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It’s a spring night in South Park, cold and cloudy, when Kyle Broflovski finally opens a letter that’s been sitting on his desk for a couple days now.
He’d found it in the mail after school last Thursday, his name written on the envelope from California, more specifically Stanford. His heart had skipped a beat and he hid it underneath his shirt and raced up to his room after greeting his Mom. There it had sat on his desk, from Thursday to now Saturday night.
He should be excited , it was the big envelope. The one that says CONGRATULATIONS! and comes with all of the information he’d need for orientation and housing and move in dates.
Instead, he felt dread. Because now he’d have to tell his mom. And dad and Ike and Kenny. And Stan . Stan, who no matter how much he tries to hide it, is devestatingly sad that Kyle may not be going to Denver community with the rest of them. He caught him listening to The Smiths the other day, it’s pretty bad.
So he hasn’t opened it yet. If he doesn’t open it, he will simultaneously be accepted and not accepted. Schodinger’s college acceptance letter. But now, here he sits in his bed, letter opener he stole from his dad’s office in one hand and big envelope in the other. Because he has to open it. Maybe he’s wrong, maybe the big envelope is for rejected students with a banner that says WE’RE SORRY on the inside as an apology gift.
He opens it slowly, sliding the blade along the top to make a clean line. He sets the opener down on his desk and looks down at the open thing before taking out the stack of papers and with baited breath he reads the first page.
CONGRATULATIONS! is the first word, bold and italicized, his name tabbed underneath to start the first sentence. He doesn’t read on, setting the stack next to him.
His hand covers his mouth and he’s staring down at his blanket, not knowing if he might cry. He can feel the well up in his eyes and heaviness of his throat. He closes his eyes and lets out a muffled and strained sob that he quickly swallows back into himself. He can feel the warm tears slide down onto his hand and he brings his other one to his face, bringing his legs up to his chest to lean his forehead on.
They’re happy tears, in a way. All of the AP classes and all nighters fueled by stress and coffee and Tweek’s adderall and nights out with his friends and parties missed was worth it, because he’d gotten in to Stanford.
But he was mostly sad. Because now he’d miss most if not all nights out with his friends, he’d spend more nights up until 4 in the morning just to go to an 8am lecture and he’d do it alone . Kenny wouldn’t be at his nearest gas station to give him free redbulls, he wouldn’t have Wendy to come help him study just so she could tell him something she’d heard around school and turn the next 10 minutes into a gossip session, and he wouldn’t have Stan . Stan, who would make him flash cards and knew how to calm him down when he’d start stressing about a test and would sit and play video games just so he’d have another body in his room. Stan, who despite public perception of being the one who needed Kyle, Kyle needed just as much.
He wiped his eyes and dragged his hands down his face. He looked at the clock in his room, big hand on the 1 and then glanced to his acceptance letter. He got off his bed, grabbing the papers and putting them in his desk drawer. He grabbed his jacket and the shoes at the foot of his bed before quietly making his way down the stairs. He turned to his kitchen and grabbed the wedged phone in the wall and typed in Stan’s number, something he’s known by heart since the 4th grade. It rung a couple times before a voice answered.
“Hello?” Stan’s voice was deep and groggy and Kyle didn’t even feel all that bad he’d woken him up.
“Hey dude,” Kyle greeted in a hushed tone, staying as quiet as possible, “Wanna hang at Stark’s pond?” And even though it’s a question Kyle doesn’t say it like one.
“It’s 1 in the morning.” Stan whines.
“C’mon, I have something to tell you.” Kyle dragged out the last bit in a sing songy voice.
“Just tell me over the phone.” Stan says this but Kyle can hear the staticky and muffled sound of his blanket rustle as he sits up from lying down.
“That wouldn’t be fun.” Kyle says and he’s smiling to himself without purpose as Stan yawns on the other end.
“See you in second.” And Kyle knows the annoyance in his voice is something he put on, not something felt.
“See you in second.” Kyle responds and he wonders if Stan can hear the smile on his face. He hopes not, that would be kind of embarrassing. He hangs up the phone and tip toes over to the door, each step taken never fully on the heel to avoid making noise. He grabs his keys from the hook next to the light switch and opens the door just enough to get his body through, closing it softly from the outside and locking it again.
He looks over and right next door Stan exits his house, bundled into a hoodie and wearing the sweatpants he more than likely fell asleep in, and full bedhead out and now long enough to cover his ears from the cold. Kyle walked over to where he stood on the sidewalk, hands cupped around his mouth, taking them away to rub them together to keep warm.
“Where are your gloves?” Kyle asked as he walked up. Stan rolled his eyes and said “My dad used them and got a shit ton of holes in it somehow. I think he was digging through a bush or something but they’re ruined.”
“You only have one pair?” Kyle asked incredulously as they walked off to Stark’s pond.
