the boy in room 5 ; style

2: Kyle Brovloski

• My name is Kyle Broflovski and I am dying. I suffer from multiple... issues... I have a weak heart, and we can't find a transplant, I have lung cancer, I have anorexia and type 1 diabetes. I'm not going to live to see my 18th birthday, I'd be surprised if I even live the next couple months to see my 16th.

I don't have friends. I had this weird kid called Eric Cartman, who I met when I was 10. He came here after being beat up by some girl, and we met in the cafeteria. He is the worst person I've met in the whole wide world. A bigot, dick and just a general awful person. He kept ripping on me for being Jewish, so glad he's gone.

I've never had a real friend. Volunteers get sent in to talk to me when my parents deem me lonely, but they're always either so bitchy, or fake as fuck. Then I met him. I really thought he'd be like everyone else but as soon as we found one joined interest, we found lots. We talked for hours, there wasn't a moment of silence. Oh, he was so great.

He had skin darker than mine, raven black hair, and snakebite piercings. He wore a dark-red beanie, and he had foggy eye makeup. His shirt was black and with bold, bright red letters read "loser" and a brown jacket decorated with all different iron-on badges. Emo ass dude with unmatched clothes but he was so pretty. Ignoring how greasy his hair was.

When he left I felt my heart sink. I didn't get his number and I can only pray he'll come back. I've never had a friend, is it normal for your stomach to flutter at the though of one? I can't focus on the words on the pages of my book, my vision feels blurry. I don't know if it's because I met Stan today, or if it's because I've been sick my whole life.

I close the cover over the pages and push my book to the side, staring at the door, trying to compose my vision.  The door was blurry and it seemed as if there were three. My head hurts, and it isn't helping, so I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my face with my hands. I hear the door click and my eyes shoot open. I don't know why exactly I assumed Stan was back. It was just my mother, smiling at me with sad eyes, holding my brother's hand.

"Kyle!" Ike yelled, running at Mr and leaping onto my bed, hugging me.

"Ike! Be gentle." Mom yelled, pinching the bridge of her nose and groaning. She walked toward me, sitting on the chair next to the bed that Stan had sat on earlier. I held my brother close to my chest, so he could hear my heart beating. This always made Ike feel better, reminded him I was alive, surviving and fighting.

He pulled away and pushed me a little, climbing on my pillow and making me sit up fully. I heard him giggle as he played with the red curls on my head, an idiotic smile on his face. Since my hair grew back to what it was before I tried chemo, all he does is play with it. I guess he missed it.

"Kyle, how're you feeling?" Mom asks. My smile turns to a frown.

"Why do you keep hiring people to hangout with me?" Her face drops. She'd clearly forgotten she'd done that, grinding her teeth together.

"Oh, well, well uh, well..." I fought off a smile, watching her panic was a little funny. This happens every time. "I just... didn't want you to be lonely, since I couldn't come earlier today, I didn't want you to be all alone all day!" She explained. I let the urge to smile win and laughed.

"Well, this time was the first time it was good. Every other time it's just been some annoying kid wanting money or being punished but this time it was someone nice." I reply. Ike moved from off of my pillow to sit in front of me. On my legs. Crushing them. It hurts. I'm too bony for this.

"Someone... nice? You mean.. oh Kyle, did you make a friend?" Her face lit up. Her eyes glimmered. She smiled, showing off her perfect teeth.  "Yes." I reply, hugging Ike like a stuffed animal. "Mom, I made a friend!"

"Oh Bubbala, that's amazing! Tell me about him." She clapped her hands together. God, she looks as if she's about to cry. This may be the first time I've seen her smile this bright since I told her about Cartman, and we all know how that ended.

"His names Stan, Stanley Marsh. He's like- emo- or something." A slight laugh can be heard behind my voice. "He goes to South park High school, he's a little bit older than me, taller. although most people are taller than me. He plays video games, like games I play, like World Of Warcraft, and surprisingly he plays Genshin! He likes all the same shows I like." I think I rambled for an hour. My eyes glimmered as I spoke about him like he was my finest creation. 

I felt my weak heart grow stronger as it beat against my ribs, trying to escape from my chest. It felt like it was trying to escape to find him. That's stupid, right? Being this obsessed with a guy I just met. Oh, but the way he makes me warm when I had been cold. It's nice. 

"Wow, Kyle." Mom finally shuts me up. "You seem to really like this boy." I slowly turn my head to her, seeing that look in her eyes. 

"What are you implying?" My eyebrows tilt. I know damn well what she's implying. 

"Do you maybe like him a bit more than you're leading on? You never spoke about Eric like this." - "Because Cartman was a neo-Nazi and called me slurs. Stan's a real friend, Cartman wasn't." - "I've never heard someone talk so fondly of the look of their friends lips, Bubbala." 

WHAT? Did I really do that? I was just rambling about everything, I swear. Man, I barley know the dude, how would I like him? I'm not even gay! (lies)

Mom laughs, standing and pulling me into a hug. "I love you, Kyle, but you're so oblivious." - "Mom, I've known him for a day, I'm not gay for him!" She laughs again.

"Have you never heard of a spark, Bubbala?" She taps my nose and stands up straight, letting go of my shoulder. "If this little crush lasts, you should talk to me about it, not your father. 'Kay?" She smiled, picking Ike up off the bed. I sigh and nod.

"Yes, mom. I will. It's not a crush though don't be getting any ideas." I roll my eyes, and hear her laugh. 

"Okay, Kyle. I'm going to take Ike to get dinner. We'll see you in the morning." She smiles, leaning down to move my ginger curls from my forehead and kiss me. I smile.

"Okay, mom. I love you, see ya tomorrow." And she's gone, and the rooms empty and quiet again. God, I hate it here. I can't wait to go home.