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hunnysnoops · 29 days

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White Teeth Teens

Chapter One: Undone

Kylie Broflovski x fem Reader

If you want to destroy my sweater, pull this thread as I walk away.

Premise: Despite having almost inseparable families, you and Kyle couldn't hate each other anymore than you already. The second you saw him you had your claws out and we would be ready to hold a knife to your throat, like wolves you devoured each other until a bump in the road sent you tumbling into a new dynamic. Maybe you two can find new ways to fall apart.

PART TWO

CW: Vulgar language+humour / mentions of smoking and drugs / Cartman gets called fat

Kyle was the only one who knew how truly competitive you were. He couldn't figure out how no one else saw especially during your sports matches, you always had to be forward, had to score the last point, had to win, and you craved it as compulsively as the nicotine you sucked from your fingernails when you ran out of cigarettes to burn through.

Your parents had always been close to Kyle's since high school allegedly; being constantly forced to jump back and forth between each other's houses for family dinners and game nights didn't aid in the fact that you wanted to tear each other's throats out with razor-sharp teeth. They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder and this absurd proximity made the both of you sick with a frothing rage.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly where this hatred started, it was likely back in middle school where it was taboo for boys and girls to hang out, and those kids acted like it breached scripture if you did. Truthfully you didn't remember being friends but there was photo evidence of you playing as children so you couldn't deny it.

He has seen every inch of your life inside and out from the seventeen years that you were cursed to spend side by side. He knew that you had some fun habits such as swallowing back a little bit of synthetic sunshine in the form of little tabs of acid and how you would take a joint for a stroll in the dead of night.

For every secret he held over your head, you dangled one of his right before his green eyes. This is the only thing that kept all hell from breaking loose.

"Good practice girls, I'll see all of you on Thursday," Coach Jackson said, with no indication of pride for the team's gruelling efforts on her tanned face, not even a dribble of sweat on her brow since all she did was stand in place and yell at you.

As soccer practice finally came to a close the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting an orange glow on the team where you all lay on the ground of the pitch next to your bags, trying to catch your breath. Nichole chugged down her water so fast that it was dribbling down her chin and droplets had soaked into her tee shirt.

You were the most composed of all of them despite being a little short of breath, you wiped the sweat from the bow of your lip and began to peel off your sweaty shin guards.

"How are you so okay?" Annie asked, red-faced, strands of her curly blonde hair sticking out and flying loose in the wind while she sipped on a Gatorade.

You shrug "I run a lot," It was the truth, you liked the feeling of burning in your lungs along with the fact that you built up good stamina and in turn were able to withstand your coach's harsh practices.

"I should start running with you," Annie says, panting heavily before she throws herself flat against the cool grass.

"I don't know if you could keep up," There's something of a smile playing on Red's face while she shoves her gross gear into her duffle bag. "I see her run by my house every night." She had a bit of trouble keeping her shag cut tied back in a ponytail, any attempt to get the layers to stay in a braid or bun was futile so she settled on a black headband to at least keep it out of her face.

Off in the distance, Bebe honked her car horn, she had shown up early to pick up her friends and due to this in the last fifteen minutes of practice you could hear classic Justin Bieber blasting faintly from her car. "Annie, we gotta go," Nichole says.

"Ugh," Annie draws out in her dazey state. Nichole paid her friend the service of grabbing her bag and trying to drag her up to her feet.

"C'mon," Nichole mutters, hooking an arm around Annie and yanking her up to her feet. Annie finds her own footing and detaches herself from Nichole, she's still in her shin guards and cleats. "Are you coming to Wendy's later?" Nichole looks at you, sweat shimmering on her ebony skin beneath the setting sun.

You think about it for a moment before ultimately shaking your head "I gotta pick my brother up."

"What about after?"

"Too crammed with homework," You were lying through your teeth, your social battery was just running a little low and things with your dad weren't going too great. You made the decision that you needed to lock yourself in the bathroom run the shower over your skin and scrub until the water washed away the stress of your week or get high with Kenny until you felt your face go numb. Just something along those lines.

"Too bad," Annie frowns, eyes half-lidded and breathes shallow.

