Chapter Text
Two glasses sweat atop the Old-Fashioned style wooden table, one a half-filled sweet iced tea, the other a watered-down soft drink, a ring of water surrounding it as it hadn’t been moved since it was set down. It was yet another date night where Wendy was looking her best, sitting by herself. She began to feel silly, as she’d gotten dolled-up in her favorite outfit, even waiting to get her hair cut until today so it would look a little less messy for the date, just to ultimately look incredibly divergent. Wendy wondered if the staff or other patrons in the diner thought she was being stood up, but then again, she had always told herself to not worry about what other people thought.
The waiter who seated her came by, asking if she needed anything, she politely responded by telling them that she was waiting on someone, and not to worry. They smiled before walking away to tend to another table. She sat alone in a booth, trying not to stare out the window into the parking lot for Stan to arrive, she couldn’t let herself look THAT desperate. Instead, Wendy opted to take her phone out to use as a mirror to touch up her makeup, as the glittery gloss on her lips began to smudge from drinking her sweet tea. She sighed to herself, dropping her hands into her lap and leaned backwards. She gazed into the growing darkness, the sunset fading into blues and purples as the sun crept down. The reflected light from inside the restaurant leaving a contrast into the dark. She checked her phone, it was nearing an hour since she’d arrived, and 45 minutes since Stan was supposed to be there.
She began putting her things back into her handbag, just as she saw a familiar white, beat-up pickup peel into the parking lot. She looked on, hopefully. Out stepped a recently showered Stan, in far more casual clothes, staggering towards the front doors. She set her bag back down, clasping her hands together atop the table, trying not to feel absolutely horrible that she was about to walk out. Stan skimmed the restaurant for any sign of her, then quickly noticing her and sitting down across from her. She put on a fake smile, he returned it, sheepishly.
“Hey, I—uh… I overslept. Sorry,” Stan apologized, brushing the wet hair out of his face.
“It’s alright, it’s not as long as it could have been. I ordered you a drink, but it’s probably watered down by now,” Wendy said, her tone deflating as she spoke; no matter how she tried to hide it, she still felt completely rejected. Stan’s face shifted into that of a slight offense.
“Look, I didn’t mean to blow you off. You don’t have to say it like that,” Stan miffed.
“I know, I know. But it felt like you did,” She tried to shoot down any opening for an argument. “I’m allowed to be upset, Stan.”
“Well I’m here now, right?”
“That’s not the point…“ Wendy started, Stan exhaled, causing her to trail off. He leaned back into his seat, his face looking disinterested.
“… the point is you were late. Again,” she continued.
“I’m sorry.”
“Can you at least tell me why?”
“I did. I overslept.”
“Why did you oversleep? How?”
“I…” Stan started, his face looking slightly unsure, “I was up most of the night. I didn’t realize what time it was.”
Wendy’s face dropped, disappointedly, “We’ve had this planned for two weeks, though. It’s all I’ve talked about. We haven’t had a date in months.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Couldn’t you be less careless?”
Stan sighed, “Yeah. I’ll be less careless.”
The waiter from earlier appeared again, they met them both with a smile, before picking up on the mood as they took their orders. They jotted everything down and hurried back into the kitchen. The two of them remained silent until their food arrived, which resulted in more silence as they ate. Wendy tried to lighten the mood, and began fiddling with her hair.
“Do you like it?” She asked, her tone light and expectant. Stan looked up at her, confused.
“Huh?”
She smiled patiently, emphasizing on her long, black hair. Stan looked at it, still not knowing.
“What?”
Wendy’s face gloomed, “I cut my hair.”
“Oh.”
It was a noticeable difference, she thought. It was once to her mid back, she took off a few inches. She thought it was cute, but she wished she’d gone shorter. Stan paid no mind to her and kept eating, which caused something inside of her to boil over. “Are you serious?”
Her change in tone caught Stan off guard, his face in shock.
“What?” Stan asked.
