Muse

I watch the brush delicately grasped in-between his slender fingers. They clasp onto it loosely, allowing it to take full range of motion as its bristles dance freely across the pure white canvas, staining its purity with deep shades of blue and red.

"Stan?" his melodious voice calls. "Stan?" it repeats.

Oh yeah. That's me.

"What?" I snap out of my trance.

He blinks at me and smirks a bit. "Dude, you're not gonna be able to copy me here like you do in every other class. Do your stupid painting."

I look down at my blank canvas and sigh tiredly. I hate art class. I really do. Myself and Kyle only did it to take up another elective class where homework was at a minimum. "What are we painting again?" I ask.

He rolls his eyes and sets his brush down, letting it splotch the black tabletop with a bright cerulean dot. He leans his narrow chin into his palm as his elbow rests on the table and he raises a skinny cinnamon eyebrow at me. "Are you serious? Stan, the goddamn teacher talked about it for like, an hour."

"It was ten minutes," a voice next to him laughs softly. I look past him to his other side and see Kenny looking at us amusedly.

"Felt like an hour," Kyle muttered.

"You just don't appreciate the arts unless there's a star of David and some dollar signs around it, Jewboy," the voice across from us speaks up. I look over to Cartman, who's staring at us with his usual pissed-off expression.

I can practically hear Kyle's perfect magnolia teeth grinding together in frustration. "And YOU don't like it unless it involves food, Fatass!" he growls.

"At least I don't feel all warm and fuzzy from pictures of the crucifixion!" he retorts.

"Fuck off!"

"Mr. Broflovski!" The teacher's voice arises from the side of the room. He looks over sheepishly, his cheeks turning that trademark carmine that makes Kyle's face his own.

"Sorry, Mrs. Klota," he says softly.

"Watch your tongue," she warns before going back and grading papers. He looks back at Cartman and gives him his glare that sends even the mightiest to their knees. It works well for Cartman as he merely flips him off and turns back to his canvas.

"Self-expression," he mutters as he turns to look at me.

"Huh?" I blink.

He sighs impatiently. "Self expression, Stan. Our paintings are on self expression."

"How do we do that?"

"Dude, were you listening at all?" Kyle asks.

"He was too busy staring at you," Kenny replies casually, adding a streak of prussian to his art.

"What?" Kyle looks between the two of us confusedly. I try my best to hide the blush that I damn well know is creeping up my cheeks. I hate Kenny and his observations.

"God, Jew," Cartman speaks up again. "It's obvious Stanny has a boner for you."

"T-that's not true!" I manage to stammer.

"Shut the fuck up, Cartman," Kyle snarls under his breath, trying to not invoke the wrath of the blonde menace only feet away grading at her desk.

"What?" he looks up and blinks innocently. "I know it's true. Kenneh knows it. Everybody knows except you, Kahl."

"Cartman, stop it," Kyle warns him again. I look over at my best friend and gulp. I can't tell if he believes him or not.

"He just wants to take your little Jew ass home and ram it until you can't walk," he taunts.

Kyle grabs the stirring spoon from a container of paint in front of him and pulls back, releasing it and sending a large dollop of lilac straight into Cartman's forehead.

"AY! STUPID JEW!" he shouts, standing from his seat.

"Mr. Cartman!" Klota's voice rises again. "What have I told you about calling Kyle that?"

"Don't?" he shrugs. "Don't see why not. It's not like it's not true."

She sighs and massages her forehead. "Go clean up, come back, sit down, and do your assignment, Mr. Cartman."

"Yeah, yeah," he rolls his eyes. As he walks past us for the door, he grabs Kyle's jacket and yanks him off the chair onto the floor. He yelps in pain as his head collides with the cold tile beneath him. I dive off my chair along with Kenny and we stare down at him, vaguely hearing Cartman getting lectured once more.

"Ky?" I ask, noticing he hasn't opened his eyes as of yet. "Kyle?!" I shake his shoulder.

"Wake up, Dude!" Kenny adds. I feel myself panic slightly until I see him slowly creaking open his jade eyes with a low groan.

"Thank god," I breathe out.

"Dude, are you okay?" Ken asks him as we help him to his feet. He sits back on his stool and lays his head down on the desk.

