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you can only punch a locker so many times before it stops feeling fulfilling. the first time its almost instant relief, the second it’s meaningless and the third you just developed it as a habit. anytime something gets out of hand you punch a locker, your friend skips out on hanging out with you you punch a locker, your hair won’t sit right, punch a locker.
your knuckles start to wear and tear, bruised, bloodied, scabbed over. and at some points you wonder why you still do it. to feel something? to release some tension? maybe it was a backwards way of getting back at himself. to intentionally hurt himself.
but it’s not that deep. he’s just pissed off at everything, everyone. overstimulating sounds and colors. to many people talking at once, stop talking so much. his mom using a different laundry detergent that’s to...smelly. his feet feel like they’re being trapped by his shoes. everything felt like it was looking at him. a fuse felt like it had lit inside of him, scorching his organs. melting ever sense he had in him. they’re all so loud.
why won’t they stop looking at him? why does stan keep looking at him? what does he want? why is everything so loud?
“why won’t you all shut up!?” kyle exclaimed as he collided his fists against the sharp steel locker. interrupting eric mid sentence, all of his friends eyes on him. stan, kenny and butters had an almost sickening look of concern in their eyes. eric and clyde just looked confused and annoyed. his throat was closing.
“the fuck has gotten into you?” cartman asked his tone harsh and cold. it wasn’t unusual, but the fuse on burned brighter, faster. he was going to explode.
he pulled on his green hats flaps tugging to cover his eyes, “i need you to be quiet. all of you need to be quiet.” he couldn’t take it anymore he could feel every fabric of clothes rub against his skin. his zipper occasionally bumping into exposed skin. his hair was so itchy on his neck.
“how many sticks do you have shoved up your ass kyle?” eric asked his voice irritated at this point, he could feel everyone staring at him. eyes like knives digging into his skin.
“dude leave him alone,” stans voice butted in, familiar, but this wasn’t his place. stan didn’t need to protect him. he didn’t need stan to be his goddamn bodyguard. it was unnecessary.
“oh great kyle’s fuck buddy his here to protect his hoe.”
everyone needs to shut up. he just needs someone to help him find mr. mackeys office so he can sit there until this stops. so he’ll finally be in a quiet place. so he can get a few bandages for his busted up knuckles. so his brain stops feeling like scrabbled eggs and mashed potatoes. except with like liquid nitrogen mixed in.
“you’re such an asshole cartman, i can’t fucking stand you!”
“at least i don’t suck jew dick, stanley.”
there’s a crowd now, kyle can’t see it but he can sure as hell feel it. he can feel all the teenagers witness him having a melt down while his friends are fighting. he felt like a circus attraction. come one come all!! watch as a retarded child gets humiliated as his friends basically ignore his needs!
he can smell all the people around them, just staring. he hates this new laundry detergent his mom got, he can’t smell his jacket and feel safe anymore. all he’ll get is some gross eucalyptus bullshit. everything is so loud, he felt like was going to implode on himself. seep into the floor until he’s nothing more that a puddle.
“-ats why you’re an ignorant piece of shit!”
oh goody they’re still arguing. loudly. kyle just wants someone to lead him away. somewhere that’s doesn’t smell like eucalyptus, and that he can free his feet, and cover his face with his hat, and chew on his chapped lips. he wants to leave this noisy, smelly, stuffy, rancid room. he could feel the harsh sting of tears pricking at his eyes. he removed one hand from his hat as he felt it curl into a fist.
everything seemed to move in slow motion from there, knocking over eric before tackling stan to the ground. immediately punching him in the nose. punching a person was a lot different than a locker. humans are squishy, it’s like tenderizing meat. seeing where his hits connect turning into purple spots. with hitting lockers you only occasionally get the bent door. he wouldn’t call it more satisfying to hit people, it’s just different.
stan fought back. kneeing him in the gut, aiming for his eyes, slamming him to the floor. one thing that didn’t go unnoticed was stan not touching kyle’s hat. never trying to push it off, or force it off his head. stan was his best friend, he understood him better than anyone else could. like hell that’d stop him though.
the two kept fighting until being forcefully torn apart by mr. mackey. both out of breath and covered in blood and bruises, busted lips, bloody noses, scared knuckles. getting escorted to the consulars office to mostly like have a stern talking to.
the walk to his office was tense to say the least. kyle felt like a weight being pressed against his chest. like he was getting waterboarded, like he was sinking to the bottom of the ocean. getting stun and zapped by different animals.
