I Want Love
Stan can’t get his forehead away from the wheel, even his breath was pulling him down. He is in his fragile sanctuary, his car, and it gives him a vague freedom despite not having the motor on. Looking at mountains, any part of nature that hasn’t been bullied down to a false cohabitation by men, would usually work on him too; but there isn’t Kyle. Not that he ever stopped having a large chunk of Stan’s brain but the car became special with him after all the time where they had mused about the time when they ditch South Park.
He still regrets leaving his bed in the first place. The single idiot staying in his car in front of his highschool can hardly be anyone else but him. Frankly, it seems like he has missed a year but he knows it’s only been days. His mom can probably see through his lie but also enough to know that he isn’t asking to stay home because he is lazy. He tries to help her at home as much as he can as a thank you to not be a complete disaster.
His heart is still swollen. Which is natural as most things are a memory trap around here, even more his bedroom. Pictures, games, stuff Kyle and him bought together. There are some clothes that Kyle had forgotten. The ones he brings over to have something clean when they hang out at Stan’s place directly after one of his basketball practices. He would take his quick shower here to not have it at school when the water is ice cold every day except Tuesday. Some of his clothes have been here in a dedicated part of Stan’s closet because somehow they never returned home. It’s not like Stan forgot about them and he doubts Kyle does too. Now it’s only a cocktail wavering between regrets and small satisfaction.
It can’t be swallowed but Stan also has no idea how to stop breathing the sea. Nothing has changed in that time-capsule so he blindly follows this suffocating dream and tries to digest as much as he can. If he stares long enough at the waves of the grass, the shades of trees meeting and spreading apart, at the clouds looking for a final rest– Kyle will always continue to show up at his house asking to watch some old cartoons over nostalgic candies.
The tides have never played in their life until now, leaving Stan all alone in his car with the salt dripping from the dry sea.
His tired eyes vaguely glances at his thighs before he slowly straightens himself against his seat. Even when he already did most of the road, crossing the parking lot calls for a lot of energy that Stan doesn’t have - especially when he can spot some people hanging out here and there. He isn’t even missing a class right now; he could go and have fun playing music with his friends but the idea of leaving this safe place makes his stomach boil. Kyle is still playing basketball, which Stan would have loved to watch under normal circonstances but he is pretty sure that Kyle would try to kill him with a ball.
He glances at his hollow backpack laying on the passenger seat. Stan slowly grabs it to open it on his thighs—there is nothing except for a bright green ushanka. His lips are dry of words while his throat itches to say anything.
It is empty.
It has never been empty before; but Stan never knew that since Kyle filled this unnatural void in his head.
He can’t figure out when he started to love Kyle. It wouldn’t change anything, especially not the intensity. Their ‘no-homo kiss’ has been as climactic as a meteor falling like a peddle in a lake because it hasn’t been that weird. It has felt like Stan always pictured and somehow it wasn’t a surprise because it’s just Kyle in general. There are a lot of things that are far more fun because he is here.
They have always been together and in every possible way they could be - even when they turned against each other, they would find their way back together and it made everything right. As bad as it might sound, Stan is convinced that in a future where they lost each other in one way or another wouldn’t have been a happy one for him. As kids they were called with a lot of various names. ‘Brothers’ is certainly what they were in kindergarten by how they always looked for each other and only nap if they are next to each other; ‘best friends’ until death separates them is the one Stan believes in and favors. Now, people assume they are a couple.
It sounds like a good word, one full of promise of happiness, kisses, understanding and pure acceptance.
The Marsh oddly knows better the other side of it. Stan might have been a kid but he understood that love can become a pitiful shelter to not face the real deception and pain; he has seen it with his parents. All of Stan’s previous experiences in love have also been something along these lines; he thinks he actually loved Wendy and some feelings are still there but he has only wanted to stay together to not be one of these guys bad at dating. His heart was never in the right place. He hopes it’s because he was a child but he can’t be sure. He might have heritated his parents’ type of love. His eyes had watched their failures since he was born. It’s not how he wants to love Kyle.
Stan hates it. He loathes his feelings. Their implication, their strength, their truth. Love is a bitch. A raging and fearless one that consumes the ground you stood on.
Perhaps Stan had wanted that. After he reads books or hears songs about that beautiful bitch and says that it is wonderful - that the pain is worth it. Nothing could counter that overflow, even reason would agree to the burning waves and open the gates without thinking. Stan doesn’t know when it happened. Though he did write all the reasons why in these songs he keeps to himself as he tries to sleep.
If only it has just been for Kyle’s body. Stan honestly wishes it’s just that. Like that he would easily look for someone with the same characteristics and could stay next to Kyle without having a second thought about his eyes or neck. But it just can’t be that simple. Of course, this bitch isn’t just about someone’s pretty face or ass—and God, that ass.
He has tried to find someone as far away from any similarities with his best friend but nothing worked. Some people would say it’s a gamble to confess to a friend, you might lose but also win something better than it ever was. Stan doesn’t want to try this with Kyle and while he might probably not be completely cut off, he can’t imagine living with that ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I like you but not like that’. In a way he would still lose the best person in the whole world because he wouldn’t be good enough to be with them.
Love is a misleading monument that sells you dreams and comfort when at any moment it will crush you and your poor insignificant feelings. Either you choose to make it fall or it will at a single shake, destroying everything around.
Stan loves Kyle. More than he could process or even compare from these childish tales about love at first sight or eternal one.
He has no idea what he waits for. A signal is inaccurate because he found himself without senses around him; Stan is too busy focusing on the variation of Kyle’s voice and his mood. He could easily blame Kyle for being the way he is now, for making his heart clinch at every syllable and almost cry before it relishes.
His lungs need a good intake at the plan to just put the ushanka in Kyle’s locker. He honestly wants to talk to him to just say everything but he also prays for their lives to return back to normal. Maybe, if Stan is lucky, his love for Kyle will fade away if they separate ways at universities or at least go back to something more normal.
His heart is furious at his ideas but Stan can’t bring himself to care. At least, he is able to leave his car with his backpack on to not look too much out of the place. Stan isn’t sure yet of the best thing to do with Kyle’s precious hat. He could keep it forever but it’s not fair to Kyle.
“Don’t be Randy,” he snarls at his own heartbeat, ignoring the few figures passing next to him when he enters the building. His eyes are blurry but he fights it off.
His father would probably have reacted to this situation just like Stan did, as if he needs another proof that it was a dick move, but it’s an argument good enough to get out of his house and sorrow. Redeeming isn’t a Randy’s thing or maybe not even a Marsh’s—but it could be Stan’s.
It’s slightly odd to walk in the opposite direction of anyone else. He is the black sheep heading near the cliff instead of following the fresh grass of freedom. Although, he had already reached the bottom of the pit so he doesn’t care much if he walks right into Kyle. He would force out apologies and ask if they can come back as friends. All of it depended if he won’t combust when he tries to not murder Davíd when he will see them together. He should have seen it coming.
Stan guesses that Kyle is still at his basketball practice by the look of his locker. He carefully places the unshaka, longing a bit his fingers on the old fabric before he parts his eyes away from the closing locker. Kyle’s password and combination are like his fingerprints at this point.
As he walks toward the music room even his heartbeat is muffled. Nothing distracts his drained out thoughts and he hopes to find something to dissipate these depressing whispers buzzing him out. There isn’t a sound from the music room. For a second, he thinks the lack of melodies is from his own conscience until he notices it’s empty inside from the small windows of the doors.
It takes him a second before remembering that there is the preparation for a stage play. He knows that Annie asked Tweek to play the piano for some scenes. Kenny is also a big fan of any form of occupation so he should be there for fun or to calm Tweek’s nerves.
“Oh hey Stan!”
Scott walks up by his side, not quite hasty but he is carrying a lot of papers.
“Scott, hi,” he greets without great emotion.
“Are you feeling better?”
He blinks at his question, watching him fiddle with a paper on a hard folder. “What?”
