Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I can't keep this up anymore Stan, not when the truth is right in front of me!

What- Wendy, I don't understand!

Why is it so difficult for you to see? It's not me that you want.

But I do, I really do!

No, Stan, it isn't. I'm sorry- but I have to end things, and for good this time.

Wendy, you can't do this to me again!

I'm sorry, but I'm trying to help you see the truth. As much as I loved you, it isn't me that your heart truly wants.
I hope that one day, you'll see what I mean and find your own happiness.

Wendy please, don't do this to me!
Wendy?!
Wendy don't hang up-
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Wendy...why...what did I do wrong?

"Fuckin hell, dude!"

Kyle had just swung his door open in the middle of the night to find Stan, his super best friend, standing outside his door looking dazed with a bottle in his hand. Kyle was already very familiar with this scene as he dragged Stan inside his home. "You can't keep doing this, man!"

Stan slurrs as his arm was hooked around Kyle for support, "Kaaaaal," Stan sobs as a tear drops to the floor.

"You know, you can be such a dickwad sometimes!" Kyle exclaims as he begrudgingly drags Stan to the bathroom again, "You're only 11 and you're already becoming an alcoholic. Do you know how badly that can destroy your health and your life?!"

Stan grumbles under his breath as another tear trickles down his cheek, "She broke up with me." 

Kyle mutters a few curses under his breath as he drags Stan into the bathroom of his home, familiar with the routine already. The drunkard stole his dad's stash and ran away to drink before showing up at his door, wasted. Kyle helps Stan out of his shirt and removes his beanie, "If you're gonna vomit, please do it in the toilet."

Right on cue, Stan shifts himself to the toilet and begins vomiting his insides out.

"Sick, dude." Kyle sighs as he heads to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. When he returns, he finds Stan on the ground, crying and muttering how Wendy had broken up with him again and that he'll never find love again.

"Am I such a bad boyfriend? I love her so much, I know I do. So why does she keep doing this?" Stan sobs and vomits again, but this time, on the ground.

"Aw, sick!!!" Kyle looks away in disgust before handing Stan the bottle of water, "Dude, if it's this toxic, why do you keep going back to her?!"

Stan doesn’t look up when he takes the bottle and downs it like it’s his second- third or how many bottles of alcohol, before looking at the bottle in disgust and throwing it to the side. Kyle can only sigh in frustration as he watches the bottle fly across the bathroom and hit the wall, knocking the cupboard door open.

“Come on man, stop torturing yourself. If it doesn’t work out with Wendy, it just won’t. You have to treat yourself better than this!”

"She- hic- said that I don' love her..." Stan slurs, "She said I like someone else and ended things for good."

"Ok and do you?!" Stan shakes his head no, "Even so, this back and forth game has to stop! That’s her problem if she feels insecure in your relationship! You just have to move on, Stan!"

Stan looked at Kyle with those hazy, drunken eyes, as if Kyle had grown three heads. "I can’t! I love her!"

Kyle feels his heart ache at how earnest Stan sounded. He's not new to this crap, but he's starting to get real sick of it if it becomes a habit, "For God's sakes, dude! Look at what Wendy has done to you multiple times! Can you really call that love?!"

Stan looked at Kyle once again, slowly coming to realize how his actions are hurting his best friend as he spots the tears in the corner of Kyle's eyes, "...'m sorry. But I love her."

Kyle grinds his teeth together as he tosses Stan's shirt back at him angrily, "I'm sick of this, dude! I'm sick of trying to help you see how badly this is affecting you, and you remain too stubborn to see what's right in front of you!" 

Stan is rendered speechless, even almost sobered by Kyle's outburst. He’s not new to see his friend lashing out (mainly at Cartman), but at him? 

"How are you this dense- forget it. I can't keep doing this if you're gonna keep ignoring all my warnings and advice! You do this every time, and you never learn!"

"Kyle- "No! Enough is enough, Stan! Make your choice, it's either me or her."

"Kyle... you're my super best fri- "No, Stan. Don't give me that." Kyle yells at him, now with tears streaming down his face. Stan feels the words get stuck in his throat at the sight of Kyle's tears. Never in his life had he seen him this upset, this hurt, and it hurts him too.

"I need your answer, Stan. Not some bullcrap excuse." Kyle balls his hands into a fist as both their eyes lock on one another one last time, "It's me or her."

It was that ultimatum that would be their downfall. The day after that drunken night of Stan vomiting his guts out in Kyle's bathroom, Kyle no longer stood by Stan's side. No longer did Kyle acknowledge him as they passed each other in the hall. It was just the day before that Kyle's face would light up as he turned around to see his super best friend behind him and run up to each other as if they were 'star-crossed lovers' in Cartman's words. But now, it was as if they were nothing more than strangers.

Time has seemed to blur now since their falling out. Stan had made multiple attempts to make contact with Kyle ever since his drunken night, but Kyle seemed just as stubborn as ever. Stan eventually stopped somewhere between their transition from middle to High school. It didn't make it easy when South Park's high school was merged with their previous school, so the boys would still have to roam the same halls they once shared laughs in. Everywhere Stan looked, it was just another sad memory. 

7 years would pass since that night, and not another word was exchanged between the two since then.

"Sup, hippie." 

Stan rolls his eyes, "I could hear you walking in from a mile away, Cartman."

"Ay! I'm not fat, I'm- "No, you're not big boned. You're just fat."

"Damn, who shoved a dildo up your ass this morning?" 

Stan grunts and closes his locker, spotting a flash of green amongst the crowd of people. Cartman watches Stan and follows his gaze, confused, before he sees what Stan is looking at.

"You're such a gayass, hippie."

Stan can't help another eye-roll as he begins to walk to class, his arm brushing against an orange jacket as the person he once called his best friend walks right by him as if he never existed in his life at all. Stan can't help but look back, hoping that for once, Kyle would look back at him too.

"Oh jeez, why don't you two just get a room?" Cartman comments on Stan's 'lovey-dovey' look every time Stan sees Kyle out in the halls.

"Can you stop playing cupid? Kyle and I aren't friends anymore."

"And yet I never said that stupid jew's name." Cartman looks at the taller with a smug grin. Stan groans in response, "Save it, I already knew who you meant anyway."

"You gayasses are so stupid."

"Shut your fatass, Cartman." Stan snaps at his not-friend.

"I am seriously! You guys can't help but make goo-goo eyes from afar and can't just apologize. I might as well shove you both in the closet and have you guys fuck the apology out of each other."

Stan rolls his eyes at Cartman, glancing over at that bright green ushanka hat in the distance, and his heart begins to race. Ever since Wendy broke up with him, she had helped him realize the root of all their problems. Stan never truly did love Wendy; his heart yearned for someone else, someone who would probably never be his despite his unwillingness to admit it.

Stan shakes his head softly, denying the feelings bubbling inside, "He's not looking at me, Cartman. Face it, our friendship was ruined a long time ago."

Cartman snorts, "You're so fucking emo, Stan. Just go up to Kahl and say sorry, and then he'll say 'It's ok Stan, I forgive you' then you two can go into the janitor's closet, and have make-up sex while that stupid jew is screaming your name 'Oh harder Stan, harde- "Shut the fuck up, fatass! Stop- just fucking stop!" Stan yells as he slaps a hand over Cartman's mouth, giving a nervous smile at the other students walking by and giving them judgmental looks.

Cartman licks Stan’s glove and Stan immediately reacts in disgust, pulling his hand away and glares at the gloating look on Cartman’s face, "You're red as fuck though, fuckboy. That means you miss that stupid jew. Maybe if you have him suck your balls, you'll finally stop looking like one of those goth kids again. Unless you want to be the one screaming instead 'Oh Kyle, yes, faster-"

Cartman was swiftly cut off by a punch to the face from Stan, "Agh! You stupid hippie! You punch like a girl!" Cartman reached a hand up to his nose where Stan had punched him and felt blood, "You even punch like that jew."

Stan grits his teeth and throws another punch. As Cartman tries to fight back, it only eggs Stan on as he throws punch after punch, as they earn a crowd of onlookers that chant and cheer for the boys brawling, "So you want to do the fucking then, huh, you fucking hippi- ow!"

"You need to shut your stupid fucking mouth, Cartman!" Stan throws another punch, which Cartman was barely able to dodge. It's clear that Stan was already winning the fight, encouraging the students around them to cheer on for Stan. But he was suddenly ripped off of Cartman, a pair of hands hooking under his arms and pulling him off of Cartman before he could do any further damage.

”Yeah, that’s right! Go find your fucktoy and take it out on him instead!” Cartman yells as Stan is dragged away.

"Stop it- let me go!" Stan yells as he's pulled far away from the crowd, as Butters and Kenny gather around Cartman.

"Shut it, Stan! You need to calm down!" A familiar voice yells back at him. Stan groans and begins to calm down, and stops fighting and flailing about. Eventually, he was let go and finally able to turn around, "Wendy, why the hell did you stop me?!"

"Because as much as that stupid jerk deserves it, you're better than that! Do you want to get kicked off the football team?" Wendy scolds him as Stan fixes his jacket and reluctantly shakes his head, "That's what I thought. Stan, why are you letting what Cartman says get to you? What did he say now that you'd punch him like that? That isn't like you."

Stan folds his arms and groans a little, "It's nothing. Just Cartman saying stupid shit like the usual."

Wendy wasn't buying Stan's bullshit and pinched the bridge of her nose, "Stan, you usually never retaliate when Cartman says dumb things. That's a thing- well, that Kyle used to do. Clearly, he said something that pissed you off badly."

Stan casts his gaze away, averting eye contact with Wendy, "It- It's nothing. Just- can we just move on from this Wendy- "No, Stan! This is the problem with you! You need to speak up when something is bothering you."

Stan bites his lip and grumbles, "Wendy- "Stan. You need to talk this out."

Stan sighs as he turns his head to Wendy, but keeps his head hung low. How can he tell Wendy how badly he’s still hurting even after 7 years? As much as he hated Cartman for mocking him, he did have a point. He missed Kyle, badly, "Cartman just- he made some comments about me and Kyle, and wants us to apologize to each other. Then he just- kept going and making obscene comments about us in a closet-"

Wendy shakes her hands frantically for him to stop, "That's all I needed to hear, you don't need to explain any further. But Stan, can't you see? As much as I'd hate to agree with that misogynistic turd, he has a point. You clearly miss Kyle. Why can't you two just talk it out? It's been seven years, Stan."

"He wants nothing to do with me, Wendy. You know that."

"Oh, and did Kyle tell you that?" Wendy folds her arms at her retort against Stan, "We've talked about this, Stan. You love him. For a long time, without you even realizing you did. It’s the whole reason we ended things for good. We're almost graduating high school, and we all may never see each other again. Do you really want to end it like this without your best friend by your side? Without confessing your feelings you keep pushing aside because you refuse to admit it to yourself?!”

Stan held his tongue. He remembered this conversation distinctively, but he dared not reminisce. He hasn’t admitted it, not to anyone, not even to himself. He knows he misses Kyle, but love?

Wendy watches Stan’s internal struggle and sighs. Not another word was spoken, and Wendy can only watch helplessly as Stan continues to deny himself the truth.

Meanwhile, Butters was helping Cartman sit upright with a towel pressed to his nose, "Eric! Are you ok?!"

Cartman can only groan in response, mumbling about 'that stupid gay ass hippie'. Kenny snickers, "He seems fine, Buttercup."

The crowd begins to disperse as Cartman slowly recovers and his nose stops bleeding, "Dude, what did you say to Stan that got him this upset?" Kenny asks as he takes the now-soaked towel with some tissue from Cartman.

"I just told that tree lover that he needs to have some make-up sex with that stupid jew! Don't you see the hearts in his eyes every time he looks at Kahl, or how his face turns green and he almost pukes when he hears that jew laughing?!"

"I think that's an over exaggeration." Kenny rolls his eyes and tosses the disgusting towel into a nearby trash can.

"No, it's not! They just need to say sorry, or else they'll never get to suck each other's balls."

"And that's Stan's bed to make. You can't force them to apologize to each other, especially if they have had seven years to do so. If their content with where they are now, we can only encourage them, not tease them." 

"Shut your poor ass mouth, Kienny!"

"Oh god, who the hell did you piss off now, you fat turd?" Another familiar voice joins the conversation. Kyle walks up to the trio on the floor and looks down at them with an almost smug look at Cartman's beat-up nose.

"Shut up, you stupid jew!"

"Eric pissed Stan off and Stan beat him up." Butters piped up in response.

Kyle tries to avoid a smile forming on his face, but he snickers anyway, "H-Hold on. Stan did this?!"

Cartman extends his arm out and flips the bird at Kyle, "Fuck off, jew! Of course, you're happy you have your stupid boyfriend fighting your battles. What's next? You gonna give him a thank you kiss at his next football game?"

Kyle narrows his eyes, "Do you think you can afford another beating right now, Cartman?"

"What? Wanna finish what your boyfriend st- "That's enough. We're taking you to the nurse's office." Kenny slaps a hand over Cartman's mouth as he and Butters help him onto his feet and drag him away. 

Kyle snickers as he watches the two drag Cartman away and looks up, locking eyes with Stan for a moment. Stan freezes as Kyle looks up at him, not having seen Kyle looking directly back at him since that night, and he feels his breakfast in his throat.

Kyle seems to hesitate. But memories from that night flood in, the slurred words, and the choice that was made. All he could muster to do is flash a small smile at Stan before walking off to class.

Wendy watches the exchange as Kyle walks off and Stan is left standing in place looking green, "Stan?"

Stan can't help but double over onto the floor, "Stan?!" Wendy exclaims and rushes to Stan's side as he lurches, trying to hold back from regurgitating his insides.

"Oh god! Come on, let's get you to the bathroom!"

It was the middle of the first period when Wendy finally got Stan into the classroom. The teacher takes one good look at the two and shrugs, continuing with the class.

Kenny leans to the side and slides a quick note to stan: What the hell happened to you dude? You looked fine after your fight with Cartman.

Stan takes the note and shakes his head, handing the note back to Kenny without writing anything, much to his friend's dismay. However, Stan did look slightly perkier since the fight. Whether it was because of how much he fucked Cartman up or something else, he'd have to do some digging after class.

The school day feels like it's being dragged on and each attempt to make contact with Stan was futile. Kenny tries anything in the book to provoke Stan without pissing him off, and got a reaction at the mention of Kyle’s name, but nothing more than that. Eventually, lunchtime hits and Kenny makes a beeline for Wendy's locker and watches her close it as they lock eyes, "Wendy!"

"Kenny...? How can I help you?"

"What's up with Stan? He seems...dazed? Plus, you both came into first period late. Did Stan get hurt during the fight or something?"

Wendy looks at Kenny and blinks, processing his words before breaking into a chuckle, "Oh no, nothing like that. Stan just...had some stomach issues after the fight- "He puked?"

"He puked."

Kenny snickers, putting two and two together, "Did Kyle actually look at him this time? Or did he hear Kyle laugh again."

Wendy laughs along side Kenny and nods, "Kyle looked at Stan and smiled at him."

"Damn. Stanley Marsh, puking over his dumb crush on his 'ex' best friend. Haven't seen him have a flare up that bad since- I dunno, since you guys were a thing?" Kenny grins as memories from the past came flooding in.

Wendy shrugs and chuckles, "It was worse this time too," Wendy shivers at the memory, "But it's too disgusting for me to recount to you."

Kenny nods as a moment of silence takes over as they reminisce over old memories. Stan’s vomit flare ups weren’t as consistent or as common with Wendy, only taking place during the beginning of their relationships or where they tried to kiss (and failed). Since their break up, Stan’s stomach problems were limited to just hearing Kyle’s laughter in the distance or seeing his face light up at a joke. The list could go on, but Stan would never admit the truth despite the obvious. "It's killing me seeing these two like this,” Kenny sighs, shaking his head.

"I know. I…wish there’s something we can do to help but Stan seems adamant that Kyle still hates him.”

”Even after Kyle smiled at him?”

Wendy shrugs, “If you want to try and convince him again to talk it out with Kyle, by all means.”

”It’s clear they miss each other. But if I’ve learned anything over the past seven years, it’s that talking to them has proven to be fruitless.”

“What’s up, bitches? Having an alphabettee committee meeting by the lockers now?” Cartman walks up to them, holding a cold compress to his cheek with some tissue in his nose.

”It’s none of your business, Cartman.”

”What? Mad that your ex boyfriend beat me up for that jew but not for you?” Cartman smirks at Wendy who is one comment away from sucker punching Cartman’s already beat up face.

”You need to keep your comments to yourself or else the next person beating you up will be either Wendy or Kyle, and you know damn well they both do not hold back like Stan.” Kenny glares down Cartman.

”I’ll let Kyle have it. It’s been a long while since he got to let his anger out on Cartman,” Wendy gives Cartman an unamused look. 

”Ay! Like I’m scared of that stupid know-it-all! He’s weak ass!” Cartman takes a step closer as he glares back, both boys with fist at the ready.

”You know damn well you got your ass handed to you on a silver platter whenever Kyle came for yours!”

”Shut the fuck up, Kienny! Too scared to do the job yourself?!”

”Enough! It’s clear that we have to do something to help them!” Wendy pushes the two away from each other and stands between them as a buffer, “They just need a gentle push in the right direction. Maybe hosting a study group session will be a good place to start.”

Cartman dramatically fake gags, “That’s gay. We should just lock them in a room until they fuck it out.”

”Enough of that, Cartman. We’re not doing that!” Kenny snaps back.

”You guys are fuckin’ lame!”

”This isn’t a rom-com, Cartman! These are real people with very delicate emotions. We have to thread this carefully and if you decide to not be mature about it, you can just mind your own business!”

“Shut up Wiendy!!”

Wendy decides to just ignore Cartman for the rest of her conversation with Kenny, both of them deciding that a study group will be a good start to try and get the two together without it being overwhelming, despite Cartman’s complaints at how lame it was before going on his phone, bored out of his mind. Kenny took a peak of whatever Cartman was doing on his phone but deemed it nothing important or damaging to their plans so he ignored him too.

They eventually texted a couple of their friends to join them at Wendy’s place after school, Cartman muttering that he’ll join them as well to see if their stupid plan succeeds much to the pair’s reluctance to invite Cartman. Kenny and Wendy went their separate ways to finish out the school day and invite any other straddlers they could think of before going off to find the last 2 on their list.

”Stan!”

Stan was just wrapping up his football practice when he saw Wendy running up to him. He grabs a towel and wipes his face of sweat as he acknowledges her presence, “What’s up, Wendy?”

“I was just wondering since we’re gonna wrap up the year in a few months that it would be a good time to form a study group and get ahead while we still can!”

”Oh? I mean…that would be nice. I do need help with- well, a lot of subjects if I want to get into animal sciences.”

Wendy grins, almost too excitedly at his agreement much to Stan’s slight concern and confusion, “Perfect! I’m hosting one today as soon as everyone’s out of their extra curricular activities so, in half an hour?”

Stan shrugs and nods, “I’ll be there. Maybe a little later cause I have to wash up and change. Who else is gonna be there?”

Wendy freezes for a second. She hadn’t exactly braced herself for this question, “Oh just, the usual. You know? Kenny and I invited, Bebe, Heidi, Butters, Craig, Cartman- “I’m not going if that asshole’s there.”

”Oh come on, Stan! It’s beneficial for all of us to study together. I’ll keep him off your back until you cool off, ok?”

”No, Wendy. That guy really ticked me off today and I don’t think I’ll be able to restrain myself if he makes another comment.”

Wendy frowns, “Stan, you know I’m the only one that can help you with your math homework so you better show up or SO HELP ME!”

Stan shrinks a little and quickly nods. He knew first hand how scary Wendy can get, and she wasn’t wrong either. He used to have Kyle help him with his homework but with Kyle out of the picture…

Stan dared not dwell on it for too long.

“Ok- ok. I just need to let my mom know I’ll be late for dinner. You know how she is.”

“Fair enough. I’m sure she’ll understand if it’s studying for finals though, so you better show up or else I will cut off your balls, Stanley.”

”Just…keep that asshole away from me.”

”I’ll do my best but no promises. You know how Cartman is.”

A very loud, audible sigh escapes Stan’s lips as he braces himself, “I know.”

Stan was an hour late due to a debriefing with his team, and the last to arrive at Wendy’s house. Despite his reluctance to see Cartman, he really did need Wendy’s help if he wanted to get into a good college and escape this hellhole and his father’s dumbass antics.

”Wendy, I’m here. Sorry, the team just had a long debrief cuz of the upcoming season-“

Stan freezes as he turns around and his cut off mid sentence. All eyes were on him, except one. Sitting at the corner of the table next to Kenny was that oh so familiar green hat, eyes glued to his work like always.

”Stan, thank goodness you made it!”

Stan barely heard Wendy when his gaze snaps up to her, his mouth already frothing a little with his lunch just at the sight of Kyle. Wendy didn’t warn him that Kyle was gonna be there. His instincts were screaming at him to run away. Whether it was because he was scared of Kyle or worried of triggering Kyle with his presence, it could be either or (it’s both). 

“We don’t have a big group today since it was so last minute so only— oh shit, Stan! Let me get you some tissues.” 

Wendy runs off to grab some from the kitchen and Stan was left standing awkwardly by the door, holding the strap of his bag, barely hearing someone mutter ‘gayass hippie’. As much as he wanted to jump Cartman right that second, he holds himself back. He dared not cause another scene after what he pulled back at school, especially in front of him.

”Here, Stan.” Wendy hands Stan some tissues which Stan graciously accepts and wipes the disgusting liquid oozing at his mouth. 

No, Stan won’t admit it. Even if he did love him before, he’s moved on. Right? Yeah…he doesn’t love him. He’s not in love with how his beautiful curly ginger hair would fall in front of his face, or how his emerald green eyes would glance at someone and light up, wishing it could be him that the object of his affection was looking at. Or how his nose scrunches up when he’s concentrating or frustrated, or his cute little head tilts when he’s exasperated and- oh fuck he was doing it again. 

“Stan, you can go sit at the end of the table.”

Wendy gestures to the head of the table, right by the corner Kyle was sitting at. Stan's eyes widen and he looks to Wendy, only to find a cheeky grin plastered on her face. He glares at her, but sucks it up anyway. He feels his stomach in his throat as he tries to swallow it down and act nonchalant as he walks over to the table and sits down, Wendy taking a seat opposite of Kyle just in case Stan has another episode just by breathing the same air as Kyle.

Kyle glances up at Stan and their eyes meet again. Stan was glued onto Kyle’s gaze as Kyle smiles once again before looking back down at his work.

Oh fuck he feels his like he’s gonna explode.

“So, Stan, Kyle was nice enough to bring some past exam worksheets and have them copied for all of us. We’re doing math for today so unless you have any homework you want to work on, we’re all hoping to finish this worksheet by today and see how well we did.” Wendy hands Stan a stapled stacked sheet of paper to try to take Stan’s mind off of Kyle before he vomits all over the table.

“Oh- uhm…” Stan takes the paper and sets it in front of him, “Thank- thank you…uh….Kyle,” Stan mumbles, trying to hold himself back from puking on Kyle after finally mustering the courage to talk to Kyle, 7 years after since the last time they spoke.

Kyle looks back up at Stan and smiles again. Oh god, what Stan wouldn’t do to see him smile like that everyday again, “No problem, dude.”

The same voice from earlier mutters ‘gayasses’ again.

Kyle grunts in frustration and clenches his pen he almost breaks it, the ink staining his hands. But Kyle bites back his tongue and just throws the now broken pen at Cartman who yells and tries to antagonize Kyle, but gets nothing in return except for a smack to the back of the head and a warning from Wendy to shut up.

So the study session continues. After letting Stan catch up to the rest of them in questions, everyone (except for Cartman) discusses their answers after each new problem in their worksheet. Stan can’t help but glance at Kyle every now and again.

It felt nice, knowing that Kyle seemed to tolerate Stan’s presence. While Stan was too afraid to speak up much during their discussions, he catches a small smile on Kyle’s face whenever he does talk, making his heart flutter. God he was gonna throw up.

A harder problem comes up, and Stan can’t help but take a peek at Kyle’s worksheet, but gets caught immediately as Kyle felt eyes on him and looks back at Stan, “Dude, are you cheating off of me again?”

Stan feels his body paralyze as Kyle looks up at him. His face feels hot and his ears go red as he looks away, back at his own worksheet, “No- no.”

Kyle giggles and by some miracle, Stan doesn’t throw up, although he can feel his stomach bubbling, “Dude, if you need help just ask.”

Everyone’s eyes were on the two now, on the edge of their seat. Was this the moment they’ve all been waiting for? The rekindling that the two oh so desperately needed? Stan didn’t even notice the eyes on them and can’t help the giddy, dumb smile forming on his face as he opens his mouth to reply before someone else decides to open their mouth first.

“They might as well fuck each other.”

This time, Cartman earns a reaction from Kyle, “Shut your fatass, Cartman.”

”Oh yeah?! Wanna finish off what happened at skewl, jew?! You’re gonna beat up someone that can’t even fight back?!”

”Knock it off, Cartman. Stan already did bad enough damage on you unless you're looking for a one way ticket to the ER.” Kenny warns the fat lub of tard sitting next to Wendy.

”You instigated it, like you always do!”

”You don’t even know what happened you dumb jew! So eager to protect your boyfriend like always!”

”For fucks sake, Cartman, are you asking to get beat up?!” 

“Oh god- oh god! Craig, make it stop! I thought we were just supposed to be studying-!” Tweek flinched as Cartman threw a pizza he was munching on, at Kyle.

”Knock it off guys! Do you wanna study or not?!” Bebe rises from her seat as Wendy runs to the kitchen to grab some more tissues for Kyle, who was barely holding himself back.

”He started it! Like he always does!”

Cartman throws his can of soda at Kyle, then the broken pen, getting ink all over Kyle’s jacket and pissing him off even more, “You FUCKING FATASS! Why did you even come here to study?! You don’t even like fucking studying you fat piece of shit!”

”To watch you and Stan make out, duh.” Cartman taunts Kyle and points at Stan, proving to anger and fluster the red-head even more as Wendy returns, helping to wipe the stains off of Kyle’s jacket and attempts to calm him down.

Stan felt himself shrink in his seat. It was almost like it was just the 4 of them standing by the bus stop, Kyle and Cartman at each other’s throat as per usual. But this time, the argument was about the obvious elephant in the room given that they were placed in the proximity of each other, and Cartman just had to open his goddamn mouth. He felt outed for something even he‘s still in denial about.

Stan badly wanted to speak up, just wanting to get the study session over and done with, but the two kept going at each other despite the best attempts of the others to defuse the situation.

“Why are you so obsessed with us, Cartman?!”

”Because you and Stan are too pussy to say sorry and keep eye-fucking each other from across the room!”

”You piece of shit-“ Kyle raises his arm, but Wendy’s hand on his shoulder stops him from fully retaliating like he usually does.

”Knock it off, Cartman,” Kenny warns him again.

”Tell me I’m fucking wrong! Their so far up each other’s asses without even touching each other because they won’t admit the truth!”

”Cartman, cut it out!” Wendy warns him.

Stan wanted to disappear into the floor. He was so close to having a semi-normal conversation with Kyle again. He didn’t want to get in trouble again for fighting Cartman. There’s no way he’ll give in and give this pathetic waste of space the reaction he wanted.

”Why are you obsessing over something that happened seven years ago?!” Kyle spats.

