Chapter Text
No one likes growing up, and that’s a fact.
You’re changing and you can’t help it. Life is hurtling toward you at super sonic speeds, and people twice your age are criticizing you, saying to play your teenage years carefully because it’ll affect you for the rest of your life. It’s like one wrong move and- bam- your future is ruined. No more college, no more job.
Kyle’s mom spent a lot of his childhood telling him that the worst part about growing up was high school, that he’d struggle but he had to keep his grades up and get on the honor roll. That he had to go to college, and when he asked why, the only answer he got was ‘because that’s how it works’. He wasn’t so sure about that, but, well… his mom wouldn’t lie, and she knows more than him.
He totally did struggle with highschool, even in his freshman year- the teachers were stricter, and the work was more difficult. You had more freedom, but you also had to make choices to succeed without being guided to it. He found himself lost more than once, torn between living his teenage life to the fullest or living for himself in five years.
There’s one thing that made it harder, though, because for all Kyle tries, he isn’t interested in girls.
For most of his childhood, he liked girls because that’s what everyone else did. But the fact of the matter is this: he doesn’t like girls. He can talk to them just fine, isn’t nervous, and doesn’t fumble when a pretty girl makes eye contact with him. Kyle feels completely, totally fine around girls, and that’s the issue. He and Wendy went their separate ways during middle school, and he’d still never forget how their last conversation was of her accusing him of ‘not even liking girls’ and ‘taking advantage of her’. It wasn’t like he had gotten with her just as a cover or something, he just hadn’t known.
Then he’d thought about it, and seriously thought about it- spent long nights staring up at the popcorn ceiling of his room- and he’d realized something that he desperately wanted to un-realize. That he wasn’t interested in girls, and it wasn’t because he was too young or too naive or too unaware of himself, it was because the only thing that had ever sparked his interest was boys. That he’d find his eyes drifting to the near-naked underwear models when he did the embarrassing task of buying boxers, but they never even turned toward the bra or pantie section.
It’d really, really hit him hard in eighth grade, when he grabbed a porn mag and tried- well, y’know. And it didn’t work. None of the pages with the girls made him feel anything, but when he got to the pages with both guys and girls, it was like a switch was flicked on.
And, fuck, because he doesn’t want to be gay. He isn’t gay. Broflovski’s aren’t gay, and as much as his dad can say that he’s okay with gay people, Kyle knows that’s for others. Not him. If he even hinted at being gay he knows they’d do something bad, like send him to conversion therapy, or force him to get girlfriends and prove himself. He can’t be gay. Even if it’s okay to be gay, it’s just not for him.
It got worse, ironically, when he actually found interest in someone- because not only was this someone a guy, but his best fucking friend, and that’s an even bigger ‘no’ than being gay in the first place. Yeah, sure, he’s not normal, but why can’t he have the decency to at least like someone he doesn’t know? Kyle tried to put it out of his brain, to ignore it, shove it into the deepest recesses of his mind, but he couldn’t. It was nagging and the object of his near infatuation was always right in reach, right in front of him.
Another thing his mom had warned him of was that in middle school, friendships end. And Kyle really didn’t think that was true for him and his friends, because they’d been inseparable since almost elementary school.
Then it happened, fast and hard, dropping on his head like a ton of bricks. Their friend group split, partway due to Kyle, though the rest weren’t innocent either. He’d lost his temper after one of Cartman’s Jew jokes, pent up from dealing with changing in ways he hated, got into an actual physical fight with the guy- which ended up with a tie, as Kyle was weak and Cartman was slow- that ended their years-long friendship. Kyle was fine with losing Cartman and knew he’d get over it, but when he watched Stan slowly walk over to Cartman’s side after they’d officially settled on the breakup, he felt his heart shatter. He’d never felt heartbreak, but if he ever had, it would’ve been that moment. A sickening gut feeling, and even though his face was bruised and nose pounding, that made him feel horrible. Watching Stan’s eyes divert from his, arms around himself protectively, head down. He didn’t even know why Stan chose Cartman over him, Stan’s best friend, who Stan spent all of his time with- but something told him it was due to his differences. Stan for sure doesn’t know, but somehow, he can feel that Kyle is different. Maybe he saw that Kyle is never interested in girls, but Kyle’s eyes do roam across Stan’s face and chest, or maybe he just knows something is off. If Kyle is lucky- which he isn’t- then maybe Cartman had dirt on Stan, and that’s why.
