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Honestly, Kyle Broflovski could make NASCAR racers look like a joke when is came to Stanley Marsh and his well being. It was honestly surprising that South Park hadn't caught fire at this point. But to be fair, no one would want to wake up to what Kyle had woken up to.
4:30 AM
Stan the Man: Kyle, I fucked up. I love you.
It was currently 6:45. And Kyle? He felt his heart drop right out of his ass upon reading that. He didn't even really get to respond to Sheila's "Bubby, where are you going?", because he was already out the door and at the end of the driveway, half inside the car, already starting it and backing out. Now, he was in the driveway of Tegridy Farms. This fucking farm was killing Stan, and Kyle knew it. If it hadn't been for the economy being so fucking SHITTY, Kyle would've had an apartment with Stan by now. But right now, in this instant, he was considering- No. Stan was GOING to live with him and his family now, and that was final. Sharon- God, Kyle UNDERSTOOD why Sharon would leave. And he thanked GOD she didn't take Stan with her, and he thanked GOD for having a chance to confess to his now boyfriend of four years. They were both 20 now. And Kyle was so close to working up the courage to propose to him, mental illness and all, Kyle could- Kyle WOULD take care of him, and Kyle WOULD heal him and take him far, far away like the Disney Princess he was. Still, it was bittersweet, because the cost of that was Stan living with Randy. And Randy was certainly not a "Father of the Year" award winner.
Kyle practically slammed the door open to Randy's obnoxious snoring. "Motherfucker", he hissed under his breath. He shook his head and bolted for Stan's room, not bothering knocking, because it's not like he hadn't seen Stan naked before. Every little mole, every scar, every mark that the fucker down stairs gave him, it wasn't anything he wasn't used to, but he sure as hell didn't like it. And, deep down inside, Kyle knew some of those were self-inflicted as well. "Stan", he whispered gently, carefully approaching the bedside and gently peeling back the thin blanket that separated himself from his boyfriend. Underneath was Stan, snoring lightly with tear stained cheeks, curled up in fetal position. "Oh, Baby...", Kyle teared up, carefully stroking Stan's ebony hair off of his face. Stan flinched a little at the touch, ocean eyes looking up at him. "Shh... it's me", Kyle said gently.
"How- How did you get past him?", Stan asked before sniffling and hiccuping, shifting to sit up and look at Kyle. That's when Kyle saw it. Two poorly bandaged arms poked out from under the blanket. Stan could feel meadow colored eyes tracing over the marks that were painted on his arms. "Ky...".
"He's passed out", Kyle answered after a frozen moment of silence. "Stan...".
"He broke my guitar", Stan breathed out, "We... got into it at like... like two in the morning, and... I said I was just gonna move in with you... And he said he was gonna lock me in here and that nobody would wanna deal with my fucked up ass and-", his breath hitched, "And that I was gonna be stuck on this farm and work for him forever and that if I tried to leave he'd come and kill me and anyone who stood in his way so I...".
"Stanley", Kyle said gently, petting his hair.
"I don't want anyone to get hurt for me-".
"Stan".
"It'd be easier if I just fucking offed myself, but I'm such a fuckin' coward, I-".
"Stanley", Kyle repeated, gently cupping his cheeks. "Listen to me, listen". He gently wiped Stan's tears, "That bastard won't do shit. He's a drunken asshole who barely walks like a human. He's a jealous fuck because you have people who love you, and he doesn't. I know he's been even harder on you since Shelley moved with Kevin to Denver- Stan, look at me". He teared up, already seeing Stan's eyes dull into spacing out. "Come back", he whispered, "I'm getting you out of here".
"I don't wanna be a burden", Stan mumbled.
"You won't be. Okay? Mom's gonna help you. Dad's gonna help you. I'm gonna save you", Kyle said, voice shaking.
"Help me", Stan repeated, eyes heavy.
"Yes", Kyle nodded and sniffled, "Yes, we're gonna help you. And it's gonna stop hurting. And you'll be with me, and one day, one day soon, we're gonna get married, and we're gonna get a puppy, and we're gonna name him Sparky Jr. and you'll have a new guitar and you'll write a bunch of pretty songs for me, yeah? And I'm gonna be a councilor, and we're gonna live together and grow old together, and we're gonna live happily ever after. Okay? But that's after. Okay? That's after I pull you out of this Hell. And that's today".
"... You said marry... You wanna marry me?".
"Of course I do", Kyle choked on a sob, "I don't wanna live a long life with anyone else, Stan, I want you".