“Wendy told me you are sick,” he explains, fully giving his attention after his hand finds a paper to place on the top of the packet. Probably something from the school council.
“Oh, uh, yeah. A bit better,” Stan lies even if it convinces neither of them.
“Hey, if you need some materials from our classes or something you can ask me,” Scott offers with a friendly smile. Stan would appreciate it if he had been truly sick and not hiding. “I mean I’m sure Kyle has everything for you but-“
“Yeah, no, thanks,” Stan cuts in with a painful throb in his head. He passes a hand on his neck, the cold barely noticeable on his tired skin.
“Also, we started to planify on the rooms for the ski trip with the hotel and everything,” he explains, showing him the paper on his pile. “Since you weren’t there I wanted to ask the guys with whom you wanted to share your room but Wendy told me we should ask you first.”
“Oh, right.” He grabs it to glance at the room’s number next to names and number, size of beds.
“You want a pen to write where you want to go?”
Stan peers at him with a frown before he quickly returns to the list. His eyes try to burn off Davíd's name in the room 214 shared with Kyle. “Yes.”
He could also be angry that the only room with four beds is taken by Craig’s gang—if there isn’t a fanfaroning handwriting next to Kyle’s. There is no way that Stan would let this happen.
“It might still change because of t-“
Stan grabs the pen with no delicacy nor words, ignoring whatever Scott is saying. He opens it with his teeth and smashes the paper against the closest wall to have a neat surface on to write. He tries to not be messy when he barres and slashes Kyle’s boyfriend out of the list but then he doesn’t care much at how it must look from the outside. Stan’s name looks much better next to Kyle Broflovski. Without checking if there is a free bed to place Davíd he returns the paper to the slightly confused Scott.
“Thanks man. I would have never thought about it.”
“No problem.” Scott tidies his pile of paper, almost spilling some of it if Stan doesn’t grab a part of it.
“Tell me if there are changes,” Stan requests, aware that Kyle will kick his ass when he sees it. Though, if that happens at the hotel there is less risk for it to be changed.
Stan walks away with a small ‘bye’, without any idea what to say to end their discussion here. He hurries to the main hall, taking in the few notes of music, easily echoing when the corridoes are empty. Without even looking inside he can guess that it’s Tweek who is playing. When he peers through the doors, he notices Kenny singing on the stage, clearly enjoying it to show his vocal cords. His short opera experience, which is a bit weird, had given him the formidable ability to know how to use his voice. They look like they are having fun as the rest of the drama club joins.
Quietly walking down, Stan scans the rows of seats. Only the fronts are occupied by the drama club and some of their friends. He picks a seat in one of the middle rows, trying to be more discreet to not miss a single lyric.
Kenny obviously notices him by his smile and wink. Stan offers a vague greeting as he puts his empty backpack between his feet. He continues his song with the rest of the club, clearly earning the cheering of the small public and Tweek sounds happy at the piano. Stan is actually a bit jealous - and surprisingly about every stupid thing. He wishes he had the same amazing vocal cords or Tweek’s talent for music. Even if Tweek assured many times that it is not the case and he just spends a lot of time playing music. Stan doesn’t have anything special but he knows to be happy for them.
“So— you are back?”
Stan looks up at Kenny, a bit surprised since he didn’t register the end of the song and his arrival. The rest of the drama club has taken over Tweek who seems to discuss how they should synchronize for some parts.
“Kind of, yeah,” Stan breathes out as Kenny settles down by his side. He looks at his stretched legs on the front seat, a short jean skirt almost reaching his knees. “Nice skirt. You aren’t cold without tights?”
“Who cares if I look out,” he says and gestures toward the play with his head. “I could have the lead part.”
“The girl or boy one?”
“Both.” He proudly smirks and Stan returns a small one.
“Then why aren’t you on the scene?”
“My part-time job.”
Stan silently crosses his arm after he glances at the stage when the piano restarts. “It’s too bad that you don’t have the time to be in.”
“Nah, that’s not a big deal.” Kenny shrugs off.
“So, Tweek is playing the piano for the play?”
“Yeah, more time away from home.”
Stan can’t agree more with that idea. He quietly listens to the melody and the few people trying to get on the rhythm with their own lines.
“Where is Tolkien?”
“I don’t know, he left after we played a bit. Cartman was still trying to get us on his weird business project.”
“The one with the videos?”
“Yeah, he wants us to do some weird-ass clips to post it online. He even said that Craig would film us. I honestly don’t know if it’s true but it’s getting annoying.”
“He has always been like that.”
He can feel Kenny’s gaze on him but he doesn’t dare to return it, preferring to focus on the play or how focused Tweek is.
“Did you talk with Kyle?”
“Did you talk with Butters?”
The retort is way more aggressive than Stan wants to and it stings a bit.
“You know I’m trying to help you,” Kenny sighs out, “Kyle looked— well, not like shit but knowing him he was feeling bad.”
“What, there wasn’t his boyfriend to cheer him up?” Stan slightly scoffs, glancing at his sneakers.
“Geez, you jealous shit. You know a boyfriend isn’t going to replace you or what you two have.” Stan purses his lips, sharply breathing in and bottling up whatever is creeping out of his heart. “Look— maybe, maybe we are wrong and Kyle is really into Davíd now,” Kenny continues, unaware of the odd shiver passing through his friend’s body, “but you guys have to settle things now. Friendship or whatever else, I know both of you and you two will literally not turn out well if you stay like that. Also I’m sure you could win Kyle back from him if you need to.”
“You talk like we were never on bad terms, we— aren’t going to die without each other,” Stan softly argues even if he is lying through his teeth.
“Dude, maybe Kyle believes that but I know you don’t.”
“Shut up.”
“Nah I’m serious, you guys are a thing it will change you two even if you don’t want to,” he calmly explains, “but I don’t think you two will stop being friends. You just need to talk a bit.”
Stan has actually been thinking about it, with every possible ending. Honestly, he doesn’t feel up to it at all. Maybe it is better for Kyle to get Stan out of his life. But just like he can’t imagine Kyle dying before him, he can’t accept that their roads separate because of that.
“I’m going to— talk to him when-”
“You have balls?”
“Shut up, like you are better,” he spits with a frown at him, “did you talk to Butters or shit your pants.”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” Kenny retorts with no malice on his features.
Stan waits for any trace of jokes on his face before his eyes quietly widen as he straightens himself on his seat with a small admiration. “You did? And what?”
“He wants to meet up, almost got out of it but,” Kyle pauses with a small dubitative grimace, letting his feet loudly fall on the floor. “He weirdly managed to trap me? I don’t know how but tomorrow night I’m passing by his dormitory.”
“Fuck, really? Like in his room?”
Kenny snorts. “You sound like a virgin. Yeah, we aren’t going to meet at ten pm in the cold. There will be his roommate,” he quickly clarifies and returnes his gaze on the playing piano, “and I’m bringing Tweek.”
Stan stares in surprise at his plan, feeling weirdly proud of his friend but it turns bitter at his own lack of courage. “Tweek agreed to that?”
“Nah, I’m going to kidnap him. I don’t want it to turn awkward so I need my support.”
Stan scoffs. “Okay, you aren’t going to convince Tweek to follow you in your car without freaking out. He will bite you before you can touch him.”
“Well I will tell him that I have a surprise for him, he likes them.”
“Since when? Tweek hardly likes surprises, remember his parents telling him that they had a big awesome surprise for him when they just renovated the coffee shop?”
“I do great surprises!” Kenny argues - with dramatic moves of his hands.
“Yeah, like using him as a lifejacket is going to be a good surprise,” Stan mocks.
“At least, I do something in my life,” he points out with a sigh and gracefully crosses his legs. The skirt is not long enough to even be at the middle of his thighs now. “But seriously I told Tweek and I convinced him to come. Butters’ roommate will be here and we won’t stay that long.”
Stan is a bit relieved that Tweek is actually on the plan. His expression must have not properly shown that because Kenny pats his thigh. He glances away from the stage to have an unsurprising view of the blond’s boxer. Stan calmly looks up to the wide smirk on Kenny’s face.