“I spent 50-fucking-dollars on my hair, an hour and a half getting ready, spent almost an hour waiting on you, just for you to dismiss me like a prick? Are you kidding me right now?” Her eyebrows knit together in absolute disbelief and incredulity. Stan’s jaw hung open slightly, he looked around, desperate for a way out of the conversation. Her change in tone was enough to catch a few people’s attention.
“I told you I was sorry,” he muttered.
“It’s more than that. It’s so much more than that. The last few times we went out together it was the same bullshit. You were late, acted like a baby when I was rightfully upset with you, and tried to flip it onto me like I was the bad guy! What the hell, Stan?”
“Look, don’t-“
“Don’t what? Don’t get hysterical?” She referenced.
“Oh come on, you know what I meant when I said that-“
“Oh, I know damn well what you meant when you said that, do you?”
“Babe-“
“Don’t. Just fucking don’t. I’m done,” She fished around in her bag and slammed a $50 bill onto the table, and stood. She tossed her bag over her shoulder and began briskly walking out. Stan called after her, only to soon realize that she was nearing the door. He rushed to catch up, finally meeting her at her car.
“Wendy!”
“Fuck off, Stan!” She shouted, digging around in her bag for her car keys. Stan tried to explain himself, clearly panicked. She cut him off, “Go! Leave me alone!”
He realized he was getting nowhere, and started getting agitated.
“Will you just fucking listen to me?”
“No! Go away!”
“I’ll make it up to you!”
“For this time? Or all the other times?”
“Yes— no! I mean… uh…”
“Well?” She turned to look at him, her hands on her hips.
“Why don’t we do something this weekend?”
“Oh, so it’s a do-over?” she humored him sarcastically.
“It’s not like that, I just…” he paused. “Look, I lied. I didn’t oversleep,” his tone grew somber. Wendy stared on, listening intently. “I got into another argument with my dad. That’s why I was late.”
Wendy’s glare softened as she removed her hands from her hips, “What was it about?”
“I… I don’t wanna talk about it right now. He just kept coming at me, y’know? And, I mean, I can’t just walk out—I wanted to, y’know, but I…” he trailed off as Wendy wrapped her arms around his torso, resting her forehead on his shoulder. Stan hesitated slightly, then hugged her back, his cheek resting atop her head.
“I’m sorry,” She stated, guilt washing over her. She thought she could cry, feeling terrible that she contemplated even walking out originally. All of her past emotions washed away; she hated that.
“It’s okay,” Stan replied.
“No, Stan, I was about to walk out before you got here. I feel like the worst right now.”
“Hey, I would’ve if I were you,” He pulled away, looking down at her, half-smiling. She looked up at him, a smile dancing at her lips. Stan let go of her, but she looked on, expectantly. He picked up on it, and awkwardly kissed her on the cheek.
“We can go do something now, if you want,” Stan stated, stepping back.
Wendy smiled, “Sure.”
The two walked the town together, talking and laughing as the blues and purples faded into a rich black. They weren’t really looking for anything to do, more so indulging in each other. They eventually stopped at the old park in the middle of town, as it was nearing the winter season and all the trees and bushes were decorated with yellowy string lights. They sat at the swings, still chatting on and on. Eventually, the conversation drifted off, the two were quiet again; a comfortable quiet.
“I’ve missed these lights,” Wendy stated, entranced by the yellow glow coming from the shrubs and trees.
“Me too. Winterfest is so sweet,” Stan replied.
“Nah, more in general. Winter’s my favorite time of year.”
“Yeah, I know,” He replied, smiling at her.
She met his eyes, beaming. “You always liked the fall.”
“Eh, yes and no. I like the summertime, too. I like my band tees.”
Wendy giggled, “Believe me, I’m well aware.”
“Hey, if I couldn’t wear my ratty-ass band tees with pride, I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”
“Why don’t you get new ones?”
“Because then I’d have to break ‘em in all over again. They have no charm straight out of the bag.”
“That’s true,” She looked on, her eyes always migrating back towards the lights.
