Let's delve into madness, shall we..?

To Be Honest

It's easy to tell that Eric is insane.

You only have to spend a few moments with him to understand that he is a very fragile person with extremely fragile mental health. He seemingly fluctuates between personalities, but if you know him well enough you would be able to tell he just fluctuated between moods. He has a very dangerous, obsessive personality.

Kyle knows this.

It's easy to tell Kenny is insane.

Maybe it was his abusive parents. Maybe it was early exposure to alcohol. Maybe it was the continuous fluctuation between Earth, Heaven and Hell. Maybe. It doesn't particularly matter why, the point still remains that Kenny McCormick is absolutely batshit. He's extremely clingy and possessive and antisocial as well as selectively mute.

Kyle knows this.

It's not very easy to tell that Stan is insane.

For all the world, Stan seems to be a smiling, easy-going, everyday teenager. Mediocre grades, football captain, et cetera, et cetera.

Kyle always thought that Stan was the most sane of them all.

How wrong he was...

OoO

The library had always been a sanctuary to Kyle. He spent almost all of the time that wasn't sucked up by friends, family, school and sleep in the corner, curled up in a rocking chair that people knew better than to sit in, a book in hand. Last year, the librarian went ahead and posted a plaque on the wall declaring that the area was Kyle's.

Nobody was surprised when he got a job there the moment he was old enough. Mrs. McCarthy practically threw the uniform at him.

On weekends, Kyle worked from six to midnight. He used to love the shift, the calm silence of the library. Very few people came through after ten-thirty or so, so he was free to sit behind the counter and read or work.

Now he can't stand it.

His fingers twitched nervously, tears stinging his eyes from the unadulterated fear welling in his chest as he trembled, trying to get himself together as he watched the clock approach midnight.

It's been almost exactly one week.

Slowly, his frightened green eyes slid from the still door to the tragedy section, towards the back. A morbid smile quirked his lips. How fucking appropriate.

Sighing slightly, he once again told himself that it was just a bad dream brought on by erratic blood sugar. Just a nightmare. He scooped up the pile of children's books sitting on the counter from earlier in the day when a daycare came in.

Instinctively, he clutched the books firmly to his stomach, walking as silently as possible towards the children's section. Once again, he glanced into the aisle just off the side from the arch leading into the brightly-colored room, wondering what was going through the manager's head when he put the erotica section next to the children's section. If one more bratty kid tried to check out smut, he swore he was gonna scream.

Sighing, he glanced at the title of the first book. Calico's Curious Kittens. A smile tugged at his lips. That was the first book he ever read all the way through without help.

He was tempted to crack it open but decided against it, delicately sliding it into it's designated place and spinning on his heel to put away a couple picture books. He worked purposely slowly, trying to take up the next twenty minutes so he didn't have time for a full-on panic attack.

As he slid the last book into place, a Magic Tree House book, he sighed, crossing his arms over his stomach as if he felt sick and leaning his head against the cool spines of the children's books on the too-high-for-kids shelves. He slid his eyes closed, murmuring softly, "Just a bad dream."

Tears pricked his eyes once more and he let them come, wondering who else had nightmares about such heinous things. About... About being violated. And hurt. Not necessarily physically, but mentally, emotionally. And if these dreams were so common, why did no one else break down like he was?

Why was no-one else afraid of the tragedy section?

"Why are you crying?"

Warm arms wrapped around his thin waist, pulling him gently against a large, familiar frame, hands slithering up under his shirt to caress his hips. His eyes widened, more tears filling his eyes and falling down his face as he shook, rendered paralyzed with the realization that it hadn't been a dream after all.

Lips met the side of his neck, a familiar head nudging his cheek to reveal more of his vulnerable skin. Subdued by his thoughts, Kyle allowed his head to tip sideways, shivering a little as those soft lips pressed butterfly kisses to his fragile skin, allowed his gentle attacker to press him slowly against the shelf, the wooden slabs pressing uncomfortably into his form at regular intervals. A harsh blush bloomed across his stricken face as the form behind him pressed his hips into his lower back.

