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“Hey guys, thanks for coming along with me.” Stan adjusted the strap of the guitar on his shoulder. He could feel the sweat on his palms and he hoped that it didn’t soak through the crumpled paper in his hand. Now that he was here standing in front of the door, Stan had second thoughts about it all. There was a very high chance of it going badly and the very thought of it made him nauseous.
A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts. “No worries, man. Anything for you to stop moping about. It was getting annoying,” Kenny said.
“Yeah. We can’t beat the Dream Team if there’s no Dream Team to beat. A shame that Craig refused to join us. Anyway, everybody ready?” Clyde asked, patting his bag.
A chorus of agreement rang out between them. Stan sucked in a breath. It was time. As Clyde handed out the items in his bag, Stan looked down at his notes once more before shoving them into his back pocket. He steeled himself before pushing the doorbell, the sound ringing faintly within the apartment. There was a moment of silence, then Stan wondered if he should ring it again. Before he could press the doorbell again, the door opened slightly, causing the light inside the apartment to illuminate the dark hallway they were in.
Kyle had a tired look on his face when he appeared in the doorway. “Go home, Stan. We have nothing to talk about,” he said wearily. He grew confused at the sight of the two people standing behind him, eyes narrowed. “Why are you wearing fake moustaches and holding instruments from the dollar store? You know what, it doesn’t matter. Go home.” He slammed the door shut in their faces.
Now they were back in darkness, Stan felt his stomach sink. That went as well as he had predicted. With disappointment, Clyde lowered the triangle that he was holding. “So, we’re not doing it?”
“No, we’re not. I already knew it was going to be like that,” Stan said with a sigh, pulling the guitar off his shoulder. “I’m just going to go home.”
"Wrong answer.” Kenny pocketed the kazoo he was holding. “Look, just ask Kyle for five minutes of his time. Grab the door if you have to. You’ve spent the last week or so trying to write this apology for him. Do you want him to stay mad at you forever?”
“No.”
“There’s your answer. You’ve got to keep trying.” Kenny went up to the doorbell and Stan immediately grabbed Kenny’s arm to stop him.
“What are you doing?” he hissed. “I’m not mentally prepared yet.”
Kenny gave him a look. “The faster you get this over with, the faster I can go home,” he said, pushing the doorbell.
“No, I’m not ready yet!” The sound of it made Stan’s eyes dart to the door in slight panic, waiting for the door to open again. After a few moments, Stan realised that it wasn’t going to open and felt his heart sink. “He doesn’t want to see me,” Stan said, eyes downcast. “If that’s what he wants, then…”
Clyde snorted. “If it doesn’t work once, try again. Here’s a secret method I have for getting Craig to open his door for me.” He slammed his finger repeatedly on the doorbell, the sound of the doorbell echoing inside. “If he doesn’t get annoyed, then there’s —”
The door was thrown open, slamming onto the side. It swung so close to his face, barely missing his nose. “What the hell do you want?” Kyle exclaimed, face scrunched up in anger. “You’re going to piss off all my neighbours!”
Stan held up both hands in front of him in surrender. He could see Clyde giving him a thumbs up from the corner of his eye. “I know you don’t want to see me again, but can you at least give me five minutes of your time?” Stan asked. “I won’t ask for more.”
He half-expected Kyle to slam the door in his face again from the way he was glaring back at him, but then Kyle only sighed, closing his eyes. “Only Stan, the rest of you can leave,” Kyle clarified. That sparked some sort of hope in Stan. Does that mean that Kyle wanted to hear him out?
Stan followed Kyle into his apartment, closing the door behind him. Kyle was waiting for him in the living room, seated on the sofa, arms crossed. He gestured to the armchair next to him. Stan sat down, shifting his guitar onto his lap. There it was again, the butterflies in his stomach. Now that they were seated face-to-face, he didn’t know what to say. Kyle looked as if he had something to say to him, but Stan felt like he should be the one to go first. He sucked in a breath, attempting to stall for time to order his thoughts.
“Kyle, about the thing that happened, I’m really sorry about it,” Stan began.
“Yeah, I got the message the first time.” Kyle sighed. “Look, I know you said to forget it and all, so I’ve been doing my best to do that. In the meantime, I really don’t need you to come back and shove it in my face again, not when we’re so busy now. I don’t need you reminding me that you don’t feel the same way.”
