Style One Shots

Nightmare

It was 2.35am and the quiet mountain town was dark and isolated, the sky was filled with smoky black clouds and the rain was light and patted against the window softly. Everyone was asleep, everyone except for the young ten year old boy, Kyle Broflovski. Being scared was an understatement, he was absolutely terrified. Terrified of the small storm going on outside, terrified of the monsters in his head and terrified of the things he can do when he's alone. He had no sense of morality and one little bump in the night scared him almost to death. Kyle was born a defect in society, a mistake, he had a different, unlikeable hair colour compared to the people in his class, his emerald-green eyes were unnaturally bright and most importantly he had a few mental disorders which ruined his image. Insomnia, anorexia, diabetes type 1 and OCD, he had a few issues to say the least and he barely dealt with them with assistance, nevermind when he was on his own. He sat up in his soft, navy bed, curled into himself in the corner of his bed, the navy sheets covering his shaking, quivering form as he stared aggressively at the blackness covering the other side of his room. If only he could reach the lamp shade without his body being massacred by the shadows of his room. His phone lay next to him as he breathed heavily, his head swivelled towards the window as soon as he saw the medium sized figure climbing in, one lanky leg after the other. He pushed backwards into his wall until the figure shut the window behind him and spoke softly, attempting not to wake up the poor ginger boys' parents up, "Kyle?"

The small boy sprung forwards immediately into the taller boys arms. His face buried into the older males chest as he calmed down slightly from the small panic he had just encountered.

"Stan! You c-came!"

The boy known as Stan nodded and lead Kyle back under his blankets. "Of course I did! You worried me so much with that message, Kyle! Are you okay?"

The raven haired boy asked as he put on the warm lamp beside them, the light was gentle and soft and barely lit up anything but proved calming to Kyle late at night.

"Yes, now that you're here. Stan, it wa-was horrible!" Kyle stuttered as he sat in his bed, the raven haired boy sat down in front of him and stroked the boys legs gently, hoping to keep him calm and relaxed, more so than he would've been, that is.

"Well what happened?" Stan said softly as he watched Kyle play with his skinny, pale wrists gently, "What made you so upset, Ky?"

Kyle looked upwards with his bright green eyes, his soft, ginger curls bounced at the small movement and he rubbed his hand through the locks almost instantly after he noticed. "I- well, you left me... You left me for so long, you said- You said, 'fuck you, Kyle' an- and then you got shot by someone and your blood was... IT WAS EVERYWHERE! Your last words were 'fuck you, Kyle'. Everyone hated me b-'cause you hat'd me 'nd you were g-gone for'ver!"

His soft sobs filled the silence as Stan brought him to his chest and rubbed his best friends back as he spoke quietly, "I could never hate you, Kyle! You're my best friend, and I'm not gonna die until you die!"

"But you don't know that Stan, you could die tomorrow and I probably wouldn't know until after everyone else that I'll forever be alone and-" Stan cut him off, "I won't let myself die, Kyle."

Kyle just nodded as he yawned, he closed his eyes and Stan lay him down, observing him as he eventually fell asleep. The slow rise and fall of his skinny chest, the long eyelashes that curled at the end as well as his long ginger curls, which he usually hid in his green ushanka and his soft freckles that danced across his cheeks.

"I'll always be here, Kyle..."

"Forever and always?"

"Forever and always."