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It was never a weird thing for the boys to share a bed during sleep-overs at Stan’s house. Excluding Eric, of course, who did not fit on the bed with the other three.
Eric’s shrill voice grumbling slurs at them like a monster underneath Stan’s bed was par for the course, as was him simultaneously trying to provoke Stan and Kyle into arguments with other insults and incendiary statements. Kyle, infamous for his temper and love of the sound of his own voice, often took the bait. Kenny and Stan typically ignored them.
Kenny was always the first to fall asleep, blissed out on central heating and a bug-free mattress, and the view outside of Stan’s bedroom window of a backyard that didn’t have a makeshift meth lab in it. He laid on his back, mouth open and arms sprawled over the edge of the bed, until Sharon made her rounds to tuck them in. She took extra care to wrap Kenny snugly in Stan’s comforter and wish them all sweet dreams, leaving the door cracked to let the hallway light in less and less as the boys got older. Once wrapped up tightly in Stan’s comforter, Kenny would curl up against Kyle’s side, and Kyle responded by draping arm protectively over his sleeping frame.
Kyle was the best cuddler of the four of them by a mile, since his brother was the littlest; Ike still often crept into his room at night for comfort when he was scared or lonely, something that happened nearly every night by the time the boys were in middle school, as Sheila separated from and inevitably divorced Gerald. Ike had never clung to Kyle so much, and Kyle was determined to be the man of the house for his little family. It made sleepovers with all four of them more of a rarity.
Stan had never clung to Kyle so much than during those times. Mostly because his friend needed the support; it wasn’t good for Kyle to always be taking care of everyone, but not being cared for in return. But it was also just because Stan didn’t want things to change between them. Because each passing day, it seemed, they drifted further apart- age and maturity severing intimate bonds only best friends since birth could form. And it broke Stan’s heart a little. And it brought out something very childish in Stan- a version of him that only Kyle really knew, and that always brought out the equivalent in himself.
It happened the same way every time- always after Kenny and Eric had knocked out.
Stan had his own blanket. He laid on the side closest to the wall next to the window, the chill from outside emanating from the frosty glass. He’d shiver and shake until he caved and reached for Kyle, wrapping his arms tightly around the boy’s left arm without asking if he could. He didn’t have to ask; they were super best friends.
Kyle usually didn’t even look away from whatever book he was reading when it happened. If Stan was awoken by the sound of a page turning or by the flashlight shining in his face, he would just take the offending items from Kyle and set them neatly on the windowsill in one swift motion, not opening his eyes to see the look of disapproval on Kyle’s face. He’d then wrap his arms fully about Kyle’s torso, push him downward into bed, and hold him tightly for the few moments he squirmed before he finally gave up and attempted to sleep. They’d be found every morning, sleeping like the dead, limbs tangled and cheeks pressed together.
It wasn’t weird for them to do this… until it really was, when you think about it. Because by 14, they were all too tall and lanky to fit on any bed anymore, let alone to share one with somebody else.
Kenny knew this, and slowly transitioned to a sleeping bag next to Eric on the floor.
Kyle knew this, and attempted to do the same.
But somehow, Stan didn’t get the memo. Or maybe he did, but it didn’t bother him, because he didn’t read it.
“Kyle…” Stan whined, letting one of his arms fall over the side of the bed. His fingertips easily grazed the top of Kyle’s curls.
Kyle didn’t flinch, eyes fixated on the book in front of him. Inwardly, though, he was annoyed at having his inner monologue interrupted by Stan’s whining. His friends never let him read about epistemology in peace, and they were going to drive him nuts before he ever got the chance to be a psychologist like he wanted.
Stan’s brows furrowed in annoyance at Kyle’s lack of response. He reached down further until his fingers touched Kyle’s scalp, pausing there for a moment, as he pondered what he could do to break his focus. He settled for massaging circles into his head in that way he hated- that way that made his leg jerk, like a dog getting a good scratch.
He howled like a dog, too, as he frantically swatted Stan away to get him to stop, shivers going down his spine. Stan giggled stupidly under his breath at getting the attention he wanted.
“Dude, what do you want? Just go to sleep already!” Kyle spat, trying and failing to keep his voice down.
Shelley didn’t miss a beat before she was pounding her fist against the wall, obscenities muffled by the insulation. It was her fifth time that night of telling them to shut up so she could get some sleep before class in the morning. Stan stopped laughing and glared at Kyle, shushing him. Kyle’s eyes widened maddeningly, his pale cheeks burning bright red. Stan knew how to get under his skin even better than Kenny did- he just never really got the chance to be the annoying one, since he was always trying to calm Kyle down after Eric seriously pissed him off.
“I can’t sleep. I’m cold.” Stan murmured pitifully, but his voice was quickly muffled by Kyle shoving a plaid throw blanket into his face.
