Chapter Text
"Dad, Dad- where are we going?!" Kyle screamed in a fit of rage- he was trying to kick the window from his side of the car, sadly the doors already locked and child proofed.
Ike wailed across from him, flaring in his car seat- thrashing around like a toddler.
Gerald threw a suitcase into the trunk of the hybrid car, slamming the top shut and ran to the front.
Sheila cried as Kyle screamed, tears staining her face.
Kyle unbuckled himself and turned around as the car slowly moved foward, spotting him.
Stan.
Ten year old Stan Marsh stood on the road, barefoot- still in pajamas, watching his best friend just pack up and leave.
"Stan!" Kyle cried, tears flooding his red cheeks.
Kyle saw that look on his face, the same one he saw years later. Stan had a tear shining on his face through the morning sun, his eyes wide and wet.
Kyle was forced to watch and flail as he saw Stan slowly fade away, the familiar house- neighborhood disappearing.
—
Kyle fell asleep, his face wet and hot.
When he woke up, the scenery was different. It was grassy and green fields- the sun shining across the prairie from the deep, bright blue sky.
This wasn't home.
..
Kyle sniffed, watching the prairie views turn into palm trees and wetlands, the sun setting over a large body of water- the ocean.
Not once in that twenty three hour drive did Kyle pick up his brand new Nokia, not once did he drink more than a sip of water at a time, not once did he talk to his parents.
And that's how it stayed.
"It was for the best, Kyle." Gerald grunted, pounding his fist into the wooden table.
Kyle didn't change the pale, emotionless expression on his face.
He sat there, his fork pushing around his food as he pretended to enjoy the imaginary food he told his mom he ate.
He would go to school, study (to at least keep the family pleased), possibly eat, sleep.
One day, when he was fifteen- smoking became a part of that, somewhere in between studying and sleeping- possibly replacing eating.
On a random night, at around two in the morning, he wakes up to the house in panic. His dad is banging on Kyles door, screaming about something he cant make out clearly.
He remembers the door busting down, closing his eyes, his dad shoving Kyle's clothes into a trash bag, then ending up in the car- his brother sitting in the seat across from him. He remembered seeing the beachy shores turn into woods, turning into green fields, turning into rocky roads- which turned into mountains- and suddenly, he was driving up one.
A very specific, and familiar mountain.
Kyle felt an instant wave of nostalgia, then his eyes widened as he realized where he was.
South Park Colorado.
It's the next day, and unfortunately, Stan was too drunk last night as he stumbled home from a random party- to notice that he had new neighbors. not necessarily new.. but thats what stan thought when his mom said a family moved in next door.
Stan groaned, his head being a huge pain in the ass at the moment. "Okay.. and what does that have to do with me..?" What, was it a new high schooler ? If so, Stan didn't care- he was at the social standpoint that he wanted to be at. He didn't need new friends, he had himself- his dog, and Kenny.
"Because, Stanley." Sharon sighed, putting her hand over her sons, laying flat on the table. "It's.. It's the Broflovskis."
Stan's lips parted, and he let out a choke.
The Broflovskis?
No.
No- No, They left.
"Mom-"
"Stan, listen to me." Sharon raised her voice.
"No- No, you can't just drop that major fucking bomb on me like that!" Stan could feel his chest tightening with every second, the shock rushing through his body made him widen his eyes. His vision was blurring.
Kyle Broflovski was back.
His bestfriend was back in South Park after a decade of quite frankly not even a word heard from him.
The depressed ten year old kid cried himself to sleep every single night. Every night until he learned how to take care of it without sobbing into his pillow.
That kid who watched his emails get left on read- or fucking junked out for eight months, watching those emails turn invalid- Moving on to the house computer in hopes it continued on- "This emailing provider is out of service." Emailing that invalid house computer good night everyday until the computer eventually stopped receiving them.
"Stan!" Sharon screamed, cradling Stan in her arms. He had his head in his hands, his cheeks wetting with the sprawled out tears smudging his eyeliner.
"Mom? What's going on!?" A distant voice yelled, loud thuds hitting the floor.
Shelley ran into the kitchen, her feet stomping against the wooden floor. She had came home from college before the new semester started.
"I- Kyle can't be back!" Stan cried, squeezing his ears tightly, the pale skin turning red.
"Stan stop doing that! You're hurting yourself!" Sharon squeaked, her hands rushing to pull his hands off of himself.
