Chapter Text
The water was calm and cool, a silk woven blanket laid by the heavens. A few finches flew by and landed in old looming willow trees with hanging reeds decorated in small white blossoms. The finches sang their little songs and filled the air with delight, a few breaking off of the harmony with pick at a stray white petal, falling from it's vine. The sun shone in just a way that filtered through the trees onto the plush grassy earth, but simultaneously lit up the world around it. It was a bright day, few clouds, a small warm breeze, not too warm but just enough to keep a person comfortable. Small rainbows glinted off the surface of the quiet pond, the rays reflected dancing on the silent air. It was picturesque, it was perfect, but it wasn't real. Nothing was anymore, at least not to me.
The world surrounding me was not quiet, but silent. The type of silence that comes right after someone does a terrible thing, the kind that fills your ears with the rings of a million distant office phones. This is the kind of silence people dread, everyone that has experienced it detests it. It's uncomfortable and suffocating, it cleans white tendrils reaching down your throat then grabs out a cry that cannot be let free from your brain, it snatches your thoughts and leaves you silent too. It will take everything from you, and leave you empty too. My silence was named Kyle.
Kyle was bright, the type of person to hold on and never let go, Kyle was my best friend. We had no one else, so we clung to each other, over years and years of being the only ones the other could confide in was suffocating in a way. We couldn't complain about something the other one did, the ways they might have wronged us. I kept silent and Kyle did too. It was a mutual silence for a while, calming and comfortable, until it wasn't. Kyle had done something horrendous, unforgivable and I let him do it. He broke his own mother’s nose and ripped out chunks from old family photos while screaming blood tears. His voice was shrill and pitchy, I stayed at the dining room table, mouth agape. Nothing had even happened, he just poofed and my Kyle was gone. My sweet, caring, lovely Kyle was a beast now, some sort of Kyle monster. His mom was sure as hell going to call the cops on him, on us.
Loud noises weren’t something good, if someone was yelling it meant something was bad, it meant fear, and anger and all the bad things that could ever happen to someone. Laughter was okay at times, Kyle’s laugh was wild, more like a noble wolf’s howl ripping into the cool night air. His laugh was wild like him. But now he was less like that loyal pack leader and more like a ravenous outsider, hardened by the ways of a cruel life. His claws sank into my arms as he ripped me away from the table, his mother left in a heap on the floor. I mouth a silent sorrysorrypleaseforgiveus as he whisked me out of the dining room.
Blood trickled slowly out of my forearm as he hauled me up the stairs, his mouth was moving a mile a minute but everything was quiet, the distant bells were the only thing keeping me grounded now. I felt nothing from my arm where he had me in his clutches, nothing where my legs banging into each other at the knees. Stupid legs. My brain wasn't mush, it was anything but, I felt amazing, on fire, but amazing. Kyle threw his door open with such force it left a small crack in the wall it bounced against, he didn't bother to shut it. Instead he grabbed my overnight bag and a duffle bag of his own, his mouth had stopped moving now, maybe I was okay. Maybe he really had just been quiet this whole time. As he packed his bag he let go of my arm, seeing the little red dots of blood forming under my skin, and the little rivulets that managed to fall away from the wound, his eyes softened. He had lost the edge that the anger had given him, he looked distantly sad now and he pulled more of his belongings into the beat up old duffel bag.
His jaw hardened and set again as he slung the bag over his shoulder, gently leading me back downstairs by my other arm. He spoke not a word to the crying, bleeding wisp of a woman that he called mother as we left. Kyle’s mother had always been a kind person, helping us with school projects and taking us to and from school when we needed it. Occasionally during the rare event of a sleepover at her house, we could hear her yelling and thrashing around in her study. Kyle said she was an artist, a creator, but he said it with such a tone I could never take him seriously. Then howling laughter and screaming joy filled the house with pleasant sound to drown out the wild woman that occupied the small room at the end of the hall. Kyle didn’t even look like her, maybe underneath all the layers of dirt and blood, somewhere deep inside, he was just like that mad mother of his.
Kyle’ hair was fiery red and curly, at first it looked unnatural on his white pale skin, but after a while it was weird if he looked any different. Once it had been long, full of thick curls that were carefully tucked under his favorite hat everyday. He couldn't live without that damn hat, it made more sense when he shaved it all off, leaving a trail of red fire where it had been buzzed. He said his ears were cold or he felt stupid for having shaved it all off, but I knew it was for safety, it brought him comfort for so long, it’d become a routine for him.
