Do You Even Care? / STYLE SOUTHPARK

☆ Chapter 07 ☆

...Stan's POV...

The chilly morning air brushes against my face as I stand out at the bus stop. It's a Monday, the worst day of the week by far. We're all here at the stop, standing, waiting for the bus. I glance over at Kyle and he's already glaring at me. I return the glare, our eyes locking.

He glances away first but I hold my my glare a moment longer. I look back towards the road. The silence this morning is eerily quiet. "Did you hear there's a new part of the movie we watched this weekend coming out this October?" Kyle asks, turning to everyone else. I know that this question is supposed to make me feel guilty. Guilty for not being there. But it just makes me more angry at him.

I tune out as they talk about the movie they had watched. Not that Kyle had cared to ask why I hadn't shown up but it was because I was too fucking depressed. I had planned on showing up, albeit a bit late. I was just going to stop by the party, have a few drinks, and then leave. Just a few drinks to get my mood up. Honestly, I hadn't wanted to ruin the mood of the party. It was supposed to be an amazing night for Kyle. He could have helped in the morning when I texted him. I mean we're best friends for God's sake! Super best friends.

A loud screech makes me focus back in on the world around me. I realize that my eyes are slightly watery. I blink hard to dry my eyes as I climb onto the bus behind everyone else. Normally my seat is next to Kyle, the aisle seat next to Kyle. As I come to our usual seat he glares at me as he sets his bag in the seat next to him. I say nothing; I walk past him. His eyes remain on me as I walk by, I can feel them burning holes into my back. I choose a seat near the back and I sit on the aisle seat like I would if I was next to Kyle.

...Kyle's POV...

That motherfucker didn't even seem like he felt guilty. My teeth bite at the inside of my cheek. I wanted him to feel sorry. Why won't he just apologize? As angry as I am at Stan, a part of me already just wants my best friend again.

We arrive at school, a few minutes later than usual so I just walk straight to class. It's hard to avoid eye contact with Stan when he sits directly across the aisle from me. His individual desk on the left side of the classroom, mine on the right.

I should probably get my stuff for class, I reach into my backpack. With my hand I search for my binder and notebook, I find my computer and text book. Must've put it in the other pocket. I sigh and zip that pouch. Then I unzip the next one. I find my stuff and pull it out, setting it gently on my desk.

Class starts per usual, teacher talks, students write, I want to die of boredom. As I start doodling on the edges of the paper we were given, a crumpled ball of paper lands on my desk. It's from Stan. I uncrumple it and read it.

Dude can we just forget this? - Stan

With anger tingling in my fingertips, I take my pen and scribble over the writing, then stuff the note into my pocket. We can "forget it" once he apologizes and makes up for what he did.

The rest of class is sadly uneventful. After class in the hall, I glance to make sure Stan isn't behind me. He isn't. I pull out the note and run my finger over the one part I didn't scribble out, his name. I miss saying his name. I miss hearing his name. I miss his name. I miss him.

Seeing a trash can across the hall I figure this is my chance to throw it away. But I just can't. It goes back into my pocket. So I go to class.

...

In 3rd period Kenny greets me with a smile and a wave. I take the seat next to him like I do everyday.

"Hey, Kyle," He smiles.

"Hey, Kenny," I reply. Then I open my bag again and take my stuff out of my bag. The bell rings violently overhead but the teacher isn't inside yet so we all ignore it.

"Are you gonna make up with Stan soon?" He asks me, half preoccupied on his phone.

I shake my head, "No, I'm done with him."

Kenny chuckles and sets his phone down on the table. "No you're not," he rolls his eyes.

I bite my lip to hold back a rude comment (it's been a hell of a morning). "Yes I am," I grunt back.

Just then the teacher walks in. "Sorry, I was talking to a student. Get out your warm-ups!"

...

Luckily the awful morning doesn't continue on forever and soon its lunch. It's lunch at long last. I'm the first at our usual lunch table. Just as I start to find my inner peace again, Cartman wadles over like an obese penguin.

"Kyle!" he shouts at me.

"What?" I grunt back. He rolls his eyes and sits across from me. He doesn't say anything. "Well?" I ask.

"Oh... yeah! Game night at my house tomorrow, you in?" He asks me. I contemplate for a moment. Then I nod. "Cewl, see ya, im going to hop in the lunch line for seconds."

I wonder if Stan will be at the game night. Probably. I can't see why he wouldn't be. Sitting alone, I reach into my pocket. The feel of the paper on my hands is nice. I pull it out and stare at his name again. I stare until my eyes sting. And then until I can't bear to look at his name anymore.