Stan pulled it off just as quickly as it made contact and reached for Kyle, successfully latching his hand around his wrist before he could pull away. Kyle struggled for a moment, trying to make his wrist go lax so he could escape Stan’s death grip, to no avail. He threw his head back and groaned and Stan smugly grinned.
When Kyle opened his eyes again, dark brown irises meeting Stan’s own light blue ones, he was greeted with the most pathetic pouty look Stan could muster, batting his eyelashes cartoonishly to boot.
Kyle’s mind went blank, staring at Stan skeptically before he realized what his friend was asking for. A blush crept up onto his cheeks again, instantly badgered by auditory hallucinations of the heckling that was sure to come from Eric and Kenny when they found them cuddling in the morning; they had no shortage of gay jokes for their two overly affectionate friends.
But Kyle’s demeanor softened when he glanced over his shoulder to find the two having long fallen asleep in their respective sleeping bags.
Eric knew it.
Kenny knew it.
And Kyle knew it was weird for them to cuddle at this age.
But Stan seemed totally oblivious, and they both had a very obvious soft spot for each other.
The taller boy ushered himself into bed as quietly as he could, Stan’s arms immediately snaking around his waist, nestling his forehead in the crook of Kyle’s neck as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Kyle relaxed into Stan’s touch, feeling the other’s warmth seep into his own skin. He could feel that he was tired- the ache in his muscles, the bags under his eyes, throbbing temples- but even then, he couldn’t sleep. He was always restless, even as a small child. He apparently never grew out of that fear of missing out that causes toddler sleep regression. And his insomnia was only made worse by the fact that he could just never shut up- never stop thinking about anything and everything.
Stan, as neurotic as he could sometimes be, was usually asleep within seconds of getting the cuddles he demanded from Kyle, and clung onto him like dead weight, getting drool on his shoulder.
Kyle closed his eyes and waited for that gross wet feeling to permeate his skin, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He did like this feeling… no, not of the drool- of being needed. It was something that often got him into trouble, like with most of his past crushes: Rebecca, Leslie, and, most sorely, Heidi... But it was nice when it didn’t. Because above all, Kyle is a protector. He loves that he was Stan’s oldest and closest friend and that he still uses him as a security blanket to soothe him to sleep at times.
But Stan wasn’t sleeping.
Kyle had had enough sleepovers with him to know when he was truly asleep. But for some reason, Stan was just pretending- and this fact put an abrupt end to Kyle’s stream of consciousness. He rested a hand gingerly on Stan’s head to comfort him, but this only caused the other to stiffen. He could feel Stan’s heart pounding against his own chest, as they lay flush against each other. And Stan’s head was burning hot suddenly, as though he had a nasty fever.
Kyle was alarmed. But he didn’t pry. If Stan had something eating him, Kyle would just wait. Because Stan always runs straight to Kyle whenever he has a problem. A lot of people do that, actually. Even his mom did it, now that his dad was out of the picture.
So Kyle paced his own breathing, trying to lead by example and calm Stan down. He rubbed little circles into his scalp the way he liked- the kind that made him go limp, like a cat being scruffed.
Stan’s breath hitched in his throat. He balled his fists into the fabric of Kyle’s pajama shirt and clenched his eyes shut even tighter.
Kyle was confused as to why the usual stuff wasn’t working.
But Stan was a million times more confused.
And he was suddenly so very, very nauseous.
He sucked his lips in to vacuum-seal his mouth, not wanting to puke on Kyle less than two minutes after incessantly pestering and literally begging him to cuddle with him in his bed. That was just plain rude. He had to make it to the five minute mark, at least.
Stan’s stomach churned again as Kyle shifted, his hand trailing downward from his head and resting against the small of his back, sending shivers down his spine.
His face was very, very hot.
“Are you sick?” Kyle finally blurted out, pulling Stan back at arm’s length. He brought the back of his free hand to rest against Stan’s forehead, which was now damp with sweat. But his skin was so hot, that sweat was practically evaporating into thin air as soon as it left his pores. Kyle’s gaze bored into his own, his eyes were so dark brown that they looked nearly black, compared to his soft red hair and his pale, freckled skin.
Had Kyle always been… handsome?
“Hello…? Earth to Stan…” he murmured from his soft, supple lips.
Wait… his…
… Huh?
Kyle let out a huff of irritation. Stan’s eyes were glazed over like he was daydreaming and Kyle hates being ignored. He moved both of his hands to rest on either of Stan’s cheeks, gently yet firmly coaxing his head upward, so they’d meet eye to eye.
“Answer me.”
Stan nearly jumped out of his skin. Kyle’s hands were soft and warm against his already burning hot cheeks. He meekly shook his head no and turned his head sharply to the left, staring at his windowsill like it was the most interesting thing in the world, and pretending like the sudden movement wasn’t enough to make him hurl all over it. He prayed for Kyle to let go of his face, but that didn’t happen. In fact, Kyle’s grip tightened as he turned Stan back to face him again.