We stalked the streets near-by, we probably looked like criminals prowling the defenseless streets of the suburbia. Kyle and I used to love walking the blocks of our small neighborhood, it was almost a part of our daily routine. Now this place felt foreign, a ghost of its former youth. I wasn't scared or anything, I just felt . . . empty? Nothing was there to fill that damned hole in my brain that needed something or someone to fix it. My ears still rang their triumphant bells that tried so desperately to dim the silence that occupied the space between my ears and brain. This body is a cesspool and I just so happen to inhabit it, I don't exactly hate myself, just certain parts of me. Like this body, it's pale and the limbs are too long and that, I always talk about myself as if it's some foreign object.
Though little by little my sense came back to me, I realized Kyle had been speaking to me on the walk, that felt more like a drag, through the streets. All of his supposedly comforting words fell upon deaf ears, quiet literally. I still couldn't hear, absolutely no idea how to communicate that to Kyle came to this stupid flesh ball I can half-heartedly call a brain. So, I poked his shoulder and pointed to my ear and shook my head, hoping he got the idea, praying to whatever god there was or wasn't that he could understand. He nodded with a small smile, the one he wore when he had to tell his baby brother something bad had happened, the one he had especially for me whenever I broke down. Kyle understood me, he knew what I was feeling at any given time, he knew me. And I knew him, my Kyle.
The buses hadn’t stopped running yet, thank hell, usually in this shit-hole of a town nothing works and all the adults are much too stupid to figure out how to fix it without any help from some 4th graders. The bus would be here in twenty minutes, so we sat on the cold, hard, kinda-damp-and-sticky, city made bus stop bench. Kyle still spoke even though now he knew he was just talking to herself, then the panic began to set in. He broke his mother’s nose. I can't hear a single thing. Kyle has a black eye. We left the house. Kyle has both of our bags strapped to each of his shoulders. Slowly then all at once, my body collapsed in on me. Every danger siren and red flashing light went off behind my eyes, my brain knew what was about to happen and so did Kyle.
I couldn't remember much from before Kyle’ fist collided with his mom’s nose, but I must’ve eaten dinner or maybe it was lunch. I couldn't be too sure, but whatever it was, it didn't look pretty coming back up and splashing onto the cracked sidewalk. Vomiting was normal for me, it happened all the fucking time, even when I tried to stop it. Happy? Vomit. Sad? Vomit some more. Just saw the world’s cutest puppy? Barf your guts out. Nothing could stop it, so you just gotta learn to roll with it. And carry a plastic bag with you everywhere.
The dirty city bus pulled up to the curb, Kyle held both of my shoulders from behind and helped walk me to the bus. My legs shook so violently that they threatened to give out, my hands did the same. Damn it all. Kyle always had to be the strong one in whatever wacky situation we decided to get ourselves into. At least I couldn't get sick again. Wrong. My guts decided to empty themselves right outside the bus doors onto the road, the bus driver looked disgusted. But who was he to turn away two run-away teenagers who looked more beat up then Mike Tyson’s opponent after a bad match.
Kyle sat on the outside and I was placed on the inside, he protected me from the others on the bus, it's what he was good at. He was tough, but he could be sweet when he wanted to, just not around most people. My bag held all I would need for a sleepover at Kyle’ which meant a little bit of everything, game cards, a broken phone charger, pajamas, and a couple boxes of brownies to bake. I liked to bake and Kyle liked to eat, we were like the perfect pair, two best friends against the world. Okay well maybe not against the world, and maybe not just the two of us, we had other friends that we were both equally close with, but we always preferred each other. We all hung out at each other’s houses, but Kyle and I always went to each other's afterwards, gossiping all the way back down to his house.
I had to move away after living in South Park for my whole life, just outside of town on a stupid farm my dad bought when he got way too high. Yet another one of his ideas that only succeeded when fuelled by the suffering of the rest of his family. The farm itself wasn't bad, just him and his friends that he loved to have over after late nights partying, he sure did love to pretend he was a college kid again. He even joined some random college frat since he was so bored with being a geologist who likes to grow weed. Everyone in our family hated marijuana, only him, and to us that proved how selfish he was. Up-rooting us to a farm growing something we all hated, but that's just how dad was. A selfish drunkard who cared more about himself than his family, a bastard we could all hate.