"...How am I gonna get out? What if he wakes up, Kyle? What if he wakes up and follows us and tries to kill us and-".
"I'll knock him out my damn self", Kyle said sternly. "C'mon... Let's clean you up and pack some stuff and you're living with me, okay? Don't worry about rent, not for the first couple of months, I'll help you get a job at the pet store or something- A real job, and- and you're birthday's coming up and you'll see a new guitar waiting for your fingers", he whispered.
"Okay", Stan whispered back.
"I'm gonna get my Dad to help sue the shit outta Randy", Kyle growled, "This isn't right... None of this is right", he whispered, gently looking over Stan's arms.
"I'm sorry... I know I promised no more, I was six months clean of cuts, and I fucked it up-".
"Sweetheart", Kyle pulled him gently closer, kissing him softly.
Stan exchanged it with a faint whimper from the dull ache and the shame. "Surprised you didn't find me drunk too?", Stan asked with a bitter chuckle. "I couldn't drink even if I wanted too, Jackass down there drank it all".
"Hey... I wouldn't have blamed you... This is a lot for anyone", the redhead slowly stood back up and helped Stan on his feet, not liking the way the other's eyebrows knitted together and the hiss that came out of him. "You're okay", he said gently, "You're going to be alright". He looked at the bandages again, stained in red. Kyle was tired of seeing red. Red wasn't a color that belonged on Stan's skin. Ever. "I've got you. Hold on to me. I'll get you to the car and come back and grab some of your stuff. Just lock it if you're that nervous".
"Okay", Stan said softy, holding on to Kyle. "Baby, I'm hungry", he said softly.
"Let's go get some Tweek Bros. after we get you cleaned up and properly patched up", he said softly, careful not to wake the sleeping monster in the living room. Stan's heart almost dropped when Randy stirred a bit just as they reached the door, calling his name in a slur. Kyle gently covered Stan's mouth, staring Randy down with a look that DARED the older male to wake up. Kyle was ready to throw hands at any given moment and inflict ten times the pain Randy had inflicted on HIS Stan. After a tense moment of silence, the snoring returned, and Stan almost started sobbing with relief on the spot. Kyle shook his head and carefully led Stan out, not caring that the two of them were in their pajamas, not caring about jack shit ANYTHING except getting Stan to SAFETY.
Ten minutes felt like hours to Stan. He was told to wait in Kyle's car, breathing labored from the panic attack threatening to build. Did Randy wake up? Was Kyle okay? What was taking so fucking long? Stan swallowed, jumping as he heard the car unlock. Kyle opened up the back door, frowning at his boyfriend in fetal position again, shaking like a damn maraca. "Just me, honey", Kyle said softly, setting a bag of Stan's things in the back, "It's okay. You can relax, dear. He's still out cold".
"He's gonna notice I'm gone", Stan choked out in a whine.
"Well, he can suck my freckled ass before he even breathes in your direction again", Kyle muttered under his breath, "I outta go back there and kick his balls in.. But I can't help you if I'm in prison, can I?", he half-joked.
Stan let out a watery laugh, "Bold of you to assume he has balls to kick in".
"You're so right", Kyle said, shutting the back door and crawling into the drivers seat, running a tired and stressed out hand through his own red curls. "I got some napkins in the glove box... You got eye liner all over your... everywhere". Stan sniffled and moved to do so as Kyle turned the car on, wanting to get Stan FAR away from this farm disguised prison, "Seriously, don't want Cartman thinking you're in a Coon cosplay or some shit, do you?". He smirked but it fell as he was met with silence. "Stan?", he glanced over at the raven who was staring at a small velvet box in his hand. Oh...
"Kyle", Stan sniffled lightly, "What's this?".
"I, uh...", Kyle's cheeks turned pink. "It's for you".
"For me?", Stan asked softly, also blushing in about the same shade of color.
"Uh... Yeah...", Kyle nodded, pulling out of the driveway, "I... told you I wanna marry you".
"...Can I put it on?", whispered the raven.
"....Yeah... If you'll have me", Kyle replied in a whisper, "Will you...? Marry me, I mean...".
"...Yeah", Stan smiled a bit, tearing up again, "Yeah, I'll marry you".
"Cool". Kyle said awkwardly, focusing on the road ahead as Stan slipped the diamond on his finger.
"Cool", Stan repeated, shifting to hug Kyle's arm, "I love you, Dude".
"I love you too, Dude", Kyle nodded, tearing up a bit himself. There was no looking back. Only forward. Only the road to Stan's recovery. Only the road to their future.