“No, that’s not… I meant to say that…” Stan shifted in his seat, feeling paper crinkling in his back pocket. He sat up straighter, feeling that he could express everything with a better way. After all, he had spent a week writing it. Stan pulled his guitar up, strumming out the first few chords of his song. He was nervous all right; his hands were shaking, but he tried to do like he practised. Kyle watched him with increasing confusion, eyes darting to the guitar then back up at him. Stan cleared his throat before he launched into the song.
“
All it took was one drink for me
or maybe, it was more than three
to throw our friendship out of the metaphorical window
I’m sorry that I’m such a disaster bisexual
Kyle, I’m so sorry that I’m such a fucking jerk
it took me longer than one day
for me to realise how gay I am for you
how can we make this work?
Why am I like this? Even I don’t know
Maybe I thought being gay was metrosexual
But we know that it was such a bullshit fad
I think I just was a heteronormative fag
Kyle, I’m so sorry that I’m such a fucking jerk
it took me longer than one day
for me to realise how gay I am for you
how can we make this work?
We were so close, we were super best friends
Liking a dude like you won’t make me less of a man
Can’t we just go back to being Kyle and Stan
But maybe more than friends ‘cause I
don’t want this thing between us to ever end
Kyle, I’m so sorry that I’m such a fucking jerk
it took me longer than one day
to come to terms and accept my queer identity
Kyle Broflovski, I realise I love you that way
I think I am a little gay”
As he strummed out the ending chord, he looked up at Kyle hopefully. The redhead hadn’t spoken a word since he started singing and then he realised why: Kyle had left some time ago during his performance. Judging from the sounds and light coming from the kitchen, that was where he went to. Abandoning his guitar on the armchair, he got up to look for Kyle.
Peering into the kitchen, he found Kyle drinking from a cup, back turned to the door. “Kyle?” he called out tentatively. He watched as Kyle froze, although he refused to turn around to look at him. Clenching his fist, he said, “I’m sorry for saying that it was nothing. That night made me realise that I had feelings for you all along, but I was just too oblivious to see it. I thought we could have gone back to normal, but I now know that what I felt, no, feel for you wasn’t just friendship, but something more. The time that you avoided me made me feel like crap, and I don’t want to feel it again.” He shifted in his spot nervously when Kyle didn’t budge one bit. “Would you consider being mine again?”
He was startled when Kyle slammed his cup down onto the countertop and turned around sharply, marching towards him. “You’re such a stupid idiot,” Kyle muttered under his breath, grabbing the front of Stan’s shirt and yanked him close, crushing their lips together.
Honestly, Stan had missed the warmth of being so close to Kyle, returning the kiss with fervour. He felt his back hitting against the wall, but it didn’t matter to him in this moment. All he could think of was Kyle in his arms, Kyle holding him close, Kyle kissing him. Stan buried his hand into Kyle’s red curls; so soft, just like his lips on his own. Pulling back to catch his breath, he leaned his forehead against Kyle’s own, feeling the soft breaths between them.
Kyle still had a tight grip on his shirt, as if he was scared that Stan would leave if he let go. His breath was shaky and Stan knew that it wasn’t from the kiss. He could see the tear tracks on Kyle’s face, wiping them away with his thumb. This time, he pulled Kyle close into a hug, feeling the shivers from Kyle as he buried his face into Stan’s shoulder. “You stupid idiot, I’ve never stopped liking you.” Kyle’s voice was muffled. It hurt his heart to see Kyle so distraught, especially with the stress from work and all. Then, he realised that he probably had contributed to it and gripped Kyle tighter.
“I’m really sorry for not thinking about your feelings back then. I should have known it wouldn’t be all fine after we ended in bed together when I was drunk, and then I just told you that it meant nothing. It must have hurt.”
Kyle pulled back from him, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “I guess you’re not entirely at fault.” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t have overreacted that night, since I was still sober. It was just all the stress piling up, and then I just saw red when you told me that. I just avoided you so that I could avoid dealing with this problem. ”
“Are you feeling better now?” Stan asked softly, taking Kyle’s hands in his. His fingers were icy cold, so he clasped his hands around them to warm them up. Kyle didn’t pull away, so he took that as a good sign.
“Yeah.” Kyle opened his eyes, looking at Stan. “Thank you.”
Stan smiled at the warmth in his green eyes. “I love you, Kyle.”
Kyle returned the smile, the first one that Stan had seen in days. “I love you too, Stan.”
“Does this mean we’re dating now?” Stan asked, hopeful. “Because I know where we can go get some dinner.”
“That sounds nice,” Kyle said with a small smile. “Let’s go on that date.”