”Oh, like you guys didn’t have wet dreams of each other for the past seven years!”

”Shut the fuck up, Cartman! You’re so obsessed, I think you’re the one that probably gets off to the idea of us cause you can’t get a relationship that lasts!”

”At least I had a relationship, you skinny, ugly, pale ass, ginger, smartass, unlovable jew! You were rejected by every person you touched you diseased looki-”

"Fuck it."

Now that, that made Stan snap. He rises from his chair and cuts Cartman off by grabbing him by the shirt, glaring into his eyes as the fatty immediately goes silent and fear takes over him. 

Everyone watches, stunned. Half of them didn’t get to see the fight earlier, and they knew Stan to not usually be reactive to Cartman’s comments.

”Hold on, Stan, we can talk about this— “Shut the fuck up, Cartman.”

Stan’s voice was laced with venom. He looked ready for round 2, throwing all caution and restraint into the wind. Why the hell did he only react then? Stan couldn’t logic himself out of this one, but he was too preoccupied to care that his anger had gotten the best of him and it seemed that another beatdown was inevitable. Luckily for Cartman, Kenny intervened once again with some help from Craig and Tweek, pulling Cartman out of Stan’s grasp.

“That’s it, you’re no longer invited to these study sessions!” Kenny yells as the three boys drag Cartman out the door, Tweek muttering about if Stan wasn’t going to finish the job, he would, with how freaked out he was. Meanwhile, Bebe leaves with Wendy to go grab some cleaning supplies to clean up the mess Cartman made of the table and the floor.

That left Stan and Kyle alone in the dining room. Stan was still too worked up and was trying to wrangle with his emotions. He had snapped twice now in a single day, both because of Kyle. There’s no denying now that Stan, at the very least, feels protective over his old friend. Especially when they were so close to rectifying their friendship. 

“Stan…?” 

I'm going to kill that bastard.

"Stan."

I swear- I will. If I go to jail for life so be it.

"Stan?"

No one insults my super best friend. No one is allowed to tell him that he's unlovable while I'm still breathing

"STAN!"

Stan could feel his heart in his throat and the pounding in his head intensify as snaps out of his trance and hesitantly turns to look at Kyle.

”Dude…you never snapped like that at that dumbass before. Are you ok?”

Oh god, the sweet sounding concern in Kyle’s voice was pushing Stan to the edge.

”This- this was not how I expected our first conversation to go since that fight,” Stan mutters.

Kyle shrugs and looks down at his now stained orange jacket and sighs, “I should have said no when Kenny mentioned Cartman was gonna be here.”

Stan feels himself calm down a little and chuckles, “I thought the same when Wendy invited me.”

Kyle laughs in response but doesn’t add anymore. The air felt suffocating in the room. Of course, the two still felt awkward around each other with Stan nervously slapping his thigh with his hand, and Kyle rubbing his arm, unsure of what else to say.

Kyle hesitates for a second, his mouth hanging before looking at Stan, “So, why did you beat up Cartman at school today?”

Stan wants to melt into the ground right there and then. How is he going to tell Kyle it's because Cartman was making childish comments about his (their) pining?

"It was stupid. Cartman...said some things and I just...I couldn't help it."

Kyle frowns and takes a step closer to Stan, looking up at his face and hesitantly reaches a hand up, despite Stan's silent protest else he barfs on him, "Dude, did you even notice the bruise on your cheek? It looks like Cartman managed to get a hit in."

Stan's body was ready to spill out his guts as he feels Kyle's ungloved hand touch his bruised cheek, "I- I didn't feel it-" Stan feels himself gag as he takes a step back away from Kyle. The other looked a little hurt and Stan felt like an asshole because of it. They were so close, so fucking close. But Stan can't help the way his stomach is.

"I-I'm sorry. I gotta go!" Stan grabs his bag and runs out the door despite Kyle's yelling protest. Stan does what he does best, run. He can't let Kyle see him like  this, all pathetic and barfing because he can't get a hold of his goddamn emotions. Because he won't admit it to himself and let him feel how he feels about his old friend.

Kyle was left standing at the patio, standing by the front door. He knew that look on Stan better than anyone, even after seven years apart. Kyle wasn't sure what or more specifically, who, triggered Stan's reaction, but he knew enough to understand what was going on. Stan was in love.

Chapter Text

"Kenny, how did you know you were in love with Butters?"

"What?"

"How did you know you were in love with Butters?"

Kenny looks at Stan a little dazed and surprised by the question, paused in putting his textbook away in his locker. It was the day after the mess that was the study group session and Kenny assumed Stan wouldn't want to dwell on it any longer. But the person standing in front of him shows otherwise. Hands stuffed into the pockets of the red varsity jacket for the high school’s football team, ears burning red. Stan wanted to know more, he wanted to understand, and Kenny wasn't going to turn away a poor tortured soul that needed guidance and accept the fact that he was in love.

"It's the little things, Stanley," Kenny says as he continues putting his books away, "Buttercup has always been a little naive but packs a lot of spunk. He has these crooked front teeth that kind of stick out when he smiles, and how sometimes he closes his good eye when trying to look at something closely, even though his other eye is almost blind."

Kenny has this far off look as his thoughts drift to his beloved, "I care about him so much, and I want to stay by his side 24/7. I try to imagine a world that Butters isn't in, but I can't, I can't live without him."

Kenny peaks a glance at Stan who seemed lost in thought and smiles as he continues, "The lines between friendships and romantic relationships can blur, so it's really about how you feel about this person. If you can imagine building a future together, or if you can find solace in each other, or you just want to share every bit of your life with them no matter how mundane, I'd call that love."

Stan bites his lower lip and looks back up at Kenny, "Since when did you become such a sap, Kenny? I thought that was my job."

Kenny chuckles back, "Since I met Butters."

Stan looks inside Kenny's locker, spotting a picture of the 4 of them when they were kids. Kyle was right by his side, as always, "I..."

Kenny looks at Stan, watching the gears turning in his head and follows his gaze, "Stanley Marsh. Is there something you want to tell me?"

Stan bites his tongue, eyes flickering between the picture and Kenny. His body was trying to communicate, but his brain was telling him to keep his mouth shut, to try and find an explanation to why he's been feeling the way he feels, "I'm not confessing to you, if that's what you're thinking."

Kenny erupts into laughter, clutching onto his stomach much to Stan's lack of amusement, "Of course not, Stan. But there is someone else, isn't there?"

Stan narrows his eyes, as if warning Kenny to keep his mouth shut. Stan knew, he knew deep down, that if Kenny said the name he was thinking of, he'd surely barf.

"It's been a long while since you've been in a relationship, Stan. There's a reason you've been holding back, but the first step to confessing how you feel, is confessing it to yourself first."

Stan was quiet for the most part, but he's snapped out of his thoughts almost immediately when Kyle ran up to them. How did he know it was Kyle?....fuck, "Hey guys, Wendy's inviting us over again for another study session after school. 'Cartman free' this time."

Stan looks up and sees Kyle. The orange jacket was long gone, probably in the wash somewhere, and instead, Kyle wore a long orange hoodie that swallowed him whole.

Oh fuck, Stan was definitely gonna barf.

"We'll be there, right Stan?" Kenny changes his glance from Kyle to Stan, looking at him expectantly with a knowing smirk.

Stan was gonna wipe that smirk off Kenny's face if he didn't like him so much.

"Yeah, yeah yeah I'll uhm...be there, Kyle. As long as you guys help me with my math homework today," Stan's voice was eerily soft and shy, making Kyle laugh. Stan dared not look up at Kyle's face. He did not want to find out whether it was because Kyle thought it was funny and was making fun of him, or found it endearing. Either way, he thinks it's gonna make him sick.

"Of course, Stan. I...look forward to talking to you again." Kyle says with a genuine smile, giving Stan a small wave before walking off. Stan could only stare dumbfounded as he watches Kyle disappear into the crowd, like there was some sort of filter that made everyone else look like disembodied figures and amplified every single feature of Kyle Broflovski.

Stan immediately bangs his head against the locker with a loud metal thud, earning the attention and weird looks of a few students nearby and catching Kenny by surprise. People began to whisper a little, beginning a little gossip train at his seemingly hopeless crush, but Stan didn't seem to care. His mind was racing, playing every second of that interaction in his head like a TikTok on loop.

Stan's heart was racing so fast. Kyle basically admitted that he wanted to rekindle their friendship. Even after everything that happened the day before. Even after he ran away from him because Stan was going to puke. Was Stan reading too much into this? Maybe, but his mind won't let him rest as he hyper-analyzes every detail of that interaction.

"Dude, you are down baaaaad. You're even acting like Kyle."

"Shut the fuck up Kenny!" Stan removes his head from the locker and points at Kenny. He looked like he was ready to give another beating, but Stan still has some restraint given that it was Kenny and not Cartman.

"Stanley, Kyle likes you too you know."

"Who said anything about liking Kyle?! Besides, he was talking to both of us!"

Kenny smirks again, "It wasn't me he was looking forward to talking to, or the one he was waving to as he left. Admit it, you miss Kyle's attention and now you're a whore for it."

Stan clicks his tongue and clenches his fist. He's usually more put together than this, why on earth was he falling apart?! "I remember a time when you were such an attention slut and took whatever bj you could get," Stan shoots back, "You were the biggest slut of all of us!"

Now it's Kenny's turn to frown, "Am not!"

"I said you were, unless you're still secretly still a slut, just for Butters."

"I give you advice out of the goodness of my heart and you insult me in return?!"

Stan shrugs with a cheeky grin, "Am I wrong?"

"You know what, Stanley?! Go find someone else to talk to for love advice!" Kenny slams his locker door and dramatically turns his nose up and walks away. Stan snickers as he watches Kenny storm off, clearly to find Butters.

Kenny’s words still did leave an impact on Stan, his words echoing in his head. He remembered back when they were kids and he was still with Wendy. Whenever she'd ask to hang out after school, Stan's mind was off somewhere else, wishing he was playing video games with Kyle instead. Or when Wendy would talk about the future, Stan's first thought was to immediately figure out how to accommodate Kyle into his life. Even now, when the two don't consider each other as close friends anymore, Stan still can't imagine a future with anyone else except Kyle.

Did he dare to picture it? No. Does he want to admit that he wants Kyle with him forever? No again.

Fuck.

He needed to talk to more people.

Craig and Tweek were the unfortunate next victims of Stan's spiralling and his complicated feelings for his friend- friend? Can they call each other friends? Is that moving too fast-

"Dude, you gotta settle down. You're gonna become the next Tweek if you don't sit down and sort yourself out." Craig pulls Stan by the sleeve to sit down on the bench next to him in the cafeteria.

"What is that suppose to mean?!"

"Sorry, honey. But it's not necessarily wrong either." Craig shrugs, "I still love you for you, honey."

"It's like you have two different personalities, Craig. You're never like this with the rest of us." Stan buries his face into his arms as he rests against the table.

Craig rolls his eyes and quickly flips his middle finger up, "What exactly is bothering you, man?"

"It's- it's-...I don't know!"

Tweek twitches a little as he analyzes Stan's slunken frame from across the table, "Is it because of Kyle?"

Stan hits his head against the table. At the rate he's going today, he's probably going to concuss himself.

Craig lets out a nasally laugh and nods, "I think you hit the nail on the head, babe."

"I'm gonna ram a nail into mine. At least then, the lobotomy might fix whatever’s wrong with me." Stan mumbles, earning another almost gloating sounding laugh from Craig. He knew it was just how Craig laughs anyway, more focused on the inner turmoil he's been trying to wrangle with.

”Dude, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re getting all worked up because you’re refusing to accept your feelings.”

Stan grumbles and grunts, most of his frustration was at himself, but there was still apart of him that was frustrated at his friends. Wendy, Kenny, Cartman, Craig and Tweek; all of them so far seemed to understand what was going on with him. Stan still couldn't understand or more of refuses to understand how and why they saw right through the deepest parts of him even he refused to accept. 

"Answer me this," Stan says, raising his head slightly, "You two were, in a way, forced together back when those asian girls did those drawings of you guys, then the whole town became depressed when you broke up and all that crap. My question is, were you guys even in love back then or just friends?"

Craig shrugs and Tweek twitches a little more at the memory, "Who knows? Tweek was and still is my best friend. Being my best friend and being my boyfriend can co-exist, so why not have the best of both worlds, knowing that the person I love romantically about is someone I trust and cared about even before getting romantically involved."

Stan turns to look at Craig and the taller seemed to understand the other's confused expression, "It wasn't the asian girls that helped us fall in love, Stan. They just...sped up the process. I can't help how I feel for Tweek. Even if it was a mortifying experience, don't you think that the fact that me and Tweek are still together is proof that the feelings were and still are real?"

Craig said it so casually. It seemed so easy for him to admit that. Stan was perplexed, unsure. Were the feelings there the whole time, just lying beneath the surface, waiting to be dug out? Was Wendy correct the entire time? Because if so...that would have been 10 years of Stan being in love, and he didn't know if he could accept the fact that he had been in love for that long without realizing. He couldn't forgive himself for that. 

Tweek seemed to sense Stan's anxiety and confusion, "Hey dude. We're not saying you're the same as us just because it's a gay relationship. It's just- it's just, agh!" Tweek looks to Craig who immediately understands and continues for Tweek, "What Tweek is saying is that, what you may be feeling doesn't mean you were in love for that long. We were kids back then man, none of us really understood love. Heck, some adults don't either. It could have just been what feelings you felt that were friendship could have just slowly developed overtime."

Tweek feels Craig rest a hand on top of his from across the table, just like he's done a million times before. Tweek flashes a small, relieved smile at Craig, "Thank you."

Craig returns the smile as he locks eyes with Tweek, “You know, I freaked out too. Pretended I didn’t like him. I thought if I ignored it, it’d go away. But it just got louder. You guys just didn't see it because I was just as confused as you all were.” Craig shrugs, eyes fixed on the hand he was holding before looking up at his boyfriend, cracking a smile, “You can’t really logic feelings away, man. They don’t care if you’re ready or not.”

Stan half watches the exchange between the couple. They seemed to understand each other so well, how Craig can just sense what Tweek was trying to say and articulate it for him. He seemed almost envious of their relationship. Not even he and Kyle were like that....were they?

Wait why was he thinking of Kyle, he doesn’t love Kyle…or does he. Stan feels like he’s spiraling again and immediately shakes his head in denial.

"I...I never said that I was in love with someone." Stan mutters. Tweek and Craig exchange a look, and then look back at Stan. Tweek twitches and bangs his fist and his head on the table, frustrated, mumbling incoherently.

Craig's expression remains the same, "You talk and act like a man in love, yet you continue to deny your feelings. You're honestly hopeless. If you don't wanna take the advice, then leave it. "

Now that felt a little cruel. Stan fiddled with his fingers, but deep down, he knew Craig was right. And yet, he'd deny that too.

"I- sorry. I just need time to think." Stan slips out of the bench, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets again, his head hung low as he exits the cafeteria into the hallway.

"Don't run from it forever Stan, it'll come and bite you in the ass," Were the last words Stan heard before the cafeteria doors close behind him. 

Stan shuffles to his locker, not even bothering to look up at the people he almost runs into. He begins sorting his books for his next class mindlessly, his thoughts running wild as the words of his friends play like a broken record in his head with flashes of Kyle's worried face, and the tickling feeling that lingered on his cheek where Kyle had touched the day before.

As Stan was about to leave, he glances up and spots 3 familiar figures in the distance, but of course his stupid ass filter zooms in on the only one that mattered. Ginger hair, oversized orange hoodie and that green ushanka. It looked like Kenny was forcing Cartman to apologize to a less than pleased Kyle who had his arms crossed at the shortest of the group. 

"Ok ok, fine! Stopping pinching my ear Kienny!" Cartman smacks Kenny's hands away, "I'm sorry Kahl. I should not have said all those things yesterday about you. I was just trying to help you and Stan forgive each other. I was wrong in the way I went about it. Will you please forgive me?" His entire apology sounded like he was reading from a piece of paper (He was) and was completely disingenuous about it, not to mention that last sentence sounded more like a statement than a question.

"You better not pull that shit again, Cartman. I won't forgive you, but I can...see that you just were trying to push us talk again. But you need to come up with better ways to help encourage us to interact instead of trying to piss us off." Kyle sighs.

”Oh don’t you worry, Kahl. I have plenty of ideas up my sleeve to help you and Stan prepare for grand ole time~.” Cartman pulls out a condom from his pocket and he swore he saw flames shoot out of Kyle’s ears.

Cartman grumbles and shoves the condom back in his pocket, “Ok ok, I was just kidding. Don’t get your panties in a twist, Kahl, I said I was sorry.”

”Just go, Cartman.”

Stan didn't even realize the drool coming out of his mouth, or the fact that he could feel his stomach regurgitating its contents. 

No, don't try to reason with that bastard! You deserve better than that!

God, there's no denying it now. Not even Stan himself realized that Kyle had locked eyes with him. He was too distracted by that smile as Kyle said goodbye to the two to realize he was walking up to Stan. It was only when Kyle's face shifts to worry that Stan begins to snap out of it.

Stop staring stop staring stop star-

"Stan!"

Stan immediately swallows whatever the hell was in his throat and his body shiver, still not noticing the leftover liquid that foamed in his mouth. He tries to act cool and lean against the locker nonchalantly but his sweaty palms betray him and his hand immediately slides off, "Kyle- hey Kyle, what's...yeah...what. Uhm- sup, dude," Stan attempts to recover from that poor attempt at trying to impress Kyle and wipes his hands on his jacket.

"Are you ok?! You look like your about to vomit again! You got any tissue on you?"

"I- huh?"

"Hold on-" Kyle digs through his pockets and finds a handkerchief. Kyle cups Stan's cheeks again and reaches up slightly to wipe the rest of Stan's disgusting mouth. Meanwhile, Stan felt like his brain was melting and his body was floating, seemingly having a mind of its own as he leans into Kyle's touch like a lovesick puppy.

Kyle finishes and pulls back, taking a look at his disgusting handkerchief, "Sick, dude," Kyle says with no malice, earning a weirdly happy hum from Stan, "Are you ok? You've been weird since that whole thing with Cartman yesterday."

Stan feels his words stuck in his throat. But unlike his vomit (ew), he can't find it in himself to swallow it back, "It's…well, you know,” Stan rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “I- sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped like I did yesterday.”

Kyle frowns as his fingers graze the bluish-black bruise on Stan’s cheek, “Has no one else helped you treat this? It looks awful, dude. Did you even look in the mirror after the first time you beat Cartman up?”

Stan just shrugs, trying to ignore the rapid racing of his heart or his clammy hands, “Can’t be any worse than the injuries I get during football.”

“Stan.” Kyle says sternly, giving Stan a look that could make him both make Stan’s knees buckle and also send a chilling shiver down his spine.

”I swear, Kyle! I’ll be fine, promise.”

”God, since when did you become this reckless? I get football but…” Kyle’s voice trails off.

Stan rubs his shoulder awkwardly, “I- guess I can admit some of Cartman’s words got to me,” Stan mumbles, “He was just- he was talking about us and our friendship to put it simply."

”Very simply,” Kyle rolls his eyes. Stan could tell Kyle knew there was more to it, but grateful Kyle didn’t press any further. He did not need another close call, or worse, he vomits all over Kyle.

”I-I’m sorry. I just- I still care about you dude. I didn’t like the shit Cartman was saying about you and I guess all that emotional buildup got to me,” Stan says reluctantly.

Despite his denial of his romantic feelings, he had learn to accept over the years that he does miss his friend. Everything that went unsaid had been bubbling inside him, like a shaken can of soda waiting to explode at just the crack of the lid.

Kyle’s grip on the handkerchief tightens a little as memories from Stan’s drunken night flashes in both their minds, “I know and- and I- I'm sorry for that night, Stan.“

"Dude, it's ok. I put a lot on you and you always took care of me. I don't blame you for- "No! Don't...just don't put it all on yourself, Stan! I- I just..."

Kyle seemed to be stuck, but Stan waited patiently anyway. If it meant he’d get to talk to Kyle for longer, stare into his eyes just a little bit more, count the freckles that dust his nose and cheeks, he would wait a million years.

Even the tears that would stain his reddened cheeks made him just look all the more- wait…tears?

Stan’s eyes look at Kyle with more intensity as he realizes Kyle was struggling to speak with the tears slowly streaming down his face. He shouldn’t be finding his friend this handsome- this pretty, but he fucking does.

”Kyle-?” Stan attempts to comfort Kyle, but he feels the processed food build up in his throat again, causing him to gag.

Stan tries to keep it down, but watching Kyle’s tears gently trickle down his cheek only makes it worse. Stan could feel his chest tightening. He wanted to help Kyle so bad, just like they used to when they were kids. But no, he just lurches again, struggling to contain the contents of his meal.

"Stan-?" Kyle seemed to have caught on to Stan's sudden predicament and takes a step forward to reach out, but another hand was quicker and quickly cuts Kyle off.

”Stan! Are you alright?!” A hand shoots up to touch Stan’s shoulder and that’s all it took for Stan to throw up his mother’s leftovers.

Stan struggles to compose himself, one hand resting on the locker and the other on his knee, heaving heavily. He hazily looks ahead to see Kyle’s concerned tear-stricken face, wishing he could reach out to gently thumb his soft gentle cheeks and wipe off the stains of a broken friendship.

Stan’s gaze shifts down to a convenient plastic bag containing his emotional distress and turns to the side to see Wendy, a hand on his shoulder and the other holding the bag out for him.

”Fuck…” Was all Stan managed to say as he takes the bag from Wendy, “S-Sorry.”

Stan still felt nauseous, but he tries his best to still look at Kyle who’s gaze seems switch between the hand resting on Stan’s shoulder, and the bag of vomit.

”K-Kyle— I’m sorry that you had to see that. I- I promise I’m not drinking anymore. It’s just my CVS acting up again.”

Kyle seems to snap out of his trance and smiles at Stan, “Oh, don’t worry, Stan. I know, I believe you. Uhm…” Kyle fiddles with the handkerchief before handing it to Stan to clean up his mouth again.

“Here, so that you can clean yourself, it’s disgusting anyway,” Kyle chuckles half heartedly, “I’ll see you guys after school.”

Stan takes the handkerchief and his eyes dart between the stained piece of fabric and the retreating figure, eyes shining you could almost make out a heart shaped pupil. Wendy can only roll her eyes in disgust at how down bad Stan had become.

”It’s so incredibly obvious, Stan.”

Stan doesn’t reply, instead, he decides that the best answer was to slam his head into the locker multiple times that everyone in the hall snaps their head towards the repeated sounds of someone trying to give themselves a brain injury.

”Stan, stop it! Before I dump your bag of vomit over your head!” Wendy grabs the back of Stan’s jacket and yanks him backwards before he could further damage his head.

Stan stumbles backwards, feeling disoriented, “Please, just stick a needle in my eye right now.”

”Oh, stop being dramatic. At least you’re finally coming to your senses.”

Stan looks at the handkerchief in his hands and cleans his mouth while mumbling, “What do you mean?”

Wendy scoffs and places her hands on her hips, “Your feelings for Kyle!”

Stan goes red and pouts his lower lip, shoving the handkerchief into his pocket, “No I don’t.”

Wendy feels her frustration boil over, her hands twitching as she almost reaches out to strangle Stan, “Stop denying it!”

”You don’t know if I like Kyle!” 

“Tell me you’re fucking with me right now or did you not vomit just now because Kyle was talking to you.”

”He was crying,” Stan corrected her, as if he wasn't already losing the argument.

”So you did vomit because of him!”

Stan’s face goes pale and he shakes his head, “No! No I didn’t! I just…felt emotional cause he was emotional.”

It was amazing the lengths people will go to, just to continue to delude themselves and deny the truth because their scared. If it was in the Guinness book of world records, Stan would be the top contender.

”You- you are infuriating, you know that?! Why are you so scared to admit it to yourself how much you’re in love with him?!”

Stan frowns as he discards the disgusting bag, casting his gaze away from Wendy, “I’m not, Wendy. I just miss my best friend.”

”Stop fucking with me, Stan! The others told me about how you’ve been going around trying to figure out your feelings and yet you continue and continue to deny! You’re hurting yourself, Stanley, and you might hurt Kyle too if you keep this up. Don’t ruin this chance you have to make it up to him.”

Wendy could see the hesitation in Stan’s posture, watching him grip his thumb with his hand, “Stan, it’s ok if you don’t want to admit it to me or any of your friends, but the truth of the matter is that you’re hurting. You need to accept the fact that even if you don’t understand exactly what it is you’re feeling, that it’s something very strong.”

Stan could barely look at Wendy anymore, fiddling with the unstained part of the handkerchief in his pocket to try and soothe himself.

”You don’t have to say anything. Just be a little kinder to yourself and let yourself feel what you’re feeling.”

Stan’s head was a mess for the rest of the school day. Mostly because he had hit his head multiple times throughout the day, but also just the emotional turmoil that is leaving him torn. 

Stan will admit it that he cares for Kyle and missed him dearly, maybe that was the strong feelings Wendy meant and all his emotionally induced vomits were just cause he is finally able to reconnect with the friend he had been watching from afar for years. But then again, basing off past experiences, he had never had a bad case of CVS since Wendy and even then it wasn't this bad. Were his emotions just more intense this time, or maybe it's because he hadn't had his CVS act up in a while. Was he actually...?

'If you can imagine building a future together, or if you can find solace in each other, or you just want to share every bit of your life with them no matter how mundane, I'd call that love.'

Why was Kenny's words ringing in his ears? Stan closes his eyes to try and snap his focus back to his last class of the day, but his mind decides wander off and drown out the teacher’s dead voice.

It paints a picture of an apartment, small and cozy and decorated with trophies on the shelves, diplomas framed and hung on the walls. There was a cat somewhere in the mix, and sitting on the couch was a familiar figure. They had wrapped themselves up in the blankets, eyes glued to the tv screen with a controller in hand.

"You're home!"

Stan makes eye contact with a pair of emerald green eyes, ginger haired curls falling over their forehead as they pull the blanket off their head, "Hey, sweetheart," Stan heard himself say and approached the figure, flopping next to him on the couch. He could feel a pair of soft lips press against his cheek, and it was like the stresses of the day just melted away.

....

What the fuck was he thinking?! 

Stan snaps out of his daydream, his heart racing once again with his ears burning red. There's no way he just pictured Kyle now did he? All the signs were pointing right at his super best friend, and Stan was acting blind to every single one of it. Does he really want to continue this cycle of denial? Stan replays the scene of Kyle smiling up at him and greeting him like a partner greeting their loved one after returning home from a hard day at work.

Hold on, did he call Kyle 'Sweetheart'?!

Oh god, his stomach and head hurt.

Wendy was right, all this denying and stressing out over his complicated feelings were hurting him. Even just imagining Kyle makes him nauseous, but at the same time, is just another giant neon arrow pointing Stan towards the answer. Did he really want to keep playing this game and continue to walk down the path of denial? What was holding him back, really?

The day seemed to just wrap up in a blink of an eye as Stan mindlessly makes his way to the football field for practice, lost in his thoughts. Was he really losing it?

"Dude, are you ok?" Tolkien walks to Stan and nudges him while they were in the locker room and grabbing their gear before warmups.

Stan blinks a couple of times before returning to reality, "Huh- oh. No yeah, I'm good. Probably just stressed with school and also the upcoming season."

