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That morning started unlike any other. Usually punctual Stan Marsh had run late, a text from his on-off-again girlfriend distracting him until his mom had practically forced a slice of burnt toast into his mouth and pushed him out the door to catch the bus.
“What do you think Wendy meant?” Kyle asked, rising slightly to peer at the girl from behind the many rows of seats that separated them.
“Who the fuck cares?” Cartman scoffed, rolling his eyes. He was munching on a bag of Cheesy Poofs, orange dust coating everything. Kyle shot him a disgusted look before returning his attention to Stan. He leaned closer, peering at the text again over Stan’s shoulder, close enough that his warm breath tickled Stan’s cheek.
Stan didn’t mind.
“Dude, I don’t know,” he said hopelessly. He hadn’t stopped staring at the message since he’d taken his seat. It taunted him with its confusing meaning that Stan couldn’t decipher:
It’s OK, Stan. I understand now x
“Why not just ask her?” Kenny suggested, voice muffled behind his parka. He, too, peered at Wendy across the row of seats. She wasn’t paying them any attention, her head pressed against Bebe Stevens as the two girls whispered together.
Stan was horrified. “I can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
He didn’t have an answer to that, so Stan just pouted, returning his attention to the message in his hand. It might as well have been in a different language for all Stan understood. Wendy had broken up with him a couple of weeks ago—Stan didn’t know what he’d done, but she had been quite upset. Maybe her message meant she forgave him? Maybe they were about to get back together?
“Hey, dude, she’s looking over here,” Kyle said, nudging him. Stan’s stomach fluttered, and his head shot up, his eyes locking on Wendy’s. She gave a tentative smile and waved before turning quickly away and whispering something to Bebe.
Something tight filled Stan’s chest, and he looked away too.
“I guess she wants to get back together, huh?” Kyle asked.
“I don’t know. Girls are a mystery, man,” Stan said, huffing a sigh. He finally closed the conversation thread only to open it again quickly as another message pinged through.
Today’s assembly is for you. I support you, Stan x
Stan groaned and thrust his phone at Kyle. “What the hell does this mean?”
Eyebrows knotted together, equally as confused, Kyle shook his head. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
“Alright, everyone, listen up!” PC Principal said into his microphone from the bottom of the bleachers. Behind him, Wendy stood before a projector, shuffling through some cue cards. The screen read ‘Celebrate our Asian-American STUDENTS’, further confusing Stan. He shared a bemused look with Kyle. “Today, we’re going to be showing you some art from our Asian-American students—DAMMIT, LESLIE, SHUT YOUR FUCKING PIE-HOLE!” Leslie Meyers, who had not been talking, straightened, startled as PC Principal continued speaking as if nothing had happened. “From our Asian-American students presented by our student-body president, Wendy Testaburger.”
“Dude, what does Asian-American art have to do with you?” Kyle whispered. Stan just shrugged, eyes fixed on Wendy, a sense of budding dread growing in his chest, still tight from earlier.
“Hey, guys,” Wendy started, and Stan swore she sought him out, flashing him a small, supportive smile. “As you know, we have several new students here at South Park Elementary. We have been getting to know some of the Asian girls who have introduced us to an art style called ‘Yaoi’.” Behind her, the screen changed to show the text YAOI. Below it was some Japanese script Stan didn’t understand.
What the fuck was yaoi, and what did it have to do with Stan? Was it just him, or was it getting hot in the gym?
“Yaoi is a blend of emotion and beauty involving two people whose love is looked down upon. The art tries to show that all love is magical, like in Lisa Akimoto’s piece, “Stan and Kyle - Forbidden Love.”
The blood left Stan’s face as, behind Wendy, the slide changed to a drawing of him and Kyle. Kissing.
“Awwww,” the girls in the bleaches chorused.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Kyle hissed. Stan didn’t have any words to respond with. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen, the art…
He swallowed uncomfortably.
“Kelly Zhou goes a bit more whimsical with ‘Stan and Kyle: Moonlight Dance.” The image shifted to Kyle wrapped in a pink bow and blushing while Stan leaned against him, lips near his ear.
“Jesus Christ,” Stan murmured, sinking into his seat and wishing it would swallow him whole. What the fuck was this? What had he done to piss Wendy off so much?