"See you tomorrow then," Red waves at you before heading to her car, bright hair sticking out in the green landscape.

“Love ya, Red,” You look around at the rest of your team, all cooling down and conversing "Anyone need a ride home?" Everyone looks around and shakes their heads "Isla?"

"No," She says "I'm going with Kelly."

"Alright," You sling your bag over your shoulder, clutching your carabiner in hand, it has a little keychain of a Volkswagon bus on it, a cowboy hat knick-knack and of course your actual keys. "Bye guys, see you on Thursday."

Your words are met with collective 'goodbyes' from the girls. You walk off the pitch, and despite your legs feeling like jello you manage to step off of the grassy field and land on concrete, lazy steps leading you back to your car.

Tossing your bag into the backseat, you tap around on your phone to connect to the speaker, turn it up as loud as it goes and roll down your windows. You liked your music so loud that you couldn't even hear your own thoughts, just your playlist on shuffle as you absentmindedly sang along to it. You grabbed some body spray and doused the car in it to cover up the subtle linger of cigarettes from your late-night drive the previous evening.

The air was warm and carried the scent of fresh-cut grass as you drove through the familiar suburban streets. With the windows down, you felt the gentle breeze tousle your hair, a welcome relief from the day's heat. You hummed along to the music, mind drifting as you navigated the familiar route.

As you turned the corner onto their neighbour's street, the sun painted the sky in a breathtaking array of colours - hues of orange, pink, and purple blending seamlessly against the evening sky. You couldn't help but steal a moment to admire the beauty of the sunset, the vibrant colours reflecting in your eyes. It was nearing six pm when you finally pulled into the Broflovski driveway.

You step out, looking a little worse for wear. You had taken off your shin guards and cleats but left the knee-high socks on as well as a tee shirt with the South Park cows logo on it and a pair of athletic shorts. It was one of the warmer days since it was nearing summer though South Park had a way with erratic weather that couldn't make up its mind, you were sure there would be a storm tomorrow to cancel out the nice weather.

Knocking on the door, you put on a smile, expecting to see Gerald or Sheila though you were unpleasantly met with their oldest son, Kyle. Your smile drops immediately and it's easy to see that he isn't too excited to see you either. "Oh." You push passed Kyle and into his house "Weston," You call out "Time to go!"

Kyle wrinkles his nose "You smell like hand sanitizer," He says, speaking on all of the body mist you had sprayed in the car.

"And you look like orphan Annie," You turn quickly to face him before calling up the stairs "Weston, let's go!"

"Did you leave your windows down at the car wash?" His eyes rake up your body at your sweaty form, little strands of hair sticking to your neck.

"Go on Accutane, matchstick," You retort. This nickname came about when Kyle began to outgrow his friends, with a lanky body and a mop of curly red hair, the nickname struck you in a moment of genius. As of now, he was wearing his hat, he hardly ever took it off, especially out in public. You'd only seen it come off his head when he was swimming or when his mom forced it off.

Something about the Broflovski house was always comforting even if you hated one-fourth of the family, you loved the other three. The scent of whatever Sheila was cooking always lingered in the air, right now the smell was sweet and faint. You assumed she hadn't been home but caught a glimpse of a cookie rack set out on the kitchen counter.

His eyebrows furrow "My acne isn't even that bad," He was right, you just knew that it got under his skin "Junkie," He says, a little less creative than your nickname for him, born from the time you did acid and woke up in his backyard, luckily before his parents noticed you but not after Kyle took pictures of you passed out on the grassy lawn as well as a few rumours that had been spread about you.

"Sure, ginger, sorry you have a hard knock life," You had run out of insults to call him after seventeen years. In middle school, you ripped on him constantly for how scrawny he was along with voice cracks and his acne, though in recent years, he had passed puberty, had a deeper voice, sorted out his pimple issue, and taken to running, basketball, lacrosse, and going to the gym to tone up. You could still rag on him for it but it has less impact when it wasn't true and god knows you wouldn't go mocking his religion, you may have hated him but you had morals. All you had left to make fun of was his hair colour.

It was similar to the way he couldn't make fun of you for being ugly, unpopular, or stupid like he used to since puberty hit you like a bus and you were almost unrecognizable from the brace-faced awkward kid you used to be. You were also a little too confident and erratic for his liking.