Stan shoved her hands away and stood up, running straight out of the back door. He knew his mom didn't give a shit, it showed when she was drunk. It showed when she called him "the same as his father". And the apologies in the morning after were never real.
The raven sobbed, the tears flying as he ran down the wooden stairs of his patio, ran out of the metal, unlocked gate to a road, ran until he couldn't breathe.
Stan wheezed as he tried running for just a bit longer- he needed to run as far away as possible. He remembered sighting the opening into the woods that had been there for years, running into the small pathway as he wiped his tears away with his warm hands covered in fabric. He felt his black beanie slide off of his head somewhere along the way, no idea where it went or could be.
Another thing important to him was lost.
He slowed as he met the clearing, the makeshift treehouse hanging up in the air. He shook as he put a foot on the ladder, a sharp KLINK- as he climbed up, forcing a shudder down his already shooken spine.
Stan collapsed onto the dirty carpet covering the small space, his face pressed against the floor as he gasped for air.
He finally caught his breath and let out a choke from his dry throat, the crusted tears replaced with fresh ones.
He hadn't cried like this in years, not since he started drinking away his problems. Not since he found out about his dad's secret stash of beer hidden in the basement wall, hidden from Sharon- hidden from the kids. Stan remembered cracking open the can, his hands shaking as he sobbed. He remembered the sharp buzzing in his mouth as he drank the alcohol down, burning his throat. He felt the woozy feeling in his brain as he caught his breath, the tears still streaming down his face. It was like something just.. snapped.
It was so fucking good.
..
"Sheila- Sheila, I know you just got back-"
"What happened Sharon?" Sheila gasped, holding the tear-faced woman in her hands. This was the first time they'd seen each other in person in years, and this is how it went down. "Stan- had a panic attack, and- and I don't know where he went!" Sharon sobbed.
Shelley watched from behind, fidgeting with her hands.
"Oh Sharon- what happened ta Stanley?!"
"I- I told him about you guys moving back!"
Sharon cried. "I don't know why he reacted the way he did- it's like he's scared!" Sharon took a deep breath in, wiping the tears off her face.
Sheila nodded, letting out a sigh. "Should I call tha police?"
"No- No.. I was wondering if maybe he came here?" Sharon frowned.
Sheila returned the same expression. "No.. Hun, he hasn't." Sheila sighed.
Sharon nodded, a tired expression on her face. She ran her hand through her hair, Sheila giving her a tight squeeze.
"C'mon, Mom." Shelley sighed. "It's getting late, maybe he'll turn up tonight?" Shelley tried lightening the mood. Shelley had lost the sharp, snarky attitude over the years- she was twenty years old, sick of everybody- and just wanted to graduate college.
Sharon waved goodbye as Shelley hushed them quietly off the freshly furnished porch, Sheila sitting in the doorway, a worried expression lying on her face.
The red haired boy with long coils draping down his face stood on the stairwell, frozen. Kyle's lip shuddered slightly- dropping slightly lower than the top. His eyebrows furrowed by a slight movement, and suddenly, Sheila snapped her head back.
"Kyle-" Sheila jumped. "Bubbe.."
Kyle shook his head slowly, stepping from the stairs onto fair ground.
"How much did you hear?" Sheila whispered, her accent forcing her to not annunciate every word like she wanted to.
"That doesn't matta'." Kyle muttered, before he sharply turned his body towards the door.
"Where are you going?!" Sheila screamed, Kyle already making a B-Line straight towards the street.
Kyle let out a harsh paced puff, his basketball body allowing him to run pretty damn fast as he sprinted towards the edge of town- maybe there was something there. Kyle was running through every memory he locked behind his newly improved head, trying to figure out where he could be.
Kyle ran up the street, finding an upcoming forest. Kyle slowed down, stopping at the path where the trees parted, branches arching over the opening.
He turned his sprint into a walk, taking everything in. It was his first day back, and he was already feeling the rush of memories fly back to him- hitting him like a bitch.
He didn't know where he was going, but he knew that it was familiar- he knew he'd been here before, multiple times.
And then, he saw it.
The tall, old and wooden house built into the tree, as tall as a small watchtower. Kyles gaze caught the gleam of the setting sun illuminating the metal bars of the ladder, Kyle getting a flash of memories through his head.
He let out a sharp, not yet steady- but shaky breath as he placed his foot steady on the rod, his hand holding onto the ropes used as railing.
