Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stan is only 10 years old and already aware that what he has with Kyle is different from what everyone else has with their best friends. 

They sit next to each other in every class, spend every break together, hang about entirely often at the other’s house after school. They have sleepovers on the weekends, playing video games into the night, whispering because they don’t want Sheila to hear that they’re up past 11. Stan never gets sick of Kyle, no matter how often he sees him. He sometimes wonders if he ever will, or if Kyle will be the one to get sick of him instead. 

They finish 5th grade and the summer is a blur, the days sticking together. Stan spends most of them with Kyle. Today, they’re at Stark’s pond together, lying in the grass. It’s dry and hot, the sky blue above them, and there’s no one around. Their parents had agreed to let them roam around the neighborhood on summer afternoons if they promised to take care of each other. 

Stan turns to look at Kyle from where he’s lying next to him. Kyle is staring up at the sky. His eyelashes look so long from the side, almost like a girl’s, and he’s smiling in a relaxed manner, the sun falling on his face. He has a lot of freckles during summer, and his cheeks flush red. 

Stan looks up too, if only to see what Kyle’s looking at. The clouds are moving fast above them. 

“That one looks like your dog” Kyle giggles next to him, pointing. Stan looks at him again. 

“Like Sparky?” he mumbles. Kyle laughs more. Stan likes it when he laughs. Sometimes Kyle worries too much, just like his mother. 

“Yeah, look dude!” 

Stan doesn’t look up, just smiles. 

“The cloud looks like Sparky? Really Kyle?” he teases. Kyle punches him on his upper arm.

“Shut up” he mumbles, smiling from ear to ear. 

They lie in the grass all afternoon, the sun rounding out the sky above them. The day drifts away with the warmth of summer, and the birds and bugs in the grass. Stan replays those moments before he goes to sleep, a stop-motion movie of Kyle, smiling, turning away, the golden glow of his hair in the sunlight. The way he laughs, with eyes closed and shoulders shaking. 

-

They enter middle school, and Stan feels sick to his stomach when Kyle is assigned to work on a lab project with someone else. It’s not that he’s partnered up with someone else, the teachers assigned them like that. It’s the fact that Stan can see Kyle laughing, having fun, with someone that’s not him. 

He feels ashamed and stupid, a pit of fire in his stomach. Back at home, he sits on the kitchen counter, sulking and his mom rubs his shoulder, telling him it’s normal to feel a bit possessive of your friends sometimes. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. 

“You and Kyle are best friends. That’s not gonna change Stanley” she says, soothing tone, sounding so, so sure. 

But Stan knows that what she’s saying isn’t true, in the back of his mind. The fact that he’s jealous of someone else interacting with Kyle is not normal, and he knows that. He just doesn’t know how to stop feeling that way. He pushes his feelings away, never mentions them again to his mom, or anyone. It’ll go away - he’s sure of it. 

-

When they are 12 years old, they watch a horror movie together for the first time. 

Their grade got it passed down from the eighth graders. It’s a DVD with a sketchy looking cover, creepy font with dripping blood. All the kids in their class have watched it, and when Stan and Kyle finally get a hold of it, they decide to watch it together. 

They’re at Stan’s house, and his parents aren’t home. They still go on date nights every other week, even though they spend all the other nights fighting. Stan tries to forget about that too, pressing his pillow over his head when his dad breaks glasses and his mom screams at him for it.

Kyle sits with his knees up next to Stan. He’s warm, Stan can feel it, wrapped up in a blanket. Stan thinks about moving to get under the blanket with him, then decides that’s possibly slightly weird, even though they do everything together. This overthinking of his movements around Kyle was a recent development, something that annoys him endlessly. He isn’t sure why he does it, can’t help the thoughts from coming. He doesn’t grab the blanket, remains cold instead. 

The movie is scary, but in a shallow way; blood, gore, severed arms. Not interesting enough to actually capture Stan’s attention. Kyle however, watches with wide eyes, half his face buried in the blanket. When something scares him, he twitches slightly. With every movement, he gets closer to Stan, their legs pressed together with only the blanket between them. Stan can feel Kyle’s hands shaking. 

“It’s okay Kyle” he whispers, not sure how to provide him comfort. The movie isn’t that scary to him, but Kyle has always been more sensitive to these kinds of things, often letting scary thoughts actively bother him, leaving rationality behind all together.

Stan tries to actually follow the movie for a little bit. When he looks over to Kyle again, he notices that the other boy is blinking away tears silently. 

“Dude, Kyle, are you okay?” Stan whispers. Kyle wipes his face rapidly. 

“Yeah - yeah, I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid, I’m sorry” he mumbles. Stan does lift the blanket then, to get under and put his arm around Kyle’s shoulder. 

“Dude, it’s fine. It’s not stupid” he says, and then; “I’ll protect you”. 

Kyle bites down on his bottom lip hard. 

“I’m sorry” he murmurs again. He keeps wiping at his eyes but the tears keep coming. 

Stan feels inclined to lean in even more, to fully hug Kyle. He’s tried to be less touchy as of lately, so painfully aware of his own habits. But Kyle needs it. And so, Stan does. 

“Hey - hey it’s alright” he murmurs, arms circling around Kyle. 

Kyle doesn’t say anything, just cries like a child, silently, like something terrible will happen if he makes a noise. 

“Dude Kyle, is it too scary? We can turn it off” Stan whispers. 

Kyle shakes his head against his shoulder. 

“It’s not the movie it’s- I don’t know what it is”

“It’s alright. I’m here”

They sit there for much longer than the movie lasts. Even after it ends, Stan still holds Kyle close. He knows then, that it takes nothing from him to want to protect Kyle, keep him safe. Maybe it’s in his nature. That’s a silly thought, but it’s something he’s felt probably all his life, for longer than he can even remember. 

For days after, Stan thinks about Kyle’s scrunched up face and the tears falling down his cheeks and realizes that he wants to do everything in his power to keep him from crying again. 

-

Over the course of 7th grade, Stan starts liking Wendy Testaburger. He’s not sure how it starts, thinks that part of it has just been him playing into everyone’s expectations of him. His mom would smile a little wider if he talked about Wendy. The boys in his class would pat him on the back, talk him up, and just like that Stan was trying so hard to get Wendy to like him.
Wendy is a great girl, Stan knows this. He’s known her for a long time already, and she’s smart and feisty and cool. Way cooler than he deserves, probably. He thinks about her a lot, thinks about what it would be like to hold her hand, to kiss her, to sleep in the same bed as her. He wonders how different it would be from sleeping next to Kyle when they have sleepovers. Kyle stirs a lot throughout the night, restless even as he sleeps. He tosses and turns, drags the blankets with him. Sometimes Stan would nudge him awake.

“Dude, you’re hogging all the blankets” he’d whisper.

Kyle, still half asleep, would move closer to Stan, drape the sheets over him. 

“Sorry. Sorry. Here” he’d mumble, and Stan would try so hard not to touch him, pull him closer, tell him it’s okay. 

He wonders about Wendy, imagines she’d lie perfectly still, sweet dreams swimming through her head and her hand constantly entwined with Stan’s. 

They talk over lunch breaks outside. Wendy leans against the school building, laughs at the things he says even when they’re not funny and twirls her hair around her finger. Stan wants to touch her hair, kiss her face when it flushes red from the cold. 

Kenny and Cartman tease him relentlessly. 

“Have you and Testaburger swapped spit yet?” Cartman asks when they’re all hanging out at Kenny’s house. Kenny snickers behind his hands and Stan turns red. 

“Don’t be gross about Wendy” he mumbles to Cartman, which of course doesn’t stop him. 

Kyle says nothing, stares off into the distance. 

-

Once they’re 14 years old, most boys in their grade have already kissed before. Clyde is with Bebe, Kenny swears he’s kissed almost every girl in their grade, which Stan doesn’t believe at all, and even Cartman has kissed Heidi. Stan’s been with Wendy for a while at this point, having asked her to be his girlfriend around half a year ago, but never got the courage to kiss her, ultimately too cowardly to make a move. He feels sick about it, his stomach turning with nerves every time he gets remotely close enough to actually do it. He thinks about it a lot, feels embarrassed that he harbors so much anxiety about it. It’s just that he wants it to be right, and he’s so afraid that he’s going to mess it up. 

On a winter afternoon, he’s over at Kyle’s house, lazing on his bed. They just got out of school and Kyle is getting started on his homework. Stan lies on his back and stares at Kyle’s ceiling. Kyle has a solar system lamp from when he was a kid, which Stan thinks is really sweet. He genuinely loves Kyle’s room, and all the little trinkets and reminders from their childhoods that remain within. 

Kyle turns around on his desk chair, throws down his pen and walks over to Stan. He falls down on the bed next to him. They look at the solar system lamp as if it’s the actual solar system, studying it with care. 

“Can I ask you something?” Kyle asks him then. 

Stan turns to look at him, but Kyle keeps looking at the ceiling. 

“Yeah” he nods, and Kyle swallows. 

“Have you ever kissed someone before?” 

Stan is taken aback for a moment, curious why Kyle would ask him. He briefly considers lying to him but then realizes that would ultimately backfire on him. He’s never been able to lie to Kyle very well. 

“No, have you?” he admits. 

Kyle shakes his head slowly. 

“No. I don’t think anyone wants to kiss me” he says, and he laughs. 

“That’s not true dude”

Kyle moves to sit up, hugging his knees. Stan does the same thing, sitting across from him, leaning against the wall. 

“How do you know?” Kyle asks. 

Stan shrugs. “Good point, I guess - but I’m sure it’s not true”

Kyle rolls his eyes. 

“At least you have Wendy”

“Yeah, I guess”

“You are still into her, right?”

Stan thinks about it for a moment. It’s been a while since he’d asked Wendy to be his girlfriend. It had been after school, at Stark’s pond, just early spring. The air was crisp and he’d draped his jacket over her shoulders. She’d looked just like a doll, eyes big and glassy. Stan thought she was beautiful, still did. 

“I mean - yeah, I am” he says. 

Kyle seems to think about this for a moment. He looks away, eyes focused on something on the other side of the room. 

“Would you wanna kiss her?” 

“Maybe? I don’t have any experience. It’s kinda scary”

“Well, you gotta get experience somehow”

“That’s true. But it’s gonna be super embarrassing if I kiss Wendy and I suck at it majorly” 

Stan feels himself blushing as they talk about this. Kyle kicks his feet at him. 

“Yeah true. Maybe she’ll never wanna kiss you again” he laughs. Stan kicks back at him. 

“Dude!” he exclaims. 

“I’m joking!”

They giggle, and then Stan is in his head again, thinking about how badly he doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Wendy. 

“I wish there was a way to practice on a girl without being an asshole” he says. 

Kyle shrugs. “There isn’t”

“No, that’s why I said I wish there was, dumbass”

“Just saying”

Stan fiddles with the sheets. 

“Anyway - is there any girl you wanna kiss?” he asks Kyle. 

“I told you, even if there was, I don’t think anyone’s gonna wanna kiss me” Kyle says. 

“You’re so full of shit!”

“Am not!”

Stan doesn’t understand how Kyle could think this genuinely. He’s pretty sure that he’s just being overdramatic. Kyle is great, and he must know that too. There’s no way he doesn’t. 

“You’re gonna have to kiss eventually. Like, in your life”

Kyle sits back on his hands. “Not necessarily”

Stan scoffs. “What, you’re just never gonna kiss?”

“Maybe”

“Stop lying dude. You’re gonna have to practice at some point”

Kyle says nothing for a moment. He won’t break eye contact and it’s slightly messing with Stan’s head. He’s never been good at eye contact, always feeling nervous because of it. 

“Maybe I’ll just be bad at kissing and proud of it” Kyle says then. 

“Nah, no girl’s gonna wanna kiss you” Stan pushes further. Kyle laughs again, seemingly baffled by the turn this conversation is taking. 

“Well, what the fuck does it matter? There’s not really any options to practice without being an asshole, right? We established that”

Stan doesn’t know what comes over him. He sits up straighter, closer to Kyle. 

“We could just-” he starts, feeling stupid. 

“What?” Kyle presses. 