“It’s not like I need to wash them all that often, I can reuse them pretty much every day for a couple months, I didn’t see a need for more.” Stan shrugged it off and put his hands in his hoodie pockets while Kyle stared at him in horror.
“Every couple of months? ” The frown on his face and wrinkle in his nose a compliment to the pure disgust in his now falsettoed and pinched voice. The abhorrence kept him rooted in place. Stan turned around with a look of confusion.
“It’s not like they smell.” And Kyle gasps, completely out of control of it leaving his mouth.
“Stanely Randall William Marsh, please tell me you’re pulling my leg.”
“Did you just say ‘pulling my leg’ unironically?” Stan says in response, which gives Kyle all he needs.
“GERMS!” Kyle wails in desperation, “You touch so many surfaces in one day, Stan. Desks that other high schoolers touch with germs they’ve collected throughout the day.” Stan rolls his eyes and takes his hands out of his pocket just to cross his arms at him.
“It’s clearly never been a problem, I’m not sick and neither are you .” Stan says pointedly which makes Kyle drag his hands down his face with the terrible realization of
“Oh G-d I’ve let you touch me with those gloves.” And he genuinely shivers and he thinks Stan can hear him gag involuntarily.
“You are the most overdramatic person I have ever met, you know that?” Stan shakes his head and resumes walking toward Stark’s pond.
“First you don’t wash your face and now this ?” Kyle prattles on, following him, “Next you’re gonna tell me you don’t use conditioner.” Kyle side eyes him and Stan rolls his eyes, again. It’s something he does more and more as they get older and Kyle gets more and more neurotic.
“I use conditioner, I kinda need too.” Stan kinda mumbles, pushing his now bleached hair out of his face.
“Oh yeah, I guess that’s true.” Kyle comments, looking at it. The roots are starting to grow in, the black strands standing out against the pale yellow of the rest of his hair. It looks good, surprisingly. Kyle had been against the idea when Stan brought it up earlier in the year but he can admit when he’s wrong, at least to himself.
The walk to Stark’s pond was full of Kyle asking about Stan’s hygiene and subsequently being terrified of the answers his best friend of more than a decade gave.
“My view of you is changed forever.” Kyle said with a 1,000 yard stare when the two arrived to the still frozen over pond.
“I think you’re just a little too into hygiene.” Stan sighed in exasperation, looking at Kyle, “Now that we’re done with that .” He said, walking over to the bench that overlooked the mountain landscape, and sitting down, Kyle mirroring his steps, the two facing each other on the bench, Stan has a leg up and to his chest and Kyle sits with a leg sitting up and bent as a place for his hands to rest. “What’d you want to talk about?”
“Well, I uh…” Kyle trailed off, moving his eyes to Stan’s hand that pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his hoodie pocket. Kyle made a face of judgment to match his unamused, “Really?”
“You just berated me for 10 minutes and now we’re about to have a talk ,” Stan emphasized the word, cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth, “It’s a stress reliever.” He pats down his pockets, assumedly looking for the lighter that sits next to his shoe. Kyle picks it up, and takes his turn at rolling his eyes.
“You’re gonna burn that unkempt, overgrown hair if you don’t move it out of the way.” Kyle says and leans forward with a cupped hand. He doesn’t really have any wind to block, but it’s a habit. Stan plays along and holds his hair back; this is a dance they’ve perfected. Kyle lights his cigarette with “You know one of these days I won’t be here to light it for you and you run the risk of lighting your hair on fire and burning it all off, especially with all of that bleach,” He leans away as the cigarette is properly lit, “Maybe you should just quit so you don’t have to deal with that.”
“Maybe I should.” Stan responds, just as he always does, taking a drag off of his cigarette. They sit in silence for a little. It’s not entirely comfortable, Kyle is tense and Stan is eyeing him but saying nothing as the burning end of his cigarette gets shorter and shorter.
“So I uh,” Kyle starts, fidgeting with his hands, “I got my letter in the mail.” Kyle is looking away from Stan and chances a quick look before looking away, not able to make note of his expression, “From Stanford.” Kyle looks at him fully, and he doesn’t know how he said it but Stan looks interested, if not a little apprehensive. He takes a final hit from the cigarette before crushing it against the bottom of the bench, letting it drop into the dirt beneath them.
“What’d it say?” And his voice is so small. Kyle can tell he’s trying not to let any emotion effect what he says, but he knows Stan all too well. Just a look into his eyes and he’s given away. He’s a pool of nerves and a brace for impact, there’s some kind of anticipation in the way his hands now clasp as his knee, a knowing in the way his mouth trembles.
“I didn’t get in.” Kyle doesn’t realize he’s lying until he says it. He’s shocked by how easy it left him, but smiles a little, knowing Stan would have missed him that badly, it makes something in him happy. Even if he did just lie.