You were going to make your way upstairs to Ike's room where you assumed the two boys had been until you heard the familiar sound of upbeat electric rhythms and horribly overacted lines of Fury Fighters, a classic 1v1 fighting game. You move away from Kyle and turn into the living room where you see your little brother and Ike on the couch, hyper-focused on the game ahead of them. "Did you go deaf suddenly or were you just ignoring me?"

"I was ignoring you," Weston says, bluntly. His hair is an untamed mess and the collar of his wrinkled tee is stretched out. He doesn't even look back at you but Kyle cracks a smile at his words.

"C'mon shrimp, we gotta go," You say, crossing your arms.

He lets out a groan "Can I stay like thirty more minutes?"

You shake your head "Nah, Kyle's cologne is giving me a headache."

Ike snorts a laugh and glances back at his brother, his smile falls when he looks at you; he's putting on his tough guy persona. He clears his throat and deepens his voice in the slightest "What's up?" It was clear that the little brother had a crush on you though no one brought it up, you could tell it bothered Weston.

"Hey, Ike," You give him a tight-lipped smile, watching as he turns back to the TV, fingers clicking over the controller aggressively. "You can finish this round and we're out."

"Yes!" Weston says "Thanks, love you," He says with haste, thinking that it'll butter you up.

You plop yourself on the carpeted floor in front of the couch to watch the match play out. Ike was playing as Tempest, a mage who was wise and old, a long white beard yet he somehow had an absolutely shredded pixel body. Weston was playing Sable, a pink-haired woman in a short nurse's uniform who used surgical tools as weapons, she was your go-to back when you still played Fury Fighters with your friends. You would refuse to play as a man because it breached your pre-teen code of feminism. Watching them play made you feel nostalgic.

Kyle leans his elbows on the back of the couch, hands clasped together to watch the game, the same as you. "Kick his ass, Weston," Kyle says, rooting for your brother, purely to annoy his.

"Hey!" Ike exclaims though he doesn't move his unwavering gaze from the game "Whose side are you on?"

"Smoke him, Ike!" You say, a little louder than intended to balance out the cheering section.

Sheila always kept the household neat which was a miracle with Ike and Weston always running around, recently she had taken to a love of houseplants and had at least one in every corner of the home. There were framed pictures strung up on every single wall without fail, lots of the family, Sheila's wedding day, and a collection of you and Kyle actually getting along when you were kids. There's one of the two of you playing under a sprinkler in rain boots, another of you standing and smiling brightly by a snowman you made, and a picture of Kyle covering all of your little scrapes in Spider-Man band-aids. In every photo of you after the age of seven, you were with the rest of your families on opposite ends, as far away from each other as you could get.

You look back to the TV where Ike's character, Tempest summons the dead with his staff, grey decaying hands rise from the 2D ground and drag Sable down. "Fuck!" Weston yells, panic quickly spreading across his face, his eyes shoot back and forth frantically from the controller to the TV.

Sable jumps back up and readies herself into a fighting stance, Tempest moves his staff, a green diamond on the end, horizontally and jabs Sable in the stomach over and over until she rolls back to the ground. Ike has a huge grin on his face, shaggy black hair framing his pale features, he desperately needed a haircut but for now, he was relishing in watching Sable's health bar move down.

"By the elements, I shall prevail!" Calls out Tempest, his voice actor had really put his all into making him sound deep and gruff. Ike randomly spams the buttons, sending out an erratic combo. The characters were fighting in the center of a dark alley, blue and red lights flashing every few minutes.

Sable pulls a long scalpel out of her thigh-high socks and charges towards Tempest, slashing him. When Tempest's health bar falls, Sable speaks out a voice line "Every wound has a remedy," Her sultry voice makes you cringe just the slightest, you hadn't remembered her to sound so sensual.

Tempest rises back up, jumps toward Sable and greets the character with a heavy uppercut, sending her flying through the air. You find your fingers digging into the carpet, you had hoped that Sable would win just from the fact that you used to play as her. You almost wanted to grab the remote from your brother's hand and show him how to play as her, you had memorized all of her combos and moves, and they became muscle memory to you. "You're demise is written in the stars!" The buff wizard raises his hands to the sky, gearing up to cast one final blow.