“You know I don’t want to see your stupid dick— and never will,” Stan quickly specifies. “Tweek also told me it’s smaller than a baby shrimp.”
“Wanna see if he is lying?” Kenny teases and just chuckles at his refusal, letting his skirt properly fall back.
Stan offers a dry chuckle before he notices that the play looks to reach its end. “I’m going— to go.”
“To talk with Kyle?”
“Urgh, I don’t know yet.”
“Alright, but come tomorrow I heard your coach is really angry at you missing that much.”
Stan nods with a small grimace before he leaves his seat to quickly walk away from the hall.
He isn’t sure where to go. His guts are still too empty to go to Kyle's. His car is warm and it leaves him sleepy before he startles awake when he recognizes some members of the basketball team leaving the building. Stan quickly drives away, trying to find his escape on the small roads.
Loneliness is sitting on the passenger seat. A familiar friend, always here in a somber corner of his mind, that only watches. He doesn’t know if it’s out of fear that it’s here or if it has a more concrete root. Maybe he should have tried one more time with those counselors.
Kyle would tell him that they studied and it's their job to help - so why would they not be good, but Tweek would say that’s not how you trust someone. This comment possibly got in Stan’s head; sharing your personal problems with strangers who can easily abuse it for pleasure or money.
He tries to check the activities inside the Broflovski's house when he reaches his own. His eyes catch nothing from the windows. Not bothering to correctly put his jacket on the rack once he steps inside his home, he runs up to his room and throws his empty backpack in a corner, right before he dives back in his bed.
It reeks of possibly what sadness must smell like. He usually registers the sharp stink of alcohol as it but it can probably change. Opening his windows asks for an energy that he barely holds on but he forces himself to do it.
His eyes pause on the window in front of him. It’s not Kyle’s but Ike’s and he perfectly remembers how they harassed Sheila during middle school to have the two of them swapping their bedrooms. Now it sounds silly since Ike’s room is a bit smaller than his brother’s but at that time it was really important to have a direct way to see each other even during the night. Stan must certainly be the only one attached to this memory now.
He puts on his earphones, letting his body fall deep in his bed for some comfort. The first music hits right into his bitter feelings but he quickly changes to find one Kyle doesn’t like. His eyes almost close as his spirit is slowly but surely luled away.
Stan hears a small odd noise but can’t bring himself to be bothered by it; more engrossed to fall deeper in his emotionless hole.
“Stan!” He startles out of his stupor and meets his mother’s eyes. She smiles as he stumbles on getting out of his bed and not breaking his earphones by a wrong move.
Seeing her actually cheers him up. “Hey mom.” Sharon hugs him, stroking his back a bit and he returns it with a small smile. “How was work?”
“Good, good.” It doesn’t seem to be a lie but that there is nothing interesting to say. “How do you feel? Did you see your friends?”
She deliberately inches a bit away to look at his face. He tries to look at the wall but doesn't have the strength to do that to his mother now. “Kind of— yeah, I talked with Kenny,” he admits with a weird guilt at her grin.
“That’s great,” she says and caresses his cheeks. “Do you want to eat together tonight? Maybe outside?”
“If you want to, I don’t mind.” Stan says and worries his lip. “You— sure that’s a good idea to leave the house to Randy for the night?”
His mother has the same grimace as him but it quickly melts away in a sigh and she softly eases him back in a side-hug.
“Do you want him to come with us?” She asks with a careful tone.
“No no, it’s a good idea mom. I prefer the two of us,” he says, feeling ridiculous at his urge to justify anything about his father. Though he doesn’t want her to think he is heartless. “What do you want to eat tonight?”
“I was thinking vietnamese? I don’t know— maybe you want something else?”
“Sounds good to me.” His lips curl up with a small tingle.
“Okay, we can leave whenever you are ready, alright?”
He nods. “Sure. I will uh, wear something else from a sweatshirt.”
His mom smiles, leaving his room, after he strolls to his dresser to show his determination.
Weirdly enough when the Marsh’s house fell apart: the sister is missed by the brother, the son starts to actually stop losing time with his dysfunctional parent to find the only one who actually cares for his life. Plus his mom is more beautiful and happy without a burden called Randy. She still pities him enough to let him have the basement after his weed farm crashed down.
He tries his best to pick a great shirt or at least something that wouldn’t betray that he almost spent a week in his bed crying every hour. His mom looks like she is having a great day and he doesn’t want to spoil the rest of it.
She is busy tidying her purse when he walks down the stairs. “Do you want to drive there?”
Stan ponders it as he ties his sneakers. “No, that’s fine.”
In the car, she lets him pick the music and explains that a friend mentioned this vietnamese restaurant and she has wanted to try it after so long.
“I haven’t heard you play in a while,” she comments, beating her fingers on the wheel, the same habit as Stan. “You haven’t stopped, have you? I enjoy waking up to your misconnected guitare,” she teases with a smile.
“That— happened only one time,” he groans and tugs on his hat to sulk with a faint embarrassed flush. “We still play, now I just know how to be discreet. And at high school it’s easier since I— we can be as loud as we want.”
Sharon fondly chuckles and glances at him with sparkling eyes. “Are you going to try to play at a high school event? Won’t that be good?”
“I guess, maybe. PC checks us out sometimes.”
His mother hums in response, she would probably like it if it happens. Stan is bored by himself so he plays with the radio until he finds an old-fashioned station. He glances at his mom who starts to sing and nudges him to follow her lead.
Sharon parks in front of a small restaurant. It looks really genuine and natural or at least from what Stan knows about Vietnamese culture. He follows her inside while she mentions some of the meals her friend recommended. He picks the meal that sounds the best, while she follows the recommendation, not really looking at what is in it as long as it’s without meat.
“Stan, sweetie, do you want to talk about it?”
Slightly biting on his bottom lip, he glances at her before a sigh slips out. “There is nothing to talk about,” he pauses, “I don’t know.”
“But you know that you can tell me everything, right?” She softly says and briefly thanks the waiter before she pats his hand.
He curls it a bit into a fist but tries not to, faintly returning the affectionate gesture.
“I know,” he confirms.
She smiles. “Good.”
Stan restrains whatever lie he is going to blurt out to make her believe him—he feels that his tone will betray him. “I love you mom,” he mombles to not be heard by other people.
“Me too sweetie.” A small laugh comes but it barely dissipates his embarrassment of saying it in public. He is going to look like a mama boy. Stan has to clear his throat when the meals arrive. “Thank you.”
Stan quickly dives in, feeling soon too choked up to even finish his plate. His stomach seems to have needed something to digest.
“Mom.”
“Yeah?”
“What would you think if I was homosexual?”
Stan isn’t sure if his voice travelled to the other side of the table. His words are a simple buzz in his ears and nothing is clearing the overwhelming mess in his head. He recognizes in the blur the abrupt stop of the sound of the cutlery. The view of his plate looks more important than anything else.
“Stan?” Her son reluctantly peers up. “Sweetie, it’s you. I won’t be happy if you aren’t honest with yourself and happy.” She almost smiles, but it’s shy, and seems overwhelmed by small tears but quickly wipes them away. “Are you?”
“I don’t uh,” he breathes out before he slightly grimaces. “I still think girls are… nice but also-”
“Men,” Sharon finishes but it sounds very odd. “Is this why you-“ the pause makes him swallow a sob—“or are you scared of that?”
“No, maybe, I,” he has to clear his throat and moisten his lips. He traps his tongue between his teeths several times before finding his words, “I do love someone. A guy—Kyle.”
Nothing leaves his mom’s lips. It’s not unexpected but it’s something he would have wished not to witness it. He only becomes aware of where they are when the waiter comes to clean the table and hands them the smaller menus of desserts. His face tries to smile at him to not be rude but he could feel the small burning sensation in his eyes.
