Archive of Our Own

It’s just after 8 pm on a Sunday and Kyle is eating alone at Benny’s, having decided that is the best place to have a crisis. It’s fairly empty aside from a sleepy looking middle-aged couple, another lone patron, and the goth kids.

The goth kids are not so much kids anymore, all of them aside from Firkle being in their 20s now. It’s remarkable their group has remained intact all these years.  Anyone who has attempted to slip into their clique eventually leaves, always realizing it is not for them. Even today the goths are intense people, so it isn’t surprising. As resilient kids they were of course intense - Stan’s stories of his brief time being part of their crew never failing to boggle Kyle’s mind - but they remain true to their intense core.

Kyle would know since one of his best friends, Bebe, is dating Henrietta. Bebe is not part of her group - her not close to resembling a goth - but dating Henrietta comes with some obligatory hangouts with her friends. Bebe complains that she’s as inseparable from her friends as Kyle is from Stan, no one in her life being attached at the hip to her, which he always scoffs at. He is extremely independent from Stan, he always whines back at her. And he has seen Henrietta without her friend group at least a few times throughout his life.

He gnaws on some fries, deep in thought about the few occasions he has seen any of the goths away from one another, when someone slides into the seat across from him. He looks up and is face to face with Henrietta. They stare at one another for what feels like forever before one of them speaks.

“Hey,” she nonchalantly speaks, taking a sip from a mug she brought over from her table.

“Hello?” he responds after gaping at her for a moment. This is weird; they never speak to one another. It’s even weirder that she came over as he was thinking about her.

“What are you moping about?” Henrietta asks.

“I’m literally just sitting here eating?”

“Please,” she scoffs. “You’ve been brooding here for an hour. Not to mention you’re eating, like, the unhealthiest stuff on the menu.”

He surveys his plate of french fries, a milkshake, a slice of apple pie, and a stack of pancakes.  It’s not the most conventional meal, but it’s technically still an entrée, side, dessert, and drink.

“Did Bebe set you up to this?” he asks. He can’t remember the last time they had a one-on-one conversation. Maybe sophomore year of high school.

“Oh my God,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “It’s called being nice. I’m being nice, Kyle.” 

He narrows his eyes. He wants to try to get along with her, but he wants it to happen organically. He doesn’t want to feel like some kid’s mom at the playground chided them into being nice to him. Bebe has talked about how she wishes he and Henrietta would give one another a chance, so it’s hard not to assume Henrietta is doing this to please her rather than out of pure desire. Still, he figures he should give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Sorry. I am feeling off tonight, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s fine. I mean, this is partially because of Bebe. I figure since you’re her best friend we should get to know one another a little better or whatever. But I also care about others, you know. I wasn’t going to let you sadly sit all alone in here while eating soggy french fries and a watery milkshake.”

“No, no. You’re right,” Kyle smiles. He appreciates her honesty, not that he’d expect anything else from one of the goths. Sometimes being blunt is good. “I think if Bebe likes you so much, you and I could get along well.”

“Good,” she says, giving him what is probably the closest thing to a smile he has seen her express. “So, what’s wrong?”

He weighs the pros and cons of telling her that he’s drowning the sorrow of his years long love for Stan in junk food, but he might just be feeling vulnerable enough that it doesn’t matter. He considers that she probably already knows, anyway, with Bebe not caring what secrets she tells the people closest to her. He definitely knows plenty of things about others that he shouldn’t know thanks to her.

“It’s about Stan,” he starts, pausing to see if that garners a reaction. It does, he thinks, her mouth forming into a slight smirk. It’s hard to tell with her. He tries to figure out how to even begin to word it. It’s not often he confesses his years long unrequited love to people. In fact, the only people he has told are Bebe and Ike.

“You’re angsting about how to ask him out or something?” Henrietta asks, too smug for his liking.

“How do you know I like him?” he pouts even though he knows how.

“I mean, Bebe told me,” she shrugs, and he rolls his eyes. Not at her, but about Bebe. He’s not mad about it, but it is slightly terrifying when the circle of people who knows his secret grows bigger. “I’m not here to judge.”

“Okay,” he says, bracing himself. “I just am at my wits’ end, I don’t know! I feel like I’m going to lose my mind if things continue as they are. Not that I’d not want to be his friend if he doesn’t like me back, but sometimes I do feel like he might like me back! So, I want answers, but I don’t know how to get them. Also, what if he doesn’t like me, finds out I like him, and then starts to act weird because of it? I trust him not to be too weird about it, but I think it would make things weird in minor ways that would add up. Not to mention it’s one thing thinking he doesn’t like me back, but having the confirmation? That’ll be totally different. Horrible. I have no idea what to do,” Kyle rambles, embarrassed when he has to catch his breath when he’s done speaking.

Kyle watches as Henrietta moves her finger around the rim of her mug. The polish on her short black nails is chipped. He can’t recall a time her nail polish hasn’t been.

“Have you tried telling him about your feelings? Or, like, asking him on a date?” she asks, looking up from her drink and making unblinking eye contact with him.

“I can’t just ask him out!” he whispers harshly. “Did you not hear me say all the things that could go wrong? I need to gauge how he feels, but I have no clue how.”

“Oh my god,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “What, have you seriously just been sitting here hoping he’ll ask you out for years? Or that you’ll have an epiphany and suddenly understand his feelings? And this is the plan you’re sticking with?”

“It hasn’t been years!” he begins to defend himself, but falters when he actually thinks about it. He started to come to terms with his feelings for Stan when he was around fifteen, so about six years ago.

“That’s what I thought,” she says, obnoxiously smirking at him. “Well, I may be able to assist.”

“How?” he asks, nearly jumping out of his seat. He doesn’t believe the goth kids are actually capable of doing any sort of magic like rumors have claimed, but they do elude him. Something seems off about them, but it’s probably just their attitude and aesthetics throwing things off.

“I have my ways. Just follow my instructions.”

He squints at her and idly stirs his milkshake, repeatedly sliding the straw down to try and poke the cherry that has sunk to the bottom.

“Okay,” he agrees. He’s desperate, and she has a girlfriend, so she must be doing something right. 

“So,” she begins, stealing a fry from Kyle’s plate. “Butters and Kenny are having a killer New Year’s party, right?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s it. Go to the party.”

“What? I was already planning on going. How is that going to help anything?” Kyle asks. He feels frustrated and unguarded. It doesn’t help that Henrietta perpetually looks annoyed.

“Trust me. Let me come over and help you get ready for it,” she says.

“Fine,” he concedes. She must have something up her sleeve. He can probably get answers about her plans out of Bebe, anyway.

“Okay. See you then,” Henrietta says, stealing one last fry as she slides out of the booth and heads back to her table. He watches her saunter away and scrunches his nose when the rest of the goths give him a look once she returns. He quickly pays and heads home, it being too weird to brood in there anymore.

Kyle spends the days leading up to the New Year’s party begging Bebe for details on what Henrietta is planning. Obnoxiously, she continues to claim she has no idea what Henrietta could be doing, but he knows that’s a lie. He tries to use the guilt of Bebe telling Henrietta about his crush as leverage (though he does not actually care much) but she still refuses to budge.

The night of the party, Kyle hasn’t spoken to Henrietta since their hangout at the diner. He doesn’t think his sense of style is that bad, and Bebe has confirmed this, so he is not entirely sure why Henrietta thinks she needs to help him get ready. Still, he waits to prep until she arrives. She must have some sort of plan.

She arrives at his apartment at 5 pm on the dot. Stan plans to pick him up at 6. Hopefully she leaves before he arrives. It’s nothing personal - it would just be hard to explain to Stan.

“Hey,” she greets him when he opens his door. She looks the same as usual, but she has a large purse in hand, a change from the usual small shoulder bag she carries with her. He awkwardly lets her into his apartment and shows her around. Not that there’s much to show. It’s an 800 square foot apartment that has a bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, and living room squeezed into it. He’s just lucky he managed to find a place as cheap as his is.

The tour is uncomfortable, Henrietta seeming unamused. She doesn’t speak beyond a few grunts and seemingly forced sounds of awe.

“What are you planning on wearing to the party?” Henrietta cuts to the chase once they reach their final place of the tour: his closet.

“Oh, here,” he says, pulling out his nicest suit – a dark grey piece - along with a white button down and forest green tie. Butters and Kenny live in a big house in Denver, living off of Butters’ ample revenue from his popular soap making YouTube channel and business. They love to hold parties, so ever since they bought the house a couple years ago, they have held countless events. Mostly ridiculously formal parties. They now hold an annual New Year’s Eve party where they invite everyone they know, requesting guests dress in formal wear.

“Woah,” she says, sliding her hand up and down the suit jacket. “For a New Year’s party?”

“Yeah, nice parties are Kenny and Butters’ thing now. I dunno, they both have a flair for the dramatics.”

“You think they’re trying to compensate for Kenny growing up so poor and Butters growing up so restricted?” Henrietta asks. Kyle is taken aback at the bluntness, but she’s not wrong.

“Uh, probably. I guess, yeah, now that they have the money and freedom to do what they want, they’re not holding back. Compensating for lost time.”

“Cool,” Henrietta says with a nod. “They don’t still keep in touch with their families, do they?”

“Not Butters, no. Though I think that’s mostly due to Kenny pushing hard against him contacting them. Kenny does still keep in touch with his folks.”

“Really? He pushed for Butters to leave his parents but still talks to his own?”

Kyle is mildly uncomfortable at her judgement of them, but he tries to remind himself she probably is coming more rudely than she means. Bebe has tried to convince him of that, at least.