“Well, you know”

“No, I don’t know Stan, enlighten me”

Stan takes a deep breath. “We could practice on each other”

Kyle blinks at him. “Dude” 

Immediately, Stan feels incredibly dumb and weird for even suggesting it. He’s scared that Kyle is going to take it the wrong way, assume things about Stan. He wants to crawl into himself, hide his face. He feels childish.  

“Never mind, I thought it was a good idea” he mumbles. Kyle sits up too, knees knocking into Stan’s. 

“No, it is, but it’s just kinda gay. We could never tell anyone” he says.

Stan feels something light up in his chest, but he can’t place it. 

“Yeah you’re right, no one can ever find out” 

“Well, okay. Fuck it”

He can’t really believe what’s happening, or that it’s all happening because of something that he suggested. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah dude, let’s just do it” 

“Okay” 

They both move at the same time, get closer to each other. They sit cross-legged. Stan looks at Kyle’s face for a moment, takes it all in. His eyelashes are so long. His expression is almost bordering on laughing, as if he finds the whole situation highly amusing. His cheeks are sunken in just a little, as of recently. He’d been sick for a while. Stan’s gaze lingers on Kyle’s lips for a little then, studying them before he intends to kiss him. They are so soft-looking. Stan is pretty sure Sheila makes Kyle put on chapstick like, every day. The way his face is relaxed right now, his teeth are showing slightly. His face has always been very fascinating to look at, though Stan would never admit that. 

“Are you gonna kiss me or stare at me Stan?” Kyle teases. Stan feels embarrassment bloom in his chest. 

“I’m just taking my time” he mumbles. Kyle’s mouth twists into a smile. 

“Uhuh” he nods. 

“Little shit” Stan says, and then he moves forward. 

His mouth catches onto Kyle’s, and the kiss starts off somewhat awkwardly. It’s chaste, and they move against each other rigidly. After a moment, they get the hang of it, and Stan opens his mouth a little more, testing on what’s appropriate in this situation. Then again - the entire situation is inappropriate. Still, he doesn’t want to take it too far. 

Kyle’s hands come up to the side of his face. His fingers are slender and cold. One of his hands moves to the back of Stan’s head, tangles in his hair. It feels amazing, more amazing than the kiss even, and Stan hums appreciatively. 

Kyle kisses him harder then, opening up more and biting down lightly on Stan’s bottom lip. Stan kisses him back, and it feels better now, more coordinated and fluid. Kyle’s lips are as soft as Stan expected, and the way he kisses is just like the way he talks; self-assured, even if he maybe doesn’t feel like it. It feels nice. Stan realizes he doesn’t want to stop, wants to hold Kyle by the waist, grab his jaw, bury his fingers in his hair. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t. 

He just pulls back. 

“Okay. I think we practiced enough” he mumbles, embarrassed and flush. He can’t look at Kyle directly. He wonders if Kyle would stop them, if he hadn’t. He wonders how Kyle would respond if he would kiss him again. 

“Yeah” Kyle agrees. Stan smooths out the fabric of his t-shirt, then gets up from the bed. 

“I’m gonna go home”

“Yeah, okay”

And they never talk about it. 

-

The following summer they all go camping, the four of them. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for the boys to go camping. In fact, it had become sort of a tradition to go up to the mountains each summer. Stan and Kyle always shared a tent, leaving Kenny with Cartman who hogged all the blankets and snored very loudly. Stan was infinitely glad for Kenny, more than he would probably ever know. This summer is the last one before they all start high school.

In the mountains, the sky is clear and the stars are bright. They’ve spent the day at the camping ground, looking for animals, playing games and eating junk food. That night in the tent next to Kyle, Stan feels inexplicably afraid, awake and claustrophobic. His brain is going a million miles an hour, mulling over every little thing that’s wrong in his life. He decides to crawl out for just a little while, careful not to wake Kyle. 

The sky feels so massive, looming over him. Stan sits on the rocky ground and hugs himself small. He doesn’t know how much time passes.

“Dude, why are you up?”

He gets pulled out of his thoughts by Kyle’s voice. He’s climbing out of the tent, goes to sit down next to Stan. 

“I didn’t think I was being noisy, sorry” Stan mumbles. 

“No, you weren’t, I’m just a light sleeper. You know that”

Of course Stan knows that. 

“Yeah, I know” 

They sit in silence for a while. 

“Sorry for waking you” Stan speaks up. 

“No, I don’t mind” Kyle shrugs. “The stars are pretty”

“They are” Stan agrees. 

He thinks about how he’s always going to wake Kyle somehow. He’s being metaphorical. Whatever. He feels shitty and doesn’t know how to stop feeling that way. 

“Are you okay?” Kyle asks him. 

“Yeah. I think. I don’t know” Stan shrugs, because he truly doesn’t know. Or, at least, he doesn’t know how to explain whatever he’s feeling to Kyle. 

“What’s going on?”

If there was a single problem that was bothering him, causing him to feel down, it would be so much easier. It wasn’t just the one thing, that was what was so fucked up about it. It was everything. He had been cycling through bouts of sadness for a while now. His parents were fighting on the regular, more now than ever, nearly every other night ending in a screaming match. His sister hates him. He and Wendy kiss and kiss and kiss and it makes him feel absolutely nothing. He hates himself for all the things he can’t do, that the things he does do aren’t good enough. 

“Nothing. I don’t know” he murmurs. 

Kyle turns to him. “Dude, you can talk to me. You know that right?”

“Yeah, I know Kyle”

But truly, he doesn’t know. Because he doesn’t know if Kyle will ever understand, even if he might try really hard. 

“Do you wanna go for a swim?” Stan asks, instead of attempting to explain his feelings further. The lake on the camping grounds is only a few minutes walking away. 

Kyle seems to contemplate this for a moment. 

“It’s gonna be cold” he says. Kyle had always been wary of situations that would make him feel cold or dirty or anything of the sorts. He hates germs, which Stan mostly teases him about. He punches his upper arm lightly. 

“Whatever dude. Let’s do it. I need to clear my head” he says as he gets up. 

Kyle gets up too, not needing that much convincing after all. 

They get to the lake and discard of their shirts. It’s different now that they’re older, undressing together. Stan never used to think twice about it. Now, he tries to restrain from staring overtly at Kyle’s bare upper body. Sometimes he can’t help it, blaming it on healthy curiosity, or hormones or whatever. He doesn’t per se think that men’s bodies are attractive. He likes girls, he knows this about himself. He does, however, like the shapes and curves of Kyle’s body. Every time he catches a glance, he has to tell himself off in his head, to stop being such a freak and get over whatever he’s feeling already. That is, if he’s feeling anything at all. He pushes it away, out of his brain.  

Stan jumps into the water without much hesitation. It’s cold, sure, but it’s nice and takes his mind off of things. The sky feels even more infinite just now, blurring into the lake, as if Stan could swim off right into outer space. 

Kyle gets in too, if a bit more tentatively. 

“Dude, it’s so fucking cold”

Stan splashes him. Kyle shakes his head like a dog.

“You are the worst” he says deadpan. Stan says nothing. 

Kyle swims up to him. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks again. 

Stan bites down on his lip hard. He wants to bawl his eyes out, but he doesn’t because he doesn’t want Kyle to think he’s that pathetic. 

“No” he murmurs, tight-lipped. Kyle nods.

Before Stan knows it, he feels hands snake around his middle under the water, soft and careful. Kyle hugs him from behind, rests his head between his shoulder blades. The water is still freezing but Kyle feels warm warm warm. 

Stan stares at the endless landscape stretched out before him, brash mountains and the hazy clouds of the early morning rolling in. 

He thinks that it all can’t be that bad, if he has Kyle. That as long as he has him next to him, pressed against him like he is now, everything could be okay. 

When Kyle lets go, they swim around until their fingers are frozen, and they huddle together in their sleeping bags and let the remainder of the night fall over them. Stan has a dreamless sleep, dark and empty. 

-

The following year, Kyle is over at his house to tutor him every Thursday. It’s what they’ve been doing since the start of high school, to ensure that they graduate at the same time. Kyle had brought it up, careful as if he was scared he’d somehow insult Stan’s intelligence by doing so. Stan was well aware that academics weren’t his strong suit, that he was better at certain creative pursuits, playing guitar, writing songs, doodling on the corner of his notebook even. He was also not too bad at playing sports, which he’d started doing at the beginning of the school year. He wasn’t the worst football player at all.

Now, Kyle sits next to him at his desk. His room is dim and outside, rainfall is ticking on the roof. Fall has been rainy this year, and Stan is almost turning 15. He still feels like a child, so much so that he wants to crawl up under the blankets, be held by his mom when it storms. It’s stupid and he knows that. Kyle makes him feel like a kid too, in a different way. 

Kyle explains a math problem in his easy tone, patient and faithful that Stan is going to get it. Stan always takes way too long, feeling slightly dumb. 

Downstairs, Sharon starts yelling at Randy. Stan can’t hear exactly what it’s about, he never can. They’re so loud yet still inaudible. He cringes. 

“I’m sorry about them” he apologizes, feeling embarrassed. It’s not like Kyle doesn’t know that his parents constantly fight - Stan complains about them all the time. He just doesn’t very often hear how bad it actually is. He puts the pen down, looks up from what he was writing. 

“It’s okay dude” he assures. Stan huffs, rubs his temples. 

“Fucking hell” he curses, totally thrown off. 

“Stan, it’s really okay”

Sharon and Randy are full-on screaming right now, there’s no denying or ignoring it. 

“No, it’s not” Stan says. 

Downstairs, the situation escalates and Stan can hear the sound of glass breaking and Randy punching the wall, or something like that. He flinches.  

“Oh fuck” he mumbles, sensing that this is going to end badly. He tries to breathe but finds that he can’t. Kyle’s hand claws around his wrist. 

“Dude, calm down. Do you want me to lock the door?” he asks. Stan can only nod. 

“Yes please”

Kyle gets up and does so, then walks back to him. 

“Alright, the door is locked. Are you alright?” he asks, grabbing Stan by the shoulders.  

“Yes. No, I don’t know. I’m sorry” Stan close-to-whimpers. Kyle strengthens his grip on him. 

“It’s fine. It’s gonna be okay” 

“I don’t know Kyle”

Stan, buries his face in his hands, presses the palms of them against his eyes. 

“Stan, just breathe in and out, okay? Just try to steady your breathing, it’s okay” Kyle murmurs. He sits down beside him again. 

“I’m sorry” Stan says between quick breaths. 

“Stop apologizing. Can I try something?”
“Yes” 

Kyle moves to hold both his hands, his fingers slender and bony, entwined with Stan’s calloused and cold ones. He rubs his thumb over the back of them. 

“I’m here” he says. 

Stan tries to focus on where they’re touching, on Kyle’s tight grip on him. Kyle tugs at his hands, kisses his knuckles, feathery light. Stan breathes in through his nose. 

“It’s gonna be fine” Kyle assures him again. 

Downstairs, the noise quiets down and the floorboards still. Stan’s breathing steadies after a while and Kyle keeps holding his hand even when it does, only letting go when they start on the homework again. 

They finish it, and Stan feels incredibly exhausted. Kyle sleeps over that night, even though it’s a weekday and Sheila really only wants them to have sleepovers in the weekend. Kyle argues with his mom about it briefly over the phone, voice all hushed and quiet, but ultimately manages to convince her.  

From that point on, whenever Stan has a panic attack, he pretends Kyle is holding his hand, kissing his knuckles, tracing his fingers, and whispering sweet, calming mantras to him. It helps more than it should, and he feels tainted with shame.

-

Throughout his early teenage years, Stan tries relatively hard to never get drunk. His dad gets drunk all the time, and he hates it. It’s something he doesn’t want to risk. Because what if he acts the same as his dad, and Kyle will hate him for it like Stan hates his dad for it? Like his mom hates his dad for it? 

