Work Text:
"What's got you stressin', doll?" Kenny addressed as he plucked the E string on his bass. After a second of deliberation, he twisted the nob to tighten the string.
Marjorine exhaled harshly, looking up from the guitar lying in her lap. It was a well-loved instrument, sentimental stickers old and new adorning the body. Her finger idly traced the Orca one gifted to her by her boyfriend. It was one of the fresher ones, though the edges were beginning to grow slightly fuzzy.
"Kyle," she frowned, "well- not Kyle," she was quick to correct, realizing just a moment too late the implications of the one-worded response "Ken, I'm stumped on what to get him for a gift."
Twitching his nose, Kenny looked away in thought. Mindlessly, he rechecked his E string.
“You try asking him?” He moved to the A string.
“That ruins the surprise of it all!” Marjorine exclaimed, falling back onto the worn fabric couch with stains she learned to stop questioning. Frowning, she eyed the ceiling, “it’s our first holidays together, I just wannit to be special, y’know?”
“Hello party pee-puh-people!” Jimmy greeted as he descended the stairs.
“Sup Jim,” Kenny gave him a little wave.
“Jeez guys, it feels like a fuh- fyu-funeral in here, why so sad?” Jimmy frowned as he approached the drumset in the corner.
“Trouble in paradise,” Kenny informed as he loosened his A string.
“Oh?” Jimmy looked at Marjorine expectantly, “well I always knew Kyle was a nuh- no good two-”
“No!” Marjorine sat upright quickly, holding her guitar still, “nothing like that- Jesus Ken!” She shook her head to dispel the troubling thoughts of actual relationship issues. “It’s- I don’t know what to get him.”
“Well, have you asked Stan? They are suh-super best homos.”
Kenny barked a laugh.
“Asked me what?” Stan jogged down the stairs.
“Nothing,” Marjorine groaned, frustrated with the conversation.
“Something about Kyle?”
“Guys please can we just get on with rehearsal?” She pulled on her guitar strap, standing up and hoping the growing stress would fade on its own after getting into music.
“Right,” Stan clapped his hands together, “Christmas music, Jim did you print sheet music?”
“Got it, captain!” He picked up four folders from his snare drum and held them out for the group to grab. Each one was labeled for its respective band member. Grateful for the distraction Marjorine grabbed the one with her name sprawled across the top.
They had been invited by Wendy– the class president– to perform at the last rally before senior break under the one stipulation that it be holly, jolly, and festive. Trying to ignore her holiday anxieties, Marjorine flipped open the folder. It was a medley comprised of Silent Night, Sevivon Sov Sov Sov, Sleigh Ride, Last Christmas, and Let It Snow. Reading it on paper, Marjorine’s hopes weren’t high. But she trusted Jimmy and Stan’s composition skills.
“Take it from the top,” Stan motioned as he began hooking up the mic stand in the center of the room.
–
“Need a ride?” Kenny asked as they walked down the path in front of Jimmy’s house.
“I think the air’ll do me good tonight,” Marjorine shook her head, “thanks, though.”
“You sure about it?” He eyed her briefly, “well, text me when you get home.”
Marjorine gave him a light smile before breaking off.
As tempting as it was to take Kenny up on the offer and escape the biting cold that encompassed the exposed parts of her body, Marjorine needed thinking time. Sniffling slightly, her red nose running from the frigid air, she hugged her arms around her body and began making her way down the sidewalk. It was a blessing on nights like these that she left her instrument at Jimmy’s house, she wasn’t sure if she’d survive the cold if one hand was occupied with the heavy case held at her side.
Inhaling deeply, Marjorine looked up at the vast winter sky. The stars were only beginning to pop out, illuminating the deep blues of the galaxy with gentle freckles of paint. They reminded her of Kyle in a way, an inverse of the freckles that dusted his skin. She wondered if she could configure that comparison into a gift. Maybe tickets to the observatory?
No.
Not good enough.
Exhaling through her mouth, she distracted herself with the sight of her breath clouding into the thin air. Maybe she would have to ask Stan, lest she risk getting him something he already owned. But that felt insincere– like a cheat. In order for it to be a proper gift, it must come from the heart.