“you two wanna explain yourself...m’kay,” mr. mackey started off with. his eyes reading concerned and focused.
“uh actually can we a have a moment to talk between each other privately,” kyle asked in a timid voice, pulling his hat over his eyes again.
“... m’kay but i’ll be back in five.”
after the door closed shut silence flooded the room. as pain settled into kyle’s bones, the adrenaline wearing its self off. a searing agony making a way into him. tears threatening to spill yet again, he felt like such a pussy. can’t even get into a fight with getting overwhelmed. god he just wants to be normal.
“dude why the hell did you attack me? eric was the one being a bitch,” stans didn’t sound mad, more like frustrated. upset. maybe disappointed? but it was good to know he wasn’t fucking fuming.
“i expect shit like that from cartman, i expect him to be a dick whenever... i get the way i am,” kyle paused briefly in between speaking, “but i’ve told you i don’t like it when you feel the need to protect me. i’m not ten anymore, i don’t need a bodyguard. i literally just kicked your ass, what i need is a support system. like whenever you see me freaking the fuck out, just guide me away from the situation.”
stan sat for a bit soaking up the information just given to him, “i’m sorry, kyle, i really am. i didn’t mean to treat you like you were powerless, i know you’re not. sometimes i get caught up in a weird savior complex and that’s not right.”
“thank you, i love you man. sorry for beating the shit outta you, i hope i didn’t break anything,” he gently took his hands off his hat, letting his eyes peak at stan. he had a fuck ton of acne, but right now it was muted by all the bruising.
“eh i doubt anything is broken, we always get into shit like this,” stan flashed him a reassuring smile, “if you don’t mind me asking what triggered...this one? i just wanna know just so i can do my best to prevent it.”
kyle took a few seconds to think about it, “it was all of you guys talking over each other, it was all so cluttered, so noisy. it was the smell of my clothes, my mom is using this stupid eucalyptus laundry detergent that smells like shit. it was you constantly glancing at me to make sure i was listening to you. thank you for asking it feels nice to talk about it.”
“yeah no problem man, i’ll do my best to prevent all that and if i can’t i’ll get you somewhere safe. do you wanna do your laundry at my house? i always have you your favorite detergent at my house,” stan only barely forced out the last part. his face flushed with red.
“fuck yeah dude anything is better than this.”
a soft chuckled fell through the room then a comfortable silence. the two stared at each other, stares lingering for longer than they should. their eyes locking as stan brushed their knuckles together. stan looked good, he always looked good. kyle’s eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, a bit of dried blood on his lower busted lip.
“are you two done in here?” mr. mackey asked with the door creaking open. both of the boys flinching in surprise and a bit of embarrassment.
kyle scooted his chair out, “yup we made up, sorted out our differences, blah blah blah.” he grabbed stans wrist as he lead him out of the room. waving goodbye to their school consular as they made way to their science class. one of the only classes they share together.
“do you wanna talk about what happened in there?” stan asked moving a hand to scratch underneath his pom pom hat.
“what’s there to talk about, we’re super best friends.”
he’s not in the mood for questioning the entirety of his relationship with his best friend. for the third time in the last two hours. he’s exhausted and wanted to get this last period over with so he could go home and nap. take his fried and frayed brain and give it a long rest. he can wonder if holding hands and prolonged glances are normal for friends later.
the meandering stroll to the science room was uncomfortably silent. both unsure how to continue a conversation like that. the lingering of unspoken feelings festering inside the air, it was only a matter of time before everything broke loose. before they get two high or drunk and just unleash their emotions in a cry fest.
“when do you wanna come over to do your laundry?” stan asked before actually entering the classroom. only about fifteen minutes of class left. honestly they could probably blow off the rest of class, get high at the back of the school. all the security cameras are broken and like hell they had money to fix it.
“how’s tomorrow after school sound? i’ve had one hell of a day and honestly i wanna go home and blow my brains out,” kyle sighed as he reached under his hat to reach an itch. stan brushed a soft orange lock out of the others face, his hand lingering longer than it should. this was so weird. why is everything so weird?
“your hair feels nice.”
“thank you stan, let’s get into class.”
he just wants to take a nap. curl up in his twin sized mattress and just be dead to the world for a few hours. feel his weighted blanket as he thought back on his day. the pit in his stomach forming as he remembers how thoroughly embarrassed himself.
whatever that was for later. he’ll think about it later.