“I should get you some,” Stan commented.
“I have a few.”
“Yeah, and only a few is too little.”
“Hey now, I’m perfectly fine with my Mitski shirts.”
“Yeah, but you’ve gotta expand your horizons at least a little.”
“And listen to your metal stuff?”
Stan shrugged, “If you want.”
“No thanks, all the screaming is a little too much for me.”
“Not all of it is screaming. There’s something for everyone in the metal scene, y’know,” Stan looked towards the lights. “I can think of a few bands you’d like. And some are more rock than metal.”
Wendy looked over at him, “I’ll think about it,” she smiled, softly. Stan looked back at her, beaming.
The two of them eventually made it back to the parking lot of the diner they ate at. They said and hugged their goodbyes, before separating once again to drive home. Wendy made it back a little after ten. She did the best that she could to avoid her parents, but were bombarded as soon as she began creeping up the stairs.
“Wendy!” Her father shouted. She winced before walking back downstairs.
“I know, I know…” she mumbled.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“10:07?”
“What time were you supposed to be home?”
“Ten,” She replied, her eyes to the carpet as her parents stepped closer.
The lecture started, most of it Wendy tuned out but nodded along and responded when necessary. They went on and on about how disrespectful it was to disobey your parents, how hard they worked for her, and how many expectations she had. She could barely get a word in. Eventually, it shifted more into accusations: where was she? Why didn’t she get back sooner? What was she doing with Stan? Many of which were very untrue, and she made sure to say as such.
Finally, she made it back upstairs and wound down. She crawled into bed, gazing blankly into the darkness. She eventually made it back to reality, her eyes focusing on a rabbit plushie Stan had gotten her for Valentine’s Day a couple years back. She grabbed it, bringing it to her chest. She closed her eyes, drifting drifting off into sleep as she stroked the artificial fur. Thinking about the night she had with Stan made it all worth it.
Her alarm blared next to her head. Wendy’s eyes slowly peeled open, a grimace on her face due to the rude awakening. She reached around for it blindly, eventually turning it off. She sat up, stretching her arms above her head until hearing a satisfying pop, then dropping them haphazardly with a sigh. Her eyes opened again, she saw the plushie had been tossed to the floor in her sleep, which made her feel oddly upset about it being discarded. She picked it up, bringing it back into her chest to hug it tightly.
“Sorry,” she whispered, her nose buried into the plush. She held it for a few more seconds, then kissed it’s head and set it to the side of her. She crawled out of bed to dress for school.
Driving to school, she passed the school bus, seeing Stan in one of the isles sitting with his friend Kenny. Wendy didn’t mind Kenny much, as he was generally pleasant the few times he spoke to her. She’d always wondered what exactly happened to Stan’s friend group, more specifically, his old best friend Kyle. Kyle had a pretty solid head on his shoulders, considering the chaos that the four of them had indulged in when they hung out. For whatever reason, Stan and Kyle just… stopped talking. Stan never got into why. She would see Kyle around in the hallways, at the overlapping practice days between the basketball and cheer team sharing the gymnasium, at the games, even having a few classes together, but never speaking to one another. They acknowledged each other with a pleasant nod or smile when they did lock eyes, though. Eric Cartman, however, was the complete opposite. He was an absolute prick to her every time he saw her, Wendy tried to ignore him for the most part, but every now and again she’d snap back at him.
The ride was rickety, but eventually she pulled into the parking lot, unloaded and headed inside. Wendy had gone by Stan’s locker, stopping to chat for a little while before the 5-minute bell had gone off, which was really her telling him how much fun she had last night and him nodding along. She hugged him goodbye and headed to her class.
Class was boring, not much to note other than what she already knew. She fiddled with her pencil, half-listening. She felt a tap on her shoulder: Bebe slid her a note.
How was it??, it read. Wendy looked in her direction, and scribbled back.
It was actually really nice :) I had a lot of fun. We walked the town after eating and hung out at the old park.
