Elysian Fields (A Kyman Fanfiction)

Chapter 17: Violent Silence

"I'll get a grande double pumpkin spice latte, soy, no whip, and for you Kyle?" Wendy chirps to the cashier.

"A paper bag to hide myself in," I say from behind her aviator sunglasses, the only way to keep the piercing sunlight out of my eyes. These huge coffee chains were always too bustling for my comfort in the morning.

"A grande medium roast black coffee," Wendy tells the unenthused cashier. The cash register rings and we meander over to the pick up table to stand out of the way. "I fluently speak pretentious overpriced caffeine," she jokes, smiling in an obvious attempt to balance my bad mood. I smile back behind her sunglasses.

"Thanks again about... Everything," I state. The smell of brewing coffee burns my nostrils.

Perhaps I was a bit too harsh on Wendy. She's smart, annoyingly so, and always hanging on my best friend, but she also saved my ass last night. Somewhere between dusk and dawn, I woke up in the passenger side of her luxury car, only to ask her to pull over so I could puke again.

/\/\/\

My yellow vomit hits the snow with a resounding splat. I sit back in the expensive leather seat and glance over at Wendy.

"Feeling better?" she checks on me from the driver's seat.

"Yeah," I mutter and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. It's dark in her car and darker still outside. The cool beige leather interior is perfectly clean, aside from the dirty snow my boots tracked in. The air conditioning is blasting perfect heat onto my hands and feet. Wendy unbuckles her seatbelt and places both her hands in her lap, then settles on messing with tapping the radio until a familiar pop tune buzzes. I still feel the soft cushion of the E pulsing through me, luckily less strong than before, as I try to piece together how my morning has started inside Stan's girlfriend's expensive car.

"Why were you at my job?" I ask her, a headache creeping into my skull.

"My job, too," she meets my eyes with her large brown ones. Her long straight hair is fashioned into a neat bun and she looks at me, trying to smile.

"I auditioned and got the job tonight... Here." She unsnaps her mauve leather cross body and uneasily hands me a neat stack of bills, held together with a rubber band. "It's all there, except your tip-out."

"I wouldn't think you took any," I state, confusedly glancing at the stack, "Did you get this from...

"The champagne room you were in, before our... Meeting in the bathroom," she says politely.

Right, champagne room. Flashes of Cartman, Cartman and more Cartman fly through my head and I remember the feeling of him against me, his delicious smelling chest, and his strong hands pulling me close.

"Oh shit," I say, hiding my face in my hands. Did I seriously do that?

"If you're going to be sick again, please do it outside," she clicks open the glove compartment and produces a plastic water bottle, dropping it in my lap.

"No, I..." How much could I say? How much should I say? It's too embarrassing for words. What was in that pill that made me think it was a good idea to touch he-who-is-the-absolute-worst-human-being?! "I did something stupid."

"Too much alcohol will do that," Wendy sagely acknowledges. She turns the keys in the ignition, "Is my house okay or-

"Yeah it's fine," my parents won't check, I'll just say I left early again. But that's not what I'm worried about. I feel so dirty, and so fucking ashamed. "I just really need a shower."