Meet some friends of mine

Kyle fluff

Y/N's POV:
The walk to Kyles is cold, it's been snowing on and off. My hands are shaking but I don't think it's the weather. I never really saw Kyle as anything more than a friend, I was too busy daydreaming about the bad boy mysterious loner Kenny, along with everyone else. And now, all at once, I'm a nervous wreck. I steady my hands enough to knock. I hear Kyle rush down the stairs but Ike beats him to the door. Ike is 12 now and almost as tall as Kyle, much to his horror. It's the Canadian genes, he once bluffed. Ike doesn't say anything, just smirks at me unnervingly until Kyle manages to get in front, ushering me in and nervously laughing, flashing Ike a death stare quickly after. I try and catch his eye but he can't meet my gaze. I bite my frostbitten lip and follow Kyle up the stairs. His room is neatly organised yet still cozy. I note the metal poster from his goth phase and smile inwardly. In all my fluster I almost forgot the reason I came.
"You're gonna wanna sit down for this" I laugh, perching on the edge of his bed. He sits down, awkwardly crossing his long slender legs, bent forward and eager to hear.
"Okay so you know how Cartman hates his cat Mr Kitty? Like maybe even more than he hates you and his mom?"
"Yeah?" He asks eagerly, a smile already forming at the corner of his lips.
"Well turns out the cat has died like 3 times and his mom just keeps replacing it with a new one, it even changed sex and he didn't pick up on it. She thinks - oh god I can't it's so funny - she thinks he'd be so heartbroken over the loss of Mr Kitty and she can't put him through that kind of pain."
We both fall about laughing, so much so I slide down off the bed onto the floor with a thunk, which just makes us laugh harder. Kyle comes and sits down on the floor next to me, our backs against the bed. He gets dimples when he laughs and it's the cutest thing. I'm suddenly shy again, cursing myself for laughing, probably in an ugly way. He passes me a controller and we play minecraft, getting lost in a world of our own creation. I accidentally hit a pig in the game and he looks stricken.
"You can't kill the animals, they're too cute!" He protests, pretending to be outraged. It's adorable that he cares, he has a sensitive soul that's just well guarded. I let myself wonder what it's like to be allowed in. Only Nichole managed that...

"How come you and Nichole broke up?" I ask suddenly.
He looks embarrassed and I'm suddenly aware how abrupt and rude that was.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I was just wondering what problems you could possibly have when you're so...level headed and- and understanding - and lovely and-"
I'm rambling, trying to remedy the situation I just stuck my foot into.
"It's okay, I'm just not used to talking about feelings and stuff with the guys. She had a thing for Stan, she was just with me to get to him. I don't blame her. No big drama, just couldn't make her stay. Everyone seems to be going their own way now" he continues thoughtfully. "Even Stan. He was my best friend and then it all just...got away from me" he finishes, sadly.

"Oh man I'm so sorry" I say genuinely, cursing me and my big mouth. "We're in a weird period of change, we're all trying to find our own way and none of us have any idea what we're doing. Things will all work out" I try and assure him, as well as myself. I reach out and put my hand on his. He looks up and finally meets my eyes.
"Do you think?" He asks hopefully, as if I've offered him a lifeline. The childlike innocence in his dark green eyes makes my chest hurt.
"Definitely" I say, with more conviction.

"I wish things would just stay the same" he says, solemnly. "You get used to how things are and then they get messed up."
"Not all change is bad" I say, cheeks burning.
"How can losing friends ever not be bad? Unless it's Cartman of course" he adds with a little smile, briefly pulled out of his funk.
"Sometimes you gain something else" I whisper, before leaning in to kiss him. He's taken aback for a second, then kisses me back. I end up in his lap, him gently stroking my face and playing with my hair, all whilst kissing me softly. I lace my hand through his curls, wondering what it would be like to desperately grasp at them whilst breathlessly moaning his name. I run my hand over his six pack and something stirs inside me. I want him but his eyes look so lost and heavy and I don't think that's what he needs right now. They're not bedroom eyes; perhaps living room ones instead. Comfortable. Safe. He tugs the blanket off the bed and we find sleep on the floor of his room, both fully dressed but more comfortable than I've felt in a long time. I wonder if this is a dream until his collarbone digs into me and reminds me of the reality; that he's my awkward, angular, lanky friend. And I like that.