Chapter Text
A slight nudge on his elbow, Kyle's eyes were shy to open but his ears could already hear, loud music reverberating through the house, so loud it could perforate and move the ground. He woke up fast, rapidly coming to his senses and memories flooding in as if he'd just watched a movie, "How long was I out for…?" He wiped his forehead, keeping his hand there, as if supporting it so it wouldn't fall.
"Not a long time, party's just started." Stan, who was sat by him, jumped out of the seat when he noticed that Kyle woke up. He stood in the door, facing Kyle.
When Kyle finally looked at Stan, still sleepy, he realized he did not look the same - his slightly tanned, acne-scarred face had been wiped clean with white makeup, his under eyes had now been covered by dark eyeshadow, his blue orbs emerging from the darkness of them. Eyeliner, long and thin, seized down his otherwise round and puffy eyes, and his black hair that was greasy, with no volume, was fluffy, puffy, bangs falling on his forehead like soft clouds - Kyle rubbed his eyes, confused by the sight, and in an attempt to wake himself up - no, he wasn't dreaming. His clothes were also different. Earlier, he was wearing plainer clothes, some shirt with a writing on it and lazy jeans. Now he rocked a long black dress shirt, an undershirt with the printing of a skull, ripped at its end, it seemed burnt, pants that were both too tight and too lose on his skin, and leather boots; and to top it off, lots of jewelry and chains in places that seemed almost calculated. Kyle stood in awe, without saying a word. Stan was no fool, and only assumed he was silently judging him, so he furrowed his brows; "You'll miss the show if you just stand there." He shut the door, going back inside in a flash, Kyle watched him but he faded into the darkness of the night.
Now, he was certainly intrigued about this band. When he heard mentions of a band, Kyle assumed it was just one of those garage bands, with poor lyrics that had a straightforward meaning with no depth at all; but now? Now he was interested. Whatever attire Stan was wearing, it meant business. These thoughts replayed in his head, as he headed inside the house; the door was open for anyone who fared to enter, both inviting and scary, knowing whose house it was.
At first, it seemed fine. The music so far was relatively calm, the concert of the band hadn't started and it was still the beginning of the party, but the power of the stereo was able to shake the structure of the house. Kyle looked around, spotting the stage all set up with no one standing there yet; on the drums he could read a text, in a font that was hard to read at first glance - hard to make out due to its decorations, "Crimson Dawn", was what he saw. Maybe bringing his contacts would've been a good idea, if he knew he'd have to read.
"You're the new kid?" a voice emerged from his left, and Kyle almost fell by being startled. That voice was familiar.. Bingo! It was the one he heard in the classroom when he entered it. This kid wasn't worth his time, so Kyle spared himself of sympathy. "It's Kyle. I have a name. You would have known if you actually listened." He didn't even look at the guy who stood a few inches beside him, but he could feel his eyes burning his cheeks.
"Kahl." Cartman echoed, audibly mocking him.
"What do you even want?"
"Why would you move to this town?"
Kyle rolled his eyes, "Do you think I had a choice?"
"I know you had problems in your last city. Your entire family did, in fact." Cartman shook the drink in his hand, watching the beverage swirl inside of it, and Kyle straightened himself up when he heard that, but remained calm. Showing any weakness would make everything worse, and he couldn't afford that.
"So you came here to tell me something I already knew?" Kyle's eyes were eating the drums, ones that remained static and the only thing he could see now.
"M'just tellin' ya. If I could find it, it won't take long for others to do the same." Cartman finished, wandering into a corner to talk with other people, and Kyle watched him leave by the corner of his eye - what the fuck was that entire interaction? Was… that guy actually threatening him? Well, if he knew the real reason he would've actually said it instead of being mysterious about it, his dad was a good lawyer and he trusted him to keep these details out; he specifically asked his dad to do that. There is no way, legally, that any information about what happened exactly could be found, there just wasn't. There wasn't.
Deep in thought, seeping and the crowd disappearing, while in the solitude of his head; the music came to a sudden stop, even the stereo making an interference sound, that caught groans of people around him - in the blink of an eye, there were a lot more people, they leaned on eachother, dancing mindlessly, and seemed offended it came to a stop. From the back of the stage, the four members of Crimson Dawn emerged and hopped onto the stage. Stan was the first one to step on it, then Kenny, who assisted Butters and Jimmy to get in position. They all wore dark clothes, similar to Stan's, with a goth-esque makeup, but their glistening chains and jewelry caught everyone's attention, and even a spotlight beamed on them. Kyle's feet moved on their own, getting closer to the stage, bumping on some people in an accident.