"I'm going to kill him," he growls, massaging the back of his head. Ken goes and starts rubbing his neck and I feel a twinge of jealousy passing through my veins. I'm his super best friend, not Kenny. I should be the one caressing his apricot skin like that! Kenny seems to notice my disposition and lowers his hand smirking and gesturing for me to take over. I do so, gently taking my right hand and working on the back of his neck. We've done this for each other a million times before, so I doubt that Cartman's comments will shine through for him or anything...hopefully.

He moans very quietly and I feel him relaxing into my touch. I lick my lips subconsciously and look over at Kenny, who's watching me in amusement. "Just throw him on the damn table and fuck him, Marsh," he grins perversely.

"Kenny!" Kyle raises his head and glares at him.

He just smiles back widely and shrugs. "What?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" I blink at him, my hand still atop Kyle's skin, though I can't concentrate enough to continue rubbing.

"What's wrong with me?" he smirks. "A better question is what's wrong with our Jew over here," he pokes Kyle's cheek pointedly.

"Whaddya mean by that?" Kyle frowns.

"I mean how is someone so nerdy so fucking oblivious?" he rolls his eyes and picks his brush back up.

"To what?"

"To Stan wanting in your pants, duh." He speaks like it's the most obvious thing on Earth. It probably is. I pretty much stalk Kyle anymore. He never really seems to notice anything out of place about it though, so I just continue to do it. He gets my company and I get to watch the object of my fantasies without suspicion. Everybody wins.

Until a certain hoodrat and a fatass get in the way that is...

Kyle looks over at me and raises his brow. "Is that true, Dude?" he blinks in that innocent way that he does. Goddamn, I hate it when he does this to me! It's too fucking cute for his own good and I tend to say more than I want to.

But nows my chance. Nows my opportunity. Two years of crushing and I finally have the moment to speak up, to tell him how I feel. He knows I'm gay, I know he's bi. This is great, I just have to say something. Maybe he feels the same way...maybe...only one way to find out...

"Psh, no," I chuckle.

I'm too much of a pussy for my own good.

"Oh...okay," he nods slowly, then looks back at Kenny. "Don't make up lies, Ken," he lectures. "No need to embarrass him like that."

I can't help but raise my own brow at this. Embarrass? Why would that embarrass me? Oh well. I continue massaging his neck and look back at my still-pearl canvas. Damn thing needs to paint itself.

"So...how do we do this?" I ask him again.

"Just paint what you feel," he explains. "Just find something that's on your mind and let it out onto the canvas. Not too hard, Dude." he picks his brush back up, dipping it into some slate acrylic and painting a smooth line across the board. I watch him for a bit more before picking up my own brush and staring at it. "Dude, you're gonna need your hand to paint," he points out, looking up from his work for a moment. I look at the hand working on his neck and I shrug.

"Nah, I'm cool like this."

"You're painting's bad enough with your right hand," he smirks. "You don't need to try being ambidextrous on my account."

"I'm fine," I smile back. "I don't even know what to paint."

"Don't think about it, just go," he shrugs. "I have no idea what the fuck I'm painting," he gestured towards his canvas. I look at it with my head cocked. It's filled with somber blues and fiery tangerines and cardinals. He has a black and jagged streaking crossing through the middle, bordered by thin dodger blue line. Kyle's always been an abstract artist whereas my paintings make the attempt to look like something plausible.

Note the word 'attempt'.

"What's he painting?" I nod my head sharply towards the blonde sitting on his other side.

He glances over and looks back at me, his eyes having that look of 'not again' blazing through them. "Women. What else?"

"Hey, I have a very high appreciation for the female form," the orange-clad boy sniffs.

"You have a high appreciation for their boobs and what lies below the waistline," Kyle rolls his perfectly shaded dartmouth green eyes.

"Whereas your interests only go to things protruding from the waistline," Cartman pokes his head back up between us. Kyle growls and pushes him away and my hand falls from his neck, much to my distaste.

"Shut up, Fatass," he grumbles. "You're lucky you didn't give me a fucking concussion or I'd press charges on your ass."

"You Jews," he shakes his head. "Always looking for the easy money."

"Mr. Cartman...," Klota says in a warning tone. "Go back and paint."

"Yes ma'am," he nods. "I was just apologizing to poor Kahl here," he ruffles his soft saffron curls.

"Don't touch me!"

"See? He's under a lot of stress," he sticks his lip out in a fake pout. "Poor boy..."

