Meet Some Friends Of Mine (South Park X Reader)

Bastards

~~~~

"She's asleep." Kyle sits down with a heavy sigh, on the couch next to Stan.

"Okay.." is all Stan can muster up.

It's quiet in the room between the boys, so much to say, yet so little understanding of how. It's not like this was something they could just get over. Something they could put on the back burner for a while as they come to terms with what to say.
Someone had died today. And there's no telling what's going to happen when she wakes up.

The boys pity her, she's going to wake up to a reality she doesn't deserve. One she can't escape. It was traumatizing, for all of them but mostly, for her. The guys had been around this kind of shit their whole lives. They had trauma for breakfast as children.
This was different though, their friend is dead. And for some reason, no matter how hard Stan and Kyle tired to remember the events from this morning, they just couldn't. The whole ordeal fuzzy, like a bad dream they had. Cartman hadn't said anything at all either. Just calmly, and straight faced watching as she sobbed into Kenny's body— and her screaming. That was something they surly weren't going to forget for a long time. It's was awful, gruesome and truly the most devastating sound the boys had ever heard.

It's like the more time that passes, the more they lose. The more blurry the picture gets, and for a second they have to remind each other again of today's events. Almost like when they wake up tomorrow, they won't remember it at all.

"At least— she's comfortable." Stan looks down.

"And clean". Kyle's adds.

Stan looks over to Kyle, a look of realization crossing his features.
He had taken care of her. Changed her out of her bloody, ripped clothes, and washed them. He cleaned her skin of blood and wrapped her not broken, but badly sprained ankle. Putting pain medicine and water next to his desk, and ice on her foot before closing the door and walking downstairs to sit with Stan. He had changed out of his clothes as well, as she soaked both of them while he carried her away from the scene.
Unfortunately, the only clothes he could put her in— were his own. But, they were clean, and that's all that matters.

"I don't want her to wake up alone". Kyle had said.

Now, here they sit. On the couch of Kyle's house waiting for whatever was coming next.

But what was coming next? What were they waiting for?

Oh right, Kenny is dead.

"Holy shit. They— killed Kenny..".

"Bastards."

~~~~

                      ___________________

It's my own groaning that wakes me up, sobbing in my sleep as I snap my eyes open. To scared to move my body, remembering the pain. My cheeks wet and raw as I quickly wipe them and sit up.

I'm not in my room.

...These are not my clothes.

It doesn't take me long to piece the puzzle together as I lay back down, this time on my side. I'm in Kyle's room. He must have taken me here, and apparently— cleaned me. I see the ice on my foot, grateful for the numbing agent it exceeds to my bone. I put my hands under the pillow and lay there for a while. Not moving or really thinking about anything. Just staring off into space while the images flash unconsciously through my head. I feel numb, cold, just like my ankle. That's when the guilt hits me. Like a— car.

Kenny is gone. And it's my fault. He died saving me. My stupidity, my fuck up, my carelessness. That's the reason he's dead. Because of me.

I should have never moved to this town. I should have stayed, moved out. Forced my dad to keep me. Something. I'm the worst thing that's happened to these boys.

Oh god, they hate me don't they?

I don't blame them. I hate me too. I was an idiot, I stepped out in front of that car all on my own. It should have been me.

It should have been me.
It should have-

The door to Kyle's room opens, and I hear the footsteps walking in. My name is being called softly, and gently as I feel a hand rub my shoulder.

"You awake"? I hear Kyle ask.

I nod my head, silent. To afraid to look him in the eyes.

"How— are you feeling?" He sits down on the bed with me, never moving his hand from my back.

I shrug. Sniffing quickly, as I close my eyes. Feeling the tears starting up again.

Don't ask me that.

I try my best to hold in my sobs, but they suffocate me as my tears run down my face and onto the mattress.

"I know". Kyle says oh so soft, squeezing my shoulder in comfort. His words ring out in my head.

Slowly I turn around, facing him and opening my eyes. I watch as his expression breaks upon seeing mine. He wipes my tears away with his hand on my cheek.
I sit up so fast I knock the ice to the floor, whimpering in pain as my body burns. But I wrap my arms around Kyle anyway, beginning to sob into his shoulder.
He's seen this on more then one occasion actually, more then anyone of the other guys and I feel awful. Like he's the one that has to nurse me back to heath every time I slip up. Now, feeling guilty about everything about myself.
Guilty that I'm alive.
Guilty that I'm can't handle my emotions myself.
Just plain guilty.

"I know". He whispers, rubbing the back of my head.

I quickly pull away. Closing up completely, and turning myself off. No longer wanting anyone to see me like this. I promised never again.

I'm worthless.

I wipe my cheeks and take a deep breath, before standing up out of bed.
I immediately regret my decision, but hide the pained expression on my face anyway. Stifling the pained groan in my throat.

"Hey, be careful"!

"I— should go home."

He grabs my wrist and turn me around to him. I don't meet his eye as I quickly turn away and walk out of the room. Every step I take feels like I'm waking in hot lava. Needless in my shins as I pretend I'm not limping. Pretending I don't feel like I'm drowning.
I flee down the stairs and into the living room, not expecting Stan to be sitting there on the couch. We make eye contact and I widen my eyes. I Stifle that as well, while I pick up the pace a little. Grabbing the front door handle and turning around one last time.

"T-thanks for, your help." I stutter, now thoroughly embarrassed.

Never again.

"Wait"!

I don't answer as I put on my shoes on and walk out the door. Trying my hardest not to slam it as I break down outside of it. As fast as I can, walking home and slamming my own door. Locking myself in and screaming into my palms.

I slide down the door, sobbing into my hands. Crying from the pain I feel inside, and out. Physical, and mental as I try not to let it kill me. Suffocate me in its grasp.

I don't move for a long time.