HAZY [ southpark ]

chapter six

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The car screeched to a halt outside a dilapidated shithole masquerading as a house, the bass already thumping hard enough to make the windows rattle. A handful of wasted idiots were loitering outside, chain-smoking and talking shit. Neon light spilled from the windows like toxic waste, promising a night of bad decisions and worse hangovers.

"Round fucking two," Kyle slurred as he killed the engine. "Let's see how long before someone gets their ass kicked out."

"My money's on Cartman," He muttered, dragging his sorry ass out of the car. "Fatass is already halfway to oblivion."

"Thanks for the compliment," Cartman burped, nearly eating shit as he stumbled out. "Means I'm winning at life, unlike you losers."

The moment they stepped inside, it was sensory overload. Music blasting loud enough to liquefy brain cells, people shouting over each other like their lives depended on it, and the unmistakable sound of something valuable shattering in the background. It was packed tighter than Cartman's arteries, bodies pressed against each other in a sweaty, drunken mass.

Stan and Cartman made a beeline for the booze, while Kyle looked around like he was expecting the cops to burst in any second. Kenny, meanwhile, was already cutting through the crowd like a pro, dragging Y/N along by the wrist.

"We need shots," he yelled over the noise, grinning like a maniac. "Like, right fucking now."

Y/N laughed, letting herself be pulled along. "We're so gonna hate ourselves tomorrow."

"Future-us can eat shit," Kenny replied, snagging a bottle of cheap vodka from a table. "Present-us is getting wasted."

It didn't take long for shit to get wild. They found themselves crammed into the kitchen, where some genius had started a game of Spin the Bottle mixed with Truth or Dare. It was a recipe for disaster, and naturally, they dove right in.

"Alright, fuckers," some random dude slurred, spinning an empty beer bottle in the center of the circle. "Let's see who's getting lucky or humiliated."

The bottle spun, wobbling drunkenly before landing on Kyle. "Truth or dare, Jew-fro?" Cartman hollered.

Kyle, already looking green around the gills, muttered, "Truth, I guess."

"Boring!" Cartman booed. "Fine. Who in this circle would you hate-fuck?"

Kyle's face went from green to beet red. "Jesus fuck Cartman. Uh... I guess... Bebe?" He glanced at the blonde across the circle, who just winked back.

The game spiraled from there. Stan had to do a body shot off someone's abs, Cartman was dared to streak across the front yard (much to everyone's horror), and Kenny smooth-talked his way out of admitting his actual body count.

When the bottle landed on Y/N, her heart skipped. "Dare," she said, feeling reckless.

Kenny's eyes lit up. "I dare you to make out with... Stan. For at least 30 seconds."

The circle erupted in drunken cheers as Y/N and Stan looked at each other, both red-faced and swaying slightly. "Fuck it," Stan muttered, and before Y/N could think, he was kissing her. It was sloppy and tasted like cheap beer, but there was a heat to it that made her head spin. Or maybe that was just the vodka.

When they broke apart, the group was hollering like animals. Y/N caught Kenny's eye, and for a second, she thought she saw something flicker there – jealousy? Amusement? But then he was grinning and pouring more shots, and the moment was gone.

As the night wore on, things got messier. The music cranked up to ear-bleeding levels, people spilling out onto the back patio, getting into slurred arguments over which album was the greatest of all time. It was beautiful chaos, the kind you only appreciate when you're too drunk to care about consequences.

Y/N found herself on the makeshift dance floor again, this time with Stan. They were both well past the point of coordination, swaying and stumbling more than actually dancing. Stan's hands were on her hips, steadying himself as much as her, and they were both laughing at how ridiculous they must look.

"You're a fucking disaster, Marsh," Y/N teased, nearly tripping over her own feet.

"Yeah, well, you're not exactly graceful yourself," Stan shot back, his words slurring together. He spun her around, miscalculated, and they both went crashing into a nearby couple. It devolved into a mess of tangled limbs and apologies, but no one seemed to care. They were all too far gone to give a shit about a little collision.

At some point, Y/N lost track of Kenny. She stumbled outside, the cool air hitting her like a slap to the face. She found him leaning against the back fence, smoke curling from his lips, looking like a poster boy for beautiful mess.

"Hey, lightweight," she called, walking over with only a slight wobble. "You good?"

Kenny glanced at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Never better. Just needed a break from the shitshow inside."

Y/N leaned beside him, their shoulders touching. "You know, you get all deep and shit when you're wasted."

"I'm a fucking philosopher," he said, taking a long drag. "Or maybe I'm just talking out of my ass. Who knows?"

"Definitely your ass," she teased, bumping him with her hip.

Kenny laughed, but then turned to her, his eyes surprisingly focused. "You're fun as hell, you know that? Like, out of all these wasted assholes, I'd still rather be out here with you."

Y/N's heart did a weird flip that had nothing to do with the alcohol. "Yeah, well, you're not so bad yourself, McCormick."

He smiled, softer this time, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. But before anything could happen, a crash from inside snapped them out of it.

They stumbled back in to find Cartman sprawled on the floor, surrounded by the remains of what used to be a coffee table. He was declaring himself the "King of Destruction" while Kyle tried to drag him up, cursing up a storm.

Stan was slumped on the couch, nodding along to a conversation he clearly wasn't following. When he spotted Y/N and Kenny, he perked up. "There you are! We were taking bets on whether you two were hooking up or puking in the bushes."

"Why not both?" Kenny quipped, throwing an arm around Y/N's shoulders.

As the party finally started to die, they piled back into the car, a mess of tangled limbs and half-conscious bodies. The drive home was a blur of off-key singing and slurred conversations that wouldn't make sense in the light of day.

Kenny and Y/N were pressed together in the back, his arm still draped around her. She could feel the warmth of his body, smell the mix of smoke and cheap cologne on his clothes. When she looked up, she found him watching her, a lazy smile on his face.

"Don't you dare forget tonight," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. "Promise?"

Y/N reached up, her fingers tangling in his hair. "Wouldn't if I could."
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