Tolkien frowns, "Craig told me you were being weird during recess."

Stan slams his locker close a little harder than he intended, causing Tolkien to flinch, "I- sorry."

Tolkien shakes his head and pats Stan on the back, "Dude, it's fine if you don't wanna talk, but it's only gonna get worse the further we get into the season and exams."

Stan gives Tolkien a forced thankful smile before walking ahead onto the field. The team eventually gathers by the track and begins stretching and getting ready while a small group of friends sit by the bleachers. Initially, no one paid much attention to the group. It's not new to have a small audience watching, mostly out of curiosity or freshmans wanting a shot at making the team. Most of the time, it’s just students finding a nice place to sit and chat. But as Stan stands up to put his gear on, he spots a familiar face in an orange parka chatting with Wendy, some other faces he recognizes and....oh god. No- not now, he can't vomit now!

Kenny looks down at the field and grins at Stan, giving him a big friendly wave, but Stan can see the hint of mischief in his expression. Was this Kenny and Wendy's idea of a joke? They brought the study group to the bleachers, to fucking study. But he knew damn well the two were using that as an excuse for Kyle to watch Stan practice.

This is it, this is where I die.

The coach blows his whistle and calls for the team to gather, catching Kyle's attention whos head snaps up and catches Stan looking over at them. The footballer could feel all the emotions from recess bubbling up again. Does he still want to keep denying it all? His heart was hammering against his chest, the sound almost louder than the coach's whistle. It was like the world had gone silent, no shouting, no sound of cleats scraping against the turf, just the rushing blood in his ear. Stan felt the ginger's eyes lock with his for a solid second, and it was a second too long.

Stan swore his heart just stopped the moment their eyes met. He quickly looks away, pretending that he was fixing his helmet over his head, but his hands were trembling so bad that Tolkien took notice when the quarterback didn't respond to the coach's whistle and walked over to him.

"Dude, you good?"

"Yeah- yeah, fine." Stan's voice cracks halfway. Great. Real convincing, Marsh.

"Riiiiight," Tolkien mutters, clearly not buying it and looks up at the bleachers and spots their friends. Tolkien grins and gives them a wave, and that’s when he notices Kyle was amongst the group, "Oh- ohhhh!"

Tolkien smirks and looks back at Stan, "So that's what's going on."

Stan growls and narrows his eyes, "Not now, Tolkien!"

The other surrenders his hands and chuckles, "Sorry, sorry- "Marsh! Black! Briefing, now!" The coach yells, earning the attention of everyone within the area. 

Stan feels his face burning and he quickly bends down to tie his cleats, mostly so that he could hide his face. Even from afar, he could still feel Kyle's gaze on him. It wasn't constant, not burning holes through him, but just there, watching. 

He eventually joins up with the team as the coach begins a pep talk for the opening kickoff the following week, but Stan's mind kept wandering off and his eyes soon followed, drifting up as they catch a flash of orange and green from the bleachers. It was like Kyle was a magnet and Stan was- well, whatever the fuck the opposite of emotional stability was. His stomach churned, and he silently prayed he wouldn't hurl mid-briefing.

"Marsh! You hearin me?!"

Stan snaps his head back towards the now glaring eyes boring holes into his skin, his eyes widened. The coach was tapping his clipboard with his finger impatiently, a permanent frown now deepened at the sight of his quarterback distracted by someone in the bleachers.

"Yeah- uh, got it, coach!" Stan had absolutely zero clue what he had just agreed to.

The whistle blows again, and the offence and defense players break into opposing teams on the field. Stan gets into position behind the center and tries to keep his mind focused. The ball, the smell of the turf, the last name of the center player printed on the back of his uniform, anything to drown the out the chaos in his head.

Stan looks around at everyone prepared in their respective positions, waiting for Stan. He inhales deeply, closing his eyes once more to lock in.

"HIKE!"

Stan throws himself into the game, With all the shouting, the sound of their feet running across the turf, the feeling of the ball between his fingers the moment it's in his hands, it seemed to work. But just for a fleeting moment. He was making a break for the goal line, until he hears laughter coming from the stands, and oh boy is he fucked. 

It wasn't even loud, nor was it mocking, just the kind of soft laughter that could only belong to Kyle. And suddenly, Stan's chest tightens, and all his progress from before crashes and burns. Stan is immediately tackled by both Tolkien and Clyde, and the coach blows his whistle, shaking his head in disappointment as Stan lifts his head off the grass.

Tolkien reaches a hand out and helps pull Stan onto his feet, "Stan, you're off today. Are you asking to get benched before kickoffs even start?"

"Shut up, man."

"Marsh! Head in the game, loverboy!" The coach yells, earning a collective snicker from the rest of the team, much to Stan's dignity.

"What's up with you, man?" Tolkien watches as Stan dusts off the soil on his uniform, muttering to himself.

"I'll be fine," Stan snaps back, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head, chalking it up to just something minor because of the tackle. He's suffered way worse. He's fine.

Coach blows the whistle again, "Marsh, if you're not dying, get back in formation and lock in!"

See? Totally fine.

Stan jogs back into position, but his legs feel heavy and that if he made one misstep, he'd crumble to the ground. Stan somehow manages to push through and get back into position reciting to himself a mental pep talk. All he needed to do was focus on the ball. Kyle's not watching, Kyle's not watching-

“HIKE!”

The next play starts as Stan's voice cuts through the air, and the ball snaps. Everything went so fast, almost too fast. He catches the pass, and makes a break for the left side of the field. But the moment he does, someone slams into his side. His vision goes white for just a second, and before he even got the chance to compose himself, another player hits him from the front.

There was a loud crack of helmets that sends a jolt through Stan's entire skull, and then he's on the ground.

A loud ring plays in Stan's ear as muffled voices gather around him. The whistle blows somewhere far away, but the ringing overpowers it. His head pounded like it was setting off fireworks on the 4th of July, and he could barely feel anything, probably still in shock from being tackled so easily. Stan tries his best to find his ground and push himself to sit up, but the field tilts, and his stomach churns violently in protest of his movements, now stuck with just his arms supporting him off the ground slightly.

"Stan- Stan! Stay down, man!" Tolkien yells frantically, now a little clearer as the ringing begins to fade.

Fuck fuck fuck- what the hell happened?

Stan groans in pain, pushing his helmet off and throwing it to the side as a crowd slowly gathers around him. Someone hands him some water but Stan was too disoriented to notice. He could feel the pain shoot up from the bottom of his spine to his head and he immediately brings a hand to his head, "...'Mfine," He slurs.

Nope, he's definitely not fine.

There's a blur of colors pushing themselves through the crowd at the edge of Stan's vision; orange, pink, blonde, blue.

Green.

Before he could even piece together what or who, the voices give him his answer.

"Stan, oh my god!" Wendy cups her mouth in shock.

"STAN!" Kyle's frantic, worried voice hits Stan harder than the throbbing pain in his head. Stan blinks up at the sky just in time to see Kyle drop to his knees beside him, breathless from running down the bleachers, eyes all wide and panicked.

"Stan- you're ok. You're ok, right? Tell me you're ok!" Kyle's hands hover hesitantly over Stan, choosing to wrap his arm around Stan's shoulder and support his neck.

Stan laughs weakly as he looks up at the worried green eyes, wincing shortly after. Oh, if he wasn't in so much pain, he'd probably accidentally blurt out a confession, "Yea- yeah. Just...testing gravity."

Stan could see a hint of a smile at Stan's dumb joke and he feels his heart flutter, "Idiot," Kyle mutters, voice shaking just enough to give away the fact that he was gonna cry.

Stan's coach crouches down in front of Stan, shoving a phone into his pocket, "You alright, Marsh? You took quite the fall there."

Stan nods and immediately regrets that action, groaning against Kyle who immediately brings a hand to hold Stan's. The coach studies Stan for a moment, but doesn't seem too worried as he assess Stan's situation.

"You're off your game today, kid."

"Are you kidding me?! He just took a hit and you're talking about how he's playing?!"

Stan watches as Kyle berates his coach, smiling to himself just hearing Kyle yelling someone's head off again. How he missed this. He gently squeezes Kyle's hand to calm him down and Kyle immediately turns his head back down to Stan worriedly.

The worried emerald eyes, the tears once again streaming down his face seeing Stan's face slowly droop as he begins to slip from Kyle's grasp. God, why was he so pretty?

”Stan?!”

He can't deny it anymore, can he?

”Stan!”

The edges of Stan's vision being to darken and the darkness slowly begins to encroach over his vision. The last thing he felt was Kyle squeezing his hand back and the muffled yelling of his name before everything fades.

Chapter Text

Stan's head hurt.

As his eyes are forced to flutter open and he's instantly hit with bright lights, the sound of a machine humming, and what seems to be Kyle's voice that was a second away from strangling someone. Stan was still in pain, and he squints to adjust to the bright white walls, staring up at the ceilings of what seems to be a hospital room, registering a few more voices nearby as he tries to find his strength after having just woken up.

“You guys are so gay. He’s been knocked down on the field before.”

”Well this is the first time I’ve seen it happen, fatass!”

”Stop calling me fat you jewboy!”

”What Cartman means to say is that, Stan will be fine, Kyle.”

”I can still be worried! He suffered a concussion!”

”And the doctors said he’ll be fine in one to two days! He’s not like you where if you fart, you get sent to the ER.”

”Kenny- I will strangle you!”

”Maybe Kahl is on his period again-

“For fucks sakes fatass, I’m not on my period!”

"The hippie is literally fine. Don't worry, you're not gonna become a widow yet. You're holding his hand as if he's on his deathbed."

"It's widower, fatass!

"Oh, so you two are married!"

"You motherfucker-!"

"Cartman, can you shut up?" Stan finally musters up the strength to speak and pushes himself to sit up on the bed. Everyone's head in the room snaps to turn to the awakened footballer.

"Stan!" Kyle's bright smile was the first thing Stan sees as he takes a better look of his surroundings. He had been sitting by Stan's hospital bed, holding his hand tightly, and oh boy, Stan is lucky he didn't get more sick that he already was.

"Kyle- what... happened?"

"You- you don't remember?"

"I... remember getting tackled on the field."

Kyle sighs in relief and hesitantly releases his vice grip on Stan's hand much to Stan's disappointment but he's not gonna say that out loud, "Yeah. You passed out, so your coach called for emergency services just to be safe. But the doctor's said it was only a minor concussion and that you'll be fine in a few days so you'll be able to play in the kickoffs next week. They're just gonna keep you overnight for observation."

Stan sighs hearing that he's staying in this dreaded hospital for a whole day, "We lose every season anyway. It's not like they desperately need me."

Kyle laughs softly and shakes his head, "Don't think like that, Stan. I'm sure you're still a great quarterback."

Stan's ears were burning red, and he still looked like a lovesick puppy as he feels himself wanting to giggle like a giddy schoolgirl, staring back at Kyle and wearing the dumbest smile on his face.

"Well hello to you too, Stan," Kenny and Cartman stand at the edge of Stan's bed, both of them staring at the other two with an amused expression.

"Yeah- yeah. Hi, Kenny," Stan mumbles disgruntledly.

Kenny can't help the snort that escapes, seeing Stan's immediate shift in demeanor. It's probably also because Cartman was there, but he knew deep down Stan just wanted some alone time with Kyle, "Don't pretend to be so happy to see me, Stan. Anyway, I'll call the others inside. They’re all waiting downstairs and wanna make sure you're ok."

Kenny leaves the room, leaving Cartman alone with the not-so lovebirds as Kyle was testing Stan's memory and vision, "Mom, Dad is fine."

"Shut the hell up before I beat your ass, Cartman!" Kyle screeches as he pulls away from Stan to stare down a snickering Cartman.

Stan winces at Kyle's yelling, bringing a hand to his head as it throbs a little, "Can you not rupture my eardrum right after I got a concussion?"

Kyle immediately snaps his attention back to Stan, panic flashing in his eyes, “Oh my god- sorry! I’m sorry, Stan. I didn’t mean to- “You’re fine, Kyle. Just- if you’re gonna beat Cartman up, lower the volume a bit.”

Cartman snorts from the other corner of the bed opposite of Kyle, “Yeah, Kahl, calm your tits. Your husband isn’t gonna abandon you and the kids yet.”

”Out!” Kyle points at the door.

”What?”

“OUT! Before I give you another reason to be in this goddamn hospital!”

Kenny does return with the others a little further behind but breaks into laughter seeing the chaos that had commenced for the few minutes he’s been gone, “C’mon man, before Nurse Kyle starts swinging the IV stands at you again and beats you like the pig you are,” Kenny grabs the back of Cartman’s jacket and drags him out of the hospital room.

Cartman tries fighting back, not appreciating the fact that he’s being dragged like a kid throwing a temper tantrum, “You people are abusive! This is the problem with you 99 percenters-“

The door shuts behind them.

"I thought he'd never leave," Stan mumbles under his breath, earning a chuckle from Kyle.

"Yeah, I'm starting to see how he managed to push you to your breaking point yesterday."

Stan shrugs, feeling brave as he takes Kyle's hand, "Hey, at least I'm able to talk to you again."

Kyle's face goes bright red and Stan could feel his heart race just at the sight of the flustered ginger, "You're talking like we had a messy break up."

"Technically we did."

"Shut the fuck up, Stan!"

Stan lets out a laugh and retracts his hand, "Look, I'm just happy to... to have my super best friend back."

Kyle's eyes glossed over, and the corner of his mouth is tugged up just that little bit more, and that's all it needed to do for Stan's stomach to somehow climb its way into his throat.

Just as Kyle was opening his mouth to speak, the door swings open and the rest of their friends run in frantically to check on Stan. The sudden rush of people causes the two to flinch and Stan to retract in his bed, "Stan! Are you ok?!" Tolkien's eyes dart between Stan's forehead and his eyes.

"Dude, I'm fine. Doctors apparently said I'll be good in one to two days."

"I-I'm so sorry, man! I was the one that shoved you to the side," Tolkien's hands were shaking, and a hesitant Clyde from behind walks up to the other side of Stan's bed where Kyle was sitting. He began wiping his tears, struggling not to cry, "And...I- I was the one who tackled you. I-I'm so, so sorry. I didn't think I hit you that hard I just-"

"You both are good, man," Stan chuckles softly and the genuine remorse and guilt in their eyes. He feels guilty himself for making them so worried in the first place, "If anything, I think...I kind of did it to myself."

The two footballers and Kyle give Stan a weird look, but Wendy, Craig, Tweek and Kenny, who finally returns after kicking Cartman out, all look at Stan with a knowing and unamused look.

"Don't ask," Stan sighs.

Tweek immediately throws his hands up in the air, jittering beside Craig, "I wasn't going to say anything!!!"

Craig wraps a comforting arm around Tweek, "If anything it might have finally set the gears in your head in place for once."

"I'm just surprised at how many hits it took to only give you a minor concussion," Wendy crosses her arms, recalling the now slightly dented locker that belonged to Stan.

"Do I wanna- nevermind," Kyle mutters. He picks up a glass of water and carefully hands it to stand, their hands gently brushing against each other, "Here. Small sips."

Stan takes the cup obediently, mostly just to keep Kyle from fussing any further over his condition, knowing how Kyle is, "Thanks, Nurse Kyle."

Kyle rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch, "Yeah yeah. Don't get used to it."

"But you always take care of me," Stan says quickly, and softly. Maybe that was a little too forward, or maybe it's gonna bring up painful memories from that night. They barely even got to talk about it before Stan had his vomit attack. But Stan didn't want to care anymore. He doesn't. 

"Ew, even Tweek and I aren't this mushy," Craig cringes.

Kyle grits his teeth and clenches his jaw as he takes the finished glass from Stan, "Do any of you ever stop?"

"Not when you two are flirting in 4K," Kenny pipes up from where he was leaning on the doorway, earning a snort from Wendy and a half-hearted glare from Kyle.

"I swear to God I will-"

"Ooook!" Tolkien immediately cuts in to hopefully avoid any more arguments, "We'll give you guys some space. Stan needs to rest anyway."

Clyde nods in agreement as he drags Craig and Tweek out the door, Kenny laughing as he makes eye contact with Kyle while holding the door open, "Yeah, before Nurse Kyle gives all of us a concussion."

"OUT!" Kyle huffs as they all filter out of the room, Kenny being the last one out the door, flashing a quick cheeky grin before closing the door. That left Stan and Kyle alone again in the room.

Stan snickers at how riled up Kyle had gotten thanks to the others teasing. Kyle shoots a glare in Stan's direction and he immediately raises his hands, "Sorry, sorry."

"Here, do you wanna let your parents know you're in the hospital?" Kyle goes to dim the lights and grabs Stan's phone by the night stand and hands him his phone before sitting back down.

"Nah, their helping my sister settle down in her new apartment in Denver. No point in worrying them when it's just a minor concussion."

"Well... I'll stay with you tonight then since everyone else ditched you."

Stan's smile quivers, mostly because he can feel his stomach making its way through his throat now, "I... appreciate that, dude. But are you sure? I don't think that chair would be that comfy to sleep in."

Kyle shivers a little from how cold the hospital is, "I'll be fine. For once, I'm not the one on the bed."

Stan grabs his jacket sitting on top of his bag nearby and covers Kyle with it, and oh fuck he feels a vomit coming-

Stan chokes on himself but manages to keep it down for now, his eyes watering a little as he composes himself, “At least keep yourself warm, dude.”

Kyle blinks in surprise at the sudden warmth wrapped around his shoulders, glancing at the fabric of Stan's varsity wrapped around his back, "Wha- "Someone's gotta take care of you too, dude," Stan mumbles as he turns his back to Kyle, trying to keep himself from puking because oh god if he turns back around and sees Kyle actually wearing it, it's all over.

Kyle blinks again, taking the red jacket and admiring the thick material, it's white sleeves all dirtied up that you could barely make out the yellow accents against it, and the collar and wrists were slightly worn out. Kyle turns it around to see the back, and 'MARSH' was neatly stitched onto the back in white except for the 'M' with visible stitch marks, probably sewn back on by Stan's mom. Kyle could feel his face go beet red, and yet Stan gave it to him so casually. It didn't really mean anything...did it?

"Thanks, Stan," Kyle mumbles as he pulls his arms through the sleeves. He's lucky the jacket was big enough to fit the already thick hoodie underneath, and both layers provided better warmth for his body to start trembling less.

There's a beat of silence that hangs in the room. It was quiet but not uncomfortable like the two thought it would be. The gentle hum of the monitor fills in the gaps as Kyle fidgets with the ends of the sleeves, tracing the small grooves of some of the frayed ends.

"Dude, you scared me out there," Kyle finally breaks the silence, his tone soft and hesitant, "When you didn't get up after a few seconds, I thought you really fucked your head up."

Stan flips onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He could see in his peripheral vision that Kyle had the jacket on and only lord knows what would happen if he tilted his head another 20°, "Guess all that milk paid off."

"Sick dude."

"Aw- don't be dirty minded right now!"

Kyle tries to laugh, but it still cracks a little, and Stan can't stand that. He sits up on the bed and looks at Kyle, seeing his eyes watering a little. Stan knew Kyle was probably replaying what happened in his head and all the worse case scenarios were flooding in. That was Kyle, always overthinking.

Stan reaches a hand out to take Kyle's, "Hey, I'm fine, Kyle. We're fine, and we're here. I'm alive."

"I know- I know, I just-" Kyle struggles to hold back his emotions, exhaling sharply, "I couldn't have- I just... I miss you dude. And I know I hurt you that night. I just didn't want things to have ended the way it did that night if something really bad had happened today."

Stan feels his heart twist as he starts to feel a little bolder. He pats the side of his bed for Kyle who hesitates and tries to argue back but Stan was insistent. With no will to protest further, Kyle climbs onto the weirdly spacious hospital bed and sits cross legged, facing Stan.

"I... have many questions, Kyle. So many. From how have you been to..." The words die on Stan's tongue as he lets out an exasperated sigh, "But for now, I just-"

Stan hadn't looked up at Kyle yet. He dared not to, not after his pathetic display earlier in the day. He somehow manages to find the strength to control himself and manages to keep his stomach down and looks up hesitantly. With the room now dark, the only source of light was the moonlight now streaming in through the window behind them, casting its light directly onto Kyle and oh fuckity fuck fuck was Stan going to vomit his water from earlier.

Kyle's hat was now left on the chair, his ginger hair now free with loose curls bouncing with every little head movement. In all the cold and blue of the Colorado winter, Kyle's hair was so bright and warm.

Don't get Stan started on the eyes again, he will barf.

"I just... miss you."

Kyle bites his lip, avoiding Stan's gaze, and quickly wipes his tears on the sleeve of Stan's jacket, "You're such a sap, dude," Kyle tries to distract himself and grabs his textbook and homework out of his bag, but he doesn't leave the bed, much to Stan's delight.

"Dude."

"What?"

"Your jacket kinda smells like vomit."

After a night of studying and helping Stan with his math homework and force feeding Stan the disgusting hospital dinner (He vomited after Kyle tried to feed him), the two do eventually fall asleep. Kyle was curled into a fetal position by Stan's leg while Stan was sprawled out with a leg hanging off the side, kicking the blanket conveniently over Kyle's sleeping frame.

But unfortunately as the earth rotates, the days always reset. Sunlight creeps in through the window, filling the room with a harsh glow. Both boys remain asleep as the hospital room's door creaks open. Sheila and Gerald had come looking for Kyle after they happened to stumble upon Kenny where they learnt of his whereabouts.

Needless to say they were surprised to hear that not only was Kyle talking with Stan again, but keeping him company at the hospital.

Kyle seemed to have sense his parents presence as he slowly shifts and pulls the blanket over and tries to push himself off the bed slightly, "M... a?"

"Hi Bubbeleh, we just came to check on you and your little friend. Is everything alright?"

”He’s fine, Ma,” Kyle rubs his eyes as he cranes his neck to look around and better understand where he was before realizing he was sharing the damn bed with Stan.

”You both look… comfy,” Gerald gives Kyle an odd look.

Kyle rolls his eyes, “We studied late last night and I guess I must have gotten tired and passed out on the bed.”

Sheila comes up to Stan’s bedside, gently using the back of her hand to push up his messy black hair and frowns at the slight bruising, “He’ll be ok, Ma. It’s probably some football scrapes or something.”

”Oh alright. At least he seems fine,” Sheila pulls her hand back, noticing the drool coming out of Stan’s mouth and the light snoring, “Are his parents coming to pick him up?”

Kyle shakes his head no as he now sits on the edge of the bed, shifting up to look at Stan’s stupidly adorable sleeping face, “He said that they’re in Denver and that he didn’t wanna worry then. Plus he's already 18 so he can discharge himself later on.”

Both Kyle’s parents look closely at their son and the expression he was wearing as he looked over Stan. Not to mention the jacket wrapped around him. They exchange a look and one of them was about to open their mouth to ask but their alleged son’s boyfriend seemed to have stirred in his sleep due to the noise.

Stan eyes were forced open as he adjusts to the light, “Hngh… Mrs Brofvolski?”

”Oh! Good morning, Stan! It’s been a while since we’ve gotten to see you.”

”Y-Yeah…” Stan mumbles, still a little delirious and confused. He blinks a few times as the fog in his brain begins to clear, actually processing who was standing by his bedside and immediately wipes his mouth of his drool.

"Mr and Mrs Broflovski! S-Sorry... I just wasn't expecting visitors this early."

Gerald chuckles politely, "No worries, kid. You looked like you needed the rest."

Sheila smiles warmly, but there was this glint in her eye as she gives a quick glance at Kyle that made him nervous, "I'm glad you're doing better, dear. Your little friend Kenny told us Kyle wouldn't stop fussing over you the entire time."

"Ma!" Kyle hisses under his breath, his face turning bright red.

Stan laughs weakly, hoping the entire time he doesn't vomit as he realizes how close Kyle was to him, "Yeah well... he's been really great. It was good company since my parents are in Denver and we managed to still study a bit. If it weren't for him, I'd probably concuss myself even more trying to solve the algebra equations."

"That sounds about right," Gerald hums.

Sheila folds her arms, smiling brightly, but her tone takes on that 'teasing mom 'voice, "Well, it’s nice you two are talking again. But you two seem very close again. Like, very."

Kyle narrows his eyes and raises a brow. No words needed to be spoken as Gerald and Sheila's eyes dart from the back of the jacket and to the one wearing it, "What?" Kyle looks at his parents, a little concerned at the wide grin on his mom's face and the weird look his father wore.

"Well kid, wearing your boyfriend's jacket is one way to soft launch your relationship to us."

"Huh?" Kyle looks down at himself as the realization dawns on up. Meanwhile, Stan had grabbed a bag to be prepared for an inevitable vomiting session.

It's too early for this shit.

"MA, DAD! IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!" Kyle's face was burning red as he quickly scrambles off the bed, but falls to the ground.

"Kyle!" Stan immediately sits up and jumps off the bed, helping Kyle sit up right, "Dude! Are you ok?!"

Kyle's face was still bright red as he rubs the back of his head, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... trying to escape mortification and succumbing to gravity."

Stan lets out a laugh but easily helps Kyle onto his feet, supporting Kyle with a hand around his waist (No he won't vomit, he won't fucking vomit- where the fuck did he put his barf bag?!), "Guess the floor tackled you harder than Clyde did me."

"Don't," Kyle warns Stan, shooting him a glare as Stan helps him to sit on the bed, but loses all its edge immediately when he notices Stan's dopey, lovesick grin.

Sheila presses her hands to her chest, fighting back a delighted squeal, "Oh, Gerald, look at them! Our boy chose such a gentleman!"

"MA!"

"Are we having a traditional or a jewish wedding! Oh what about two different weddings! How many kids- "MA!, CUT IT OUT!" Kyle was absolutely mortified, humiliated, and wraps the jacket around his face to try and preserve whatever dignity he had left.

However, Stan was too caught up in his own feelings and the intimacy of his hold around Kyle and how fuckin cute he looked- someone will need to restrain him before he begins knocking his head around again.

"I don't need you narrating my life like it's some cheesy romcom!" Kyle huffs, his face was almost matching his hair.

Gerald was trying but failing to hide his smile, "You have to admit it though, Kyle. It does look suspicious."

"Suspicious?!" Kyle sputters, "It's called being a decent human being! He fell, I fell, we help each other!"

The teens themselves don't even notice that Stan still had his hand resting on the small of Kyle's back— almost protectively. Maybe he was still a little on edge after Kyle fell of the bed, but the two seemed a little too cozy for a pair of friends that were only just rekindling their friendship, "Yeah, uh, no wedding plans here, I swear! I mean, I uh- not that I wouldn't... you know Kyle... I mean- yeah, you know..."

Kyle shoots Stan a glare that could kill a man, but it definitely would kill Stan himself via ramming his own head against the wall if he wasn't already injured, "Go on Stanley Marsh, what was it that you were gonna say? Finish that."

Stan immediately snaps his mouth shut, "Nope! Not doing that! I plead the fifth!"

Sheila, however, was loving this display of aggressive affection, "Oh don't be shy, Stan! I'm sure you and my Bubbeleh know you don't have to hide anything. And you've grown to become such a nice and handsome young man! It was only a matter of time before Kyle began swooning over you."

Kyle looked like he was going to pass out from the sheer embarrassment, "MA, ENOUGH!"

"Oh! Remember their matching friendship bracelets and then they said that they were married!" Sheila shakes Gerald's arm excitedly.