“In yaoi art, the seme, or ‘top’, is usually dominating the uke, or ‘bottom’, as demonstrated in Heather Nishimura’s ‘Boizu Rabu’.”
Okay, Stan wanted to die. The new image showed him standing behind Kyle, hands down his fucking pants, while Kyle blushed and reached behind to stroke his hat.
Why would someone draw this?
Once again, the girls awwed and clapped.
Why? Why couldn’t they see just how uncomfortable Stan was? Stan glanced at Kyle from the corner of his eye, his friend’s tight expression dropping his stomach down into uncharted depths.
“But yaoi can branch out to other things as well...”
“Uh oh,” Cartman giggled, clearly having the time of his life. He smirked as he caught Stan’s eye, and Stan knew the fat bastard would never let them live this down. Kyle especially.
“...as we see here in “Lily, Frog, Stan and Kyle,” Wendy continued.
This time Kyle was on his back, wearing only his unbuttoned orange jacket. Even his hat was missing as Stan straddled him, unfairly fully clothed (although thank fuck for that, Stan couldn’t help his immense relief). His leg was strategically placed to cover Kyle’s modesty, but otherwise, the image left little to the imagination.
“What the fuck?!” Kyle repeated, abruptly standing. His face was as red as the hair hidden beneath his ushanka.
“Sit your butt down, Broflovski!” PC Principal yelled, finger pointing and eyes narrowing until Kyle did just that, also sinking down into his seat. Stan noticed he was purposely avoiding looking at him.
His heart dropped right down with his stomach.
“Kyle,” Stan said, catching up to Kyle after assembly. The other boy couldn’t even look at him; his head kept ducked down, eyes firmly on the floor. His cheeks still burned. “Dude—”
“What was that, Stan?” Kyle interrupted. Despite the fire in his tone, he still couldn’t look up. “Why does Wendy think we’re… like that?”
Gay.
Stan swallowed noisily, mouth feeling suddenly dry. “I—uh, I dunno,” he said. It had never been this awkward talking to Kyle before. What had Wendy done? What had she ruined? “I’m just as confused as you, man!”
“Well, she’s your girlfriend!” Kyle bit back.
Stan held up his hands as if they could shield him from the fire in Kyle’s words. “Whoa, dude. You know she broke up with me. I don’t know why she thinks we’re…” Stan gestured between them hopelessly, “but it has nothing to do with me, man.”
Kyle looked up then, his eyes fierce as they locked with Stan’s. “You need to sort this out. Speak to Wendy. Until then, I can’t… I just…” Kyle didn’t finish speaking. Instead, he just turned, shoulders slumping, and walked away. Stan watched him go, the tightness in his chest contorting.
Stan couldn’t talk to Wendy. He couldn’t bring himself to. He was confused. He didn’t understand why she had done this to him. Did she hate him? Had he done something to hurt her so badly that she felt the need to retaliate?
Stan wasn’t gay. He’d never… He didn’t have thoughts like that! He liked girls! He liked Wendy.
Well, he had liked Wendy. His feelings had turned quite sour since her assembly.
His thoughts shifted back to Kyle. His usually mesmerizing bright green eyes had been so dull. Stan wanted to ignite them again. He wanted to see them shine with the passion he was used to.
If he couldn’t speak to Wendy, maybe he could talk to the Asian girls instead. They were the ones drawing the damn art, after all.
He found them in the lobby, sitting on the stairs as they worked on their art. There had been one of their pieces pinned to the notice board as he’d walked over, and Stan had pulled it down. He held it up to them, a scowl on his face.
“What is this?” he demanded.
“Oh, hi, Stan,” Kelly said casually as if annoyance wasn’t radiating from the boy she was talking to. To the girl on her right, she added something in Asian that Stan couldn’t understand. The girl responded, and then the pair's attention returned to their sketchbooks.
What the fuck?
“Well?” Stan demanded, annoyed. “What did she say?”
It was Heather who responded from several steps above her friends. “I don’t know. That was Korean. I’m Japanese.”