Ooooh ;) ‘fun,’ Bebe wrote back. Wendy skimmed over it, and rolled her eyes.
No, not THAT kind of ‘fun’ >:( he and I aren’t ready for that.
What??? You two have been off and on together so many times for years and still not ONCE scored with him??
No!! Why would we??
Idk girl u do u!!
Wendy scoffed, sliding the paper back in her direction. Bebe had one of her curls twisted around her finger, toying with it as she eyed her quizzically. Wendy rolled her eyes at her, going back to playing with her pencil, as she had nothing more she wanted to say to her.
Her next few classes were relatively uneventful. For some reason, her short conversation with Bebe popped in and out of her mind. The more that she thought about it, the more she wondered why after all these years, she and Stan were still barely able to be touchy. It wasn’t like she’d wanted any of the things Bebe was implying, but she did often crave being close to him, even with little romantic gestures and affection.
Maybe he’s just not that kind of guy, she thought to herself. Then again, he was always comfortable with Kenny being affectionate with him. Though, Kenny did that with everyone. Not necessarily romantically, but always had a hand or arm around someone if they were close. Maybe she was just thinking into it too much.
Lunch rolled around eventually. She’d seen Stan sitting with Eric Cartman, Kenny, and a few others she had only ever really been acquainted with. She sat with her usual circle.
“Sooo, how was the date last night?” Nicole asked, excitedly.
“Oh, it was really great! We ate and went walking for a while. Hung around the park until I had to go home,” Wendy answered, in between bites of her food.
“I bet he was late again, wasn’t he?” Lola piped in, light brown hair in her fist. A few of the girls laughing along. Wendy rolled her eyes at her.
“Look, it was just a little bit. It doesn’t matter, because it’s none of your business. It was the first time in months that we actually did something together.”
“What was his excuse this time? Truck broke down? Traffic?” Bebe interrupted with a smirk.
“Oh, come on, you guys. I had fun, that’s all that matters,” Wendy huffed. She remained out of the conversation until she finished eating, and eventually, the inquiries about her relationship died down. She dumped her tray and waited for the bell to dismiss the lunchroom.
The rest of her day crawled by, a few new assignments were the only things that she really needed to worry about. The dismissal bell finally rang, and she was headed for the gymnasium.
All 23 members of the cheer team clamored around inside their respective locker room, laughing and cracking jokes as they all dressed for practice. Many were complaining about having to share a gym with the boys, a few not so much.
“Honestly, I don’t really mind it. Guys look funny when they run,” Red piped up for the first time in a few minutes, a few of the girls giggling.
“Oh yeah, I love watching that Kyle kid run,” Bebe commented, smirking.
“Girl, you and Kyle!” Nicole interjected.
“What? I’d stare at him run all day,” she laughed.
“Yeah, stare at his ass,” Another girl commented. The locker room erupted in laughter and banter again as Bebe’s cheeks grew red, loud enough that their coach had walked in to scold them for not getting ready.
They all hurried out to the mat for role call, starting with stretches and drills. Occasionally, one of the guys on the other side of the gym would banter them, mostly Wendy as she was cheer captain, making loud cooing noises at her and just generally being an ass. Wendy had overheard someone pipe up to get him to he quiet: it was Kyle.
“Dude, shut the fuck up,” He’d commented, not too loud, but enough for anyone to hear in dead silence. The kid gave an offended look, gesturing his hands wildly. Kyle repeated himself.
“Shut up. Don’t make this worse for all of us. She’s over there minding her own business and here you are…”
The coaches booming voice interrupted Kyle, getting onto the kid for being a pest, and Kyle for his language. Many of the girls and all of the guys laughed as the nuisance was told to run more suicides. He tripped over his own feet, the guys on the sideline pointed and mocked him, which resulted in all of them joining him. Wendy could tell that they were all pissed, and that kid likely wouldn’t hear the end of it when practice was over. She felt somewhat relieved that at least one of the guys said something in her defense.