“Kenny’s parents weren’t ever as bad as Butters’. Besides, they were mostly just abusive to one another. I think they’ve improved now that Kenny has been able to give them some financial stability. Gives them less to stress about.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” she says. “Alright, go put your suit on. We’ll workshop from there.”

“Okay,” he replies, worrying over what she wants to workshop. Maybe she wants to put some makeup on him; some concealer to hide his dark undereye, or mascara to make his eyes pop. He hopes she doesn’t want to cover his freckles.

He doesn’t have many pieces of formal wear, but this suit is his best. He likes the deep grey color because it pairs well with his favorite dark green tie. He assesses himself in the mirror once he’s dressed and droops at the sight. He looks washed out and unremarkable, and his hair isn’t exactly cooperating with him today. He really does need her help.

“Wow, that suit is really fitting for you. Nice pick,” she remarks when he exits the bathroom. It’s probably the first time she’s said something approving to him.

“Really?”

“Yeah, the green is really nice on you.”

Henrietta helps him make sure everything is in order. No, you do not need to get Kenny and Butters a present. This isn’t a birthday party. She soothes his anxieties. No, why would you need to get Stan a gift? You’re not, like, his prom date who needs to gift him a corsage. You guys aren’t technically going on a date, anyway. She takes his worried rambling in stride.

Henrietta rolls her eyes and makes Kyle iron his undershirt when he won’t stop questioning if Stan will notice a crease on its side. The crease would be covered by his suit jacket, but he insists he might get hot and take it off at some point. She helps him make sure everything on his suit is evened out, tightens his tie, and gives his shoes an extra shine. She does put some makeup on him: a few strokes of gel on his eyebrows to help fill them out and brown mascara, which she swears will not smudge no matter what, to make his eyes pop.

“I’m having a terrible hair day,” he whines, now hoping she has a way to fix everything. Her advice has been weirdly good for an apathetic goth kid.

“Oh, come on,” Henrietta exclaims, digging her fingers into his curls. “It’s fine.”

“I don’t know. It looks off. There should be more symmetry, right?”

“Kyle. Please,” she deadpans, pulling her fingers away. Okay, maybe he’s pushing it a bit too much. Everything about him can’t realistically be wrong, but he needs everything to be perfect for this night which will supposedly be pivotal.

“Trust me, no one can tell you’re having a bad hair day except you. You are your greatest critic,” she continues, turning away to dig in her bag.

She sounds a lot like Bebe saying that. ‘You are your greatest critic’ is something Bebe says a lot. It’s sweet seeing how they rub off on one another, and Kyle wonders how many phrases and habits he and Stan have taken from one another.

She spritzes him with perfume that smells herby. It is, apparently - a rosemary, lavender, and sandalwood mixture. She uses a rollerball on the inside of his wrists, behind his ears, and on his throat. The scent will waft most strongly from these points, she claims. When he asks about the concoction, she says she didn’t make it for him, but it is homemade, and the ingredients have been thoughtfully paired together. He entertains the thought that the perfume could be part of why she is so sure something will happen with he and Stan tonight. Maybe she cast a spell on the liquid. Most likely there are pheromones in it, or she just likes the scent, but it’s fun to think about.

Eventually, everything seems to be in line: his outfit is neat, he smells delightful (albeit very unlike himself), his breath is fresh, and Henrietta has at least attempted to give him words of encouragement about tonight. As she’s about to make her way out, making a last-ditch effort to reassure him that tonight will go fine as she packs up, there is a knock on his door. They share a wide-eyed look before Kyle moves to open it.

“Kyle!” Stan greets him. “Dude, you look great, Kenny and Butters are gonna be so impressed,” he says, giving Kyle a quick hug and making his way inside. “You ready to-oh? Hello?”

“Um, hey,” Henrietta says with a flip of her hair. Kyle looks between the two of them, dread pooling in his stomach.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” Stan sputters. “I got here early because I wanted to make sure you had everything in line. I know you can be kind of neurotic about being fully prepared for things, so I wanted to help make sure you were good before we left,” Stan says, his anxious rambling making Kyle anxious in turn.

“I just stopped by to ask for some advice about Bebe. I’m out,” Henrietta says, shoving the last of her items into her bag.

“Oh, okay. Bye Henrietta!” Stan says, his arms stiff at his side. He looks at Kyle, clearly searching for answers.

“Yeah, bye! And thanks - I mean. I hope I could help! Text me if there’s anything else you need,” Kyle pathetically lies. He grits his teeth. He can swear he sees Henrietta’s eye twitch.

“Yeah. Thanks,” she says as she slips out the door.

Kyle pretends to be occupied with straightening his shirt cuffs, bracing for Stan to pry into Henrietta being here. He wasn’t supposed to arrive for twenty more minutes. Hopefully this one run in with bad luck isn’t determinate of the rest of the night.

“You ready to go dude?” Stan asks after a few moments of awkward silence. Kyle can’t tell if Stan is giving him a weird look or if he’s just being paranoid.

“Yes! Yeah. I am,” Kyle says, looking up from his sleeves. He gives Stan a good look for the first time tonight and his mouth dries when he processes just how great he looks. His hair is freshly cut, and he is stunning in his black suit and blue tie. He thinks about how lucky Stan is that his eyelashes are so beautifully long and dark; he doesn’t need mascara. Between being mesmerized by how attractive Stan is and the residual shame of being caught with Henrietta, he doesn’t know how to function properly. Thankfully, Stan corrals them into his car, not wasting time in Kyle’s apartment despite it being too early for them to leave.

In Stan’s car, Kyle buckles in and sinks into the soft, worn passenger seat, trying to compose himself. On one hand, he’s fine, because he’s with Stan, his best friend of fifteen years. On the other hand, neither of them are speaking. They share plenty of comfortable silences, but it’s weird they’ve just met up and have nothing to say. He tries to focus on the coziness of the car and the picturesque mountains outside, but it doesn’t fully stave off his anxiety. After fifteen minutes of silent driving, Stan finally speaks.

“Why didn’t you tell me Henrietta was at your place?” he asks. It’s irritating even though Kyle understands why he’s suspicious.

“Dude, I don’t need to tell you when I’m hanging out with someone,” he replies, hoping this will end the conversation. He feels a little bad because it is weird they were hanging out, and if he were in Stan’s position he’d want a better answer, but he needs to tread carefully.

“Hmph. Yes, but,” Stan begins, sounding exasperated. “You tell me, like, everything, dude!”

“Stan, I promise it really was nothing exciting. I know it looks weird, but it’s not.”

“You’ve been incessantly complaining about how weird it is Bebe is dating Henrietta, though! You jump on any opportunity to talk about her! And now she visits you but you’re silent about it?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Kyle apologizes, though he knows an apology isn’t exactly warranted. It eases his guilt, though. “I usually would have texted you about it immediately! But, like you guessed earlier, I was frazzled getting ready for the party. Butters and Kenny put so much work into it, I really wanted to be ready. On top of all that, I had Henrietta to deal with.”

Kyle looks over, trying to gauge Stan’s reaction to his nervous rambling. Stan is biting his lip, a nervous habit he picked up in middle school. His bottom lip is chewed up more often than not. Kyle finds it endearing.

“Oh, okay,” Stan says, seeming to accept his excuses. “Is everything okay between Bebe and Henrietta? What did she even need?”

He cringes, not wanting to lie to Stan again. He hates lying to him, but it’s for the best. None of it is too far off from the truth, anyway.

“It wasn’t anything serious, thank god! She just wanted some gift advice for one of their monthly anniversaries. I think six months is coming up soon? I don’t really know why she showed up to my door for the advice though. Just how she is, I guess.”

He worries he’s rambling a suspicious amount, but Stan seems satisfied with his response.

The car ride is long, but the mood is light the rest of the drive there. The scenery outside is gorgeous, them passing by towering mountains and lush trees. They spend their time admiring the landscape, singing cheesy pop songs, and speculating about the party.

“Is Red coming? I know they forgot to invite her last year,” Stan asks, briefly glancing over at Kyle.

“Yeah dude, she’s gonna be Nichole’s plus one. Remember?”

“Oh yeah, they’ve been together for a few months now. Weird.”

“They’re one of the couples that’s gonna stay the night with us, actually.”

Butters and Kenny invited them to spend the night in their house since it’s a decent drive from South Park to Denver and they have several spare rooms. They offered the same to a few other couples since they are ever giving and love to host. Butters is in his element when he is making french toast at 8 in the morning, donning his frilly pink Hello Kitty apron and humming J-pop.

“Really? Wait, who else? Please don’t tell me Kevin will be there.”

“God, no. Not since Clyde ‘disrespected’ their ice pegasus last year. I think Butters took it really personally.”

“Oh my god,” Stan laughs, and Kyle joins him. “I still don’t believe he licked it on a dare. He so did it out of pure desire.”

“Totally,” Kyle snickers.

At last year’s New Year’s party, Clyde licked the ice sculpture and got his tongue stuck. Kevin Stoley had to rescue him by pouring water on his tongue until it came off, but not before Kenny saw and chewed him out. Half the guests were pulled in by the commotion, including Butters, who screamed at Clyde that he was never invited back to their home. Clyde didn’t fight back and walked out akin to a kicked puppy. Thankfully, the ice sculpture was mostly fine, only a small dent having melted into it.

The two are nearing Denver city limits and Kyle is feeling drunk off of Stan, every smirk Stan sends his way making his insides bubble up. He doesn’t know how he’ll survive the night with even more Stan and actual alcohol to intoxicate him.

“What are you wearing? It smells nice,” Stan comments, and Kyle freezes.