In the midst of this, Sable jumps up, pulls a bone saw out from behind her back and slices Tempest's head clean off before he can finish casting his spell. Ike drops his controller, moving his hand to grab his hair, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock while he watches his character's health bar plummet to zero. The wizard's head rolls around on the pixel ground before Sable picks it up and kisses it "Nurse's orders: Stay down," She says before drop-kicking the head out of frame. A title card covers up the scene that reads 'It's a wrap!’

"Fuck yeah!" Weston says, giving Kyle a firm high five. He looked happier than you had seen him all week, middle school was kicking his ass and you had to pull some time aside almost every night to help him with algebra. You would've scolded him for playing video games instead of studying for his social studies test if you hadn't been doing the same at his age.

"How the hell did you do that?" Ike's head whips to look at his friend who just shrugs.

You push yourself off the floor, giving your brother's hair a little tussle "Let's go, shrimp."

With a groan Weston up to slip his shoes on at the rack, "See you tomorrow, Ike," He grabs his bag where it sits by the coat stand. Kyle hurdles himself over the couch, taking Weston's place on the sofa and picking up the free controller to play "Bye Kyle!" He says, lacing up his sneakers.

Kyle looks over the couch and at him with a smile "See you later buddy."

The second you think Weston is looking away you stick up the middle finger to the red-headed boy across from you but it surely didn't go unnoticed "Why are you flipping Kyle off?" Weston asks, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks up at you.

You drop your hand "I'm not, I was waving at him." You lie, trying to form a cover-up. You place a hand between his shoulder blades to guide him out the door.

"You're sweaty," He comments.

"Thanks, I had no idea," You open the door and close it behind you before Kyle can say anything to your brother's remark. It's already colder than when you entered the house and you race to get to the car before you get a chill.

Weston hops into the passenger seat, scrunching up his nose at the music you're playing "Can you put on Lil Shovel?" He asks. It was one of the many rappers he had attempted to imitate. He thought they were cool for decking themselves out in designer brands and sticking dollar bills into women's thongs in music videos.

"I'm not playing that shit," You start the car and turn out of the driveway.

"Why?"

"Because it makes me want to hammer nails into my ears," You answer, eyes focused in the road while you glide through the suburban street. "Listen to Eminem or something."

"Dad doesn't like Eminem."

You wrinkle your nose "Why?"

"Because he said that thing about the gerbil."

Recognition hits you and you nod "Yeah, that checks out," Your dad was a pretty modest guy, he didn't care about anything overly vulgar. He basically mandated your life, he was the reason you were in so many extracurriculars and were the last person in your grade to get a phone, something Kyle would've teased you for if your parents weren't so similar.

"Can you drive me and Ike to the quarry on Friday?" Weston has one hand sticking out of the window moving it up and down like it was a plane, it was something you used to do before you were the one driving, a little mannerism he picked up off you.

"I have track practice and then I gotta help Heidi and Wendy with their fundraiser, sorry, shrimp," You take note of every house you pass, swearing you could put a name to every single one. You felt the fatigue hit you all at once, you knew that night your bed would become a casket and you would have to be pried from it like a floorboard. "Ask Kyle."

"We did, he has basketball practice."

"Bummer," You say. It had slipped your mind completely that he was on the team and you hated it and how your friends gushed about Kyle before catching themselves and sending you apologetic glances. "Guess you gotta bike then."

You remember when you were your brother's age, twelve years old and you came home every night at sunset with a new scrape to show for the adventure you set out on. You gave bruises out like gifts and collected them like stickers, some sort of pride when parents would silently judge you for having purple busted-up knees.

"Mhm," He nods "Hey, can we go to Burger King?"

"No," You say almost immediately "Mom's making dinner right now."

Weston scrunched up his nose "Yeah but she had the crock pot out on the counter when I left for school today," Nothing good came from your mother's crock pot. "Can we please get Burger King?"

"First of all, Mom will kill me if I load you up with more fast food, second of all, she's gonna make you eat her dinner anyways, so just be nice and tell her it's good."