“I’m sorry, dude.” Stan says and he does sound sympathetic and to an untrained eye, he’d seem nothing but. Kyle, however, notices the way he sits a little taller, and sees his hands relax from their vice grip they had on his leg.
“It’s ok.” Kyle brushes it off, “I can get my GEs out of the way,” He says and continues, “Plus by the time I’m done Ike will be in high school and closer to getting his licsence and I’ll have enough to get my own car and a steady job to save up for an apartment or something.” And he’s convinced himself now. He’s staying, he’s attending Denver community.
“We can find one together,” Stan says, tapping Kyle’s leg with his foot, “Like we’ve always talked about.” And it makes Kyle smile, the thought of the two of them living together in some city, maybe Denver, maybe somewhere warmer, maybe somewhere in the east. And Stan smiles with him, small and shy, like Kyle isn’t quite supposed to see it. He thinks his is much the same.
“That sounds nice.” Kyle admits like a secret, voice hushed even if it’s just the two of them.
“I’m glad we’ll be together.” Stan admits his own, and Kyle doesn’t know if he’s referring to his rejection letter or the shared living space but he agrees either way. “Did your mom say anything when you told her?”
“I actually haven’t told her, yet.” Kyle says and he thinks about if he should keep with the lie, because even if he’s staying he did get in, but he couldn’t tell his parents he’s staying in South Park for what? A boy? He blushes, “You’re actually the first person I told.” And Stan lights up a little at that.
“Really?” He asks like he’s been given an honor, like he just won an award.
“Of course,” Kyle says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “Who else would I possibly tell before you?” He asks like the notion of telling his mom before him was the most ridiculous thing to think. Stan has a weird expression on his face, its something Kyle has only seen a couple time before, wildly unreadable.
“Can I tell you something?” Stan says and he’s suddenly very nervous, which makes Kyle nervous.
“Yeah dude, what’s up?” Kyle leans a little closer, subconsciously. Stan leans forward too, and he speaks softly, hushed, “I think I’m bisexual.” And he shakes his head a little, “ I am bisexual.” He corrects, and Kyle short circuits a little. Because Kyle hadn’t thought the sentence would ever come out of Stan’s mouth. Kyle, he was more obvious with it, between his cleanliness and lack of girlfriend for the past 4 years the only thing that kept people from actually knowing was Kyle saying it out loud. Stan, with on again off again girlfriend since the 4th grade who reuses underwear before washing it, well it was never even an idea to ask the question. But here he is, telling Kyle as confidently as a closeted person could, that he’s bi.
“Oh.” Is all Kyle stupidly says and Stan leans back, picking at this nails and looking away from Kyle.
“Sorry, I just thought since you told me something I should say something and I just kind of said it, I don’t really know what I was thinking.” Stan says quickly and not with enough breaths in between. Kyle leans toward him more and claps his hands into his own, an act he’s actively shaking while doing because he can’t believe he’s doing this.
“Stan, hey, it’s ok.” And Stan looks down at their hands, leaving his head tilted, Kyle lifts up his right hand and lifts his chin so he’s looking at him, “ You’re ok.” And Stan must get what Kyle is trying to communicate because he closes the small distance between them and gently kisses him. It’s soft and timid and hesitant and Kyle kisses back, a bit harder, his hand wrapping to the back of Stan’s head to keep him close. Kyle pulls away first, looking at Stan, who’s eyes still stay closed, mouth slightly open. He opens his eyes and looks at Kyle’s.
“ Oh .” Stan breaths out and Kyle chuckles and lets his hand fall to his shoulder. “That was…”
“Gay?” Kyle says just as he would describe doing something stupid and Stan laughs.
“Yeah, yeah it was pretty gay.” He pushes one of Kyle’s curls from his face, “But I kind of want to do it again.”
“Nobody’s stopping you.” Kyle invites and he kisses him again, this time with much more fervor, his hand on Kyle’s face finding place in his hair. Kyle smiles into the kiss after a couple seconds. It makes Stan do the same and they laugh. Kyle pecks him a couple of times before pulling away.
“Aren’t you glad you got out of bed?” Kyle teases and Stan rolls his eyes with fondness and a now ever present smile.
“I guess.” He gets up, “But now that you mention it.” He yawns and Kyle can feel his eyes drop with the same drowsiness.
“Yeah,” Kyle yawns in response, “Let’s get back.” He gets up and Stan slips his hand into Kyle’s and looks at him with a bit of unease, like maybe he’s doing the wrong thing. Kyle squeezes his hand and lets it rest easy in Stan’s. They walk back in a kind of silence, their own minds going a million miles a second enough noise for the both of them.
Stanford be damned, Stan is holding his hand and kissed him, Denver Community it is. ‘ For this’ ’ Kyle looks down at their interlocked fingers and up at Stan, who’s started talking to fill the silence, ‘ for this’.