It’s not weird for Stan to compliment Kyle, but he rarely comments on how he smells, except for the times he’d tease him over being stinky after gym class or smelling like his mom’s perfume after too much motherly doting. And this is one of the things Henrietta specifically did for him.

“Just something new I saw at the store. Was running out of what I usually use and I wanted a change.”

“Good choice,” Stan says, looking straight ahead as he continues driving.

Kyle turns to look out the window with a grin on his face, feeling immensely validated. He wishes he had Henrietta’s number so he could text her about her perfume already helping him.

When they arrive, Butters excitedly lets them into the garage and guides them inside.

“Oh jeez, you fellas look great! It’s real flattering you two dressed up this nice for our party. Thanks, guys.”

“Butters, of course! It’s fun dressing up every once in a while.” Kyle replies.

“Yeah. We don’t want to be those apathetic douchebags who don’t even try to dress to a party’s theme. They’re the worst,” Stan says, narrowing his eyes at Kyle’s glare. Just last night Stan had been complaining that haven’t they had enough formal new year’s parties by now? And I just want to dress in comfortable clothes while I drink to forget about how little I accomplished this year!

“Gosh, we love you guys so much. I’m so glad you’re staying the night again this year! It’s gonna be so fun. Let me show you what we have set up this year; I really think it beats all the others”

Butters bounces around all the rooms of what is essentially he and Kenny’s mansion, showing them the new additions to this year’s party. It, as always, looks gorgeous with the white and gold theme they’ve gone for. Lights adorn every surface, enhancing the magical feeling their stunning architecture already creates. Flowers sit everywhere and gentle music plays from a speaker in every room, a different playlist for each area. Butters is so proud of every little detail of the party, as he should be. It is unreal how everything has come together to make their home feel like an ethereal world.

The kitchen is full of food that probably looks better than it tastes, which isn’t an insult to the taste since the food looks straight out of a cooking magazine. This year’s ice sculpture is a three-foot-tall Hello Kitty dressed in a gown with a tiara on her head. It’s elegant yet cutesy, fitting the weird hybrid aesthetic Kenny and Butters have managed to find themselves falling into over the years.

The guests start filing in soon after they arrive and they spend the first hour of the party letting Butters and Kenny introduce them to various friends of theirs, a lot of them being people they have met before, but only ever see once a year at this very party. It’s mildly intimidating because a lot of the people they are being introduced to have some degree of fame like Butters, but Kenny and Butters attract only the kindest people. Despite Kyle’s anxiety over what the night might have in store for him - as well as his proximity to Stan, him often putting his hand on the small of Kyle’s back when they meet a new person - it’s easy making small talk with everyone. They move through each person like they’re pros at conversation and not just the kids who grew up in a small town, speaking to the same people for most of their lives and resorting to foul words for much of their conversation.

Once the flow of new people slows down, Kyle drags Stan over to the open bar, exhausted and ready for a drink. Kenny tails them, insisting they let him make them a drink. He’s been getting into mixing drinks the past couple of years and loves to use the two of them for experiments. Since Butters tends to only like sickeningly sweet concoctions, he insists the two of them are better to test on.

“Alright, for you Kyle I’m thinking… an envy cocktail,” Kenny says, telling them all about the new gadgets he has gotten for making drinks as he mixes up their drinks.

Kyle raises an eyebrow at Kenny when he presents him with a concerningly neon drink.

“And for Stan, a nice Old Fashioned.”

Stan and Kyle clink their drinks together before they take a sip. They share an impressed look before sending their praises to Kenny.

“Holy shit dude, this is incredible!” Kyle exclaims, greedily drinking his blue cocktail. He hates being so easy to read, but Kenny perfectly nailed his tastes. Of course, it helps that Kenny has known him since he was in diapers, but he wouldn’t change a single thing about the drink.

“Seriously, this is awesome. You’ve really tapped into something here,” Stan tacks onto Kyle’s praises. Kenny beams at them and slips out from behind the bar to stand between the boys and put his arms around both of them.

“Man am I glad you guys are here!”

“I wouldn’t miss your parties for the world,” Stan says, smiling.

“Yeah, this is a nice change of pace from the ragers Clyde threw in high school with his shitty Bluetooth speakers and cheap vodka,” Kyle says, shuddering. Clyde’s Bluetooth would constantly disconnect, and the sound quality made the songs barely discernible.  

“Man, no amount of sugar or syrup could hide the taste of that vodka. Yuck,” Kenny says, moving to rummage through some bottles behind the bar. “Butters and I bought a bottle of that shit recently because we saw it in a big display at the store and couldn’t resist. You guys wanna shot of it? For old times’ sake?” Kenny asks, bringing the bottle out and grinning.

Kyle groans, thinking about how the last time he tried to take a shot – a meager half shot of spiced rum – he spat it out onto Bebe’s carpet, barely missing her lap. He’s a wimp when it comes to liquor and still hasn’t quite mastered doing shots.

“Are you kidding? Hand it over!” Stan says, Kenny already pouring vodka into shot glasses. He looks over at Kyle. “How about it?”

“No, no way I’d be able to stomach that. Like Kenny said, I remember pouring a whole soda over a shot of that and still gagging from a sip.”

“Come on, you can stomach one shot. We can all do it together, It’ll be fun,” Stan ruffles Kyle’s curls, and he’s suddenly unsure he can say no to Stan over anything ever again.

“Okay, but if I throw up, I’m going to do it on you,” Kyle teases. Stan’s laugh makes his insides flutter.

“Hell yeah! Let me just go grab Butters real fast, he’ll love this. Plus, he’s almost as bad at taking shots as you are, Kyle,” Kenny says, rushing off before he can see Kyle’s eyeroll.

He returns a moment later, Butters and a woman Kyle has not yet met in tow.  

“Hey fellas!” Butters greets them. “This here is Araceli!”

“Dude,” Kenny excitedly cuts in before she can introduce herself, “She takes liquor like a champ. I’ve seen her drink Everclear straight from the bottle without even flinching.”

“Ha, quit flattering me,” She swats at Kenny’s shoulder, laughing. “I do love a good challenging drink. Kenny talked this vodka up big,” she says to Stan and Kyle.

“I think it really lives up to the hype. I mean, it’s not really Everclear bad, but it’s still real rough. I’m Stan, by the way,” Stan says with a wave, then puts his hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “And this is Kyle.”

“I still think her taste receptors have gotta be duds,” Kenny says, pouring two more shots. He passes one to each of them, bantering with Araceli the whole time.

Kyle has zero faith in his ability to successfully down this in one go, but he thinks he can maybe do it in two or three miserable gulps. He eyes the glass in his hand, strategizing how to go about this.

“Want me to help you?” Stan asks, nodding down at Kyle’s shot glass.

“Yes,” Kyle huffs. He’s not sure how Stan can help, but he needs it.

“It’s easy! Just do your best not to taste it. Try not to let it really touch your tongue, y’know?”

“’Just do my best not to taste it?’” Kyle asks back, sarcastically. “How am I supposed to not let it touch the part taking up half the space in my mouth!”

“Look, you just kinda stick your tongue out, open up your throat, and slam it. Once it’s all in your mouth, you swallow it in one gulp. You gotta be relaxed,” Kenny says. “Look.”

He downs his shot, wiping his mouth as he shivers afterwards. He reaches for a bottle of water, downing half of it.

“Okay, holy shit, that sucked.”

“Great, you guys are really helping,” Kyle deadpans.

The rest down their shots, everyone predictably taking it poorly except for Araceli. She flinches after it goes down but recovers quickly. Stan makes the most strained face after he downs his, and Butters grossly coughs, Kenny patting his back after. Kyle is the only one who hasn’t taken his shot yet, and he nervously eyes it, thinking about the advice he was given.

“Here, tilt your head back,” Stan says, gently pushing Kyle’s forehead until his head is in position. “Good! Now just relax your throat and try to let this hit the back, then swallow it. You can do it,” Stan encourages him, one hand on the back of his tilted head, the other on his hand that’s holding the shot glass. Kyle’s body tingles from Stan’s touch. Stan helps guide the shot back and down Kyle’s throat, supportively patting his back as he swallows. Kyle swallows it in one go, mostly, though he knows his face in the aftermath must be a horrible, twisted sight. Still, it’s a miracle that was as successful as it was.

“Holy shit! You did it!” Stan cheers, hand still on Kyle’s back. He can barely bask in the pride of successfully taking a shot of some of the worst vodka on earth, his mind wholly focused on Stan’s sweet blue eyes and the warm hand on his back. He faintly hears Kenny, Butters, And Araceli whooping and congratulating him, but it’s mostly a buzz in the background to him.

He is snapped out of it when he hears Araceli speak again, this time at both he and Stan.

“It was really nice meeting you two! You guys are such a cute couple, by the way. I’ll be sure to catch you two again later!” she says, walking off, leaving a hole of silence.

Kyle stares in the direction she walked away to, frozen. He suddenly aches for that whole bottle of vodka, quality be damned. Stan’s hand on his back burns, now, and he worries Stan will pull it away in disgust.

Thankfully, Stan keeps it in place, opting to nervously laugh instead. Butters is doing his nervous habit of rubbing his hands together, and the nervousness around him makes Kyle feel even more anxious.

Kenny - always the hero - swoops in, asking if anyone is brave enough to go in for another round of shots. Everyone groans and declines, the mood lightening fast. Kyle is relieved they all seem to be choosing to ignore her comment, but it also feels weird. Usually, they would all be able to laugh something like that off – a genuine laugh, not nervous laughs. He knows why it made him uncomfortable, but not why it would make the others uncomfortable. He supposes if Stan is planning on asking him out - or kissing him, or whatever tonight - it is uncomfortably close to the truth.  