"Ugh," He grumbles watching wistfully into the distance, his thoughts stuck on the combo he was craving. "I should've stayed at Ike's for dinner."

"Yeah, me too," News of the dreaded crock pot had only worsened your day. Sheila on the other hand was an incredible cook, as much as you loved your mom and the effort she put into her meals, nothing would compare to Sheila's brisket. The thought of it almost made your stomach grumble. If you lived with Broflovski's you would've weighed three hundred pounds more.

Your mind ricochets back and forth between going home or heading to Wendy's with the rest of your friends though the thought of being alone with tobacco burning your throat soothed you.

The drive from the Broflovski's to yours wasn't too long, truthfully, your brother was perfectly capable of walking. The sky transformed into a canvas of deepening shades, the last traces of sunlight giving way to the embrace of twilight. You stole glances at your brother, his animated chatter filling the car with warmth.

You park the car in the driveway behind your dad's car, he would surely yell at you to move it in the morning but that was a problem for future you and a decision you would regret making. You pull up on the street right in front of your house. Weston was quick to hop out of the car, he rushed across the lawn and waited by the front door for you to turn off the car, but you didn't, you just watched and waited for him to go inside.

"Are you coming?" Weston asked.

You stick your head out of the window "Tell Mom I'm stopping by Red's, I'll be back before dinner," Weston rolls his eyes at this, he didn't care for Red, since you started being friends with her you had even less time to spend with your brother. Nights of staying up late with Weston and playing Stardew Valley turned into you hanging out with your friend and getting high.

"Tell Rebecca to eat a dick!" Weston cups his hands around his mouth.

"I won't do that but good suggestion," You call back before stepping on the peddle and moving back down the familiar streets. It was just past six and there hadn't been anyone outside, everyone was tucked away in their respective home, warm lights from windows spilling into the darkening sky.

You didn't go to Red's, you just kept driving until you ended up at a gas station on the outskirts of town. It had long passed the dinner you promised to be home for, instead of eating the crock pot monstrosity, you opt for something with a sweeter taste, a cigarette and a bag of teriyaki beef jerky. You sat on the curb watching cars roll past, their headlights framing you like you were on stage. You just craved the aloneness you so rarely got.

You shuffle through the cafeteria line, undecided on what you want to eat but settling on one of those sugar-free drinks that are worse for you than just grabbing a regular soda for a drink. "Keep it moving, Junkie," Cartman says from beside you. God how he irked you, it was in his nature to be unbearable.

"What? Not like it's going anywhere, I'm more worried for the people in line behind you who have to eat crumbs."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" He asks adding a paper plate of ribs to his tray and then another.

"It means you're fat."

He shrugs "Doesn't bother me," Cartman had grown to be a little more self-aware, by a little I mean a very small smidgen.

"You're a fat-fat fatty, keep eating fatty," your voice was unwavering. You hadn't had too much of a problem with Cartman throughout school, sure he had been a dick but you never interacted enough for him to be on your radar until he started a rumour about you shooting up heroin in the janitors closet which led to him telling everyone you were a drug dealer. This cursed you with the nicknames of crash, popper, and of course, junkie. When it first happened you weren't even aware, you just sat confused about why everyone was adding your Snapchat and asking about buying stuff from you. Eventually, staff caught wind of this and it only got worse from there.

"Fuck you, crash," He sticks up a middle finger at you "You're a dyke."

You return the gesture "At least I get pussy, lard ass."

"I have tons of sex, you faggot."

"Your hand doesn't count," You say examining the food in the chafing dishes which looked surprisingly good for school food.

"I don't care if you're a girl, I will kick your ass," He starts to get in your face but you don't bother to acknowledge it, still looking through the food options.

"I bet if I pushed you over you would just keep rolling."

"Whatever bitch."

"Hurry up, butterball," Bebe cuts in front of Eric who has a look of pure seething rage on his face. She looks beautiful as always, blonde curly hair falling in perfect ringlets and framing her dainty face. She's wearing a red off-the-shoulders sweater and low-waisted jeans, it's such a simple outfit but Bebe manages to make it look unique and expensive.

