Chapter Text
"Creative writing sucks ass," Stan complained. "I haven't written anything in the last thirty minutes!"
"My mom tried to write a book once!" said Cartman, who hasn't even gotten out his notebook to write in in the entire half hour the four boys have been sitting on the floor in his room. "She was going to write about hand jobs-"
"What's a hand job?" Stan interrupted.
Cartman rolled his eyes. "Jobs that require your hands! Like baking or uh, using a hammer, anyway-"
"That's not what a hand job is," Kenny said.
Cartman ignored him. "Anyway," he said with a glare in both Stan and Kenny's direction. "She says you spend more time thinking about writing than actually writing."
"That's stupid," said Stan. He leaned closer to Kenny. "What are you writing about, Kenny?"
"Hot chicks!"
"Gross, Kenny. What are you writing about, Cartman?"
"I'm not telling you!" hissed Cartman, who still has yet to write anything. "Because then you'll steal my idea!"
Stan rolled his eyes. "Whatever, fat fuck. What are you writing about, Kyle?"
While his three friends bickered and wasted time, Kyle had been furiously writing different ideas and prompts and paragraphs in his notebook, not paying any mind to his friends.
"Kyle?" Stan prompted.
"Huh?" Kyle snapped out of his thoughts. "Er, nothing."
"Probably something totally girly and lame," Cartman snickered.
Kenny laughed.
"Oh please, at least hes actually writing something!" Stan snapped in defense of his best friend. To Kyle he asked, "so what are you writing?"
Kyle's face flushed red. "Er. Nothing!" He jumped to his feet, holding his notebook tightly to his chest. "Uh, I should go! See you tomorrow, Stan, Kenny."
"Oh, okay," Stan said, disappointed.
Kyle hurried out of Cartman's room before Stan could say anything else.
"So, what do you guys reckon is up Kyle's vagina this time?" Cartman asked.
"He was quiet all day." Kenny pointed out.
Because he was actually writing, Stan wanted to point out, but he didn't. Kyle had been acting a little weird. He didn't try to make any smart ass comments about his work, and he had ignored all of Cartman's obnoxious remarks.
"I'm sure he's fine." Stan said.
"Lord I hope not," said Cartman.
"Kyle, what's wrong?" Kyle's mom asked as soon as he walked through the front door, looking angry and confused. "Did something happen, booboo? Did you get hurt?"
Kyle barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was ten years old. He didn't need to be babied by his parents anymore.
"Nothing happened," he insisted. "I have to finish this writing project, now," he hurried out of the living room and to his bedroom. He shut the door, and then locked it after a few minutes of consideration. His parents hated when he locked his door. He didn't care.
Kyle sat on the edge of his bed and opened his notebook, the love story of Kyle and Stan Karl and Steve, and flipped to where he left off. His ears turned red immediately.
"This is stupid..."
It was hard to separate Karl from himself, and hard to separate Steve from Stan. It was a poor excuse of hiding his true feelings for his best friend. Anyone who read this would know it was really about Kyle having a big gay crush on his best friend, not Karl.
"Well it is just the first draft!" Kyle reasoned with himself, hoping to stay positive. "No one has to even look at my first draft. Or even know about it! Not even my lame ass teachers."
With a new surge of feigned confidence, Kyle continued writing, with a light blush on his face.
About an hour of writing later, Kyle paused and stared down at what he wrote.
Kyarl was finally alone with Steve, after hours of their dickhead friend following them around and making crude jokes, the two were finally alone.
"Cartman is an asshole," said Steve, "I'm glad it's just us now."
(What? Kyle said it was a first draft! He could think of a name for Karl's dickhead friend later.)
"Me-me too!" Karl said, realizing just how close the two were sitting together on the couch. Fuck this stupid video game, Karl thinks to himself, I got a better idea. He was going to do it.
"But do what?" Kyle groaned, trying to think of things he wanted to do to Stan. Confess his feelings, obviously, but was Kyle really that brave?
Kyle's stomach fluttered awkwardly. "I could-" his voice came out light and squeaky. "I could always make them-"
Karl didn't have to do it, wrote Kyle quickly, feeling oddly nervous and jittery, as he imagined the scene in his head. Stan leaned closer to Kyle, and he kissed him on the lips.
Kyle didn't even have time to change the names, suddenly someone knocked three times on the door, and Kyle jumped, quickly hiding his notebook under his blanket.
"Coming!" shouted Kyle, once his heart returned to a normal pace. He unlocked the door, and there stood Cartman and Kenny.
"What the fuck do you want, fatass?" Kyle demanded, crossing his arms. "HI Kenny."