Yet getting drunk happens more easily than anything else that he’s ever done. His first sip is beer, plastic red cup getting pushed in his hand by Clyde. The party is sweaty, and everyone is too young and too insecure and too stupid. They’re only 15, and Clyde’s dad lets them use their house to party freely in, what Stan imagines is, a desperate attempt to appeal to his only son. Their house is a mess. Stan thinks of his own family, how they might be fucked up but at least his house is clean, mostly, save for the stacked beer cans after a night of his dad’s drinking that he often catches a glimpse of when going to school in the morning, before his mom’s had any time to clean it up. He then thinks about how stupid it is, to relish in a clean house when the family that lives in it is so utterly filthy and disgusting from the inside, rotting, poisoning each other. 

The alcohol is stashed in the garage. Once Stan finishes his first can, he makes plenty of runs to get more. When he starts to feel a light, burning sensation in his chest, it’s like he can breathe again for the first time in a long, long time. Everything moves slower, and easier. He doesn’t have to think about it, and he feels like he’s floating when he crosses the room to get to Kyle. 

Kyle, as of recently in possession of a driver’s permit, is driving them home tonight, or rather, to Kyle’s house. Over the year, they’ve stopped going to Stan’s house almost entirely. Stan’s parents had started fighting while he was there a few too many times, and Stan felt a deep shame inside him because of it. He remembers so clearly, the look in Kyle’s face when he’d held his shaking hands. He knows Kyle doesn’t judge him or pity him, but that doesn’t matter. It still hurts him, and Stan can see that.

Going to Kyle’s house isn’t entirely painless either. It’s a reminder of everything he doesn’t have; parents who look at each other warmly, call Kyle loving pet names, who don’t scream at each other in the middle of the night. A dad who can have just one glass of wine and be fine with that, a mom who isn’t worn out by her marriage, her disappointing husband and children. But Kyle’s room is safe to Stan. 

Much to Stan’s contentment, they still haven’t given up on their weekly sleepovers. Tonight is no exception, though Sheila said that they’d have to be quiet if they came back late. 

Kyle stands against the wall, talking to Tolkien with vivid hand movements. Stan feels out of balance when he finally gets to him. His vision is blurred, but he feels light and happy. 

“Kyle dude” he says, and it sounds far away. 

Kyle’s eyes fall on him, and it feels like this it’s the first time that evening that anyone’s really looked at Stan. Stan mingles well with a crowd but hates how hard he has to try with everyone. It’s different with Kyle. Another added factor of stress is the fact that he’s recently broken up with Wendy, who watches him diligently everywhere he goes, as if she’s making a mental backlog of every interaction he has. It makes Stan nervous. He’d been okay with the breakup, even if he wasn’t the one who’d initiated it. Wendy had said that he was distant, not passionate enough, and that she wished he’d try harder for her. 

“Hey dude, are you good?” Kyle asks, voice rising above the music. Tolkien walks off, eyeing the two of them for just a moment, and then it’s just them, just them like it’s supposed to be.

Stan is too close, grabs onto Kyle’s arms. He can’t help himself, he just needs to feel something real.   

The music continues playing. Some shitty indie pop song is on, surely something Clyde picked out, thinking it was the greatest piece of music ever. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m good” Stan says, and he smiles loosely. 

Kyle studies his face, eyes moving up and down. Stan does the same to him. Sometimes he doesn’t recognize Kyle, they’ve both gotten so much older so fast. Kyle has grown into his features, sharp nose and cheekbones and soft, pointed eyes, long eyelashes. Stan could look at him forever.  

“Do you wanna go outside?” Kyle asks him, and his hand comes up to rest on Stan’s upper arm. He squeezes, once, fingers settling against Stan’s cold skin. 

He lets go, and Stan breathes in. 

“Maybe. Yeah, maybe”

“You’re drunk, right?” Kyle smiles. 

“A little bit” Stan admits. His head is spinning. 

“How did that happen?” 

“It- it just did” he laughs. 

“Can you even walk straight?” Kyle asks, sounding amused. They make their way outside, to Clyde’s backyard. 

“Yeah, yeah no I can” 

“Dude, you totally can’t”

Kyle is right, Stan is struggling to keep himself up. He feels like he’s somewhere far away. He feels great. 

“Psst, and you can?” he slurs. Kyle laughs again, and Stan is convinced it’s the most wonderful sound in the world. 

“Yeah, I can walk fine. Haven’t had a drop of alcohol”

“Oh, big-ups on that Kyle”

“You should be happy about that dude, we don’t wanna die in a car crash later”

“Speak for yourself”

Kyle says nothing at that. They’re outside now. 

“It was a joke” Stan assures him. 

“Uhuh” 

He feels dizzy then, wanting to rest. Standing up makes him feel weird, out of it. 

“Can we sit?” he asks. 

“Yeah, we can sit” Kyle says. 

They sit in the grass, which is slightly wet from the dew. Stan lets his head roll and lean on Kyle’s shoulder.  

“You’re not gonna be sick on me right?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that to you. I know how freaky you get about germs”

“I think any normal person wouldn’t wanna get puked on”

“You’d be surprised”

“What?”

Stan giggles.

“I don’t know”

“Weirdo”

“‘M not weird”

“Sure”

Kyle grabs his hand, squeezes once, then lets go. Stan wishes he wouldn’t. 

“Mind if I smoke?” Kyle murmurs, voice soft. Stan shakes his head against his shoulder. Kyle had picked up smoking before Stan had ever picked up drinking. 

Kyle lights his cigarette, blows smoke into the sky, away from Stan. They sit for what feels like hours, and Stan feels light and happy. 

-

Fall passes with winter, and Stan has spent a considerable amount of time talking to Wendy and her friends over their lunch breaks. It started with her coming up to him, stealing him away from his friends, Cartman, Kenny, away from Kyle. He’d follow because he’s spineless and pathetic, afraid to be alone. It’s not that he misses Wendy per se. He does miss her in some ways, misses playing with her hair and feeling her in his arms, small and curvy and perfect in every way. But he doesn’t miss the way he felt around her, inferior, fake, like he’s playing a part. Wendy fits into the image that everyone has of him, football player, sociable, sweet and cool Stan Marsh. His parents surely expect him to marry a girl like Wendy, when he grows up. He’s sure of it. So it’s easy when she drags him away by his bicep, giggling into his chest. They talk about nothing, and Wendy kisses him on his cheek at the end of every break, causing Cartman and Clyde to clap him on the back in a congratulatory manner that Stan hates. 

When school’s out that Tuesday, Stan goes home and cleans the kitchen as his mom had asked him to do. His parents are going through one of their separations at the moment, this being the second one in the past year. The last one ended in a relatively anticlimactic manner; Randy came home with his head hanging low, muttering apologies. Sharon would break - stupidly. Stan would curse his mom in his head for being so weak, but then he’d forgive her almost immediately. He knew what it was like to be so powerless to someone, though the comparison in his head made him cringe. He isn’t sure how long his parents’ current separation is going to last, but he’s sure that it won’t be forever, even though he wishes it would. 

When Stan is done with the dishes, he goes up to his room. He tries to do some homework but finds that he can’t focus, thinking about Wendy. 

He figures that he should probably get back together with Wendy. He’s never felt attracted to another girl besides her, finding most of the girls in his grade uninteresting. He worries about his future quite a lot, and having the relationship aspect down, secure and safe, would surely relieve him of some of his stress. It doesn’t really matter if he’s not completely and utterly in love with her. He’s never really felt that for anyone, is starting to think he might be incapable of it. Maybe his parents messed him up for life. 

Stan jumps up from his desk chair, unable to focus, and puts on his jacket. He runs down the stairs and out of the house, setting course towards Kyle’s house. 

Kyle opens the front door looking like he just woke up from a nap, hair all messed up and floppy. His hair has grown quite a lot, but it’s less frizzy than it used to be. It looks so soft all the time, and Stan often needs to refrain from touching it. 

“Dude, I need to talk to you”  Stan says, as he walks through the door and up the stairs. Kyle follows him up. They enter his room, and Stan falls on the bed. Kyle sits on the floor in front of him. 

“What’s up? Are you good?” he asks, as he crosses his legs. 

“Yeah, it’s just - it’s about Wendy” Stan sighs. 

Kyle blinks. 

“Oh. Okay. What is it about? I thought you were broken up”

Stan thinks that Kyle must know that he and Wendy were trying again. He’d watched him get dragged off for the past month during lunch breaks. Stan knows it for sure because Kyle’s eyes would follow him, cold and painfully locked with his. 

“I’m gonna ask her to get back together again” Stan says. Saying it out loud feels final, definitive. 

“What?”

“Yeah, I mean. We’ve hung out again a couple of times over the last month, and it’s going well, and I think she feels the same way. I think we can try again”

Kyle bites down on his bottom lip, shoots a brief smile but it seems fabricated, and it falls as quickly as it comes. 

“Right, okay. That’s good for you dude” he says. He’s not looking at Stan. 

“Yeah, well” Stan shrugs. 

They’re quiet for a minute, then-

“So what do you need me for?”

Kyle’s voice sounds cold, like it does when he’s annoyed with his mom or with Cartman. Stan shivers. 

“Dude, it’s not like I need you for something, I also just wanna hangout” he says. Truly, he hadn’t thought about it much before coming over. Sometimes it felt like instinct to go and see Kyle, to talk to him whenever he was worrying. He feels really stupid, suddenly. 

“Okay, yeah. Sure. But you were gonna ask for help with the Wendy thing, right?” Kyle says. He’s still not looking at Stan, and it’s driving him crazy. 

“Why are you being pissy?”

“I’m not being pissy Stan, I’m just being straight up” 

“No, you’re acting weird”

Kyle hugs his knees, then looks at him. 

“It’s just - like you ask me to come over and then immediately start about Wendy. Like - don’t you wanna know how I’m doing?”

He sounds so vulnerable when he says this, like he’s confessing something as he speaks and Stan doesn’t know what to say. He wants this tension between them to go away, wants to just joke around with his best friend again. 

“Dude, you sound like a chick” he says. Kyle’s hands claw onto the fabric of his jeans.  

“Never fucking mind Stan” he mutters, and he gets up, starts to rearrange some things on his desk. Stan doesn’t know what to say to satisfy him, bring back sweet Kyle. He feels like everything he does is wrong. 

“Maybe you should go, I was kinda in the middle of doing stuff” 

But Stan knows that’s not true, because he’s so sure that Kyle was napping before he came over. He gets up anyway. 

“Yeah, okay, whatever. See you tomorrow” he murmurs, walking out of the door and leaving Kyle behind. 

Later Kyle texts him. 

Sorry, I'm just stressed. Mom putting a lot of pressure on me with exams coming up and stuff. You know how it is

its ok dude sorry for only talking about wendy. i dont mean to be a dick

You’re not

And that should have been the end of it. But over the months, Stan starts to notice the way Kyle reacts when he talks about Wendy after he’s gotten back together with her. He’s pretty sure Kyle doesn’t like Wendy, though he’s never overtly said so. Maybe he thinks they’re not good for each other. Maybe they aren’t. They don’t fight an extreme amount, but they’re not exactly a problemless couple. Wendy thinks Stan doesn’t have enough ambitions, doesn’t understand him when he’s feeling depressed and like the only thing he wants to do is lie in bed and sink into his sheets. Stan has never told her about his panic attacks, and they rarely ever hang out at his house, so she doesn’t know the full extent of his parents’ situation. Stan thinks Wendy nags him and verges on controlling him at times. Sometimes they argue for hours, and Stan thinks those might be the longest and deepest conversations they’ve ever had, ever will have. Maybe Kyle can see that they’re not good for each other. Maybe that’s why he averts his eyes when they kiss, drums his fingers on the table when Stan mentions Wendy over lunch break, reacts in a way that is short and irritated when Stan talks about her for a bit too long to him. 

-

Once summer comes around, the parties thrown by Clyde and Tolkien increase. They’re all happy to be done with their first year of high school, and Clyde’s careless dad as well as Tolkien’s affluent family seem more than happy to lent their house as venues for sweaty high school parties. 

Tonight, they’re at Tolkien’s house. They’re a few hours into the party, and Stan’s outside with Wendy, against the wall of Tolkien’s garden shed. They’re kissing and everything is hot and suffocating. Stan’s clothes feel sticky, and Wendy pushes into his chest with her slender hands. The garden is a hotspot for people making out, and Stan spotted Kenny earlier when he first went outside. Wendy kisses him for what feels like an eternity. Stan is too drunk for this, and he knows that he’s not kissing back with as much passion as Wendy is kissing him. He feels far away, like he’s outside his own body, somewhere else. He’s had a lot of beer, and his hands tingle with it. 