As the night goes on, Kyle tries to lose himself in the party and forget about the supposedly-impending event with Stan that Henrietta may or may not have helped rig with witchy magic that he still isn’t entirely sure if he believes in or not.

He fails miserably, remaining on high alert and overanalyzing everything happening around him.

Is Stan acting off? Was that a nervous laugh from him or a genuine laugh? Is he blushing or is it the heat of the crowded room and his suit flushing his cheeks? Why did Araceli think we were together? Why did it make everyone so nervous? His mind bounces from thought to thought, barely paying attention to what else is going on.

“Kyle, are you okay?” Stan asks when they have a moment alone after catching up with Nichole.

“What? Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” Kyle sputters, his anxiety spiking. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to get through tonight when there’s so much to be unsure about. All he knows is something is supposed to happen tonight, but it could be at any point. Logically it would be a midnight kiss, he thinks. What if that’s not it, though? And even if it is, how do I act normal until midnight? That’s almost two hours away.

“You’ve just seemed kind of distracted all night. Are you overwhelmed from all the socialization or something? We can hide out somewhere for a bit if you want.”

While Stan can be dense, he somehow is always so annoyingly in tune with Kyle. They spend too much time around one another.

“I guess parties are always a bit overwhelming. But I’m fine! Don’t worry, dude,” he says, giving Stan his best smile.

“Is this something about Henrietta?” Stan asks with a frown.

“Oh my god, come on. No!” Kyle shrieks.

“Okay, okay,” Stan concedes, placing a hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “Just don’t be afraid to let me know if anything is wrong, okay?”

Stan’s eyes are warm and full of concern, making Kyle’s heart race. He’s trapped in Stan’s mesmerizing gaze and just barely manages to pull himself away.

“Sure, dude. I’ll just be right back, need to pee,” Kyle excuses himself, catching Stan furrowing his eyebrows as he turns and scurries away.

Despite most of the house being needlessly large, the bathroom is small. It’s only a half bathroom. The smallness makes it feel safe, though. It’s cozy with its mahogany wood floor and red walls. It’s pretty obvious which room’s decorations take inspiration from Kenny and which from Butters: Butters’ rooms are more childish and cutesy, while Kenny’s are elegant and warm. Some rooms strike a surprisingly fitting balance between the two styles.

Kyle sits hunched on the toilet and frantically dials Bebe’s number. She picks up after four rings. He doesn’t hesitate to begin panicking.

“Bebe, I need Henrietta’s number. Please, text it to me. I will die without it.”

“Kyle, Kyle, calm down!” Bebe says in a hushed voice. “What happened? How could you have possibly messed things up with Stan? You could tell him you hate him and he’d still gift wrap his heart for you.”

“I didn’t mess things up,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “I just need some extra advice, okay! I mean, what, any moment he could ask me out or kiss me or some shit. How am I supposed to go on like normal while knowing this! He’s going to figure out something is up if he hasn’t already.”

“Okay, yeah, you might blow your cover. You’re too high-strung! Come on, you should just try to bask in the glory that you’re finally getting your man tonight.”

“Getting my man?” he scoffs.

“Shush! The only reason I believe soul mates is a thing is because you two exist. It’s impossible for you to mess things up tonight. Anyways, I have to go since I’m at work. You’re unbelievable. I’ll text you her number though, okay?”

“Thanks, Bebe. You’re the best!”

“Yeah yeah. Love you, bye bye!”

She hangs up and as promised immediately sends him the digits he asked for. He freezes as he begins to type his message, paralyzed between the anxiety of taking a suspiciously long time in the bathroom and not wanting to annoy Henrietta, who he still fears dislikes him. He writes and deletes a few messages before he finally hits send.

Henrietta, this is Kyle. I’m freaking out a bit and don’t know what to do? Can you give me a better hint about what’s supposed to happen? I think I might blow it if I don’t have some idea of what to expect or when to expect it. Thanks.

He nervously shakes his leg as he waits for a response. Just as his mind starts to wander off and worry that Stan might have followed him to the bathroom and be waiting for him outside, his phone lights up, making him jump.

oh my god, Henrietta’s text reads.

He furrows his brows.

I forgot you were such a neurotic nerd

Not helping, he shoots back, immediately regretting it. He reads over his initial message and realizes how uncool he sounds. He reminds himself to come off more aloof.

listen, you really don’t need to do anything

just be your sweet kyle self. and be patient. the party isn’t that long

Alright, cool, he replies, trying to accept this. It’s still not enough, though.

But, like, is there any hint you can give me? Please, you seem to know something.

wait for the universe to align or whatever. be your normal self and do what you usually do

I hope the universe aligns soon.

it has been two hours, kyle

He huffs and pouts up at the ceiling, wondering if it’s worth it to openly be as pathetic as he feels.

So, when the universe aligns Stan is going to make a move, right?

look, just go have some drinks. you need to relax. every time you feel your anxiety begin to ramp up grab a drink and take a few sips from it. it’ll give you something else to focus on and the alcohol will ease you. got it?

It’s not too bad of a suggestion. He doesn’t usually drink as much as others on New Year’s, but he may as well join in the fun this time. Kyle thinks about how every time Stan drinks, he becomes a bumbling, happy idiot. He hopes he can become that tonight, too. Not to mention how the action of taking a sip might help ground him in the moment if his brain threatens to spiral.

When Kyle leaves the bathroom, he has trouble finding Stan. He’s in none of the main rooms the party is taking place in. He does find Butters messing with the bulbs on a string of unlit lights.

“Hey Butters. Have you seen Stan around?”

“Oh, jeez! Ya can’t find him, huh? Well, last I saw, he was chattin’ with Kenny in the hall outside our room! They’re probably still there. Wasn’t too long ago,” Butters says as he twists off one of the lightbulbs. “While you’re there do you mind asking Ken if he knows where the heart-shaped bulbs are? One of them burnt out, the bugger! Our first time using them, too, if you can believe it!”

“Sure, of course Butters,” Kyle says with a nod. “Good luck with the lights, they look great!”

“Well thank you!” Butters says with a proud grin. “I hope the two of them are still there!”

As Kyle makes his way through the noisy party, he becomes more eager to have a drink. For a moment he entertains the thought that Stan could be hiding from him. Part of him knows that’s ridiculous, but it’s weird he and Kenny are hanging off to the side. His stomach churns when he turns down the hall and sees them at the end, having a hushed conversation. They abruptly stop when they see him.

“Kyyyle! What’s up, buddy?” Kenny shouts, walking up to Kyle and slapping his back, clearly intoxicated.

“Hey dude,” Kyle grins at him. “Butters wanted me to ask if you knew where the heart-shaped light bulbs are at. He needs to replace one.”

“Oh no! Not the heart ones, Butters loves those!” Kenny slurs, sounding genuinely heartbroken. “I gotta go help him. You guys find us if you need anything.”

When they’re done watching Kenny scurry down the hall to save his grief-stricken boyfriend, Kyle turns to Stan, his deep need to drink bubbling over as he takes in an eyeful of Stan.

“Dude, let’s get some drinks!” Kyle exclaims, probably too loudly.

“Yeah? You don’t want to be sober for the ‘cleaning of the slate?’” Stan teases him, a smile on his face so sweet that Kyle has to look away.

He knows time is a construct, and the only tangible change the start of a new year brings is the flipping of a calendar and writing a different number down when marking the date, but it’s still nice to pretend that beginning a new year will mean something. He doesn’t like to drink much on New Year’s Eve so that he can adequately take in the magical feeling that often comes with the switch to midnight. It’s usually enhanced by the dark, twinkling atmosphere around him full of cheering people and first kisses. The signature smell of Butters’ yearly grandiose chocolate New Year’s cake wafting through the air. It’s hard to not feel hope that things can be different in a good way - that the next year can be even better than the previous - when he’s surrounded by such happy people as well as those he loves in Butters and Kenny’s fantastically decorated home.

“No, no,” Kyle waves his hands and lets out a nervous laugh, trying to come up with an excuse. “I’ve had enough years like that, why not change things up this year?”

“Thank you! Trust me, everything is better with a few drinks in you. You feel way lighter, man. Midnight will probably just feel even better this year,” Stan says, putting his hand on the small of Kyle’s back and leading them to the bar.

Kyle orders a rum and coke from the bar while Stan gets a beer. They stick around the dining room and snack on foods while they down a few drinks. Kyle goes through his fast, his heart racing more than usual at every smile from Stan. When they're done, they head to the ballroom. Kyle is pretty drunk and he can tell Stan has a nice buzz going on, though his beers haven’t done as much as Kyle’s hard liquor has.

They’re not usually ones for dancing, but since they’re intoxicated, they’re both more willing to try than they normally would be. Kyle glances at Stan and receives a knowing look, Stan grabbing Kyle’s hand. He drags him to the dance floor and they awkwardly, but carelessly, dance through a playlist of pop songs. Neither of them are particularly good at it, but neither are most people on the dance floor. Most people are just swaying through the songs; Stan and Kyle are at least attempting to move their limbs with the beat. Kyle is mostly able to lose himself in the moment and have a good time with Stan, forgetting about everything Henrietta told him, until a slow song switches on. Both of them freeze for a moment until Kenny and Butters swoop in.

“Heyyy, how are you guys doing? I’m so glad to see you two are dancing! So many people are complete party killers. Like, hello, it’s a party! No one is judging your bad dancing!” Kenny slurs as he wraps his arms around both Stan and Kyle’s shoulders, Butters standing at his side.

“I’m real glad to see you both are enjoying our party!” Butters tacks on.

