Consistent

BY : RandomJaz
Category: +S through Z > South Park
Dragon prints: 7345
Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or any of it's characters, nor do I profit from this fanfiction.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey, guys! So, a reader asked me if this story is almost over being that High School is coming to an end for these characters.

The answer to that is: Yes and No. (How helpful, I know. Lol)

The main story is centered heavily around High School, yes. And, many things happened during it. BUT, there's still some ground to cover after the fact. How much? I won't spoil.

My current pondering centers around whether I will keep High School, and post-graduation events, in the same storyline. Do, an epilogue for the end of the fic. Or, do a second fic entirely.

Consistent is currently at the Chapter 28 mark. So, if y'all don't mind a longer fic. I'll leave it all one piece. (This story isn't filler, every chapter advances the plot. Every scene has a purpose.) But, I understand that some people get antsy with long fics. (Which, again, I could potentially accommodate for by splitting High School and Post-Graduation in to two separate fics).

Anyway, for what it's worth: The next chapter is already in the works. These next updates are going to be mainly centered around tying loose ends.

Let me know your thoughts, if you can! I'd love to hear how you guys are feeling about the fic thus far. Thanks for reading! I really appreciate that you've stuck around.

xxxxxx

Clyde was right. Sometimes the truth is funny.

Having wiggled enough bait, Mike finally hooked something. His big catch had given a good long fight before he managed to reel it in. Now it was staring across the room at me.

Mike displayed his prized winnings with a cheeky satisfaction. Perched on his knee, he stroked Clyde's hair from the crown of his head forward along his scalp, brushing the short brunette tufts with leisure.

He had that styled messy hair look- Tufts tousled and boyish. I'm sure it smelled like Axe brand shampoo.

From Mike's desk chair, sitting sideways with my legs propped up over the side, I'd been going over some flashcards before this turn of events transpired. Clyde was supposed to be studying these, not Mike's lash line. Or, me.

Clyde's unoccupied knee sat empty. He looked me directly in the eye. With unwavering attention, something he rarely ever did.

The room felt like it shrunk. The floor space between us just up and vanished without anyone having to move a muscle. It was the way he openly stared at me.

A wall dropped, taking a locked door with it. A closet door. It crashed, splintering upon impact.

Mike's favorite type of confetti, you could say. He was practically rolling in it. He'd be picking it out of his hair for weeks.

"Sitting like that looks uncomfortable." Clyde commented.

"Does it?" I challenged.

I'd seen Clyde turn the charm on for girls. It was more of a cocky preen. Not so much a flirt. Until now, I never would have known there was a difference. Because Clyde's lost nerve made a raging comeback.

"You'd be more comfortable over here." He told me suggestively, not with arrogance.

The payoff to Mike's persistence was a heavy lump sum. Mike turned his charm on to get here, and sat content with it. Clyde was down. Completely, no backing out, down for this.

Are we actually doing this?

The question never left my mouth, but Mike easily read my face. We exchanged glances He shot back a playful gleam and I knew he was game for anything.

The ball was in my playing field. On the outside I kept my composure. Inside, I fumbled the catch. What does this even entail?

Mike got what he wanted; he confirmed his suspicions. But, did he even consider what the results would be? What to do with them?

I wonder if he even thought he'd get this far. And how far was this going to go?

Clyde waited for me to do something. Get up, come closer, speak. Anything that would validate the high hopes Mike gave him. You could hear a pin drop the room got so quiet. Seeing him stare at me like that, it brought me back to another closeted boy I'd humored.

Stan never regretted me. Then again, he hadn't acted on impulse.

"If I come over there, are you going to regret it tomorrow?"

"Why would I regret it? I've wanted this for a while."

Mike's entire aura shimmered with "I knew it".

This wasn't the kind of thing I think I ever would have humored had Mike not come along. He was in another grown man's lap, but his attention was on me. He wasn't fawning after Clyde, this was harmless opportunity.

How harmless? I couldn't say for sure. Curiosity propelled me forward. This couldn't be real.

I crossed the floor to them and Clyde put a hand on my waist, ready to guide me in to his lap. I pointed a finger in his face before I sat.

