. I find it comforting and familiar.

...

I see trees and buildings fly by as we drive. I could name each building in order. Seriously, this place is way too familiar.

We're close to Stan's house. The ride to his house feels more intense. Ever feel the depression radiating off of someone? Yeah... he looks... empty.