"I'm two months younger than you!" he retorts. "Don't talk about me like I'm a freaking kid!"

"Tsk, tsk, Kahl," he shakes his head again. "Was what I said really that hurtful?"

"If I slam my elbow backwards, you'll know something really hurtful," he sneers. Cartman steps back as to avoid that scenario. Good call. Kyle can really do some damage if he means it. The fatass walks back over to his stool across from Kyle and continues working on his painting.

"You okay?"

I shoot my head towards Kyle, who's staring at me with concern outlining his delicate features.

I nod. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just distracted."

"By your ass," Kenny continues for me.

"Ken, watch it," Kyle warns.

"Stan's doing that enough already," he looks up and smirks at us both. "Though you do have a very feminine ass...would you mind if I used you for my painting?"

Kyle's cheeks begin to blaze firebrick and I swear I feel my eye twitching. "Fuck you, Ken!"

He sniggers and looks over at me. "Well that'd be taking Stan's opportunity to be your first. Don't wanna miss that, do ya?"

"Don't make me hurt you," he says through clenched teeth.

"Ooh, feisty Jew-boy," he winks. "Stan, you know how to pick em. If I swung like that, I'd be all over Kyle too," he slides an arm around his narrow shoulders and smiles saucily at him. Kyle just looks back, anger and a bit of nausea set in his expression.

"Get. Off."

"Sorry," he backs up, holding up his hands defensively. "Forgot that inappropriate touching is for Stan and Stan alone."

I can't help but smile at him. He's a jackass, but he wants for me and Ky to get together just as much as I do. He told me that forever ago. All he wants is for us to be happy. Nice kid. Maybe I won't kill him for this; making Kyle recline away from him brings him closer to me. Gotta love it.

"Dude," Kyle looks back at me after sighing heavily. "Do your painting."

"I don't know what to do," I whine pathetically. I really don't like just jumping into a project, I like to plan it first. This is perhaps the one scenario where myself and Kyle switch views. I think art needs an outline. Kyle thinks that art is just a way for you to talk through acrylics.

I'm starting to think he's right. His projects are always a lot better than mine. Damn him.

"You know what to do," he rolls his eyes. He picks up my brush in one hand and grabs my hand with his other. I can practically feel the blush crawling up my neck. He puts the brush in my hand and pulls away, much to my dismay. "There," he says. "Now paint."

"I don't know what I'm feeling, though..." I shrug.

"If anything you should be feeling retarded for trying to get answers from me for an art class," he smirks. "Just go, Stan. I mean...what else can I tell you?"

"Tell me what to draw," I urge.

He laughs softly. I love his laugh. That gorgeous, husky laugh that I've heard so many times and never tire of hearing. "Well, what are you thinking about?" he smiles at me.

"Uh...," I blink.

"You really have to think about what you're thinking about?" he raises his brow.

"I'm not as smart as you," I pout.

"You don't need to be smart to read your own thoughts, Stan." He said my name. I love it when he says my name. He makes it staccato, unlike other people who drag the 'a' out for an unnecessarily long period of time. I wish I had the ability to make people tremble at my voice. Damn lack of sexiness.

"And you're pretty stupid with him, Kahl," Cartman's voice pops back up. Goddammit, doesn't he realize I'm busy ogling? I glance over at him and it would appear that he knows that that's exactly what I'm doing. "He's obviously off in dreamland getting you to suck his balls," he rolls his eyes.

Whoa! My mind was totally not there!...That usually happens at night. I do have some level of self control; hence the reason I haven't 'thrown him on the table and fucked him' as Kenny so eloquently phrased it. Damn it's tempting though.

"There ya go, Stan," Kenny adds, gazing my way. "Use Kyle as your muse," he pokes him with his paintbrush. "Paint what you imagine sex with him would be like."

"Ken, get your brain out of your dick," Kyle spits at him. Take notice of how he didn't dispute the idea. Me likey. Me likey very much.

He looks at me tiredly. "Have you thought of something yet?"

"I think so," I nod with a smile.

"Good," he grins back, turning back to his own work.

I look at my canvas and smile down at it's purity. My perfect model. Its honeydew shade glowing softly in the fluorescent lights above us. Absolute perfection; about to be marred by my presence. All I can do is pretend that it's for the best, I suppose.