Eventually, practice was over. Each team was responsible for cleaning up anything they used to practice with. Lots of the girls were pushing it off, saying that the guys should clean up because of the kid. Lots of the guys, including the antagonist, argued with them back and forth. Finally, everything was taken care of and each group retreated back into their locker rooms.
“You fucking dickhead, Tyler! You had to run your mouth and it bit us all in the ass!” Tolkien didn’t hesitate to say as soon as the group was out of earshot of their coach.
“What? It was just a joke,” the kid mumbled between breaths.
“No, what was a joke was watching you eat shit,” Kyle interjected. A few of them laughed, the kid got red in the face. He tore his shoes off and marched over to Kyle.
“That’s not fucking funny!”
“Yeah it was. And it still is,” Kyle pointed in his face and forced an obnoxious laugh. Tyler’s face got redder in embarrassment.
“You’d better stop! It almost makes me think you’re banging that chick!”
Many of the guys ‘Ooh’d’ and ‘aww’d’ after hearing that, most ironically.
“Dude, what?”
“Yeah. You mad that I joked with your girly-friend?”
“Who, Wendy?”
“Yup.”
“No?” Kyle stated, taken aback.
“You’re not getting into her pants, man,” The kid eventually stepped back, arms raised. Kyle scoffed at him, turning back to grab his clothes from his locker to shower and dress.
“I wouldn’t need to laugh at you falling on your face to grab a girl’s attention, you fucking degenerate,” He stated, his back turned as he fished around in his backpack. “Besides, I don’t want her. She’s still running back over to Stan Marsh after so many years,” he turned back around, clothes in hand.
“Nah, you’re jealous. I can see it on you,” The kid stepped closer again, his finger in Kyle’s face as a taunting grin plastered on his face. Kyle started to get pissed.
“Get outta my way, I can smell your swamp-ass from up here,” He gestured to the height difference between them, a few other guys who were still paying attention had chuckled. The kid huffed and went about his business, which finally granted Kyle enough room to walk past him towards the showers.
The piercing cold compared to the showers’ steam was brutal, even for Kyle. His thick, wet hair was no help, either. He said his goodbyes to Tolkien, leaving it at a dap before heading home. He looked both ways down the street, then headed down the crosswalk. The condensation from his breath left streaks out of his nose like some mythical creature, it may have only been a few days into November, but damn if it wasn’t already cold. Kyle hurried along, his legs killing him from running; fucking dickhead Tyler.
He’d barely made it about a fourth of the way down the first block before he’d heard a car roll up beside him.
Oh, great. What do you want now, asshole? he thought to himself, expecting to see that kid again. He looked over his shoulder and saw Wendy’s car. He stopped walking as she rolled up.
“Do you want a ride?” She asked, leaning out of her window.
“Uh…” He started, “I… sure.”
He hopped into her passenger seat, the heater on full blast was not a pleasant shift from the cold. Kyle didn’t say anything about it as he set his bag in his lap.
“Thanks for standing up for me,” She started, her eyes focused on the road.
“What? Oh—that wasn’t anything. I just hate when that douchebag runs his mouth.”
Wendy chuckled at that, “Yeah. But still, you were the only one who said anything in my defense.”
“Oh, please. Acknowledging when someone is acting like a prick isn’t standing up for someone,” he paused. “Is that why you offered me a ride?” Kyle cocked an eyebrow, turning his head in Wendy’s direction.
“Ehh.. yes and no. You looked like you were shivering.”
“Were you following me or some shit?” Kyle laughed.
“No! I didn’t mean it like that—y’know what, you can get out,” Wendy joked.
“No!” Kyle responded, catching her tone.
“Well, then don’t get all stalker-y on me!”
“That’s ironic, because you were following me.”
“I was not following you! I happened to be going in the same direction as you were.”
“Right. Stalking me.”
“Ugh!” Wendy ended, rolling her eyes.
The two of them continued down the road, making a left turn and finally stopping in front of Kyle’s house.
“You still live here, right?” She asked, turning in his direction.