“We will take desserts, yes,” Sharon finally says, having a better control of her emotions than him. The waiter leaves with a nod. “Stan, sweetie.” He meets her eyes with his full attention, almost leaving his chair since he kept fidgeting on it. “You don’t have to feel bad for it.” But he isn’t sure how not to. “I— I’m happy that you talked about it and maybe come out. Is this why you and Kyle stopped to talk?”
“No, no, I...” His throat gulps down the painful sobs trying to escape. “I didn’t– I don’t know if I should because he has a, uh, boyfriend.”
“Oh,” she pauses with uncertainty, “really?”
“Yeah.”
His mom nods with a grim smile and opens her menu with her eyes still on him. “I understand now.”
“I’m… sorry.”
“There is nothing, absolutely nothing for you to be sorry for,” Sharon quickly affirms, grabbing his shaky hands, “alright? Do you want to— tell it to Randy, maybe?” She doesn’t seem convinced and even a bit relieved at his disagreeing sign of the head.
“He doesn’t need to know. He will be an ass like always.” She doesn’t argue with that, instead she offers a warm amused smile. He glances at his menu, taking back one of his hands from her embrace but letting the second one linger in the contact. “We should choose our desserts.”
“Okay.”
They barely talk until they get home, only commenting stuff about the restaurant or the road. It isn’t awkward and Randy isn’t home yet, probably fucking off somewhere. Hopefully he doesn’t come back one day.
Her mother offers to watch a movie, wherever he wants to - by that she means they can use the nest his father had built in the basement after they properly stopped to share their bed.
He almost says they can go in his room but quickly changes his mind since it isn’t that appealing with his sheets filled with tears. In the living room they could definitely end up being interrupted by Randy which would be disturbing and not necessary but he can guess that they are not going to watch a lot of the movie. His mom is waiting for him to open up and he wantsto.
They start to cry after the first twenty minutes. Stan feels like a five year old again, clinging to his mother in despair that he can’t understand what is going on in his head. It feels good.
It is pouring out of his secluded chest. His thoughts and feelings aren’t really translated but at least he tries to share it with another heart. Maybe that is the power of a mother because he feels good at letting go of most of it - though he is a bit mad at making her cry too. It doesn’t exactly ease the urge to drink until it burns his stomach.
The next day he wishes that he has been struck with cholera or something that would make him miss school. Sharon insists multiple times that hiding won’t make things great either and that maybe seeing his friends - she doesn’t mention Kyle but she clearly hesitates to - will make him feel better.
He drives to school so on his way he offers to bring Tweek since he doesn’t talk with a lot of people that share his bus line. The short trip is appeasing but short. They quickly settle on what band to listen to and just talk about the weather.
Everything goes down when Stan and Kyle meet. It’s only their eyes but Kyle might have looked for it since he passes by Stan’s locker. It’s one of the main corridors but he could have avoided it. It doesn’t last long before Kyle looks away but just the fresh image of his virid eyes reminds Stan why he is madly in love with him. Kyle walks away without any words.
Stan tries to persuade himself that it could be intentional; that Kyle wants to show him something like ‘I don’t care about an asshole like you’ and he knows he deserves it but at the same time that cheers him up a bit that Kyle still thinks about him one way or another. During lunch, Stan doesn’t find the strength to walk in the cafeteria to possibly see him with his boyfriend. Possibly flirting by light touch or joking through sweet words. Stan can’t let his jealousy win but he also can’t watch any of these with a straight face. His stomach almost eats itself when he pictures the possibility that Davíd might speak Spanish to Kyle to slip nauseating flirts - if Kyle likes this then Stan is fucked because he doesn’t have another language like that.
The painful heartbeats start to get to him when he arrives in class and has to suffer the proximity of his seat and Kyle’s. Stan is sure that his staring isn’t discreet at all since he is clearly lying on his crossed arms and facing him. It doesn’t seem to bother Kyle, though he can see the short moments where he starts to feel upset by his jaw and eyebrows. He still has the same posture as usual; his head is resting in the palm of a hand and his eyes barely leave the black board, if they fall on his criterion and not on his paper, it means he is in his mind. Kyle is his unintended.
After his contemplation, the rest of the day is a blur. When he sees his father lying on the couch at home, a violent wave of sickness hits him and he quickly goes upstairs. Maybe Stan is really turning into a Randy. He tries to bury this idea under the blanket he uses to choke himself out of the world.
He glances up to his wall, decorated with fragments of his childhood. A few lightbulbs from garlands, some aren’t working anymore and he needs to replace them, makes his room look cozy. It could almost make his bedroom feel like a sanctuary, something private and holy, but he is missing Kyle at his side watching some movies or playing video games. Pictures are also pinned on his wall, coming from an old polaroid camera her mother used in the past and he had found himself fond of. There is charm in silly pictures, more natural and while they aren’t always perfect - it’s his favorite. Kyle hates to be photographed in general and the polaroid is even worse but Stan prefers to take him by surprise. They are the pictures that look the most like he sees him.
Stan collects some of them to have a better look. His contemplation starts with the ones with only Kyle, that time he fell in a creek during a hike or when they tried something too spicy for the both of them. Some still have Sparky, alive and old with the pink bandana he liked to wear and that Stan treasures under his pillow. There are more with his friends and he doesn’t realize that he took all the pictures down. He purses his lips in an attempt to destroy his feelings that keep trying to escape out of his heart. Nothing properly cries out, instead he feels like drowning.
One of the photos is from last summer. A real good time that shouldn’t be that nostalgic, but it certainly hits him that much because Kyle is brightly smiling on it with his single dimple, all of his red curls out and a peace sign and his other arm around Kenny’s shoulders. For peace and quiet, they drove to a city not far where the pool was bigger than at South Park. With the tropical decorations, they could almost be at a real beach if the warm tiles were replaced by sand. They spent the whole day there, needing two cars because Ike and Karen came with us. He smiles at the memory of Kyle falling asleep on the drive and Ike slipped as many chips in his shirt before it woke him up. Kyle always has a hard time waking up and always falls back asleep if nothing properly shakens him up. Stan has never minded it - Kyle could use him as a pillow for that matter and he would still be the happiest person in the world.
Stan has never been sure why Tweek hadn’t stayed in their gang when they were younger. He can’t say if something happened or their roads just drifted apart. Tweek isn’t that solitary but there is something reclused under his skin that he believes to understand. It doesn’t matter the why and how but he wonders if Tweek is aware of how important he is. It has not been that difficult to bring him to an open space like a pool but he asked for some negotiations. That they might see a lot of South Park folks out there convinced him. Tweek had a small crisis when Kyle mentioned about the hygiene of the place and even more of the possible persons peeing in the pool. They are both quickly disgusted by germs - though they don’t wear a mask like Kenny whenever he feels like it. But soon enough Tweek had been caught in the mood, swimming around and agreeing to go to the awesome water slide. Ike spent almost all of his time sliding it, even trying to climb it backward and almost brought Karen to tempt the experience too before Kenny grabbed them to throw them in the pool.
Stan is maybe fond of Ike since he is Kyle’s brother. They aren’t related by blood at all, but he often finds some similarities between them. He won’t say it outloud but he enjoys watching Kyle acting brotherly. It is always close to a motherly tone but not quite the same since he often agrees to Ike’s ideas for his pleasure—though he probably takes advantage of that.
“Fu-Ike! Don’t take the cereal now!” Kyle had screamed with a rush when he caught Ike taking them out of their shared bag. “Ike,” he tried to warn and Stan turned to watch the scene instead of throwing back the ball, “wait after lunch.”
His brother only snickered and cautiously jogged away with Karen who shot a small apologetic look after getting one of the cereal bars.
“I’m also starting to get hungry,” Stan told after Kyle huffed.
He glanced at him with a dubitative smile. “Did you eat this morning before we left?”
“Hum, just coffee,” he confessed with a small sheepish smile.
Kyle frankly rolled his eyes but let out a small agreeing sigh. “I guess we could eat now.”
“Yeah. Do you need to put some sunscreen on again?” Stan wondered, with a quick look-over of his skin as they swam to their spot.