I grip my brush tighter and dip it into a canister of napier green. I watch as I pull it back out and it drizzles the excess back into the can before I slam it down onto my canvas, drawing a curve across the board. I continue with that color, swishing the lines heavily down the canvas, completely overshadowing the white. I coat one half of my board, looking at it with a cocked head before deciding my next move.

I place my brush into the water cup beside me, briskly swirling the contents around, the paint producing a fern shade within the glass. I draw it out and dab it on a paper towel before eyeing my choice of color once again. I decide on a rich electric blue shade, mirroring the same effect that I made with the green. Before long, I'm staring at a blue and green board, completely devoid of the white sheen it held before. I stand and grab another empty water cup.

"Where're you going?" Kyle asks.

"Getting water," I shrug. I walk over to the sink and fill it, bobbing my head to music going through my head. I sigh, finding myself humming along to some Bowling for Soup song I haven't heard for years. Something about lusting for some unattainable chick. Never mind the gender difference. Damn meaningful songs.

I walk back over to our table and plop down next to Kyle once again. I dip my finger in the water and gently seesaw back and forth in-between the two colors on my board, mixing them into a gentle fade into each other. A neat trick that Kyle himself taught me not too long ago.

"Making a map or something, Dude?" Kyle cocks his head at me, nodding towards my picture, looking like land and sky meeting.

"I...I dunno...," I raise my own brow at it.

"Painting from the heart are we?" he smirks lightly.

"Nah, he's painting from his groin," Kenny interjects. He leans across Kyle's front and points at my canvas with the end of his paint brush. "See? Blue equals him. Green equals you. Here," he swept along the fading effect, "is where you two have sex and you have your orgasms."

"Dude, sick!" Kyle scrunches his nose in disgust and tries to push him away from his chest. He stays still though, cuddling into his small torso and batting his lashes at him.

"You know you love my anecdotes."

"I'm amazed that you're able to use that word in everyday conversation," he rolls his eyes.

"What? I do have some degree of intelligence, thank you."

"Most of it revolving around the top fifty ways to please your girl," he shakes his head.

"Knowledge is knowledge no matter what it is. Don't you doubt me, Broflovski," he pokes his nose.

Kyle just sighs irritably and pushes him off and away. "Please stop molesting me. It's a bit disturbing."

"Well, Stan won't, so I have to fill in the gap," he smiles toothily. I just snigger and turn back to my work, grabbing my brush once again and dipping it into a tub of peach. I smear it onto the paper plate I have beside me before I turn back and stick the tip in a can of orange peel and mix it into my peach to darken it slightly. I draw a good sized circle upon the green background and then grab a smaller brush. I dip it into my clean water and start smearing the edges of the circle.

"That a shuriken?" Cartman looks over and raises his brow.

"Fuck if I know," I shrug, not removing my eyes from the task at hand. I finish and stick it back in the water and begin to clean off my other brush. I can't help but notice how Kyle's eyes keep coming over and staring at my painting. He's usually fairly focused on his own work, so why he's watching me, I have no idea. I just try to ignore his godlike gaze and dip the brush into a tangerine shade. I paint a splotch upon the blue region and begin to spread it out as I had the peach beforehand.

"Okay, what the hell is that?" Ken asks. I looked up and noticed that all three of them were watching me with cocked brows.

"Don't you have your own work to be doing?" I ask.

"We're pretty much done, Dude," Kyle states. "Ours just need to dry and we'll start on our second coats. But what exactly is that?"

I look down at my work and shrug. "I dunno. You're Mr. Deep and Insightful, you tell me."

He stared at it thoughtfully for a moment. "Hm...I...I dunno..."

"Well I could've come up with that, Kyle," Ken smirks.

"Shut up, Ken. You guess at it," he scowls at him.

He looks at it carefully, leaning past Kyle to get a better look. "Right there," he points to the peach. "That there...that's totally cum."

"Oh Jesus Christ," Kyle slams his forehead into his palm.

"Well then what the hell's the orange?" Cartman raises his brow.

Ken strokes his chin for a moment before breaking into a wide grin. "Kyle's pubes."

"Alright, that's enough," Kyle snarls pushing him back. He flies back fast enough that he starts to fall off of his stool. Kyle panics as he sees what he caused and leans over to catch him. He grabs onto his jacket and they both fall to the ground, Kyle landing right on top of our perverted friend and in turn making my jealously spike again. Kyle groans and pushes himself off of him a bit.

