South Park One-Shots

Neon Conformist | Michael the Curly Goth

"Look at all the Justin's." Firkle comments, pointing at a group of SPH boys boarding the bus. The Goths all growled as they passed, Pete silently flipping them off as Firkle flicked his used up cigarette at them.

"Yeah, and then there's those Britney wannabes." Henrietta sneered as she stirred her coffee. They nodded, making disgusted faces at the slu-I mean, girls who passed by.

Michael ignored them, instead focusing on polishing his beloved cane. He didn't give a fuck about those conformist shits so long as they didn't fuck with him and his friends. He was just about to tell the others to ignore the bitches when his eyes got caught by a flash of neon (f/c other than black/white/gray/brown, obviously).

Following the color with his eyes, he found it to be a jacket, worn by some conformist girl. Looking up at the unfamiliar girl's face, Michael felt his cigarette fall from his mouth as his jaw went slack. Her (e/c) eyes burned brilliantly from between her snow-coated lashes, full of liveliness. He watched as she walked right past the group of Britney wannabes, who looked at her with poorly concealed jealousy.

"Michael?"

Michael came back to the present and looked over to see a somewhat-concerned Pete. "What?"

"You ok? You kinda blanked out there." he said, lighting up a cigarette, offering his lighter to Firkle.

Michael shrugged nonchalantly. "It was nothing, I'm fine."

Pete looks unconvinced, but he pressed no further. Michael turns to discreetly watch as the obnoxiously-neon conformist walks down the sidewalk alone, not sparing their school a backward glance. He continued to watch until she was no more than a bright fleeting dot in the distance, the sound of her high heels still echoing behind. He didn't know why, but he felt drawn to her, and not just because of the bright colors she wore. There was just something about her that made him feel differently. And that scared him.

*~O)(O~*

Michael had learned via eavesdropping that Neon Conformist was the new girl at school, (Y/N) (L/N). She apparently was very aloof and had yet to speak to anyone other than perhaps a teacher or two. This further intrigued Michael: any other new girl would have jumped at the chance to speak to the local whores, wanting to make some sort of bond. But not (Y/N).

(Y/N) sat alone at lunch, always declining any offers to join a group with a polite shake of her head and sometimes a not-so-polite hand gesture. But Michael only knew of that from hearing people talk, for he himself usually skipped school to go sit behind Horton's with his friends. Or that's what he used to do. Lately, he'd been attending his classes on the regular in hopes of seeing more of the Neon Conformist. He didn't understand why she made him feel the way he did. It was unlike anything he'd experienced before, as conformist as that sounded.

He was currently seated in Biology, his last class before lunch. Michael was just about to give up hope when he suddenly caught a flash of neon (f/c). Turning his head, he saw (Y/N) walk to the teacher's desk, handing over a slip of paper that excused her tardiness. The teacher said something to her, pointing aimlessly in what he assumed to be his general direction. His suspicions were confirmed when (e/c) eyes met with his brown ones. She gave a small smile before walking over to him, stopping just before his desk.

"Hi," she greets quietly, ignoring the stares of curious students.

"She's talking to him? No fair!"

"Wow, she's really cute."

"I'd tap that."

Michael suppressed a growl at these comments. Who the hell were they to talk about someone that way? But, he didn't care, right? Yeah! Michael didn't give two shits about any conformist, even really pretty ones who happened to have a thing for neon...