The bus moved slowly down the road, there were about four stops before it would take us out of town. The roads were already covered in gross grey slush even though it was only mid-November, but this was typical Colorado weather, stupid hot summers and way too cold winters. Everything sucked here and it never got better. A few people shuffled on in a single file line, an old lady carrying a cat, a middle aged man going home from his soul-sucking dead-end job and another woman who looked much too fancy to be on a Greyhound bus in middle-of-nowhere Colorado. There were already a couple people sparsely scattered around the bus when we got there, but now just about every seat on the small bus was filled. The middle-aged man sat down next to Kyle, who in turn, scooched a little closer to me. I knew he was uncomfortable, so I scoured at him with the meanest face I could muster. He looked away quickly, so I guess I must’ve looked pretty damn mad.
Time seemed to crawl by slower than a honey covered snail on this fucking bus, people sulking on and off into the frigid night air to go back to whatever lives they had. In a way, we were all the same here. It felt like we had all the time in the world to just sit and have meaningless conversations while staring out the fogged windows into the dreary night. It wasn't exactly snowing or raining, just somewhere in between the two, a sleet type of precipitation but with a little more slush and depression added to it. This type of rain could chill you right through six layers of coats and stick to your bones for an eternity, you never really could get rid of the cold here. It always just decided to stick around, as if any of us could withstand the heat that would replace it eventually, we wished it off as much as we could.
Kyle was warm, he always was. Kyle was dependable, Kyle was a lot of things. He had a hair-trigger temper and violent outbursts, but he was the best friend I ever could’ve asked for. He understood me and all my things, all the stupid family crap and everything else. We knew everything about each other ever since birth, we were the only ones for each other.
We’re inseparable, we’re best friends and that was that. Now we’re here, sitting on this grungy bus filled with random people and uncomfortable stares. Kyle broke his mom’s goddamn nose and now we’re here. He packed all his stuff into a single bag and brought it on this bus and he took me with him. Inseparable, that's what we are. It’s not a co-dependency, it's not a normal friendship, it's not love, it's not nothing. We’re just two people, who happened to live by each other and just so happened to never be apart ever again. Kyle and Stan, two friends, never apart, never alone, always together.
Kyle’s firm hand resting on my shoulder broke me out of my state, what did Kyle call it again? Dissociation? Probably, he liked learning about medical things ever since his mom had that surgery when we were younger. He really wanted to be a doctor or a psychologist. I was the one that made him want to get into more mental health stuff, it's kinda funny to think about now, but I know it helps that he knows stuff I don’t.
This time her hand lifted and tapped my shoulder, I’d gone out of my head again. Kyle looked expectantly at me before speaking in a soft dort of whisper, “Our stop is next, okay?” His smile was reassuring, but his tone indicated danger. Instinctively I whipped my head around, eyes hungry to see exactly who was causing Kyle’s whispering. The middle aged seemingly polite business man still sat on the bus. While I was away more and more people had shuffled off the bus into the stale evening air. He sat exactly one row behind us, in the set of seats opposite ours, staring very intently back at me.
I turned back to Kyle, a little smile in a pathetic attempt to bring some comfort to him. Neither of our heads moved from their positions, staring straight ahead, barely blinking, awake and alert. Things like this were common in buses like this everywhere, pedophilic adults staring at teenagers, making the world feel less and less safe with every passing moment. This is precisely why I hated adults, other than the fact that they got to do whatever they wanted without consequence. Adults sucked and so did this bus.
With a screeching halt, we were thrust into our stop, we didn’t take the time to look back at the man in the row behind us, Kyle smiled at the poor exhausted driver while we hauled ass off that god-forsaken bus. The stop wasn't too far from the farm, less than a five minute walk, but we didn’t have time for those five minutes. Those five minutes could be the difference between having our lives intact or the latter. I had always been a bit more athletic than Kyle, he was good at fights, but I could run faster than the other kids our age. I grabbed Kyle’s hand and with a small yelp, we took off like bats out of hell. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug, the unathletic Kyle was matching paces with me as we dashed for our very surely in danger lives.
The Tegridy Weed farm sign was in view, it was close, we could reach it! Just reach out and then we would be safe! There was no man and there was no danger, anywhere in sight. He hadn’t followed us off the bus, we were safe. We looked at each other with adventure in our eyes and wild toothed smiles spreading across our faces. The howling laughter began again, we screamed obscenities into the night as if this was our last good moment before our complete and utter doom.
Then the adrenaline wore off, we were somewhat normal functional teenagers again, not howling screaming animals that had lost all self control as they swore into the night. We straightened ourselves out before going up the dirt path that led to the front of the small farm house I called home. This was the usual meeting place for sleepovers and other such things, group activities were never at either of our houses when it could be helped. But this is where Kyle and I belonged, we were always here together. This place was only temporary, but right now, we felt like it would last forever.