"Hi Kyle," Kenny said happily.
"Kyle, what I have here is three bucks," Cartman said, pulling a handful of quarters out of his pocket. "I stole them from the gumball machine."
"So?"
"Well... if you just maybe... added a little extra writing time in your day... you got three bucks, Kyle."
"I'm not writing your project for you."
"Oh come on!" Cartman whined. "You know how hard it was to get these?" he shoved his hand in Kyle's face. "What were you doing in there anyway? Jacking it off? Do you want me to tell on you?"
"Nice try, Cartman. I was just writing."
"With your door locked?" Cartman laughed. "Wow wow wow! Kyle's definitely up to something naughty-"
"Fuck off. Go write your story yourself," Kyle said, slamming the door in his face.
"Is it about Stan?" Cartman hollored at the door. Kyle's silence made Cartman laugh even harder. "I bet it is! I bet you're writing gay shit about Stan!"
Kyle's face burned red with anger, and also with embarrassment. He hated Cartman so, so much. He had to rewrite his project. He grabbed another notebook and began copying each word, but making damn sure there was no way anyone could tell Karl and Steve were supposed to be Kyle and Stan.
"Thanks for coming over, dude," Stan said at the front door, welcoming Kyle in. "This writing project can kiss my ass!"
Randy, who had been walking past Stan, stopped in his tracks and fixed his son an icy glare. "Stan! What did we say about that word?"
"Sorry dad," grumbled Stan, and he corrected himself. "This pansy ass project can kiss my ass!"
Randy nodded sternly. "That's better." And he walked away.
"Sorry my dad is a moron," Stan said, shutting the front door.
"It's fine dude, he's not as stupid as my parents," Kyle pointed out.
"That's true."
The two sat down on the couch and Stan flipped open his notebook. His handwriting was a little messier than Kyle's, and his writing was an entire block of text with no paragraph breaks.
"I don't get paragraphs," Stan grumbled.
"Or quotation marks," joked Kyle, noticing some bits of dialogue weren't in quotations.
"Shup up, I wrote this in a hurry!"
"A paragraph introduces one idea and a new one starts with another idea, or a transition phase to continue the previous idea."
"That's so stupid."
Kyle pointed at the first few sentences. "This starts with saying your main character John is lazy. It gives a few examples, which continues your idea, and where you write, 'John's mom calls him for dinner' can start the next paragraph, get it?"
"I guess so," said Stan. "It's still stupid."
He was close, Kyle realized, remembering what he wrote earlier that same day, about him and Stan sitting together on the couch, and how Stan kissed him-
Stop it. You wrote that. It wasn't real. Kyle shook his head, as if trying to physically get rid of his thoughts.
"You okay?" Stan asked with a frown. "You look kinda... weird, I guess."
"I'm fine!" Kyle insisted quickly. "So, about quotation marks-"
Mrs. Marsh walked in on them then, muttering something under her breath about her ridiculous husband, when she noticed Kyle. She put her hands on her hips. "Stan, what did I say about having friends over before your homework is done?"
"But mom-" Stan began to protest.
Mrs. Marsh burst into laughter. "I'm just kidding, Kyle is always welcome here! Kyle would you like to stay for dinner? We're having beef stew."
Kyle felt a little embarrassed, and he wasn't sure what. "Thanks Mrs. Marsh, that'll be nice. I'm just helping Stan with this writing assignment."
"Aw that's nice," Mrs. Marsh said before she left the two boys alone again.
"I'm pretty sure she loves you more than me," Stan said, exasperated.
"I doubt it," Kyle said.
"I can't blame her, you're super loveable," said Stan, which wasn't something he would usually say, and it made Kyle's stomach jump.
"Um, thanks?"
Stan laughed. "Don't overthink it."
That made his heart drop. Of course it meant nothing. Stan didn't like him like that. And I shouldn't like him like that, Kyle thought sadly as he watched Stan rewrite the first page of his story, this time with proper paragraphs. I don't know why I do. It's not fair.
Kyle had worked out he had a crush on Stan months ago, and since then he's only felt confused and angry about his crush. Stan was his best friend, he didn't want Stan to think he was weird or gross, or worse, he didn't want Stan to hate him.
"You're thinking too loud," Stan complained. "Why don't you tell me about paragraphs again, I don't know if this is correct..."
Kyle always felt a little uncomfortable eating at the Marsh's, and that's because they constantly pestered Stan with questions. Parents love to ask stupid questions when their kids' friends' were over.
"So, Stan," Randy began, dramatically clearing his throat. "I haven't seen Wendy around in quite some time."