Kyle braced himself as he reached the last little peg of metal, his hand settling onto the metal bars that were drilled steady into the wood. He took a deep breath in, and pulled his body into the room.
Kyle stood up and shook the dirt off of his pants, finally taking a glance at the small house.
Kyle's heart dropped.
Sitting against the wall was Stan Marsh, his face wet as the boy used his hands to wipe his eyes. He let out a choke, leaving Kyle confused as to how he didn't hear this from the ground.
"Stan." Kyle let out a small, yet prominent voice out of his mouth. He felt weird letting those letters fall out of his mouth, jumbled together to fit that exact name that he hadn't used in years, only wrote or talked about him as if he was nameless.
Stans whole body froze, the rubbing motion that he forced into his skin stopped, his sharp sobs slowing as he removed his hands from his eyes. He squinted, his now dull blue eyes overpowered by his dilated pupils.
Kyle examined Stan, the way his hair fell down his face- yellow and straw like streaks of blonde striking the ends of his hair all around. His face was wet, black makeup smeared around his red, puffy face. He was a complete mess, and blood was coming from god knows where. The red, metallic liquid dripped from his lip, smeared to his entire bottom half of his face.
Stans eyes widened, the dim light of the sun hiding behind a tree allowing him to open his eyes fully. It was blurry, sure, but he could see.
Stan's lips parted slowly, his bottom lip giving him a terror from the dried blood being attached to the top lip.
He let out a quiet choke, his eyes finally focusing on the boy kneeling infront of him. Red, coily hair draped down the sides of his sweaty face, a curl dropping right in between his eyebrows- just long enough to tap the tip of his perfectly pointed nose.
His cheeks were flushed a deep pink- his nose a sharp red. His rusty pink lips quivered as he locked eye contact with Stans uncontrollably sharp glances.
"Kyle." Stan let out a breathless voice, coming out raspy with no certain pitch.
"No-"
"Hey." Kyle shushed, wrapping his arms tightly around the boy.
"Hey" was what he said- after nine years of starting his own life in a completely different state, a completely different region of the country- no peep if he was coming back, just the occasional call shared by Sheila and Sharon.
The two never heard their newly matured voices.
Stan was in utter shock. He was frozen, shaking from the sudden touch of somebody he hadn't known for years. But for some reason, he still felt the same. The warmth radiating off of him was the same he had felt every day for all of his life until fifth grade- god, it was all the fucking same.
Stan took a sharp swallow down his throat, the bitter taste of dry pills still seeping into the corners of his mouth.
Kyle kept his wrap around the boy, their foreheads meeting for the first time in what felt like forever.
"I-" Kyle croaked. Kyle still didn't know what to say.
He was still so confused, he was just in his two story house on the Jersey Shore not even forty eight hours ago, now he was moved in- half of his stuff still left inside of his room, his entire life.
And now he was forced to attempt at the old life that he pushed far- far away.
—
Stan's head was racing, racing to the back of his mind, running in between the peak of his iceberg to the coldest, deepest, and darkest layer of it. How could he be back? He- it wasn't right. It wasn't fucking right.
He kept his breath steadied, the occasional gasp as he felt Kyle's sleeve rub against his.
It was really him.
Was Stan supposed to feel so fucking sad? Upset- frustrated, confused? How was he just- how was he back? It didn't make any sense. And now he was here, hugging Stan just like he did ten years ago.
His heart started to race, starting to feel out of control of himself again. His chest tightened, his eyes widening at the hoods- his vision blurring at the edges. He winced, letting out a grunt as he clawed at the floor beneath him.
This wasn't normal. This couldn't be happening- he was abandoned, he was abandoned and left stranded for nine years, not a single goodbye- nothing.
"Stan?" Kyle whispered, letting go as he took in the sight before him.
"Stan, what's wrong?" What's wrong? Kyle, you just came back with no warning, back to a place he tried to forget- back to a place where he buried all of his friendships.
"I'm gonna be sick." Stan spat out, lunging to throw his head off of the edge of the house.
Stan shook, looking behind him one last time before jumping out of the wooden box hanging from a tree.
It wasn't far, and he landed perfectly and steadily on his feet- he shook off a feel and ran down the path, out of Kyle's sight in just a second.
The way Stan looked at Kyle.
He couldn't tell what it all meant. He saw a mix of offense- possibly defense, anger- and the most prominent, a saddening fear settling into his soul.
"Fuck."