chapter one

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THE BELL jangled as Y/N shouldered open the grimy door of Kyle's Gas n' Sip, the buzzing fluorescents casting a sickly glow over everything. She squinted, scanning the aisles until she spotted Kyle slumped behind the counter, looking like death warmed over. His uniform shirt was stained and wrinkled, a dog-eared copy of Kerrang spread out in front of him as he mindlessly rang up some geezer's smokes.

"Yo, Kyle," Y/N called, slinging her ratty messenger bag onto the sticky counter. "Any new energy drinks, or we still stuck with piss-yellow and radioactive-puke green?"

Kyle's bloodshot eyes flicked up, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "What do you think? This ain't exactly 7-Eleven." He jerked his chin toward the humming fridges in the back. "Knock yourself out."

Y/N trudged to the back, fingers leaving streaks on the grimy glass as she debated which overpriced caffeine bomb to grab. It was barely 4 PM, but she felt like she'd already survived a week in that hellhole they called high school. She snagged a can, turning to see Stan stumble in, his beat-up skateboard tucked under one arm and a beanie doing fuck-all to contain his greasy mop.

"'Sup, loser," Y/N greeted, elbowing him as he beelined for the fridges. "Late lunch or dinner of champions?"

"More like hair of the dog," Stan grunted, grabbing the first energy drink he saw. "Still hurting from last night's Halo marathon. My thumbs feel like they're gonna fall off."

Kyle snorted from behind the counter. "Maybe if you put half that effort into not flunking algebra, you wouldn't be failing school. "

Stan flipped him off, striking an exaggerated pose. "Dude, when I'm a pro skater, I'm not gonna need to know what X equals."

The bell clanged again, and Kenny slinked in, sporting his usual threadbare hoodie and a beanie that looked like it hadn't seen the inside of a washing machine this century. Cartman waddled in behind him, already mid-rant, his voice grating on everyone's last nerve.

"I swear to God, if one more person tries to tell me Good Charlotte is better than Blink-182, I'm gonna lose my shit," Cartman declared to absolutely no one who cared.

"Fascinating, fatass," Kenny drawled, his voice rough from too many stolen cigarettes. He spotted Y/N and sidled over, draping an arm over her shoulders. "Hey, babe. These dipshits giving you grief?"

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn't shrug him off. "Nah, just the usual bullshit. Math versus video games, round 500."

Kenny chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. Without asking, he swiped the can from Y/N's hand and cracked it open. "You're a saint for putting up with us," he said, taking a long swig.

"Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that's why I hang out with you losers," Y/N retorted, but there was no real bite to it.

Stan tossed a couple of off-brand candy bars onto the counter. "Ring it up, wage slave. We've got important shit to do, like seeing if we can beat that mission in GTA before my mom starts bitching about dinner."

Kyle lazily scanned the candy, then fixed Cartman with a dead-eyed stare. "You buying anything, or just here to raise my blood pressure?"

Cartman slapped a crumpled dollar on the counter. "One of these days, I'm just gonna walk out with half the store, and there's jack shit you can do about it."

"Try it and see what happens, lardass," Kyle replied, voice flat as week-old soda.

They all started talking over each other—Cartman spewing more bullshit, Stan cracking half-assed jokes, Kenny trying to mooch more of Y/N's drink. It was a cacophony of teen angst and boredom, the background noise of their lives.

"Alright, shut up," Stan said, pushing off the grimy counter. "We crashing at Y/N's or what? My dad's on a tear again."

Y/N shrugged. "Whatever. Just try not to puke on my floor this time, lightweight."

Stan flipped her off. "No promises, dude."

As they spilled out of the store, the late afternoon sun hit them like a spotlight, stretching their shadows across the cracked pavement. Kenny and Y/N walked ahead, still bickering over the drink, while Cartman and Stan traded insults behind them. Kyle locked up, trailing after the group with his hands jammed in his pockets, letting the rhythm of their voices blend with the drone of passing cars and distant lawn mowers.

Just another mind-numbing day in their dead-end town. No plans, no future—just a bunch of misfits killing time, one shitty afternoon at a time.

Just kind of an intro prologue type of chapter honestly, introducing the characters a bit too y'all.

Enjoy:)

HAZY [ southpark ]Where stories live. Discover now