"Yeah, I remember. It's still sitting on his desk," Gerald was quick to agree in hopes his wife relaxes her grip on his arms and stops shaking him.

"We were eight, Ma!"

"Still counts," Gerald shrugs.

Meanwhile, Stan had gone completely pale from both the impact of the current conversation on his nerves and the nausea he's been fighting the entire time he's been in the hospital is coming back with a vengeance, "K-Kyle..." Stan tugs on Kyle's sleeve, "Barf bag."

That immediately shuts the teasing down as Kyle jumps into action and helps Stan settle down back on the bed while Gerald finds the fallen barf bag on the floor.

Kyle steadies Stan as he hunches over on the bed, groaning weakly as Sheila cups her mouth, a hand over her chest as her heart aches at the sight of Stan's weak state, "Oh, the poor thing."

Kyle rubs Stan's back as he sits on his haunches on the bed space beside Stan, "Easy, dude. You're ok."

Stan mumbles something that sounded like an apology as he finishes another round of vomiting his guts out in front of Kyle. His breathing begins to slowly even out, but he keeps his eyes shut as he feels the room continue to spin around him.

The teasing atmosphere had dropped almost immediately as Gerald looks out the door for a nurse, "Should we call someone?"

"No, it's likely Stan's CVS rather than the concussion. Just...don't tease him anymore or else he has another spell. It might aggravate his concussion," Kyle shakes his head as he continues to now rub Stan's shoulder.

Concern was etched deep into Sheila's expression, "You really do take care of him well, Bubbeleh."

Kyle looks away, shrugging, as he climbs onto the bed and finds a comfortable position to monitor Stan, "Just... trying to be a good friend," He says incredibly soft that time. Stan could see the guit buried deep in Kyle's expression, and he didn't like the look on him.

Stan's lip twitch into a faint, tired smile, "See, he's the best nurse."

Kyle gives Stan a half exasperated and half worried look, "Don't even start, Stan. Do you want me to keep you in here longer."

"If you'll continue to take care of me," Stan mumbles, looking away immediately and feeling like a complete idiot. Why the hell did he say that?!

"I'll go find a doctor," Gerald makes a quick exit out of the room as Kyle berates Stan for being sappy.

Sheila watches the two for a moment longer, torn between worry and the fondness tugging at her expression. “You boys,” she sighs, shaking her head softly before moving to adjust the blanket around Stan. “He’s burning up a little. Kyle, make sure he doesn’t get up again, alright?”

Kyle nods, trying not to sound as frazzled as he looks, "Yeah, I got it, Ma."

Stan groans weakly from under the blanket, “You don’t gotta- “Shut up, Stan,” Kyle interrupts, pressing a gentle hand against his chest to keep him from moving. “You’ve lost your ‘talking privileges’ until your stomach stops trying to turn inside out.”

Sheila lets out a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair Stan's face like he was her own son, “You’ve got this under control, Bubbeleh. We’ll wait outside for the doctor.”

The door clicks shut and Kyle finally felt like he could breathe again before turning to look at Stan, "It's like every interaction I've had with you has ended you choking on your innards."

Stan looks away to try and hide the panicked feelings bubbling inside again. The signs were flashing right in front of him again, but he wanted to keep denying it all. What was he so afraid of?

"You enjoy taking care of me anyway."

"Yeah yeah, you're lucky I still care about you, dumbass."

"Mm, wonder how I figured that out," Stan flashes a delirious smile as he leans his head back against the pillow.

Kyle couldn't help running his fingers through Stan's hair to soothe him after his vomiting fit, "You're annoying."

"-and lovable~!" Stan adds as he sing-songs his words.

Kyle rolls his eyes but can’t help the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “Get some rest, Stan. Before your mom kills me for not keeping you alive.”

Stan gives a sleepy thumbs-up before his hand flops back onto the blanket. Within minutes, his breathing evens out again, and Kyle just sits there, still perched on the bed, jacket wrapped loosely and hanging off one shoulder while he continues to run his hand through Stan's hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

...Like as if that night never happened.

"I miss you, Kyle. I really do."

Kyle's lips tremble as he tries to find his words, but they were stuck in his throat, only being able to flash a smile down at Stan in return. Stan didn't need to hear whatever Kyle had to say, he knew. He already knew.

From just outside the room, peering through the window, Sheila's voice echoes through the room as she spots her husband returning with the doctor,"Gerald, I'm telling you, they're in love with each other!"

Kyle smacks his forehead while Stan struggles to hold back another vomit, "I hate my life."

"Here’s the last of your papers, Mr Marsh. Remember, no extraneous activities, especially football, for 2 days. You might still feel a little dizzy so don’t go running about either for the next 24 hours, especially with the medication you just took. Take care!"

Stan thanks the receptionist and takes his papers, joining Kyle and his parents who were waiting by the car, “Thanks for allowing me to stay with you guys until my parents get home, Mr and Mrs Broflovski.”

"Oh don't worry, my dear! You're like a son to me. Once you’re feeling better we can head to your place and grab whatever you need for the week," Sheila swings the rear doors open for the boys to hop in, fussing over Stan a little to make sure he's alright despite Kyle's protest that Stan was in fact, fine. She eventually relents and gets in the passenger's seat, but she keeps turning back every now and again, nagging Gerald to slow down if Stan's head even tilted just a bit.

Stan slides in his seat, putting his satchel behind his head as support, "Seriously, Mrs Broflovski, I'm fine. This is kind of a normal occurrence for us football players anyway."

"Nonsense! What if we hit a pothole and you go flying about in the car? We have to be careful so that we can get you to bed safely."

Stan laughs as he lazily points finger guns at Sheila's chair in front of him, "Guess that'd make it a double concussion."

Kyle rolls his eyes and folds his arms, "Don't give her ideas dude. She's gonna start covering your head in bubble wrap and foam."

"That's actually a great idea, Bubbeleh!"

"Ma, don't please," Kyle drags his hand down his face, "Just stay out of it and let me take care of him."

Gerald chuckles from behind the wheel, "You know Kyle, I've never seen you so... motherly before."

"I'm not motherly! I'm just- someone has to make sure he doesn't die!"

Stan smiles, his eyes closed in content as he leans against his bag. He can slowly start to feel the medication kick in as his body felt light and drowsy, "Thank you, Nurse Kyle."

"I'm starting to regret talking to you again," Kyle mutters, but Stan knew that Kyle didn't mean anything by it. A dead giveaway was the red cheeks and the upside down smile he was trying to hide. Stan would also be blushing followed by the usual vomit sesh, but not in the moment. Perhaps the medication was helping him given he had no flare ups of his CVS for a good portion of the car ride.

"You know that's a lie."

Kyle shrugs, leaning his head against the car window, "Yeah... I know."

The rest of the car ride was quiet for the most part, save for Sheila's occasional fussing about tiny potholes and bumps on the road and 'comforted' by Gerald's dry reassurances. Eventually, they manage to pull into the Broflovski's driveway without incident.

Sheila opens the door and Kyle comes around to see if Stan needed help.

"I'm- fine..." Stan wobbles as he stands up, feeling all the blood rushing to his head as he feels his body sway against Kyle, who grabs Stan's arm and wraps it around his own neck.

"Careful, dude! I'll- help you inside," Kyle struggles a little, his own walk staggering under Stan's weight leaning against him. But Stan was enjoying watching Kyle slowly limp both of them to the front door. Whatever this medication is, it's some miracle drug or else Stan probably would have crumbled physically and emotionally given how their hands are all over each other.

"Carry meeee~!"

"F-uck! Dude, you're heavy," Kyle wheezes as he tries to straighten his legs under the crushing weight resting on his shoulders.

Stan grins dizzily. It was cute watching Kyle's lighter frame struggling to carry him into the house. Or was that the drugs talking, "Maybe it's a sign for you to hit the gym."

"And- I'm gonna- hit you... if you don't- fucking stand up straight," Kyle struggles to keep his balance as they stagger towards the front door where Sheila was waiting with the door wide open, "What the hell kind of meds did they give you?! Help me out a little! I can't support all of your weight!"

“Not my fault you're weak ass,” Stan slurs with a smirk.

”I’m not weak, you’re just a fucking beef cake apparently!”

”Am not! I'm just a little bulkier than you because of football,” Stan mumbles as Kyle drags him to the couch and watches Stan flop onto his belly, "See? That was easy!"

"You almost crushed me and broke my spine!"

"Great, then we can be roommates!"

Before Stan could even register what was happening, a pillow comes down right on his head multiple times, "AHH- abuse! Help, the nurse is attacking the patient!" Stan is forced to lie on his back and put his arms up in defense while snickering.

Kyle continues his relentless attack, smacking Stan everywhere across his body in his phoney rage, "You're lucky I don't smother you with it instead!"

Stan surrenders his hands while he calms down from laughing so hard, "Ok ok, I forfeit! I'm still concussed, remember?"

"You deserve it for calling me weak, you short ass motherfucker!"

"I'm like your height ya know," Stan exclaims in mock offense although in hindsight he doesn’t actually know what their height difference is anymore, " Plus all I said is that it's a sign to hit the gym."

Kyle grumbles and gives one last good hard smack of the pillow against Stan's chest, "I am perfectly content with my physical strength!"

"You boys stop roughhousing or else no dinner tonight!" Sheila yells from the kitchen as Gerald carries the last of their belongings inside glancing at the boys.

"Will you be sleeping here on the couch, Stan?"

Stan calms down from laughing and regains his composure, "That depends on my nurse here."

Kyle folds his arms with a huff, "Maybe you deserve to just sleep on the couch."

Stan wipes a tear from his eye, "That's not how you should treat your SBF!"

"S...BF? Boyfriend?" Gerald pauses in his steps towards the kitchen, giving the teens a puzzled look.

Kyle's face immediately freezes and he turns red, yelling defensively, "Super Best Friend, Dad! It was something we called each other when we were kids!"

Sheila pokes her head out from the kitchen, drying her hands with a towel, "Bubbeleh, don't yell at your father! Also you should have Stan stay in your room, like old times!"

Kyle tries to calm his reddening face, "MA! We're not ten anymore!"

"Well that boy needs a proper bed! You can grab the inflatable bed in the storage room and sleep on that!"

At this point, it's expected to see Stan trying to keep his food down in a corner while hiding his face and denying himself of the truth. However, Stan seemed a little too laxed thanks to the medicine and was not even trying to be discreet as he stares at Kyle's gorgeous eyes. He wasn't entirely in the moment, but he doesn't register the rest of the conversation where Kyle eventually relents to his mom.

"Oi, Stan! Are you spacing out," Kyle snaps his finger once to bring Stan out of whatever trance he was in and giggles, "Come on, dude. I'll just take you to my room. No point arguing with my mom at this point."

Stan is disgruntledly pulled off from the couch and back to leaning his weight against poor Kyle who has to lug his body up to his bedroom. Unfortunately, the ascent up the stairs is an olympic event in itself, and even more so with Stan's purposeful sabotage as he leans most of his weight on Kyle.

"Have the stairs gotten smaller or am I actually that tall?"

"Or maybe you should shut up and help me-!" Kyle yells in frustration as he pulls Stan up another step, "You're not that medicated, so stop being a child!"

Once they finally reach the top, Kyle is practically drenched in sweat, and is face to face with Ike who had just came out of his room after hearing the commotion. Ike's eyes shift from Kyle, and Stan whose arm was wrapped around Kyle's shoulder, "Weren't you two... like not talking?"

Kyle narrows his eyes as a warning to Ike, who shrugs it off and pulls his headphones over his head and passes the duo to join his parents downstairs. With an eye roll, Kyle drags Stan and drops him onto his bed with a small 'oof', "I think I deserve to get carried around next time after the shit you put me through today."

Stan blows a raspberry with a drowsy look, "Psh- that's easy."

"Don't get so cocky."

"Hehe, cock."

Kyle grumbles as he moves about in his room, finally changing out of his clothes from the day before, including Stan's jacket which Stan is more saddened than he'd like to admit that Kyle is changing into his pajamas.

"When was the last time you washed this damn thing?" Kyle recoils in dramatic disgust as he picks up the jacket, fretting mainly over the yellowish white sleeves. Stan shrugs in response with a mischievous smile, "Ew. I'm tossing it with the rest of my laundry then."

"You still wore it!" Stan calls out as Kyle takes his basket of laundry out of the room and chuckles lightly.

With Kyle gone, Stan takes the opportunity to look around Kyle's room. It looked just the same as it did the last time he was in there, just a little more grown up. The same posters and pictures decorated the wall, just with more university posters. A big whiteboard decorated with a to-do list and an organized mess of notes was sitting against the wall and colored markers scattered across the floor. A drawer holding the TV sat at the foot of the bed with a nintendo switch and a PS5 with two controllers neatly placed beside it (Of course there's an Xbox hidden behind it). By Kyle's study table hung on the wall was a giant cork board filled with printed notes, the latest class schedule, and in the dead centre was the picture of the 4 boys as kids.

Stan decides to leave the bed and take a closer look at the board that had caught his attention while Kyle was bringing the laundry downstairs. Melancholy settled in Stan's chest, and in that moment, the effects of the medication he was under has all but faded the moment he laid eyes on their past selves.

Memories from his drunken night flood his head once again, and the guilt pools in his stomach. Stan still had so many questions on top of wrangling his complicated feelings towards Kyle. Overwhelming as it was, for now, Stan was satisfied. Satisfied to have his best friend back. He'll work his way up to that point eventually. And as much as he is enjoying being cared for by Kyle, he does not want another Kyle/football-induced concussion if he even so much as attempts to hold back his stomach by ramming his head against the wall.

Stan flopped back onto the bed, letting the room lazily spin around him. Everything about this room screamed Kyle, maybe just a little more grown up, but it was the same old Kyle that Stan knew. He squinted at the photo once more, smiles plastered on their faces and their arms slung over each other with cheeky grins hit his chest like a gentle punch. Memories of all the chaos caused, superhero franchises, arguments and fighting, and... the night the two went their separate ways all rolled together. The moment now felt bittersweet. 

But underneath all the layers of feelings that have been settling in Stan's heart, a strange comfort settled in. Kyle was back, he was here, just like old times.

"Hey dude."

Stan is snapped back to reality and cranks his head to see Kyle sitting next to him on the bed, "You good?"

"I didn't even hear you come in," Stan laughs to himself as he sits back up and leans against the headboard, "Yeah, just... thinking. It's just weird being back in your room after so long I guess."

Kyle shrugs, "Guess it hasn't changed that much. Just enough notes to fill a swimming pool probably."

Stan nods as his eyes land on a poster for UCLA, his heart dropping a little "California?"

Kyle follows Stan's gaze and he hesitantly nods, "Yeah, they have the best psychology program. Although I'm not sure of a specific track to follow yet."

Stan could feel the words tickling his throat. He struggles to find words to say, to try and express the things he's been suppressing for years. He knew deep down it would be a lot for him to be even noticed by any school in California if he wanted to pursue animal sciences. Not even football would probably help him given their track record. 

"Hey, don't look so down. Nothing's set in stone yet," Kyle smiles softly and places a hand on Stan's shoulder. Stan could feel his eyes flickering between the hand and Kyle's pretty face.

"I guess... I just don't want us to grow apart again. Not after so long."

"Hey, we still have time to make up for it. We can talk about all that another time."

Kyle watches as Stan leans his head back against the headboard. He's definitely still a little bothered, but a small smile still forms on his face. For now, they'll just live in the moment, "Anyway, enough feelings. I'm gonna kick your ass in Mario Kart again!"

Stan looks back down at Kyle with a smirk, "Oh yeah? You and your 50cc and baby ass characters?"

Kyle scoffs as he shifts forward to set up, "Yeah yeah, keep talking. I'd finish a lap while your concussed ass is re-learning how to use your thumb on a controller."

The TV is immediately booted up as Kyle sets up the switch into the dock. Stan smiles a softly to himself as a picture of their younger selves playing with cars, battling on WOW, and the back and forth banter between them flashes in his mind. What was normal for 7 years became foreign, and where he sat right now, on Kyle's bed and spending time with him, felt normal again. He was right where he was suppose to be. 

Yeah, for now, this is all he needed.

Except that he vomited again an hour later when Kyle started laughing and smiling brightly after Stan finally gave him a win.

"Sick dude!!!"

Chapter Text

A week has passed since Stan was concussed and began talking to Kyle again. He seemed to have gotten better when having casual conversations with him. Afterall, Kyle had been his best friend for a long while.

Apart from the occasional bouts of awkwardness, lurching, and hiding in the bathroom from Kyle, the two have slowly fallen back into their old rhythm of hanging out and joking around, finally being Stan and Kyle once more. Stan had finally overcome the first hurdle as they both have finally become comfortable around each other.

Well, almost.

"Hey, Stan~!" Kenny wraps an arm around Stan while he was making his way to recess, "Off to have lunch alone with Kyle again?"

"I don't 'have lunch alone' with Kyle. You guys have decided it would be funny to ditch us and migrate to another table," Stan rolls his eyes, coughing a little as his voice comes out a little rough from the shit he had put his throat through.

Kenny shrugs it off, "Think of it as us doing you both a favor."

"What favor?" Stan opens his locker and begins putting books away, trying to act as casual as possible.

Kenny shrugs, leaning on the locker next to Stan with his arms crossed, "Come on, Stanley. You know exactly what I mean by 'doing you a favor'."

"Kenny, I don't- "What? Don't have feelings for Kyle? How many times are you gonna keep denying when your face and puke says otherwise."

Stan takes in a deep breath to try and hold back his tongue, struggling to maintain a nonchalant expression. Their friends must have been able to see the change in his demeanor since he and Kyle started talking again. While he hadn't noticed a difference himself, the teasing and the pushing towards each other have grown in attempts and desperation.

"You guys can't force something that I have been saying isn't there."

"Stan, no one's buying that bullshit. No one but probably Kyle,” Kenny scoffs in amusement, “You'd think someone so smart would have figured it out with how much you puke around ‘em.”

Stan finds himself clenching his fist, fighting his body against throwing a punch, "For fucks sakes Kenny, can't you leave it alone?"

"And watch you suffer when the very thing that's bothering you won't?" Kenny challenges Stan, but he doesn't raise his tone, nor do his words show any malice, "You vomited and tried to fight Cartman twice the first day whe Kyle looked at you, you got fucking concussed, and vomited- god knows how many times the second and third day you two began talking. Your voice is messed up from how much you have been puking! You can barely look Kyle in the eyes when you guys talk!"

Stan’s mouth quickly shuts. He’s starting to grow tired at his friend’s insistence, but his thoughts are quickly interrupted by Kenny who seemed to have already know what he’s thinking.

“Look, I understand if you’re uncomfortable, and for that, I am sorry,” Kenny rests a hand on Stan’s shoulder as he locks eyes with the raven haired boy, “Most of it comes from a place of love because it’s driving us all crazy to see you torturing yourself. You’re spiraling, Stan.”

Stan tries to act aloof about it and gently pulls Kenny's hand off, "I'm not- "Don't. Just don't, Stan. You may think you're ok but the amount of times you've been physically holding back your emotions is destroying you mentally and physically. Not to mention it's only gotten worse since you and Kyle started hanging out again."

"Ok, let's say I am in love with Kyle, what then?!"

Kenny blinks, then grins, "So you are!"

"I didn't fucking say that!" Stan slams his locker door shut a little too hard, "I'm just- hypothetically speaking!"

Kenny hums as he shoves his hands into his pocket, "Uh huh. The guy you were vomiting over, slamming your head so much you got a concussion over, the guy you said to keep your jacket to because you don't wanna admit you just want to see him wear it again even though it's been a week since he finished cleaning it for you, is all 'Hypothetical'?" Kenny does bunny quotes in the air as he emphasizes the last word.

"I am not ruining what we have now, Kenny," Stan exclaims, his hand clenching around the strap of his satchel, "We just started being friends again. If- If I mess this up, that's it. I lose him, and I can't-" Stan stops himself and clenches his jaw, "I just... can't."

"Lose him how?! By liking him too much?" Kenny questions, now exasperated. He can see Stan's walls slowly starting to crack, so it's one step closer to getting Stan to admit the truth, "Stanley, It's already happening."

Stan takes in a deep, shaky breath and squeezes his eyes shut as he thinks back to the night he spent in the hospital. 

Kyle's pretty face under the moonlight and how in contrast to the dark room, Kyle's fiery red hair and gorgeous green eyes stood out. Kyle's face was a canvas of constellations, his freckles shining like stars in the sky that Stan couldn't stop gazing at. It was almost unfair how effortlessly pretty his friend was, like the light bent itself to find him. It was a sight that tugged at something deep in Stan's chest that he still dares not name.

Kenny softens a little, "Stanley, I get it. You're scared, but maybe that's why you shouldn't keep hiding it," Kenny laughs to himself for a second as he pictures something in his head, "If you won't confess, your emotional mouth-constipation all over Kyle might. And I'm pretty sure you'd like your confession to be more romantic than that."

"Dude, not helping."

"Sorry, Stan, but it's the truth. It's only a matter of time before you break. Cartman even has a running bet on when you'll crack."

"He what?!"

Kenny grins devilishly, "Relax dude, I gave you a month. You better not make me lose and start getting your gears in your head straightened out."

Stan scoffs and begins walking towards the cafeteria, "Thought you were better than that, Kenny."

"I tried," Kenny shrugs, "Until I realised you don't even want to."

That marked the end of their conversation as Stan grabbed a tray, piling whatever onto it. It's not that it was a lack of trying, or maybe it was. But deeply rooted inside his heart was what felt like vines, tightly coiling itself around the bottle that contained his innermost feelings, heavily guarding it like a lifeline because-… because he was afraid to lose Kyle again.

Stan could feel the vines tighten around his heart, pretending to disregard the feelings that are continuously blooming inside. He mindlessly makes his way to the table where Kyle was already working on his half eaten sandwich, trailing Kenny from behind.

"Hey," Stan mumbles as he takes his seat next to Kyle and Kenny across from the both of them.

Kyle looks up, grinning, "Took you long enough, did Kenny corner you about something again?"

"No," Stan lies as he stabs his mash potatoes with a knife.

"Liar," Kenny says immediately, a smirk decorating his face, "We were talking about his undying love for-" Stan throws a spoon at Kenny's direction and then immediately goes back to eating as food as if nothing happened.

Kyle looks at Stan and traces the trajectory of the spoon, giving Kenny a blank look, "What?"

"Nothing," Stan cuts in, glaring daggers through Kenny's soul. The latter, however, wasn't intimidated in the slightest, giving Stan a wide smile.

"GUYS! GUYS GUYS GUYS!"

The trio's head snaps up to the heavy-set figure running up to them and slamming a poster down on the table.

"What do you want, fatass?" Kyle snaps as soon as Cartman opens his mouth to speak.

"Shut up, jew! I have some very important and exciting news!"

"Save it for someone who cares," Stan scoops his mash potatoes onto his knife and eats it, much to Kyle's concern at the choice of utensil.

"Dude, why- "Shut up, Kahl!! Here in my hand is the golden ticket to changing our lives for good!" Cartman holds up the flyer again and waves it around.

Kyle sighs dramatically, and takes a disinterested bite out of his sandwich, "And the golden ticket is what, exactly?"

"Oh, just the biggest event of the last semester, that's all. The South Park High Annual Fair!" 

The other three boys look up from their food, unimpressed.

Kyle raises a brow, "... and?"

Cartman rolls his eyes and shoves the poster onto the center of the table, "The skewl fair, jewboy," Cartman points to the bold letters on the poster, "This year, their hosting a student film contest, and guess whos entering to reclaim the art of cinema from assholes like James Cameron." Cartman points his thumb towards himself, and once again, to the less than impressed audience that were his three non-friends.

"That's stupid."

"And maybe you need a good fuck in the ass!" Cartman shoves Stan's shoulder towards Kyle, "Go on, emoboy. Give the jew what he wants."

"Lay off, Cartman," Stan snaps back.

As much as Stan can feel his ears heat up at Cartman's suggestion, and the food he just swallowed traveling backwards up his throat, he holds it back in. 

At least he managed to master that. Although it’s kind of a weird thing for someone to become an aficionado in.

"You guys haven't even heard the best part yet!" Cartman aggressively taps on the bottom of the page, "We will get a monetary prize if the our video is chosen and showcased in the Colorado State fair! All we have to do is recreate a scene from a movie and show them our directing, camera, and lighting skills!"

Kyle once again, gives Cartman an unimpressed look, "Cause a jock, a sex addict, and as you so kindly refer to me as your mortal enemy, have those skill sets."

"Sex addict?!" Kenny exclaims, dramatic offense gracing his features.

"Glad you're self aware, Ken~."

”That’s dumb, Cartman. We all know you’re in this just for the money,” Stan scoffs as he struggles to keep his own emotions in check, more preoccupied by his previous conversation with Kenny rather that Cartman.

”Duh, who wouldn’t want $500? So, I signed all four of us up for the competition.”

Now that turned every head at the table.

Kyle sputters on the water he was sipping on while the other two now look at Cartman with both mortification and curiosity, “What?!”

“Yeah! I’m the director, obviously. Kienny is the camera operator, and you two,” Cartman smirks as he points to Stan and Kyle, “… are our actors.”

Stan keeps up his act of indifference, but Kyle was quick to retaliate, slamming his hands on the table, “What?!” Kyle yells and catches the attention of most of the cafeteria, “Are you insane?! I’m not doing this shit!”

”Don’t you want a little extra money, jew?”

Now that caught Stan’s attention a little, "The money does seem like a good gig, especially if it's just a small student film their expecting," $500 split across the four of them will be a good extra bit to spend during the holidays. Maybe he and Kyle could go do something together. They could take a trip to the theme park, or a quick road trip down to California or Denver. Maybe have dinner at Casa Bonita.

Wait what?

While Stan was lost in lalaland, Kyle and Cartman continued going at each other’s throats, “Don't encourage him, Stan! Why- just... why on earth couldn’t we get other people to act anyway?! Why can’t Stan and I do the camerawork and directing instead?!”

”Because, jew, we are recreating the Romeo and Juliet scene from the 1996 film by Baz Luhrmann, and we need a couple to play our lovely protagonists!”

There was a beat of silence as everyone’s gears in their head slowly began to turn.

Stan turns green as he twists his body to release his lunch all over on the floor while Kyle begins screaming and turning red, “WE ARE NOT A DAMN COUPLE!”

”You guys were feeding each other your lunches yesterday. The hippie looked like he was gonna faint, though.”

Kyle and Kenny are immediately by Stan’s side, Kyle rubbing Stan’s back while Kenny goes to find a janitor, “We’re not fucking doing it, fatass! Either change your damn genre or find someone else to play in your dumb film!”

”It’s my film! I signed us up, I’m the director! So you listen to me!”

”We didn’t sign up for this shit!”

Meanwhile, Stan was trying to catch his breath, using a tissue Kyle handed to him to clean his mouth. The room was spinning around him and his vision went hazy just at the thought of acting out Romeo and Juliet with his…

Fuck.

”You said you don’t have the skill set, and acting isn’t being judged. I’d take the win, Kahl!”

Stan's hand trembles as he clutches the edge of the table. The cafeteria felt too loud with Kyle's loud voice arguing back at Cartman, chatters from distant tables gossiping about their group, all of it was crashing like static in his skull.

Kyle scoots closer, his gentle fingers carefully tucking some of Stan's hair back, his voice concerned, "Stan? Hey, breath- breath! You're ok."