"You're lucky I'm even humoring this." I settled myself on his other knee. "If you do wake up and regret this tomorrow, that's on you. Not us."

"I'm not going to regret anything."

Mike explored the length of his jugular. The brunette shivered at the feathery touch.

"That all it take?" Mike followed the curve of his ear.

"...no one's ever touched me."

"We could fix that."

Mike raked his fingers down Clyde's chest over his shirt, toying with the fabric. He went lower, for the band to his sweats.

"...Can I watch you two, first?"

"Watch us what?" Mike pried.

"You could start with kissing."

"Would that turn you on, Clyde?"

He urged us closer together in his lap. And Mike went with it. Making it a point to flash Clyde his tongue ring first, he caught my mouth for a kiss. Clyde kept a hand on the smalls of our backs, watching us go at it.

I followed Mike's lead, parting my lips for him. He kissed me wetly with lots of tongue, gliding and flicking his along mine. I almost forgot it was for show until I felt Clyde urge us even closer.

Mike briefly opened an eye to wink at him before wrapping his arms around me and holding me flush to his chest. I got that lightheaded euphoria he'd given me our first night together. That warm fuzzy rush.

I didn't care that Clyde was watching at the moment. If he liked what he saw, good for him.

As Mike dragged my shirt up from one hip to touch some skin, I went for his studded belt ignoring the larger hand beginning to trace along the edge of mine.

Mike's belt hit the floor, the decorative buckle landing between Clyde's feet. Next went Mike's shirt. He stripped it off, untucking it from his tight pants. Before we could meet lips again, Clyde softly tugged the hem of mine.

"Why's yours still on?"

I didn't have an answer for that. So, I just took it off. Clyde glanced at my belt and Mike took care of it before he could point out it was still on.

"Before this goes any further..." Mike addressed him. "You have a decision to make."

"I do?"

"There two of us, and only one of you."

Not sure where Mike was going with that at all, Clyde stared back at him at a loss. As, did I.

"...and?"

Mike brought his lips in close, but didn't touch Clyde's.

"Only one of us can be your first kiss." He teased, straight to the point. "And, only one of us can be your first fuck. Sad, but true."

Those seemingly trivial details didn't feel trivial now that Mike put a spot light on them. Did it matter to Clyde? Mike was convinced it did, or he wouldn't have brought it up to begin with.

"Who's getting what?" He asked. "I know you've thought about it."

When Clyde hesitated to answer, Mike reminded him that he could try us both. But, someone still had to go first. No hurt feelings, whoever he chose.

Being the guy's first kiss, or first lay, both held their own weight. When he kissed Mike, it made sense. My boyfriend spent all year openly flirting with him. Obviously, Mike was the favorite.

Then I remembered. If one of us got the first kiss, the other got...

xxxxxx

To play it safe, Mike lubed up his own fingers and warmed me up himself before Clyde could come anywhere near me. We didn't know what the jock was packing, but Mike wasn't taking any chances. Draped over his slender thighs, I got a thorough fingering.

"Unlike me, you actually have an ass." Mike noted, two fingers knuckle deep. "I don't blame him for picking you."

"I'm like a handful bigger than you."

"Shape counts for a lot. I like your bubble butt."

I was never self-conscious about my body in the conventional sense. When I'd been under weight, I didn't like anyone pointing it out. I'd always been thin, so unless you saw me naked it was hard to tell just how far it'd gone.

It wasn't a problem now. Mike fixed it. I looked the best I ever have. The healthiest. But, some guy who bullied me was now on the list on people who'd seen me naked. And, there was something disorientating about that.

I kept my face pointed the other way while Clyde watched Mike touch me. I thought he was just lubing me and loosening me up for him. But, Mike's fingers started searching. I gasped when he found my prostate.

He started gentle, quickly building pressure until I was fighting the urge to rock my hips in to his hand. Feeling Clyde's presence in the room didn't give me the comfort to let go. I felt like I was being watched too closely during a private moment.