"Fuck you, Bebe," he turns a middle finger to her, "Go shoot up with your little lezzy girlfriend." That was another rumour that he successfully sparked, that you and Bebe were secretly dating. The two of you found it funnier than the heroin thing and played into it on occasion.

"You're so fucking stupid," Bebe wrinkles her nose in distaste of the chubby kid in front of her "Don't crack the floor when you waddle over to your table, fat ass," She adds a yogurt parfait onto her tray and keeps moving down the line, you follow in suit.

The two of you hand the lunch lady your cafeteria card but your eye snags on something else entirely "Where's Wendy?"

Bebe looks in the same direction as you where your entire friend group sits, minus Wendy who you could've sworn was there only moments ago. Her tray still sat in front of her spot on the table "She's talking with Stan I think."

"What?" You look at the blonde text to you while you find your table "Are they getting back together or something?"

"She was saying she wanted to work things out with him last night, you'd know if you were there."

"Why didn't she tell me?" You furrow your eyebrows as you glance at Stan's regular table where he was also absent from. The second thing you noticed was how irritated Kyle seemed, likely because his best friend would be opting to spend time with Wendy again instead of him. Cartman plops himself down next to the ginger, only making Kyle more agitated. When Kyle looks away for a split second, Kenny steals food off his plate and blames it on Eric. “I would never steal food from a dirty Jew!” He says, voice carrying over every other conversation in the room.

"She might not have told because you can be a little-" Bebe searches around for a word that'll soften the message "Abrasive?"

"I'm not abrasive," You say as you sit yourself down at the cafeteria table, immediately met by curious glances from the rest of your friends. This made you question yourself. Had you been so blunt that your best friend didn't want to tell you what was going on in her life? Yes. You didn't know how else to be, it was wired into your system; born from the way you were raised, like a wild animal who fought for scraps, if you didn't kill, you wouldn’t eat. Your family wasn’t really complete, it was more like something like a mom who worked herself to rust and a dad who popped in and out like some kind of disappearing act.

No one bothers to dig deeper into your sentence, already enraptured in their conversation. "I wonder how Tolkien feels about it," Lola asks, leaning in a little to where Nelly sits on the other side of the table, seemingly hanging onto every word.

"I know!" Nelly says, unable to fight the smile that formed on her face every time she gossiped "Did you notice how he isn't sitting where he usually is." At this, everyone turns their heads to Tolkien's regular table, where he’s MIA from.

Halfway through sucking the meat off of his ribs, Cartman notices everyone at your table staring them down. He glances around the table before deciding that you are looking at him, barbeque sauce smeared over his mouth and down his fingers. "What the fuck are you looking at?" He calls out, now drawing the attention of the cafeteria to you and your friends who quickly avert their gazes back to their food.

You meet Kyles's eyes for just a moment, you can read loud and clear that he's annoyed Wendy's back in the picture and she'll be poaching his best friend from him. Despite the act he's trying to portray of being indifferent, you can tell there's a storm brewing beneath his green eyes.

In your pocket, your phone buzzes and you look at it.

McWhoremick: what was that about?

You: Cartman looking rancid

McWhoremick: fair

McWhoremick: wanna hang later?

You: fo sho

You: junkyard?

McWhoremick: yup

McWhoremick: see ya :P

"What's that?" Red peaks down at your phone from next to you, her chin resting on your shoulder "Is it Wendy?"

"She's been weird lately," Jenny says, she doesn't look up from her mac and cheese, just pushes it around absentmindedly with her fork.

"Probably because all of you are talking about her like she's not our friend," Heidi peeps up for the first time in the conversation. You're a little surprised that she's eating lunch with you, in recent days she's been so busy with sustainability club that it's taken up all of her lunch breaks.

Heidi was right as usual. It didn't feel right to be talking about Wendy when she was twenty metres away, it didn't feel right to talk about her at all. The group fell quiet at this, trying to search for another topic that didn't involve speaking poorly of your friend.

"So," Red starts "Who's excited for the basketball game?"

You really weren't, you had no intentions of going though you were sure your parents would make you go to support Kyle. "I think I'll go to watch Kyle," Nichole comments. Your head whips to look at her immediately, it only made sense that she was over Tolkien after what happened with Wendy but you hadn't expected her to go for Kyle.