Someone slams into the wall next to him, and from the corner of Stan’s eye he sees a flash of red hair. He looks over, Wendy still kissing him, holding his face in her grip. 

It’s Kyle, and he’s kissing someone Stan doesn’t know. A figure. A guy. Kyle is kissing a guy. 

Stan feels glued to the ground. He can’t take his eyes off of Kyle, kissing this guy that Stan has never seen before. They’re kissing with fervor, hands moving and grabbing and Kyle is being pushed against the shed just as Stan is by Wendy. The guy’s fingers tangle in Kyle’s hair, grab his jaw and his waist. Kyle leans into the touch. Stan wants to break away from Wendy, push the guy away from Kyle and tell him off for touching him when he has no right to. Who does this guy think he is? Why is Kyle kissing him?

Wendy pulls back only slightly.

“Stan” she whispers. 

“Hmm” Stan hums, looking back at her. He grabs her by the sides of her face, kisses her deeply. She responds well, licks into his mouth, claws at his chest. Stan’s eyes fall on Kyle again. When he looks, he finds that Kyle is looking at him too. For a few seconds, they hold each other’s gaze, before both looking away. Stan pulls back from Wendy, panting. 

“I feel a bit sick” he says. 

“Stan-”

“You should probably go inside. I’m gonna throw up, I think”

Wendy doesn’t see Kyle, is too out of it to. Her lips are kissed swollen, and she looks relatively happy about it. She doesn’t offer to care for Stan as he gets sick, too bored with his drunken antics. Stan thinks it’s fair. He gets drunk nearly every weekend now. 

“I’ll see you in a bit then” Wendy says, pressing one more kiss to Stan’s mouth, the side of it.

As Wendy walks inside, Kyle pulls back from the guy he’s kissing. 

“I’m gonna smoke a cigarette” he states. The guy cocks an eyebrow at him. 

“Okay? Just - now?” he questions. Kyle nods. 

“Yeah. I’ll catch up with you later. I wanna smoke alone”

The guy steps backwards, eyes Stan and Kyle with a suspicious look. 

“Do you guys know each other or something? Like, do you guys need a moment together, is that why you’re blowing me off?” he asks. He’s not an ugly guy, about as tall as Stan, with dark hair too. 

“None of your business, I’ll see you inside” Kyle says dryly. The guy rolls his eyes. 

“Whatever” he says before walking off. 

Kyle turns to Stan, still leaning against the garden shed. 

“Hey” he says. 

He doesn’t look drunk, most likely isn’t, but he looks wrecked in a different way. His lips are purple from kissing, his hair all messed up. Stan can’t stop looking, is too drunk to have any inhibitions for staring. 

“What the hell is going on dude?” he asks, remembering. 

“What?” 

“You couldn’t have told me?”

Kyle laughs, short and sharp. 

“Kenny makes out with random people all the time, but I need to get clearance from you?” he says indignantly. 

“That’s not it, you know that. You’re kissing a dude!” Stan exclaims. 

It’s not that it matters, it’s just that they used to tell each other everything. 

“He’s only the second guy I’ve kissed” Kyle says, crossing his arms. Stan feels himself getting more annoyed by the minute. 

“Dude - you can talk to me, you know that right? Like, you could have told me”

“I wouldn’t know what to say!”

Stan wishes he brought a drink outside so that he had something to do while having this stupid conversation. He feels so nervous, fiddles with his hands. 

“Are you gay?” he asks. Kyle shrugs, rubs the bridge of his nose. 

“I don’t know dude”

Stan takes this in for a moment. Kyle might be gay. He never thought about it before, but it does make sense to him. Kyle’s never had a girlfriend, never really expressed interest in girls before. Stan wonders offhandedly how good Kyle is at kissing nowadays, if he improved a lot since that time they had kissed. When he was looking before, Kyle seemed to be a pretty generous kisser, all tongue and hands. He pushes the thought away. 

“You could’ve talked to me. I mean- I’m your best friend” he says. Kyle sighs. 

“I was worried I’d freak you out”

“Why? I don’t care about that stuff, you know that” 

Suddenly he feels impossibly guilty, like maybe he didn’t create the impression for Kyle that it was okay to talk to him about his sexuality. He wants to apologize profusely but doesn’t, and the words get stuck in his throat. 

“I didn’t want you to think it was because of you” Kyle admits. Stan breathes in. 

“It doesn’t even work like that dude, I wouldn’t think that” 

“I should have told you, I’m sorry”

“No, it’s- it’s fine”

“Okay”

They stand in silence for a little bit, looking at the floor. Stan wonders if he should hug Kyle. 

“Who is that guy anyway?” he asks instead. 

“Some guy from North Park. I don’t know him” Kyle answers. 

“He looks like a jerk”

He didn’t really. He looked okay, decent. Stan just feels stupid and annoyed. 

“You’re just being a dick for no reason” Kyle says. 

“I just want my best friend to have some standards. I mean - the way he was grabbing you, he obviously doesn’t respect you” 

Kyle scoffs. “And why were you looking?”

“God, fuck off Kyle, I’m just trying to help you”

Stan buries his face in his hands, tries to calm himself down. His thoughts are racing, and he feels too drunk to be having this particular conversation. 

“You’re drunk. I’m just pointing out that it’s kinda weird, I mean, Wendy’s all up on your dick, and you’re otherwise occupied” Kyle mumbles. He sounds annoyed too. 

“Don’t say that. Don’t say that”

“Okay. Whatever. For the record, I don’t respect that guy either. I just wanna make out with someone”

Stan feels infinitely worse knowing that Kyle’s just settling for casual making-out. He wants to scream. 

“God. Is that how you like it?” he asks, looking up and catching Kyle’s eyes. 

“Not everyone can be part of some great high school romance Stan. We don’t all have a Wendy” Kyle says, looking back in an accusing way. Stan feels like throwing up for real now. 

“Can you stop talking about Wendy?”

“Why?”
“I- I don’t know. I feel sick, actually, now”

“Do you need to throw up?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Fuck, Kyle”

He sits down in the grass with his back against the garden shed with no intentions of actually throwing up. He just curls in on himself. 

Kyle sits down next to him, probably catching on to the fact that Stan is not actually going to get sick. 

He sighs. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Stan” 

He sounds tired. He must be, tired of Stan being so emotional all the time. Stan is sick of it too, sick of himself and all the things that he can’t change, can’t control. 

“I just- I think you deserve better Kyle. I really think so” he murmurs, the sound of his voice muffled, his face against his knees. Kyle hears him through it. 

“I know you do” he says. 

“I really do” Stan affirms. He hopes Kyle believes him, knows that he means it. What he doesn’t say is that he will probably never think anyone is good enough for Kyle. 

They don’t speak for a long while, and Kyle starts rubbing Stan’s back after some time. Stan wants to melt into his touch, become one with Kyle, so that he never has to give him away to someone. He tries to erase the image of Kyle making out with the guy from North Park from his mind, tries to rid himself of it, but it plays over and over in his brain like a never-ending film, even long after the party and the summer are over. 

-

Fall comes and Stan turns 16. He still sleeps over at Kyle’s house every week. They’ve rarely ever missed these weekly occurrences, never thought to stop. Everyone teases them about it, obviously. Cartman in particularly loves making comments about how gay they are together. Stan has gotten good at not letting Cartman’s insults get to him over the years, but it’s always particularly bothered him when he jokes about him and Kyle together. He can’t ignore it as easily. Especially now that he knows Kyle is actually gay. Or, likes boys, at least. It’s a sunny Saturday morning in October and the sun cracks through Kyle’s curtains. Stan blinks awake only to find Kyle already up, looking at him through his eyelashes as he rests on his side. 

“Good morning” he says, not sounding particularly embarrassed. 

Stan smiles, only slightly confused. Something in Kyle’s eyes is sweet and defiant - like he’s been watching him sleep for so long but he’s proud of it, owning up to it, like it’s his good right to. Stan doesn’t bring it up, not even to tease him, even if he desperately wants to ask him what it means. 

“Morning” he whispers back.

Kyle curls in on himself then, averts his eyes. The sun falls on the side of his face, his hair golden red in the light, splayed on the pillow. Stan feels contentment in his chest, always does with Kyle. He thinks of Wendy, how she looks in bed on the rare occasions that he sleeps at her house. Her hair is longer, and it gets tangled and tickles Stan’s face in his sleep. Stan feels the overwhelming urge to grab Kyle by his jaw, kiss him again like he did that one time, already a few years ago now. He forgot how Kyle tastes, and he thinks way too often about how easy it would be to just pull him in, kiss him again. He ignores it, instead turns around and faces away from Kyle. 

Kyle’s hands come up around him, pressing in on his chest. They’ve always been physically affectionate with each other but Stan wants to flinch now, suddenly wary of Kyle’s closeness. He doesn’t trust himself not to do something that he’s not supposed to. Kyle rests his face between his shoulder blades, fitting perfectly. The morning drifts by, and many more mornings do. 

-

Sophomore year is a blur with Stan slaving away at his homework, trying desperately to pass all his classes. The idea of getting to escape South Park with Kyle, go to college together, is a good source of motivation, and Kyle getting to tutor him is awesome too. But it’s hard, and Stan pulls a lot of all-nighters. Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he goes over to Kenny’s house and drinks with him, sitting on the porch and watching the sky. 

Sometimes he drives. He recently got his license. Kyle and him like to visit the diners by the highway that goes up to Denver, sit in until the late night hours and order only disgusting black coffee and waffles. 

His parents are still together, even after five separations at this point. Stan prays sometimes, that they’ll get divorced, or that his mom packs them up in the car and drives them away from town in the middle of the night, or that his mom kills his dad with a wine bottle, or better yet, that Stan kills him. Stan’s gotten into the habit of climbing under his bed every time his parents fight. When he’s having a panic attack, the pure darkness and the frame of his bed calm him down, and it almost feels like he’s in a coffin. He can pretend like he’s sinking into the floor. He imagines Kyle is with him, holding his hand still. 

The year is also filled with parties, especially as it rounds out and their grade is approaching junior year. On plenty of occasions, Stan has stumbled upon Kyle making out with random guys that he doesn’t know from other schools that come to Tolkien and Clyde’s parties for free booze. Stan immediately assumes they’re all douchebags, not completely sure why. It’s not like he’s judging Kyle. It’s fine to make out with people, and Kyle is not his property, just his best friend. Besides, he has Wendy. He and Wendy make out plenty. 

It’s a dry afternoon at the beginning of summer and Stan and Kyle are in the car to get iced coffee. Stan had come over to Kyle’s house with no intention of doing anything interesting but laze around his house all day. Ever since he got his license, Kyle loved to make him drive around though, and Stan is fine with that. Kyle doesn’t very much like driving, gets fussy about parking and other cars changing lanes too slowly. Stan is a pretty calm driver. The road is empty, and Stan is setting out for the Dunkin’ on the side of the highway. 

“Who was that guy you were with on Saturday?” he asks Kyle. Saturday was Clyde’s birthday party, a particularly huge party where Stan mostly didn’t know anyone. 

“I don’t know, he’s from out of town” Kyle mumbles. He’s got his sneakers up on the dashboard, which Stan doesn’t mind. The radio plays a sweet guitar song that he vaguely recognizes. 

Kyle’s guys are always from out of town. 

“Dude, you’re kind of a whore” Stan jokes. He turns up the radio to listen to the song better. Kyle rolls down the window, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. 

“Not everyone can have a steady relationship for like, 8 years” he mumbles, as he puts a cigarette between his lips. He lights it, and smokes out the window. 

“Shut up” Stan says, but he thinks Kyle doesn’t hear him over the noise. He turns the radio down again. 

Kyle smokes and Stan says nothing for a while.

“He looked kinda old” he speaks up, after Kyle’s thrown away the cigarette and rolled the window back up

“He was like, in his 20s. I think he goes to college actually” Kyle shrugs, like it’s normal. Stan cringes. 

“That’s creepy” he remarks. 