"Mr. Broflovski, what are you doing?"

"We fell."

"Well get up and work," Klota scowls at him, turning back to her papers.

"Don't tell me you killed Kenny again, Ky," I shake my head.

"It's not my fault if I did," he replies, trying to fully sit. "He's a bastard."

"Yeah, but I'm a bastard with a hot Jewboy on top of me," Ken cracks his eyes open and smirks. He grasps Kyle's hips and winks at him. "Didn't know I was your type."

"Trust me, you're not," he rolls his eyes monotonously.

"Hey, I fit one of your qualifications," he retorts.

"And what would that be?"

He flutters his lids, "why my dazzling blue eyes of course."

He just had to go there. Kyle turns slightly and his eyes flicker towards me. "Ken, what's your damn obsession with that lately?"

"I never said Stan in particular, you're just drawing conclusions all on your own."

"Boys," Klota warns, "off the floor."

"We're letting the creativity flow through us, Ms. Klota," Ken looks up at her and smiles.

"Do it in your stool, Mr. McCormick."

He sighs. "Fine...," he slowly releases his hold on Kyle, who glides to his feet, his ebony and pearl Converse squeaking on the spattered tile floor. He holds out his hand and pulls Kenny to his feet, only to slap him against the head.

"Stop being a dick, Ken."

"Only once you let Stan suck yours or vice versa."

"Ugh...," he rolls his eyes and plops back into his seat, leaning his head into his palm and very deliberately not looking towards the blonde. I shoot him a smile for nothing better to do, dipping my freshly cleaned brush into a tub of candy apple red. Similarly to the tangerine and peach, I make my dot on the blue area and spread out the lines, although as opposed to the other two, whose spikes reached counterclockwise, I decide to switch it up a bit a reverse them. I stretch out the bottommost streak, letting it reach towards the spot of saffron. I take my water brush and blend the two stars together with a long band between the two.

"See?" Ken throws his head over Kyle's shoulder and rests his chin on the narrow bone frame. "Red equals Stan."

"Ken, get off it already!" Kyle groans.

"Stan gets off on you," he smirks, nuzzling into his neck.

This is getting ridiculous. I bring my brush up and jab it at Kenny's face, leaving a bright red streak across his lips. "And that's why you shouldn't mess around so much," I smirk back at him. Kyle sniggers and even Cartman lets out a little snort while Ken looks caught between an indigent expression and laughing himself.

"You're just jealous of how I get who I want," he sticks his tongue out at me, his crystal eyes flickering towards the redhead he's currently situated on. I narrow my eyes just slightly and he smiles superiorly as he wipes off my assault. I just scoff and turn back to my brush. I take more orange and smear it onto my plate. I reach across Kyle and Ken and grab some pink onto my brush.

"See? Pink is for fags," Cartman snickers.

"Shut the fuck up and let him paint, Fatass," Kyle furrows his brow at him. I can't help but smile at him defending me like that. Sort of. He never really denied the gay thing though. Then again, he knows it's true, so he doesn't need to deny the facts.

I mix my chosen hues together and come up with a coral shade. I go down to the green and start painting it in jagged streaks stretching upwards. I end up with two sections looking like fire.

"Looks like a flame," Kyle comments.

I look at him and nod softly. God I love that. We're always on the same wavelength. Except for the current situation our blonde comrade has been picking at all class. He obviously has no freaking idea what I'm thinking. He's either really dense or in total denial. Either one is an acceptable Kyle-like behavior. I dip my bristles into a persian red and paint more lines inside of the set of corals. I look up for my next color, finding it in Kyle's hand.

"Need this?" he smiles.

I grin back and accept it from his slim fingers. "Thanks, Dude," I nod. I swirl my brush in a bright lemon tone and smear it just under the red. I reach over and take my water brush back up, cleanly slicing it through the yellow and red upwards towards the outside of my flame. As I finish, I sit back and cock my head at it a bit.

"Looks good, Dude," Ken inputs, taking a sip of Kyle's water bottle. He recaps it and tries to hand it back to him.

"Nah," he waves at him dismissively. "You don't have anything, I'll buy something at lunch."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he shrugs. "It's water. I think I'll make it another period without it."

