His winter boots thudded into the flower shop, his eyes peering around the area. He stuck his yellow-gloved hands into his red jacket, peering around. The place was the opposite of homely. Flower pots were in order, not a speck of dirt was misplaced, and tall plants waved him kindly. He walked over to the cash register, anger radiating from his heart, brain, and soul.
"Why didn't you text me back? You were flirting, weren't you," he accused, jabbing a big finger towards him, and gave a huff. He looked up, a hurt and angered look crossed his face.
"What do you mean? I was working! I'm almost done, babe. I'm sorry I couldn't," he walked away and grabbed some scissors. He began to cull some of the flowers, placing them in bouquets for tomorrow.
"Well," he huffed. "I guess that's ok. You have to buy me dinner tonight, though."
He stood up straight, placed the final flowers into the bouquet, and turned towards his boyfriend.
"Babe, I hardly make enough for rent. I can't afford us dinner at some restaurant." He sighed as he turned around the OPEN sign to CLOSED.
"I don't care! I want PF Changs Kyle," he whined. He snapped.
"You're so shrewd to me, all the time! Whatever I do isn't enough," he opened his mouth, but Kyle cut him off. "I've been your obsequious boyfriend for far too long, Cartman. I have been feeling despondent about our relationship anyway."
"What do you mean? I've only been a sweet person to you," he replied, trying to defend himself. Kyle turned around, making his way to the cash register. "Also, it's not like it's my fault you didn't flourish and couldn't afford to bring me to PF Changs."
"Um, it kind is. You were the one who wanted me to not do that insurance job because it was full time," Kyle reminded him.
"I don't care. You may be peevish, but I still love you," he took a step closer and Kyle took a step back, his back hitting the table with the cash register.
"I don't care if you care. It's over," he gave a derisive laugh after he said that.
"I don't condemn that," he said slowly, eyeing him. Like a comet, he reached over and banged Kyle's head onto the table. Although surprised, he reeled back and hit him with his elbow. he wanted someone to intervene, but he realized the only person that could save him was himself. he tried to kick him in the crotch, but he grabbed the cash register and hit his head on it before he could do so. He ran away, and almost debated on not telling the police about the assault. He decided he had to and went to grab his phone.
It was gone and he could the thud of his ex's feet behind him.
YOU ARE READING
Style Oneshots | (and maybe some Kyman who knows)
أدب الهواةJUST FLUFF! I have to write a story every week for LA (English) and I have to write a story for my quiz too. You get a story at least once every two weeks! Might as well make them about Style! Sometimes it might focus on Kyle or vise versa. This is...