They had huge grins on their faces, and their chests inflated in a scary way. Stan leaned onto the microphone stand, facing the crowd in front of him; all eyes on him. He wasn't able to make out faces, but he could see Wendy, Craig, Clyde, Tolkien, and Cartman staring attentively; their eyes were like the moon in a deep dark night, ones of a crow staring out the window. It helped boost the atmosphere of his shows, and with a loud roar, he began, "ARE YOU READY FOR CRIMSON DAWN?" the people all cheered, and Butters began, with a guitar riff, followed right by Kenny's bassline and a mix of sounds of Jimmy's drumming and plates. All people were jumping up and down, the adrenaline pumping up from the crowd into the stage.
Stan's enchanting voice became a deep groan, singing words of despair and self-neglect, Butters interjecting in some of the lyrics, with a lovely high pitched voice that harmonized perfectly with his strident, electrifying voice. Stan reached for his hair grabbing it, as he shook his head, the audience doing the same, to the beat of the drums. A solo from Kenny and Butters began, the bass following behind the electric guitar, it was obvious they had practiced a lot for that, their focus, their calculated fingers splintered all over their guitars, and their arched backs leaning on each other. Stan was performing some kind of performative dance of an exorcism, better, of ripping his heart down - a performance where he would motion being stabbed, falling to the ground and ripping out his heart, standing back up with great dramatism. Until he continued singing again, now the bass had gone silent, and only a few beats from the drums could be heard along with the guitar. Stan's stance was much more steady, still fervent with pacing and twitching, his voice sang in a whisper, a calculating whisper that sounded like a cry for help. Heartfelt lyrics about longing and loving, a lovesick passage,
"Aah, In this shape you are longing to reach,
Are there any reasons to worry about?
Awaken from sleep...
I'm alone
The rosary we chose together has fallen." the last word, spoken in a huge groan, one that echoed, a roar worthy of a lion, that prologanted long enough for the bass, drums and electric guitar to come back with everything they had, a note that lasted for a long time, descending alongside the instrumental and Butters' harmonies like a rollercoaster that stopped in the middle of its tracks, trailing off, as Stan lost breath, slowly regaining conscience, looking to the small, yet enormous crowd, that cheered him, a huge smile appeared on his face; proud of himself, but panting from exhaustion. He'd need to drink something before going to the next song, and so he jumped off the stage and went back to the garage, looking for a bottle of water in a haze.
The door didn't close behind him, but he didn't pay no mind to it, just throwing himself on the wooden chair, controlling his breathing and drinking his water, sweating dripping from his temples like waterfalls - good thing his makeup was waterproof, not his black lipstick however, it was all smeared over his hands and bottle now. It's okay, he had time to fix it as long as he regained his breather.
"Dude, that was fucking amazing!" A voice erupted from the corner, near the door, a click finishing the sentence, shutting off most of the noise from the party; before it closed fully, Kenny's voice was announcing they would be taking a quick break for a breather.
The voice was Kyle's, a high-pitched one, easily recognizable even if he hadn't heard it for long. Stan couldn't bring himself to respond, preferring to save his air.
"When you told me you had a band I- I never expected it to be like that! I don't know what I was expecting though- Maybe like one of these indie, garage bands that everyone does here!" Kyle continued, pacing around the room in excited steps. Stan smiled a little, watching him go back and forth like an ant.
"I'm telling you! I'm seriously shaking that was-" Kyle finally caught Stan's gaze, noticing how much his eyes glistened with pure joy. A deep blue, a marvelous color that reflected all hues of the night, of the ocean, of the leds right in these two circles. "...Breathtaking." Kyle felt his lungs lock on itself, worried his binder might be the thing strangling him to breath, but he did not stop looking at Stan, in complete awestruck. The other simply returned the stare, visibly happy with the encouragement he received.
"You think so? It's my dream," a shy, soft smile, that made his eyes squint a little, with a darted gaze to an empty spot as he took another sip of the water. Kyle just nodded, and Stan got up, walking up to him.
"We can keep talking, but I've got a show to do, so you can come meet me at the fan-signing afterwards," he joked, picking up a small mirror and the black lipstick that sat on the table. In one fast motion, he repainted his lips black, overlining them a little. Stan headed to the door, giving Kyle a short look before he walked right out the door, receiving cheers and love from the people in the crowd.