"Are you sure you can handle the pressure?" I smirk.

"We'll just have to see, won't we?" he replies smartly. I can't help but smile at him for that. Ken annoys the piss out of him, but he's always extending his hand for our downtrodden companion, no matter how many times Ken's insisted for us to just let him wallow in his poor misery. Kyle never lets him have that pleasure.

I look back towards my painting and frown a bit. "This just seems...weird," I comment aloud.

Kyle leans over, his head practically on my shoulder to share my view. "Hm. I think that maybe you need something in this area," he points to the left-hand corner and trails down the side. "It's kinda..."

"Empty," I finish.

"Yeah," he nods.

"What should I put there?"

"I dunno," he shrugs, leaning back up to his previous position. "Just let it flow," he wriggles his fingers teasingly.

I feel a figure coming up behind me and I turn, finding myself staring the teacher in the face. "Very nice work, Stanley," she nods. My jaw almost drops in shock. She's never commented nicely on my projects before. "What emotion are you invoking?" she asks. I look back down at my painting and blink.

"I...I don't know..."

"How do you not know?" I can hear her small smile as she talks.

"He's just going with whatever he's feeling," Kyle shrugs.

"Is that what you did, Kyle?" she points to his canvas.

He shrugs again. "I dunno."

I find myself laughing and look at him and shake my head. He meets my gaze and just smiles sheepishly. "Kenneth," she sighs. "Why do all of your pictures have women in them?"

"Because chicks are hot," he replies smoothly. God, nothing stops this kid.

"Perhaps you need to find a new source of inspiration," she rubs her forehead a bit. "I'm sorry, but I can only grade so many paintings of breasts without it getting repetitive."

"But...they're hot," he re-emphasizes his point. I just roll my eyes with Kyle and we turn to stare at my picture again as Kenny and Klota engage in a banter on the need for more artistic view or some shit like that.

"Kahhlllll."

He sighs irritably and looks up across the table. "What, Cartman?"

"Can I have your sandwich?" he bats his eyes pathetically.

"Fuck you! You have your own damn food!"

"But...you gave Kenneh food..."

"Kenny isn't a total asshole like you are, you overinflated piece of crap!"

"But he's making fun of you," he drawls out in that damn whiny tone of his. Ken looks over at us as Klota moves back to her seat and narrows his gaze.

"I'm teasing, Fatass. I'm not making fun of him."

"What the fuck's the difference?!"

"I have a mission other than merely pissing him off when I'm teasing him unlike you, Dickhead."

"Hey, watch it, Poorboy!"

"Mission?" I cock my brow at the rambling blonde. He looks over at me and smiles in that perverse way that makes him who he is.

"Well, Stanley. I'm just trying to help get Kyle to bend over for you," he says innocently. Kyle growls and steals his water bottle back before slamming it back into his bag and crossing his arms.

"Fuck. Off." he warns him. Ken opens his mouth to retort but Kyle cuts him off, "and make any comment on my word choice and you'll regret it. There are exacter knives in this room and I know how to puncture your jugular." Kenny snapped his mouth shut and looked back towards his art as if the conversation had never happened.

"I thought you fucking Jews were supposed to be smart," Cartman rolls his eyes.

"I'm smarter than you, Fatass," he spits. And the rest of the school, but I suppose that's not important as of now.

"You wish," he rolls his eyes.

"Of fuck off," he flips him off smoothly. Cartman smirks, taking his paintbrush and flinging the remaining paint over onto us. I rub the back of my hand across my cheek, looking down at it to find a bright kelly green smeared across my skin.

"Ha, what now?" he challenges.

"You fuck! You got it on Stan's and my pictures!" he rubs some off of his forehead and glowers at him. I look down and low and behold, our canvases are splattered with tiny green droplets. I raise my brow and take my brush, pressing down the droplets into tear-shaped markings on my board. I have to admit, they look kinda cool in a way. I reach over and take the paint from Cartman's possession, dipping the very tip of the bristles down into the shade and bringing it back up. I continue the markings, overlaying them with varying pressures for different shades. I make them move in a flowing motion, leading a trail of tiny emerald specks across the blue background, looping down and around my red and orange stars.