“Urgh, already again? Maybe, I really don’t want a sunburn,” he groaned with a tired sigh at the idea as he allowed Stan to touch his shoulders without inching their chests away.
“You should, you are already hot.”
That hadn’t ring a bell at that time, but now Stan understands why Kyle’s face went bright red. He assumed that with the distance he simply hadn’t seen the burn on his cheeks before.
Kyle replied with a breathy chuckle before he shoved him a wave of water in his face. Stan was surprised by it but before he could retaliate, Kyle was climbing out of the pool. His eyes paused a bit on Kyle’s back when he did but Stan knew how to handle his traitorous eyes. Once he threw the inflatable ball to Tweek who was comfortably watching from his towel, he followed him.
“You hungry, Tweek?” Kyle asked, combing his curls with a hand as he looks for his towel.
“Urh— a bit,” he replied with his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.
“Where is Kenny?” Stan asked, peering a bit at Kyle drying his hair and just acknowledging Cartman sunbathing with his earphones on.
“I think he went flirting.”
The two youngest ones came back with Kenny and without any cereal bars left. Everyone took out their own sandwiches from their stuff except Cartman who went to buy some fries in addition. The rest of the day continued almost peacefully. Tweek sometimes left the shadow to have fun but at some point he settled on dozing; Cartman was either eating or just stayed on an air matela after he pushed Kyle from it. The two of them pestered each other for a long time before Kenny decided to throw a fit. Kyle kept on checking his skin since it was pretty sensitive, he would freeze for a beat to glance at his shoulders or ask one of them if his face wasn’t starting to be too red. Tweek puts a ton of sunscreen too, unlike Kenny who is also a blond but he always gets a nice tan and a few freckles. Stan always checked on Kyle’s skin, which is pretty easy for him since he stares at him most of the time.
It viciously brings the clear image of Kyle with his bathsuit to his mind. Probably because his skin easily reddens, Kyle doesn’t take off much clothes - even in front of Stan, always with pjs or light clothes during the summer but rarely revealing more than his arms and legs.Though Stan has a suspicion that it’s partly because of his many freckles that increased with time. He often finds new ones but he knows better than to tell him; he probably misses a lot since they are only noticeable if they are in a bunch or particularly dark which is rare.
The locker room is the only place where Kyle would undress but that’s different than at one of their homes or at the changing room at the pool. Kyle started to not change in front of Stan through their puberty. He never asked why or what does that mean but he misses this intimacy. A small quiet part of his brain tells him that’s better for his libido anyway.
The pool reminds him of the secrecy Kyle has toward his body. With only his dark purple swimbath, almost everything was exposed—to the start of his collarbone to the discreet but present bright brown gingerish hair disappearing in his swim shorts. Stan’s mouth was watering a bit too much to stay comfortable in the middle of a public pool and he tried to focus on the vague music of his earphones. Kyle has those light muscles from basketball that are easy to spot when swimming or when he pleasingly stretchs with small adorable grunts. He could appear skinny if you only looked from afar but his hips hold a bit of squish - Kenny and him always grabbed there to piss him off. It suits the rest of his body and particularly his ass. Not that it’s something new. Everybody knows about Kyle’s ass and even in new places Stan would notice many glances at it, even if he tries to hide it the best he can.
Stan always assists him - not only because he wants to keep that sight to himself. Maybe a bit.
While people told at the end of middle school that Kyle has ended up being one of the ‘ugly ducklings’, Stan was already mesmerized by the sharpness and intensity of his green eyes and the soft shade of his hair. There aren’t any arguments where Stan would accept to call him a ugly duckling. Kyle has always been handsome but he does get hotter over the years. Many parts of him tempts Stan to kiss him - the best way he can think of to thank Kyle for how he is. None of Kyle’s allure suddenly appeared through his puberty, it has always been here. Stan was just one of the first who realized it and he is ectastic about it - Bebe doesn’t count but she did too.
Stan watched Kyle swimming and playing in the pool from his spot on his towel, especially how his back moved under the heat and completely dryed out Stan’s mouth.
“Dude, you have an erection.” Kenny accused, shaking him out from his contemplation and Stan hurriedly folded his legs against his chest with a small panic.
His friend had a wild smirk behind the bubble-gum he keeps blowing and Stan decides to pursue his lips as innocently as possible. The new bubble burst, earning a small scowl from Stan.
“I don’t,” he articulated but still glanced at his body to be sure, until he returned to the game chicken pool between Kyle, Tweek and the youngsters.
“Definitely half though. Chubby.”
“That’s not true! And why would you look there?!” He let out in an embarrassing panic with a glare at him.
“You aren’t discreet when you check Kyle out, thank me for reminding you that jacking off here isn’t a good idea,” Kenny sweetly reminded, biting the end of his tongue between his teeth.
“I wasn’t—! I would never do that,” Stan groaned and put his head behind his folded arms on his knees.
“Okay, okay,” Kenny laughed and stood up, leaving his sunny spot, “still try to lay on your stomach if you are going to think about it,” he pressed walking toward the pool.
Stan snarled behind his lips before he glanced at the bags of his friends. He couldn’t leave to buy some cold drink so he conceded on laying on his stomach—but not because of what Kenny said. He busied himself with his playlist while his skin enjoyed the last sun rays of the day.
A soul crushing icy contact broke him out of his nap. He shifted immediately to see what asshole threw drops on him and he almost hit Kyle’s chin with his forehead.
“Careful! Sorry,” he breathed out in relief, hair dripping and water langorously rolling down his figure.
“You scared the shit out of me,” Stan confessed with a sigh. A smile bloomed at his chuckle as he reached for his bag at the other side of him. That time he smelt like the minty gum he was quietly munching on.
The droplets disappeared from his back to drop on Kyle’s towel on the ground. He folded one of his legs and looked for something in the bag between his thighs. Stan inadvertently licked his lips when he spotted Kyle’s pale surgery scar over his kidneys and his fingers almost betrayed him.
“Aren’t you going to get a sunburn like that?” Kyle asked with some water dripping from his mouth. Stan shook his head, fully turned toward him and resting his face against his crossed arms. “You’ve been lying for a while now,” he commented as he took his phone and the sunglasses he rarely wears.
“I’m fine,” Stan answered, watching him clumsily dry his hair with a hand as he checked his texts. “I forgot how nice summer is sometimes.” He was weirdly more accustomed to the heat pooling at the bottom of his stomach.
Kyle grinned at him and sat with crossed legs. Water drops continued their ride down his chest, some even passing on his nipples. Stan managed to focus his eyes on the green pupils, just noticeable enough behind thick dark shades.
“You are going to have a sunburn. You only put suncream when we arrived, which is hours ago,” Kyle argued and touched the end of his friend’s back with two fingers, causing Stan to jolt at the contrast of temperatures.
“Don’t touch me, your fingers are freezing!” Stan miserably hissed and frowned at his laugh when Kyle’s hand continued to pat his warm back.
“You are literally burning, of course I’m colder than you. Put on some sunscreen.”
“Can’t do it alone,” he stupidly countered out of laziness.
“Alright, you really are desperate without me,” Kyle conceded with a small joking snort, briefly looking in his bag to take out the sun cream from it. “Don’t cry if it’s too chilly.”
Stan furiously blushes at the memory of his hands rubbing the sunscreen in his back. He tried to convince himself that’s the difference of temperature that caused his boner but he knows it is a weak lie. Stan shakily exhales and pushes the picture on his nightstand to rub his face against his pillow. It isn’t the moment to have an erection now. He has to go talk to Kyle. He wants to solve this mess.
His fists tighten in the depth of his pockets when the winter silence blows away any possible sounds. Kyle is staring at him like it would be the last place for Stan to be, knocking at his door after school - even when they had grown up running at each other's doors. At first, Stan wanted to hold his gaze with the rush of bravery that made him leave his room, but he quickly gave up.