So what, then?
Now that there was a need for something personal, Marjorine was realizing just how little she really knew about her boyfriend.
There were the large parts of his character, he was smart, played basketball, loved his family (despite the flaws), was passionate, -
But nothing was…
Inspiring?
Better yet, she couldn’t find a way to capture all the little intricacies of Kyle’s character to package into something that would show him just how truly she cared and admired every last bit of him.
Frustrated with her intellectual inadequacies, Marjorine hugged herself tighter and pointed her gaze downward. Winter left much of South Park in a monotonous grey. The polluted snow blurred into the ashy asphalt, which mirrored perfectly the clouded skies that rarely parted to show glimpses of stars at night or distant blue in the days.
Her shoes also provided color to the desolate scape of her vision. Standing out against the brownish slush of melting snow were her aged yellow Doc Martins. They were a gift from Kenny– who had scored them from a thrift shop in Denver but found them to be slightly too large upon trying them on at home.
Absentmindedly, she kicked at a rock that made the poor mistake of lying in her path. It bounced listlessly before planting itself in a notably brown pile of mush. Marjorine allowed another deep breath to bite at her lungs. Her toes were beginning to numb, coldness gently seeping through the futile armor of her clothes. Trusting the muscle memory in her legs, Marjorine let her eyes slide shut. To combat the freeze of winter, she allowed the warmth of Kyle to take over her mind. Visualizations and memories plastered across the back of her eyelids. She performed this sort of distraction often, disconnecting from a monotonous task by retreating into her mind palace. This particular instance had more purpose, she hoped that– maybe– if she thought about Kyle enough then an idea would simply present itself. Maybe even an inkling of a clue for what might gleam in his eyes.
She hated feeling so clueless, floundering in the sea of ideas that couldn’t quite meet the near-impossible standard she procured for the season of giving. Tightness twisted in her chest, warm frustration fighting off the cold in her bones. It was a disorienting sensation, but at the very least it kept her from shivering.
A buzz from her pocket jolted her back to the present in time to realize she had almost passed her house entirely. Shaking off the jolt of surprise at how deeply she had spaced out, Marjorine back-tracked to the pathway and jogged up to the front door. With numb fingers she fished her keys from the depths of her pockets. Keeping her movements as quiet as possible (if her parents were asleep she’d prefer to keep it that way and if they were awake she wished to avoid conversation), Marjorine unlocked the door and pushed it open as she stepped inside. She was sure to stomp the snow off her boots on the doormat before tracking any wetness inside.
The kitchen light was the only source illuminating downstairs, it’s tired glow just barely reaching into the living room and the farther reaches. At such an indicator of her parents daily retirement, Marjorine let out a soft exhale of relief.
Maybe she could bounce ideas off of the others at school tomorrow.
–
“I’m thinkin’ maybe an experience of sorts,” Marjorine commented, wringing her hands together, “I don’t wanna get him somethin’ he’s already got, y’know?”
“Why don’t you take him to one of those winter festivals? The one on the fairgrounds is six a person,” Kenny suggested. He was leaning against the brick wall outside the school, taking deep breaths and exhaling to watch his breath float into the bleary sky.
“Six bucks?!” Cartman exclaimed, scrunching his red nose, “bullshit.”
“Puh-proceeds go to the community,” Jimmy noted, “I took Nance there just last wee- weheek.”
“You spent twelve dollars to walk through lawn decorations and paper cutouts?” Cartman clarified with bewilderment.
“It’s about the experience,” Jimmy argued, “the holiday juh- joy.”
Cartman squinted his eyes, a sparkle of a plan gleaming. Muttering to himself, he shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled off.
“Don’t do anything batshit!” Kenny called after him, earning a chubby middle finger.
“Just write him a song or something,” Stan spoke up, kicking a pinecone, “you can perform it at the rally or something.” He shrugged noncommittedly.
“Or something,” Jimmy mocked. Kenny lightly elbowed his shoulder.
“Not a bad idea,” Kenny nodded, looking upward as if visualizing the concept. “if you can get Wendy in on it,” he looked back at Stan.
“She likes lovey stuff,” Stan shrugged again, “but if Marjorine just… takes the mic it’s not like she can cut the power.”