“Yeah, but you guys gotta slow dance! Come on, dance time!” Kenny says. He gives Stan what Kyle thinks is a wink, but he can’t tell for sure. He and Butters slip away, and Kyle is left facing Stan while the slow song blares across the room, nowhere near stopping. He gives Stan a sheepish smile and that seems to be enough to get Stan to put both hands around Kyle’s waist. Kyle doesn’t hesitate to slide his hands onto Stan’s upper back, but internally his brain is exploding, setting off fireworks. The two slowly move together, timidly maintaining eye contact for what feels like an eternity.

Kyle has daydreamed about dancing with Stan like this, but he’s always moving smoothly and giving Stan a cool, soft grin. Instead, the alcohol has him wobbly and a silly grin is spread across his face. He dreads to think about how red his face - which is already prone to flushing - is with the mixture of alcohol, the heat of the room, and his blushing from Stan. At least the lighting is dim.

They aren’t as close as other couples in the room, but this is still intimate, something even he can’t deny. They haven’t slow danced any of the previous years and certainly haven’t held each other like this before. He starts to feel queasy as he realizes that any second now could be it. This would be the perfect time for Stan to finally make whatever move Henrietta assured him he would be making.

As they sway together, he lets out a soft, nervous laugh, and Stan laughs back. His sugary laugh makes Kyle’s heart clench and he beams at the man. Even though they’re not talking, and Kyle is internally panicking, them being together like this feels so natural. His queasiness doesn’t subside, however, and now he isn’t even sure if it’s from nervousness that Stan might make a real move during this song, or fear that Stan might not finally make a move.

Stan and Kyle dance and giggle and smile at each other through the song, and then it ends.

An upbeat pop song comes on after and all the slow movement around them picks up to match the mood. Kyle is dumbfounded. He doesn’t know what to do with himself now that he got worked up. The anxiety of having to wait even longer kicks in and Henrietta’s words to drink when he gets worried flash in his head.

“Uh, hey, I’m gonna go get another drink,” Kyle excuses himself, running off before Stan can respond.

His voice wobbles as he asks for another rum and coke, flustered at how he rudely and awkwardly left Stan on the dance floor. It felt right being there with Stan, the two almost holding one another, and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t just make a move himself at this point. But that’s not what Henrietta advised, and he still has a voice in the back of his mind telling him that Stan doesn’t like him like that. The voice nags at him that them being able to be this close is purely a result of having been best friends for so long. How could Stan like him when he can be so awkward around him even after all these years of being best friends?

Stan finds him only a minute after he gets his drink, but it’s already almost gone, him having nervously suckled it down as he agonized about what had gone wrong.

“Hey, are you okay?” Stan asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes! Yeah, of course. I’m just parched,” he responds, taking a sip of his drink to suppress nervous laughter that is threatening to bubble out.

“Shouldn’t you drink some water if you’re ‘parched?’” Stan challenges him, and Kyle cringes.

“No, really, I’m okay. I had some recently.”

Stan gives him a look but seems to either accept his response or accept that he will get nowhere if he continues to push.

“Well, if we’re done dancing, I think I’m going to get some fresh air outside. Want to join me?”

“Dude, yeah, sure! Lemme just grab another drink before we head out,” he says, embarrassed about getting another drink already. If he’s going to be away from the party with Stan, he definitely needs a drink to keep him at bay.

“Okay,” Stan says hesitantly. “I’ll meet you out there?”

“Yeah,” Kyle says, smiling. Stan responds with a heart melting smile before heading away towards the balcony.

There’s a small line for the drinks now, but it moves quickly. When he finds Stan on the balcony, no one else is out there. Kenny and Butters designated an outdoors area on the other side of the house for smoking which is probably attracting anyone wanting to step outside.

Stan’s looking out into the darkness which is dotted with the warm lights of surrounding homes and streetlights struggling to illuminate the night. Kyle settles next to Stan, leaning on the balcony railing with him. If it weren’t nighttime, they would have a breathtaking view of mountains in the distance. It’s still pretty as is. The lights of the city are dazzling and a few stars in the sky watch over them.

Kyle often dreams about he and Stan sharing a place that has a view similar to this. In his daydreams they sip their morning coffee out on their balcony while Stan reminisces about the game last night and complains about the paper’s unfair wording against his favorite player who ‘just had a bad night.’ Kyle is usually doing the paper’s crossword, asking for Stan’s assistance whenever he gets stumped. Not that Kyle has any interest in doing crossword puzzles, or that they would have any reason to have suddenly picked up reading the paper. Regardless, it feels right in his fantasy.

He has to suppress a whimper when he looks over to see Stan looking out towards the city with an impossibly soft smile on his face. His stomach lurches when Stan looks over at him with a smile that is somehow even softer. Kyle gives him a moony grin and rests his head on Stan’s shoulder, hypnotized.

“We should get a place with a view like this,” Kyle says, unable to stop his mouth despite a fuzzy voice in the back of his head telling him he’s going too far. He gets nervous when Stan doesn’t immediately reply.

“Yeah?” Stan says, his voice sounding full of wonderment.

“Yeah. Though I can’t decide if I’d rather be able to, like, walk to nice brunch places and stuff, or if I’d rather be surrounded by nature. What d’you think?” Kyle speaks slowly, trying his best not to slur his words.

Stan puts his arm around Kyle’s waist and pulls him close, bridging any gaps there were between their sides. Kyle’s insides flutter. He can barely focus when Stan speaks.

“Hmm. Well, we’ve been in walking distance of places we can get brunch at our whole lives, and we never go.”

“Yes, but those are not brunch places, Stanley,” Kyle retorts, gritting his teeth as he starts to slur. He continues more carefully. “Those are merely places we could go to for brunch, but they aren’t brunch places. There’s a difference!”

“Dude, how drunk are you?” Stan looks down at him and asks, his voice tinged with a weird concern that confuses Kyle.

“Huh? I’m fine, dude,” he says, giving his best smile.

“How many drinks have you even had?”

“Uh, I dunno,” Kyle looks at the half full drink he’s still holding in his left hand. It feels heavy, suddenly. “Not that many.”

“Kyle, I can smell the alcohol on your breath. That’s never happened before, and I’ve been around you like every time you have ever drunk,” Stan says, and Kyle can’t tell if he’s disappointed or just being matter-of-fact.

“Hey, you’ve gotten way drunker than this plenty of times. I’m allowed to get wasted too,” Kyle defends himself. His brain feels muddled; he doesn’t understand Stan’s sudden change of tune. He doesn’t think he did anything wrong, and it’s New Year’s Eve, so it’s not exactly a weird time to get drunk.

Stan pulls away from Kyle, leaving his head with nowhere to rest, and the chill of the winter air feels even colder where Stan was just touching him.

“Okay. I’m going to get you some water,” Stan says sternly before walking off.

Kyle stares at the door Stan just walked through and wilts. It hits him how harsh his comment on Stan’s previous drinking was considering Stan’s family’s history with alcoholism. Stan has often confided in him his fears of winding up like his family that he resents so much. Stan has always been careful around alcohol, his own problems with addiction having become apparent at a young age. He remembers when Stan was just ten and already struggling to not resort to alcohol to cope with the day. Kyle feels so stupid. He can’t believe he got so defensive.

Stan comes back 10 minutes later with a cup of water for each of them in hand. He silently hands Kyle his cup and moves to rest on the railing, looking back out over it while he sips at his own water.

“Stan, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’ll slow down my drinking,” Kyle promises, though at this point in the night it is a fruitless promise. It’s 20 minutes until midnight and the party usually starts to die down around 1.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you’re having fun, dude,” Stan says, looking over to give Kyle a reassuring smile. Stan isn’t one to hold grudges, but Kyle is surprised he didn’t at least badger him about his comment a few times. It’s a sensitive issue for Stan. Then again, it took him a while to get the water, so he probably spent some of that time cooling off.

“Thanks, Stan. I hope you’re having fun too,” he says, gently headbutting his arm.

“Yeah.”

They decide it’s close enough to midnight to head inside and get in position for the midnight festivities. The festivities mostly comprise of confetti falling over kissing couples and Butters ceremonially cutting his grandiose cake. The switch to the new year is an exciting moment.

The party is livelier than before, the crowd getting riled up for midnight. Stan and Kyle hardly have time to breathe, the two bouncing from person to person saying hellos and catching up with old friends. Despite the alcohol to help fuzz his brain and chill him out, he can’t keep himself focused on their interactions. While Token tries to talk to he and Stan about how he pities them for still living in South Park, Kyle focuses on how midnight has to be the moment he has been waiting for. It is the most pivotal moment of New Year’s Eve, after all. There is no reason he can think of that Stan would need or want to wait until after midnight. After midnight, you’ve missed the chance for a midnight kiss.

Kyle only manages to get in one more drink before midnight, but it’s probably for the best considering how much he has already had. He doesn’t want to be too drunk to give back a decent kiss, though he has a gnawing worry that he has surpassed that point.

The DJ announces that it’s 5 minutes until midnight and proceeds to count down every minute. It’s the fastest 5 minutes of Kyle’s life. A flash of colorful lights, the blur of Stan dancing in front of him, the bass heavy music drowning out most other noises. Everything is a blur until the crowd joins the DJ in a 10 second countdown, where time seems to slow. He and Stan sway in front of one another along with the rest of the crowd. Lights around the room flash white and yellow, now. 5 seconds left. He glances to his left and sees Kenny and Butters with their arms around one another, drunkenly shouting the countdown in one another’s faces. 3 seconds left. He looks up to Stan who greets him with a smile and the sweetest eyes he has ever seen. Despite their eye contact, Stan isn’t moving towards him. It’s midnight, now, and they’re still apart. Everyone around them is sharing kisses and hugs. But not he and Stan.