“What’s wrong, man? You’re acting…” he bit his lip as he chose his words carefully; he was working on being more sensitive to people’s feelings. “I’m worried about you.” he decided, opting to not shift blame onto Stan for whatever he was going through, and trying to be as non-judgmental as possible.
Stan didn’t hear a word he said though. He intently watched when Kyle bit his lip. He was staring so closely at it that he could see every tiny crease that formed as a result of his teeth pressing against it. His heart fluttered wildly in his chest, his own hand releasing his grip on the fabric of Kyle’s shirt, and trailing upward to rest on his chin. His heart beat even faster. He was seeing stars like Wile E. Coyote after getting dunked on with an anvil by Roadrunner.
He had always been a little confused about his feelings toward other guys, sure. He had noticed stuff like this before, and there was a pattern to it; it was always someone he didn’t know very well and rarely ever even spoke with, someone slightly older…
But that was with other guys. Kyle wasn’t that.
He’s just… Kyle. He doesn’t fit the bill.
Stan had never seen Kyle in this light before. And he couldn’t figure out why to save his life.
Kyle didn’t even flinch as Stan’s face inched closer and closer to his own, until he rested on one of Kyle’s cheeks. Their mouths were centimeters apart. Kyle’s lips were slightly parted and released methodical, warm breaths onto Stan’s. Stan kept his feelings of panic and confusion at bay, reminding himself over and over again, that this was just Kyle.
It wasn’t Scott Tenorman or Mark Cotswolds.
Stan opened his mouth slightly, so he could feel Kyle’s breaths on his tongue. Their noses were touching now.
It wasn’t Michael or Pete Thelman.
His eyelids fluttered shut and the hairs on the back of his neck spiked.
He was reveling in this.
But.. this was just Kyle.
It didn’t mean anything.
Even if Kyle liked guys, too, he wouldn’t want to date his best friend. So it was okay to just enjoy stuff like this sometimes, right? Wasn’t it okay to just think his friend is handsome? Why wouldn’t it be? If it’s okay to think Wendy’s friend Bebe is pretty, then why can’t he think his own friend Kyle is handsome?
As he pondered this, little moments of intimacy they shared with each other on a daily basis flooded Stan’s mind. His shoulders slunk downward, and he hung his head just as their lips were about to touch.
Was he… a creep? Was he violating Kyle’s boundaries?
Not once, ever in his life, did he think about Kyle in a romantic way. And now, all of a sudden, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop thinking about how they held hands when they were walking to their bus stop until they were in third grade. His taste buds stung with the sour taste of the dozens of lollipops and jolly ranchers they shared. They had even kissed before- for “practice,” at Stan’s request- when he was working up the nerve to kiss Wendy for the first time. He remembered how he enjoyed it a little too much, and kept pretending to be insecure and sad, so Kyle would keep kissing and reassuring him that he was good at it and that he would do great (He did not do great, and if Stan had to give Wendy a dollar every time he vomited on that poor girl, she’d be rich enough to pay for medical school).
Worst of all, Stan couldn’t stop thinking about just the other day when they were changing together after P.E. He just couldn’t stop staring, and he didn’t know why. He couldn’t stop admiring Kyle’s muscles, which were getting more defined, since he joined the basketball team with Craig and his goons.
Stan was utterly mortified as he remembered telling Kyle how great he looked no less than five times, his heart swelling with pride as Kyle went from bashful to confident and accepting of the praise. He thought he was just stroking his friend’s ego. He’d done it a thousand times- Kyle was always a little self-conscious about everything. But in his heart of hearts, Stan knew that time was different.
He wasn’t doing it for Kyle.
…Oh, god.
He was totally a creep. And he was creeping on Kyle- the straightest, most oblivious guy he knows. The guy who is so secure in his heterosexuality that he felt literally nothing even when he was literally kissing another guy. The hopeless romantic guy who wants to marry his first girlfriend and have five kids and live happily ever after with her?
Oh, GOD. His girlfriend. His lovely, sweet, doting girlfriend. The one that made he and Kenny cry tears of joy that he was FINALLY able to pull, ending his terrible luck with girls once and for all.
Was Stan… betraying her trust? Was he betraying Kyle’s trust?
Why did it have to be Kyle? And why did it have to be the one and only time he finally has a girlfriend?
Kyle was going to hate Stan when he found out, and oh, he would find out. Kyle is the Rosetta Stone of Stan. He knows what’s going on with Stan before Stan does.
He knows what’s going on with Stan before Stan does.
Stan’s heart stopped as the realization dawned on him.