I pulled away from Mike's hand just a smidge, trying to cue him to ease up a little. He peered down at my face to see if I was okay. Seeing my pink cheek pressed to the sheets, and feeling my hard on pressed down in his lap, Mike kept his pace until I started involuntarily groaning.

"He's ready whenever you are." He purred to Clyde.

Clyde got up to undress. I wouldn't look at him, even out of curiosity. I'd already seen what the guy looked like from the belt up. The athlete was built up top. He'd lost his baby fat long ago.

Mike quickly slipped a third finger in me without warning. He moved them around to loosen me up more. I immediately understood what that meant.

Clyde's sweats hit the floor. And his boxers went with them.

"This will certainly be worth our time." Mike took his fingers back. "All you, baby bat."

I got on my hands and knees for Clyde, keeping my back to him. It was easier for me that way. Now that I was in this situation, I'm not sure how I would have reacted if Clyde tried kissing me first.

I was having a hard time accepting he wanted this. Until I felt his big hands on my hips. Clyde came in close behind me, without bumping me with his erection.

"Pete?"

"...yeah?"

"You're really letting me do this?"

He was double checking for consent. Which was appreciated. Arching my back slightly in preparation, I gave him the go ahead. You live once.

"Go for it." I told him. "But, like I said: If you regret this, you better not take it out on us."

Clyde being a virgin, I naively thought his inexperience would cap off the night in a round or two, with a quick blow and break for him to recharge.

Ass still in the air long past what I bargained for, I was wrong.

I took on an athlete. An eighteen-year-old in his prime. It wasn't the first time. I had the same exact thing happen with Stan. And, I thought Clyde would be done in ten minutes?

He was big. I felt each thrust he made with the same intensity as the last. Mindful of my muffled grunts and groans, Clyde didn't outright plow me with all his strength how I'm sure he wanted to.

Each time his hips hit mine, I bit back a yelp. He was holding back, but still giving it to me pretty hard with those persistent thrusts.

Above me, Clyde was making out with Mike. They broke the kiss when I started clutching at the bed covers and weakly crying out in to the fabric.

"He's going to cum if you keep fucking him hard like that." Mike's warning wasn't meant to cautionary; he was goading Clyde on.

Where our bodies were joined, I was holding Clyde tight. The ring of muscle he was stretching with his cock squeezed around him; hot, slippery, and inviting.

If I wasn't sore when I went to bed later, I'd be sore when I woke up.

Xxxxxxx

Michael was bound to find out about Mike. I'd made it this far in to the year in secret. I would have preferred he not find out the morning after I had my ass bodied by the linebacker. But, my luck had to run out somewhere.

I warned Clyde not to regret me the next day. He didn't. I briefly regretted him when I found myself booking it down the hallway sore as hell, with Michael snarling at my heels.

I shouldn't have taken the back door out of the school. I shouldn't have assumed that that because Michael hated Facebook and anything to do with school, that he wouldn't find that picture.

Michael stared at his phone screen with a look I couldn't describe. Georgie and Henrietta looked like they were trying to piece the world together at a glance.

That's when Michael looked up and I ran. No questions asked. No benefit of the doubt. I got a glimpse of those coffee brown eyes and booked it.

"The fucking vamp kid?!" He chased me, seeing red for reasons unrelated to my hair.

Other students scattered out of the way seeing us barreling down the hall. Michael narrowly missed crashing in to an open locker when I took a sharp turn down another hallway.

He demanded answers, none I was willing to give right now. I didn't know exactly what he was going to do when he caught me. In the heat of the moment, all I could think of was his cane.

...he'd never use it on me, right? I didn't want to stick around and find out. He charged after me, consumed with I'm not even sure what fueling him. Rage? Betrayal? Hurt? Disbelief?

"PETE!" He barked especially pissed the longer this chase ensued without a word from me. "Stop running!"

My best bet here was running to the office. School security were still on duty. I neared the gym, cursing to myself as a bunch of volley ball players filed out in to my path. I cut through the crowd and the kids all ran when Michael came charging through.

Everything hurt. I was out of breath. I wasn't going to make it.