Stan rolled his eyes. “Helpful,” he grunted. Suddenly the hairs on his arms prickled, and Stan tensed as he became aware of another boy approaching. Kyle looked purposefully ahead as he came to a stop next to Stan.
“What is this bullshit?” he demanded. “Why are you drawing us gay? We’re not gay.”
Instead of answering him, the girls just returned to communicating in their respective languages.
Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.
Sitting behind his desk, arms folded, PC Principal’s gaze seemed to burn into Stan from behind his dark shades. Beside him, Mr Mackey lurked, looking as uncomfortable as Stan felt. At least somebody appeared to realise this situation was messed up!
“Alright, guys, I know there have been a lot of rumours flyin’ around. Just wanted to check in, see if you have any questions for me.”
“Why are the Asian girls drawing us gay?” Kyle demanded from the seat next to him.
“What’s wrong with being gay? Nothin’ wrong with that,” PC Pricipal challenged, unbothered by Kyle’s scowl.
“We’re not gay.”
“That is completely irrelevant! Okay? What matters, and the reason I brought you in here, is that you understand affirmative consent.”
“Understand what?” Stan asked weakly. This all felt too much. He’d started his day hoping Wendy would explain why she’d broken up with him. He hadn’t thought he’d be at odd ends with Kyle in the principal’s office while they discussed whether or not they were gay.
“If there is a romantic relationship here, you have to make sure your partner is comfortable with any sexual exploration.”
“Aww awww,” Stan groaned in horror. Beside him, Kyle was gritting his teeth so hard Stan was surprised they hadn’t shattered into a thousand tiny shards.
“Now, in a gay relationship, it gets a little trickier,” PC Principal continued, oblivious, “but you still have to follow some guidelines, alright?”
“But I’m not gay!” Kyle said between his gritted teeth.
“I don’t care about that, bro! Stan, if, and I’m only saying if, at some point, you wanted to touch Kyle’s penis, you can’t just go grabbin’ for it, alright? You need to say something like, ‘Kyle, is it alright with you if I touch your penis?’ Okay? Let’s try it out.”
Stan and Kyle just gawped at him in horror.
“Come on. We haven’t got all day!”
“I… I don’t want to touch anyone’s penis!” Stan said, the horror crawling across his body. He was ten years old, for Christ’s sake. What the hell was wrong with PC Principal?
“You don’t want to touch anyone’s penis right this second, sure,” the principal agreed. “But I’m here to make sure you’re prepared for when you do.”
“I don’t ever want to—” Kyle started to say, disgusted.
PC Principal’s head twisted towards him in almost comedic sharpness. “What’s wrong with touching another man’s penis, yo? You need to check yourself, bro. You want two weeks of detention instead? This shit’s important!” He turned back to Stan, staring at him expectantly.
Feeling his cheeks burning, Stan kept his gaze fixed on the desk as he asked, “Kyle, can I touch your penis?”
“Okay, good. Now, Kyle, you might say, ‘You may touch my penis. I’m comfortable with that’.” The silence was long and torturous until, finally, the principal relented. “Or, of course, you could say, ‘No, you may not touch my penis at this time’.”
“No, you cannot!” Kyle said abruptly, his words clipped.
“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Now, Kyle, what would you say if you wanted to take a gander at Stan’s asshole?”
Stan’s soul left his body.
Stan was lying face down in his bed. He wasn’t sure if he was wallowing or digesting or a bit of both. The day had been… confusing, to say the least. Between Cartman ripping relentlessly on them, Kyle refusing to so much as glance at Stan, and everyone whispering and staring whenever he passed, the day had drained him until he had been tempted to pull out his stash of JD that he’d manage to not think about for the past couple of months.
What was he meant to do? What was he meant to say?
And why was it, while everyone was whispering about him being gay, all Stan could think about was losing Kyle forever and how much that would suck. Kyle was his best friend. His super best friend. They’d been through nearly everything together since kindergarten. He couldn’t lose Kyle.
He couldn’t.
“Hey, bud. How’s it hangin’?” His dad came into the room, perching on the bed. Sometimes his dad could be annoying, but right now, at the height of his confusion, Stan needed him. Rolling over, Stan turned to stare at Randy.
“I’m confused,” he murmured into his pillow.
“Well, you know what? You have a really progressive PC dad who loves you no matter what, bud.”
