Chapter Text
“Bubbala, mommy’s late for work! Can you empty out the dishwasher with your telekinesis, please?” Sheila was rummaging through the pile of papers on the coffee table. “Where is my file for the ‘Think of The Children’ campaign…”
“Here.” Kyle was finishing off an apple in the next room as he lifted the file off of the table and waved it in front of his mom’s face. “I’ll empty it for five bucks.”
“Oh, come on, Kyle! I’m already late, and it takes you two seconds! You don’t even have to lift a finger!”
“Yeah, but you should never rely on psychic abilities.” Kyle retorted while tying his snow boots without using his hands.
“Alright, I’ll give you the five bucks, but I really have to leave now!” His mom was almost out the door.
“Deal. Now go!” He walked into the kitchen and complied, quickly putting all the clean kitchenware back into their assigned cabinets with his mind.
Okay, did that… Whoops, it’s 8 already, I should be heading out too.
“Bye dad, bye Ike!” The kindergarten was closed for the day due to a lice outbreak, and Kyle’s father Gerald had used one of his sick days to stay home from work and watch his little brother.
“Bye Kyle!” his dad was usually too lazy to respond out loud.
“Bye-bye!” Ike wasn’t.
~
The town was slowly waking from its slumber. For now, the only sound was the crunching and thumping of Kyle’s green boots in the snow. It was winter, and freezing cold. He pulled his ushanka a little lower over his red ears.
Soon it’d be loud again.
Kyle arrived at the bus stop early. Nobody else was here yet. They’d built a little bench here when he went to eighth grade, and it couldn’t hold Cartman, but for Kyle it held up.
He’d been kicking some snow around with his feet and listening to the morning birds for a few minutes, when he heard the crunch-thump of another pair of snow boots getting closer. He recognized the voice of those approaching thoughts.
“Hey, dude.” He smiled. “Good morning.”
Stan sat down next to him. “Morning. You sleep well?”
“Yeah, you?”
“Uh-huh.”
It went quiet again. The boys stared at the snow by their feet, awkwardly smiling at each other every now and then.
Kyle listened to the song stuck in Stan’s head.
“Tear it down, break the barricades… I wanna see what sound it makes…”
“I’m cold.” Stan said, suddenly.
“I mean, so am I, but what are ya gonna do?”
Stan breathed out through his nose and looked at Kyle.
“Warm up.” He said as he scooted closer.
Kyle peered back at him through his orange eyelashes.
“How are his lashes so long and curly? What the fuck?”
They sat in silence again.
“I hate this flavor with a passion… and I fucking hate the aftertaste…”
Stan’s music taste is so emo.
Kyle suddenly sat up a little straighter. Did he just lay his arm on the backrest behind me?
“How does it feel, how does it feel? How does it feel? Well, it feels like I’m on fire… Wake up, I know you can heaaarr meeee…”
Loud thumping in the snow behind them shook them out of their sleepy trances.
Stan jumped up. “Ah, hey guys!”
Kyle could hear his thoughts panicking a little. What for? Why are his thoughts always panicky?
“Hey Ken.” The redhead waved at his friend. “Cartman, you sound like a fucking elephant. We could hear you from miles away.”
“Ey! That’s just because muscles are heavy!”
“Morning.” Kenny muffled. “What time does the bus get here?”
Stan nudged Kyle. “What’d he say?” Stan was the only one in their friend group that still had trouble understanding Kenny at times.
“He asked what time the bus gets here. And it gets here at 08:30, so in a few minutes.”
“Thanks.” Kenny shoved his gloved hands in his pockets.
“It’s fucking freezing!” Cartman grunted.
“You should freeze some of that fat off, tubby!” Kyle and Cartman fell into their usual banter.
~
A few minutes later, the sound of wheels crunching in the salt on the roads caught their attention. Kyle sniffed up the familiar smell of gasoline. In the short amount of time they’d all been waiting together, South Park had woken up. Cars had passed by a few times, and the streets were slowly filling with people. Well, South Park always had been pretty empty, if there wasn’t some kind of rally or mass emigration. When the streets were ‘filled with people’ here, it meant there were five people in sight.
The boys got on the crowded bus. Their stop was one of the last, and they had to sit all the way in the back if they wanted some spots together.
“The bus is fucking late, yellow-toothed bitch.” Cartman said to miss Crabtree as they got in the school bus.
“What did you say?!?” Miss Crabtree screeched.
“I said the bus just up and braked, fellow goofy kids!”
“Oh. Well yes, it did brake…”
The four boys sat down all the way in the back.
Kyle stared out the window as the bus started driving them. In fifteen minutes, they’d be rushing to their classes.
He chose one thought to focus on and listen to for the ride.
“Dreamless in early graves… I never want it to be this way… The chemicals will bring you home again…”