"You should do a different color for the green," Ken suggests. I guess now that Kyle's disposition is fixated on someone else, he feels safer. I look across the array of paint in front of me as I rinse off my brush and bite my lip a bit. I opt for grasping a light blue and spooning a bit onto my plate. I put it back into place and grab the white as well, taking a tiny bit onto my cleaned utensil and swirling it into the tone. I start repeating the process of the green drops onto the hunter background, letting the brush swim on its own accord.

Kyle and Ken both watch me in interest as Cartman lazily flicks some paper wads at Butters across the room. I bite my tongue in concentration as my wrist seems to dance over the board, leaving colored speckles as it moves. I make a wavy line curving and covering the emptiness of the bottom of the board before redirecting my attention and smiling softly to myself. I start another round of spots above the other blue, pressing lightly enough that the tinge looks almost a ghastly pearl. I move it across the middle of the painting, crossing straight through the meeting of the azure and the emerald behind it. It passes behind the flame, only to curl up and cross borders into the blue sky. I watch as it appears to curve on it's own upwards, hitting the red star only slightly, just to curve down and meet with the line of green tears in its path.

I place the now-coated brush down on the table and reach for my water brush once more. I take the tip and gently blend in a few of the droplets together. I swirl them down, the colors cooperating perfectly as I round them off in a circular pattern and remove my tool from the canvas.

"Dude, that's so cool," Kyle smiles at me.

I lean back and look at it with tinge of pride. It's not a Rembrandt by a mile, but it's something for me at least. I look back at him and return his sunny grin. "Thanks, Dude. Yours is pretty sweet, too," I nod towards his darkened board. His eyes flicker towards it and he laughs softly and warmly.

"I think those are my emotions expressing my distaste for the calculus test I have next class," he smirks playfully. "Whaddya think yours is?"

I look down on it and cock my head. "I'm not sure," I answer. "I honestly have no idea."

We all look up in shock as the bell rings for the class's dismissal. "Alright," Klota starts. "Leave your boards on the shelves of the cabinet to dry and we'll pick em up and continue next week. Have a good weekend, Kids."

Everyone starts standing and cleaning up their supplies, a few people filing out of the room after finishing. Cartman steals Kyle's old ushanka and throws it into some black paint before he scurries out, leaving Kyle in a pissed off disposition once more, muttering obscenities to himself. I know better than to intervene on his self-talk. I value my life to some extent. I pick up my board and start to walk over towards the class cabinet to put it away, feeling a hand on my shoulder. I look behind me, seeing Ken smiling at me gently, a way I rarely see. He points to the blue of my background and states, "you."

I blink at him. "Huh?"

"You," he repeats. He moves his hand to the green, pointing between it and the apricot star in the mid-left. "Kyle," he says. He moves and points at the flame. "Passion."

"Thanks, Helen Keller," I raise my brow.

He snorts and points to my conjoined tangerine and scarlet stars. "You two again," he says softly, making sure Kyle was out of earshot. "You're content with him," he smiles more. "These," he follows the winds I painted, "are confusion. You don't know which direction they're going. You just hope that at some point they meet."

I blink at him some more. Who woulda thunk it that Kenny McCormick of all people would hold some sort of actual deep insight? "You're so gay," I reply lamely.

He laughs and claps my back. "Not like you, my faggot friend," he winks. I smirk back and put my picture away, and we look back to see Kyle approaching us.

"We ready to go?" he asks.

"Fuck yes, I'm starving!" Ken whines. "Thirsty too..." Kyle sighs and hands him back the water bottle. Ken snaps it up and smiles at him. "I would say I love you, but Stan would get jealous," he commented, walking over and throwing his worn backpack over his shoulder. I grab my own and we all head out the door together.

"Shut the fuck up, Ken," Kyle rolls his eyes, looking towards the front of the hallway. Kenny and I look around him and share a mischievous smirk. Kyle may not be too accepting of the idea, but what can I really do about it? I guess I can wait until he starts not taking the comments Kenny makes so seriously, maybe that'd soften the blow a bit.

Until then, I guess I'm just stuck. Admiring him from mere inches away while feeling like I may as well be on Jupiter with the way he completely ignores my ogling; brushing it off as a Super Best Friend ordeal that he just has to take if he wants to keep us friends. I suppose I can accept that. I'll just wait, watching him and listening like I know he does for me. Like I know that I do for him all the time. Just watch and see when I can find the right moment to tell him. It's all about good observation.

After all, art starts back up in a week.