Chapter Text
Kyle Broflovski rolled the window down, the cold breeze that exhaled from the window hitting his face like a slap in the face, a refreshing one however, that helped him focus on his day. He was the new kid after all, and a stressful day was just ahead of him. The houses rolled down the street slowly, and he noticed a few people were walking towards the school just like he was, he wondered if they could be his potential new classmates. One thing he was sure of, however, there was nothing he was looking forward to today. Besides being a new student, it was also a "shitty" town, in his words, and as brief as he could describe it. Moving from a hotter place with lots of movement such as the state of New Jersey was clearly a downgrade to this remote town situated to the mountains, where it appeared that its snow blanket was more common than any lively green color. It was a bummer really, and it made Kyle sink further down his passenger seat. Sheila looked over her son as she hit the brakes when the light turned red.
"Listen, bubba, I understand how you may feel now, but you'll make tons of friends! There's not that many people here anyway. It'll be easy." Kyle scoffed at her comment, finding it ironic how she contradicted herself in the same breath. But she was right, the anxiety didn't wash away so soon though, and he returned his gaze back to the street as soon as the light changed to green. Through mirage and the blur of the houses, the car stopped in the parking lot of the school. This would be the first and last time his mother would actually drive him to the school, in her view, this was some sort of encouragement, but walking out of your mother's car at the ripe age of 17 wasn't something that Kyle was particularly fond of.
"Don't forget your lunch bubba!" Just as he had jumped out of his seat in the car to step outside, he turned around to catch his mom waving a small plastic bag with a sandwich inside. "Ma!" He cursed, embarrassed, this commotion earning snickering from a few passerbys. He was quick to snatch the bag from his mom's hands and march out of there at a fast pace. A small cloud of relief came out of his mouth, glad that interaction was over and he could officially start the first day in the school. He had already been assigned a locker and so that's where he went to first, Kyle had arrived quite early and so the hallway would be flooded later, this was the perfect time to not bring any attention his way. He marched to his locker, already stuffing it inside with the books and material he had bought and the school had simultaneously given him. So far, it wasn't so much, but organizing always helped him set down his anxieties - something as simple as color sorting his locker brought him an odd feeling of calmness over his shoulders.
A figure walked right next to him, and he did not pay any mind, not because he didn't want to spark conversation but because he was too absorbed into sorting. "You go here, and you here…" mumbling, under his breath, Kyle moved each pen, each book, into the right place, if there was such a thing. The other person that was on the locker right next to his noticed his odd behavior, and instead of saying anything, he just stared, switching around glances to the hands that skillfully moved books by mere inches, to the focused gaze, that was half covered by a ushanka of a very bright green. "Now I have to make sure to not mess it up!" Kyle finished, shutting the door of his locker, satisfied with himself. He hadn't realized there was a person staring him down until now, and the anxieties he had just watered down suddenly returned.
The other person was only a mere inches taller than him, but bulkier in build. Just by appearance alone, Kyle could tell it was one of these jocks from football that had shit for brains and would be quick to boast and laugh at his expense. All he could hope for is that he wouldn't make a scene right there.
"You new?" Was all that the stranger said to him, the voice slurred, and when Kyle finally met his eyes he noticed he looked quite tired, an internal exhale and his anxieties calmed down. He didn't look as scary after all, and after a quick pause, he responded. "Yes." short and simple. His voice was high-pitched, something odd for a guy his age, and something Kyle was insecure over, but Stan didn't bat an eye.
"Stan." Kyle tilted his head, was that his name? Well, he must have been very tired in order to not even form a full sentence, hell, not even say more than 3 words in one. Figuring it would be better to just return the energy, "Kyle." He pointed to himself. Stan gave him a small smile. This was going much easier than he thought.
"Wanna me to walk to class?"
Kyle blinked, unsure what he meant. This kid was clearly out of it or under some sort of influence. "Well, I'm not the one who decides that."