And Kyle was still inside, as still as a statue, wondering what the hell just happened.
The door was left open by a few inches, and Kyle woke up from his daydream and ran to it, as soon as he heard the guitar opening the show, shoving a few people in front of him so he could get the front row this time. The people that stood there were obviously his friends, as they looked at him with a weird look, except for Cartman who just smirked. But it didn't bother Kyle. What mattered now is that his eardrums were once again booming.
This time, it was different, a cascade of melodies, the bass and guitar running in circles with their music, and sounding perfect together, while the drums had only its lower sounds used. Stan sung lyrics about abandonment, about leaving, becoming a new person - this time his voice was not as deep, a more melancholic and enchanting voice, one that sounded like it came from the back of his throat, from the back of his mind, a voice long forgotten, it was almost alluring. His stage presence was much lower, he was still staying still. Kyle could feel some people behind him, and with a quick look he saw that people were tangling in each other; not uncommon at a party.
The guitars stopped harmonizing, only the riff of the guitar could be heard, in an increasingly faster rhythm, the drum picking up the pace, until it imploded with a huge scream from Stan that lured everyone's attention. It wasn't just a scream, it was one that came from his stomach, a knot in his esophagus that wouldn't cease. It wasn't pretty, but it was good, it was enticing; it felt so real, it was something that couldn't be replicated ever again. Butters picked up the lyrics, singing with a sweet but anger-filled voice about being mismatching, about picking up his bags and changing who he is completely, letting go of all the broken pieces. Stan kept screaming; his groaning must have gone for an entire minute, it was even impressive how he could do such and remain at a good pitch. The guitars picked up his scream, starting to muffle it out, the drums following behind to add nuances to the change of tone; Stan finally stopped screaming, dropping to the ground in one motion - it was almost worrying but it was part of the performance. He put the microphone close to his mouth, starting to sing in a hushed pace, "Mom, Dad, I'm sorry for everything
My knees are shaking and I'm sucking my thumb
Sister, I'll see you later
I stomp down the heels of my unfashionable shoes" though the sadness of the lyrics, his tone was cheery, almost glad, and he laughed hysterically, almost too perfectly - tons of rehearsing behind that single track of laughter. Butters picked up right before him, continuing with how much he's glad he's not part of there, or not belonging there, of being nothing. The instrumentals went off again, Butters refining with very high notes and Kenny's bass picking up and maintaining the beat steady, the drums were in their own place though, Jimmy taking over and leading an entire orchestra in there. Another one of Stan's dance performance, this time, he was holding himself in his own arms, his knees getting weaker, and falling to the ground. On beat, he rolled around throwing away something with his fist as he got up, elongated fingers, and as the beat increased to a climax, Stan hurriedly left the stage, leaving it to Kenny, Jimmy and Butters to continue the show. It was all part of the plan, though it confused the other teenagers watching, but soon they heard the deep voice from the song before, one last "Goodbye," before it stopped. Before the instruments all stopped playing and everyone went back to the party.
Everyone else in the party just went back to their dancing, singing and smoking, almost too unbothered by what they had just witnessed. The music picked by the DJ was tragically different too: typical, annoying pop music of teenager parties that made Kyle want to gag. The other people in the front row, minus Cartman, went after the members of Crimson Dawn, who giggled between each other before they all shut themselves inside of the garage. Kyle even thought of following behind them, but it felt too awkward, with so many people around him.
Maybe it was just time to enjoy the time at the party and talk to other people instead; maybe drinking a little could help, as long as it wasn't too much. Just enough to pick up a conversation by someone who was also getting a drink at the kitchen, but his mind was still glued on whatever he saw earlier in Stan - fuck it, throughout the whole two performances, Kyle felt his bones vibrating, his blood vessels exploding with a high that could not be obtained in any man-made drug. A kind of feeling he never would experience again. When he was in the front row, he could see the rawness in Stan, the small glances they exchanged, even if they weren't on purpose. It was an out of this world experience; though Kyle was not jumping or bouncing off as much as he'd wish to, grounded by the music and what he was experiencing. But next time, he would cheer them on. He grabbed a red cup, pouring himself a cup of an unknown alcohol with a name that was too hard to read. He took a sniff, not charmed by it at all.