“Where are your parents?” Stan almost squeaks out while he shifts his weight on his feet. He noticed when he came back from school that the usual cars of the Broflovski are absent, but he thought they would have been back for dinner.
A small sigh echoes in front of him and when he looks up he sees Kyle crossing his arms over his loose sweatshirt.
“They took a small trip for a week. I think they are going to Broadway tonight,” he explains with a distant voice. He seems to prefer to watch the road than Stan.
“Oh.” Stan aimlessly nods as he contemplates the auburn curls out in the hair. He must have taken his shower not long ago since they are close to a frizzy sheep-like jew-fro. They will probably be cut in a few days.
“What do you want, Stan?”
He deflates a second when he notices how much on the defence he is. Kyle even has a pre-frown that only waits to deepen at whatever he will say.
“Can we— can we talk?” The brownish eyebrows twitch before the conflict softens from his face. “I’m not going to be an ass. We...” Stan awkwardly clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. “I just need to talk to you.”
Stan watches him Kyle nods after two seconds and holds the door for him to come in. He timidly steps in, feeling that at any moment he could break something and that his coat doesn’t even cover his overexposed heart.
“Come on,” Kyle says toward the stairs, his tone smoother now.
It might sound like that to Stan because he hasn’t heard it during the last few days, leaving him delirious. After kicking his shoes off, he quietly follows him up, gazing at the stairs to not look at Kyle’s ass—Stan needs his brain fully functional and having a single thought about it won’t help. He painfully knows that even a loose pair of pants might show the bewitching view under it.
His brain mangles itself at the short but vivid memory of his last time here. The lack of sound, the offense waiting for him in Kyle’s room with the far too rash image of two half-naked teens.
Stan mechanically exhales and glances at Ike’s door to guess if he is here. By the discreet light under it he probably is here and Stan pauses in the mantra of his speech to wonder if Kyle said something to Ike. It wouldn’t be surprising, they are close. But Stan naively hopes that Ike would take his side if he has to fight against Davíd.
Obviously, Kyle wouldn’t like it. That’s why Stan doesn’t plan to throw a punch at his boyfriend for now; but he does dream about it. He isn’t sure he has what’s necessary to compete with. Not that he isn’t determined. Stan can’t think of what he wouldn’t do for Kyle. His feelings are certainly greater than whatever Davíd is feeling for Kyle. There isn’t a possibility where his feelings wouldn’t get the first place. Though it’s double-edged. His love would burn his lungs or fill them, who cares.
A familiar, nostalgic smell graciously hits him when he steps in Kyle’s room. From here he can recognize the odor of Kyle’s hair product, close to honey but not quite, with the faint empyrean that follows Kyle. It isn’t cold - if anything it is hot but fresh. Stan wonders if he brought that from all the hikes they did, where he can recall this same sensation. Stan probably smells like a cheap thing, not shining out of the lot and barely exclusive. It isn’t fair.
Without surprise, Stan spots his computer on and recognizes the pause screen of Minecraft. He glances at Kyle settling down on his desk chair, with a slide of rollers he turns to face him.
“Minecraft?” Stan asks and hesitates to sit at the end of his bed. A small question if he plays with Davíd poisons his mind but he quickly supposes that he would more likely play with Tweek.
Kyle peeks at the screen behind him and purses his lips. “They added bees.” His simple explanation and excuse almost makes Stan tenderly smile. He would have if the situation is lighter and breezier.
With a small throaty noise he sits down on Kyle’s bed when he gets a hand sign that he can.
“If-if I start, can you not cut me?” He begins but has to quickly fill his lungs. “I don’t think I could continue if you ask something, you know.”
“Okay.”
The answer is quick. Too fast even. Stan has a hard time to gather back the words he has been thinking these past few days. His feet are stepping on each other over the soft carpet, trying to get the nerves to start to speak.
“I’m sorry.” He exhales, his body submitting to the guilt and sinking in the mattress. “About— well, the reaction about you and-and him. Davíd.” His blood seems to boil and he is so familiar with this jealousy that he could just high five it. “Just so you know, it’s not the whole liking boys thing. I was just, only surprised,” Stan clarifies with a small relief that he manages to drone off. “I guess I would have, hum, been less crazy if you had told me about you two being a thing,” he articulates and swallows, “I was an ass and I-I don’t know, I thought he would take my place or something.”
He looks up, not really searching for an answer yet but as he talks - Stan realizes how much he has missed him. Kyle is silently watching him, chin set on his knee. His eyes aren’t threatening but not soft either. Their gazes tangle, throwing out with a soft hurry the air out of Stan’s lungs. None of them seem to mind the stare but when he realizes that Kyle’s lips are about to open he quickly shakes his head. Not yet. Stan needs the silence for a second. It’s a one-way rollercoaster. Bumping, rattling him to shreds no matter the result.
“Stan.” He doesn’t give in despite wanting to. He busies himself by fiddling with the edge of the blanket he is on. “I should have told you, but it’s not— really easy,” Kyle explains and he can hear him spinning on his chair.
“I know.” Stan nods. He maybe knows too much about that. After he wets his lips, he looks up and seems to surprise the other for a second. “I’m sorry I was a dick, dude. Really— I just, uh, don’t really like Davíd.”
He is beyond honest and it feels good about not having to lie in a way or another. Maybe he could say more, like his true feelings and why he got so messed up. Or that he probably writes a lot of his songs about Kyle with a loyal passion.
“You guys never were really friends,” Kyle comments after a short silence, not fully understanding but it doesn’t sound like a complaint.
“I guess, I will have to now.” He peers up and tries a small smile. “Because I miss you.”
Kyle blinks at him over his knee before he glances away, biting on his lip. Stan is worried for a second that he doesn’t want them to be friends anymore. This is going to slowly suffocate him. But he supposes he could do that if it makes Kyle happier.
“I’m not with Davíd anymore.”
His body doesn’t know how to react, going through confusion, excitement, relief and euphoria. A frown appears all over him before he notices on Kyle’s face that it isn’t a lie. His heart thumps with delight and an overwhelming palpitation breaks his freeze.
“What?”
“Wouldn’t have worked,” he simply says.
Stan feels his mouth twitch in joy but he promptly faces the ground. None of the possible scenarios that he pictured brought to that result. Once he hoped that they would start to make out in the middle of their reconciliation but that was just for his own nightly dreams.
“But,” he grimaces at his voice cracking, “why?”
Kyle opens his mouth and closes it with a sigh. He slowly stands up and sits next to him. His knees are up against him, just as a barricade.
“I just couldn’t see how— it would have continued. Here. Maybe if we were older or something,” he explains with a low tone, staring at the floor before his tongue peers out. “I guess.”
Shame on his bliss to deflate that fast. Stan just wants to bury it away and make it appear like he never hasn’t thought about it. Older. It definitely means that Kyle wanted to restart this in university with Davíd.
“It-it’s not because of me, right?” Stan asks with one breath and watches the shock pass on his face. “Of my, hum, reaction.”
His virid eyes are forbidden for a beat before they melt into something beautiful, yet sad. “No,” he whispers back almost too quietly, “n-not because of you, Stan.” Kyle instantly frowns after his words and shakes his head with a small snort. “I mean it would have been annoying if you were homophobic I would have to kick your ass.”
Stan chuckles a bit. “Of course.” Of course, not me. “You would have beaten the shit out of me,” he agrees and hopes his voice could carry amusement over his anguish.
The ginger laughs with a nod, relaxing and bringing back the usual expression he always has with Stan—naturally splendid. Their eyes hesitantly meet again. Kyle sets himself free from his cage, letting his leg unfold to cross the line between them. Stan returns the hug without realizing it. As soon as the warmth hits him in the guts, he can feel how the butterflies in the depth of his stomach are feeding on it. Stan squeezes tighter.
Honey with a touch of lotus fragrance. He breathes it in, foolishly hoping that he would store that smell in his mind for whenever he misses it, as he rubs his head against Kyle’s neck and a part of his hair.
“I missed you too, dude,” Kyle mumbles, holding him strong around the waist.