“I’m clearly getting out of your car, aren’t I?” He replied, unbuckling his seat belt and reaching for the door.
“Y’know what? No more rides for you,” She stated, half-smiling.
“I didn’t need it in the first place, but thanks anyways,” He stepped out, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. He leaned down again, eye level with her.
“Thank you,” he stated, an appreciative smile dancing at his lips. “Now quit following me home.”
“Just go!” She laughed. “You’re welcome.”
He shut the door, and walked up his driveway. Kyle watched as Wendy drove off until her car disappeared down the street.
She’d finally made it home, tearing her shoes off and nearly collapsing on the couch in relief. She’d almost forgotten how strenuous practice could be, even after she had to quit volleyball due to a rather serious injury she got. She’d been sitting for maybe a few minutes before her father walked into the living room, annoyed.
“Wendy, don’t you have homework to do? Laying on the couch isn’t going to get anything done.”
Wendy turned to look at him, tired and confused, “Dad, I just got home! I was at practice!” She explained, gesturing to her drawstring bag with her things inside it. Her father waved his hand in dismissal.
“Don’t you understand that you need to work hard? Seriously! I pay good money to keep you in cheer, and I don’t want to hear you start complaining about it now! Do you think I’ve forgotten about that stunt you pulled to get out of volleyball?”
“Dad, I got hurt, I had to quit! It was just too much-“
“Don’t you start raising your voice at me, do you hear me, missy?” he interrupted.
Wendy exhaled, “Yes, sir,” her tone flattened.
He ranted on about how schoolwork was important, gestured to her chores, made broad assumptions about her work ethic, most she tuned out again. She stood, stumbling over herself as she walked up the stairs, bags in hand. She flopped onto her bed, her legs aching. She waited a couple of minutes until she felt the ache die a little before opening her laptop to get to work.
About an hour later, she got a text. It was from Stan.
Call?
Wendy felt slightly giddy hearing from him, he usually wasn’t one to text or call. She began typing.
Hey!! I wouldn’t mind at all, just give me a little bit to finish my hw and I’ll call u! Love u ❤️
She waited until she saw the ‘read’ sign popped up, followed by a “thumbs up” reaction to her message. She smiled to herself, hurrying to finish her work quickly.
She finally finished, excited as she scrolled through her messages to send him a quick text, before calling him. It rang twice before he answered.
“Hey, how’s it going?” She asked, her tone elevated and happy.
“Hey, uh… did you give Kyle a ride today?” Stan asked, sounding as though he was masking an unpleasant tone. Wendy didn’t notice it.
“Yeah, I did. We had a joint practice day, y’know where the cheer team and the basketball team shares the gym? I saw him walking home and asked him if he wanted a ride. Why?”
“Uh… why the fuck did you do that? You know I don’t talk to him anymore,” Stan’s voice started to sound agitated. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Wendy was taken aback, “Uh, what? I didn’t think I needed to tell you that. It was just right down the road, it’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal. Don’t talk to that motherfucker. I actually can’t believe you thought that would be okay.”
“Why would it not be? Did he do something to you?”
“Look— don’t worry about that, alright? He’s an asshole. I don’t like thinking about my girlfriend interacting with my supposed ‘ best-friend,’ why didn’t you ask me first?”
“I just assumed you guys drifted apart, that’s all. I didn’t think there was any malice involved-“
“Well, you would know if you asked me, huh? I had to hear about it from someone else, huh?”
“Stan, what the fuck are you saying right now? Do you really think that I can’t even look in the direction of a guy without it meaning that I’m interested?”
“What? No! That’s not what I said-“
“Then what ARE you saying?”
“Just don’t talk to Kyle.”
“Why not?”
“Look, I said I didn’t want to get into it. Just don’t talk to him anymore, okay?”
“It was a one time thing, Stan. I haven’t spoken to him before that in years.”
“Well, he sure as shit wasn’t hesitant to white knight for you at practice, was he?”
Wendy rolled her eyes, “Stan, are you serious?”