Stan nods mechanically, the warmth of Kyle's hand on his shoulder only makes his stomach twist harder and- oh shit there he goes again, right onto the floor.

"Jesus Christ," Kenny mutters as he returns with a less than pleased janitor who seemed to have recognized the group at this point, "I leave for one second and you're dying again!"

The janitor begins mopping up the mess, muttering to himself how Stan should ‘just grow some balls and confess’. You know it's worryingly obvious when even the janitor knows shit about you.

”I’m- fine,” Stan groans and takes in deep breaths while Kyle’s hand starts to gently rub his arm to soothe him, although all it does is just encourage the next vomiting episode but Stan didn’t want to see Kyle look more upset, “Just- why… why the hell do you fucking think that’s a good idea, Cartman?!”

”Because you both are gayasses for each other.”

”We are not- “Not what, Kiel?! Cuz the air begins to smell like the pheromones you release whenever you see Stan walk in the room.”

”Pheromones- what?! I'm not a fucking animal?!”

"You know, Stan is your- "SHUT UP, JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Stan wipes his mouth and finally somewhat regains his composure. Somewhat, "Cartman, back the fuck off. Kyle and I aren't doing it."

Cartman sneers at Stan, "This form with both your signatures says otherwise," the fatass pulls a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket, and on the bottom in clear black ink was a perfect forgery of both Stan and Kyle's names.

"You forged our fucking signatures?!"

"No, you both signed it," Cartman smirks as he quickly tucks the paper safely away into his pocket, "And now both of you get to act out your romantic and sexual fantasies."

Kyle looked like he could break the table in half with how hard he was gripping the edge of it, "Funny coming from a guy whose only romantic fantasy is a threesome with a cheeseburger and his reflection! Maybe this is your way of getting some ‘normal’ action you fucking pervert!"

The cafeteria collectively goes 'ooooh' as Cartman is momentarily at a lost for words, "You know what, jew?! You're Juliet now!"

Kyle rises from his seat and attempts to lunge forward at Cartman but is quickly restrained by Kenny,"WHAT?!"

"Yup," Cartman says smugly, already scribbling away on a clipboard that nobody saw him pull out, "Jewliet: Kahl Broflovski, and Romeo: Stan 'Pathetic Vomiting Machine' Marsh."

Stan's face goes white and the janitor rolls his eyes, leaning against a nearby wall as he expectantly waits for another Cartman/Kyle induced stomach emptying session. Meanwhile, Kyle was struggling to calm himself down as he throws his half eaten sandwich at Cartman, "Jewliet?! Oh, you're so fucking mature now, aren't you?"

"Ay!" Cartman exclaims as mustard from the sandwich smears on Cartman's coat. He grabs the sandwich to throw it back but Stan is quick to intercept it from hitting Kyle. He looked worse for wear, but he still manages to tilt his head up and lock piercing eyes with the attacker, "Cut it out, Cartman!"

Stan's heart was beating a hundred miles per second. He can hear Cartman's taunts and teasing before it even leaves his mouth, but given how much Cartman had been getting on his nerves for the teasing in general and the targeted attacks on Kyle left a sour taste in his mouth and he couldn't help but intervene regardless.

“Protecting your Jewliet, huh, Romeo? That's awfully romantic of you~. Kienny, grab your camera and start recording while you two build on that romance for the unbridled sexual-”

Kyle lets out his a frustrated scream as he continues to thrash in Kenny's grasp, "Dude-, I think you need to- cut it out-" Kenny says between breaths, struggling way too hard to hold Kyle back. The angry ginger grabs Stan's tray of food and throws it right at Cartman. Luckily for him, it misses.

Unfortunately...

"WHAT THE HELL, KYLE?!" Clyde turns around to see Cartman laughing and Kyle's face drop with a mixture of surprise and immediate regret.

"Not- n-not co-ol, man!" Jimmy tries to wipe the splattered mash potatoes all over their table and everyone at the table.

"That's it!" Clyde grabs his pudding and launches it back at the four boy's table, hitting Kenny straight in the face.

The cafeteria goes silent as everyone freezes to look at Kenny. The orange parka boy was too stunned for just a second to even more, blinking once, then twice, then being interrupted by Cartman's roaring laughter.

"HAHA! FOR SOMEONE THAT PLAYS FOOTBALL, YOU SUCK AT THROWING, CLYDE!"

Clyde's face goes red as he gets ready to initiate a full on food fight when Kyle's yelling interrupts him, "And you need to be euthanized you perverted, disgusting, bigoted, fat fucking whale!"

"Hey!" Cartman yells, "Don't get mad at me because you finally landed a role that suits your soft, delicate femininity. Although, right now you're giving 'women on their periods'."

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!" Kyle's entire body was shaking to give Cartman the beating of his life and tries lunging forward again when Stan stops him and glares at Cartman.

"I'm getting sick of this back and forth," Stan brings a head to his forehead, feeling like the arguing itself will land him another concussion, "Tell you what, Cartman. You owe us both 30% each of the prize money if we agree and if we both are uncomfortable with anything, we're out."

Cartman snorts and crosses his arms, "That's gay."

"And we get the roles and add people if need be."

"Ay! I'm the director! I choose who I see fit for each role."

"You're just giving Kyle the role of Juliet because you enjoy torturing him the most," Stan turns to look at Kyle, "If Kyle agrees, then we'll do it. Just end my fucking headache right now before I end you, Cartman."

Kyle huffs, his cheeks turning slightly red but Stan couldn't tell if it was because of the movie their reenacting or because it's Stan. God he wishes it was because it was because of him- aw fuck, he might fucking vomit again.

"Fuck- fine. But no uploading it anywhere else. If we lose and don't get the money, you still owe the three of us the 30% of the prize money since you signed all of us up without our consent."

Kenny raises a brow as he finishes cleaning himself of pudding, "Wait- you're giving in, just like that?"

The two turn red and avoid each other's gaze; Stan mumbling an excuse, "It's just to put an end to this."

Kyle seems to hesitate. He was the one that put up more of a fight, and that worried Stan that Kyle was probably still walking on eggshells around their friendship. But there's something that slowly burns away at the weeds holding his heart in a vice grip, hoping that Kyle's embarrassment meant more.

Cartman hums, his eyes darting between the pair with a smirk forming on his face, "Since I'm feeling generous, I agree to your terms."

"No backing out, asshole. We have half the school as our witness," Kyle snapped.

"Alright, alright," Cartman puts his hands up with a smug look, "I'll text you all again on the details."

The school bell rings as if on cue and everyone begins to make their way out of the cafeteria. Kyle finally allows his body to relax and collapses back onto the bench of the table, Kenny giving the two a look.

"Really? It was that easy for you two to give in?"

A wide grin was plastered on Kenny's face, and Stan was not willing to hear another one of their friends attempts at getting the two together, "Kenny."

"I didn't say anything, Stanley."

Kyle glares, "We didn't 'give in'. We're just shutting him up now before one of us beats him up and gets us expelled."

Kenny laughs and shrugs, "Hey, at least you guys have a chance to properly discuss who is what. However, I do fear Cartman might be planning on putting Kyle in that angel costume already."

"I'll kill him if he tries!"

Stan however...

Yeah... he's barely holding on by a thread. The poor boy had an image of Kyle in the same costume worn by Claire Danes in his head, and his throat began to burn immediately. Stan took one glance at the poor janitor, and tries to hold it back in out of pity and for his dignity.

Watching the kids slowly walk out with Stan trailing behind clutching his stomach and holding a hand to his mouth, the janitor shakes his head as he mops up the remnants of the sandwich and mash potatoes on the floor, "Fucking kids."

The sharp whistle of the coach's blow cuts through the air as Stan makes another easy touchdown. Stan's speed and focus had improved drastically since his minor injury. Despite the permanent frown he wore, the old man seemed more than pleased as the team gathers around him by the benches.

"Good work, Marsh. That's the best I've seen you... ever."

Tolkien nudges Stan's arm, "That's because he has a personal cheerleader now~."

"I will end it all right here, right now. I swear on god," Stan mutters threateningly but holding no intent.

Eyes of the football players glance to the shaded bleachers where Kyle was sitting, headphones pressed against his ears and his back hunched over with his legs crossed on the metal bench with his textbook sitting on his lap. The middle row near the center had become his regular spot now, and it's incredibly noticeable whenever Stan would look over with a dopey smile. Throughout the week with Kyle slowly becoming a familiar presence to the team, Stan's playing had improved tenfold. Stan especially loved liked the fact that Kyle would use a very familiar jacket that Stan refuses to take back, to bundle up.

It's so fucking obvious, it really is driving everyone crazy.

"The concussion gave you some weird superpower, dude," A teammate speaks up, earning an affirmative hum from the rest of the guys.

It's like a 200º fever at this point. Stan desperately wants to ram is head into the post or allow Clyde to take him out of his misery and tackle him so hard, his head splits open.

"It's not like I got bit by a radioactive spider and am now Spiderman."

The guys snicker as their coach jots something down on his clipboard before barking, "Alright, take a break, boys. Be back in fifteen."

The team breaks apart, some of them sitting on the turf and lounging while the others collapse onto a nearby bench to cool down. Stan marches over to his water-bottle sitting right in front of the bleachers where Kyle was located and pulls off his helmet to take a sip.

"Radioactive spider, huh," Tolkien grins as he sits on the bench in front of Stan and leans against elevation of the bleachers, "Yeah, sure. Except your spider's got curly red hair and a cute ass."

Stan felt like he was just going to die. He immediate knocks his head against the wall Tolkien was leaning on before being pulled back almost immediately by a strong hand, "Dude, no. Not again."

Stan grumbles and turns to look at Clyde, "Then maybe you guys should stop giving me a reason to reenact my head trauma."

"That sounds like a you problem," A voice Stan definitely recognizes but shouldn't have been there, speaks. Stan turns to sit on the bench, looking up with a displeased expression at Kenny, who wore a wide grin on his face.

"Joining the 'Stan Orgy', Kenny?" Clyde cackles and high fives Tolkien as if that was the funniest joke in the world.

"Shut it, Jimmy wannabe. Just here to make sure our Stanley is alright," Kenny sits next to Stan with his hands buried in the pockets of his parka.

"I'm fine. I've accepted my fate already," Stan's words come out a little more harsh than he intended.

Kenny leans his head back, looking up at the clouds with a hum, "Dude, you could have gone to the teachers and told them Cartman forged your signature or something. Unless you're broke and that desperate for $150 at the detriment to your sanity, I only can see one reason why you both gave in so easily."

Stan can feel the knowing smirk on Kenny's face. Without even turning his head, Stan scoffs back at Kenny, "Whatever helps you sleep at night. I'm getting sick of Cartman's shit, and a $150 is still $150."

"What did you say about me, hippie?" Cartman appears seemingly out of nowhere, he probably followed Kenny to find their star actors.

"Shut the hell up," Stan grabs his helmet, not wanting to breath the same air as Cartman for a second longer, and ends his break early by walking away from the group back to the middle of the turf.

Cartman takes Stan's place on the bench, the metal below shaking at the bigger weight, "Dude, did you have to go and piss them both off again?" Kenny finally asks Cartman as the two watch Tolkien and Clyde join up with Stan.

Cartman shrugs, "Your little study group session barely worked."

Kenny lets out a huff, "The goal was to have them become friends again. Their pining is up to them."

"You're the one trying to convince Stan to confess, you broke ass bitch!"

"I'm encouraging him, not trying to set them up via some dumb film competition reenacting modern-Shakespeare!"

The sound of a whistle momentarily brings the two boys out of their conversation as the football team begins another round of practice, Stan running faster than the two were used to when they would watch him before.

"Hey, they agreed," Cartman pulls out a sweet tart from his pocket and begins eating, "Their both probably eager for an excuse to make out."

Out on the field, Stan was busy running and very quickly tackling another teammate after having fumbled and lost the ball, "Easy there, Marsh!" Their coach yells out. While he is impressed with the sudden motivation and improvement, it is concerning how tense Stan looked.

Kenny keeps watching the game, eyes mainly on Stan and the distressed look on his face. His voice drops a little, "You ever think maybe you're pushing it too far this time?"

Cartman blinks, "With what, the movie?"

"No, with them," Kenny says, nodding his head towards the field where Stan's pacing like he's trying to outrun his own brain, "They finally started talking after seven years, dude. You sure your fat little heart can handle ruining that for a laugh?"

For a moment, just a moment, Cartman pauses, looking almost thoughtful, "I'm pushing what might take ten years for them. If anything, they should be thanking me once they finally find each others dicks and one of them shoves it in the other to make a baby."

"You can't rush love, Cartman," Kenny exhales sharply.

"Blah blah blah, screw the mushy ass stuff, Kienny! If their friendship is that fragile, a little romance won't break it. It'll just make things spicier."

Kenny stares at him, unimpressed, "You're unbelievable, man. You talk about people's lives like its some crappy reality show."

Cartman smirks, licking sugar dust off of his fingers, "Yeah, and it's about to be renewed with another season starring our 'Tragic Hero', Stan Marsh and 'Damsel in Denial', Kahl Broflovski."

"Dude, you're sick."

"Correction— I'm a visionary."

Kenny groans, rubbing his forehead, "You're gonna get punched again."

"Whatever," Cartman shrugs as he watches Stan make a touchdown, "Hey Romeo!" He yells as Stan's head immediately snaps to Cartman knowingly and glares. Everyone else snickers that Stan was that reactive to the character he's unwillingly going to play, "Finally made a touchdown to impress Jewliet, huh. Playing better because your man is watching- AY!"

Cartman picks up a pencil that had hit the back of his head and turns around to look up at the bleachers to look at his attacker. Kyle had pulled down his headphones around his neck and the middle finger was already up in the air, "You fucking jew! And you're wondering why I'm making you Juliet? You fit the womanly role perfectly since you throw a tantrum like one!"

"Shut the fuck up, fatass," Kyle snaps and pulls his headphones back on.

Kenny side-eyes Cartman, "You say stuff like that and wonder why people don't like hanging out with you."

"You hang out with me."

"Yeah, because God cursed me with bad decision-making skills. I should have stopped you the moment you said you wanted them to play the protagonists in your stupid movie."

Cartman snickers, "And why didn't you?"

Kenny sighs, cursing himself mentally for thinking the way he was. It was dumb, hell it could probably ruin their friendship. But given how close the two are to locking lips yet so far, it was frustrating to watch that he found himself giving some thought into Cartman's dumb plan, "Because...," Kenny sighs and Cartman smirks at his friend's resignation, knowing exactly what he's thinking.

"Exactly. I'm accelerating destiny here, blondie!"

"Accelerating destiny? Dude, we're not trying to aim for a tragic end like the actual Romeo and Juliet tale. What if their friendship is ruined over this?"

Cartman pops another sweet tart into his mouth, "Then it'll be accurate. Boom, authenticity!"

Kenny gives Cartman a deadpan stare, "Authenticity doesn't usually involve emotional damage and felony level harrassment."

"Details," Cartman waves Kenny off, "What matters is that I win the bet and get the two together."

Kenny raises a brow, "You betted on the entire semester. So much for 'speeding up' the process."

"Oh contraire, dear Kienny," Cartman raises a finger, "Just because I'm accelerating destiny doesn't mean I'm going to rush the process of love making."

Kenny was about to respond that he technically was when a sharp thunk echoes from the field, the football landing directly at Cartman's feet. The two slowly glance up from the football to see Stan standing a few yards away, glaring with murder in his eyes.

"Next one hits your face!"

"See?" Cartman tosses the football back at Stan and spreads his arms out, "Passion! That's why you're Romeo!"

Stan catches the ball and moves to throw it again when a whistle interrupts him, "Marsh! Back on the field!"

Kenny groans, slapping a hand to his face, "You're literally asking to be punched."

Cartman grins, "No, I'm a director with a vision," He dramatically points to Stan who was already storming back onto the field to try and cool off, "And that, Kienny, is my star actor."

The sun began to dip below the horizon as practice begins to wrap up. Kenny and Cartman had left a while ago, and by the time, most of the team filed out of the locker room, laughing and yelling dinner plans, or arguing over who fucked up during practice. Stan however, lingered in the back, towel wrapped around his neck as he stares at the team's new varsity jacket to match the green for the Cows, fiddling with the fabric between his fingers.

This color definitely suited Kyle better.

What the hell was he thinking?! His stomach still hadn't settled down since the whole fiasco in the cafeteria. There were bigger things he had to settle, especially with Cartman, yet that's what he's thinking of?! Yet his brain decided to picture Kyle in it anyway, the new, thicker fabric would definitely provide more warmth. Kyle would probably wrap it around himself, the sleeves wrinkling from having to pull it back just so that he could use his hands to flip a page of his book. Hell, the color matches Kyle's eyes so well he might fucking barf so that he could match with him too.

He really needs help.

When he finally stepped outside, the air had cooled. Kyle was still sitting on the bleachers, staring with this far off look on his face as the golden hues of the sun casts its glow on the bleachers. It takes every ounce of strength for Stan to not regurgitate his organs as he hesitantly walks up the steps and sits next to Kyle.

Kyle turns to look at Stan and sits up right, "New jacket?"

Stan nods, "Yeah,” Stan points to the red jacket wrapped around Kyle, “That one was the jacket before the High school and Elementary slash Middle schools were merged."

Kyle nods and smiles softly, "It's nice."

Stan hums in response as they sit there, the silence stretching. Stan could feel every heartbeat in his throat, and he wonders if Kyle could hear it too.

Kyle finally speaks, voice softer, "You're still cool with the- you know. The whole movie thing?"

Stan nods, even though Kyle isn't looking at him, "Yeah, I was just sick of him giving you crap," Stan shrugs, "I can tell him that you wanna back out if you- "No, it's-... fine. The money seems reasonable enough for an amaeteur reenactment."

Stan lets out a breath that might have been a laugh, but his heart seemed to be yelling for so much more, "Yeah, that's fair."

Kyle glances at him the, a quick flick of green eyes that knocks the air right out of Stan, "It's just- you looked like you were gonna pass out earlier."

Stan swallows, "Still kinda do," He forces a chuckle, "But I guess it's not the worse thing in the world. Doing it with you, I mean," Stan's shoulders tenses as his hands find each other and fidget around nervously.

The words hang there and Stan immediately regrets how that sounded after waiting just a second too long. It was too honest, too raw, and he knew deep down it was yearning for so much more than just wanting his acting partner to be someone he's comfortable with. However, Kyle just smiles faintly, his gaze falling back on the horizon.

"Dude, you're making it sound like we're gonna elope," Kyle murmurs with a half-laugh.

Stan laughs nervously, "Well, it's Cartman's production so, who knows."

Kyle snorts, the sound bubbling into a small, genuine laugh. The kind that made Stan lose his focus and his head go all fuzzy every time he heard it. 

They sit in silence once more, and Stan dared not move- hell even breath. He just wants to freeze in this moment, the soft light illuminates each one of Kyle's features once more. How the chaos from earlier transitioned to his own that he brings upon himself just because of Kyle fucking Broflovski.

He should say something, anything, but the words tangle around each other and form a knot in his throat. All he could think about in the moment was simply sitting next to Kyle, and how much he missed this. How, if he's honest, that the whole 'Romeo and Juliet' thing doesn't scare him. Not compared to how much he desperately wants to cling to Kyle's side for the rest of his life.

Kyle's voice pulls him out of his thoughts, "Do you think Cartman's gonna force us to... kiss?"

Stan feels a chill run up his spine at the thought. He dared not look up, his gaze fixed on his hands. If he even catches a glimpse of those soft, pink lips, his brain will start running with it and he does not want to throw up.

The raven haired boy shrugs, "He'll probably try, like he always does. But we'll survive this, right? Like always?"

The two finally tilt their heads up and lock ocean blue eyes with the shimmering emerald green that could only belong to his Super Best Friend, "Yeah. Like always."

The world felt smaller with just the two of them sitting up in those bleachers under the fading light. Even as the two were tap dancing on the line between friendship and something more that neither of the two were willing to touch, they didn't run away either. Not from the stupid movie project, and not from each other. Not when they're so close.

Stan's eyes trace Kyle's freckles, the constellations of the beauty marks were beckoning at him to lean closer and cup Kyle's cheek. The light illuminated each red curl that stuck out under Kyle's hat, and Stan's hands were itching to give in, rip off the hat, and give into his inner desires.

Despite every logical thought that were screaming at him to stop, his chest fills with that familiar, wonderful warmth again.

Stan may not want to fully acknowledge or even try to understand if it's love, or guilt, or something that's been waiting seven years to resurface. But for once, it doesn't feel wrong or confusing.

It just feels like coming home.

Chapter Text

Class had barely ended before Cartman pounced on the opportunity to claim the school's small soundstage as his rehearsal ground for the afternoon. Crammed full of old props and busted backdrops was perfect to eventually film their 'Cinematic Reenactment'.

The other guys were reluctantly dragged- well except Kenny. While he isn't still fully onboard with the idea, he'll do whatever it takes, right?

It shouldn’t be too much of a problem since the two won’t stop fucking flirting anyway.

"This is so dumb," Kyle grumbles as he walks alongside Stan to a corner of the room to toss their bags to.

Stan looks at Kyle with a pitiful smile, "Hey, you said it's for the money, and you said you're fine with being Juliet," Stan then smirks and leans closer, "Is there something you wanna tell me- ack!"

Kyle's face immediately heats up and he gazes off to the side as he pushes Stan's face away, "Shut it, dude. And being Juliet doesn't mean anything just because I'm playing a female role."

Stan rubs his cheek with a small laugh. God why did that make him blush so much?! It's just Kyle- being Kyle, snappy, defensive, and incredibly easy to rile up. Still, watching the faint pink rise on Kyle's face was unfairly distracting.

"Sure, sure," Stan mumbles as they wait around for Cartman to finish decorating the set with whatever he could find, "If you wanna be carried around like a Princess, you should have just said so."

Kyle rolls his eyes with a smile tugging at his lips, "Are you finally paying me back for giving me a hard time when you were 'heavily drugged' by the hospital?"

"Do you want me to~?" Stan snickers as the two look at each other, both of them leaning in as they taunt the other completely forgetting Kenny sitting nearby on one of the chairs and watching the whole thing silently with a mixture of both frustration and curiosity.

Kyle opens his mouth back to retort but is cut off by Cartman running from the back of a backdrop like a possessed man, his voice echoing through through the room, "Alright, lovebirds! Save the flirting and kissing for when the camera's are rolling! Time is money and we won't be able to do anything after tomorrow because of the hippie's gay kickoffs."

Kyle grits his teeth, and if eyes could change color, they'd be black with murder, "I'm gonna bash your teeth in, you fat fuck!"

Kenny finally gets up from his seat, barely suppressing a snort, "He's right, though. The faster we get this over with, the faster I get to see Stan choke on his own spit while trying not to stare at Kyle's lips."

Stan sputters and glares at Kenny, "KENNY!"

Cartman hands the two a couple of stapled pages each, specific lines highlighted in different colors for each set, handed to them, "Here are your scripts! We'll start with blocking camera movements and actors while you guys are practicing lines."

"No shot-list for me?" Kenny frowns.

"What's a shot-list?" Cartman stares at the parka-clad boy blankly who pinches the bridge of his nose in despair.

"Never mind, which scene are we doing so that I can see the shots," Kenny steals Stan's phone to look on youtube and gives a knowing smirk when he sees Stan's wallpaper.

Cartman walks over to his seat with a bigger bag sitting next to it. After rummaging through a little, he pulls out Stan's old green cape from his Marshwalker look, cheap chainmail and pauldron, and a pair of white angel wings that were already falling apart, "Look up the elevator scene."

The two who were staring at their scripts look up and slowly turn to Cartman with a look of horror painting their face as they eye the costumes. 

"THE ONE WHERE THEY FUCKING MAKE OUT?!" Kyle screams bloody murder and immediately starts throwing punches in the air as he's held back by Stan hooking his arms under the other.

"They're always making out, jew. We'll cut out the kissing parts, as per your requests. You know, unless you two wanna win that $500 priz- ACK- "Shut your FUCKING MOUTH, CARTMAN!" Kyle throws his shoe and it lands a direct hit on Cartman's head,

Kenny steps in between Kyle and Cartman in case they try to start another all out war while keeping his eyes glued onto Stan's phone, "Wow, they're intense in this one. I don't think it'll hit the same without the kissing."

"No kissing or else we're both out," Stan finally loosens his grip on Kyle, but he doesn't pull away yet in case Kyle tries to kill Cartman again (Lies, he just wants to hold him).

”I don’t have to make you two kiss. You’ll just do it yourself, fuckin’ gaywads.”

Kyle grunts but he’s unable to fight back. Kenny finally looks up, flashing a cheeky grin at the two. He then looks over at Cartman and the now scattered costumes on the floor after Kyle hit him, "Dude, isn't that Stan's old cape?"

Their director blinks and finally regains his senses, glaring at Kyle and mutters another insult about jews, "Yeah. This was all I could find in his closet though," Cartman points to the cape on the floor, "-apart from his gayass."

"You went through my closet?!" Stan yells, "When the fuck did you- you know what? Forget it," Stan snatches his costume from the ground, reminiscing slightly from when he last wore his silly Ranger outfit.

"Hold on- why the hell is mine movie accurate?! Why can't I dress up as the High Jew Elf?"

Cartman forces the pair of wings into Kyle's hands, "Because I couldn't find your robe in your house and this is funnier, now put it on!"

Stan snorts, immediately coughing right after as Kyle's head snaps to look at him, "You think this is funny, Stan?!"

"I- no! I just-" Stan's voice cracks, which doesn't help is case at all, "It's just- uh... the wings."

"Yeah, hilarious," Kyle mutters and discards his (Stan's) jacket somewhere on the floor and begins fussing with the straps over his white shirt, not even bothering with the shoe discarded on the ground as he makes his way over to the ballroom setup. Stan hesitantly takes off his beanie, puts the chainmail on, and follows after his friend.

"Lose the hat, jew!" Cartman yells and receives a slew of grouchy muttered replies as a green ushanka hits their director in the face.

Stan's heart does that stupid thing again; kicking like a baby in their mother's belly as it tries to punch a hole through his chest. Stan was stuck mid way putting the second pauldron on his shoulders over the chainmail when he freezes as Kyle finishes pulling the wings over his shirt. He shouldn't be staring, god forbid he vomits on the sets nearby and has Cartman screaming up his ass. But the way the backlight hidden by the prop tables and chairs casts its gaze on Kyle and the small particles of dust around them makes a halo around his already angelic frame.

Kyle was muttering to himself again, cheeks still pink from embarrassment and humiliation— but God, it's unfair how pretty he is.

Stan's brain was screaming at him to stop: Get a grip! It's Kyle. Your best friend who also just happens to be really pretty and handsome and funny and sweet and smart and kind and feisty and- fuck fuck fuck fuck fUCK

Kyle adjusts the wings behind him with a frustrated sigh, "Do I really have to wear these stupid wings? I'm sure I can find some dumb robe somewhere instead."

"Of course you do," Cartman says as if it was obvious and begins setting up more lights willy nilly, leaving Kenny to fix it, "Juliet's got angel wings, Romeo's got armour. It's symbolism, jewboy. You two meet like heaven and earth, tragedy, kissing , yada yada yada."

Kenny begins setting up the DSLR camera on its tripod, glancing at Stan with a lazy grin, "He's got a point. Stan looks like he's about to pray too."