But, baseline is, being different is never good, and Kyle had to learn that the hard way. He has nothing against gay people. But he doesn’t want to be one.
–
It was hot. South Park didn’t get hot ever, if you exclude that one time they nearly caused all of the global warming, but on very small occasions, the end of the summer became scorching.
Kyle walked down the sidewalk, a thin plastic grocery bag in hand, sweat dripping down his back. He rarely wore t-shirts outside, but he couldn’t stand the heat with a jacket on. It was so hot that the sidewalk in front of him was wavering, water evaporating from the concrete. He felt a little dizzy, frizzy hair sticking to his forehead with uncomfortable itchiness.
A feeling of anxiety buzzed deep in his stomach and he stiffened because even after almost two years, he knew what would meet his eyes if he turned even a little to the right. He gripped the grocery bag tighter, held his shoulders higher, begged himself not to look.
Movement caught his eye and out of instinct he glanced, and his heart skipped a beat, and fuck, why is he like this?
Raven-black hair that was bleached blonde at the tips shined in the heat of the sun, pushed back to avoid the heat. Lengthy but strong arms scrubbed at the metal of the front of a truck, water and foamy bubbles covering a pair of hands. The muscles of his arms moved in almost mesmerizing ways as he worked, mouth parted slightly, face a soft red on the cheeks. A tank top that was probably two sizes too big and stained with dirt lay upon his chest, barely covering up a skinny, lean stomach. He was just in shorts and sandals, lengthening legs touching the ground. He moved ungracefully, but Kyle found his eyes glued, couldn’t take them off, felt his breath stutter and mind start to move a million miles a minute. The moment he felt his self-control start to slip- at least puberty gave him knowledge of his emotions- he tore his gaze away, maybe feeling a little of his heart tear simultaneously.
Sometime in freshman year, he’d convinced himself he wasn’t gay and it was a phase after successfully getting off to women. Then shit like this has to happen- the tight leash he has on his mind coming undone- and it ruins all the goddamn work he had done to avoid this exact situation. Kyle sped up his walking, feeling his breath puff out faster, face turning a hot red, stomach churning. He wanted to throw up, could feel bile rising up his throat at the thoughts he should never have.
The deep green house faded into the distance as he damn near ran, leaving the average Suburbia of South Park to go to his destination, Dark Meadows. He tried to put what he saw out of his mind but he couldn’t, it only made it worse, made him dwell more on what he saw, focus more on the sweat that had soaked Stan’s tank top, the red on his cheeks-
It’d been almost two years, but he still had a fucking crush on Stan, even though they’d spoken maybe two words to each other last year, both pulled on separate sides of the school. Stan had taken his choice. He’d gone with Cartman. Kyle didn’t need Stan, he had his own friends.
But, fuck, he did. Needed Stan like he needed goddamn water, because Stan had always been one of the things that made him happy.
At first, Tolkien’s house had been overwhelming and confusing to Kyle, but now that he spent most of his time there, he’d gotten a hang of it. He sure hadn’t seen half of the house, but the rooms he had been in, he was more than familiar with. Kyle practically lived there- half of the time eating dinner there, sleeping over. Sure, maybe he was taking advantage of the fact that Tolkien was filthy rich, but he did really enjoy the guy’s company.