Stan shrugged, and started walking away, disappearing into the crowd. "What the hell was that?" Kyle pondered, and before he could muster a response, the deafening ring of the bell ceased his thoughts.
The cluster of people started moving hurriedly and soon they had all vanished, but Kyle stood there, unsure of where his classroom even was. He slapped his forehead, realizing now he could have asked that weird kid for directions. It was fine, as long as he could remember what direction he went earlier, he figured. After some trial and error, he came across a classroom that had its door open and matched the number of the one he was supposed to go to. And before even entering, the teacher gave him one glance and announced his entrance.
"Now now, we got a new kid in our hands, so y'all better be fuckin' nice to him!" The teacher ordered. It was an older guy, around 50 years old, with little hair on the top of his head and grizzly hair on the sides. His tone was sluggish and sounded quite forced, not in an inviting way. Hell, nothing about stepping foot in there was welcoming, but he did so anyway. Immediately, one of the boys started booing him, which made him confused. Kyle looked up from the floor to find the guy and saw the culprit, sitting in the back, with a red shirt and a blue beanie, booing him and giving him a thumbs down. Out of a fit of rage, he was ready to yell at him, but the teacher was quicker than him. "Shut up Eric or you're going to the office!" The boy sat down immediately, silent.
The teacher looked back at Kyle sternly, with wide eyes, and he knew what he had to do, introduce himself. He gripped the straps of his backpack tighter and gulped dry before. "Name's Kyle Broflovski. Thanks." Kyle was basically facing the floor when he directed his short introduction, and quickly made his way over an empty desk at the front. This experience was surreal already, and the day had just started. Perhaps it could get better from now on, the first day is always the worst. He hurriedly took the stuff out of his backpack and placed his notebook strategically on the desk, getting comfortable, and the teacher turned around to explain math equations. There were small whispers behind him, which he bet were about him and how terrible everything went so far – god, if only that kid hadn't booed him, everything would have gone way better. Who even was him? Kyle pulled down his ushanka, fidgeting with the flaps, trying to clear out his head, feeling as though the eyes of everyone were all on him. A tap on his shoulder. He turned around in a flash, to encounter who the doer was, it was the guy from earlier.
"Just wanted to say sorry for Cartman. He sucks." Stan whispered, trying to piece up some sort of comfort mixed with a friendly smile. Kyle felt a bit uneasy by the gesture but just went with a small smile and faced the board again, writing down whatever kind of bullshit equation the teacher came up with – what kind of math was that? It wasn't even anything in his textbooks. This school year would be harder than he anticipated.
Quickly enough, the bell rang for a recess. He decided to stay inside, both because he had no friends and also because he was not sure of where to go. The teacher bolted off the room, fast, and some of the students left while others stayed inside, chatting loud and clear. He took this time as an opportunity to get a glimpse of his classmates, something he didn't have the chance of doing earlier. There was a small group of just men sitting together in a corner, most of them looked like they were in the football team, and one of them even had his arm over another one - how nice, an inclusive school - he giggled to himself in his seat. On the other side, there was another group, smaller in size, with this so-called "Cartman", a guy in an orange parka, and Stan. Oh, Stan was already looking at him. He furrowed his eyebrows once he realized and decided to just go talk to them, getting up and walking towards the trio in the corner.
"Hey, what the hell was that for?" He threw his arms in the air.
"Whaddya mean?" Cartman smiled innocently, fluttering eyelashes. It made Kyle even angrier, "Don't what me! Who the hell do you think you are to boo me?"
"Why do you caaaare so bad?" Cartman smirked, and Kyle's eye twitched. Just as he was about to continue their argument, Stan had grabbed his arm, which oddly grounded Kyle, and instead he just huffed out his nose.
"I told you. Cartman is just an ass sometimes. Anyway, feel free to sit with us at lunch, new kid-"
"Kyle."
"Yes, Kyle."