Stan is brought back to reality and straightens his back, his face heating up, "I'm not- what-"

Kyle blushes furiously as the two make eye contact, chuckling a little as we watches Stan fumble over his words and drop the pauldron in his hand and fusses as he scrambles to pick it up again.

Only for him to drop it again when the soundstage doors slam open and a sizeable group of familiar people waltz in. 'Romeo and Juliet' tense up as they spot all their friends in wacky, and more fitting costumes, approach their tiny ballroom set.

"What- what are you all doing here?" Stan locks eyes with Wendy specifically, who was wearing the biggest cheekiest grin he had seen on her face. He tries to fix his costume again, finally putting on the surprisingly long green cape. 

Wendy twirls a cheap tiara in her fingers as she comes to a stop in the middle of the set, her grin only widening, "Cartman said you guys needed extras for his little film for the School Fair," She says sweetly, making Stan's stomach instantly drop.

No way- there's just no fucking way. As if it wasn't mortifying enough to act as the love interest with the person he's been vomiting over, all their friends have come to join in on the fun as well. Craig dressed in a white jumpsuit with the NASA logo taped onto the front, most of the other guys were all dressed as their superhero personas from Coon & Friends/Freedom Pals depending on who you ask (We're not opening that jar of worms again), Clyde was dressed as a jock aka himself, while Bebe and Wendy both were wearing flamboyant, medieval-style ball gowns.

Cartman, the traitor, doesn't bother to look up from his clipboard as he drags a director's chair that could barely hold his weight next to Kenny and takes a seat, "Yyyup. Every love story needs a crowd watching the main couple make goo-goo eyes at each other. Plus, it's free labor."

"Like we don't do that already," Kenny mumbles.

"Free labor my ass," Bebe pipes up, putting on a glittery mask that looks like it was pulled from the dumpster behind Party City, "You promised we'd get front row seats to watch Stan crash-and-burn!"

Stan swallows hard, trying to drown out their teasing as he attempts to avoid anyone's gaze. He feels like his brain is short-circuiting as their friends crowd into the scene, feeling a pair of hands maneuver him behind the cardboard marble pillar that was wobbling under its own weight. 

"Alright, places everyone! Kienny, is your stupid camera ready?!"

Stan could barely make out everyone fumbling around as Cartman directs Kyle to stand right in front of Stan and next to Craig. Just the view of Kyle's back with the wings on and the light casting its halo around him might be enough to make him faint right there and then. He tries to focus on the mainly muffled conversations about how he probably looks constipated, Clyde mumbling something about bets, and he feels his chest tightens.

This is so, so much worse than a game day crowd.

"Hold on! Why the hell are we going all out when Stan and I haven't even memorized our lines?!" Kyle exclaims, shaking the script in his hand.

"Just read the damn script, jew! Just get in the zone! Besides, you're actually the least dressed up one here!"

"Get in the zone?! This isn't fucking porn, fatass!"

Cartman raises his hand and waves it at Kyle for him to shut up, "SHHH! Get in the zone, Kahl! We're gonna start!"

The room immediately goes quiet. So quiet that Stan could hear the blood rushing through him and his heart rapidly beating. The scene wasn't exactly the best for a recreation of the movie, and the directions in general from Cartman were incredibly vague. Stan knew what happened in the scene all too well, and he knew Kyle did too. They've both watched it before when they were kids, and he definitely didn't imagine Kyle and him as the characters from the movie. So seeing Kyle now with the dust settling around him and the softness of the light against his hair, it's the kind of sight that still manages to render Stan speechless and forget his own name.

Cartman's voice eventually breaks Stan's trance, "And- ACTION!"

Kenny begins playing some dumb romantic music from Stan's spotify and skips near to the end, letting it fade out as all their friends pretend to cheer for some invisible performer. Stan's body moves on its own from around the pillar, his eyes trained on Kyle's hand. There was no need to pretend like he was nervous, because fucking hell- he definitely was.

Reaching forward, he grabs Kyle's hand and gently pulls him back until his wings hit the flimsy pillar. Just the touch itself was electric, and his hands were trembling in Kyle's as he looks at the script in his hand.

"If I profane-" Stan's voice comes out shaking, "-with my unworthiest hand. This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this."

He could feel eyes on him, and even if Kyle wasn't looking at him yet, he dared not look up from his script as he turns his body towards his co-star, "My- My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand. To smooth that rough touch with a tender-"

Stan feels his body tense as his script prompts him to lean down and kiss 'Juliet's' hand. But he made the fatal mistake of looking up and locking eyes with Kyle's blushing face, "Uh-," Stan's body was stuck in place, the last word dangling at the tip of his tongue and his mind immediately goes blank, "Uh- h-hi?"

"CUT- Cut! What the hell was that?!" Cartman throws his clipboard in the air like a director watching his magnum opus implode in real time, "You were doing so good for a first take, hippie! And then you sounded like an awkward virgin struggling to find the sweet spot!"

Stan immediately lets go of Kyle's hand and rubs the nape of his neck, "Uhm... improv?"

Everyone except Cartman, Stan, and Kyle erupt in laughter, Kenny wiping a tear from his eye. Cartman, however, was too absorbed in his role as director and points at Stan, "You got one job, Romeo! Grab his hand, and say your gayass sappy shit! That shouldn't be hard for you!"

"There's a lot of people here- "Excuses, excuses!" Cartman interrupts Stan's defense, "Let's take it from the top! And this time, when we get to the hand part! Mean it! Power all that vomiting urges into your passion! I want romance! I want sex! I want- "-to throw myself off a bridge," Kyle cuts Cartman off, earning a snicker from behind the camera.

Stan, however, is barely able to register any of it. He's still locked on Kyle and the light pink on his cheeks and the faint twitch of his smile seeing Cartman fall off his chair while trying to grab his clipboard. The way Kyle looks amused and radiant at the same time could send Stan back into the ER. Every word Cartman says fades, busy in his own world as he tries not to die from cardiac arrest.

"STAN! BACK TO YOUR MARK," Cartman barks at him.

Stan immediately straightens his back again like a soldier at attention. He can do this, right? It's just a scene, a stupid amaeteur production of 'Romeo and Juliet' for some competition-

Then Kyle adjusts his wings again, the feathers fluttering in the light, and Stan's brain malfunctions again.

Yeah, no, he's dead.

"You ok, dude?" Kyle turns to look at Stan as he walks backwards to his position behind the pillar.

"Huh- oh... uhm, yeah. Just- you know- "I know," Kyle smiles softly, taking Stan's hand and squeezes it.

Their friends around them all watch knowingly, Stan slinking behind the pillar like a love-struck puppy. Cartman was still less than pleased, feeling like he had aged twenty years the last five minutes, "Alright, lovebirds, get in the fucking zone!"

Stan feels his hand crumpling the script as Kenny gives a lazy salute, "Camera rolling."

"And- ACTION!"

Stan steps out from behind the pillar again, heart pounding in his ear as he tries to focus on the blurred words on his script, "If I profane with my unworthiest hand-," He starts again, his voice cracking halfway and he pauses immediately as the embarrassment seeps in.

Kyle bites back a laugh, "Stan-"

God, Stan is probably gonna die right here, right now.

"CUT!" Cartman shouts, throwing his arms up in the air, "What was that?!"

"Sorry- "Sorry's not gonna cut it! Back to the top!"

Stan grumbles as they attempt Take 3, then 4, then 5. Each and every single time, Stan had fumbled his line because his heart would skip a beat everytime he had to take Kyle's hand in his. He didn't exactly exude confidence either, reading off his script like a child reading the morning announcements now that he knew of what was to come after each line delivery. And each and every time, Cartman grew more and more frustrated with Stan.

"My lips- fuck- "CUT!"

"To smooth that rough touch with- a gentle ki-" Stan gags as he feels something climbing up his throat, "CUT!"

Everyone does take their turn at encouraging Stan. But of course, none of it works. Stan could have some hidden talent in acting, but no amount of teaching and ego-boosting will help Stan wrangle with the feelings he so desperately tries to hide.

There was one take where Stan actually made it to his second line for once, "Have not saints lips, and holy palme- shit!" Stan feels it getting worse this time, having leaned in a little too close for comfort, just like in the actual scene, before recoiling in case he barfs all over Kyle.

"Fucks sake, CUT!"

But Stan kept trying anyway. Even with his awkward acting, each cut earned a laugh or a smile from Kyle at his pathetic attempts at acting. He tries his best to try and get into character, but Stan can't be Romeo. Romeo is the literal embodiment of the person he can't be. A confident man that would go to lengths for the person he's not afraid to say he loves, even if they were his rival, and even if death does them part.

That’s not Stan. Stan’s a coward.

Yet each laugh served as an encouragement to keep trying anyway, despite how many times Stan messed up.

By the time they reached Take 23, Cartman was already at his breaking point, "-For saints have hands that pilgrim's hands do touch- "STOP!"

Everyone snaps their head back to the fuming fat lard, Kyle looking a little irritated that he was cut off during his line, "Stan! Stop being your gayass self and start being Romeo!"

"Dude, at least I managed to deliver and finish my line a little better- "And 'a little better' isn't enough to win us $500, is it?!"

"You said we're not even being judged for acting!"

"But your acting reflects on me as a director! For gods sakes, Tokin, show him how it's done!" 

Tolkien's head snaps up at the mention of his name. Stan's first instinct was to immediately make some snarky comment on Tolkien's Tupperware costume, then groans and knocks his head with his fists.

Why the hell is he insulting Tolkien?!

"Wait, me?! Why me?!"

Cartman aggressively points at him, "Because you-know-why! Maybe some of it will rub off on Captain Hormones over here!"

Stan is rendered speechless, unsure of whether he wanted to bite back and come off as desperate to keep his role and risk revealing the feelings he's worked so hard to hide, or to relent and start stewing in his anger off to the side while wondering why he felt that way to begin with.

"Stop stereotyping me, asshole," Tolkien grumbles and walks over to Stan. The latter hesitantly hands the script over and walks over to the side, trying not to glare daggers into the floor.

Kyle and Tolkien reset to their T-marks as Stan makes his way to Kenny's side. His hands were shoved deep into his pants pockets, knuckles white. Cartman starts barking orders on everyone's positions and lighting adjustments, but Stan doesn't hear it.

It was like tunnel vision. Despite everything else that was happening, his attention was zeroed in on Tolkien practicing the lines with Kyle. The easy, unguarded grin on Kyle's face that usually makes Stan feel warm inside now twists in his chest like a knife.

He shouldn't be so bothered. It's not like they're a thing, or that this stupid film was supposed to be taken seriously. So why the hell does it feel like someone's pouring acid into his veins?!

Stan tries to reason with himself. It's just frustration over not being able to deliver his lines even after 23 attempts, anger at being easily replaced. But seeing Kyle complaining about how stupid this entire video is, laughing along side Tolkien instead of him-

Stan's stomach drops.
It's not anger anymore... is it?
It's jealousy, he knew that it was, all too well.

Real, ugly, suffocating jealousy that he can't reason away.

Fuck me.

Kenny catches it immediately because of course he does, "Careful, dude," he whispers, "Your feelings are showing."

"I don- I... I-" Stan trips over his words because there's nothing he can say. How long is he willing to hurt himself like this?

Kenny raises a brow, seeing Stan's defenses lower every time he's challenged on his bottled up feelings, "Hit a nerve?"

Stan looks away, pretending to be engrossed with some imaginary speck on the wall, "You don't know what you're talking about."

Kenny knows, though. Everyone knows. Even Cartman's side-eyeing Stan fuming silently on the sidelines with that satisfactory look.

"Dude... this isn't helping them," Kenny leans towards Cartman. It's obvious of what Cartman was aiming for, and it's definitely working, "What if you make it worse?"

"Shut up Kienny, just stay in your lane," Cartman claps his hands to get everyone's attention, "Ok everyone, back to one! And Tolkien, try to make it seem like you're actually in love instead of reading a shopping list."

Stan wants to roll his eye at the not so subtle jab at him, but he feels his throat tighten instead. He watches as Tolkien reaches for Kyle's hand, saying the line without even looking at the script that he himself couldn't get right a dozen times earlier. The lighting seems just right, like the two belong to be in front of the camera. Despite how he tries to remind himself that it's just acting, the look in both Tolkien and Kyle's eyes say otherwise.

Kyle looked absolutely radiant. Despite him being the against this entire project the most, he was playing alongside Tolkien as if he was born to act.

And then, Tolkien smiles, and Kyle flushes.

Something in Stan's chest snaps as Tolkien and Kyle continue the scene further than he had gotten.

He turns away to look down at the ground in defeat. He tries telling himself it doesn't matter. 'It's only acting' repeating in his head like a mantra. It's not like Kyle's his.

So why does it hurt so much to tell himself that? Why does it hit him harder than it should, echoing in his head like a cruel joke?

Kyle's not his.
He would never be his.

By the time Cartman calls 'Cut' before the two were suppose to go into the 'elevator', Stan's fists are clenched so tight it hurts. He could hear applause for the performance and clapping from their friends, but it's all distant. He feels like he's drowning, suffocating in something he's still too scared to name.

"That was perfect, you guys! You might as well dump your hippie ass emo boyfriend for Tokin."

"I'LL THROW MY OTHER SHOE AT YOU, FATASS!"

Kenny holds out a bottle of water to Stan after noticing his behavior, concern lacing his voice, "You're gonna explode if you keep bottling it up, you know."

Stan stares at the bottle, tracing the hand holding it to meet Kenny's eyes, "I need the bathroom," He mumbles and hastily makes his way out of the soundstage.

Kenny makes brief eye contact with Wendy and they both immediately chase after Stan, "I didn't know the jewboy had it in him," Cartman grins, unaware of the departure of the other three.

Kyle scoffs, folding his arms, "Money is a good motivator."

Someone mumbles 'sure it is', but Kyle ignores it for now despite his heart beating in his ears.

"Ok, everyone take a break and be back in fifteen. Hippie, I hope you were watch- wait where did they go?"

Everyone looks up to see three figures retreating outside the door, the last thing they hear is the distant call of Stan's name as the doors swing back shut.

"Stan!" Kenny yells and grabs a hold of his friend's shoulder armor.

Stan immediately jerks away from Kenny's hand like it burns, his breath coming out uneven. His chest tightens with every inhale as he attempts to walk away again, and every image of Kyle and Tolkien acting together sticking to him like paper mache.

"Dude, stop for a sec!" Kenny tries again, keeping pace with Wendy on the other side, "You can't just storm off everytime Cartman acts like a dick-"

"This isn't about Cartman!" Stan snaps as he comes to a screeching halt, the words coming out louder than he meant.

The two stop, their worry only increasing seeing Stan's manic state as he paces around, his breathing laboured and his hands scratching at himself.

Stan runs shaky hands through his hair as he finds the nearest wall to lean against as Wendy and Kenny crowd him worriedly. Stan's voice lowers as he sinks to the ground, bitter, "It's not him. It's me."

Wendy reaches a hand to rub Stan's arm soothingly, gently lifting her gown to squat down in front of Stan, "We... kind of figured," She says softly, "You looked like you were about to punch a hole through Tolkien."

Stan pulls his knees to his chest, hanging his face down so his hair covers the rest of his dignity, "It's so fucking stupid. I shouldn't care, it's some dumb film competition bullshit," Stan exhales shakily, staring at the space between his sneakers.

"And yet, here you are," Kenny sits next to Stan, leaning his head against the wall.

"He was smiling," Stan mutters, barely audible, "With Tolkien. Like- I mean- I get that I can't act but I... does he like... does-"

Wendy sits on her haunches, her tone gentle as she pushes the hair out of his face, "Stan, Kyle's your best friend. You really think he'd drop you just because he did the scene better with someone else?"

Stan wanted to retort, to argue back. But he was too tired, his feelings having exhausted him of all his energy, his pent up feelings seeping through the cracks "It's not about that," Stan mumbles, his throat feeling dry, "It's just- every time I look at him, it's like my brain shuts off. And I keep telling myself it's nothing, that it's just nerves or whatever because we've only just started talking for like over a week. But then I see him with someone else and it's-" Stan bites his lip hard he was drawing blood.

"-it's like your jealous?" Kenny finishes for him, but he doesn't hold a teasing or unkind tone.

Stan doesn't provide an answer, but he doesn't need to.

The silence that follows was heavy, you could almost smell the smoke coming from Stan's brain as he's trying to process all the emotions that are crashing down on him like a train. He does eventually lift his head, staring at the lights above them, "I can't even act around him. Not just in this dumb play, it's every time! I just- we joke around for a bit. I laugh, he laughs, and for five seconds it's great, until I realize I'm not suppose to feel like this!"

Wendy exchanges a glance with Kenny before resting a hand on Stan's hair and gently running through it to comfort him, "You don't have to say anything out loud that you are not ready for," she starts, "... but maybe it's time you stop pretending you don't know what this is."

Stan's jaw tightens, looking back down at the floor, silent for a good few seconds before speaking again in a very hushed voice, "I do know."

Kenny turns to sit cross-legged on the floor, facing Stan, "Then quit beating yourself up over it. Liking someone, especially your best friend, is not the end of the world."

Stan lets out a weak, humourless laugh, "Doesn't mean it doesn't suck, though. Especially if it's the guy you stopped talking to after a nasty fallout."

Kenny and Wendy look at each other with a frown hearing the defeated tone in Stan's voice, "But you haven't even tried. This is the first time you're even acknowledging you're feelings for Kyle! Don't push it away!" Wendy exclaims.

Stan lets out another shaky breath, ihs hands gripping his knees until he scratches the fabric of his pants, "But I have to!" His voice comes out quiet, but raw, "I keep telling myself it's just nostalgia. That I miss the way things used to be, before everything went to shit! It's because of these dumb feelings that ruined everything last time! And if I screw it up again, I don't think I could-" He cuts himself off before he begins spiraling further, feeling his breathing falter.

Wendy's voice is calm, but firm, "You're assuming it's already ruined before even giving it a chance. You're just scared, Stan."

Stan shakes his head, his body trembling, "Not scared, terrified," His voice is hoarse, his confession barely above a whisper, "Terrified that Kyle will push me away again. That he won't even let me try, just like he did that night!" Stan pulls on his hair, his emotions finally breaking free as a tear trickles down his cheek.

Stan sense his friends confusion and worry in the silence, finally allowing himself to cry softly as he releases his painful grip on his hair, "The night Kyle gave me the ultimatum, to choose between our friendship and Wendy..."

Scenes from that night begin swirling around him like a whirlpool, as if he was being sent back in time to replay the painful memories that have been plaguing him for years.

"Kyle... you're my super best fri- "No, Stan. Don't give me that." Kyle yells at him.

"I need your answer, Stan. Not some bullcrap excuse. It's me or her."

Stan stares up at Kyle, dumbfounded. Feeling the alcohol leave his system as well as the blood from his face. There's no way Kyle would make him choose like this, would he? But even when faced with such a choice, the answer was always obvious.

Kyle snaps again, eyes squeezed shut as the tears continue to flow, "You never seem to learn, do you? Both of you keep trying to search for feelings that aren't there, and keep deluding yourself anyway that they are!"

"You- you don't get it, dude. I can't just choo- "Can't choose between keeping your sanity or driving yourself crazy over a girl that won't love you?"

"I-I'm sorry..." Stan finally says, "I never wanted to hurt you."

Kyle's laugh comes out hollow, "Yeah? Well you did anyway."

Stan feels the complicated feelings pile on to him. He wants his best friend dearly, and there's something he doesn't quite understand that was screaming at him to pick the choice his heart was begging for.

But he's a coward, he always was when it came to his feelings.

Stan's eyes sting, "I can't-... I...don't make me do this, Kyle."

"I need a fucking answer! No more bullshitting around, Stan!"

Stan's lips quiver as he struggles to get onto his feet, the weight of his decision tying him down to the ground. So Stan stayed quiet.

Kyle’s anger was rightfully placed, and one wrong word could set him off further and ruin their entire friendship

Stan's inability to answer was all Kyle needed. Kyle's face hardens, whatever hope was left in his eyes were shattered by betrayal and disbelief.

"Yeah, that's what I fucking thought," Kyle marches to the bathroom door and holds it open, his eyes darken as he tilts his hat forward to hide the pain, "Get out, Stan."

"Kyle-"

"GET OUT!"

Stan tries to protest, but seeing the broken expression and tears in his eyes was enough to shut him up. Kyle was done, and all Stan could do was slowly make his way to the front door, and forced to watch their friendship end with the slam of a door.

Stan's voice shakes, "I told myself I was fine, but I knew that that cut deeper than any breakup I had with Wendy," he clenches the fabric of his shirt above his chest, "I knew what my answer was deep down, but I realized it too late. I was too scared that he would run away if I tried telling him, but he did anyway without giving me the chance."

Kenny wraps his arm around Stan's shoulder, "Stan, you both have been hurting since that night. But that means you both meant a lot to each other, and you still do now."

"We still haven't talked about it properly. I just-" Stan feels himself wanting to pull out his hair again, but Wendy gently takes a hold of his hands in hers, "Stan, you'll never know unless you try. You don't have to confess to him, but just be honest with yourself first, and the rest will come."

Stan begins to regain control of his breathing, the weight of that night still lingering in his chest. But at least this time, it doesn't feel as heavy. And maybe, he can finally talk to Kyle about it and eventually work up to confessing his feelings.

"Yeah," He whispers to himself, "Maybe I should've have just said it back then."

Wendy tilts her head, "Said what?"

Stan's lips twitch into a faint, almost self-mocking smile, "It was never about choosing."

He looks down, his voice soft and final.

"It was always him."

The hallway outside the soundstage was eerily quiet except for muffled voices when the three finally walked back in. The buzz of laughter and idle chatter filled the room, Cartman barking new orders as he notices Stan returning, Craig and Clyde begin freaking out the moment they saw Kenny and tries to undo whatever settings they messed with on the camera.

Stan was scared, but he looks up anyway, his eyes finding the angel regardless of the sea of costumes, staring at his script in the middle of the set by himself. The sight was mesmerizing, and every nerve in his body is screaming to look away like he always does, but instead, he forces himself to breath through it.

He doesn't want to run anymore.

Kenny gives Stan a subtle nudge with his elbow, "You good, dude?"

Stan nods faintly, but his voice comes out small, "Yeah, just... need to settle down, I guess."

Wendy pats Stan on the back, "You'll be ok. Don't put too much pressure on yourself."

Stan nods, staring at the floor. He eventually manages to look back up, and his body tenses up when he notices that Kyle's already spotted him.

Fuck.

For a second, their eyes meet, and everything inside Stan seizes up again. While his body doesn't try to shrink away out of fear, there's still that tiny part of him that is scared of what he'd do if he lets his feelings take over completely. 

Kyle's face seems to soften and he puts his script down on a nearby prop table and walks up to Stan.

Kenny and Wendy both give Stan one more encouraging nudge and split off, leaving Stan tense as he feels his pulse kick up.

"Hey, you ok, dude?" Kyle asks worriedly, "You ran out of here like a ticking time-bomb."

Stan forces himself to laugh, "Yeah... just needed a breather."

Kyle studies him for a moment, not fully buying Stan's story but wasn't willing to push him too much, "It was Cartman, wasn't it? I'll beat him up if you want me to- "NO! No- it's fine, Kyle."

Stan laughs a little at how quick to anger his friend was, "I'll be- I'll be fine," Stan swallows hard, attempting to keep his voice steady, "You were really good, by the way. The uh- you and Tolkien, I mean. You really nailed it."

Kyle raises a brow and laughs, "Really? I kinda just felt a little weird, I guess."

"You probably got use to the amount of retakes cause of me."

"Nah. It just... it didn't feel right, I guess."

Stan blinks. What—did he just say, "Didn't feel right?"

Kyle shrugs, shoving his hands into the pocket of the red varsity he had shoved over the wing straps, "Yeah, I dunno. Maybe it's because Cartman kept demanding more romance and shit, but..." He pauses, glancing down at his one shoe, "... it didn't feel the same as when we were doing the scene."

Play it cool play it cool play it cool-

"When we were?"

Kyle looks up again to meet Stan's surprised and flustered expression with his own mild-confusion, "Yeah, I mean I know you were stumbling over your words and all, but it felt more-" Kyle's shoulders tighten, as if he was unsure himself, "-I dunno, real?"

Stan could feel his heart shaking his ribs like it was a prison cell. Real. Kyle thought it felt real.

He's actually going to fucking ram his head against the backdrop.

His brain scrambles for something to say, but the only thing that he manages to spit out is a stuttered, "Oh- oh. Cool."

Fucking idiot.

They stand there for a few moments in their silence. It wasn't awkward, or comfortable. It felt dangerous. Like they were standing on a fence and they could fall either way with just one misstep. It just depends which side they fall onto.

And Stan was begging that they fall together into a blissful happy ending.

Kyle clears his throat and hands Stan's script back that he took from Tolkien, "Anyway, here. Cartman wants you back in as Romeo for the next take. If you can memorize your lines and make it into the elevator, all we'll need are the B-rolls and seperate camera angles tomorrow."

Stan takes the script, his fingers brushing against Kyle's for a second, and it was like lighting was zapping through his body.

He fumbles to grab it properly, clutching it to his chest, "Right- Let's hope I can actually make it through my lines first."

"Oi, Kienny! Go grab our leading lady so that we can begin our next take!"

Stan could see Kyle pop a vein as he grabs his other shoe and throws it right at the back of Cartman's head, "I'M GOING TO RIP YOUR HEAD OFF YOUR SHOULDERS!"

Kyle's shoe sails true and bonks Cartman's head, "AY! KIENNY, GRAB JEWLIET! AND MAKE SURE THERE'S NO MORE FLYING SHOE PROJECTILES!"

Kyle begins yelling nonsensical insults as Kenny reluctantly drags a screaming Kyle to the center of the set, much to Stan's amusement as he follows.

"Make sure you remember those lines, hippie. I don't want to see scripts for this take!"

"Yeah yeah, just shut up, Cartman," Stan stares at the few lines on his paper before tossing it to the wind as it lands right on Cartman's face, earning an irritated squeal while Stan takes his place by his mark.

Everyone begins to ready themselves. Kyle shakes off the jacket around his frame, and Kenny sets his camera on a gimbal so that he could follow the two's movements through the scene as Cartman yells for quiet on set.

Stan has to be ready this time. He will be, right?

The crowd erupts in thunderous applause as a performer off screen concludes their performance. Romeo, dressed in cheap armor, emerges from behind the marble pillar in the middle of the room, his gaze fixated on the mysterious winged angel shifting uncomfortably in place next to the man he was forcefully shoved to dance with.

Romeo can't help but feeling his heart race as he gazes on the mysterious, yet handsome stranger that had caught his attention. Against his better judgement, he snakes around the pillar and gently pulls the now surprised red-head close to him, not failing to notice the startled but not-displeased smile on his face.

With a grin, Romeo can't help the whispered sweet words that leave his tongue, "If I profane with my unworthiest hand. This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this."

The two immediately pull their hands apart when more applauses erupt and a very uncandidly-excited astronaut looks back at Juliet, pointing at all the balloons and confetti, the two teens pretending to clap with the crowd.

Romeo still felt bold, and leans closer to the object of his affection, a giddy grin on his face, "My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand," Romeo grabs Juliet's hand, bringing his fingers close to his lips, "To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

Juliet stares at him as he pulls away teasingly, taking a love-struck Romeo with him, "Good pilgrim," he replies, his voice steady but delicate, "you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this. For saints have hands that pilgrims do touch-"

The two lock eyes, the romantic tension in the air rising as they do, "-and palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss."