“But—”
“Your mother and I don’t care if you’re gay, Stan.”
Stan didn’t have the energy to protest it. Instead, he asked hopelessly, “Why did the Asian girls decide I was gay, Dad?”
Randy’s brow furrowed. “The Asians? The Asians decided?”
“Yeah, y’know, with yaoi and stuff…”
“Yaoi? Yeah… yeah, the Asians decide…” Randy murmured before reaching out to ruffle Stan’s hair. “The Asians pick who they pick, Stan, and that’s just how it’s always been, okay? You don’t get to choose this stuff; you just have to accept and love who you are now, okay?”
“But what if—?”
“You love Kyle, right?”
“I guess,” Stan said, chewing on his lip. He did love Kyle. He knew that much. He just… how was he meant to know what kind of love it was? Kyle didn’t make him want to throw up like Wendy, but given the choice, Stan would pick Kyle over her any day.
“It’s all so confusing,” he mumbled.
“I know, bud,” Randy said, squeezing his shoulder. “But you know what? I’m proud to have a gay son. It’s like extra street cred on my PC badge! Tell you what, how would a hundred bucks make you feel? Bet it would turn that frown upside-down, am I right?”
Stan just stared as his dad reached for his wallet.
Days passed, leaving Stan more and more confused. Kyle still wouldn’t look at him. The closest he’d gotten was when they’d both ended side by side, staring at the school and the graffiti it had been vandalised with overnight.
“I don’t even have freckles!” Kyle had burst out furiously, and, for a moment, Stan thought they would share a laugh and go back to normal. Then Kyle turned and walked away, and Stan was left staring at his retreating back and wondering how a little bit of art had ruined things between them so utterly.
My dad talked to me.
He said the Asians have always done shit like this.
Making people gay, y’know?
It’s not our fault dude
Can we just talk??
Stan watched miserably as his latest message received its double tick, marking it as read.
Kyle didn’t respond. There wasn’t so much as the three little dots to suggest he was trying.
“Well fuck you, Kyle,” Stan said miserably to his phone, letting his eyes flutter shut.
Allowing the misery to consume him.
The next day they fought. Stan hadn’t meant it. He’d tried to corner Kyle into talking to him, but Kyle wouldn’t even meet his goddamn eyes, and Stan just… snapped.
“You got a fucking problem, man?” he demanded, shoving Kyle.
“It’s you with the fucking problem!” Kyle responded venomously, shoving back even harder. Stan slammed into the lockers, eyes widening at the sudden pain of it.
“Kyle—”
“Stay the fuck away from me,” Kyle said.
“Oh-ho, come on, you guys. Get a room!” Cartman yelled eagerly from the crowd gathered, watching.
The fire returned to Stan, and he pushed off the lockers, launching himself at Kyle and knocking them both to the ground. They rolled, punching and pinching, each playing as dirty as the other while they tried to hit away their feelings until only the numbness remained.
Blood filled Stan’s mouth as Kyle’s elbow slammed into his lip. Good, Stan thought. I deserve this. We both fucking deserve this.
Stan sat stiffly in his chair, staring defiantly ahead as PC Principal picked up the phone and dialled.
“Hello, Mr Marsh? I need to inform you that your son was in an altercation at school today.” His dad clearly said something as PC Principal nodded despite the other man being unable to see him. “Yes, it was just a lover’s quarrel, nothing to worry about, I’m sure.”
“For fucks sake,” Kyle grumbled beside him. He had a black eye and a scowl on his face.
“Something to be expected in relationships,” PC Principal continued. “Apparently, there were no affirmative consent issues, as your son knows the right way to play with another boy's penis.”
Stan buried his face into his hands, wincing as his fingers caught his split lip. He tasted blood.
“There’s not going to be any disciplinary action since they are gay. We wanna be supportive, so we’re just gonna send them home with some money, alright? Absolutely, that sounds about the right amount. Yes, yes, I agree. Well, alright, you have a nice day, Mr Marsh.”
As they left the office, crisp new fifty-dollar bills in their pockets, Stan called out to Kyle. The other boy paused, but when Stan didn’t immediately say anything, he kept walking, not turning back to look at him.