“A song?” Marjorine picked at her cuticle, “gee, that sounds like a lot.”
“Oh c’mon, as if you haven’t written before,” Kenny rolled his eyes.
“It’s different to serenade,” Marjorine argued, “n’ in front of the whole school at that?”
“Just an idea,” Stan iterated, “I think Kyle’d like it but it’s your gift.”
“Like what?” Kyle walked up, folder in his hands from the leadership meeting he’d just got out of.
“Nothing!” Marjorine was quick to cover up.
“Holiday stuff,” Kenny covered up, “no spoilers!”
Kyle narrowed his eyes briefly before shrugging off any curiosity he had toward the situation. Before any awkwardness had a chance to settle, Marjorine closed the distance between Kyle and looped her arms around his.
“How was the meetin’?”
He groaned, and Marjorine was grateful for how easy it was to shift the entire course of his mind by providing him a space to rant about whatever injustice was currently plaguing the leadership team.
With Marjorine’s mind wandering to the logistics of writing a song as a gift, Kyle began his tirade.
–
“How’s this?” Marjorine was sitting crisscrossed on the floor of Stan’s bedroom. They were meant to be studying together for their shared history class, finals were quickly approaching and the stress was beginning to dawn on them, but schoolwork was forgotten quickly once Stan mentioned the song Marjorine was meant to be writing.
Shimmying her shoulders to adjust a proper singing posture, Marjorine took a deep breath and ran through what they had down so far. It had been a few days since Stan first proposed Marjorine write the gift. She’d spent hours thinking about the message she hoped to convey with her lyrics, eventually deciding on a song that referenced various moments in their relationship and how Marjorine felt during them. Stan helped with the poeticness, but the skeleton of the song came directly from her heart.
Immediately following the last note, Stan began clapping.
“Dude, he’s gonna love it.”
“You think?” Marjorine beamed.
“One hundred percent,” Stan crossed his arms and nodded, sure of himself. He was probably proud of his own lyrical contributions more than anything, “you’ll blow his gift out the water.”
“It’s no competition!” Marjorine exclaimed, hiding the excited blush painting her cheeks behind a calloused hand, “I just hope it makes him happy.”
Sparky jumped off Stan’s bed and nuzzled his way under Marjorine’s free arm.
“No way it doesn’t,” assured Stan as he slid off the bed to head towards the desk against the wall, “he might get pissy for the attention on him but he’ll like it.”
“Oh, I didn’t think of that,” Marjorine blinked, her hand stilling on Sparky’s spikey fur. The last thing she’d want would be to cause Kyle discomfort in front of the entire school, “maybe we sh-”
“At-” Stan held up a finger, halting that line of thought, “you’re committed, no backing out. And plu-”
Thunk
Stan blinked, looking toward his window.
“And plus-”
Clank
Marjorine looked towards the window as well.
“STAAAAAN!” A grating voice called, “STAN I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE I HAVE YOUR LOCATION!”
“What the fuck,” he mumbled under his breath before pushing up the window and sticking his head out, “WHAT THE HELL, CARTMAN?”
“CAN I HAVE SOME OF YOUR DADS EXTENSION CORDS?”
Confusion twisted Marjorine’s expression, even Sparky tilting his head in curiosity.
“THE FUCK DO YOU NEED THEM FOR?” Stan rightfully questioned.
“GOD, STOP BEING A PANSY AND JUST UNLOCK YOUR GARAGE OR SOMETHING.”
Stan scoffed, but as everyone knew it was easier to just go with whatever stupid shenanigan Cartman was divulging in. Typically they backfired, anyway.
So, muttering about how he wasn’t a pansy, Stan slammed his window shut and headed toward his door, “I’ll be right back.”
Before Marjorine’s mind had a chance to supply possibilities for what Cartman could possibly need extension chords for, Sparky let out a whine and forced himself further onto her lap.
—
The last day before Christmas break came quickly, the days passing in a haze of studying and rehearsals. Finals were finally over, and the air within the classrooms was abuzz with varying levels of extreme excitement. Anticipation was thick in everyone’s movements, the countdown to winter break nearing completion.