"PETE! Enough-"

I heard a huge slam.

"Donovan! You piece of shit! Fucking let go of me!"

The school linebacker blindsided Michael, tackling him in to a row of lockers with one powerful blow. Took him down like a car wreck. Miachel didn't lose steam, struggling against him.

Clyde was just shy of six feet tall, and solid. That had to have hurt. I don't think Michael felt the full impact, his adrenaline was raging.

I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air. My lungs were on fire and my legs were exhausted.

"I SAID LET GO."

"That's not happening." Clyde pinned Michael with a hand between his shoulder blades. "You're not going anywhere near him."

"He needs his-"

Someone came running for me. I knew it wasn't Michael, I could still hear him screaming at Clyde to fuck off. Stan dropped down in front of me

"Pete, hey." He pulled my backpack off, digging for my inhaler not caring that people were watching this scene unfold. "Just give me a sec, okay? Hold on."

He couldn't immediately find it. In his panic, he dumped my bag to get it.

"Mouth open." With one hand, Stan gently but firmly grabbed me by the hollow of my cheeks.

He put the plastic to my mouth, dispensing the medicine. People started crowding in to see what was wrong. It was bad enough when Michael had to jam my inhaler in my mouth. At least at the time, there wasn't an audience.

Most of the people who gathered around didn't even know me by name. I was just the red-hair goth kid.

"Give him some space!" Stan snapped. "Back up."

The volleyball team, some sparse lacrosse players, and lingering students backed off. Tears leaked down my cheeks in two wet streaks. I'm so sick of this place.

"Pete, you okay?" Stan took the inhaler out, recapping the mouth piece. "What was that about?"

"He found out about Mike." I whispered so low under my breath that Stan had to lean in to hear me.

"...He was going to hurt you over that?"

"I don't know what he was going to do. I just ran."

What we thought was the principle approaching was Mike. His heels clicking came up from behind Stan until he was standing over us.

He didn't know what happened. Taking a look at me a mess, the inhaler in Stan's hand, and Michael having a fit, Mike quickly put together enough of the picture to see what took place.

"Nothing to see here." He shoo'd the crowd away. "Do the polite thing and go. Please, and thank you."

The bystanders left. I was still catching my breath.

"He has asthma, and you chased him?" Mike scolded, heavily unimpressed. "What are you? Nuerotic?"

Seeing Mike was the last thing Michael needed right now.

"Fuck you, Makowski." He spat it out venomously.

Had Mike been within reach, he may have actually spat on him.

"I'm not the one who chased an asthmatic." Mike took the inhaler from Stan and put it back in to my bag.

Stan helped him put the rest of my stuff back. Mike picked up the loose papers that fell out of my notebook, not paying much mind to the seething person glaring daggers at him.

School security came when they heard about all the commotion. Someone had run to the office. Security relieved Clyde of the task of restraining him.

"...Pete going to be okay?" Clyde asked.

"He'll be fine." Stan told him.

"Was talking to Mike?"

Stan cleared his throat.

"My bad."

Mike slung my bag over his shoulder and stood up. I tried getting up too. Both Clyde and Stan impulsively leaned in at the same time to help. The two shared an awkward look and quickly backed off, hands in their pockets.

Michael was taken by each arm, and hauled away by two men. He fought their grips.

"YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HIM." Were his last words before they successfully escorted him out.

The words echoed in the distance. I don't know if they were meant for Mike, or me.

Xxxxxx

Under my blankets, I laid in the dark alone. Lights and TV off, with shades closed. My phone laid face down charging.

It had gone off a quite a bit since I'd gotten home. I didn't want to know who was trying to talk to me. I didn't want to talk to anyone right now, either. Including Mike.

It was embarrassing what a mess my life could be. So much drama and to think I was still hiding things. Didn't matter who Michael's last words were meant for. In the end, he was right either way.

"Pete?" Mom was outside my bedroom door. "Are you up?"

"...yeah, Mom. What is it?"

With no light coming from under my door, she assumed I was napping. She sounded surprised to hear I was awake.

"Did you get my text? Your aunt wants to know if we're having a graduation party for you this month."