“Yeah. Dead serious. You don’t think I know what’s happening?”
“Look, he was just putting an asshole in his place, those were almost his exact words.”
“So you did talk to him?”
“Stan, while he was in my car, yes. What exactly are you implying right now? That he has a crush on me?”
“Hey, you said that, not me.”
“I can’t fucking believe you right now. Just because a guy stood up for me, doesn’t mean he likes me. God, I’m really starting to wonder exactly where you’re getting that idea from. Why does it matter?”
“Because firstly, you didn’t tell me, secondly, I know—or knew—Kyle. I’m a guy, I know how it works. It starts small, then only goes from there.”
“So, is that what you feel about me, then? Showing me little acts of kindness means that you like me?”
“Oh my God, don’t start to flip this onto me,” Stan’s voice grew more disinterested.
“What? I’m just using your own logic against you. Is that what you feel for me?”
“I don’t wanna hear this shit right now,” Stan stated.
“Of course you don’t, but you’ll be more than happy to— and he hung up on me. Great,” she finished sarcastically. She set her phone down to the side of her, irritated. She really started to wonder why they’d stopped talking, because it was clear that they had a falling out. She waited for a few minutes before opening her phone again to type out a message to Stan.
Look, if you don’t want me to talk to him, fine. I just need to know why. Why is it such an issue that I speak to him?
She watched as the ‘delivered’ receipt turn to ‘read,’ and the speech bubble appeared then disappeared several times.
Because it’s you going behind my back and talking to someone you know i hate. Like i dont go around talking to girls that you dont like and i know you would be pissed at me for it if i did, the bubble reappeared shortly after the message was sent. Wendy read it, multiple questions flew around inside her head, most she knew Stan wouldn’t answer. She contemplated defending herself before the next message was sent.
All you need to know is he is a fucking dick. You dont need to know anything else just please dont talk to him ever. If you were to become his friend hed just use you to get what he wanted then treat you like shit and leave you when you say something about it to him okay? Im just concerned about you rn, It ended, Wendy was almost offended that he really thought that she was incapable of detecting bullshit and knowing when to cut someone off, and as badly as she wanted to call him out on it, she decided not to. Instead, she just responded with a quick ‘this conversation isn’t over,’ and left her phone alone for the night; she couldn’t look at it without being angry.
Kyle lay on his bed, Ike in the desk chair he’d pulled up to play SmashBros with Kyle. The both of them cracking jokes and bantering each other, watching as Kirby flew off the screen.
“Ooh, damn you suck ass,” Kyle teased.
“Shut up, you just got lucky,” Ike retorted, focused.
“I’m always going to be better than you,” Kyle responded, Ike mocked him in return.
“At least mom and dad wanted me.”
“At least I’m not, like, 3 feet tall—or no, excuse me, 91 centimeters tall. Sorry, forgot you were Canadian.”
“Blah, blah, blah—look, you just lost.”
“What?” Kyle asked, refocusing on the screen. Ike pointed and laughed in his face obnoxiously. Kyle was preoccupied by the fact his phone was ringing. It was a number he hadn’t seen in a long time. He let it ring out, then waited to see if the number would text him. Sure enough, it did. Ike got curious, and looked over Kyle’s shoulder.
“Who is it? Is it a girl?”
“No, it’s Stan,” Kyle responded, confused and irritated. He read the message:
Dont ever fucking talk to Wendy again , Ike snatched Kyle’s phone away, reading it to himself.
“What the fuck? Did you get cozy to someone’s girlfriend again?”
“No, Wendy Testaburger offered me a ride today after practice.”
“Oooooh, she likes you,” Ike teased. Kyle rolled his eyes at him, snatching his phone back.
“No she doesn’t. One favor doesn’t mean anything,” Kyle turned his focus on replying to Stan.
Blow me. I’ll talk to whoever I want, Kyle taunted him. Kyle shut his phone off for the night, not waiting for Stan to read it or reply. He got back to playing Smash with Ike.