“Oh, Jesus. I’m s-so sorry, man…” he whimpered through quivering lips, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. The floodgates had been opened though. There he was, at 3 am on a Sunday morning, bawling his eyes out in front of his friend, who he is now suddenly pretty sure was completely unwittingly his sexual awakening.
Kyle was full-on panicking, eyes as wide as an owl’s. He prayed Kenny and Eric didn’t wake up. He feared what would happen if Shelley woke up. Desperately, he pulled Stan back against his chest and wrapped him in his tightest, coziest, most loving bear hug.
“S-Stan… please,” he started, stroking the back of his neck. “It’s okay! Whatever it is, it’s okay. I forgive you. Don’t worry about it!”
Stan went rigid for a moment before his body was once again wracked with sobs.
“I love you so much…” he cried hoarsely, cupping his hands over his eyes, thoroughly humbled and humiliated all at once. He shrank away from Kyle’s touch and curled in on himself, trying his very best to keep his voice down.
“Stan.” Kyle stated, sitting up, and bringing Stan up with him by the shoulders. “I love you too, and I have no idea what you’re talking about.” he sighed honestly, brows furrowed in concern for his friend.
Maybe he really was sick and this was some kind of cold-induced delirium. Maybe Stan was apologizing for exposing him to the virus.
“Look. Whatever it is, it’s okay. I promise. So… please, stop crying.”
“You… you don’t know?” Stan asked tentatively between sobs.
“No, I really don’t. Are you… having a night terror or something?”
“Y-yeah. That makes sense.”
Stan nearly choked on a sigh of relief. It felt like his face was being taken out of an oven as Kyle once again pulled it back against his neck.
“It’s okay.” he soothed, warm breaths now caressing the back of Stan’s ear. “I’m here, and whatever scared you isn’t going to happen. I promise.”
Stan sighed again, relaxing against Kyle’s familiar touch.
“You promise, Kyle?” he whispered, eyes wide, threatening to spill his tears again.
“I promise, Stan.”
Stan sniffled through his sheepish smile- like the look of a little kid who got a new ice cream cone to replace the one he dropped.
“But… there’s just so much I’m confused about. I don’t know what to do… I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t want anybody to hate me or think I’m weird.”
“You don’t have to know. You can’t solve all your life’s problems in one night.” Kyle placated him, continuing to stroke his shaggy black hair. “Nobody really knows what they’re doing.” he paused, resting his chin on Stan’s head.
He silently reflected on his own situation with his family; the nights he spent being his mom’s shoulder to cry on, trying to help her do her taxes and touch up on her resume, and just adjust to a life without the husband she thought she’d grow old with. He thought about all the mistakes he was probably making in having to help parent his six year old little brother. His stomach panged with guilt momentarily. But he digressed.
“We’re all just doing our best.” he said thoughtfully, giving Stan a gentle squeeze. “And we’re all weird. And I’ll never hate you. And Kenny will never hate you, and your mom and even your sister will never hate you. And Wendy doesn’t even hate you; she’s just confused, too. She’s going to ask you out again next week, and you know it.”
Stan chuckled a little. Her turnaround times for breakups of late was, indeed, 5-7 business days.
“We all love you, Stan. I’ll always love you.”
“Always no matter what?” Stan asked hopefully.
“Always no matter what. I promise.”
Swollen, purple eyelids finally fell heavily over bloodshot blue irises. Stan had gone through all the stages of grief in the span of maybe ten minutes, and between that and recently being dumped by Wendy (for the 40th time), coming to terms with his sexuality, and the Saturday night they’d just spent combing the abandoned K-Mart like the Paris catacombs and pushing each other around in shopping carts, he was completely spent.
Relief washed over Kyle as he finally felt Stan slumped against him like usual, falling in and out of sleep every few minutes. He was so thankful that he finally managed to calm him down. He was used to his friend being a little more emotional than him, but this was something he didn’t think he’d really seen from him before.
It just goes to show that even if you know someone their whole life, they can still surprise you, because people are always changing.
Yeah. That would make for a good “I learned something today,” speech, Kyle decided with a smile.
He guided Stan’s sleeping frame tenderly back down against the pillows. Stan clung to Kyle’s chest even in his sleep for a good hour and a half or so, before he fell even deeper into it, and finally loosened his grip. Kyle rolled over onto his back to get a breath of fresh air (Stan was like a space heater when he was asleep). He glanced down at Kenny on the floor, curled up in his sleeping bag, holding a body pillow. His forehead was pressed against it, like how he used to lay against Kyle’s side when they were younger. Kyle then rolled his head off to his left to look at Stan, sleeping peacefully on his own for once.
Things were changing. And he’d stick with his friends through all of those changes, just like they’re sticking with him now. He loved Kenny and Stan so much.
He even loved Karen and Kevin, and Sharon and Shelley, too.
And Eric… was certainly around them often.
He’d love them always, no matter what.