"Are we?"

"I'd like to, if that's okay. I'm stopping at the supermarket after the post office ...should I put in an order for a sheet cake?"

I told her she could go ahead and order a cake for my graduation party if she wanted. It would be my grandparents, my aunt and her kids. A coworker, or two, of my Mom's. They'd come for finger sandwiches and cake, give me their congrats, and be gone before dark.

"Half chocolate, half vanilla okay?" Mom checked.

"Whatever you think is best."

Before Mom left, she knocked on the door again. Lighter this time.

"I'm proud of you."

I wasn't feeling proud of myself. I should've told Michael the truth to begin with. I wonder what was going through his mind.

I lied to him. He trusted me. I may as well have drove a knife in his chest when I ran. Running away the way that I did is likely what set him off. It was impulse; My fight or flight reflex kicked in.

Michael was never going to hurt me.

I shot out of bed, feeling around the floor for my shoes in the dark. I did something wrong and Michael deserved an apology. Every minute that passed without one, I was the bad friend. I didn't want that.

"Mom?" I called down the hall, hoping she was still home. "Could you drop me off somewhere?"

xxxxx

Michael's Dad was coming out of the shed when I made it to the house. Assuming Michael invited me over, he let me in on his way to grab something from inside. Music was blaring from upstairs.

"Could you tell him to turn that down?" Michael's dad complained. "I don't know he hears himself think with all that noise."

The point was not to think. I ran up to his door, knocking loudly in hopes he'd hear me over the speakers. Nothing.

I tried the knob. Locked.

"MICHAEL." I knocked harder.

The door ripped open, to my horror and relief.

"I'll play the music as loud as I-" He started, stopping when finding it wasn't his dad coming to harass him over the speakers.

I braced for him to slam the door in my face. Michael was using the door frame to support himself. He was unsteady on his feet.

"...are you okay?"

"Do you even care?"

He had a pill bottle in hand. It was his Mom's pain medication.

"Have you been-"

Michael's hand slipped and he stumbled forward. With him being so much taller than me, it was an awkward catch. I supported his weight, pulling him back in to his room.

"Fuck, Michael." I grunted, getting him to bed.

I took the prescription bottle, shaking it to get a feel for how much he'd taken. It was still mostly full. This wasn't dire. Good.

"How many did you take?"

"Not enough."

His mom weighed more than he did. What was a normal dose for her could easily knock him on his ass. He was conscious, and still talking. But, losing his coordination.

The bottle was nearly full. He had to have just taken one.

I tucked the bottle in my pocket and snuck it back to his mom's medicine cabinet, hurrying back to Michael. I hoped his parents didn't chew his ass out too bad if his mom noticed she was a pill short at the end of the month. More likely than not, she'd pick up the next refill before she ran out.

"You can't do that. Your mom needs the prescription." I turned down Michael's music. "Doesn't she have a herniated disk in her back?"

He brushed some curls out of his face, mumbling something to the extent of yes. He was breathing slow and struggling like he was fighting to stay awake.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"I'm not going to the hospital over three fucking Oxycodone."

The pill dosage wasn't adjusted for him. And, he took three of the freaking things.

"Did you at least take it with food how you're supposed to?"

Michael made a flippant sound.

"Jesus Christ, Michael. You can't mess around with opioids"

He hadn't been home very long. He was still wearing his trench coat and boots. I saw the bottoms had a fresh blade of grass wedged in there when I unlaced them.

"You need to stop spending so much time at the cemetery."

"Willow tree." He corrected me.

I began getting Michael out of his long ass coat. He half helped me, stretching his arm out so I could slip the sleeve off.

Halfway through, his went limp. I caught his arm and tugged his coat all the way off. He wouldn't be going anywhere else tonight.

"...the willow tree?"

He went to the cemetery, just for the willow tree? Maybe he was talking nonsense?

"The leaves look like rope, Pete."

"Rope, huh?"

"All I see is rope. I want it to stop."

It wasn't ever my intention to traumatize Michael with my mistake. He was reliving that day each night he closed his eyes. Without fail.