“I’m mature for my age anyway”

“I don’t care, he’s a creep”

Kyle shrugs again, rolls his head back against the headrest. 

“We’re just kissing” he says, and he looks over at Stan. 

Stan catches his eye. “How many guys have you kissed?” he asks. 

Kyle seems to think about it for a moment, looking away again. 

“I don’t know the exact number. Like 6?”

“Hmm”

The radio plays another song now, something quicker.
“Are you judging me?” Kyle asks. 

“No” Stan answers. Maybe he is, but only slightly. Only because he knows Kyle could do better, is the best person he knows, deserves someone who can see that too and doesn’t just use him. 

“I think it’s 5, but 6 including you. I guess that practice paid off, right?” Kyle laughs. Stan stares at the road hard. 

“Right”

They drive in silence for a while. 

“Sorry I don’t know why I brought it up” Kyle says then and Stan waves it off. 

“No, it’s fine”

They drive until they finally get to the Dunkin’, after what feels like hours. Stan parks the car and they sit frozen in their seats. 

Kyle fiddles with his hands. “Can we go in?” he asks. 

Stan clears his throat, stuck on Kyle bringing up their kiss. He can’t stop thinking about it, how he is one of the guys Kyle has kissed, how he was the first one, the first guy and the first person Kyle has ever kissed, and how Kyle was for him. He thinks about how special that is, feels proud and ashamed at the same time. 

“Those guys you’ve kissed, are they better kissers than me?” he asks. He knows it sounds childish the second it leaves his mouth, but he doesn’t care. 

“Hah! Definitely” Kyle laughs. 

“Rude, dude”

“You were asking for it”

“Still, uncalled-for”

Kyle smiles again, beaming, then stares ahead, avoiding Stan’s gaze. 

“It’s different” he says, more serious now. 

“You don’t have to actually answer” Stan backtracks. 

“Sorry yeah, it’s just different. We were practicing, weren’t we? I can’t expect you to have been very good back then”

Stan knows he wasn’t good back then, knows he’s better now. Wendy’s told him a couple of times that she likes the way he kisses. Stan thinks it would probably be weird to tell Kyle that. 

“Yeah” he just says, and then - “Do you ever think about it?”

Kyle doesn’t say anything for a while, and maybe that’s already enough of an answer. He looks to be mulling it over, deciding on the right response. 

“I do” he says, eventually, like a confession. 

“Me too” Stan admits. 

Kyle smiles to himself, small and secretive. Stan wonders what he’s thinking. 

“Have you ever told Wendy?” he asks, feet pulled up on the seat now, off of the dashboard. 

“No” Stan admits. He’d never thought it was necessary to tell Wendy. It would probably make her paranoid, if she knew. 

“Hmm” Kyle hums. 

Stan feels hot inside the car. Talking about the kiss after years of ignoring it ever happened made him sweat all over.

“Kyle?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t kiss creepy guys. You deserve better”

Stan would much rather tell Kyle not to kiss anyone, but that would be unreasonable and totally irrational. 

“You’ve said this before” Kyle says and he sighs. 

“Yeah. Because I really think so” Stan shrugs. 

Kyle rolls his eyes. “So, what’s better? What do I deserve? Something like you and Wendy? Who would I even have that with?”

Stan feels his chest burn with Kyle mentioning Wendy again. He always does so, and it always manages to aggravate Stan in the way he’s sure Kyle intends for it to. 

“Kyle, stop” he says, annoyed. 

“I just wanna know. Because you keep telling me, I’m just wondering what you’re envisioning for me. Or who, for that matter” 

Stan wants to scream at him, yell at him because, isn’t it obvious? He feels like a stupid freak, and says nothing of the sorts. He unbuckles his seat belt, takes his keys out of the ignition. 

“Let’s get coffee. I don’t wanna talk about this anymore” he says through his teeth, and he opens the car door, steps out. 

“Okay, whatever” Kyle murmurs, unbuckling his seatbelt. 

“Let’s go” he says, outside. And they do. 

Stan had played it over in his head countless times, the moment he’d bring up the kiss to Kyle, the moment they’d finally talk about it. He was hopeful, maybe. It was nothing like what just transpired, and he’s positive that they’ll never talk about it again. Maybe that’s for the better; never talking about it hasn’t really hurt them so far. 

-

After the first block of junior year, Kyle goes on a trip to San Francisco to visit some of his dad’s friends over the weekend. 

Tolkien throws a Halloween party, and Stan goes even though he knows it’s going to be extremely boring without Kyle. He stands against the wall in the living room and listens to Kenny sweet-talk Red and Clyde talk nice to Bebe and he realizes that parties are pointless excuses for horny people to pass the time, waiting out the night until they can finally fuck.

Stan has always been too much of a coward to tell Kyle that he’s never fucked Wendy, been too scared of it, been saving it because it never felt as right as he wanted it to. Wendy didn’t pressure him, never has, but she did often make a move on him, careful and sweet; as if she was afraid Stan would crumble right under her touch. It was a funny idea, Stan, lean, hard muscles from weekly football practice, taller than Wendy by nearly a foot, so fragile under her slender hands. He felt so small, so stupid, every time he pushed her away. Wendy didn’t show outward disappointment, never did, but he knew she was disappointed. At age 17 and after having been together for almost 4 years, it was expected of them to have had sex already. Of course no one knew that they hadn’t yet. 

At the party that night, Stan finds himself in the same situation as everyone else, as Wendy stands across from him, twirling her hair and resting her hand on his chest, his waist, his bicep. He’s drunk, as is expected, and Wendy gets him alone in a room before long, one of Tolkien’s empty guest rooms. They kiss and they kiss and Wendy tastes sweet, of sugary mixed drinks. Everything is all good and well until her hands start wandering, and Stan starts to sweat profusely under his shirt. 

“Wendy, I -” he starts pulling away, moving backwards. 

Wendy drops her hands. 

“I’m sorry” she whispers, and she keeps kissing him. Her hands stay at her side, fingers knotted in the sheets of the bed. 

Stan feels sick, sick of himself, sick of drinking, sick of everything and the way he has to work so hard to get by without Kyle. It shouldn’t be this hard. 

“I think I need to go home” he says, pulling back again. Wendy nods. She doesn’t ask him if he’s okay. They never talk about those things, just leave each other to crash and burn when things go south. 

“Okay. Okay Stanley” Wendy nods. 

Stan gets up, leaves her there, alone and unsatisfied, probably. Disappointed too, most likely. Stan isn’t sure how he’s managed to do that; disappoint everyone around him. It must be some sort of talent at this point. 

He walks through the crowd, ignoring shouts from Clyde and Kenny, who are trying to get him to play beer pong with them. His vision is blurring at the edges. He holds his liquor well, always has, always does. It must be in his genes. At most, his drunkenness makes him feel like he’s floating. 

His life feels like a play, and this is the moment that he’s exiting the stage, wiping off his stage makeup. He wants to go home, tired of performing. He wants to be with Kyle, wrap himself around him and never let go. He misses him so much, thinks about him dressing up for Halloween with Ike, and it hits Stan as he’s starting off the walk towards his house in the dark night. He shivers in his varsity jacket, not drunk enough to not feel the cold, yet drunk enough to cry, stupidly. He hates himself, squeezes his eyes shut, wipes away his tears. He’s 17, and he’s crying because he misses his best friend. He definitely doesn’t fail to register how pathetic that is. 

He feels like he’s in a different world as he walks home, somewhere far away. He doesn’t remember getting to his house, but he struggles with the key at the front door. Once he manages to get in, he takes in his surroundings only to realize he accidentally went to Kyle’s house. He’s had a key on his keychain since he was 15 years old. Kyle had gone and got it copied in the mall, without Sheila ever finding out. Stan laughs out loud, so perplexed by his own neediness and desperation that it’s funny to him. He’s drunk and wants to fall asleep under the warmth of Kyle’s linen covers. 

He sits down in the middle of the living room floor, knees up to his chest, and he takes out his phone, dials. Three rings until Kyle picks up. 

“Stan, are you okay?”

God, Stan loves the sound of his voice. It sounds like honey to him, and he wants to bite it right out of his mouth. He feels stupid, stupid, stupid. 

“Hey, yeah. I just got back from Tolkien’s”

“Party?”

“Yeah. Kyle- it was the worst”

“What happened?”

“Nothing - nothing serious” he tries to compose himself, to get to the point of telling Kyle the embarrassing truth, that he’s in his house and doesn’t want to leave.

“Are you drunk?”

Kyle probably knows the answer to that. Stan is sure of it. 

“Yeah and I’m- God, I’m so tired, Kyle. And I miss you” he speaks, too exhausted to have any inhibitions. 

“I miss you too dude”

“What did you do today?”

“Just - don’t worry about that right now. Are you okay, for real? You don’t sound like you’re doing too well”

“I’m in your house” Stan whimpers. He can’t control himself anymore, can’t force himself to sound like everything’s fine, gives into his desperation. 

“Stan - you’re in my house? I don’t understand?”

“I’m sorry dude. I don’t know, I was just walking home, and then I ended up here”

On the other end of the line, Kyle seems to realize something. Stan wishes so hard that he knew what that was, but Kyle starts talking to him in this soft, hushed voice that he didn’t have before.

“Stan, it’s alright. You don’t have to say sorry. Just go to sleep. You need to turn the heat up a little, my mom turned it all the way down before me left. The thermostat is next to the door, you know that right?” 

“Yeah. Okay” Stan mumbles. He only now realizes how cold he is. He shivers with it. 

“Did you turn it up?”

Stan did, and he lets himself revel in the fact that Kyle checks with him, cares for him, wants him to be warm and safe. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I turned it up”

“Go to my room. You can sleep in my bed”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah. I’m sure. You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“I’m so tired”

“I know. It’s okay. Go to bed, alright?”

Stan drags himself up the stairs, feeling like his limbs are made of brick. He opens the door to Kyle’s room and feels contentment settle in his chest when he’s greeted with the familiar environment. He shakes off his jeans, throws his jacket on Kyle’s desk chair and pulls his shirt over his head. He keeps some clothes at Kyle’s house, sleeping clothes mostly, and he picks one of the oversized t-shirts that he likes to wear to bed. He falls down on the bed, gets under the covers. The overwhelming scent of Kyle hits him, so sweet with a bite of something sharp, like smokey orange peels. 

“I’m in your bed. Smells like you” he mumbles. He feels like he could sink into the sheets. 

“Yeah?” Kyle sounds static from the other end of the line. 

“Yeah. I miss you so much Kyle”

“I know Stan. I miss you too”

Stan blinks away his stupid tears, attempts to smile instead, and closes his eyes. 

“Haven’t even talked to you. Haven’t even asked you about your trip. ’M such an asshole” he muses. 

“No, you’re not” Kyle responds immediately. Stan rolls his head on the pillow, presses his nose in the fabric of it. 

“Can you tell me?” he murmurs into the phone. 

“Yeah, yeah Stan. Is it gonna help you sleep, if I do?” Kyle asks. 

“I think so. It helps to think about - Yeah, just - tell me, please” Stan trails off.

“Helps to think about what?”

“Think about you. Pretend you’re here. Fuck, that’s fucking stupid, God. I’m sorry, I’m so tired”

He wants to sleep forever, drift away in this warmth. 

“It’s not stupid. You can pretend. It’s okay. Close your eyes, okay? Just listen to my voice. I’ll talk to you until you fall asleep” Kyle tells him. 

“Kay” Stan agrees. 

And he does fall asleep, quicker than he expected, into a deep, deep slumber in which all he dreams about is Kyle, Kyle, Kyle. 

He scurries home in the morning, after making Kyle’s bed and turning down the heat once more. He feels like he confessed something last night, even though he never did. 

His mom doesn’t scold him much, never does.

“How was the party?” she asks, not very worried about where he slept that night. Stan doesn’t blame her. She looks tired. His dad must be out somewhere. He doesn’t care to ask.

“It was good” Stan lies, and he goes up to his room. He picks up his phone and shoots a text to Kyle. 

thnx for letting me sleep in your bed. feeling kinda dumb about it now. i think i was just rly tired xD

He sits for a moment, then types out a message to Wendy as well. 

sorry for last night, wanna meet at stark’s pond later?