Once again, Kyle noticed just how groggy this guy was, speaking all confused, as if he wasn't really there. On the other hand, he was way more grounded than the one in the orange parka, which is saying a lot. Kyle doesn't think that in any of the times he's looked at the blonde he's seen the color of his eyes. The pupils were too dilated, not a good sign. This trio was possibly just the druggies in the school, which is normally a group to avoid. But it was the best he could have for now, who knows, maybe that other group would walk up to him as well. And so, without uttering any other word besides an exchange of glances, Kyle made his way back to the desk at the front, returning to the comforts of his mind.
The time dwelled, and the microseconds until lunch were counted intricately. Stan basically bolted out of his seat as soon as the bell rang, being the first one to leave the classroom, now his mission was to find Butters and Jimmy in the cafeteria, being the first one there would make things easier. Noticing he had spare change, he thought of buying something for the new kid, Kyle, out of courtesy. Maybe it would help when persuading him, he thought. Out of all options, just grabbing a soda seemed the best option, and so he walked off with his tray of overly dry and unseasoned food to the usual table his group would sit.
Truth is, the queen bee Bebe would have a party tonight and this was perfect for his band to play on, as usually her parties went much further than just the school, sometimes kids from other cities would also come there. Playing for a crowd his age was his favorite thing to do, and everyone loved it anytime they saw Crimson Dawn play, a win-win. He had to get all the eyes he could get, as a means to grow without selling himself to a cheap label that would censor his true self; his aura was in the music he wrote, having it censored meant it was no longer his.
His other friends joined in on the table, and Kyle sat next to him without uttering a word. He looked around the table and Cartman was already bickering with Butters for something useless, everyone else looking bored and annoyed out of their minds, he had to speak soon.
"Hey dude," he turned his gaze to Kyle, who immediately stopped chewing his chicken sandwich, with a mouth full, like he'd been caught doing an illicit act. Ever since morning, this kid just looked like he had too much in his mind, "I got you a drink. No idea what you like so I just got you a Sprite. Safe choice." He shrugged, handing the drink that sat on his tray. The can had long lost his coldness and was lukewarm, still nice to enjoy however. Kyle's eyes brightened and he immediately swallowed the food stuck in his cheeks. "Thanks. Sprite's actually my favorite." Neat.
Now, Stan turned to the whole table, tapping the glass cup with a fork, something he saw in a movie about rich people. It worked, and the conversations on the table were dropped fast enough. "Guess what band is gonna play at the party tonight?" Butter's eyes brightened, "Is it Crimson Dawn?" Stan nodded, and he high-fived Kenny who sat next to him.
"In this case, Stan, may we practice before school at your p-p-place?" Jimmy, asked, with his very polite tone, and Stan agreed. All the boys were all pretty excited about this whole gig, it was no lie, however two of the guys weren't so convinced, namely Cartman and Kyle.
"You guys still on that gay band bullshit?" he commented, through chewing on his second hamburger, receiving and angry look from Stan "YOU were the one to have a band first. Not my fault it failed and mine didn't."
"You were in that band too," Eric retorted, "Well, I'm the leader of this one. Maybe that's why it didn't fail." Cartman huffed, without continuing, knowing he'd just go down a rabbit hole he couldn't win.
Kyle elbowed Stan softly, to gain his attention, "You have a band?" He nodded. "That's cool. Where are you playing?"
"At this one girl's party. She's really popular in the school and outside. You should come."
Kyle stayed silent for a second, considering how good of an offer this was, going to a party when you're new is a good way to get to know everyone better, but he imagined how big the party would be - how many people there would be, maybe people from other schools as well - as if the cafeteria didn't give him enough sensory issues with all the noise, a party would be a nightmare.
Stan stared at him blankly, a grin plastered over his face.
Maybe Kyle could just enjoy the music and forget anyone else existed, in this case, he wouldn't have to worry about anyone else.