"Uh oh," Annie says, a small smile playing on her face. Lately, she had taken good care of her curls, a stark difference from the frizzy mess that was stuck on her head all through middle school.

"Nichole," You say, staring her down "Are you okay?"

"Sorry to say this," Bebe pipes up, not one hundred percent tuned into the conversation "He actually isn't the piece of shit that you make him out to be."

"You don't-

"Know him like I do?" Heidi finishes your sentence for you. Something you had repeated over and over again when trying to get your point across that he was evil and no one could see it but you.

"I'd do it," Lola shrugs and your face contorts in disgust.

"Ew," You say with haste, fighting the urge to gag on your food. "Do you guys realize that he's ginger under that hat?"

Everyone is unsurprised at your disdain for him, even though you tried not to talk about him so you didn't seem obsessed, every now and then, the start of a rant would slip out and that would turn into you rambling on and on about every little annoying detail about him. You wondered for a brief moment if he did the same when walking about you.

"What is it that you hate about him anyway?" Red asks.

You rack your brain for a truly solid reason you can't say that it irritated you how Kyle ran the opposite way of you on the trail on your nightly run, it was the most dreaded part of the day, brushing past him and pretending not to notice. You also couldn't delve into the fact that he always had a bored, unimpressed expression on his face when he talked to you. "Everything." You answer "I hate everything about him."

"Okay gang," Mr Waterman claps his hands together once everyone is finally seated. "I know we're getting close to the end of the year and it's exciting but there is always work to be done." He was in his thirties, a little on the shorter side, with brown hair, glasses, and lean for a teacher though it made sense since he doubled as the basketball coach. He had tried his best to be funny though his jokes usually fell flat but you found yourself laughing out of pity like it was second nature.

Wendy sat next to you, you hadn't pressed her about Stan (despite wanting to) and she hadn't brought it up. Kyle sits next to a guy whose name slipped through the cracks of your mind and stays completely silent while the teacher gives his spiel about hard work and effort.

"This will be our final seating change for the year, so if you're next to someone you don't like know it'll be over by the end of June," Mr Waterman sits himself at his desk dead in front of every lab table, shares his computer screen to the projector, showing the new seating arrangments "Alright, here are your lab partners until semester end."

You scan the whiteboard for your name and your breath hitches in your throat when you see it next to Kyles. Kyle whips his head to look at you, your gazes matching in utter terror. You had relished in the fact that You had gone the entire semester without talking to Kyle a single time in biology class.

There weren’t desks in the science labs but black tables built for two people since they worked out better for experiments, there you were stuck at the back of the class with the ginger demon spawn.

"Mr Waterman?" You raise your hand but speak before he even calls on you "You need to move me or I'll kill myself."

"Woah," He puts both of his hands out "Let's not joke about that-

"I'm not joking," You cut him off, tone dead serious. Wendy tugs at the hem of your shirt, trying to get you to sit back down, you just cast her a glance before looking back to the short teacher. "I will kill myself."

"Can you and Kyle please come up here so I can talk to you," At Mr. Waterman's words, Kyle shoots you a malicious glare.

"When you cause a scene about not wanting to sit next to someone it can be hurtful," Mr Waterman addresses you, his tanned hands grasped together. Bless his heart, Kyle thought he was getting in trouble and it would put a dent into his perfect record, the kid never even missed a day of school. You and Kyle stand side by side, in front of Mr Waterman's desk, careful to keep a distance between you. "Think about how Kyle feels right now-

"I feel like I wanna slit my wrists." He deadpans, face unreadable as ever.

"Do you guys need someone to talk to?" Mr Waterman furrows his eyebrows, lowering his voice.

"No," You say, crossing your arms “Not unless it's to get a gun so I can blow my brains out."

"Okay," He repositions himself to sit taller "Can you please tell me why you don't want to sit next to each other, I'm sure we could work this out." You waste no time trying to get yourself away from Kyle, listing off all of his little habits that annoy you. Kyle, on the other hand, bites his tongue. He didn't want his teacher to think poorly of him, not when there was still a little over a month left of the worst year of school he'd ever put himself through.