He barely processes Stan saying happy New Year to him and tries to muster up his best smile. He wants to enjoy the moment, there is nothing bad happening right now, and maybe he was foolish for expecting more. It’s his own fault he got his hopes up, and he tries to push himself to try and forget about it and just enjoy the happy energy of the room.

Kenny and Butters come over to cheer with them, slapping their backs and pulling them close. Kenny speaks to him, but he can’t process what he’s saying, can’t bring himself back from his disappointment and aching heart. The alcohol lacing his blood only makes everything more difficult to piece together and deal with. He cuts Kenny off to excuse himself and scurries away to the guest room.

Kyle closes the door to the room and sits on the bed, hurriedly pulling out his phone. He types a message to Henrietta.

henrietta nothing happened? Im confsued

Kyle stares at his phone after he hits send, praying for a fast reply. When he doesn’t immediately see typing bubbles, he anxiously shoots her another text.

I know the night isn’t over eyt but why wouldn’t he do it by midnight and like especially why wouldnt he kiss me I don’t underatand. that’s literaly the whole point of nye????

what do I do now?? What was even supposed to happen

He throws his phone next to him on the bed when he’s done panicking and flops onto his back. The room is lit by harsh white light that hurts Kyle’s eyes, souring his mood more. He resents that guest rooms are somehow always lit so terribly, but it’s either this or he sit in the pitch black which would just be even more pathetic.

He tries to piece together everything that happened tonight and thinks on all Henrietta has told him, but it’s hard processing much through the fog of all the alcohol he has drunk.

He feels stupid that he got his hopes up. Why would this year be any different than any other? And why would Henrietta know about anything Stan is planning? There’s also no reason for her to lie to him, though. Nothing makes sense.

Overwhelmed and sick of pining for Stan, he can’t stop tears from spilling out of his eyes. He sits up and puts his head in his hands, letting the tears come.

His bad luck doesn’t end; he hears the squeak of the door opening and freezes the best he can through his sobs. The door clicks shut and the bed sinks when someone sits down next to him.

“Kyle? What happened?” Stan asks in a soft voice, rubbing a hand up and down his back.

“It’s nothing,” he replies, looking up at Stan. He immediately regrets looking up because the minute he sees Stan’s gentle, concerned eyes, his tears start to flow heavier than before.

“Hey, dude, it’s okay,” Stan gives him a brief but tight hug before going back to rubbing his back. “Did you drink too much?”

“No,” Kyle sighs. “I mean, yes. But no. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I just. I thought something was going to happen tonight!”

Stan stops rubbing Kyle’s back but keeps his hand in place.

“What do you mean?” Stan asks in an offputtingly stern voice. His eyes are wide and so full of concern, it makes Kyle’s heart stop.

“Henrietta,” he starts, irritated when her name gets no response from Stan. If he wasn’t in on a plan with her, it will be hard to explain. “Henrietta said – well, I mean. I don’t know, Stan! We were supposed to get together tonight!”

“How did you know?” Stan asks with a cock of his head, a habit Bebe swears Stan picked up from Kyle. He can remember him doing it as long as he’s known him, though.

“What do you mean?” Kyle asks. The white light of the room has never felt more overwhelming. The buzz of the party outside suddenly seems louder.

“What do you mean?!”

“Stan!” Kyle screeches, too exhausted and intoxicated to attempt to approach any of this delicately anymore. “I thought you were going to kiss me at midnight!”

“What?” Stan asks, and the bewildered look in his eyes makes tears flood from Kyle’s eyes again. “Why would Henrietta tell you that? That’s so mean!”

“Don’t rub it in,” Kyle says, pulling himself away. Stan grabs one of his knees as he tries to turn toward the wall.

“Wait, no. Kyle! Dude,” Stan says, his words turning to pleas. Kyle turns back towards him, guarded. “I was going to ask you out tonight.”

Everything inside of Kyle freezes and crashes, like he’s a computer on the fritz.

“What?”

“Yes. I just. Kyle, you got too drunk. You kept drinking and drinking, and by the time I was ready to ask you out, you were just too drunk for me to do it in good conscience,” Stan says, giving Kyle’s knee a squeeze.

Kyle’s jaw drops to what feels like the floor, his brain trying to process Stan’s words through his feelings of disbelief and horror. He can’t speak until someone scoops his jaw up from the ground and snaps it back on.

“Kyle, how did you know? Did Kenny tell you?” Stan asks, searching Kyle’s eyes with his. “How does Henrietta even factor into any of this?”

“Jesus Christ,” Kyle says, his cheeks burning at the thought of having to explain Henrietta’s involvement in this. “It’s… a long story. Also, I’m not even entirely sure? Dude, I’m just so embarrassed. I can’t believe I’m so drunk.”

“Kyle, dude, I get the temptation of drinking things away. I mean, you just did what people are supposed to on New Year’s. I don’t know why I even thought making the leap on such a chaotic night, surrounded by dozens of other people, was the right move,” Stan says, giving Kyle a wobbly smile.

“Stan, you could ask me out in your trash-filled car around a mouthful of greasy burger and I’d still say yes. I might even prefer that, even,” Kyle says, giggling as he speaks. He can’t actually imagine Stan asking him out in such a manner, but it’s a great image.

Stan seems captivated by Kyle’s laughter and succumbs to it himself. They fall into a fit of laughter together, Stan’s hand on Kyle’s knee clutching it hard as he tries to control himself.

When their laughter dies down, exhaust settles into Kyle. He wipes the last of the wetness off his eyes – the wetness being from his previous crying and tears the laughter brought – and glances at the digital clock on the bedside table. He’s surprised to see it’s only 12:10. Midnight feels so distant now.

“Does this mean you want to be my boyfriend?” Stan asks, and Kyle snaps his gaze away from the clock and back to Stan.

He beams, the word boyfriend bouncing around in his head. He has waited so long to hear this from him.

Kyle grabs Stan’s face and kisses him, the passion he built up over 22 years of knowing him let out in it. It’s inevitably messy, the passion unable to overcome his drunkenness, and he pulls away with a sheepish smile. Stan looks stunned: a smile spread across his lips and a dazed look is in his eyes.

“I can give you better kisses,” Kyle says with a nervous laugh, thumbing at Stan’s cheek. “In the morning.”

“Okay,” Stan murmurs, leaning into Kyle’s hand. “It’s unreal being able to kiss you at all.”

Kyle can’t help but give him another kiss, this one quicker than the last. They press their foreheads together after and spend a moment taking it all in.

“God, Kyle. I can’t believe this finally happened. I was so upset when I thought tonight wouldn’t finally be the night,” Stan says, pulling his forehead away from Kyle’s. “I was more sure than ever that it would finally happen! Kenny was gassing me up all night-“

“Kenny KNEW?” Kyle asks, aghast.

“I mean, I had to tell someone! What, Bebe didn’t know?”

“Yeah, Bebe knew. But that was it! I was way too cowardly to tell Kenny or Butters, or anyone who interacts with both of us! Shit, I would have thought they would give it away,” Kyle says.

“No, yeah, Kenny threatened to tell you about my feelings what must have been a hundred times. Not very helpful. Butters at least gave me his pity a few times and reassured me that you would take my feelings well."

“Oh my god,” Kyle says with a laugh, his breath hitching when he sees the full smile Stan is giving him. “I’m surprised they both managed to keep that secret.”

“Oh, no kidding,” Stan eagerly replies. “Honestly, was surprised their reactions around us when we talked tonight didn’t give it away. They made it so obvious that something was up, dude.”

“No way!”

“Yes way!”

“Ugh,” Kyle says, trying to remember if he took his eyes off Stan once all night outside of when others spoke to him. “I was too nervous to notice anything. I was fully absorbed in analyzing you. Kenny could have been wearing a clown nose all night and I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Analyzing me?” Stan teases him. “Am I that cute?”

“Shut up! I meant, like, your behavior. But, yes, that too.”

“Dude,” Stan says, cheeks flushed, the word loaded with more affection than such a casual word should be capable of holding.

“So I take it we’re done with the party?” Kyle asks.

“Dude, you are so drunk! Your hangover is gonna be so bad tomorrow. I think we’re done.”

“I don’t really get bad hangovers,” Kyle mumbles as he rubs his eyes. His exhaustion is setting in. “Will you go to bed too?”

Kyle has spent countless hours imagining what it would be like to truly cuddle with Stan. They’ve had the night here and there where they talk in the dark nearly holding one another, or times where they wake up to one spooning the other, but those don’t quite match being able to shamelessly indulge in being close to one another.

“Oh, absolutely. Tonight has been exhausting.”

“God,” Kyle groans. He will never get over almost ruining his chances tonight. “I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassing.”

“No, Kyle!” Stan pleads, grabbing Kyle’s arm and giving him a light shake. “If I weren’t such an idiot I could have asked you out earlier. Like, who was I just assuming you wouldn’t get drunk on New Year’s Eve?”

“We’re both idiots,” Kyle says, leaning his head on Stan and laughing. They fall into a fit of giggles together. Just when Kyle thinks he can control himself and catch his breath, he looks at Stan, and his breath is taken away again by how beautiful he looks. There’s something so wonderful about seeing those you care about experiencing euphoria.

They settle into bed, Kyle finally able to turn the lights off, to his relief. Not only were they burning his eyes, but the darkness emboldens him. He doesn’t hesitate to entangle his legs with Stan’s and lay forehead-to-forehead with him. They talk more about how nervous they both were during the party and Stan unsuccessfully pries for information on how Henrietta is entangled with everything. Kyle falls asleep before Stan can pull out a coherent enough response from him.