Romeo leans closer, the air between them charged and breathless, "Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?" He smiles, their faces almost touching when Juliet turns away once more.

"Ay, pilgrim," Juliet's gushing smile doesn't falter as the two walk closer to the two golden doors at the end of the room, as he gently scolds the mysterious knight, "lips that they must use in prayer."

The two dance around each other without their hands touching, Romeo's voice dropping, reverent, pleading, "O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."

"Saints do not move," Juliet tilts his head, eyes flickering briefly to Romeo's lips before returning to those ocean blue eyes, "-though grant for prayer's sake."

"Then move not," Romeo whispers, the words falling like a promise as the close the gap between them, "While my prayer's effect I take."

The lift dings open and Juliet snaps his head up to see two familiar ball gown-dressed gals nearby, pulling a less than pleased astronaut with them, and panics. He drags Romeo inside the doors as the other man wraps his arm around his waist.

A passionate off-screen (non-)kiss was shared between the two. The elevator doors slide shut with a soft chime, nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing. When they part, Juliet exhales shakily, his lashes fluttering.

"Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purged."

"Then have my lips the sin that they have took."

Romeo smiles faintly, his thumb brushing the side of the angel's hand still held in his own, "Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again."

His eyes lock on the waiting parted lips…

Stan snaps out of character, feeling Kyle's warm breath against his neck. Their eyes lock, and he feels something in his throat, but his lips twitch, yearning for something even more.

"Kyle..." He whispers, as if asking for permission.

Kyle wraps an arm around Stan's neck, "Please."

Stan leans in, slow and deliberate, and Kyle meets him halfway, filled with something far too real for fiction as their lips move against each other. There's nothing but the sound of them and the faint fake hum of the old machinery (And Kenny with the camera, watching with his jaw on the floor).

The air stilled, and the ground felt like it was melting away. The moment their lips met, it was like fireworks being set off in Stan's heart as he feels Kyle push for more.

Kyle's hand grips the sleeve on Stan's shirt as the two refuse to pull away. Stan's pulse pounds violently in his ears that he forgets where he was. The world was blurred, dreamlike, unreal, except for the solid warmth of his best friend in his arms.

The kiss was deepened on instinct and Kyle lets out a small whine. That only encouraged Stan to keep going, the logic in his brain was long gone. Stan could come up with every excuse in the book, that he got too into character, or that it was just him mimicking Leonardo’s performance from the scene. But it’s all an obvious lie.

It was the moment Kyle gave him permission that he abandoned all caution and kissed like he meant it.

Cause he did.

When they finally pull apart, it isn't abrupt. It's slow and reluctant, as neither knew where fiction ends and reality begins anymore. Stan's eyes open first; greeted by Kyle's flushed cheeks and dazed expression.

Neither speaks for a long moment, then Kyle lets out a small, breathless laugh, "You kiss by the book," He mumbles.

No… no he did not. Because it wasn't Romeo performing anymore.

Stan loved Kyle, and he would give everything to feel those lips on his again.

The fake elevator dings again, releasing the spell they were under as the doors part and the faint echo of Cartman's voice and excited yelling from their friends echo from somewhere beyond the set, all of them gathered around the director's monitor hooked up to the camera.

But neither of them move, and Stan's grip around Kyle doesn't relent.

Stan's lips still tingle with the warmth of Kyle's, and his fingers ached from holding on too tightly. The lingering taste of Kyle's chapstick is addictive, and it only makes him want more.

The moment was too fragile to break, but Stan pulls a hand away to cover his lips, "Uh- good... good job."

Kyle laughs and his lips moves to speak, but Cartman starts yelling excitedly, "THAT WAS PERFECT YOU GUYS! PERFECT! FINALLY SOME ACTING WITH PASSION!"

The shout jolts the three in the elevator. Kenny nearly drops the camera, trying (and failing) to stifle a laugh.

"That's a wrap for today, you guys! Tomorrow we'll come back for the extra camera angles!" Cartman yells as everyone begins to pack up their belongings but leaving the lights and set as is.

Kenny gives the two a wink and walks away to begin cleaning up.

Stan eventually does pull away, even though it hurt like hell for him to do. His face was red, but he couldn't stop smiling. Because for the first time in years, he isn't scared anymore.

"Stan..." Kyle breaks Stan's train of thought.

The latter blinks and meets Kyle's gaze, "Are- was... that-"

Stan sees the rapid movements of Kyle's chest raising and falling, and as much as he could feel himself wanting to barf and kiss him at the same time, he's too lightheaded from the kiss while also enjoying the freedom from his shackles of his denial.

"We... can talk about it later."

"Yeah... yeah, of course."

But Stan didn't want to, he already knows his answer. The one he's been running from all along.

He loved Kyle.

Chapter Text

That kiss, that damn fucking kiss.

Stan could still feel the lingering warmth of Kyle's soft lips on his, it's becoming a scary addiction.

But it’s been a week since the filming and the kickoffs, and Kyle’s been dancing around the topic like it’s a sport, much to the frustrations of Stan and their friends. Everytime Stan thought he had some alone time with Kyle and wanted to bring the topic up, suddenly Kyle would remember he had to reorganize his pencil case, or alphabetize his books in his lockers (What?).

Sometimes it even gets more convoluted such as:

”Can’t hang out later, I got a late homework assignment.”

Late? Kyle was never late when it comes to homework.

Sometimes, it’s blatantly obvious when Kyle is trying to talk himself out of something.

”Sorry dude, I gotta wash my lawn.”

or

”I gotta run, Cartman needs my help with something.”

Seriously… what the fuck? When the fuck does Kyle help Cartman with things?!

First of, Kyle is an organized freak. He would never have to ditch Stan because something suddenly required his attention to organize, and neither did he need to 'wash a lawn' or ever agree to help Cartman. Second of all- yeah, Kyle is avoiding Stan.

And it hurts... bad.

Like a maybe-I-shouldn't-have-kissed-him bad bad.

And it was really affecting not just him personally, but everything else with school as well. Stan was great during the kickoffs, riding off of his high from the kiss, but that was only a few days after it happened. Now that it’s been over a week, the last practice the team had was a grand return of the same, unmotivated quarterback.

And eeeeveryone and their mother knew why.

What was worse was the pitiful looks Stan got from everyone else. He hated the looks he got for it, and every part of his body was itching to run back home and ditch the School Fair to avoid seeing their kiss on the big screen. He didn't care anymore that people would see them as a couple, he'd love for nothing more than for it to be true. The problem lies with Kyle.

The awkward silences, the way Kyle's laugh fell short, or the way he wouldn't meet Stan's eyes for a second.

But his friends encouraged him regardless, apart from Cartman who was eerily quiet and acting suspiciously smug— which in hindsight, should have been Stan's red flag that things were about to get a whole lot worse before it gets better.

The bell had finally rung for the last class, and Wendy was dragging the reluctant lovesick fool to the school's gymnasium, "Come- on, Stan!"

"Leave me here to die," Stan dramatically falls to the floor and lies there, face down.

"You're so dramatic. Kyle probably needs time to process it, ok?"

"Love is dead. I'll never find someone as pretty as Kyle ever again."

Wendy drags Stan by the arm, letting his body mop the floor despite the concerned eyes that were on them, "Oh stop being such a pessimist. Love takes time, ok," Wendy tries to yank the deadweight up onto his feet. But it proves to be a challenge when said deadweight feels like a sandbag full of heartache and self-pity, "You two just need to talk it out."

Stan whines pathetically, "Right, cause we can barely talk about our fight without it being awkward, clearly the kiss is the next logical step."

"Don't get snarky with me, Stan. We're all trying to help you both— well except Cartman."

"No shit."

Wendy finally gets Stan on his feet and dusts the dirt off of his jacket, "Enough, Stan," She grabs his arms, ready to shake him, "You two can’t avoid each other forever. Not when you’re so close.”

Stan’s body felt heavy as he was forced onto his feet, “I’ve been trying, Wendy! It’s Kyle that doesn’t wanna talk.”

”I get that, but you can’t give up just yet. Like I said, Kyle just needs time, and when he’s ready. He’ll come to you.”

“Oh yeah?! Do I need to wait another seven years for that?”

Wendy rolls her eyes and continues to pull Stan along towards the already crowded gymnasium. As they push their way through the doors, the excited chatter of students looking throughout the different stalls echoed in their heads. Stan could feel some eyes on him and feels himself shrink and Wendy drags him over to their group of friends waiting in front of a big projection screen.

"Hey, fellas!" Butters excitedly raises his hand and waves the two over.

Stan barely musters a nod before his gaze lands on Kyle.

Kyle follows Butter's line of sight to Wendy and Stan and he freezes up a little. And for a split second, everything else dulls. The chatter, whatever film was being showcased on the projector, even Wendy's hand on his arm. Kyle's shoulders visibly tense, his expression faltering just enough for Stan to notice.

Stan's chest tightens. He wants nothing more than to have a normal conversation again, to go back to that easy rhythm they were getting into for just half a month, before everything got tangled up in that one perfect, confusing kiss.

"Hey, dude," Stan gives a small wave as he steps away from Wendy, trying to sound casual.

Kyle bites his lip, shifting in place, "Hey."

There's a pause. It wasn't long, but just enough for the air between them to feel fragile as Stan comes to a stop next to Kyle. Stan almost wants to say something, just anything to break the walls Kyle was putting between them. He can't stand spending another 7 years apart from the person he loved.

Stan’s lips move to speak first before his brain could pause to rethink, but immediate regret settles in as soon as the words leave his mouth.

"How... are you?"

Abort abort abort abort-

"Good."

Stan frowns at the one word answer. It’s a clear sign that Kyle doesn’t want to talk still. But what then? He waits for forever then? He can’t have that.

"So... is your locker finally organized?"

Fucking idiot.

Kyle shrugs, rubbing his arm, "Yeah."

Stan sighs, beating himself up internally. He just wanted to jump straight to the point, "Kyle...I-" Before Stan could find the words, Cartman's voice cuts through the moment, "Hey lovebirds, our magnum opus is almost on~!"

Kyle clenches his jaw, "Shut the fuck up, Cartman!"

Stan tries to ignore Cartman, keeping his eyes on Kyle, "Kyle-" Stan's voice cracks a little, "Can we please just... talk about- "It's fine, Stan. You did it for the scene."

Stan could feel his heart crack, a hollow ache spreading through his chest. Kyle's words were too quick, too rehearsed, like he'd been waiting all week to use them as a shield.

"No, Kyle- maybe the heat of the moment got to me and I probably shouldn't have done it but, it's not something I regret."

Kyle flinches, his head snapping toward Stan like he wasn't expecting him to say that. His lips part, but no sound comes out. The noise of the fair fades again, swallowed by the pounding in Stan's chest.

Kyle shakes his head, eyes darting away, "Stan, don't- "I mean it," Stan blurts out before Kyle can try to reason it away again, "I know that you think it was just acting, but it wasn't. At least, not for me."

Stan could hear Kyle's breathing tremble as he crosses his arms across his chest, "You don't know what you're saying."

"I do," Stan insists, his voice rising a little as feelings begin to boil over, "You've been avoiding me all week, and I get it, it was probably too much, and I made it worse. But you gave me the go ahead! I thought we were both on the same page- and I get you may be scared, but I don't want us to keep running around in circles anymore!"

"Just drop it, Stan!"

Stan scoffs, "Drop it?! Like our fight?!"

"We've settled it already."

"Settled it?! You pushed me away, Kyle! You made the decision for me. I will admit I was scared but I would've chosen y- "ENOUGH, STAN!"

Stan could see Kyle pop a vein, and he so desperately wants to reach out and hug him tight, or shake him so that he'd shut up and finally allow Stan to speak. But they’re both cut off by familiar music playing, and their bodies freeze up, slowly turning their heads to the projection screen.

The title card flashes: Cartman Productions Presents: Romeo and Juliet (But Gayer).

Kyle lets out a sharp breath and steps back, putting a safe inch of space between him and Stan.

Stan's heart sinks, the physical distance feeling like an emotional mile.

And then the screen changes. Familiar fake marble pillars, cheap armor, and that fucking party scene.

It was short, but seeing himself looking at Kyle like he's the most precious thing in the world, no wonder their friends were so insistent that he was in love.

It was right in front of him.

Yet it hurts more that their onscreen romance doesn't reflect reality.

Stan feels his stomach twist as their characters waltz around their inevitable kiss. Audible gasps could be heard, and one glance around at the students at the fair and you can tell everyone's eyes were glued to the screen.

And then, they kiss.

The gymnasium explodes with noise; gasps, whistles, and cheering.

Stan tries to catch his breath and Kyle's face goes scarlet.

And somewhere in the chaos, Cartman had made his way in front of the screen and grabbed the speakerphone, "Thank you, thank you. I'm sure we're all happy to see our favorite couple come together.”

The gymnasium erupts in applause once more, and Cartman’s grin widens, beaming with pride. His star actors, however, don’t seem to share the same sentiment as the crowd gathers closer, pushing them together so that their shoulders touch.

Stan’s face heats up at the proximity, and he swore he could hear Kyle’s heart racing just as fast as his as the two are surrounded by excited students.

”Yes yes, we’ve all been waiting for this moment. So Stan, Kyle, this one’s for you,” Cartman begins clapping once more, and encourages the crowd of students to cheer even louder.

Their friends try their best to settle the crowd down, and Kenny attempts to stop Cartman, but they were very much surrounded and outnumbered.

Cartman still seemed pleased with himself as the crowd eventually settles down, grabbing the speakerphone once more, “So I've prepared a little surprise for everyone."

Everyone cheers, except for their friends. The group helplessly looks over at the pair, knowing that that very kiss had only pushed them further away from each other.

The screen flicks over from the credit scene to an art piece, "I've commissioned the asian girls in our skewl, and they have prepared numerous pieces of art for our new gay couple! Their collection is called: Stan x Kahl."

Stan could feel the color drain from his face as he finally looks up to the big screen. There they were, in the elevator. The asian girls made him more chivalrous than he actually looked, but Kyle looked just as radiant, captured perfectly in the art piece. The pair's kiss sealed forever in a mortifying digital canvas.

Stan looks over at Kyle, and the same horrified expression painted his face. He didn't know whether he felt relieved that Kyle felt the same, or heartbroken.

Wait, collection?!

The room erupts in applause as students cheer for Stan and Kyle, phones out as the crowd shifts and starts to realize that it wasn't just on the big screen, it's everywhere.

From the walls of the gymnasium to the art stalls, pinned neatly to foam boards and taped beside school announcements, dozens of fanart prints are revealed, and each one was worse than the last.

Kyle's body begins to tremble against Stan, both of their eyes locking on a specific art stall selling fanart that was suggestive enough, but still considered safe for work.

Kyle's face was burning red, somewhere between fury and humiliation, "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS, CARTMAN?!"

“It’s your love showcased in art form, Jewliet~!”

“You call this art?! This is you trying to humiliate us in the worse fucking way possible!”

Stan tries to reach out to calm Kyle down, but it seems that the red-head had been pushed to the brink, “What sick fantasies do you have of us, fatass? You’ve been so obsessed over Stan and I for what?! We are NOTHING like Tweek and Craig!”

Cartman gasps loudly, dramatically clutching his chest, "Oh wow, Kahl," He coos into the speakerphone, "Someone's in denial~"

Kyle's stuck in limbo, jugging his mortification, humiliation, and his anger, "I swear to God, Cartman, if you don't shut the hell u-"

The crowd hears 'Tweek and Craig', and suddenly, the gym loses its mind. Whispers igniting like wildfire around the pair.

"Oh my god, they're actually dating too?-"
"Dude, we got another gay couple in the school! Tweek and Craig got competition~!"
"Did they actually kiss for real?!"
"Bro, we all knew they were fucking gay for each other!"
"STYLE IS CANON?!"

Stan feels the heat intensify. He didn't like how everyone was gossiping about them while they were right there, objectifying their relationship.

"Kyle-" Stan murmurs, trying gently to place a hand on Kyle's arm.

Kyle flinches away, as if Stan's touch had burnt him,"Don't."

Stan withdraws immediately, hurt flickering across his expression.

On the big screen in front of them, another art piece flashes. Various fanarts of them cycle like a slideshow, with Cartman standing proudly in front of it all. 

Kyle's breathing quickens as each piece appears, each one feeding that growing pit in his stomach.

Then, the last piece appears.

It wasn't even an art piece this time, it was a BTS photo of the two right before their final take that was used in the final edit. Kyle was mid-laugh, head tilted back, bright and unguarded. Stan stood beside him, stumbling through his line with a heated blush climbing up his cheeks, but the way he was looking at Kyle all soft and dazzled, completely gone in some filtered version of Kyle in his eyes—felt painfully real. And the backlight casts a warm halo over their shoulders, turning the candid snapshot into something that looked undeniably genuine, a connection no drawing could ever capture.

It was raw, not like the over exaggerated drawings of them in some made up scenario. There's a spark that hits different in the photo that makes it all the more powerful, and a whole lot more humiliating.

The gym collectively 'aws', and Cartman coos, laughing out loud, "We're looking forward to the wedding invitations, Kahl~!"

And Kyle's composure snaps just like that, "STOP FUCKING LAUGHING! THIS ISN'T SOME FUCKING ROMCOM, CARTMAN!"

He takes a step back, then another, forcing the crowd to split, and the trembling in his hands turns into full on shaking. His voice comes out raw, cracking, "JUST- JUST STOP LOOKING AT US!"

The room suddenly goes silent, even Cartman pauses at Kyle's outburst.

Stan's heart was cracking in two just seeing Kyle so distraught and all he could do was stand and watch. Kyle's eyes shine with something dangerously close to tears as he looks around at all the faces aimed at him, like numerous spotlights directed at him, and every whisper like a knife in his ribs.

"I-I don't want-" His voice wavers, "I didn't ask for any of this!"

"Kyle," Stan whispers again as he takes a step closer, the crowd clearing a path for Stan, "It's ok, dude, just breath."

But Kyle cuts him a look that guts Stan like a blade, "It's NOT ok! This-" He gestures wildly at everything around them before landing his finger on Stan, "THIS IS YOUR FAULT!"

Stan recoils, stunned, "My-? Kyle, no- I-I didn't do any of this-"

"YOU KISSED ME, STAN!" Kyle's voice booms through the gym, louder than intended, shaking with emotion, "You started all of this, and now- now everyone thinks-!"

"Kyle-" Stan reaches for him again, softer this time, pleading, "I didn't want this either. I would never- I just, I don't know!"

"You seemed to know damn well what you were doing when you fucking kissed me! I knew I should have never let you do that, you fucking asshole!"

Stan breath catches like he was just punched in the face. Kyle's words hit him harder than Kyle probably intended, but they echo through the silent gym.

"Kyle..." Stan's voice was shaky and wounded, "Dude, I didn't- I didn't mean- didn't mean to mess everything up."

Kyle lets out one short, breathless laugh, the kind of sound someone makes right before they fall apart, "Well, congratulations," He snaps, voice cracking, "You did."

"You let me, I- I..." Stan's voice falls as he physically folds into himself, shoulders drawing tight, "I just thought-"

"Whatever you fucking thought, you thought wrong!"

Stan flinches like the words physically hit him, and the gym goes so quiet you can hear the faint hum of the projector hum behind them. Kyle's fist curl at his sides, his whole body vibrating, "Kyle, don't push me away again, please."

Stan feels the hot tears, leaving a burning wet trail down his cheeks, and locks eyes with him. But Kyle shakes his head, trembling harder now, "I hate this. I hate all of this! Cartman, this entire stupid project, the dumb fucking fanart of us, the picture, I fucking hate it- I HATE YOU!"

Kyle steps back, turns on his heel, and pushes through the students, disappearing out the gym doors before he can break down in front of everyone.

For a moment, nobody moves.

The fanarts, the movie, and the kiss suddenly felt so distant as Kyle's words echo in Stan’s head. He stands there shaking, tears slipping down his cheeks unchecked. He's not even trying to hold back anymore. He just stares at the doors Kyle disappeared through, chest heaving like he inhaled smoke.

I hate you.

His legs nearly give out.

"Stan?" Butters whispers, voice tiny in the vast silence.

I hate you.

Wendy takes a cautious step forward beside Butters, guilt flickering across her face. Kenny mutters swears under his breath and marches up to the front of the projection screen, ripping the speakerphone out of Cartman's hands so violently the cord snaps.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Kenny snarls.

Cartman stumbles back, offended, "Dude what?! I was just trying to help those two idiots. This is just Stan's 'Troy Bolton' moment."

The argument felt so far away. Despite all the yelling and sweet comforting words and touches, the pain stung worse than anything Stan every felt before.

I hate you.

No football tackles, concussions, or broken bones could ever amount to this.

"You call this help?!" Wendy spits as she whips her head around, eyes blazing with fury, "Kyle just had a panic attack in front of the entire school and you've just ruined their progress all over again!"

I hate you.

"Not my fault that jew has such a fragile little heart. Maybe Stan should go sing that high school musical crap to win him ba-"

Kenny grabs Cartman by the collar and stares him down, "I fucking warned you, fatass! And then you just had to take it a step further. I swear to fucking god, I will rip your head out and scoop out whatever little of your brain there is and use you as a fucking fruit bowl!"

I hate you.

Even Cartman looks taken aback, for once not fully processing what he's caused.

I hate you.

But Stan barely hears any of them.

I hate you.

His breathing was shallow, uneven. His hands hung limp at his sides, fingers curling inwards as his nails dig into his palms as he tries—and fails, to steady himself.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

I hate you.

Kyle's voice replays in the back of his mind, and Stan chokes on a sound. Something between a gasp and a sob.

Butters steps towards Stan gently, Wendy and him both coming to his sides and rubbing his back gently, "Come on, Stan. Let's get you out of here," Butters whispers and the two gently guide Stan out of the gymnasium.

Kenny gives Cartman one final glare as he and the rest of their friends follow Stan out.

The school hallway felt colder than the gym. Quieter too, and at least it gives Stan some room to breath. He walks between Wendy and Butters in a daze, a hollow shell of who he was just a week ago, his sneakers scuffing against the floor because he can't even be bothered to lift his feet.

Wendy squeezes Stan's shoulder, trying to anchor him, and Butters whispers words of comfort, like he's scared anything louder might shatter Stan completely.

They reach the end of the hall, and Stan halts. His breath trembles out of him in broken, random segments.

"He didn't mean it, "Wendy says quietly, "Stan, Kyle didn't mean what he said."

Stan wipes his face with his sleeve, but fresh tears keep tracking down. His voice cracks open when he finally whispers the broken words, "...he hates me."

Kenny catches up with the trio, Wendy immediately stepping aside for Kenny to take over, eyes softer than anyone was used to, "Stan, I'm so sorry. God, I knew I should have tried to stop Cartman the moment he suggested this dumb proje-"

Kenny stops when he sees Wendy shaking her head. No self pitying and regret will change anything and help Stan now. Not when this is the most heartbroken he's ever looked.

"He hates me- Kenny, he hates me. He hates me, he hates me he- "No dude. He's..."

Kenny sighs, "He's...you know, scared. There was a lot that kept you two apart, and with how fragile your relationship is, he's just scared to ruin it all again. He probably thinks he already did."

Stan's throat tightens. Pressing his palm against his eyes like he can force the tears back inside, "Then- Then why-... why did he- "Say it?" Kenny finishes and Stan nods.

"Becomes sometimes," Kenny starts gently, "-you hurt the person you'd do anything not to lose."

Stan flinches at that, swallowing around a lump so thick it hurts.

The rest of their friends do catch up, but keep their distance as they were at a loss for what to do. Wendy gives them a look to leave it to them, but even then, she seems stuck.

Butters rubs Stan's arm soothingly and Kenny pulls Kyle's (clean of barf) handkerchief from Stan's pocket to help wipe the snot and tears, "Oh, Stanley," Kenny says softly.

Stan feels himself calming down, the loving support of his friends calming the nerves that were zapping through his body like a broken electrical circuit. Kenny smiles as he sees Stan's state settle, wiping a tear with his thumb.

Wendy steps beside Kenny, a hand now resting on both boys shoulders, "It sucks Stan, but we tend to hurt the people we love most. And-" Wendy's breath hitches, meeting Stan's broken expression as she's taken back into the past for a moment. It hurts to see the pain she once caused him show itself once more. Her breathing falters, and she stops herself from saying more.

Before the silence can settle too heavily, another voice pipes up from behind Stan.

"Stan," The strong, familiar voice of his teammate speaks softly, and Stan turns around reluctantly, "Hey, bud."

Stan lifts his head, and all their friends could feel their hearts crack a little, even Craig, if you can believe it. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, his nose was stuffy, he looked wrecked.

Tolkien was the one who spoke, and he forces a smile when Stan finally looked up at them, "You doing ok?"

Stan's head hung low and he hesitantly shakes his head.

"He- Hey. Kyle didn't mean it!" Tweek's voice shakes a little, but he sounded more confident in his own words than Stan felt, "He was scared. A-And there was a lot of pressure back in there!"

Bebe lingers behind them all, arms crossed, but eyes softer than usual, "Kyle freaked out. You both did. And honestly? Anyone would've. What Cartman did was fucked up and neither of you should feel forced to admit your feelings."

Stan gives a tiny, broken laugh through tears and covers his eyes with his arms once more, "But he hates me. He hated the kiss. He-" Stan's voice cracks once more as more hot tears come spilling down his face.

Wendy shakes her head and looks beside her at the broken shell that was once Stan, "He cares about you, Stan. We all know he does. You both fucked up, so what? We all say things we don't mean. What Kyle said wasn't right, but that doesn't mean it's not something you two can't fix."

Clyde nods emphatically, "Dude, Kyle would fight God if he looked at you funny."

Craig crosses his arms and nods alongside him, "And he'd lose. Horribly. But he'd still do it, so the effort counts."

A small snort finally escapes Stan, and he wipes the tears away once more.

The others smile and Kenny steps in front of Stan again, "For what it's worth, Kyle looked devastated after he said it. So lighten up. And don't you both start ignoring each other again. I'm not doing this crap for another year."

"Shut the hell up, dude," Stan laughs a little more, and everyone lets out a relieved sigh.

"Give yourselves some space for now. Take a walk or something, and when you feel ready, just go and talk to Kyle. You know how he is. So make him listen to you," Kenny grins, giving Stan a light punch on the shoulder.

Stan rubs his shoulder and shoots an amused glare at Kenny, "Yeah yeah, I will. Don't worry. I'm not letting him slip away from me again."

Never again.

Kyle ran. Ran as fast as he could. Ran faster than he ever did before. He wanted to escape the noise, inhaling the cold winter breeze sharply with every panting breath.

He didn't notice the way his shoelace undid itself and how he almost trips, or how wet the sleeves of his jacket had become with his tears as he shoved past the school doors. He didn't feel the ache in his legs or the sting behind his eyes. Just the neverending pit of guilt that only continues to grow, ringing panic swallowing him whole.

Stan's broken face burned in his mind, and he can't help but see that night flash once more before he slammed the door shut on his Super Best Friend. 

His feet carried him on instinct— down the sidewalk, past the crosswalk, pass the CityWok and the field they once played in so long ago. He runs through it all and down a path that had been carved in muscle memory.

Straight to Stark's Pond.

