Cravings (STYLE)

12 POV: Kyle

TWs, fighting, blood, mention of suicide, mockery of suicide, (surprisingly not Cartman), threats, violence, death wishes

"Dude, you were so shit." Kenny says to Stan as the three of us walk back to the changing rooms. "Even my crappy team could beat yours."

"Hey!" Clyde scowls, walking past with Tolkien and Jimmy. "Our team wasn't crappy!"

I roll my eyes, a light smile on my face. For once, I agree with Kenny. Stan did awfully. My whole team did.

Stan was distracted the whole time, Bebe couldn't dodge the ball even if her life depended on it, and Tolkien kept sneaking glances at me, always lowering his guard, then getting hit in the chest with the ball.

We walk into the changing rooms, and I instantly reach for my hat, stuffing my hair into the thing, before sighing in relief, grateful for the extra layer of security.

Stan giggles from beside me, an eyebrow raised at my actions. "You love that hat, huh?"

"Just a little," I grin, taking off my sports shirt. Stan instantly looks away as his cheeks flush with some colour, for whatever reason.

I continue changing, as everyone else does the same. Tying the laces of my school shoes, the bell signalling for lunchtime catches me off guard. I quickly finish readying myself, before standing up from the bench I was sat on, and going to wait by Kennys side, who already had his parka back on.

"God, I'm starving." I hear Stan complain from opposite us, sliding his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Me too," I confess, earning a glance from Kenny.

"Let's get food! Best time of the day," Cartman says, inserting himself to the conversation as he stretches his stubby limbs.

We all walk out together, before being interrupted in the hallway with a tap on my shoulder.

"Yes?" I ask, stopping and turning to see who had stopped me in the hallway. The rest of the group pause too, waiting for me.

"Hey, can we talk?" Tolkien asks me, and I nod in confirmation.

"I'll be right back," I say to my friends, waving goodbye as I follow Tolkien to wherever he was leading me to.

"So, what is it?" I question him, as he takes me into the boys bathroom. "This is, uh, sketchy."

"Sorry," Tolkien replies, an apologetic smile on his face as he locks the main bathroom door. "Privacy reasons."

"Ah," I smile in understanding, before getting punched square in the face.

I stagger back against a stall wall in surprise, my hand shooting up to my face in instinct, covering whatever was hurting in the moment. "Ow, what the fuck!" I yell out, looking back up at Tolkien in surprise and confusion. Second time this week, what the fuck is happening?

I quickly duck down, dodging another fist that was flying for me, then wincing as I hear the painful collision of knuckles against plastic. I watch Tolkien recoil back, a pissed off expression on his face.

Taking this as an opportunity, I kick him in the stomach, momentarily winding him down as his balance wavers.

My hand clutches onto my nose, trying to stop the blood I could feel sliding down my skin and onto my lip. "What the fuck was that for, Tol-"

I'm interrupted by a forceful slam of my body hitting against the wall, painfully colliding against the cold, hard material. Tolkien pins me there, his elbow lightly resting on my neck, ready to strangle me at any moment. He looks at me in anger, and I return his glare with one of venom.