I draped his coat over the foot of the bed. Michael's metal cane sat propped up against it, toppling over with a loud clang. I jumped at the sound.

Going to prop it back up again, I held it in my hands guiltily for a moment. Michael saved me with this once. And, he wouldn't hesitate to do it again.

"I can't believe you thought I'd hurt you."

"...you were so mad."

"Because you ran."

I realized that too late. I don't know what I was thinking. It was the dumbest thing I'd ever done.

The second dumbest thing I'd ever done.

"How long were you hiding him?"

"...since October."

"You lied to my face."

"I'm sorry."

I stayed on the floor, sitting against the bed post. Michael dragged a hand over his face.

"Mike Makowski?"

"Mike Makowski..."

"How does that even happen?"

He anticipated some wild story. When it was actually a lot simpler than that.

"Nobody else was giving me what I needed."

"And Mike Makowski does?"

"Consistently."

I didn't deserve Mike. Not this lifetime.

"Of course, he does." Michael muttered. "The privileged goody goody."

"...he's got a heart of gold." I defended, as amazed as I was grateful. "So much patience."

"Just no more fucking secrets." Michael pleaded. "I can't do secrets, anymore."

Reaching a hand up, I touched his forehead. I ran my thumb over the scar receding in to his widow's peak and scalp. Michael got stitched by an EMT in a school yard, blood over the asphalt.

Two of his front teeth are fake. His nose is slightly crooked. The curly hair he hated so much growing up was now the only thing keeping eyes off his mangled forehead. Some demonic little shits at his first elementary school cracked it in half.

Noone understood him, then he stumbled upon me. He found me in that alley, bloodied and terrified. He found himself, with a new face.

"You're all I have in this Town, Pete." Michael held the hand stroking his scar, keeping my touch there; He shut his eyes. "Please don't forget me."

The drugs knocked Michael down for the night. I listened to him take even breaths. Taking none of them for granted.

Michael's burst of rage earlier, it was misplaced grief. He still wanted to be my safe place. Until now, I wouldn't have ever thought he wanted me to be his. He never admitted he needed one.

He made a horrible decision, today. I'd been there before too-Running from my feelings. Never knew where I hoped I'd end up. It certainly wasn't on Michael's floorboards, clutching his cane close.

This was his worst vice.

He didn't feel safe in the world. Michael was still that battered kid, inside. I'd never leave him behind. I wouldn't leave anyone in dark ever again. I hated it there, too.

Xxxxxx

(Long-ish important) AUTHOR'S NOTE (that I'm condensing to the best of my ability): So, remember the Triangular Theory of Love that I mentioned in chapter 6, and elaborated more on in chapter 18? How each Mike, Stan, and Michael started with one of three unique elements.

Recap:

Intimacy: is the closeness and trust you feel to someone. (Do you feel safe? Do you feel loved? Can you be vulnerable?) Love with just intimacy is "Liking". (Mike)

Passion is the sexual and/or physical attraction between two people. (Are you drawn to this person because of a bodily urge or connection? Does sex dominate your interest or attachment to this person?) Love with just Passion is "Infatuated love". (Stan)

Commitment: is the decision to stay with someone, regardless of circumstance. (Are you planning your future with this person? Are you determined to keep them?) Love with just Commitment is "Empty love". (Michael)

Recall how I mentioned that when you combine two, they create a different kind of love? And, when you have all three elements, its Complete Love. More elements=stronger bond.

"Complete love" is HARD to break as it has everything and takes a lot to manipulate or challenge it. When you lack an element(s) you tend to go looking for it somewhere else.

Intimacy+Passion=Romantic Love. (This is where Mike and Pete currently are.)

Commitment+Intimacy = Companionate Love. (This is where both Michael and Stan currently stand with Pete.)

Passion+CommitmentFatuous Love (No one is here)

Notice how Stan and Michael's elements are now matched 1:1 to each other. And how both their relationships to Pete have evolved. And, everyone's now tied with two elements.

Well, that's all for now folks! *Does a little hop, skip, and dance off screen* Hee hee hee~



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