When Kyle wakes up, he’s relieved to see Stan underneath him – Kyle using his chest as his own personal pillow – none of the previous night having been a dream. The soft glow of the sun coming in through the window beautifully illuminates Stan, and Kyle can’t help but stare at him. He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to ruin this peaceful moment by waking Stan up, but his mouth is dry. When he sits up to drink from the bottle of water on the bedside table, Stan predictably stirs.

“Hey,” Stan mumbles, his voice deep with sleep. He stretches with a loud groan and sits up, facing Kyle with a bleary smile.

“Hey,” Kyle beams back.

“How long have you been up?” Stan asks, reaching out his hand for the water. Kyle hands it over and watches him greedily chug it, water dripping down his mouth. He wants to wipe it away, but being able to be this openly intimate with Stan is still so foreign to him.

“Just a couple minutes. I think I woke you, actually. Sorry.”

“Mmm,” Stan hums. “Alcohol always makes me a light sleeper.”

Kyle laughs when Stan takes another chug of water and chokes on it. Even when grossly choking on water, Stan is unfairly adorable. Kyle takes the water back from him and takes a few pointedly dignified sips from it, to which Stan rolls his eyes.

“How bad is your hangover?” Stan asks, tenderly swiping Kyle’s curls behind his ears.

“Hmm. Not too bad. Could be better, though. Some food would probably help. You?”

“I didn’t have much to drink last night. Was too nervous. I could barely even keep water down,” Stan says, looking down with a shy smile. Kyle’s heart wrings, him full of remorse. he intertwines one of his hands with Stan’s.

“Stan, I am so sorry I got so drunk last night. I’d never usually get that drunk. I know how uncomfortable heavy drinking can make you. I don’t know how I convinced myself that was the best way to go about things.”

“Kyle, hey,” Stan gives his hand a squeeze. “It’s okay, dude. I know you. And it’s not like it’s a pattern for you to heavily drink. You’re allowed to have fun. I wasn’t upset because of that on the balcony, by the way. It just kind of occurred to me at that moment that you were too drunk for me to ask you out and I was a bit of an asshole about it.”

“Oh,” Kyle says, everything making a lot more sense now. “Well, regardless, I don’t know if I’ll ever drink like that again. Henrietta got it into my head that it would help my nerves.”

“Wait, you have got to tell me more about this Henrietta stuff,” Stan says with a smirk which just widens when Kyle groans. “So, like, she wasn’t just over at your place for advice about Bebe?”

“Oh, god,” Kyle withdraws his hand and covers his face.

“Come on, Kyle! Last night you were talking about how she told you I’d kiss you? Something like that.”

Kyle dramatically falls back into Stan’s lap so he doesn’t have to look at him as he tells him all about his run ins with Henrietta. He turns around and shows Stan his pout when he won’t let him get past him eating alone at Benny’s. Stan whines about how sad the image of that is and makes Kyle promise they can have a date at Benny’s soon to make up for it. Kyle has to be goaded with pecks to divulge the part where Kyle went to the bathroom during the party to send panic-texts to Henrietta. It’s long and difficult to explain everything about Henrietta since he himself still doesn’t quite know how she knew Stan was planning to make a move. Even Stan can offer no insight once Kyle fills him in, leaving them both confused.

Soon, the smells of breakfast come wafting into their room and Kyle is reminded of how much his body needs some sustenance. Stan and Kyle share a quick, shy kiss before they get out of bed. They spend a few minutes getting ready and then head to the kitchen, hand in hand.

“Oh, no way!” Butters squeals when he sees them enter the kitchen holding hands. He drops the plate of french toast he’s holding and squeezes them both into a hug. “Kenny, look, look! You guys, no way! Oh my goodness.”

“Holy shit!” Kenny exclaims as he scampers over to them, pulling Butters off the two so he can gawk at them. “You bastards! I was planning to make some adorable heart shaped pancakes for you two until Stan told me he didn’t get to ask you out last night! C’mon, what happened!” 

Stan and Kyle share a bashful look, the red in their faces deepening when Kenny puts his arm around Butters and surveys them with a proud look. Kyle feels like he’s just announced his relationship to his parents. Though, thinking on it, telling his real parents would involve a lot of cheek pinching and cautionary tales about Stan’s parents or things he did when he was eight, as if those reflect on him.

Nichole and Red wake up for breakfast and have an eerily similar reaction to Butters and Kenny when they hear the news. Butters and Kenny shuffle everyone to their dining room table and serve heaping plates of french toast, bacon, eggs, and hash browns. Butters gets overly excited when Red points out he can use a heart-shaped cookie cutter and sprinkle powdered sugar over it to get a heart shape on the french toast for Stan and Kyle as a replacement for Kenny’s missed pancakes.

As they all eat, everyone badgers them for details on how everything ended up coming together. Kyle is a little annoyed when he finds out Nichole and Red also knew that Stan was going to ask him out last night, Kenny having told them. It’s hard to let anything bother him too much at a time like this, though.

“This is kind of dramatic but the two of you getting together gives me so much hope about the new year. Like, you two finally getting together is a great sign,” Red gushes.

“Like things are really starting to fall into place” Nichole says, nodding.

Kyle catches Stan shooting Kenny a confused look, Kenny shooting a smug smile back.

“I’m not really sure I understand what you guys mean,” Kyle says, though he can guess.

“Gee, guys. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but you both have just seemed so enamored with one another for forever! It’s about time you two got together.” Butters says, nervously fidgeting his hands together and smiling at them.

“I just about screamed at you and Wendy when you and her got back together in ninth grade because even then it felt past time you two get together!” Nichole exclaims, looking at Stan and then Kyle.

“Don’t even get me started on this stuff,” Kenny says, sliding down in his seat. “I have screamed at Stan about it. To be fair, not my proudest moment.”

“No kidding,” Stan deadpans.

“Anyways,” Kenny begins, straightening his back and slamming his hands on the table. “Thank god you two are finally together. Butters no longer has to talk me out of confessing for both of you once a month.”

“See, this is why I never directly told you I had feelings for Stan,” Kyle teases.

“Okay, but I still knew anyway! Stan’s bad at keeping secrets, so he told me about his crush. And you are way more readable than you think, Kyle.”

He resents this, but Kenny is right. Especially regarding to his feelings towards Stan. He’s rarely attempted to conceal how in love he is when in Stan’s presence. After so many years of it, it began to seem unnecessary to put much effort into hiding it. He always figured that, if asked, he could chalk it up to Stan being his best friend. And when asked, he did.

“Seriously, though. I’m really happy for you guys. This is awesome. I better be best man in the wedding, I swear to god,” Kenny jokes.

Most of breakfast is spent talking about Stan and Kyle, past and present. Everyone takes their turn lovingly teasing the pair. After, everyone helps clean up the mess from the party. Butters turns on music so they can dance and sing as they pick up.

The drive home is full of hope. They can’t help but talk and speculate about the future. Kyle rationalizes that they’ve had feelings for one another long enough; it almost is as if they’ve been dating for years now, anyway. Stan can’t stop looking over at Kyle to admire him despite needing to watch the road. Stan sheepishly tells Kyle how his mom knew about his plans to ask Kyle out and how he plans to call her when he gets home. Kyle thinks he’ll probably just text his mom about how he and Stan are boyfriends now, though he knows she’ll call him the minute she reads it anyway. Still, the news seems easier to break over text. The car ride goes by fast. Faster than it ever has for Kyle, and he’s driven the length between Denver and South Park a hundred times in his life. They share tentative kisses once Stan parks in front of Kyle’s apartment. Kyle doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to this. The feeling of Stan’s soft lips. His hands in Stan’s silky hair. His face being gently cradled by Stan’s big, warm hands. It’s magical.

“We should go on a date as soon as possible,” Kyle says, pulling away from Stan’s lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course, dude,” Stan agrees, rubbing his thumb along Kyle’s jawline and grinning at him. “I have to work tonight, but I can do tomorrow?”

“That would be perfect,” Kyle says. That gives him time to get answers out of Henrietta.

“Where do you want to go?”

“What, you don’t want to do that Benny’s date yet?” Kyle teases. His heart melts a little more at every one of Stan’s strokes to his face. It completely liquidates when Stan laughs at his comment.

“This is kind of embarrassing, but I sort of have a dream first date for us. Like, a scenario I’ve dreamed of for years.”

“Dude!”

“It’s so dumb. It’s not even, like, that great of a fantasy. I mean, it’s awesome because you’re part of it, but I’m so boring.”

“Stan! Well, now you have to tell me!” Kyle pries, delighted he isn’t the only one who has fantasized about dates. Kyle’s were always more generic fantasies, though. A lot of time spent during hangouts daydreaming how different they would be if he and Stan were together. “We’ll do it. No matter how bland it is.”

“Okay,” Stan sighs and readjusts, opting to nervously play with Kyle’s fingertips. “Well, there’s nothing great in South Park. Except the mountains and shit, that’s gorgeous and whatever. But for dates, there’s not much, right?  Everyone always settles for Applebee’s, so I couldn’t help but imagine us going there too.”

“Applebee’s!?” Kyle barks, grabbing Stan’s hands when he tries to pull them back.

“There are only so many options! And, ok, this is even dumber, but I remember sophomore year I was so jealous when Butters and Kenny went on that date to Applebee’s. Kenny gushed about how he saved up enough money to take Butters on a date there. He talked about it like it was the best night of his life! I get now that’s partially because doing ‘adult’ things when you’re young feels so cool, plus Kenny’s financial situation meant he couldn’t go out like that often. Still, them going made me want to go there with you even more than before.”