It tingles Stan when Kyle buries his head deeper against his throat, pressing their chests tight. Their heartbeats interact like two lost whales finally finding the other, rabitting and singing. He keeps his hold - fearing that he has never left his bed and is only dreaming. But his throat is rashly dry and he wants to ask Kyle to ressource it somehow. A kiss would definitely help that.
Stan restrains it close to his heart that keeps having too many somersaults for him to handle. A vicious acidic savor sarcastically wakes up to climb up his throat. His head brushes against the top of Kyle’s and he wonders if he should open his eyes.
He distinctly remembers what is their first and only kiss. Being friend Kenny immediately teaches you the vivid realization that you can smooch anyone even if you both have a dick. And honestly Stan had wanted to kiss Kyle for a long time now. His super best friend has been the first one to appear in his mind at the thought. Except that Stan can’t just ‘go for it’, instead he had just offered something along the lines of checking if they are into guys or not.
His stomach had immediately answered after they kissed. Stan never swallowed something so gross and sour but it’s better than letting Kyle see him throw up right away. It was a relief that he didn’t vomit on Kyle but he had to quickly leave for the bathroom to properly do so when he had felt a second wave climbing up.
They stay glued against each other, breathing in their presences as being alive seem to just be about that. He blinks his eyes open, not surprised that he is facing thick curls and that he wants to play with them. Instead his gaze travels down, savoring the ass sitting close to him and he wonders if maybe he can drag Kyle on his laps. Stan chews on his lips to have distraction to get rid of a dangerous taste burning in his stomach. He can’t see if Kyle still has his eyes closed, so he slips his hands around his waist to keep them close as they fall on the bed.
Since they were kids they have hugged. As Stan grew older, he probably used that habit more often than necessary to have some skinship with Kyle; but now it is a fountain where he could rejuvenate, over and over with the blossom of heartbeats echoing throughout.
Kyle settles his head on the blanket but there isn’t enough distance for them to actually see their faces. They are still on each other, embracing. Stan slowly breathes. The blood pumping under skin shivers as it finds back a lost treasure. He feels crazy - instead of ascending out of his misery he feels more like he is falling down. Brutally beaten down and yet he loves every second of that when his eyes meet virid irises.
Every time, he is only falling harder. It fucks him up—the question to actually survive if he told Kyle. Maybe it is better to die rejected. He is scared himself of how much Kyle feels like the sun to him. It’s just enough to not shut his eyes down forever and keep fighting. He doesn’t want to appear scary or needy for him.
“You okay?”
Stan watches the movements of his lips before hearing them. Forcing his eyes to come up, he lazily smiles.
“I’m just tired, sorry.” This faint snort - the one Kyle always does when he is intrigued and amused but in a simple caring way. It still hits Stan’s inner core. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”
Kyle watches him before he slightly leans back his head, gently bringing his eyelashes together and it should be illegal how delicate it looks. Stan’s mouth waters with arousal.
“You looked like a kicked puppy in front of my porch,” he chuckles and meets back his blue gaze with his head still titled. “I wasn’t going to scream at you like that.”
Stan laughs, more than necessary, drinking in the satisfied grin on his face. He is going to say that he loves him. But it doesn’t seem to be right, it would take advantage of a wound and certainly his when it was still acute.
He blindly looks at him, looking for words that won’t throw their moment away. But he can’t shake off his focus or play a character when he is around Kyle.
“Hey, hum, can I ask something? Gay?” His cerulean eyes are stubbornly staying on the pattern of the sheet.
Kyle doesn’t exactly stiffen but his body reacts first. He straightens, reaching for the light on his night table to turn it on as his computer’s screen is on sleep. The lack of light hasn’t bothered Stan and he has a suspicion that he simply wants to have something to do.
“About— Davíd?” He slowly asks, settling back down in front of him with a finger of distance. “Like what?”
“Like, well, stuff. You did. With him,” Stan admits and clears his throat since it doesn’t stop wavering.
There is an uncomfortable silence with their eyes set and locked with each other.
“What do you want to know? We literally did what everybody else does,” Kyle says, slightly on the defensive as he obviously doesn’t like the question but he stubbornly answers anyway. “Just like you did with all those girls.”
Stan purses his lips without noticing and he quickly tries to restrain this reaction to be noticeable. “You-you two had sex?”
He has never been more disgusted by that notion. Frankly, Stan only had sex once, but he had never shared about it and only mentioned to his friends that he isn’t a virgin. Though no details are available for them—as to why he did it with a girl that he could only remember because of her bright red hair. He feels bad enough already about the people he had been dating while he mused to either gather courage or try to forget about his feelings for Kyle.
“No.”
“Oh.”
He shouldn’t have asked, but his curiosity is inclined to torture Stan. Though he is curious about why it never happened - Kyle hasn’t looked interested in sex for a while but then Kenny has been far too early into that and it seemed to disgust him a bit. This is one of the few things they barely talked about; Stan doesn’t know what Kyle is interested in but if he isn’t sex it wouldn’t be a problem for him. He simply wants to make Kyle as happy as possible.
“Why did you react like that?” Kyle slowly whispers, staring at him with a dubious and pained face.
Stan needs to gulp down to digest the obvious pain in his words. He is trapped between being a sore liar or spilling out the complete truth. The latter might destroy him if it doesn’t go well and there is no way out. Kyle is the last person in the world he would lie to though; except when it’s about who finished the snacks when they all hang out.
“Like what?” He articulates with a fake innocence that his friend immediately pierces with a click of his tongue.
“Like I— as if I chose Cartman over you.” Stan is glad that he attempts to joke, which quietens the rumble in his head. “Which I never would by the way.”
“You know sometimes I thought fatass had some kind of crush on you. That’s why he always tries to annoy you so much.”
Kyle gags and dangerously sways backwards, rolling on his bed like he is dying. “Please kill me if that’s true.”
Stan chuckles but it’s brief as Kyle turns back to him, slightly smiling before he goes back to a more serious frown. He is clearly itching to get an answer which he deserves.
He glances back at the blanket. “I-I just didn’t expect to walk in on you making out with him.”
“You can say his name, it’s not Voldemort.”
“I know,” he embarrassingly groans. “It’s just something I never thought could happen.”
“What?” Kyle almost barks back but it falls flat and hurt. “Me dating someone?”
“No! Of course not,” Stan promises with a small distress at his fast conclusion. “I already told you that you’re a catch. I’m not lying, I really think so.” Kyle mockingly snorts with clear distrust. “Why are you thinking that I would think that?”
“I don’t know, I’m average. You were always popular, quarterback and all that tropes and— it’s just like my mom, you would probably not say the hurtful truth,” he elaborates but his unemotional tone doesn’t hold on that it still hurts.
“I’m serious. And-and I’m not a popular guy. I’m just not an ass compared to most people. Like Craig he is an ass.”
“Sure, alright, okay.”
“Kyle, I’m serious, don't make me kick your ass.”
He sighs back and it’s clear that he isn’t convinced but he is starting to get flustered. “Answer my question Stan.”
He looks at thim and finally decides to nudge his friend, getting closer.
“You just never told me about him, like if you had a crush or something like that for Davíd,” he tries to explain as naturally as possible. “And one day I found you two… almost naked and clearly sucking each other's mouths.”
“I wasn’t sure how to tell you that I-I liked a guy,” Kyle mutters, muffling his head against his blanket.
“You like him?” Stan blurts out with a twist of pain, hesitating to lean away.
“I don’t know if I like like him-”
“What– so, he is your style?”
“Stan! Dude! Let me talk!” He exclaims and punches his shoulder with a frown. “Geez. I listened to you s the least is to hear me back”
“Sorry,” he mumbles.
“Davíd,” Kyle starts, with too much undertone in it, “is just someone I could talk with easily and he told me that he likes me so-”
“Really?”
“Maybe he lied, I don't know. Though I can’t see why he would bother himself to just make out.”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s all.”
Stan is almost speechless if his brain isn’t screaming that, of course, Davíd has a crush on Kyle - how could he not?