"Can't handle a little ice?" A question from a feminine voice popped, a person walking up to his side, leaning in to get Kyle's attention.
It was a blonde girl, with beautiful sparkling blue eyes, decorated with heavy eyeshadow and mascara, she then snatched the cup off his hand, taking a sip out of it, then returning it to his hand, unfazed, and even smiling. Kyle was a bit taken aback, but didn't want to be seen as a coward, so he also took a small, small sip out of it, feeling the alcohol tingle his tongue immediately, but he bit it to keep a straight face to the girl. She seemed to have enjoyed the demonstration, because she giggled. "How're you enjoying my party, dear?"
"I'm really enjoying it," He responded, almost immediately, fast, too fast, which got a weird look from her, "I mean- it's my first one in a long time."
"Oh yeah, you're new here. Did you not use to go to parties in your city?"
Kyle chuckled, reminiscing, "Well, I did go to some parties," he paused, "But they would always end up in argument, you know, it's a Jersey thing." the girl giggled again, clearly interested in him. Bebe picked up the cup again, taking a sip out of it, but this time, locking her eyes with Kyle. He felt something inside of him tremble a little at that gesture, and as soon as the cup was returned, he also took a sip out of it, trying to maintain eye contact, but his eye twitching as the alcohol burnt his throat gave it away.
"Aw, you don't have to impress me," she thought for a second, eyeing him up and down, "Kyle." she finished, with a small smirk on her rosy lips.
"I'm not trying to," Kyle retorted, both embarassed and intimidated by Bebe. Suddenly he remembered he was supposed to talk to Stan again, but he wasn't sure on where to find him and… The girl in front of him was giving him a look he didn't like a lot, but he felt bad for pushing her away. Well, it was just like someone heard his thoughts, because his shoulder was just pulled back.
"Hey!" another feminine voice shouted at him, "Don't mess with her!" Kyle gave her a confused and surprised look, unsure of what was going on.
"Calm down, Wendy." Bebe and Stan echoed; Stan stood Beside Wendy, with a tired look on his face, holding a glass bottle that was half full, and Bebe stood behind Kyle, with a big grin across her face. She quickly brushed Kyle aside, walking in front of Wendy. "I was just trying to be nice to the new kid, you know…" She grabbed her hand and soon enough Wendy and Bebe trailed off into the dance floor, speaking in each other's ear, exchanging glances and smiles until they started dancing together. Now Kyle was even more confused…. He hoped that Bebe was bisexual, or that she was genuinely trying to just be nice.
"You left me alone there."
Kyle snapped out of his trance, looking at Stan as he chugged down his drink, "Huh?" Stan wiped his mouth, smearing remnants of black lipstick. The makeup he wore was pretty much removed now, except for the dark eyeshadow that circled around his eyes, his hair was also flatter than before, but not greasy. He looked messy in a good way, if that was possible.
"You heard me," he pointed at Kyle, with an incriminating look, "You didn't come to my meet and greet." Kyle laughed at his little joke, looking at him a little softer than before.
"Well, maybe I just wanted to have that experience to be more reserved." …. What was that? Kyle said that mindlessly, not aware of how wrong it sounded out loud, and when he realized it was already too late. Stan looked at him with surprised, open eyes, without further reaction. All that Kyle wanted to do now was shove his head inside a hole; drinking that alcohol wasn't a good idea, as little as he drank it completely removed his thinking filter. Stan softened his look though, and walked next to him, putting his arm on his shoulders and dragging him to a couch where a few people sat down. "Let's go sit with 'em."
When the people saw Stan, they made a small space for him to sit, not enough for Kyle as it was cramped already. Stan sat comfortably on the couch, while Kyle sat on the carpet right next to his legs. He recognized some of these people as the ones who were in the front row alongside him and also, the jock group in school. They quickly introduced themselves, and Kyle could already tell their personalities were all very distinct - Tolkien and Clyde were probably the nicest ones while Tweek and Craig didn't want to be bothered. Craig laid his head on Tweek's lap, who was covering his ears, and Craig closed his eyes; Kyle wondered exactly what was going on there. Clyde and Stan spoke nonsense with one another, their conversation was too uninteresting for Kyle to actually pay attention to, and also because of the volume of the music too. Tolkien seemed to be in the same boat, as he'd long laid his back against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. Kyle decided to get up, and Stan grabbed his arm, "I'm just going to get some fresh air." Stan perked up, and got up from his seat, trembling a little and holding onto Kyle a little too much for his liking, but surely he eventually got it.