“I know how integral Applebee’s is to this town’s romance scene,” Kyle reassures Stan.

“Thank you. Anyway, after we have the most iconic Applebee’s date anyone has ever had, we could just go to your place and watch some low effort sitcoms or something. I don’t know. We don’t need to do anything that exciting because everything I do with you is automatically exciting?”

“Stan-”

“And I know we already eat at places together and already watch shitty TV together, but this would be different since it’s an intentional date! I can actually put my arm around you on the couch or whatever,” Stan trails off, the pink of his flushed face deepening.

“Stan, I love you,” Kyle says, the words spilling out of his mouth. His brain whirs with fear; he knows it’s early to say that, but Stan has the magic ability to always make Kyle feel so safe. Stan spends a moment staring at Kyle before responding.

“Because of Applebee’s?” Stan asks, cracking a smile.

“Shut up, you asshole!” Kyle laughs and playfully shoves Stan’s shoulder.

Stan falls into a fit of giddy laughter with him, anxiety and jokes a deadly mixture. When they both regain their breath, Stan leans in and slots their lips together, giving Kyle the best kiss they’ve had yet.

“I love you too,” Stan says, pulling away and rubbing his thumb along Kyle’s jawbone again.

They kiss more and Kyle reassures him that he isn’t alone in previously imagining them being on dates. Stan has to remind Kyle that he has work in a few hours and Kyle begrudgingly gets out of Stan’s car and bids him farewell. It’ll be nice to have some time to process everything, anyway. Stan promises he’ll call him when he gets off of work.  

The next morning, Kyle storms Henrietta’s apartment, desperate for answers. She opens the door on the third knock, smirking when she sees it’s him.

“I heard things went well,” she says, opening the door for him.

Her apartment is beautifully decorated, balancing on a fine line between tacky-halloween and elegant-gothic. It’s surprisingly tasteful, warm light illuminating red painted walls. Framed photography lines the walls, most of it silhouettes. He faintly recalls Bebe telling him once that Henrietta is into photography. One picture in her living room is a framed photograph of she and Bebe. They’re sitting on the bench at Stark’s pond on a snowy, cloudy day, Bebe kissing Henrietta’s cheek.

“I mean, they turned out fine after I started crying to him!” Kyle says, flopping onto her couch. She sits on the other end and crosses her legs.

“What? What the fuck did you do, dude.”

“I followed your advice!” he says, starting to get riled up. He reminds himself it’s not a big deal and isn’t actually her fault. He is the one who chose to drink that much. “I mean, I just drank too much. I didn’t handle things well.”

“Clearly,” she deadpans, and Kyle wonders if the softness he thought she was showing him at Benny’s was all in his head, or simply a fluke.

She must catch his confused look because her eyes flash with what he thinks is panic and she offers him an apology.

“Sorry, I sometimes forget how to talk to people who aren’t in my immediate inner-circle. I’m happy for you that everything worked out. Really.”

“Thanks,” Kyle says, smiling. He explains the events of the night to her, filling her in on exactly what led to his panicked texts to her and how things played out after that. He turns red as he gushes about how well it went telling Stan he loves him yesterday despite how soon it was. Henrietta reassures him that it makes sense things are moving so fast; they’re making up for lost time.  

“You have to tell me – how did you know he would ask me out?” He asks.

Henrietta throws her head back and lets out a warm laugh. “How do you think I knew?”

He thinks for a moment on how to explain his theories without sounding like an idiot.  

“Well, he seemed to really like how I smelled, but I know it wasn’t any weird pheromone shit because he had already been planning on asking me out.”

“Yeah, it’s just a good scent that I’ve noticed always grabs people’s attention. What can I say, I make a good perfume.”

“I really… don’t know, otherwise? You and the others were always doing weird spells growing up – but there’s no way that’s real,” Kyle says, raising an eyebrow at her. He knows it’s not. Henrietta challenges him with an unnerving smirk, making him ramble on. “I mean, what, is it some weird gothy wisdom? Do you somehow have some special connection to the world?”

“Well, I’m not going to say I don’t have some special ability or understanding on how to tap into the world,” Henrietta says, amused. “But I feel too bad to lie to you. I just overheard a conversation between Stan and Kenny where they were talking about you.”

Kyle wants to smack himself over how simple and obvious this all seems, now.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that before?” He asks, gawking at her.

“Look, it’s not good to meddle in other people’s love lives that much. I mean, with how much you freaked out at the party with the little you did know, I’m super glad I didn’t meddle more.”

“To be fair, we did get together that night.”

“Okay, but that’s not because of my meddling,” Henrietta flatly says, blowing her bangs away from her eyes. “Besides, he didn’t ask you out like he was planning. You had a breakdown and confessed or whatever.”

He hasn’t had much time to agonize about just how pathetic he was last night until now. He had been too caught up in worrying he was being disrespectful drinking so heavily in front of Stan, then being excited about how things worked out.

“Oh, god. You’re right, Jesus. He must really like me if he got with me after all of that.”

“Uh, you think?” Henrietta cackles. “Kyle, I have always been so separated from your social circle and even me and the guys knew you two had a thing for each other all throughout school. I cannot believe I was the first one to intervene.”

“Ugh, I heard similar this morning,” Kyle thinks about everyone’s reactions of excitement and relief this morning, as if they had been holding their breath this whole time. “I’m mostly surprised Kenny never spilled to me. He likes to stoke fires. Or Butters, for that matter. He’s usually an anxious mess when he knows something someone around him doesn’t.”

Henrietta offers Kyle some tea and they have an unexpectedly cozy chat. Kyle can feel her guard slowly coming down, and he becomes more comfortable with the dry way she speaks. He can’t help but spend most of his time glancing around at the decorations in her living room. It’s busy – beautifully decorated with ornate figures and wall art. Her many lamps cast abstract shadows. She doesn’t seem to either notice or care about his lack of eye contact. Henrietta is surprisingly easy to talk to now that they’re in a comfortable environment and have broken the ice. She opens up about how she and Bebe getting together was also not the easiest journey. Kyle remembers the months long “will-they-won’t-they” leading up to the two getting together, starting when Bebe landed a job at the same place Henrietta works. Bebe’s natural flirty spirit that she has with everyone and Henrietta’s aloof appearance made it impossible for either of them to tell what the other felt. Henrietta recounts the times she would plan lines to use to flirt with Bebe, oftentimes with the help of her friends, only for them to fall flat when she couldn’t execute them right. Still, she and Bebe naturally grew closer, and Bebe eventually gave in and asked Henrietta on a date.

“You know, we should have a double date sometime,” Kyle suggests, lightly drumming his fingers against his cup. His stomach flutters as he suggests it, being able to go on dates with Stan being so new and exciting. Dates with Stan will never not be exciting. He has so often talked about he and Stan as a sort of pair in the past – they’ve always been a package deal - but now it’s even more warranted than before.

“What, you and Stan and me and Bebe?” Henrietta raises her eyebrow. “I’m not sure I’ve had a full conversation with Stan since elementary school, probably?”

“Exactly! You and Stan would totally get along. It’d be cool if you two got to know one another better. Besides, he and Bebe aren’t as close as I’d like them to be.”

“Really, you think Stan and I would get along?” she scoffs.

“Totally! I mean, I think you freak him out a bit, but you both have tendencies towards nihilism. You guys can spiral together or whatever,” he half jokes. Really, it might help Stan if he has someone to talk to who sees eye to eye with him about the meaningless of the world.

“Ha ha,” she deadpans, the hint of a smile showing. “You know, I kind of admire him. He’s jock-y, but not in an annoying way. A real mystery.”

“Tell Bebe that. She thinks since she’s dating an ‘alt-girl’ now, it puts her on some higher tier than me!”

“Wait, wait, wait. She’s been referring to me as an alt-girl?” Henrietta widens her eyes.

Kyle stifles a laugh and considers how to tread forward, Henrietta seeming genuinely offended. “It’s not an insult. She probably just doesn’t know her labels well.”

Kyle ends up staying at Henrietta’s for a long time, late enough that she helps him get ready for his date. It’s reminiscent of when she helped him get ready before the party the other day. She helps him tidy up his look and sprays him with the same perfume, giving him a bottle to pocket.

The date is sweet. Everything Kyle dreamed it would be and more. It’s at once just like their normal hangouts and a thousand times better than them. The food is average, but the company is spectacular. Kyle barely remembers he even has food in front of him, too absorbed in how a blush creeps onto Stan’s face every time he laughs, or how Stan’s mouth adorably crooks up to the left when he talks too excitedly.

Stan agrees to a double date with Henrietta and Bebe on the condition that they see a movie together so they all have something to talk about. Kyle argues they will not be able to find a movie that’s agreeable to all of them but concedes eventually. He doesn’t think they’ll struggle to find conversation, but he throws Stan a bone. Stan is not surprised when Kyle tells him how Henrietta found out Stan was going to ask Kyle out. He also, thankfully, doesn’t assume Henrietta was maliciously listening in on their conversation or anything. Stan recounts he and Kenny smoking behind the mall, Stan whining to Kenny about how he doesn’t know what to do about his feelings. Unbeknownst to both of them, Henrietta was just around the corner, also smoking. Kyle aches for past Stan who was agonizing about how to get him when it all could have been so easy. Everything feels so balanced now, and any of Kyle’s worries seem so small with Stan here like this. With Stan, nothing can be that bad.

It’s just after 8 pm now, and Stan and Kyle are blissfully cuddling in front of the TV. They share a package of untoasted Pop-Tarts, the desserts at Applebee’s not having been worth the price. It’s just the two of them, just like things always have been, and like Kyle hopes they always will be.