“I’m not having a problem with you liking dudes,” he insists.
Kyle is comfortably looking at him and his lips twitch before he gives an honest but small smile. “Okay.”
Stan feels like that if he lets his feelings out they would completely outbalance the world by their weight. There is the mystery of how he has never noticed his feelings, especially how to keep building up to no end. All of their friends know about it and they are not all smarter than Kyle. It sends a tension through his limbs and Stan finds himself itching to do something, anything that would make his Super Best Friend happy.
“Kyle.”
He gets a hum in reply, blinking his eyes open until he realizes that Stan stands above him and frowns. It’s quick, childish when he tackles him into a half-wrestle but compared to years ago Stan became a real football player, and knocks out the air of his lungs without realizing. Kyle isn’t scrawny at all and he has muscles but the surprise attack works and he wheezes for a moment before catching on.
“What the fuck, dude!” He groans trying to roll away and starts to wrestle with him. They throw weak punches, which is good because Kyle has a mean hook, and it dissolves into laughter as they keep going at it.
Stan bites down a groan when a fist hits him in the elbow, stricking him with these annoying throbs. He decides to use his secret card and tickles him. A high-pitched gasp escapes Kyle before violent chuckles echoes around them. He tries to curl up and kick away Stan’s hands tickling all of his sensible spots. Stan sets him free at last, laughing at the immediate punch at his shoulder and lets Kyle push him away with a kick.
He lets him punch again with only a laugh as Kyle grumbles that he is a child. Stan pensively hums, feeling lighter as he watches how red his face became with just messing for one minute. Kyle is faking his grumpiness, he can easily read it, and he relishes on it as he meets Stan’s unwavering eyes. His green irises aren’t as bright as they would be under the sun but they still hold many emotions, like a small fire waiting to be cared for. It always gives Stan this same feeling that he drank a barrel full of love - it’s never enough because he keeps staring and earning without finding a way to be satisfied. Kyle makes him desire too many things, letting him astray in the ocean.
“You’re handsome.”
He notes the small conflict passing on Kyle’s face, reddening and he quickly looks away as he moistens his lips. “Sure. Thanks,” Kyle shyly mutters.
“I’m serious-”
“Alright, okay, I believe you.”
Stan lets himself smile a bit but his eyes are still static, not managing to look or think of something else. His hand slithers its way into the curled hair. Kyle allows it, obviously not understanding what he is up to, but he allowsw it - maybe out of pity. They are soft but tricky. His fingers are careful to not be trapped within the curls so he doesn’t have to hurt him when he will tuck them away. It is already a small miracle that Kyle would let him touch his head.
There aren’t many times where he would allow that and it could be only thanks to their fight and reconciliation. Stan wants to take this reverie with him and everywhere. The sight soon chokes him up as he recognizes that Kyle relaxes into it. Now bracing himself on his elbow to fill his hands only with Kyle - Stan is at the edge of a fire.
He doesn’t want to fight it but to embrace it. They are already coursing through his veins; it’s the only reason why he can feel this appetite without being scared. All the discreet details are layed out in front of him. Stan doesn’t know where to look because there isn’t one thing that he wouldn’t want to know.
One of his fingers retraces them without Stan’s consent, brushing the small discreet scar close to his chin from Kyle’s first bike accident or another beauty mark near his left ear. His hands always come back to cup his marvelous cheeks and they instinctively squeeze when he notices Kyle’s conflicted eyes.
He is about to say something but doesn’t. Instead, he grabs Stan’s hands to lift them away—from him. Stan realizes that his throat is trapped, even when he gulps down he can’t step out of its daze. A faint blush drapes them both. It’s soothing Stan’s fear and irrational desire to trap him here forever within his reach. Kyle purses his lips in a pensive way and decides to glance away.
It’s late. Stan's mom is probably wondering what is taking Stan so long to come back to eat dinner.
Except that— it doesn't matter in his mind. He thinks back about Kyle leaving his boyfriend and the high chances that he can find another one anytime he would want to. Davíd could be staring at his phone right now, expecting a text from Kyle to start dating again. Stan will see him with someone else one day or another, which he can force himself to be fine with. But he will never find another love. Even if he wants to, he won’t. Kyle and love work hand in hand in his mind and Stan is happy with it even if it hurts.
This thought snatches the faint insouciance like a reprimand. It’s demanding, sorrowful and preening to harass him worse. His core is throbbing in an uncomfortable way - slowly filling him up with threatening tears.
“I’m so much in love with you, Kyle,” Stan whispers.
He could kiss him right now. It’s all very tempting, even the wide stunned eyes and the weak croak leaving Kyle as he starts to blush. Stan can only offer a small, watery smile.
“W-What? Stan?”
“I’m serious,” he confesses with a nod, feeling shaky but he is scared that if he moves it will all be lost forever. “Dude, I’m so jealous of Davíd. You have no idea how sick I was-”
“Stan are you fucking kidding me?!” Kyle snaps.
He is pushed back too fast for him to react. His back hits the bed and the tears take it as a sign to start to spill which only gets Kyle to look panicked. Stan has no idea what it means but he figures that it’s not worth it to lie or try to turn it around. It escaped him this time and while it’s not a complete relief, it somehow soothes his thirst.
“I’m not-”
Kyle literally climbs on him to keep him stuck in his bed, almost looking hysterical. It goes from astonished, to unbelieving and almost happy too fast for Stan to understand all of it. Whatever goes through his mind slows down when he sees the tears starting to drop.
“Holy shit, Stan, don’t start to cry.”
“I just don’t want you to be weirded out,” he articulates and he is glad that he isn’t completely crying to still be coherent. “Kenny and Tweek keep saying that you might like me back and I don’t know it just slip out of my mind-”
“Stan!” Kyle barks out, looking freaked out before he softens when Stan fully faces him. “Oh my God– okay listen to me, Stan. Since when? I didn’t even think you were into guys.”
“I’m into you, I dunno about o-”
“Since when?”
He scrunches up his nose when he feels some snot slowly dripping. Kyle holds his face now so he can’t even try to hide it.
“Forever? I don’t really know but I think it’s always been-”
“You didn’t throw up,” he argues. “When we kissed, you didn’t throw up. And I know it’s your tell, Stan. You threw up for Wendy and that girl during the summer break when you were thirteen-”
“I fucking swallowed it, okay?” Stan blurts out. “I didn’t want to throw up on you so I swallowed and when I came back home I threw up like five times before I could calm down!”
Kyle blinks at him, his brain clearly working fast behind his nervous eyes and a smile almost blooms there before the door is kicked open.
“Hey, so I want pizzas and-” Ike freezes once he looks up from his phone.
Stan has an awful angle to look at him, especially with Kyle on his waist - which he only realizes now as his skin hastily heats up. He hasn’t moved from his spot on him, simply looked behind to see Ike but he must have the same look as his brother.
He only reacts when Ike takes a picture.
“Ike!”
“Since when are you boyfriends?!” He exclaims, sounding happy. “And if you’re going to make out, just tell me so I can leave the house-”
“We are not! Erase that picture Ike!” Kyle argues and finally stands up.
Stan hesitates but quickly folds his legs in case he has a boner - too many things are happening at once for him to be sure of what is real or not.
“No, I’m going to make it into a t-shirt,” Ike announces. “And I’m going to order all the pizzas I want if you don’t want me to send it to ma’!” He laughs and runs away before Kyle can catch him.
“Fucking hell–” He grumbles and turns back to Stan, redder than he has ever seen him. Before he can react, he slams his door closed and locks it.
Stan is surprised that he isn’t running after Ike at all but he can’t connect any words to his mouth when Kyle heads back to him. He isn’t shy but there is something demure in his determination.
“Kyle?” His mouth is too dry for anything else to be voiced.
There is a rush of hope as he watches him settle one of his knees next to Stan’s and looms closer and closer until their noses are brushing. Stan is going to throw up.
“I’m in love with you too, Stan.”