Water

Ch. 2: In My Head

AN: Sorry for the wait to those of you who have been watching this. I had writer's block.

South Park (c) Matt Stone & Trey Parker

Kyle didn't show up.

It was fifteen minutes in, and I was starting to wonder if he was going to come at all. I was tempted to call him at the time, but that would have been stupid. I just have to be patient, I told myself. That's all. So, I just ended up waiting, wondering if God was just mocking me or something.

I didn't bother putting on something decent to wear. I left the clothes I had snatched from the floor on, and I knew I definitely looked like shit. Just my face was a dead give away for that one, but I was wearing a thin, long-sleeved grey and white striped shirt with a black band shirt over it, and I had picked up some old blue jeans that were getting too small to be comfortable and put them on regardless of how they looked on me. My hair was still wet and disheveled from the dive, so I kind of combed it out then put on my red, poof-ball hat.

I looked mismatched and silly and vaguely like a punk. At least I was still me somewhere under there, even if I was completely drained. Being depressed tends to do that to a person.

It only took me a minute or two to do that, so for the rest of the time I'd been standing or sitting around the living room waiting for Kyle to show up. I was actually starting to seriously look forward to it. As far as I could tell, our friendship seemed to be the only steady thing I still had going for me. I couldn't think of what my life would be like without him. Ugh. I didn't need more bullshit to wallow over, just some good times with my best friend. Time spent with him usually always left my glass half-full, even if only for a few moments. My mind wandered over the memories of the past times we'd gone to the movies together. Just before a Terrance and Phillip movie, we walked around the theatre looking at soon-to-come movie posters and made fun of them. Most of the new movies looked stupid and definitely not worth watching, but some of them we made a promise to go see just to make fun of. I wanted to do that with him again.

I went to check the time after a while, and apparently it had been twenty-one minutes since Kyle had hung up. I was still tired, alone, and depressed. Reminiscing on times I had spent with him weren't exactly helping things.

It wasn't like Kyle was renowned for being on time or super early or anything. He wasn't even known for being late. I never usually noticed how long it took him to arrive before, I guess. I kept watching the time thinking any minute he'd show up and hopefully have one hell of a good explanation. None of that 'sorry, dude, Kenny died' shit today. Someone other than Kenny better have died because, really? This is bullshit.

After an hour of sitting around downstairs, I went back up to my room and lay around. Fuck Kyle for not showing up. Fuck that redheaded kid right around the goddamn corner. I wasn't really looking forward to seeing his stupid face anyway. I wasn't glad that he had called me. I didn't need him to smile at me and try to make me worry less about life. No, I wanted to be alone. This is exactly what I wanted.

This is exactly what I wanted.

I repeated it to myself in my head and rubbed my face in my palms. It would be stupid to cry over him bailing on me. It happened sometimes. Friends do that. I've done that. I just wish he hadn't ditched on me today. Actually, I'd say that no matter what day it is. He rarely ever bails, and especially not without telling me.

I reached out to grab my phone and stare at it. He didn't even call or anything. Well, not yet, at least. He normally would if shit came up. The possibilities of something coming up was pretty high, but it wasn't like he could have been kidnapped or anything. That was highly unlikely in a small town like South Park. He's seventeen anyway; he can handle himself. It couldn't have been Kenny dying either because that's just an every day thing. Cartman would attempt something, but not today. That smug bastard is enjoying himself at Casa Bonita. Kyle's diabetes would be a problem if he weren't, you know, Kyle. He takes care of himself, so his hold up must be my fault.

He sounded fine over the phone, though. Then again, I've never been one to read atmospheres. Wendy constantly got on my case for that one when we dated.

I know I didn't really say anything that could set him off. I hardly even said anything, actually. Something had to have happened, but what? Kyle always had me come help him whenever there was something big going on. I was usually always there.

Deciding not to think on it any longer, I just put my phone on my pillow and rolled onto my side, hoping to just sleep it all off. Today I've lost hope in myself. Today I attempted suicide. Today my best friend didn't show up after he called me. Today I hate myself.

Why am I so pathetic?

It was no surprise that when I woke up, it was dark in my room. First thing I did was check my phone. I was thinking that maybe Kyle called to give an explanation for his absence. No such luck with my phone, however. Apparently it died while I was sleeping because the screen stayed black even when I held down the power button. I rolled over onto my back and glanced over at the clock. 3:26 A.M.

With the exception to the red numbers on my clock, I was basically blind. I could hardly see a damn thing except for a few ominous shapes. What was more bothersome was that it was sweltering hot under the covers, which I assumed I slipped under in my sleep, and I was sweating bullets. The clothes I never took off were uncomfortable as hell, too. Groggily, I sat up and pulled off the shirts I had layered on, tossing them to the floor. Pants were next.

I shifted to get off of my bed, but there was some interception with my legs. Something was on my bed. A little uneasy, I reached forward and felt around. After a moment of patting down near my legs, I found that there's an arm…and a back. Okay, so it's a person. That's kind of good…or really, really bad.

I snatched my hands away and waited for the person to say something or at least move, but there was nothing.

Oh, Jesus… Oh, God. I don't have an alternate dimension killer goldfish anymore, so hopefully it's not a dead body.