He throws his phone down on the carpet and curls up on his bed. He’s a liar and he knows it. He doesn’t love Wendy anymore, at least not in the way that he’s supposed to. He feels disgusted with himself. 

After some 10 minutes, he picks up his phone and checks it. He has a text from Kyle. 

Don’t worry about it dude. Gonna go up to Alcatraz today. Dad is like, super excited

Stan smiles to himself, immediately starts typing. 

don’t let them lock you up!!!! 

He imagines Kyle reluctantly indulging in his dad’s day trips. 

xD I’ll try, GTG. Home tomorrow, excited to see you :D

Stan feels his heart beat in his throat 

me too dude

He throws away his phone once more. Sometimes he wonders if he’s just like his dad. He despises the idea, but knows that it’s not very unlikely at all that he’ll turn out exactly like him. He sure as hell has as much self-hatred as his dad seems to harbor. He wonders if one day he’s gonna taint everyone around him too, Wendy, Kyle, all his friends and possibly his future children. He feels irrationally angry at the fact that his dad never informed him once about how hard everything was, and how exhausting it was to deal with it all. He picks up his phone again. A text from Wendy;

sure stanley, let’s do that

Stan feels poisonous to the root. 

-

At the beginning of junior year, Kyle had started debate club. He’d made captain in early January. Stan had taken him out for dinner to celebrate, down by the highway like they did so often. He’d paid for everything and Kyle had smiled the whole time, making it more than worth it when he ordered way too much food. 

Every Tuesday, Kyle attends debate practice in one of the clubrooms for an hour. Every other week, the team attends competitions on Sundays. Stan always goes. 

Today, Stan sits in on his practice, because they’re planning to hang out with Cartman and Kenny afterwards. He gave Kyle a ride to school this morning, so he’s waiting out the practice in the corner of the room. He never watches Kyle practice. People sitting in is not really the standard and the other members of Kyle’s team had complained excessively when Stan came in trailing behind Kyle. 

“It’s only for the one time” Kyle said and everyone settled down. He was captain after all. 

Stan always felt amazed by Kyle’s debating skills if not slightly scared of him. He’d been so good in all his competitions. Stan thought it was so impressive, how much Kyle cared about everything. He was definitely worthy of his position as captain. 

Today, their team splits up and debates about technology use in the classroom. It’s kind of a boring topic, and Stan isn’t listening per se. He focuses in on Kyle’s quick and animated way of speaking. He talks with his hands, always had. Sometimes he gets irritated and his cheeks flush red, brows furrowed, huffing in annoyance. 

When they’re done, it’s nearly 5 o’clock and the sun is setting. Kyle’s half of the team won the debate. He has a relaxed smile on his face when he approaches Stan. 

“Sorry you had to wait” he says. Stan gets up from where he’s sitting. Everyone is slowly trickling out of the classroom, leaving only him and Kyle behind. 

“It’s fine. It was fun to watch. You did great dude” 

He really means it. Kyle grins. 

“Thanks Stan” he beams. Stan feels overcome with warmth. 

“You really did” he assures, somehow scared Kyle doesn’t believe him. He really doesn’t feel like going to hang out with Cartman and Kenny, just wants Kyle for himself for a bit long. 

“Let’s hope I do as good on Saturday” Kyle says, putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Saturday is the bi-weekly competition. 

“You will” 

“You don’t know that” Kyle hops up on the table. 

Stan steps closer to him. “Yeah I do” 

Kyle laughs, cocks his head to the side. 

“You were distracting me” he says. 

Stan smiles. He thinks about Kyle, his fiery delivery, his hand gestures. Kyle, in front of him, maintains eye contact with him. 

“How so?” Stan asks. Kyle kicks him playfully. 

“With your face. You were emoting so hard”

“I was distracting you with my face?”

“Yeah dude” he grins. 

Stan leans his hands on the table, closer now, on each side of Kyle, who is swinging his legs back and forth. 

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re forgiven”

A little closer and Stan will be able to touch Kyle’s hair, hold his face, pull him in. It’s so easy. He speaks instead -

“You really did good. No one can out-debate you”

Kyle hooks his foot around his leg. 

“Yeah?” he asks. 

“Yeah” Stan nods. 

They’re so close, and the classroom is dark. There’s no one there, the door ajar, and the only sound is that of the heater in the back of the room working overtime. 

“Stan” Kyle says, pulling at the hem of his jacket. Stan can’t think straight. 

“Hmm” he hums. He lifts his hand, touches Kyle’s hair, brushes it back from his forehead just slightly. He’s testing him out, to see how far he can go. Kyle keeps his eyes locked on Stan, not budging. 

Stan leans forward then, catching his lips. Kyle responds eagerly, opens up his mouth. Stan doesn’t even realize how much he’s wanted to taste him again until he’s kissing him. He tastes sweet, like caramelized coffee, like sugar cubes. He moves his other hand to Kyle’s waist, under his jacket, hungry. Kyle grabs his face, pulls him even closer, swipes his bottom lip with his tongue. Stan licks into his mouth, feeling absolutely lost in the kiss. He feels so good, so warm and so eager. He’s convinced he’ll do anything for Kyle, bend to his will fully and completely if he would ask. 

Kyle pulls back then, panting, hands moving down to Stan’s chest. 

“Stan. Let’s go home. It’s getting dark” he says, and nothing else. 

Stan nods, in a trance. “Yeah, okay yeah, let’s go”

They don’t talk about it this time either. They go to Kenny’s house and Stan drinks vodka from the bottle and avoids Kyle’s eye all night. 

-

Stan continues to date Wendy, even though they argue far too much. There’s no way that he makes her happy, and Stan is pretty sure that she knows that she doesn’t make him happy either. 

They’re approaching the end of junior year, and Stan still hasn’t grown the balls to tell Wendy that he doesn’t plan on having sex with her, ever. He knows what it would mean for their relationship. He wonders if Wendy’s ever cheated on him, remembers all too well his own infidelity in their relationship, thinks about it every day. He’d probably be okay with it if she did cheat. He’d be happy for anything to end their relationship without him having to take matters into his own hands, assume responsibility. 

Tonight, he sits with Kenny on his porch. It’s a Friday, and there’s no party today, and also no Kyle. Sheila wanted him home for the weekend, claiming that she needed him to help her with spring-cleaning. It was already nearing summer, and Kyle said he was sure Sheila just wanted him home because she wants to get in as much quality time with him before he leaves for college next year. Stan can’t imagine his parents ever thinking something like this, figures that they’re probably glad to be rid of him. He can’t wait to leave either. 

If everything goes to plan, he and Kyle will be in Boston together next year. Either Boston University or Northeastern just needs to accept him, and his loans need to come though. Kyle is aiming for Harvard, and Stan is fully convinced that he’ll get in. His grades are amazing, and he’s done plenty of extracurricular activities. Stan himself doesn’t have such an impressive repertoire, but his grades are good enough. 

Next to him, Kenny smokes a joint. Stan doesn’t feel like smoking all that often, and so he just nurses a bottle of vodka, occasionally sipping from a bottle of coke too, to wash it all away.

“Stan” Kenny speaks up. 

“Yeah?”

He coughs, takes a hit from his blunt. 

“Can I ask you - have you and Wendy had sex yet?”

Stan fiddles with his hands, considers lying. 

“Uhm, no” he admits. 

Kenn nods. “Why not?” he asks. 

“I’m saving myself. For marriage” Stan jokes. It sounds empty in his mouth, like an echo. Kenny rolls his eyes.

“Don’t make me laugh”

“Yeah, well”

They sit quietly, eyes trained on the night sky. 

“Can you answer me though, seriously?” Kenny starts again. 

“I don’t know dude” Stan shrugs. 

“Can I say something?”

“Sure”

Kenny sucks on the joint again, blowing smoke. 

“I think you actually are saving yourself. For someone”

Stan feels like he’s caught in the act, and shame blooms in his chest. Kenny is his best friend besides Kyle, and it wouldn’t be unexpected if he saw through Stan’s facade. He’s never mentioned it before though. 

“Whatever you’re trying to say dude, just don’t” Stan pleads. He’s aware of how desperate he sounds. 

“Stan, you know it’s okay, right? You can talk about it to me, if you want”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”
“Sure, you don’t”

It’s so dark outside, and the stars are bright and clear. Stan shakes his head, buries his face into his hands. 

“It’s not that easy. All this” he murmurs. 

“I’m not saying it is” Kenny responds. 

“It’s not” Stan presses. 

“Sometimes you need to do difficult things to make your life easier in the long run”

Stan doesn’t know if Kenny is just extremely high or if what he’s saying is actually somewhat inspiring. Maybe he’s drunk too, so much so that he can’t think straight 

“I’m gonna go dude. I’m exhausted”

“Sleep well Stanley. I mean well, you know that, right?”

“I know Kenny” 

He walks down the middle of the road, hands in his pocket. The night air is fresh and cool on his skin. He thinks of Kyle, in bed alone. He takes his phone out of his pocket and decides to call him. It’s only just past midnight. 

“Hey” he whispers - “Did I wake you?”

Kyle sounds mildly disgruntled on the other end of the line. 

“Stan, are you okay?” he asks as a form of greeting, voice low. 

Stan laughs, short and breathless. 

“Drunk. A little. Can I come sleep at yours?”

Kyle says nothing for a moment. Stan is already setting course to his house instead of his own. 

“You’ll have to sneak in. Mom is already asleep” 

Stan holds the phone closer to his ear, like it’ll get him to Kyle faster. 

“I can do that. I can be quiet” he says. 

“Then sure. But if you make any noise, I’ll kill you” Kyle whispers. 

“Of course Kyle” Stan giggles, amused by his threatening. 

He doesn’t take long to get to Kyle’s house. He wonders how often he’s walked this road, how many times he’s knocked on Kyle’s front door. He doesn’t knock now, just texts Kyle a quick i’m here . He opens up the door and puts a finger to his lips, indicating Stan not to speak. He’s wearing his pajama shirt and pants and his hair is a mess. Stan loves it. 

Once they’re in bed together, facing each other, Kyle greets him. 

“Hey dude” he whispers. He’s softer now, happy about Stan delivering on his promise that he’d keep quiet. His hair is splayed on the pillow, unruly against his cheek and forehead.  

“Hey” Stan whispers back. 

Kyle kicks him lightly under the sheets. 

“Why are you drunk?”

“Just am”

“Dude”

Stan presses his nose in the pillow, laughs quietly. 

“I think my brain conditioned me to think that every time I’m drunk, I’ll sleep in your bed. I felt a craving for it. I think it’s your sheets” he murmurs against the fabric. 

“My sheets are linen, so maybe” Kyle shrugs. 

“They’re so soft”

Kyle giggles in the dark. 

“Your theory about your brain being conditioned is stupid though” he says. Stan turns on the pillow, to look at him. 

“Sorry”

“It’s okay dumbass”

He turns around again, curls away from Kyle. Kyle immediately latches onto him, like he always does, hands around his waist, ankles locked with his. It’s like it’s a force of nature. 

“I wanna sleep” Stan slurs. He feels so tired and warm, thinks that he would like to feel like this forever and ever. 

Kyle is quiet for a long time, breathing slowly. 

“Stan” he speaks up then, with Stan already on the brink of sleep. 

“Hmm?” he hums, too tired. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Stan moves closer to him, pressing his back against Kyle’s chest. 

“Yeah, go ahead” he mumbles. Kyle breathes in deeply through his nose. 

“Have you - are you still a virgin?”

Stan blinks a few times. 

“Dude - you’re the second person to ask me tonight. What - am I just radiating extreme virgin energy today?” he says. 

“Who asked?” Kyle inquires.   

“Kenny. Was with him”

“Hmm”

Stan contemplates lying once again. With Kyle, it’s even harder. 

“I am” he answers, then- “are you?”

Kyle pauses for a moment. “Yeah” he says, sounding breathless. 

Stan feels relief spread through his chest, but he doesn’t know why, not exactly. He’s drunk, and Kyle’s room is so dark. 

“Kyle, it’s - it’s so dark in here dude” he murmurs. 

