You Can't Always Get What You Want {Kyman} || (SLOW UPDATES)

Marlboro

Randy and Sharon knocked on the room's door at around 5:30. "We're going to go to the restaurant now. Are you all dressed?" Sharon peaked her head through the door.
"Yeah mom! In a second!" Stan called. Cartman shut off the game and put on his shoes, as I did. I really, really didn't want to sit in the car with him anymore, let alone be on this trip. Thank god we're in Colorado. I can find my way home tomorrow if I try hard enough....
We piled back into the seats we were sitting in just a few hours ago. Stan could see that I was exhausted, and hangry, nonetheless. He knew not to bother me during those times.
I must've taken a short nap in the car because we got to the restaurant relatively quick. We went to Ruby Tuesday, which was one of my favorite restaurants (and songs) ever.
I wasn't sure how close we were to Denver, because Cartman would've been pleading to go to Casa Bonita, and let's be honest–that would've brought back unnecessary memories for me, and I wasn't really having a great time on this trip. Keep in mind, today was only the first day.
Cartman ran out of the car to go inside.
Stan got out before me, as I rubbed my eyes and stretched my arms. I heard a plop on the floor.
"Ignore it. I'll check out what it is when we get back.
He got out and started walking. But I looked around first to check out what the plop was. I wish I hadn't.
On the floor, in front of where Kenny was sitting, was a pack of Marlboro cigarettes, which must've came out of Stan's pocket when he got out. I had no idea how to confront him about it. But for now I had to get the hell out of his car, or else he'd know I was poking around.
Minutes later I found the Marshes waving at me to come sit down. Kenny and Cartman already started to grab their food at the salad bar, but Stan waited for me.
"What took you so long? I'm fucking starving."
"Sorry," I replied. "I was stretching."
"Maybe next time don't fall asleep in the car. It's pretty damn rude," he teased.
"Maybe next time don't wake me up at 6AM to get in a car for three hours. It's pretty damn rude," I snapped back, and he blushed. "Touché." It shut him up.
Other than focusing on what to order, my biggest concern right now was about the cigarettes. Do I let it slide or should I ask him about it? If I let it slide he'll do it more, but if I talk to him about it he'll think I'm a snitch or something, and think I'm going to consider telling his parents he does it.
I tried to focus. The goth kids are smoking, and the little one is still in grade school, and has been doing it since kindergarten. I know this because Ike tells me that he once almost set the school on fire because his teacher flipped out and told him to 'put it out' but carelessly used the floor tiling to do it. I told Ike to stay away from him and not interact with him.
And the other goth kids were about our age. But the girl almost died of lung cancer last year, and that's the biggest concern on this. Nervously, I tapped Stan on the shoulder.
He turned around. "Hm?"
I stood blankly. How do I ask him?"
"Uh...Stan, listen. Do you...do you smoke?"
He looked like he had all the color flushed out of his face, left his plate and pulled me over to into the bathrooms.
"How the fuck do you know?" He asked me.
"I saw it, god damn it! The plop that we heard in the car? I went looking for what it was, and it was the box of it." Shit! I made a mistake telling him that's how I found it out.
"You motherfucker! I told you to leave it!"
"You've known me forever! You knew I was gonna poke around for it sooner or later!"
"I don't care. I told you to leave it!" The last two words made me shudder.
"Don't you know how dangerous this is?" I didn't have an argument for him telling me to leave it. He was right about that.
"Kyle, nobody dies of lung cancer, okay? It's just a false lie made up by advertising companies so that they can rid the tobacco companies of their money. Remember that time when we visited the tobacco company? Huh?"
"Yes, but–"
"Look at how carefree those workers were. Did you see them? Happy, jumping with joy. You wanna take away jobs from the nice friendly workers, or do you wanna be a huge pussy about it?"
"Lung cancer is nothing to be a pussy about! I'm protecting you!"
"I don't need to be protected from a fake disease! You're my friend, not my mom!" Then, the yelling went silent for a second before I broke it.
"Henrietta Biggle."
"What?"
"Henrietta Biggle. You know her."
"Of course I do, but why do you keep saying her name?"
"She almost died last year because of lung cancer. Remember that?"
Stan stared at me. Finally. I got his attention.
"That was so she could be absent for two weeks."
"You are such a fucking dick and it's because you don't wanna accept it!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. At this point, Stan lost it. He pushed me to the floor, and was about to most likely punch me, knowing him.
Suddenly, the door swung open. I forgot we were in a public place. "Fuck!" I yelled.
"Check it out! Stan's about to give the Jew a blowjob!" In front of the doorway was a blonde and an ugly, fat brunette.
"What're you doing here?" I growled at him.
"What the hell are you doing in here?" He questioned. "You've been in here for about fifteen minutes now. We thought you were sucking his dick."
"Yeah. We would've came sooner but we 'accidentally' went into the girls' room," Kenny nudged Cartman's arm with his elbow and snickered. "Heh, yeah, that was funny."
"Can we please have some time alone?"
Stan was about to speak up but was interrupted.
"Some time alone? So you can have his tongue down your throat?" He teased.
I don't know what exactly came over me then. If it was anger, hatred, or loathing, or maybe just all three. But whatever it was made me get pissed. I couldn't take it anymore and I socked Cartman right in the jaw. I didn't realize how much force I had in me or if Cartman was just a fucking pussy, but whatever it was made him scream. He started wailing so hard. I didn't know wether or not to apologize. So Kenny glared at me, took him by the arm, and probably snitch me out to Randy and Sharon. I looked at Stan.
"Sorry for being a dick before. It's your life, not mine. Go ahead and continue smoking. I don't care. I'm...sorry." He glared at me, walked past me and slammed the door, leaving me all alone in the bathroom. Thinking I can reconcile with Stan was a bad mistake. I thought I could make him the only one to not hate me on this trip.