My keys were deep in my pocket as I attempted to fish them out. I tripped still shaking from the adrenaline, so much of it in one night probably wasn't good for one person all at once. I felt the hot sting of tears in the corners of my eyes that I desperately fought back as Kyle grabbed my arm and steadied me against him. When did it get so warm, wasn't it like about to be winter? Being next to Kyle felt good and once the universe righted itself and I had a good enough hold on the stupid keys in my pocket we got inside the rickety farm house.
The house wasn't big by most people’s standards, it had a second floor, just enough bedrooms and shared bathroom and enough termites and other bugs to last a starving man a lifetime. The fields took up the most space, that and dad’s precious barn. He spent all his time out there with whomever he decided was worth more time and attention than his family, usually one of his friends or some random person he found to go get high as all hell with him. He barely ever did anything except tend to his stupid plants and smoke. A stereotypical deadbeat dad.
Shelly was probably in her room like usual, she hated dad and I’ve always been pretty sure she hated me too, she didn’t seem to care for much other than her friends and her vape. Mom was at the table doing paperwork for the farm, she basically did everything actually important, she’d always been the better parent which is to be expected when the other is a total dumbass. She was often too busy with work or chauffeuring Shelly off somewhere to go and get groceries. The pantry food was alright most nights.
Kyle spoke first, “Hey Mrs M, we’re uh,” he paused, thinking of what would be a good excuse, “We’re going up to Stan's room for a while.” He punctuated his sentence with a sincere smile.
Mom smiled back, “Okay kids, have fun.” and turned back to whatever paperwork he was doing previously. I grinned at Kyle like a thief as we dashed up the stairs, careful to avoid the extra creaky ones. Shelly’s door was closed as per usual, but mine was still open, just the way I left it. Someone would’ve closed it by now, swearing under their breath, but I guess they’re all too busy with their own lives to tend to mine at the moment.
Dad was still unaccounted for in the house, which was a miracle. He’s always so loud and as much as Kyle says he doesn't mind loud, I do. No one human person should be at that level of volume constantly, honestly, I don't know how we’re not all deaf by now. Life was going as planned, Kyle’s mom hadn’t called mine yet, so she must be tending to herself or Kyle’ little brother. They’d probably scared him in all the commotion, although he was probably preoccupied with call of duty, it was his game of the week (patent pending) and it absorbed every drop of attention he had, the kid already had enough dead brain cells to fill a mason jar, and I don't think he needs anymore.
Kyle flopped down on my bed, it was old and too small for me, my feet dangled over the edge of it whenever I wanted to lay down. But Kyle seemed to fit in it perfectly, that's just what he did everywhere, fit in. Perfectly. Kyle was perfect to me. I closed the door behind me, didn't want helly to come in and complain about how loud we were for the billionth time.
I sat on the floor, Kyle hanging upside down off the bed to see what I was gonna put on for music, it felt like a death metal kind of night. Something to scream along to and get all the feelings out before one of us broke down crying again, anger was a pretty good substitute for sadness, even though I did like to wallow in it. His smile was pretty, it always made me feel whole. Like a person, an actual human instead of some sad little blob with a name and an id card. Kyle was real and he made me feel real too.
The speakers in the room were old, my dad gave ‘em to me for my 9th birthday, right after I started the band. He wanted me to make money, of course he did, but I wouldn’t let his sub-plot affect me. The band did pretty well locally for a while, attracting a certain crowd that metal usually does. Some Chinese company tried to buy us out, but we stuck through it, we were tough. That was our brand, some random kids banding together and making a shitty death metal band with absolutely zero skills and still, somehow, lasting into highschool. We only got to play occasionally on weekends now, my dad got pretty pissed at us for being loud, talk about a double standard.
Kyle didn’t love metal, he had a stronger preference for classic rock or old country. All of the good-oldies, he had an old soul and he was perfect. The latest song off of the album he chose blared through the speakers, it was a good scream-along song, great for venting all the night's frustrations. Kyle sighed and flopped onto the floor beside me, he looked completely boneless as he landed with a thump. A smile cracked my face into two, this is how things were, it was exactly our normal.
Hunger panged in my stomach as it growled, my face instantly heated, “I uh, I didn’t really get to eat at your house.” Kyle cracked a grin and poked my stomach. His face darkened as he stared at me, “It’s feeding time.” He tried his best to sound intimidating, even though it didn’t work. I snorted and slapped my knee so hard it burned, “We must feed the beast,” he uttered, “It requests flesh!” He grabbed my torso and tickled my ribs. I screamed with laughter, I usually hated being tickled, but Kyle was the exception, as always. Then he suddenly stopped as her stomach growled too. He gasped, “They need to feed!” He climbed off me and scooped me up off the floor and hauled me to my feet.