Please, God, don't let this be a dead body. My mom will freak out. She'll never be the same if I kill people in my sleep. My dad might try to lock me in the basement or throw me out into the woods or, even worse, put me in a mental facility. I really don't need to add on to how fucked up I am already. I swear, this better be a joke or something... Don't be an asshole, God.

After that short prayer, I pulled my legs up from under the covers. Trying not to make my bed creak under my weight, I got on my hands and knees and crawled forward to feel around for this person's head. So far that I knew, it wasn't my dad. This person's arms weren't that thick, and they were kind of soft to the touch and a bit more toned than my dad's. He could take out anyone's dad in a fight, but if he wasn't flexing or something, his arms were kind of flabby. It could have maybe been my mom, but her plus toned, muscular arms don't go together. I was pretty sure normal chicks never have arms like this.

The person on my bed was in a weird position on their side near the very end, narrowly avoiding my legs. I guess it was their own legs dangling near the edge that got me. I continued to feel around, and I finally found a face. It was a dude. On my bed. Not mom. Not dad. It was some dude.

I might have killed someone in my sleep.

I darted out of my bed and went to flip on the light before I could freak out any more than I already had. What was I supposed to do if I killed someone? Who was I supposed to tell? How the fuck was I supposed to deal with all this bullshit piling onto my life? Once the lights were on, I was hesitant to look, but once I finally chanced a glance at my bed relief washed over me like I don't know what when I saw who it was. Christ, I almost wanted to punch him for making me think I was a sleep walking murderer.

I followed through on my plan to take off my pants before wandering back over to the bed, standing at the end with my hands smugly resting on my hips, the hem of my boxers just below my hands. There was my best friend laying there in the most retarded position I've ever seen him. Kyle was kind of curled inward on his side, the back of his head against my wall but his chin tilted in towards his chest, and his arms were folded up at his chest while his legs were splayed out over the edge of my bed. His hat was slipping off of his head, and those curls were just fighting to get loose from it. His usual jacket was no where to be seen around my bed, so he looked scantily clad in just a light green recycle shirt and a regular pair of jeans. It was no surprise that Kyle lacked shoes; they were probably at the front door where he left them if there was mud on them.

"Kyle, wake up, you asshole."

I nudged his foot with my knee roughly in an attempt to wake him up. He rolled onto his back and stretched out his arms and legs, his eyes fluttering open. Instantly his gaze was on me, and I scowled at him. He was still half asleep from what I could tell because he was smiling in that pleasant, yet sleepy way while he shifted his legs all the way onto the bed.

"Mmh…?"

"Don't try to look so innocent. What're you doing in my bed? Actually, why did you bail on me earlier?"

"Stan…Relax, dude," he was still smiling softly up at me, and I could feel my anger melting away.

God damn, is he even awake right now? Is he high? I bet he was hanging out with Towelie while I was waiting for his ass. I bet he was getting high and shit. I swear to God if he even starts talking about walking on sunshine, I'm going to throw his ass out my window.

I huffed and crossed my arms, still frowning in his general direction. I needed some answers. God forbid if I ever wanted to know why he was in my bed unannounced. "Well?"

Instead of answering me, he pulled his shirt over his head, sliding off his hat in the process and tossed both to the floor. I continued to stare him down, hoping that would force something out of him. I hear peer pressure does great things these days. He shimmied out of his pants quickly and crawled under my covers, plopping on his side with his back to me.

If I hadn't expected that, I would have been gaping in part surprise and part annoyance. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let out an exasperated sigh. Kyle was in his 'comfort-zone' sleep. He wouldn't wake up for shit unless he didn't know why I'm pissed, or if something crazy happened. I wasn't going to get much of anything out of him unless I went out of my way to scare the shit out of him. I was pretty sure he'd be expecting it though, so there was no use in trying.

"I seriously hate you sometimes, dude."

After a moment more of staring down his motionless body, I flipped off the lights and crawled into bed beside him. "Move over," I mumbled, tugging on the covers. He shifted a bit more towards the wall and yawned while reaching up to cling to the pillow he had taken from me. Of course, he knew I'd take it back otherwise, so I guess it's a habit for him now.

In reality, I was relieved to find him there on my bed. Not just because I was scared to death he would be a dead body or a rapist otherwise. I didn't want to be alone anymore, and I guess I just got lucky this time. That always seems to be the case with Kyle, though. I'm pretty lucky to have such an awesome best friend.

With another sigh, I shifted closer to him and poked his side, whispering softly, "Hey, Kye..?"

There was no answer. I sat up on an elbow and stared down at him, waiting. After a few moments of silence, he shifted and turned over to face me. Although his eyes were still closed, I knew he was listening in to what I had to say.

"I, uh. I missed you, man."

Kyle abruptly reached up and grabbed the side of my head, then pushed it down into the pillow, muttering under his breath, "Go to sleep, Christ."

I chuckled and swatted away his hand before shifting into a comfortable position on my side. Kyle was already out cold again. I wasn't as tired as before since I had slept so long, but getting a few extra hours couldn't be unhealthy.

I think this is what I'm still alive for. Weird shit like this.

I don't think it has to make sense.

It just works.