Win You Over (Stan x Kyle) (South Park)

12

Stans' POV:

It wasn't that I didn't like Kyle, because I did. I like him a lot. Everywhere I go, I see traces of him. Everything I listen to sounds like Kyle. Everything I see, I can always find a way to connect with him. My feelings for him are completely sure of what they mean. And they have made sure to let me know. In one way or another.

But when her voice came through the phone, I remembered everything. All of our moments. The company of her by my side, her presence whenever she felt as if I felt sad. Everywhere I went she followed. But not like a lost puppy. She had her own will and made sure I'd be aware. Which gave us passion. Passion in the way we fought. In the way, we spoke. In the way, I saw her every day. It was a sleepless cycle, full of passion. It never stopped.

Until it did.

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Brooklyn

Elijahs' face is red. Tears are strolling down his face as a hopeless snort leaves him. He is laughing at some joke that Josh just told. I don't know what he said since I didn't pay attention. But it seems to be one of his funnier ones. Even Lucy, who sits next to me, smiles. Only enough for a small glimpse of her pearly whites. Which, was pretty rare. It's not that she was a shy person, but more of the fact that it was hard to amuse her.

Josh readjusts his glasses as he glances at me.
"Joke didn't fit well, Marsh?". Why his nickname for me is my last name, I don't know. But I assume it's because it sounds like 'marshmallow', and he loves to bring that up.

"I didn't listen.", I say as I shake my head. He looks at me with a faked offended grimace. "I can't believe it! The funniest guy in school, won't listen to my joke!", he bullies me since all of my jokes suck.

"Shut up.", I grin as I give him the middle finger. Elijah chuckles a bit at this, as he drinks out of his water bottle.

Just then my back pocket starts vibrating and I grab my phone. It's my dad calling.

I get up from the grass and start to walk away a bit from my friends as I answer. "Sup, dad!", I never know what mood he's in when he's calling, so I'm always putting myself up for danger when I answer like this.

Josh dramatically fake moans in the distance as he tries to embarrass me. Like we were in fifth grade or something. Lucy pushes his shoulder to make him stop since my dad obviously would think that was her moaning.

"Nasty!", Elijah weeps as he shivers. In the distance, I hear Josh continuing to go off about something, and I focus on the phone call.

"Stan, you have to come home now. There's something we need to speak about.", my dad says. And to my surprise, no amount of emotion reveals itself. No sense of seriousness. No sense of anger-ness. No sadness. Just, nothing. It bothers me since I can't figure out whatever he and mom are trying to talk about later tonight.

As I get off the phone, the attention is long gone from me. The conversation seems to have moved onto some dude that apparently both Lucy and Josh know. I can't help but feel bad for Elijah, as he is third-wheeling.

"I have to go", I say interrupting the story as I grab my backpack from the green grass. Lucy also gets up to her feet. "I'll follow you.", she says as she starts to walk away without greeting our friends' goodbye. Leaving me to run after her. Because that's who she is. So sure about herself and the situation, that I'm often just following her in panic as I'm scared what to do myself.

We don't talk much as we walk to the bus stop, or as we ride through Brooklyn together. But, that's also how we both like it. Unless something has happened and either of us wants to rant about it while the other listens and most of the time agrees, we both just stay quiet. But it's still not an awkward relationship. It just fits. It feels as if every time I'm with Lucy, I can just escape everything else. Just for a second. It's not like I have to be funny in the company of her, because she accepts me either way.

As my bus station flashes on the screen, we both nod, and we kiss goodbye. A sensation of happiness mixed with the down-part of a rollercoaster fills me as I walk out of the bus. Just, to remind me of my feelings and my attraction to her.

I smile to myself, accepting the sensation, as I drag out my headphones from my bag. Even though I only have a 10-minute walk ahead of me, I still like to listen to music. Hip hop is something that has stuck to me ever since I moved to Brooklyn. Maybe the nature of the city, itself, made me interested. Or, maybe the stereotypes about teenagers only listening to hip hop or rap, was true after all.

But, that doesn't matter, I think to myself as I walk down the streets of Brooklyn.

As I get home, I can basically feel my parents presence, even though it's completely quiet. Which, was not super common. They were always fighting over something, my mom and dad. And before my sister Shelley went to college, there was even more arguing. I never really paid attention to the screaming 'conversations', though. I was mostly busy with other things, such as listening to music. Or to hang out with my old dog Sparky. Who, sadly passed away in an accident a few months ago. When the news about the passing came, they completely broke me. My life just got darker. The shadows were more dominant than before, and easily took over the rest of my life

I knew my parents were hurt too, but they tried not to show it as well. As if being emotional would show your weakness. I hated them, then. In all honesty, I hated most people back then. The only person I could bear was Lucy. Because she didn't fake being sorry for me. She didn't gasp and shockingly say: "Oh I'm so sorry. That's awful!" because she was genuine. She embraced me and didn't let me go. Which, was just what I needed.

My parents waits for me at the kitchen table, and as I walk into the room, they look up onto me and make a gesture to the chair opposite them. I follow the orders and take my seat. And for the first time, the anxiety hits me. It was as if I was immune to assuming something bad had happened, even though it was obvious that this meeting wasn't positive. Who died, I thought but didn't get an answer.

Both of my peers sit quietly as I return their gaze towards me. My dads white coffee mug is under a tight grip, from the man himself. He brings it to his mouth and sips loudly. I cringe and try to get the dissatisfying feeling off of me. As an attempt to make him stop, I ask "What is this about?", as I start to fumble with my fingers in a desperate attempt to make sure that I wasn't caught with doing anything. Like, smoking cigarettes again, or going to that party even though I was supposed to study. My dad looks at my mom, who nods at him, and he continues his look towards me.

"Stanley. We're moving."

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