"Kyle?" You furrow your eyebrows, waiting expectantly for him to go off on how you were disruptive and rude but he sort of just stood there. For a brief moment, you thought he was having a stroke.

"It's fine," At his words, your mouth goes ajar and your eyes widen. You had thought that the two of you stood in solidarity for one thing, you wanted to get away from each other.

"Is it really?" You say through gritted teeth.

"Yeah," He looks at you then back to Mr Waterman "It's just a childhood rivalry, we're just being immature," It took a lot for him to swallow his pride. Kyle just knew he had to get through June and then senior year would be smooth sailing.

"Well," Mr Waterman says and you can tell he's prepping himself for a speech "It seems to me like the two of you could benefit from this seating arrangement. When you get jobs you won't get along with everyone you work with-

"We both have jobs already," You cut him off and Kyle shuffles awkwardly where he stands while the rest of the class chats idly and waits for the lesson to start.

Mr Waterman casts you a look and clears his throat before picking up where he left off "And I understand that sometimes, personalities clash, but we're a team here, and teamwork requires cooperation and understanding. You both have so much potential, but that potential can only be realized when you learn to work together, to support each other, and to lift each other up, rather than tear each other down."

Kyle's mind must've been somewhere else completely, it was like he was in airplane mode, nodding along to everything Mr Waterman was saying. Though you could feel boredom creeping up, fighting yourself to pay attention to the genuinely useless pep talk.

"I want you to take a moment and think about what it means to be part of a team," Mr Waterman urged, his voice gentle yet persuasive. "Think about the strength that comes from unity, the power that comes from collaboration, and the joy that comes from shared success. Both of you are strong students and I can see you doing very well working together on labs and assignments, okay?"

"Yup," You nod your head, giving a thumbs up so he would excuse you and this would blow over.

"Okay," Kyle says.

A smile forms on Mr Waterman's face, he leans further back into his desk chair. "I think I can sense a friendship forming here, now go take your seats."

You laugh awkwardly, quickly brushing past Kyle to sit in your new spot at the back of the class. You were stuck sitting next to Kyle and behind Eric Cartman, how did he get into AP biology? You weren't one hundred percent sure though you heard Isla say that it was a misplacement that never got corrected.

Once again, Mr Waterman calls the class to capture their attention. Writing about the new unit on the whiteboard in a red dry-erase pen that was squeaky and running out of ink. You ruffle through your backpack, trying to find your binder while everyone else is rapidly taking notes. You pull out a stack of textbooks and some personal reading for English, finally finding your science binder.

"Why are you reading Mein Kampf?" He looks at the book that rests on top of the stack, it's old and beaten up and smells a bit like stale orange juice, the cover holds the jarring image of Adolf Hitler.

"Because I'm racist," You say, sarcastically but Kyle doesn't pick up on this and seems a little taken aback "Joking, obviously, it's for history."

He averts his eyes back to the whiteboard. Mr. Waterman speaks briefly on physiology, before wiping the board clean and unfreezing the projector where he set up a slide show. As most science teachers do, he clicks through the slide show and waits for his students to take notes, answering the few questions that the kids have.

"Shit," You mutter as the teacher skips to the next slide before you could finish copying what was on it. You glance at Kyle "Uh, did you write all of that down?”

Wordlessly, he pushes his paper towards you to copy it, he keeps his eyes trained on the board. His writing was neat, it looked like it could've been a font, each word spaced out almost precisely from the next. Cartman snakes his head around and then moves his entire body when he sees the two of relatively civil.

"Jews got a boner for the junkie," Cartman says, a little louder than intended. Next to him, David looks beyond annoyed, he’s gripping his pencil so tightly that you wouldn’t be surprised if he broke it.

"Shut up, fatass," You and Kyle manage to say in sync before you look at each other in disgust that your thoughts matched up.

"I fucking hate high school." You say under your breath, turning to look back at your notes and pushing his back toward him.

"Me too," Kyle says and you're actually on the same page for a change, you're not sure if you like it.

A/N: I hate this but here it is anyway 😔 I promise it gets more interesting. Open to head cannons and requests rn. Thanks for reading!

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