“We must feed!”
“To the feeding grounds!”
We giggled like schoolgirls as we scuffled down the stairs, seeking flesh to satiate our hunger, or some leftover dinner. Mom was still at the table, paperwork still in hand, he looked a bit more frazzled now. She smiled up at us from her seat at the table then continued on with her work. Kyle walked with his legs turned out and bent knees to the fridge making a dumb face, snatching it open to peer inside. Nothing much, seems no one had gone grocery shopping yet this week or in the past few weeks for that matter.
The fridge was barren. Some of dad’s off-brand beer, old milk, Shelley’s ‘special’ yogurt and a little bit of leftover fast food from a few nights ago. We settled on the mildly stale old burgers and a bag of chips from the pantry then ran back upstairs calling a quick thank you! to mom as we went. Hopefully someone would remember to get some more food soon.
“Yeah! Second dinner!,” Kyle screeched, “Man your mom is so chill, she really just lets us eat whatever.”
“You say that every time you’re here, y’know?” Kyle acted as if there was a grand buffet and not gross old fast food.
“True, but it boggles my mind, totally weird,” he paused to munch on a bit of cold burger, “Your family is so weird, but like a nice weird? It’s comforting, I guess. I dunno.” He trailed off into some tangent like always then silenced himself with another bite of burger.
The burgers were barely good when they were fresh and warm, but now they were cold, stale and probably 3 days old. A dumpster fire in the form of cuisine, absolutely terrible. I was too hung up on the awfulness of the burgers I forgot to listen to Kyle, he’d started on another tangent about how nice it was to eat fast food even if it was shitty.
“Y’know these are so much better than veggie burgers? They make ‘em with black beans and all these nasty vegetables and shit,” he took another bite, “You gonna eat yours?” His mouth was full and he spewed a few crumbs on my carpet. I gagged and threw it at her head. He caught it, obviously. He was somewhat athletic and his parents only made healthy food, so of course he would never miss something like a burger being chucked at her head.
“You think my house is weird? Look at your own place, it’s so nice there! Your family is functional and you don't have to share a bathroom.”
“You just don't get it, it sucks always having to be perfect and I don't even have my own bathroom, I share with Ike.”
“At least he’s potty trained, my dad is barely housebroken.” I gagged at the memory of having to clean the bathroom after one of those nights where he had been out with some friends. Mom was pissed when he got home.
We broke into muffled laughter which took away some of the resentment towards Dad that I was feeling. All the noises of the night on the farm were blanketed by the music drifting out of the speakers. The songs were slower now, ballads instead of heavy death metal, a steady bass setting the mood for a night in. Who knows, maybe we’d follow the music and go out to the fields, light something on fire. Maybe we could burn the whole place down, let it all fall away to ash while we laughed like maniacs. That’d be fun, but it wasn't reality.
Kyle grabbed me by both the shoulders looking dead serious. Then in a theatrical way, stood both of us up and twirled me around as if I weighed nothing. The song had changed, no more classic rock, but something softer. I Walk the Line, one of Kyle’s favorites, classic Cash.
“This is my favourite song we have to dance right now.” We were both exhausted from everything, but a little dancing never hurt anyone right? Wrong. I tripped over both of my feet and stepped on Kyle’ toes while he swept me off my feet and used me like a rag doll to dance. I was taller than him, but hunched trying to figure out how not to break all of his toes, my knees knocked together and gave out. My head rammed into his chest, hard. I knocked the wind out of him and we both collapsed to the carpeted ground.
He wheezed trying to collect his stolen breath, as I panted into the carpet. I lay face down with sore knees and toes that may as well be broken. Kyle was just about the same as me, feeling dead with some carpet burn or so it seemed anyways. The strong thrum of the old country guitar still rang out around us, playing a melody of the moment, a melody just for us.
“Y’know,” Kyle started, “You almost killed me for a second! You’re lucky I refuse to die so easily.” He flashed me a faked scowl with dark eyes then melted right back into that comfortable warmth we always held.
“Yeah right! You wanted me to dance with you.” I faked anger as I sat back upward, my back hitting the cool wood of my rickety old bed frame.
“Whatever” Kyle giggled.
We sat there for what felt like hours just laughing and catching our breath, doing things everyone else does. Being normal, that’s what Kyle had called it, when weirdos like us get a taste of what regular human experience. Kyle was right, we weren’t what normal people were, we were strange, wild, crazy people who couldn't give a fuck what the world thought about us. Because we had each other and that was good enough for us.