His Jars of Hyacinths (STYLE)

2

POV: Kyle

the weekend continued as normal.

i was home alone for the rest of the night, and nothing strange happened. Ike arrived home on saturday morning, and i listened to him talk about how he enjoyed visiting Firkles house.

i smiled at his enthusiasm - god i missed Stan. he promised me that we would hang out today, but he said he had to cancel. i didn't pester asking him why, because if he had a reason then i'm sure it was a good one. Stan's my super best friend, no one could come between our friendship.

i currently stand in the kitchen, cooking some pasta for me and Ike to eat for lunch. it's a warm day as summer was nearing, leaving me in a shirt and sweatpants. i stir the pasta as i scroll through instagram on my phone.

Craig posted a picture of his guinea pig. skip. Bebe asking for fashion tips. skip. Butters posted a picture of a small ginger cat, requesting name ideas. skip. Scott posted something but i don't care because, well, he's Scott Malkinson, he has diabetes. skip. Kevin sent a picture of a stray dog. like, then skip. Wendy posted a picture of her and Stan.

oh, ouch.

they were outside the cinema holding popcorn and dr pepper cans, laughing. Wendy was holding the phone outstretched as she appeared mid-laugh, and Stan was kissing her cheek. huh. i dont know why i felt my heart ache, they had been like this for a while now. but is that really why he canceled on me? for a girl?

"Kyle!!????" Ike says suddenly, snapping me out of my trance.

"Huh? Yeah, Ike?"

"The pasta, its bubbling over."

i look down at the pot - the water was boiling over and bubbles were dripping down the side. i mutter a curse, then turn off the stove and take the pot to the sink so i can drain the water down the sink. i fill mine and Ike's bowls, then hand one to my brother before taking mine to my room upstairs silently.

i feel strange again. that aching in my chest, i don't know why i feel that, but the feeling especially rose after seeing a post of my super best friend ditching me to being so in love with the girl of his dreams. it felt almost selfish of me to feel such pain at his happiness. but the real pain i felt wasn't the heartache at all, but rather the burning in my throat. the same feeling from when Kenny was round yesterday.

i place my bowl onto my bedroom desk, then immediately sink the floor, clutching my chest as i cough and cough until another bloody petal falls into my hand. i let out a relieved sigh as the worst of the pain has subsided, but then found myself staring down at the purple hyacinth petal resting on my palm.

it can't be a fluke anymore. yesterday i coughed one up too, i thought it was just weird south park antic shit. but another petal? something isn't right, i think i realise that now.

i rise from the floor, my legs slightly shaking as the realisation sets in. i can't be sure that this isn't just an unbelievably rare occurrence, but this just.. doesn't feel right.

i place the petal into another jar, labelling it.

[June 3rd, 13:04]

i smile weakly at the sore sight, and place the jar on the shelf towering above my desk, right next to the jar from yesterday. i then walk to the bathroom, and turn on the sink tap.

with soap, i wash the blood off of my palms, then i brush my teeth in hopes to remove the sickly strange taste from my mouth. groaning, i clutch the sink, staring at myself in the mirror. my chest aches, but not with heartache this time, but a real actual aching pain, probably from puking up the petal. i shiver, closing my eyes briefly then walking back to my room.

i really lost my appetite.

i leave the bowl of plain, cooling pasta on my desk, and i sink onto my bed. what is happening? should i tell Kenny? he did tell me to say if anything else weird happened, but maybe this is another fluke. maybe this is a coincidence, a funny coincidence that matched with last night, and maybe i'm overreacting. maybe this whole overthinking thing is pointless, and i'm fine. but maybe i'm not. what if i'm not?

i pull out my laptop to turn on youtube, trying to distract myself from the burning in my throat and the paranoid thoughts racing through my mind. an hour or two passes, or maybe more, before i get up to go downstairs for some paracetamol or some other painkillers to make me forget about my problems.

Ike sits on the couch, watching TV. he looks to me as i walk down the stairs, and i wave hello before walking straight to the kitchen. i search around the medicine cupboard, pulling out some paracetamol. i then take them with some water, shuddering at the disgusting aftertaste.

sighing, i walk back to the living room.

"You'll have to cook yourself food, I'm really not hungry. Is that okay?" i smile weakly at my brother, and i think he saw how tired i was.

"Yeah, okay." he smiles, then turns to the TV. I head back upstairs, with nothing to do. so i decide to do the only thing i can think to do.

sleep.

[929 words]