Kyle couldn't help but glance at Stan. Stan sighed, pinching his forehead in frustration. "Yeah, dad, we broke up."
"Oh." Randy looked disappointed. "Again?"
"Stan can't keep a girlfriend," said Shelly with a laugh.
"We broke up weeks ago," said Stan.
Kyle noticed that Stan didn't sound upset about it. He only seemed annoyed that his dad was asking about it. Knowing Randy this probably wasn't the first time he asked.
"Well," Randy trailed off, looking over at his wife, almost as if he was afraid. "Are there maybe ant other girls-"
"Randy!" Sharon hissed.
"Er, sorry." Randy said to his wife. He looked at Kyle. Or was Kyle imagining it? "But do you, Stan?"
"Oh look! I'm done with my dinner! Thanks mom!" Stan said in a hurry. He nudged Kyle. "Dudevare you finished?"
"Yes."
"Great. Come on."
"Where are you two going?" Randy interrupted.
"Kyle's staying over," Stan said dismissively, hopping off his chair.
"He is?" said Sharon.
I am? thought Kyle.
"Again?" Randy said, pointedly.
Why was Randy looking at him like that? Why did he sound so judgy? Why did he keep asking about Wendy? Kyle pushed the thoughts away. Kyle was just overthinking things. Surely.
"Yeah," said Stan.
"Oh, well that's nice," Sharon said with a sweet smile.
Randy leaned closer to her and whispered in her ear, shooting a quick glance at Kyle.
Kyle swallowed and told himself it was nothing and followed Stan into the kitchen.
"Sorry my parents are so annoying," Stan said as he rinsed out his bowl in the sink. "And so nosy. I don't know why they care about Wendy so much."
"I didn't know I was sleeping over," Kyle blurted out.
"Oh, I just assumed," Stan muttered. And was Kyle imagining it, or did Stan sound a little sad?
Of course Stan sounded sad. He liked hanging out with Kyle. Because they were best friends. No other reason, Kyle told himself.
"I mean I'd like to sleepover," Kyle said.
Stan's face lit up and he smiled. Kyle felt that weird fluttery feeling in his stomach again. He hated how much he started to like that feeling.
"Okay, cool."
It was nearing one AM, and Kyle and Stan were still awake, laughing to themselves quietly in Stan's bed.
"Okay, okay, but do you uh, like any girls, currently?" Kyle dared himself to ask. "Only because your parents seem to think so."
"Not really, I'm so over Wendy, she's cool and all but she's also totally lame."
Kyle didn't think she was lame, but he did unfairly resent her when she and Stan first started dating. He never understood why she annoyed him so much. Now he did understand. Kyle felt a little glad that Stan thought Wendy was lame.
"But any other girl?" Kyle pressed. He waited for Stan's answer nervously.
"No. You?"
Kyle shook his head. "No. It's a lot of work, liking a girl."
Stan looked at him funny. "Is it? It's easy for me."
Kyle frowned. It was easy for Stan to like girls because he did like girls. Kyle wouldn't say he was gay, knowing Cartman would never let him hear the end of it, but he didn't like girls at all
"You know, I heard Butters has a crush on Kenny," said Kyle and he doesn't know why the fuck he said it. He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth.
"Really? Who told you?" Stan asked.
"Uh, I just heard." Butters told him. Kyle felt bad enough about spilling Butters' secret, but he wanted Stan's reaction.
"That makes sense, I guess-"
"God damn it, Stan!" Randy shouted from his bedroom, making both Stan and Kyle jump. "GO the hell to sleep!"
"Asshole," Stan muttered. "Night, Kyle."
Stan pulled the blanket over the two of them and closed his eyes.
Kyle laid awake, staring at the ceiling.
I'm a fucking idiot.
"This is so fucking stupid," Kenny said as Cartman pulled himself up into Kyle's window. He fell into his room, landing hard on his knee.
"AH! Son of a bitch. Hurry up Kenny! Youre so slow, Kenny!"
Cartman knew whatever Kyle was writing about he didn't want anyone else to know about it. Kyle didn't want to help him with his writing project? Fine! Cartman would get back at that asshole.
Once Kenny managed to get into Kyle's room he asked, "what are we looking for?"
"A blue composition notebook," said Cartman.
Cartman looked in Kyle's dressing drawers while Kenny looked in his closet.
In one of the drawers Cartman found a red notebook. He flipped to the first page. It was some gay story about some kids named Karl and Steve.
"I found it!" Kenny said.
Cartman quickly snatched the notebook from Kenny's hands. It read: the love story of Kyle and Stan Karl and Steve.
"Holy shit, Kenny."