The man behind him breathed hotly into his ear, making him shudder, and whispered lovingly, "I missed you. Did you miss me, princess?"

Kyle blinked slowly, feeling himself go limp under his attacker's words and hands. "I don't want this." he echoed himself from the previous incident, much calmer than he was a week prior. He couldn't quite bring himself to freak out. Kyle is a fast learner-he already accepted that this was going to happen regardless of what he wanted, and that he would be fine.

His attacker is very loving.

"I love you." There's that mantra. Kyle sobbed quietly as those hands, the ones he grew up holding and watched draw on lazy Sundays, slid up his chest to start unbuttoning his uniform.

"Don't do this." Kyle begged, leaning further into the books in front of him. "Please God, don't do this."

His attacker pressed smiling lips into his pulse as one of his invasive hands caressed his thighs, the other pressed below his collar bone, perhaps to feel his rapid, panicked heartbeat. "I love you so much..." he whispered.

Apparently, in his mind, that made everything okay.

Kyle cringed in shame and revulsion as the button to his pants was snapped open, the sound of the zipper too loud in the silent library.

"Stan..." he sobbed into his arms, tears rolling freely down his face. "Stan, stop..."

Stan did not stop. Of course not, why would he? Why should he listen to Kyle? Didn't they love each other?

OoO

Two silent boys knelt outside the library, gazing down into one of the many rooftop windows at the fascinating, erotic display their best friends were putting on in the children's section of the library as Stan rocked slowly and lovingly into his unwilling, crying best friend.

"Told you so." Kenny whispered, sucking on the end of one of his over-long locks of hair as he glanced around suspiciously for non-existent onlookers. Tonight was one of his talking nights. His sudden paranoia and the bags under his eyes indicated he was coming up on twenty-four hours without sleep. Eric reaffixed his eyes on the intimate pair in the library as he silently lamented that he only had six hours to knock the blond out if he didn't want to deal with his hallucinations.

"Whatever." he growled quietly, rubbing at the burn left on his wrist from earlier that day. It still stung pleasantly. "How come he gets to take the Jew and we don't?"

Kenny started to reply but got distracted for a moment as Stan abruptly picked up the pace, making Kyle cry out. "I'm sure he'll share if we ask nice..." the blond mused a moment later, glancing over his shoulder to the quiet wooded area behind them, weary of a non-existent noise he didn't really hear. He wanted to go inside...

As a matter of fact, both boys had half a mind to interrupt the duo.

"I don't want to share." the brunette whined selfishly, earning a look from his companion.

"None of us want to share him, fatass." Kenny snarled, baring his teeth. "But there's one Kyle and three of us."

At they fell silent, watching as the pair reached release at the roughly same time and Stan began to lovingly caress the exhausted boy's body, sliding out and picking him up to hold him tenderly against his still-clothed chest. He moved towards the table in the corner where the adults sat to watch their children and laid him down, stepping back to pull off his clothes properly.

"Is this making you hard too?" Kenny asked curiously, head cocked to the side inquisitively as they started in on round two-or rather, Stan started in on round two while Kyle stared at the ceiling and just sort of... Allowed himself to be forcibly loved.

"Eh." Eric sighed absently, not lifting his eyes from the 'show'. "I'm more jealous than aroused... And it's a little... Slow for my tastes."

Kenny snorted. "Fucking sadist."

Eric slapped him over the back of the head. "I like it rough." he corrected.

"'I'm big boned.'" the blond mocked quietly, eyes fixed on the sight below them once more, smiling softly at the way Stan was so agonizingly gentle, even while forcing his best friend. Interrupting Eric's angry huffing, he asked quietly, "Dude, is that rape or love?"

Eric cut off his anger, watching Stan kiss away Kyle's bitter tears. Slowly, he shrugged. "Why can't it be both?"

OoO

Beautiful. I think so, anyway. Have you noticed that the controversy of noncon is one of my favorite things to write about? Kudos if you did.

I might continue this. In the mean time, please visit my profile and vote in my poll to see what I'm working on next.

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