Stan sighed. This was all going too far.
He didn’t know how to fix it.
He didn’t know if he could.
“Wendy.”
“Oh, hey, Stan.” Wendy’s smile was radiant. If Stan could notice that, then he couldn’t be gay, could he? “What’s up?”
Stan crossed his arms, trying to hold himself together. “Why are you doing this?”
His ex-girlfriend frowned. “Doing what?”
“Why did you hold an assembly to tell everyone I was gay?”
“Oh!” Wendy’s eyes widened in realisation. “I was just trying to be supportive, you know? Of both the art and the subjects.”
“But I’m not gay!”
“Stan,” Wendy reached out, touching his arm pityingly. “It’s okay. You don’t need to lie to me anymore. I admit it was a shock when I first found out, and I was hurt for a time. But I reflected and bettered myself, noticing how obvious it had all been in retrospect. I realise now that you have both loved each other for a very long time, and I could never compare, so now I just want you to be happy, okay?”
“But I’m not happy!”
It was obvious in retrospect.
Was it?
But they weren’t in love. So it couldn’t be.
…Could it?
Concern spread across Wendy’s face, and she squeezed his arm. “Stan, is everything okay between you and Kyle? You’re not fighting, are you?”
Stan felt like the bruises on his face were enough to answer that, but before he could snap at Wendy, a thought occurred to him: a brilliant, wonderful thought that could fix everything!
He could make things better. He could make Kyle happy again!
“Wendy, I need to go!” Stan practically yelled over his shoulder, sprinting away.
It only took a moment for Kyle’s front door to be opened. Mrs Broflovski stared down at him, and Stan clenched his fists to hide his nerves, expecting the worst. Kyle’s mom had always been terrifying and, faced with what the town believed, who knew how she would react to Stan standing at her front door. Unexpectedly, however, Mrs Broflovski offered a bright smile that reminded Stan of Kyle. It felt like forever since he’d seen that smile—he hoped his plan worked and he’d see it again soon.
“Well, hello there, Stan,” she said warmly. “Gerald, look, it’s Stan!”
“Hi, Stan!” Mr Broflovski called from just behind her. He was smiling just as brightly as his wife. They both looked giddy, like their favourite celebrity was paying them a visit and not the boy next door.
“Come on in, come on in.” Mrs Broflovski ushered him inside. “I just want you to know how happy we are for you and our bubbie. You’re always welcome here, Stan.”
“Uh. Thanks?” Stan said, as if he hadn’t been round Kyle’s a hundred times before.
“Would you like a snack?” Mrs Broflovski asked.
“Um, no thanks. Is Kyle home?”
“He sure is! He’s upstairs playing in his bedroom. Why don’t you go on right up?” Stan nodded and headed towards the staircase. “Just keep the door open, okay?” Mrs Broflovski called after him, and Stan inwardly groaned.
Kyle was sitting on his bed reading a book when Stan entered. He froze, his shoulders tensing as he spotted his unwanted intruder.
“Hey, dude,” Stan said.
“What are you doing here?” Kyle asked, closing his book. He stared at Stan, and, despite the anger in his eyes, Stan couldn’t help but think it was an improvement. Kyle had barely looked at him in days.
“I figured it out, man,” he said eagerly.
“Figured what out?”
“How to make this all blow over.”
That got Kyle’s attention. “What? How?”
“We just need to break up!” Stan was so proud of himself for the idea. He faltered slightly as Kyle glowered, though.
“How can we break up? We’re not together, Stan!”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Stan nodded. Why was Kyle being so damn difficult? “I know, I know. But everyone thinks we are, right? So we just need to stage a public breakup, and then everyone will get off our back, and things can return to normal.”
Please let things return to normal.
The hesitant smile Kyle sent his way was better than all the cash people had been throwing at him since they were outed. “I’d like that, dude,” Kyle said.
Stan matched his smile, feeling the split in his lip crack but not caring. What was a little blood if Kyle was talking to him again? “Me too! So, uh, shall we do it at lunch tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
Stan nodded, his heart racing in anticipation, and turned to leave.