Kyle’s song had been finalized the previous week. Kenny and Jimmy both gave their personal inputs, and it was at a point where Marjorine felt sincerely confident in the production.
“Don’t forget to tape down the chords!” Kenny called out from next to the sound guy.
“On it!” Stan shot him a thumbs up.
They were called out of class early alongside the rest of the rally’s helpers to set up for their performance. On the itinerary was the Star Spangled Banner, a brief opening from Wendy, their medley, and then a surprise concert of Marjorines song to Kyle. Everything that followed was irrelevant to the band.
Nerves tickled her skin from the inside, anxiousness turning over in her stomach as shaking hands fidgeted with her guitar. It was far from her first time performing in front of a large audience, but this time felt so much more… important.
“You’re gonna do great, Muh- Marjorine,” Jimmy assured from the drum set, the sudden address halting her hands from their fidgetting.
“Thanks, Jim,” she gave him a light smile before taking a deep breath.
Right.
This was easy, they practiced her song for Kyle alongside the medley every rehearsal. She had every note and word committed to heart. There was no way to screw this up.
“Cartman!” Wendy’s voice called out, “you’re not supposed to be in here!”
Marjorine looked over in time to see Wendy ushering Cartman out of the gymnasium.
She shared a look with Jimmy, who shrugged the display off as just Cartman and something to be expected given his character.
“Let’s run our sound check,” Stan clapped his hands together.
Grateful for the distraction, Marjorine adjusted the strap of her guitar on her shoulder, getting the instrument in a comfortable position for her to play.
“You ready?” Stan addressed her.
Biting the inside of her lower cheek, Marjorine steeled herself and nodded.
–
“Hello Cows!” Wendy spoke into the shitty microphone, her shrill voice echoing out of the scratchy speakers and filling the vast space with her words. The crowd was roaring, their high school was decently populated which left all the bleachers packed tightly together, “before we kick off the rally, please stand for our national anthem, played by our very own Crimson Dawn!”
The students cheered as Jimmy counted them off.
“Ooh say can…” Stan and Marjorine were duetting it, they had found a decent arrangement online and tweaked a few spots for their own personal tastes. Despite Jimmy’s desire for a protest piece, they kept it respectful to the original.
“O’er the land of the free,” they held out the note, a few students whooped and hollered, “and the home of the brave.”
During the last few lines Marjorine scanned the senior section for Kyle. He usually sat up front, not having a taste for the high energy of rallys. True to his nature, Kyle was up front with his arms folded across his chest and sitting next to Craig (who appeared similarly disinterested).
Once they closed off the last note and Jimmy took a little drum solo, the gym erupted into cheering. The four gave each other congratulatory looks while the coordinators began simmering down the people.
Once the volume was at a manageable level, Wendy spoke up once more.
“And now, welcome back Crimson Dawn for a specially composed Holiday Medley!”
After a few seconds of basking in the warm welcome, glanced back at Jimmy to count them off.
It was muscle memory at that point, Marjorine didn’t even process the fact that she was performing with how occupied her mind was with Kyle and anything that could possibly go wrong during the song. It made her mouth dry and throat tight, both truly unfortunate sensations to be going through as a backup singer; but she persevered.
Once the song ended, Wendy began speaking again
“Thank you, Cr-”
“Actually, we have one more surprise,” Stan interrupted, returning Wendy’s confused glare with an innocent smile.
Suddenly aware of how hard her heart was thumping in her chest, how loud her blood roared in her ears, how sweaty her hands that held her guitar were, how shaky her calloused fingers were, how-
“Marj!” Kenny whisper-yelled, “snap out of it, you got this.”
Blinking back into focus, Marjorine nodded and reached for the closest mic.
“This-” her voice wavered and cracked. Feeling her flush intensify, Marjorine cleared her throat and tried again, her eyes locking with Kyle, “this is a song I wrote for-”
Suddenly the gym went black and the mic stopped picking up Marjorine’s voice. A few people screamed, the leadership on the floor were glancing around– trying to find a quick explanation for what could have possibly happened to cut the power.
“ATTENTION!” A voice blared. It sounded like it was coming from outside.