Kyle dropped the grocery bag the second he got into Tolkien’s game room, bottles sloshing as they hit the table right next to the door, threatening to roll off. Tolkien barely glanced over at him, invested in some sort of first-person MMO that he’d tried to get Kyle into to no avail. The huge TV he was playing on let out fast-paced shooting and voiced yelling, Tolkien’s character swinging around skillfully using crystal-clear graphics. The main couch in the room had it’s back facing the entrance, but Kyle didn’t bother turning all the way to face Tolkien. If he didn’t say it now, he’d pussy out, and he’s got to say it to someone before he explodes and screams it to the world.
“I’m gay.”
The words felt bad coming out of his wrong, but the right kind of bad, because the anxiety and fear broiling in his stomach calmed just a little. He knew Tolkien wasn’t homophobic for a fact, because they’d talked about it once a couple of months ago, and he was as supportive as everyone else was. Tolkien wasn’t his best friend, but Kyle would’ve never told Stan, mostly because Stan was the object of his attraction.
Tolkien’s shoulder jerked as he shot and killed an enemy, but he didn’t turn around, letting Kyle only see the back of his perfectly cut hair. Then he paused the game, a screen with thick letters popping up, and slowly turned around in the couch to face Kyle. He threw his arm over the back of it, a neutral look on his face, and didn’t speak for a couple of seconds. Kyle’s heart sped up a bit, and he ran his hand through his permanently messy hair, sweat now drying in the cold halls of Tolkien’s mansion. “Of course you are, dude, it’s obvious,” he spoke in a dryly sarcastic tone, purple t-shirt shifting with the movements.
Kyle’s face flamed red. “What the hell do you mean?! No it isn’t!”
“Yeah, it is.”
He crossed his arms in agitation. Kyle had- Kyle had spent all his time trying to avoid coming off as gay. He doesn’t act gay, he doesn’t talk gay. “What about me is gay?”
“You don’t like girls, like, ever. All your friends are guys. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about porn once, and, man- you’re like, obsessed with Stan.”
Kyle blinked. Once, twice. His hands fell to his side and he knew Tolkien saw the color drain from his face. “I’m, uh, I’m not, right?” he asked, but all the fight had fallen from his voice and was replaced with a hesitant, scared tone of the little boy he still was on occasion.
“He’s all you talk about. When we see him in the halls, it’s all, ‘oh, there goes Stan, world-class asshole’. Remember that time you got stoned and went on a rant about how mad it made you that Stan left you for Cartman, and you were saying all that shit about how you’re better than him, you’re nicer, that you did everything for Stan? Or that time you said you didn’t get why everyone was drooling over Bebe, even though she has huge tits that practically look at you first? Or that time-”
“Fuck, okay, I get it! Shit, Tolkien!” Kyle groaned and covered his face with his hands, digging his fingers into his hair and tugging on it. “I get it, I’m fucking queer, you don’t gotta spell it out in big fucking neon letters-” he let out a deep breath, trying desperately not to start hyperventilating because he’d really tried to not think that far into it. Yeah, he knew he liked Stan, he’d accepted that back in middle school, but he didn’t know he was fucking obsessed with the guy! Did he really talk about Stan that much?
Then he thought back, and, yeah, he did. But that’s because the guy was always on his fucking mind, him and his lame-ass bleached tips, the pissed look he always had on his face.
He needed to smoke or to drink, or something, because sitting with this shit weighing heavily in his mind was fucking with him. He still couldn’t get Stan’s appearance out of his mind and it was driving him fucking insane.
Tolkien shrugged. “I’m telling you the truth. Don’t get mad at me, man,” he started to turn back around, as if Kyle’s life wasn’t falling apart at the seams (and that’s part of what Kyle likes about Tolkien, because somehow, him being so nonchalant made it easier to speak about shit like this), before turning back quickly. “And I’m fine with gay people. For the record. I won’t tell anyone, but don’t get mad at me if they already know.”
Kyle huffed, turning and grabbing the bag he’d left on the table and coming to sit on the couch. Tolkien started up the game again, but Kyle stared with empty eyes at the screen.