“Hey, dude,” Kyle called out. Stan stopped, turning too quickly, eager to hear what Kyle had to say. “I looked it up. Yaoi is just an art style for girls by girls because they like fictionalizing two guys in a relationship. The Asian girls didn’t make us gay after all.”
“Oh.” He hadn’t expected that. That was… a relief, right? He wasn’t gay after all, just as he’d suspected. He liked girls. Kyle liked girls. Nobody could force anything on them that they didn’t want. “That’s good, man,” he said, unsure why he didn’t sound as convincing as he wanted. “See you tomorrow then.”
Kyle’s eyes stayed on him for a long minute, staring into his soul. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”
They picked the perfect moment. A moment when the Asian girls were already on the steps in the lobby, but also many of the other students were passing through on their way to the lunch hall.
“Hey, Kyle!” Stan called, ensuring he spoke loud enough to attract everyone’s attention. “Hold up, dude! Listen to me.” Kyle, who had been pretending to pass him, stopped walking and turned to face Stan, wrinkling his face up in feigned confusion. “Look. It’s not going to work,” Stan said once enough people were paying attention.
“What do you mean?” Kyle asked, and, damn, his acting was good. He looked genuinely confused. Genuinely hurt. For a moment, Stan could only stare. He swallowed noisily.
He could do this.
They were only acting.
“I’m sorry, Kyle, but we can’t keep lying to ourselves. Yeah, okay, we’re gay, but we don’t like each other. I see that now.”
“Oh really?” Kyle asked fiercely, folding his arms over his chest. “And why do you get to decide how I feel, huh, Stan?”
“…What?” Stan blinked in surprise at the outburst. Surely Kyle should just agree with him, and then they could go their separate ways? Why was he drawing this torturous moment out any longer than necessary?
“And who are you to decide how I feel, huh? Whatever you seem to think, you don’t own me, Stan. I’m my own person, with my own feelings, and you can’t just go around shattering them, man!”
“Um…” Stan could improvise. He’d done it on numerous occasions, but right now, as Kyle called him out for breaking his heart, Stan didn’t know what to do. Everyone was staring at him bitterly, like he was the monster here, and Kyle had never hurt anyone in his entire damn life. “Dude—”
“No, Stan! You told me you loved me, and now you’re doing this? In front of everyone?!”
“We just… It’s for the best…”
“Is it?” Kyle snarled. “Is it really? Or is it just best for you?”
“Kyle, I—” This wasn’t fair. Stan was the one hurting over all this. Stan was the one whose heart was breaking because Kyle couldn’t bear to be in the same room as him anymore. “This wasn’t part of the plan,” he said hopelessly.
“Yeah, well, you know what, Stan? Love doesn’t follow a plan!” Somewhere in the crowd, Stan heard Butters yell in reverent agreement.
“I was wrong about you, Stan. I opened my heart up, and you came in smashing. I wish we’d never gotten together. I would have been happier never knowing what it felt like to love you. Because this—” Kyle gestured between them, and Stan was sure he was crying. What the actual fuck? “This fucking sucks, Stan.” With that, Kyle turned and stormed away, leaving a flabbergasted Stan staring at his retreating back.
Seriously. What. The. Fuck?
Why had Kyle done that to him? Why did his words feel like a stab to the heart?
Was everyone out to get him recently? First Wendy, and now this?
Speaking of—
“Oh, Stan!” Wendy said, hurrying over to him. She put her arm around him, hugging him against her as the numbness crawled across him like tiny insects burrowing their way beneath his skin, eating him alive from the inside out.
What had just happened?
And why did it feel like it had been real?
“Stan, sweetie, are you okay?” his mom asked as, drenched from the torrent of rain outside that seemed to exist solely to match his mood, Stan slipped into the house. He didn’t answer.
He took the stairs two at a time and fell face-first onto his bed without drying himself. He didn’t move again all night. His worried parents took turns hovering in the doorway, their own hearts breaking for their son and his ended relationship. From downstairs, Stan heard sad music float around the house.
Say something, I’m giving up on you…
Out in the downpour, the graffiti of Stan and Kyle embracing was rinsed down the gutter.
Stan was in his garden, working on his bike the next time Kyle showed up.
“Hey, dude.”