"Alright. But I don't know where it-"
"I can pick you up." Stan blurted out, not really sure of his own words. Kyle cocked an eyebrow and shrugged - where the hell did that come from? Too late for backtracking though, the conversation had long been dropped and the table was on an entire different topic that Stan wasn't able to catch up on.
The rest of the day went relatively easily, Kyle avoided long conversations and stuck to introducing himself to other people; the group he had saw earlier were indeed in the football team. Craig Tucker, Tolkien Black and Clyde Donovan. Jimmy Valmer and Tweek Tweak weren't, though, as they attended different activities. Tweek was a bartender and Jimmy was the "reporter" of the school, and also in a band. He also learned that Stan was also in the football team, but was known to slack off a lot, something that became an inside joke in that group. Kenny worked several part time jobs and did not have time for extracurricular activities and Cartman just didn't do anything. Kyle would have to check the offers, he figured, if he wanted to get along with people and get to know them. Perhaps joining the student council would be a good bet, the other girl in charge, Wendy, seemed strong and confident and it was a great incentive. That was the most he knew from his whole class for now - oh, and Bebe, whose party would take place tonight. She was kind enough to invite him over and give him the address, so he wouldn't have to rely completely on Stan, dared he to try anything against him. As soon as the bell rang, the students all bolted out of the classroom, Kyle sitting stagnant in his seat, awaiting the mess to settle down; safety precautions.
He huffed and got up, leaving the classroom, feeling his neck burn up. Was someone watching him? Maybe looking back would make him look insane, it was better to simply walk faster and hope the sentiment would leave quick. He fastened his pace, exiting the building and walking towards his house, which would be a 20 minute route long, 10 if he was fast. But the feeling didnt leave, making Kyle even more paranoid. "Did anybody know?" he thought, playing it over and over in mind, afraid someone had found out his secret. If they did, they were probably following him to throw it in the face, to blackmail him and-
He stopped in his tracks. Someone grabbed his shoulder, and if he was nervous before, now he had gotten the confirmation. His stomach sank down and his feet became rocks, forever immovable. "Hey dude, why are you runnin' away from me?"
A sense of peacefulness washed over his shoulders when he heard Stan's voice echoing in his ears, but it still bothered him. "Well, sorry for getting scared of being followed?" Kyle quizzed, turning around on his heel to face Stan. Now he had a much more cheery expression, nothing like what he'd seen early in the morning. He could tell he got embarrassed, for he darted Kyle's eyes and ruffled through his hair. "Yeah, so, I figured that if I'm gonna pick you up, I sorta need your address."
"So, instead of asking me, you just followed me?"
Stan paused, pursing his lips, trying to make a sensical answer, and Kyle's smirk wasn't helping at all. Well, at the very least, it reassured he wasn't as upset as he should have been, Stan didn't know Kyle that well, and a person you had just met following you to your home wasn't something of proper etiquette, some would say it's even stalking.
"I was trying to catch up to you but you walk, like, really fast!" He excused, kicking the snow on the pavement under his feet, as if he was a kid who had been caught eating a cookie when he wasn't supposed to.
"Well, you can walk with me to my house. It's not so far anyway-"
He interjected, "Actually, can you give me your number and text me your address?" Kyle looked at him, perplexed, but agreed and pulled out his phone, "It's because all these houses all look the same and I don't wanna get confused with them, even though I used to live here…" Stan divagated, thinking outloud, and mimicked the action of pulling out his phone. Kyle just assumed he meant he moved out, but in that sense, he'd know whoever lived in the neighborhood so… What was the need for this, exactly? Broflovski figured asking questions would be to no avail, and simply gave the other guy his number and drifted into the neighborhood.
Stan stared at his phone, spaced out, unsure of what happened. That's when he realized he just followed this person for, what, about ten minutes just to get his number; what was that about? Why was he so eager about whoever this person was? Useless questions, there was an elephant in the room that needed to be addressed:
"Why am I even here if my car is still in the parking lot…"