Kyle buries his nose further between his shoulder blades. Stan feels afraid for a moment, foolishly, like a child. It’s not the dark, it’s something else - the way he can feel Kyle so close to him, with nothing else to focus on, fully overtaking all his senses. Kyle’s fingers tug on his shirt, play with the fabric of it. He smells like cinnamon, like freshly brewed lemon tea. Everything is soft around him. 

“Why are you still a virgin Stan? I don’t get that” Kyle mumbles, far away. He bites Stan, but only lightly. It doesn’t hurt, but Stan can feel his teeth through his shirt. 

“I- I don’t know” he resorts to answering once again, because he doesn’t; or doesn’t want to. Kyle says nothing else, and they drift off into sleep. 

-

Wendy breaks it off with Stan right before senior year starts, a few months before his 18th birthday. They’ve broken up before, and they’ve had plenty of rough patches but it’s never felt as final as this time. Stan isn’t sure if it was his reluctance to have sex even after 5 years of dating or if it was something else, but they’re done for. 

Wendy is dating other guys less than two months after she breaks up with Stan. That’s never happened before, which makes Stan think that this time, it’s really over. He’s relieved, but he’s scared too. There goes his excuse; there goes his buffer, which terrible as it is, Wendy had become for him. It’s harder now, to avoid thinking about the way his stomach flips when Kyle touches him, beneath his hands, in his arms. He can’t exactly ignore it as easily. 

Kyle and him sit on the floor in his room, watching some dumb movie. They just got back from school and Stan had to force Kyle to unwind for a little bit instead of going straight into finishing up his college work, which is what he had been focusing in for weeks now. A woman dramatically cries on screen. The movie is kind of terrible. Stan sighs. 

“So Wendy is going on another date tonight with this guy from out of town. She texted me about it like, kind of asking permission. As if I give a fuck” he tells Kyle. 

Kyle smiles tightly next to him, not looking away from the screen of the television. He looks so tired these days, tired from finishing up his applications, from working so hard to finally be done with high school. He’ll hear from Harvard in a few months. Stan knows how nervous he is, how much pressure he’s feeling from his parents as well as himself. Stan hopes that Kyle knows that he doesn’t care if he gets in or not, will support him whatever happens. 

“You know what’s funny?” Kyle speaks, “I’ve never been on a date before. That’s kind of pathetic isn’t it?”

Stan looks away from the movie. 

“It’s a little sad dude” he says. 

Kyle smiles again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He gets up and sits on his bed near the window, lights a cigarette, smokes quickly and hungrily. Stan wants to pluck the cigarette from between his lips, thinks that’s probably stupid, for him to want that. 

“Maybe I’ll take you on a date” he says, feeling reckless. Kyle says nothing for a while, just smokes with wide eyes. He speaks then - 

“That’s- okay, yeah go for it. How would it be a date? Instead of just us going for dinner together”

They did go for dinner together quite often, with Stan driving and Kyle picking the music always. Stan shrugs. 

“Well - you know. I’d put in a bit more effort than just us driving over to some diner by the highway”

Kyle laughs, taps his cigarette against the windowsill. 

“I don’t know, that sounds pretty good to me. As long as you’re buying” he grins. 

Stan rolls his eyes. 

“Your standards are depressingly low, and you’re a leech by the way” he says. 

Kyle just grins wider. 

“I never quite got the idea that you are some master of romance but okay, Stanley, if you wanna be all fancy then feel free”

The way he’s using Stan’s full name right now makes him think of Wendy. Wendy loved to go on dates, was always asking Stan to take her out. He didn’t mind, liked it better than just hanging out with her in her room, where he had no choice but to be confronted with how much he didn’t want to have sex with her as they sat on the bed. 

“Uhm. Okay. When should we go?” Stan asks. 

“Just pick me up tonight” Kyle shrugs. 

“I’m here already?”

“So go home then. You said it would be a real date”

Stan laughs. He’s kind of stunned that Kyle is agreeing to this. He wonders if Kyle sees it as a joke. He then wonders if he himself sees it as a joke, thinks he probably doesn’t. He doesn’t, and that’s scary. 

“You’re right. I’ll go” he says, grabbing his backpack and standing up. Kyle takes a final drag from his cigarette, chucks it out the window. 

“See you tonight then” he says, smiling. 

Stan smiles too, suddenly nervous. 

“Alright” he says, and he’s out the door. 

Stan picks him up at 7 o’clock. At the door, Sheila tells them not to be back too late, smiles like she’s in the know of something. It all feels so real. Stan is reminded of the fact that he’s too much of a coward to ask Kyle on a real date, that he’s a terrible person for indulging in this.  

They go to one of the few decent restaurants in town, and everything feels surprisingly grown-up; the two of them wearing button-downs, across from each other eating their semi-fancy meals as they talk and laugh. Stan thinks of Boston, thinks of Kyle and him having dinner in an apartment they share. Stan would cook for him, and they’d eat in their pajama pants. After that, they’d get into bed together, the rest of the world indifferent to them. Kyle would hum him to sleep, hand in his hair as the other rests on his waist. Stan would be happy. 

After dinner, they walk to the cinema. It’s close, as most things are in South Park. Sometimes Stan forgets how small-scale their town is. Maybe he’ll miss that - knowing the streets like the back of his hand. 

“Dinner and a movie. It’s a classic date combo” Stan says as they arrive at the theater. Kyle smiles, soft and sweet. He looks so happy, his eyes bright. 

“Can’t believe I finally get to experience it. I’m still not sure how this is different from us just going to the movies together though” he says as Stan purchases the tickets. 

“Dude, we’re wearing proper clothes. It’s different” Stan presses. 

He wonders if the ticket clerk thinks they’re on a date. He kinda wants him to think exactly that, wants to stupidly blurt out that he is in fact on a date with Kyle Broflovski.

“I guess so” Kyle shrugs. 

The movie that they watch is no less stupid than the one they watched earlier that afternoon. They giggle at the dumb jokes and the bad acting. Kyle whispers hilarious inconsistencies to him, so so close. At some points, his lips brush against the shell of Stan’s ear, and he shivers with the sensation of it. 

When it’s done, Stan almost wants to grab his hand as they’re walking to the car. He doesn’t. 

As they drive, Kyle plays a sweet, slow song that Stan doesn’t recognize. 

When I wake up in the morning

I'll make you some coffee

We'll lay about and let the day pass

I'll wipe your blood off the concrete

Take you to the party

We'll drink until our brains black out

And god, you're so pretty

Your smile's unforgiving

I'll place it where nobody can find

I'll play all your favorite songs

And shake when the lights go off

I'll hide us in the warm night

Oh, I think you're alright

The windows are down, and the soft breeze of the night tugs on Kyle’s hair. 

By the time they get back, Stan feels over-the-moon happy. At the door, Kyle smiles at him, beaming. 

“So, how do you normally end your dates?” he asks. 

“With Wendy, you mean?”

“Yeah”

Stan feels reckless, like there’s nothing that could go wrong tonight, or ever, as long as he’s with Kyle. 

“Well, I’d take her home, obviously. Like I’ve done with you just now” he says. 

Kyle nods. “Real gentlemanly of you”

“Duh” 

“And then?”

Kyle leans back against the door. Stan thinks he looks unreal in the moonlight. He’s always been pretty but even more so tonight. 

“Sometimes I’d go in with her. But most times not, because her parents were kind of strict about those things. Sleeping over and stuff”

Kyle nods. “Right. So what’d you do instead?” 

Stan swallows tightly, decides fuck it- 

“Well, I would just-” he places his hands on Kyle’s shoulders, pulls slightly - “Pull her in. By her shoulders. Brush back her hair. You know”

They’re close, Kyle’s eyes unrelentingly locked with his own. 

“And then?” he presses. Stan breathes in. 

“I’d kiss her goodnight” he says, voice low like he’s sharing a secret. 

“Hmm” Kyle hums.
“Yeah. Take her face into my hands and just-” Stan moves his hands so that he’s holding Kyle’s face by the jaw. He stills under his touch. 

“Kiss her” Kyle finishes his sentence. 

“Yeah”

Stan doesn’t hesitate this time, leans forward and kisses him, hard and good. Kyle makes a noise like he’s surprised, but Stan is sure that he’s not. His hands come up to Stan’s waist, pull at his shirt, and he kisses back with fervor. Stan thinks of all the times that he’d seen him kissing someone else, thinks about how wrong it had felt, how much he couldn’t stop thinking that no one should get to kiss Kyle like that but him. Right now, Stan feels incredible - like this is what’s right, like this is how it’s supposed to be. Kyle bites down on his bottom lip, pulls him impossibly closer. He tastes so sweet and Stan whimpers at the feeling of it, feels immediately embarrassed afterwards. Kyle kisses him even harder. When they pull back, they’re both breathing heavily. 

“Just like that, huh?” Kyle asks. He steps back, takes his hands off of Stan, leaving him cold.

“Yeah” he mumbles. 

“Alright. Thanks for the date Stanley” 

“It’s nothing” 

“Will you call me?” Kyle asks, blinking his eyes in an exaggerated, playful manner. Stan feels grateful that he’s attempting to break the tension. 

“You’re so desperate dude” he jokes back. 

“That’s not your thing?” 

“Oh no, it is”

“Oh, perfect! I’m sooo desperate for you Stan” Kyle jokes again, but it doesn’t feel like a joke anymore. Stan smiles at the floor, averting his eyes. 

“Well, I’ll have to call you then” he says. Kyle shuffles his feet. 

“Great. Goodnight dude. I’d better go in. Mom’s been waiting” he says, and he opens up the door with his key. Stan thinks of Wendy again, how similar she and Kyle are, always have been. 

“Goodnight Kyle” he says. He wants to kiss him again, but he doesn’t, just walks back to his car. He gets in, puts the key in the ignition, and Kyle leans in the door frame, watches him go. 

-

Spring comes and Kyle gets into Harvard. When he first heard about it, he’d called Stan up, screaming into the phone for him to come over, sounding over the moon happy. Stan had already heard back from Boston at that point, secure with the knowledge that he got in too. They were going to Boston together, this was a fact now. 

High school feels pointless after they hear back from their respective colleges. Stan feels like he’s just sitting it out, if only to prolong what time he has left with his friends. Kenny is staying in South Park to no one’s surprise, planning to work at the gas station to save money to support his family. Cartman is going to film school in Los Angeles, which Stan finds kind of incredible and funny. He’s going to hate everyone at that school. Wendy is going to Berkeley. 

She’d known for a while that she would go to the opposite end of the country of him, even before they had broken up. They never really talked it over, both of them just deciding for themselves what would be the best choice of college. Now that they were broken up, Stan supposes it doesn’t matter. 

The weeks pass with frequent parties. Stan drinks with his friends, sleeps at Kyle’s house, wakes up in the morning to his warm body pressed against his back. His parents fight, and his dad leaves only to come back again. It feels like he’s stuck in a movie that’s on repeat, a skipping record. He doesn’t kiss Kyle again. He hates how much of a coward he is more than anything. 

Wendy comes over to his house on a Thursday night in April, ringing his doorbell. Stan is glad that his dad is out when he invites her in. They go up to his room, sit on the bed across from each other. 

“I’ve been thinking. I think it would be nice if we went to prom together. I mean- I’ve been with you for like, all of high school” Wendy says. 

Stan takes a moment to really look at her. She looks so grown up, so much more mature than him. She always had been. Her hair falls over her shoulders and Stan wants to brush it back. He suddenly feels very small and very stupid. He doesn’t understand why Wendy ever gave him the time of day when he gave her so little back. He doesn’t know what he ever did for her, how he contributed to her life at all. He feels impossibly guilty. 

“But we’re broken up” he mumbles. Wendy shrugs. 

“We’ve broken up a lot. It doesn’t mean I don’t still love you Stanley” she says. Stan bites down on his bottom lip hard, feeling childish. 

“You do?” he asks. 

“Do you?” Wendy doesn’t answer, just turns the question around on him. 

“I miss you” Stan says. 

He doesn’t really miss her as much as he thought he would. He just misses the sense of security she provided for him. 