“What do you want?” Stan asked stiffly. Hadn’t Kyle done enough? He’d embarrassed him in front of the entire school, essentially announcing that he was in love with him, but Stan was a heartless bastard who would never love him back.
If anything, it was the other way around!
…Wait…
“I thought when we broke up, everything would get better,” Kyle admitted. “Everything is so much worse now, though, dude. My parents keep crying. You won’t speak to me. Cartman is being more of an ass than usual. Could we maybe… Could we say we got back together?”
“Dude. You’re not gay.”
“Neither are you!”
Stan's hands curled around the wrench he was holding, his knuckles turning white. “Then why do you want to say we’re together?” he asked between gritted teeth.
“Everyone was so much happier when they thought we were a couple.”
“I can’t pretend to be your boyfriend just to make everyone else happy. I need to think about myself, too.” Stan couldn’t go through all that again. It had been bad enough the first time. He couldn’t live a lie. It was too hard. He’d done it enough to realise that now.
“But…”
“If you need to be gay to make people happy, find someone else to be gay with! Leave me out of it,” Stan snapped. Kyle flinched.
“Why are you so angry?”
“You made me out to be a massive jerk!”
“You told me to make it real!”
“Not that real,” Stan said, deflating. “Some of the stuff you said…” He trailed off, unable to finish. Despite everything, he didn’t want to make things even worse between them. “Look, I can’t do this, okay?”
“Okay,” Kyle said softly. “I’m sorry, Stan. I didn’t mean to take it too far. I’m not even sure where all of that came from. The words kinda just slipped out, y’know? But you’re right. It wasn’t fair, and I won’t hurt you anymore, okay? I hope we can go back to being friends.”
Stan remained silent as Kyle lingered, keeping his eyes fixed on his bike. When he finally cracked, glancing to the left where Kyle had been, he was gone.
Stan slumped, letting the wrench fall from his hands as he buried his face into them instead.
I said it because I meant it
I realise that now
Stan stared at the two messages from Kyle, the first from him in a week—the first from him after a long chain of un-replied messages from Stan.
What had Kyle meant? Which part had he meant?
As if reading his mind, another message pinged through. Stan stared at it for a long time, his stomach somersaulting uneasily as he tried to riddle out his feelings.
Love doesn’t follow a plan.
In the days that followed, the whole of South Park seemed to wallow in their mutual grief, but none so much as Stan Marsh.
Love doesn’t follow a plan.
Well, wasn’t that just the cold, hard truth?
Stan had been on and off with Wendy for ages. He’d never really understood why he didn’t feel content with her. He never understood why when Wendy asked to talk about their feelings, he got uncomfortable and shut her out, but when he talked about stuff like that with Kyle, it helped. It felt good. It felt right.
Everything with Kyle felt right.
Stan just hadn’t realised what that meant until he was prompted into thinking about it.
As he stared at the texts from Kyle he still hadn’t replied to, he wondered if it had been the same for Kyle.
Did they owe it to each other to find out? To explore whatever this was together?
Stan didn’t want to be what the town wanted him to be. He just wanted to be himself.
More and more over the past few days, though, he’d realised that he liked himself best when he was with Kyle.
Kyle made him better, happier, than anyone else. If that made him gay, then sure, maybe he was gay.
It wasn’t about touching each other penises like PC Principal had said or fetishizing the romance like the girls.
It was about how Kyle made him light up.
It was about how Kyle made the world seem better, brighter.
It was about how Kyle made Stan feel like he could achieve anything his heart desired.
It was about how Stan had missed Kyle more than he’d thought humanly possible since all this drama had begun.
Kyle was his best friend.
Maybe he was more. Maybe that was something they could discover together. Maybe, if Stan could find the motivation to get out of bed, he could set the wheels in motion to begin that discovery…
Together.
xxx
The book of love is long and boring. No one can lift the damn thing.
However, somewhere out there is an abridged version where Kyle Broflovski is walking down Main Street, alone and miserable and missing his best friend. He is wondering whether things between them are over for good, and he is terrified of that possibility.
Before it can consume him, however, Stan Marsh is by his side, holding out his hand and offering a shy smile.
A smile that promises he’s there, and he’s staying, and they can figure everything else out together.
Kyle takes his hand.