Kyle and Stan walked brushed against the people, Kyle shoving them away and Stan apologizing, tripping a little in his way and waving to some, while Kyle just kept pacing hurriedly so he'd catch up eventually. As he reached the door, he made sure to push him out of the house first. Kyle also walked out, closing the door behind him, and Stan was already trailing on the small front garden. The night was dim, a bit scary, and Stan spinning around the grass with a worry free mind spooked him a little less. Kyle sat on the grass, while Stan continued his shenanigans of spinning around while looking at the sky. Kyle watched him, waiting for him to eventually fall over - it would be very funny if he did.
"Why did you move - " He hiccuped, " - here?" Stan was still staring at the sky, but he stopped spinning around, just standing there for no reason, as if he was a kid mesmerized by the sight of the million of stars that flickered. His question came out so naturally that Kyle wasn't even sure of how to respond, and the honest answer was a complicated one he couldn't just give to a person who was under the influence so easily.
"You're not like nobody I ever seen," Stan continued, keeping his gaze locked with the sky, his pauses between talks were so slick and well timed, as if this conversation had been planned already by Stan, "I- I mean…" his gaze finally lowered, meeting with the bottle in his hand that was half full - a different one that he grabbed on his way here. "You don't look like Ken, like me, Cartman…" Kyle froze. He crossed his fingers, hoping that whatever happened now wasn't what he expected, that it wasn't his nightmare, again, he prayed to the god above that nothing bad would happen to him that night.
Stan chuckled to himself, meeting Kyle's horrified eyes, and starting making his way to sit next to him. He was a bit confused, what did he say that made him have such a sad sight on his face? "I mean… The look you gave me earlier." He gripped the grass below his hands, plucking some of it out, "You saw it in me too, didn't you?" Stan met Kyle's eyes again.
Kyle looked at Stan's eyes for third time that day, and each time he did so, they looked drastically different. On the morning, they looked tired, sick, depressed, as if its life had been sucked out of it, as if it was not a window for his soul but a mirror that reflected what surrounded him. Then, earlier, after the concert, they seemed like they contained all the dreams in the world, the laughter of children and the kites that reached high up in the sky. But now his eyes … were just eyes. There wasn't anything particular about them now, besides the pupils being slightly dilated from being inebriated, they were just as natural as they could be. For the first time, Kyle saw someone in these eyes, not just feelings or emotions, not just the euphoria or the gloom of the surroundings but a person, a person was behind these eyes, that so carefully analyzed him.
Stan scanned Kyle's features carefully, seeing how soft they looked. The hooked nose, the hooded eyes that hid a thousand secrets beyond them, and eyebrows too perfect into shape… He had never quite seen someone who looked like Kyle; a painting from a genius of a past time, only soft brush strokes could be able to conjure someone who had a face as soft and innocent as Kyle's. It fascinated him, it intrigued him, and he wanted to keep him around.
"I did."
Was everything that Kyle could muster, and Stan was happy with that answer, however, their eye contact remained, the silence was so comfortable, the terror of such a dim night was gone in that small circle around them.
"Kyle?"
"Yes, Stan?"
"Can you get me to my car? I wanna sleep and I can't drive."
Kyle immediately snapped out of whatever trance - if it was up to him, he'd describe it as an out of body experience, where their souls were communicating - as Stan stretched his back and yawned, "Uh, sure dude, where's your keys?" Stan shoved his hands in his pockets, tossing him keys with a dangly keychain. Kyle got up, and offered Stan an hand, who left all the pulling to Kyle to lift him up, which wasn't easy, considering how much stronger in mass he was to Kyle.
Stan put his arm around Kyle's neck, again, and he sighed in annoyance. Lucky for him, the truck wasn't too far, but dragging him across the lawn and into the truck wasn't exactly the most pleasant thing. He opened the door to the backseat, gently pushing Stan inside, who obeyed with no manifesting. Kyle looked around, trying to find the jacket he'd thrown earlier when he left the car, and covered Stan with it.
"I can't drive you home, since I don't know where you live, but I'll tell the others you're here and they'll help." He reassured… which didn't work, because Stan was fast asleep already. In that case, Kyle thought of just driving to his place and then parking the truck back here when he returned, of course, telling the others as well.
Before he did anything, he stared at the sleeping Stan in front of him, wondering if he would remember any of this in the dreams he's having.