Still stunned from the sudden turn of events, Marjorine stood dumbfounded while a few people took the initiative to rush for the doors.
“No one cares about indoor rallies anymore, so I made-”
“CartMAAAAAN!” Wendy screamed, her eyes following a series of chords leading to the box that powered the gym.
“Not now, Wendy– I made a winter fair, 10 dollars at the ticket stand, cash or Venmo.”
“You can’t do this, jackass!” Wendy fumed, her shoulders tense with anger.
Marjorine was still staring forward, despite the majority of students having abandoned the gym in curiosity of whatever Cartman offered.
A hand lightly squeezed Marjorine’s shoulder, lingering there, “sorry, Marj.” Kenny spoke, his voice barely legible over the roar of people.
Marjorine blinked, suddenly feeling the wetness in her eyes spread to her cheeks.
“That’s it?” Her voice cracked.
Kenny clicked his tongue.
“What a douchebag,” Jimmy frowned.
Suddenly overwhelmed, Marjorine shrugged off Kenny and hurried to the gym doors that led into the deeper parts of the school. As swell as fresh air sounded, she wasn’t sure she could stomach seeing whatever display Cartman had conjured up out there.
The lack of stage fright left her chest feeling full of nothing, tight yet loose and entirely unpleasant. In hopes of combatting that strangely oppressive sensation, Marjorine folded her arms tightly over her chest as she beelined toward the choir practice room. Usually, one was left unlocked, so with her hopes high, she tried the door handle.
Turning the cool metal, Marjorine leaned into the door. Stubbornly, it remained shut.
That being her last straw, Marjorine cried out in frustration and turned to lean her back against the door.
Now she had nothing to gift Kyle.
Nothing to show her appreciation.
Nothing to make the holidays perfect.
In hindsight, she should have taken the time to formulate a backup plan, it was South Park for chrissakes, everything seemed to go against her favor regardless of circumstance.
She was doomed always.
“Marjorine, what happened?”
Looking up from the floor where she had wound up, Marjorine made eye contact with Kyle.
It twisted her chest to see him, especially knowing how royally she had fucked everything up.
“I’m sorry Kyle,” she kept her voice as steady as possible, roughly wiping at her eyes, “I- That was meant to be my gift for ya… I wrote a song n-”
Something caught in her throat, and thought she attempted to dislodge it the pressure only rendered her speechless.
“Sorry,” she managed to squawk.
Kyle stood there silently for a second before moving to sit down next to Marjorine.
“Cartman is a stupid fat ass,” he declared, looking straight ahead, “he is a stupid fat ass that isn’t going to ruin your gift.”
“But-”
“It’s a song, right?” Kyle asked for clarification while his hand sought out hers.
“Well, yeah, but the symbolism and stuff,” she closed her fingers around Kyles.
“Next show you can sing it for me,” he decided with a firm nod.
“But you hate garage shows?”
“I love you more.”
Warmth melted the icy sadness that had taken over Marjorine’s heart from the despairing situation.
“Really?”
Kyle turned to look at her, smiling softly in assurance.
“There is no way I’m letting that asshole take this away from us.”
“Awh, thank you an awful lot,” Marjorine smiled, her eyes welling for an entirely different reason.
Forgoing words, Kyle smiled at her warmly before leaning forward to plant a gentle kiss on her hairline.
Marjorine leaned into him, sniffling slightly as the corner of her lips turned upward in a content expression.
“Happy Holidays, Marj,” he spoke softly, the sharpness of his voice breaking through at select syllables.
Distantly the sounds of Cartman’s winter fair seeped through the school’s walls, barely perceptible. There was a variety of emotion in the yells, cheering, anger, frustration– Wendy’s voice of protest was the most notable. But despite the irritating origin of the fair, how much Marjorine should despise everything to do with it; she couldn’t help but find a little comfort in the distance of it all.
They were away from the chaos, seeled away in a moment that was saved for them to share in the privacy of the little-loved music hall.
Taking a deep breath, Marjorine leaned deeper into Kyle and let her eyes slide shut. The school heater was working overtime, but even so the majority of warmth she could savor came directly from Kyle’s body.
“Happy Holidays, Ky,” she returned finally, “love ya.”