“That’s different” 

“I don’t know, Wendy. I didn’t know that you would wanna get back together with me. I mean, you’ve dated some guys in between now, so I thought it was over for real this time” 

“Did you want it to be?”

He doesn’t speak the truth because lying is that much easier. He thinks about prom, how it means so little in the grand scheme of it all. He’s going to Boston with Kyle and Wendy is going to Berkeley. 

“I don’t know” he says. Wendy sighs, flips her hair over her shoulder, shrugs on her jacket. 

“Well - just think it over. We can go to prom without getting back together. I just think it would make sense, and you don’t have a date yet, right?” 

“Yeah. That’s- that’s true” 

“Well, okay Stanley, let me know” 

She leaves him in a daze. 

-

Stan says yes to Wendy a week later, over the phone. She’s excited about it. There’s one week left for everyone to get tickets and during a lunch break, Cartman brings up the subject. 

“Prom is coming up. Are we going to that stupid thing, or what?” he asks. 

Kyle ponders for a while, then shrugs. 

“I mean- it could be fun” he says. 

Kenny nods.

“Yeah” Stan says. “Besides, I have a date, kind of. So I have to go”

An uncomfortable silence falls over the group.

“Damn” Cartman says, looking as if he wants to burst out laughing. Stan catches Kyle’s eye, and Kyle looks away from him. After a while, he stands up without a word and walks off. 

Stan wants to scream. He feels stupid. He knew that he was being cowardly by saying yes to Wendy but he’d hoped that Kyle wouldn’t blame him for it too much. Actually, he doesn’t know what he’d hoped, what he wants. He sighs and stands up, following Kyle to where he’s smoking a cigarette, outside. They’re not allowed to smoke on school property but Kyle seemingly isn’t concerned about that right now. 

“Wendy asked me to prom” Stan says, getting right to the point. He feels so tired, mostly of himself, but also of this dance that he and Kyle are sharing, have been sharing for years now. 

“Right. And you said yes, because-?” 

Kyle looks angry, his hands trembling as he talks. He sucks on his cigarette, paces. 

“I mean, we’ve been together through like, all of high school. It only makes sense” Stan attempts to justify. He knows that he’s just making excuses, that it makes no sense at all for him to go with Wendy, that this last desperate attempt of displaying his fabricated attraction to her is no less pathetic than their entire relationship was. 

“If that’s what you think” Kyle says. Stan wants to grab his hands, hold him still. 

“I don’t know who else I would have even gone with” he says. 

“No, of course” 

Kyle paces again, smoking quickly. He chucks the butt of his cigarette away when he finishes and immediately lights another one. 

“Dude, are you like - upset with me? You seem off” Stan asks, but he already knows the answer. 

“I just thought you guys were broken up for real now. I thought it was over” Kyle says, agitated voice. 

“I mean, we’ve broken up before” 

Kyle says nothing, sucks in and blows out smoke like his life depends on it. Stan feels annoyed that he’s smoking so quickly, but doesn’t comment on it. 

“Are you gonna get back together? And how are you gonna make that work, since she’s going to literally the other side of the country for college. Are you gonna be long distance?” Kyle asks in the voice that he uses when he’s debating. 

“Dude, Kyle, I haven’t thought about it that much. Why are you grilling me over this?” Stan argues back. 

“Because like, you always do this! You’re always just - doing things without thinking them through! Don’t you think Wendy is going to get the impression that you might wanna get back together with her if you go to prom together?” Kyle exclaims, hands moving about wildly.  

“I’m not like that - it’s just not that big of a deal. You’re making it a way bigger deal than it is” 

“Or maybe you just don’t think! You just fucking do things without thinking of the consequences for other people!”

Kyle finishes his cigarette and crosses his arms, looking anywhere but at Stan. 

“Why do you care so much?” Stan asks, wishing Kyle would just tell him honestly.

“Fucking forgive me for caring. I’ll shut the fuck up, I’ll just let you do whatever you want” Kyle snaps. 

“You’re being so dramatic, I don’t fucking get it. It doesn’t concern you anyway” Stan argues, because it’s easier than talking about everything else unspoken between them. 

“Right. No, you’re right. It has nothing to do with me” Kyle says, and he laughs, mean and short. 

“It doesn’t”

Stan digs his nails into his palm. Kyle used to trace his fingers when he’d panic, he remembers that. 

“I’m gonna go inside. Go to class. Break is almost over anyway”  Kyle says now, and he turns around and walks away. 

“Whatever. Bye” Stan snaps, though Kyle probably can’t hear him anymore. 

He drives him home that day in complete and utter silence. In the evening, he gets a text from him. 

Sorry

Stan wants to scream, wants to run through the streets and bang on Kyle’s door and take his face in his hands. Instead, he types - 

its fine

But it’s not fine between them, and over the weeks leading up to prom, they’re cold with each other. Everyone notices of course, with Kenny shooting Stan worrying glances and Cartman rolling his eyes at them. That week, Kyle tells him not to come and sleep over. His mom needs him for something early in the morning, apparently, and it just wouldn’t be convenient. Stan wants to bawl his eyes out. 

Prom arrives sooner than he could have imagined. Wendy pretty much planned everything for them, buying their corsages and ordering them a nice car to drop them off. Stan wears his dad’s old suit. Before he leaves, he takes a couple swigs of vodka. 

The gymnasium is adorned with flimsy decorations. The music playing is a combination of 80s classic songs and top 40 hits, which is terrible in so many aspects. Stan wonders if Kyle is even coming, finds that he almost wishes that he wouldn’t. This whole thing suddenly feels embarrassing to Stan, and he feels like he’s playing a part as he holds Wendy by her waist on the dance floor. Wendy is wearing a sleek black dress, and she looks gorgeous. Stan feels like a kid in his dad’s suit. 

Kyle does come, and Stan spots him on the stands about an hour into the prom. He’s wearing a brown suit that looks extremely good on him. Sheila must have gotten it tailor-made. Stan wants to touch him under it, feels sick for thinking so. 

Kyle watches him dance with Wendy, through thick-lidded eyes. Kenny joins him at some point, and Stan watches them talk. Wendy goes to mingle with her girlfriends, and Stan walks up to Clyde to get him to share some of the booze that he knows he keeps in the inside pocket of his jacket. He takes a few swigs, feeling slightly dizzy. He wants to walk up to Kyle, apologize for this whole mess and plead for him to come back to him, but when he sets course to the stands he can’t find him. Kenny is still there though, and Stan goes to sit next to him.  

“Kyle is smoking outside” Kenny tells him. Stan buries his face in his hands.

“Right, okay” he mumbles. He gets up then, walks out of the gymnasium and through the hall. It’s fairly cold outside, for springtime. Kyle is leaning against the wall, cigarette in his hand. 

“Are you just gonna be outside this whole time?” Stan speaks up. Kyle catches his eye, shrugs. 

“What’s the point? I don’t have a date, and prom is fucking lame”

He taps, and some ash falls on the ground next to his shoes. Stan huffs, annoyed. 

“Dude, it doesn’t have to be. Just come inside, we can-”

“We can do what, dance?”

Stan thinks about how nice it would be, his nose pressed into Kyle’s curls, his hand on the small of his back. 

“I wasn’t gonna say that” he murmurs. 

Kyle is silent for a while, smoking.

“Stan, what’s the point of me?” he asks then. 

Stan doesn’t know how to tell him that, really, there is no point without him, and that’s what scares him so much. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, voice small. 

“Why do you keep me around? It’s starting to feel sort of pathetic”

Stan is confused. 

“What do you even mean dude? You’re my best friend”

Kyle laughs, like this particular statement is hilarious to him. 

“I am? That’s what I am?” he asks. 

“Yes” Stan nods. 

Kyle walks up to him, closer. 

“How do you feel about me, really?”

“Dude-”

“Stan, just tell me”

Stan can’t think, feels like he’s drowning, or choking on air. 

“You - you make me feel safe. I feel good around you, like I’m okay and everything will be fine. I think you’re great. I think you deserve everything good in the world. I really do” he says. 

Kyle scoffs. Stan feels frustrated, like he’s not getting through to Kyle. 

“You have no fucking idea how crazy I feel like, all the time. You make me feel normal, like it's okay. Like it will be. I feel like myself around you” he reiterates. 

Kyle laughs again but it sounds like poison. 

“Great so, you feel normal in comparison to me. That's great. That’s it?” 

“Why are you being like this? You know that's not what I mean. That’s not even remotely what I mean”

“I want you to be honest! I want you to stop telling me these - these empty fucking things. You know you’re lying”  

“I’m not, I’m not fucking lying”

Kyle takes a few steps, quick quick quick, and lurches forward, kissing Stan. His hands get tangled in his hair then move to the sides of his face, his jaw, his throat. He’s rough and mean, pulling, biting, pushing. Stan kisses him back with just as much fervor, opens up his mouth. All he can taste is sweetness. Kyle pulls away after what feels like only a few seconds, stumbles back. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re not even gonna push me away? You’re too much of a fucking coward to push me away, or to quit dating Wendy for good for that matter! Do you need to have both, or do you just blindly accept whatever happens to you? Is it just me and Wendy who are fawning over you all the time, swooning for you, and you just let it all happen? Do you ever make a decision for yourself?” he yells. 

Stan feels his breathing become quick, and he wants to throw up. 

“Kyle-” he starts, but Kyle cuts him off. 

“You know I wish I never met you? You're the most important person in my life and I wish I never fucking met you. I think about it so often, how much more well-adjusted I could have been if I never fucking met you. I'm so fucking pathetic. Can't you see how fucking pathetic I am?”

Stan wants to plead to him, beg him to stop talking and just kiss him again. He feels hopeless. 

“I- I don’t know what you mean. You're not pathetic” he murmurs. Kyle pushes his chest, steps back again. 

“Stop fucking lying! I am. I fucking am. I’ve been in love with you for fucking ages, Stan, I’m a pathetic loser!” he exclaims. 

Stan can’t speak then, feeling glued to the wall. His breath is knocked out of him, and he feels everything slow down around him. Kyle is in love with him. Kyle is in love with him and he fucked it all up. 

“God fucking dammit, I’ve been wanting you to want me for longer than I can even remember, and I turn into this desperate, pitiful mess when you even give me the slightest bit of attention. It didn’t matter if I came second, all this time. God, fucking damn it Stan, you knew. You knew, didn’t you? There’s no way you didn’t know how I felt all this time” Kyle says, and his voice has lost some of the heat it had before. 

He looks so sad, eyes brimmed with tears and Stan hates himself for making him feel like that. He’s so in love with him and he can’t speak. Kyle loves him too but he doesn’t deserve him in the slightest, not after everything he’s done. 

“I-I didn’t know” Stan whispers. It’s not completely true. He used to fantasize about Kyle loving him like this, but as he got older he stopped himself before he could let the thought unfold too much. Self-preservation, or something like that. Kyle being in love with him was just a dream that kept him awake all too often. 

“Do you think this is fucking normal? This thing that we’re doing, whatever it is? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Kyle exclaims. Stan wants to sink into the floor. 

“Kyle-” 

“You know what - you know what, fuck this Stan. Fuck this- and fuck coming second and fuck waiting for you to come to your senses and fuck our whole friendship. I hope you’re fucking happy with Wendy, I hope you marry and have three kids and live in a nice house. Though that’ll be hard, won't it? Since you can’t even fuck her properly. Goddamn it” 

It feels like being shot in the chest, and he wants to subsequently fall down to his knees. Kyle knows him so well, and has always known. He knows how pathetic he is, all the ins and outs of it. 

“Fuck you Kyle” Stan says through his teeth, but he doesn’t mean it. 

“No, no - you don’t get to say that! You’re such a fucking coward Stan, always have been. I’m done with this. I’m tired of having to love you like this. It’s fucking exhausting. I’m done!” Kyle shouts. 

He does walk off, runs even. The night is dark and starry above them. Stan completely crumbles and curls up on the ground, against the wall. He presses his palms in his hands, his breathing stuck in his throat. He deserves it. He hates himself more than anything. He loves Kyle so truly and utterly desperately but it hurts so much, and he cries with the force of it. 

He’s alone and tired and Kyle is gone, then. Inside, the music continues undisturbed.