The snow crunched after every desperate step, slipping on patches of half-melted snow. His breath came out in sharp bursts, and each puff of air scraped his throat.

Kyle's vision was a blur, wet with tears, when his foot hits a slick patch of snow and he goes down hard, the cold biting through his jeans and the impact jolting up his spine. His palms slapped the snow, soaking instantly, and when he pushes himself up, he sees it. The smear of dirty, half-melted snow staining the sleeves of the jacket he worked so hard to clean.

He froze at the glimpse of Stan's flushed face when he first saw Kyle wearing it back at the hospital. There's something inside that was kicking at the doors of his heart, screaming what he wanted to believe was true. But Kyle would never believe that. How could he?

"Fuck- fuck. Stop it- stop it!"

A choked sound tore out of him as he shrugged the jacket off violently. The cold slapped his skin immediately, but he didn't care. He didn't want the weight of it or the memory tied to it. He didn't want the ghost of Stan's touch or whispered sweet words.

He threw the jacket down on the ground and scrambled back to his feet, running down the path that felt colder and lonelier. 

Stan's voice echoes in the back of his mind. And no matter how many times Kyle tries to blink the image away, Stan left standing while Kyle continues to push him away again and again with eyes shining and voice breaking as Stan tries to reach out is branded into Kyle’s bones.

Kyle had slammed the door on him.

His chest tightened so sharply he stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the bench. 

"I didn't-" He rasped, voice raspy as he gasps for air, "I didn't mean- I didn't-"

I hate you.

But the words died before they could even be formed. What good explanations could Kyle ever come up with when he couldn't even face the person they were meant for.

I hate you.

Kyle limps over to sit on the bench, propping his feet up, pulling his hat off, and hugging his knees to his chest. The guilt cutting deeper than any knife could.

Those 2 weeks with Stan felt like home, and now it was like hell on earth when the one person he so desperately wanted to reach out to was the same person he hurt the most. But Kyle was a coward, too scared to find out the truth, that he'd rather live in what he knows now despite the pain, rather than take the risk.

He had taken the warmth that was his best friend, in his hands, and crushed it like a grape before even checking if it was rotten. 

Letting his forehead drop against his knees, Kyle cries even harder. His breathing labored, his body trembling. All of his self-deprecation hurt more than any of the cuts and bruises bitten by the cold winter breeze.

Kyle hated himself for running, for hurting Stan, and he absolutely hated the way he still wanted— so desperately, so stupidly wanted the warmth of the very boy he shoved away.

Kyle was a coward, he always would be. Too scared to let that warmth in, and snuff out that spark himself because that was just how Kyle is. Too scared of the unknown feelings between them and afraid to ruin the now.

He's unlovable. No one should love someone that is scared of what it represents.

Kyle curls tighter, nails digging into his skin. Kyle's sobs slowly dwindled to small, uneven exhales. The silence stretching apart from the small, pathetic sobbing noises.

And then, there was a distant crunch,

Kyle tensed.

Another crunch, closer this time. It was slow, steady, hesitant footsteps pressing into the half-frozen snow.

Kyle squeezed his eyes shut. He knew that rhythm. He'd known it since they were eight years old.

"...Kyle?"

Kyle flinches at Stan's quiet voice. It sounded raw, like he had been crying too. He dared not speak, knowing it was his fault Stan sounded so heartbroken.

Kyle dared not move or breath, afraid to show an ounce of vulnerability once more and break down in front of Stan.

But then Stan takes another step, and Kyle hears himself audibly take a breath as he feels the warm presence behind him and a faint rustle of clothing.

Kyle blinks, and finally lifts his head.

Stan had draped the red varsity left in the snow over his back. Snow dusting his hair, beanie clenched in his other hand. He looked like a cold, wet mess, and yet it felt like a warm bubble around the once lonely, old bench.

Kyle could feel his brain rewire itself. The snowflakes that had settled on Stan's messy, dark, black hair and those ocean blue eyes that still shimmered when Stan looked Kyle's way sent jolts up his spine. He doesn't want to feel like this, he doesn't deserve to feel like this.

But despite it all, Kyle was unable to push Stan away again.

Stan takes a seat besides Kyle, eyeing the jacket wrapped around his frame like it was something fragile, something important. Waiting for Kyle's reaction to the fabric being forced upon him once more.

Stan didn't say anything at first, allowing them to sit in silence and giving Kyle the time to reject the jacket and push him away once more. But Kyle didn't, so Stan stayed. He could see the confusion and hesitation in Kyle's body language. The way his leg bounced against his chest and shook the bench slightly, and the way he hesitantly clutched the hem of the jacket.

But that very jacket felt heavy around Kyle. It was warmer than it had any right to be after lying in the snow. Kyle's fingers twitch, instinctively wanting to pull it taut around him and soak in the comfort he swore he didn't deserve.

He didn't.
He didn't deserve any of this.

Kyle hunched further into himself, the jacket hugging him tightly despite how small he tries to make himself, hugging him close as if it was Stan himself refusing to let Kyle sink into his endless void of self-hatred.

Stan swallowed thickly. Once, then twice. His throat bobbed like he was fighting back everything at once: the anger, hurt, love, longing, maybe all of it mixed into some horrible, beautiful mess that was the love he had for the boy beside him.

"You're freezing," Stan finally murmured.

Kyle felt something twist painfully in his chest.

He didn't deserve Stan's warmth.
He didn't deserve Stan's love.
He didn't deserve Stan.

"I-" Kyle's voice cracks instantly and he clamps his mouth shut. No, he couldn't fall apart again. Not in front of Stan. The tears he has cried will never amount to the pain he had caused.

Stan frowns at Kyle's hesitation, seeing Kyle's nails scratching his arms deeply.

Stan tries again as he shifts closer, "Do you still hate me?"

Kyle stared at the frozen pond, at the ice. Anything that wasn't Stan. He wanted to ignore how much closer Stan had gotten, and how much he yearned to lean close and collapse into his chest and cry.

"I-" Kyle's words form a knot in his throat, but he forces himself to speak through the pain, "I didn't mean- I didn't..."

Stan exhaled slowly. It wasn't angry, just a little wounded.

"I know you didn't," Stan gently takes Kyle's hand in his to stop himself from scratching, "It hurts, but I know you don't mean it."

Kyle's breath hitches and he feels the jacket slip off his shoulder. Without even being given a chance to react to the cold, Stan moves to fix it.

Stan could hear Kyle's breathing shift and he immediately pulls both hands back, "Sorry- sorry. I just- I didn't want it to fall off again."

Kyle inhales deeply.

"Wh- Why'd you bring it?" Kyle whispers so softly the wind could have carried it away, "You... you could've just left it."

Stan blinks at him. Like- really blinks. Like Kyle had just spoken in a different language.

"Kyle, it's yours."

Kyle shook his head fiercely, eyes burning once more, "No, it's yours. You never took it back from me after I cleaned it. I didn’t mean to steal it from you."

Stan stared at him hard. And then he said simply:

"You didn't ‘steal’ it."

Stan pauses, taking Kyle's hand in his once more.

"I gave it to you."

Kyle's breathing stutters as Stan's grip tightens, fiddling with his beanie in his other hand, "And I'm not taking it back. Not unless you want me to."

Kyle's head drops, curls falling into his eyes. His breathing comes out in tiny, uneven hiccups, "I- I don't..." Kyle whispers, but the rest of his words melt on his tongue.

Stan brushes the back of Kyle's hand with his thumb, "I was so scared, Kyle," Stan says softly, "Scared that you hated me for kissing you, scared that you really believed that it meant nothing when it meant everything to me."

Kyle squeezes his eyes shut, the guilt throbbing so painfully he almost doubles over.

"I- I didn't mean- I- "I know, you didn't, Kyle."

Kyle's voice comes out raspy as he chokes back on his tears, "I- I just... I was- I didn't want you to see me like that again."

"Like what?" Stan asks, voice dropping down, "Like you're hurting? Like you're human?"

Kyle shook his head, frustration bubbling inside him, "Like someone who ruins everything he touches."

Stan's hand tightens around his. A firm, grounding grip that finally brings Kyle out of the caged wall he had built around himself.

"Someone that pushes their best friend away without giving him a chance. Someone that turns away a person that's hurting. Someone that... that shouldn't be loved by someone like you."

Kyle wipes the tears with his sleeve, and he could already feel Stan's frown without even glancing at him.

"You don't ruin anything," Stan said. Not angry, not defensive. Just honest and steady, "And you didn't ruin us."

Kyle didn't trust himself to look Stan in the eye, feeling his body tense up when each word coming out of his best friends mouth makes something crack inside of him.

"And for the record," Stan adds gently, "I don't want you running away the second things get scary. I want you here. With me."

Kyle swallowed a sob. He feels Stan pull their hands apart and wrap a strong arm across his shoulder instead. And this time, Kyle doesn't flinch away from his touch. There was no hesitation now. No fear, no puking, and no dancing around in circles. Just Stan being Stan; quiet, patient, sweet, and impossibly warm, even with the snow falling around them.

"I'm not giving up on us because of one awful moment," Stan said quietly, "I'm not giving up on you."

Kyle's face crumples as the words slam down on him. It was too earnest, too hopeful, and above all, undeserving. His eyes overflow with tears once again as he curls against himself and cries. 

Stan gently pulls Kyle a little closer to show his silent support. He wasn't going anywhere.

"Kyle," Stan sets his beanie aside and gently rests his free hand under Kyle's chin, "-please, look at me."

Kyle hesitates, but he allows Stan's hand to guide his face up to meet Stan's firm gaze.

The tears in Kyle's eyes softens Stan almost instantly, and he smiles when he sees the red curls dusted in snow fall over Kyle's face, wiping the tear stained cheeks to take a good look at the freckled face he loved so much.

"There you are."

Kyle's lower lip trembled. He never once dared to look Stan in the eye for longer than a second, afraid of the feelings buried deep down. Imagining all the ways he gets hurt from a made up scenario that hasn't even happened. Not when Stan was looking at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

Kyle didn't move, so Stan spoke again, "I don't care how scared you are. I don't care how many times you think you messed up. I did too, and we've always gotten through it, together. I'll always be here, and I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me to leave."

Kyle lets himself cry once more, allowing Stan to see the tears tracking down his cheeks.

"I don't-" Kyle chokes and squeezes his eyes shut, "I don't want you to leave."

Kyle feels Stan's thumb rub his cheek once again and feels him vibrate an affirmative hum.

"Good, cause I wasn't planning on it."

So Kyle continues to cry. And Stan just lets him.

A moment passes, allowing Kyle some time to calm his breathing and cry out all the tears he had left.

"Open your eyes, Kyle. I want to see you."

Kyle feels his body hesitates, but he flutters his eyes open anyway and is met with Stan's giddy, lovestruck smile he had slowly grown use to over the week.

He looked so fucking stupid, but it only made Kyle feel even more guilty for everything he had done to someone as simple and sweet as his best friend.

And for Stan? Well, he wasn't going to hold back any longer. Not when he and Kyle were so close.

"Please, no running away from me this time, ok?"

Kyle nods.

Now it was Stan's turn to feel himself clam up a little and hesitate. But if he had learned anything over these past 2 weeks, it's that he has to let it all out before he cracks. Even if Kyle still ends up pushing him away.

"I'm... sorry that it took me so long, Kyle. And I'm sorry for being so stubborn after all these years, pretending like my feelings for you never existed. But the truth is, that I can't see myself without you. I know it's cheesy, but you're the only one who has managed to capture my whole heart. Even after seven years of denial, I've only yearned for you more."

Stan caresses Kyle's cheek and runs his other hand through Kyle's ginger curls, "There's no word in the dictionary to describe what I'm feeling for you. The truth just is: I love you."

'I love you'

It was so simple, yet so powerful.

Even if Stan had come to the realization a while ago, it didn't feel real until this very moment as the three little words slip out of his mouth. He could sing any song, read any poem, look up every synonym to express himself, but those words carried more weight in gold than anything else Stan could come up with if it meant admitting it to himself and to Kyle.

"...stan," Kyle whispers, and he could feel himself wanting to cry once more.

Stan doesn't rush him. Allowing Kyle the chance to digest everything.

"Why- why would you say that... to me?"

Stan's brow lifts, not out of confusion, but from how his heart ached at the question.

"Because it's true. Because I've been denying myself of the beauty that is loving you for so long. Because losing you hurt way more than anything else in the world."

Kyle's lips quiver and he breaks once more, allowing Stan to pull him onto his lap and hug him tight.

Stan doesn't try to lean for a comforting kiss no matter how much his body desperately wanted to do it. Despite the pretty white snow and the sun setting in the water before them, none of this had to be perfect or a fairytale. It just had to be real, tears and all.

"You don't have to say it back," Stan rubs Kyle's back, "You don't have to do anything. I just needed you to know. You deserved to hear it."

Kyle buries his face into Stan's shoulder, soaking the old brown cloth that was Stan’s own jacket and crumpling a handful of it with his fist, like he was afraid Stan would slip away the first chance he gets.

"You're so stupid," Kyle says in a hushed tone, "It's not- it's not fair that you get to say all that and then just- just sit there looking at me like that."

Stan laughed under his breath, struggling to hold back his own emotions but still letting a tear slip by as he pulls Kyle back to look at him.

"Like what?"

Kyle forces his eyes to open, and sees that same look Stan was wearing once again, staring at him like he was the sun. Like Stan had never seen something so precious before and he was soaking in every last detail of him.

"Like- Like I matter," Kyle pulls his lips back to try and hold back the tremble of his body, "Like I'm someone you could love."

Stan smiles and shakes his head, brushing the curls away from Kyle's face, gentle as snowfall.

"You are," Stan says firmly, "I already do."

Kyle lets Stan pull him back into his embrace. He doesn't try to kiss Stan or give him an answer. He wasn't ready—not yet. But he leans against his best friend, allowing his silent actions to speak louder when Stan rests his chin on top of Kyle's head.

"Hey," Stan rubs Kyle's shoulder, "We're ok. We're gonna be ok."

"Stay?"

Stan's embrace tightens.

"I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

The water gently sways as the snowfall begins to still. The two boys sit in silent comfort, keeping each other warm with their feelings now finally in the open.

And for the first time in days—maybe years, they didn't need to hide anymore.

Chapter Text

Kyle wanted to sleep so bad. But no, some asshole decided it would be funny to throw pebbles at his window for the past two minutes. At midnight.

He reluctantly rolls out of bed like a disgruntled cryptid, and stumbles to the window. The second he shoved it open, a strong gust of cold air punched him in the face

"Who the fuck-?!" Kyle started, leaning out.

And then he freezes.

Down below, standing in the snow like it was no big deal, was Stan. Smiling like a kid on christmas. He had a pebble in hand, already cocked back and ready to launch another one.

Kyle's irritation slowly tangles with confusion, and annoyed affection.

Because behind Stan was an entire romantic set up. Fairy lights hung from two janky, makeshift poles stuck in the snow. Footprints formed a lopsided but unmistakable heart around him. And Stan himself stood right in the center, holding a guitar.

Kyle knew this was gonna be the world's dumbest—and cringiest (heart-melting) midnight serenade.

Stan tosses the pebble away and his grin widens when he locks eyes with his best friend, “Kyle~!”

Kyle brings an embarrassed hand to his face, but he can't help the blush that rises up his cheeks from Stan's romantic dedication, "Stan? What- what are you doing... again?"

Stan readies the guitar, "I have a song prepared for you!"

Kyle drags his hand over his face, "Stan, it's midnight. My mom is gonna hear you and probably ban me from seeing you ever again," Kyle snickers.

Stan smile brightens even more, it was brighter than the blanket of white snow that covered the lawn, "I'll sing quietly! Romantic whispered-serenade. It's very juliet-balcony-scene coded."

Kyle rolls his eyes but the smile sneaks its way through despite his fake-annoyance, "I'm gonna jump."

"Then I'll catch you~!"

"You're fucking cringe, dude."

Stan strummed one bright, eager chord that echoed embarrassingly loud across the quiet neighborhood.

Kyle flinched and looks back nervously in case he hears his mother wake up and come bursting into his room screaming, "Stan!"

Stan cringes at how loud his guitar was, "Ok ok! Softer, got it!" Then he clears his throat, looks up at Kyle with starry-eyed sincerity, and begins to play something soft and awkwardly sweet.

Kyle hovered by the window, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying—and failing miserably— not to smile.

"I've been working on this all day but... I made this version in ten minutes so... I hope you still like it."

Stan sung, voice low and warm, the melody clumsy but heartfelt:

"I wanna blow your mind
With the words I'm tryna find
So that I can sing you my song
For there's not enough things I can say
To express how my heart beats for you

Stan hesitantly looks up at Kyle to check if he was still listening

Kyle pretended to look unimpressed, but he wasn't even close. It's like he's not even trying.

Stan continues, fingers almost slipping off the strings from how sweaty his hand was.

In every life, you’re the one I’d choose
And I hope that you'd the same for me too
I would travel the to the ends of the world to find you
So much so I would fight a... baboon?

I'd love to wake up to your face every morning
And give you a kiss goodnight
I wanna sweep you off your feet
And show the world my love for you
Without puking on your shoes

Kyle's hand slipped from his face, blush deepening, "Stan stop- "Nope~!" Stan shakes his head while strumming the lightly-practiced instrumental, "I practiced way too hard just to stop now. You're suffering through all of it."

Kyle groaned, but he leaned on his arms on the sill and listened anyway. Eyes softening despite the deep embarrassment as Stan plays his final lines.

Your face lights up my darkest of days
You make me feel some type of way
You can call me dramatic, but I just gotta say,
That even as I stand here, halfway frozen in the snow
You'll always be worth the wait."

Kyle rolls his eyes and smiles softly.

Stan lowers the guitar, his nerves spiking now that the moment has ended, "Soo... thoughts? Feelings? Rotten tomatoes you wanna throw? Maybe you finally wanna file that restraining order?"

Kyle swallows his feelings away and once again fails, "You're so stupid."

Stan raises a brow, "In a good way?"

Kyle sighs, cheeks burning, "Yeah. In a stupid good way."

Stan's grin could've powered all the fairy lights on its own. He was practically vibrating with joy at Kyle's answer, physically incapable of standing still from happiness—until he pauses mid-happy dance, remembering something important.

"Oh! Wait- hold on! There's still Phase Two of Operation: Romancing you!"

Kyle looks instantly alarmed and grips the window sill and leans his torso out the window now too, "Stan? Stanley Marsh! What the hell is 'Phase Two'?!"

Stan carefully sets his guitar down in the snow, jogs off behind a tree for a moment, and then re-emerges dragging... something.

No.

It's not just something.

Kyle's eyes widen, "Stan- is that a fucking... No absolutely not, I swear to God, Stan?!"

It's official, this is the stupidest thing Stan was gonna do. And that's saying something.

The idiot had the bright idea to bring a whole fucking ladder.

"Shhh shh shh," Stan whispers loudly as he presses a finger to his lips while struggling to get the ladder up against the wall of the house without whacking himself in the face, "Romeo needs to ascend to his dearly beloved."

"Stan, you're going to die- "I'd die for you anyway so it's basically the same thing," Stan says as he preps the ladder and grins when he finally anchors it properly into the snow.

"The snow is wet slush, Stan! It's not gonna- for fucks sake, at least wear a helmet before you start climbing! Or better yet, just come through the front door!"

"This is more romantic, dude, now shush!" Stan grips the side and feels the regret settle in his stomach and his dinner in his throat.

Yeap, this was a terrible idea.

"Ok- ok," Stan takes a deep breath and begins his horribly planned ascent, "If this falls, please, remember me fondly and tell the kids I love them."

"You're so fucking dramatic, dude," Kyle scoffs while gripping the top of the ladder tight, "But seriously, you're gonna fall, Stan. Just- Stan! For fucks sake-"

Stan had already made it almost halfway up the ladder before Kyle could talk some sense into the idiot. Kyle mutters curses under his breath, worried eyes glued onto Stan when the ladder trembled a little under his weight.

But finally, finally, after a few heart attack-inducing seconds, Stan makes it to the top of the ladder and meets Kyle at eye-level, wearing the same stupid, lovesick grin on his face.

Snowflakes clung to his hair, and his breaths shows in soft puffs. His cheeks were red from both the cold and- well... Kyle.

"Ta... Ta da," Stan says breathlessly, "Does Romeo get a reward for his efforts?"

Kyle tries hard to sound annoyed and shakes his head with a smile, "Not if Romeo was trying to give me a heart attack too."

Stan laughs, wobbling slightly on top of the ladder, and gripping onto the window ledge tightly, "Ha-...," Stan gives Kyle's worried, pouting expression a nervous smile, "It's all a part of romance."

"Shut up, Stan. You might actually fall," Kyle grips onto Stan's sleeves tightly.

"I won't," He says semi-confidently, glancing at the snow down below and feeling his knees go weak.

The ladder immediately shifts a millimeter at Stan's movements, and Kyle's soul leaves his body, "STAN-"

Stan grabs onto Kyle's hand and somehow manages to stabilize the ladder and now keeps a firmer grip on the window sill, "I'm fine! I'm- whoo... I'm fine."

Kyle's heart was pounding so fast, and Stan underreacting to almost dying was grinding his gears a little and he begins lightly smacking Stan's arm, "You idiot! You are never doing this again, you hear me?!"

Stan's lips curve into a tiny smile, barely wincing at Kyle's futile attempts to hurt him, "Ok- ok. Ow-! Only if you give me my reward now."

Kyle wants to deny him so bad. Watch his cute face fall as he begs with the puppy eyes he had reluctantly grown used to. Part of him wanted to tease Stan, but the disgustingly cute serenade and his terrifying romantic ladder climb had melted his heart just enough that he can't bring himself to outright say no.

"... You're so stupid."

Stan beams, "That wasn't a no~!"

Kyle lets out an irritated huff, but he leans forward anyway, holding Stan by the arms tightly. He feels his stomach flutter when he feels Stan's warmth radiating off of him.

Stan freezes up immediately as his eyes lock on to Kyle's before it shuts immediately. Stan feels himself frown when he can no longer see those beautiful emerald greens.

Then his breath catches.

Kyle presses a quick, soft kiss onto Stan's cheek.

And Stan just ascends to cloud nine.

Stan's face floods with the color red, his grin turning dopey and full of awe.

Kyle watches Stan's reaction for a second, ready to dart and leave Stan up to fate if he fell, just to avoid being splattered on, if Stan was about to do what Kyle thinks he's about to do.

"Please don't puke again, dude."

Stan makes a strangled noise and he looked like he was either going to cry, combust, immediately faint off the ladder, or all three.

"I'm- I'm fine," Stan's voice comes out shaking, "Totally fine, like... zero percent puke."

Kyle narrows his eyes, not believing him for a second, "Stan."

"Ok ok- maybe like... five percent," Stan shrugs and pushes himself up one more step to be able to lean closer to Kyle, "But I just wanted to get close to you."

Kyle immediately presses his palm against Stan's dumb face, blushing furiously, "You're so disgustingly cheesy."

Stan shivers a little from the cold and chokes back on... something, "M-Mind letting me in? Unless you'd like a-," Stan holds back his throat from throwing itself out of his body, "-frozen barfcicle decorating your lawn," Stan looks down once more and feels the vertigo kick in, "And possibly my corpse if I don't get off this ladder soon.

Kyle snickers and takes a firm grip of Stan's hand in his, helping to pull him into his room, and watching the snow that dusted Stan's pajamas and jacket melt onto the floor.

"Dude, my carpet! You're gonna track dirt. At least remove your boots before getting on my bed," Kyle grimaces and flops onto his bed, grabbing the remote and turning on the tv to put something on. Might as well since he probably won't be able to sleep after someone woke him up.

Stan discards his boots by Kyle's door and tosses his jacket by the floor before joining Kyle on the bed. He gets comfy by leaning against the headrest, stealing one of Kyle's blankets, and of course, pulling Kyle up against him like a teddy bear and wrapping the both of them up like a burrito.

"Hey- Stan!" 

But Stan didn't seem to care. He just nuzzles his cold nose against Kyle's curly, fluff of hair and sighing in contentment as he takes in the mixed scent of pomegranate and lotus.

"Dude! Your face is freezing, get off!" Kyle grumbles, squirming a little.

"That's why I'm using you to warm up," Stan mumbles into the soft ginger hair, squeezing Kyle even tighter, "I wanna stay here forever."

Kyle eventually submitted to his fate and lets Stan do whatever, continuing to look through different streaming services as they settle into the blankets, putting on a random movie that caught his attention. The room glows in a soft blue light, but neither one of them were fully focused on the TV in front of them as they sit on the bed.

For a little while, neither of them speak.

Kyle wanted to question Stan for his sudden appearance, but then again, over the last few months of their last semester since the two started growing close again, Stan had made it a habit to come over to Kyle's in the middle of the night throughout the week to chat and play games. 

The romantic serenade tonight was new, but Kyle didn't seem too surprised. Stan had been trying to get them to explore their feelings further, but he could see Kyle's fears and hesitations and had been incredibly patient and understanding. Afterall, it took Stan years to finally reciprocate, while Kyle was still not very forgiving to himself for causing Stan all that emotional turmoil despite Stan's insistence that it was ok.

Then Stan shifts a little, "Stop thinking, man. I can smell your brain exploding."

How did he-

Stan buries his nose against Kyle's neck, causing the ginger to gasp in surprise and flush red, "Talk to me, Kyle."

Kyle's heart rate quickens, "I..." Kyle wants to hesitate, the deepest parts of him wanting to run like he always did to avoid getting hurt, "I just, it's nothing."

"I know it's not 'nothing', Kyle. Don't push me away."

Kyle wants to just rot away right now. But Stan was right. If the two of them want their relationship to evolve, they needed to talk, "I just... I don't know. I-...I still feel guilty for everything. For... pushing you away that night. For ignoring you for so long and..."

The kiss.

That's the one thing Kyle was still too afraid to confront. It's clear now that it meant a lot to Stan, and it was more than just him suddenly becoming a good actor. Kyle so badly wanted to tell Stan everything that he had been bottling up himself.

"The kiss?" Stan asks, receiving a small nod. Stan smiles softly as he raises his head to look down at Kyle. Kyle's eyes were glued on to the TV, but his expression clearly shows he was more absorbed in his own head rather than the moving pixels on the screen.

"I told you, Kyle. I understand why you're still hesitant about... everything," Stan starts, rubbing Kyle's arm soothingly, "I wanted to show you how much I loved you today, just cause. There's no rhyme or reason for what I did."

Stan could see the confusion and self-blame etched in Kyle's face, and hugs him tighter closer to his chest, "The kiss was the same. The moment you gave me permission to do it, I used it to my full advantage. I know you still need time to sort out your feelings, but I'll be here."

Kyle frowns. It wasn't that, and he'd been too afraid to tell Stan the truth. And he still is. 

Yet, Stan still stayed. Stan always will.

"I'm not expecting an answer right now, but I just want you to communicate with me on what you're thinking so that we can figure it out together. No more suffering alone, alright? We suffer together. That's what best friends are for."

Yeah... best friends.

They both want to be more, that part is clear. All Kyle had to do was overcome his silliness and tell Stan those three little words back.

Simple, right?

Well... not really.

But Stan understood. And for now, they were both ok with where they were. Continuing to dance that line between friendship and romance, except that they now are more heightenly aware of each other's feelings, mainly of Stan's feelings, and openly flirt with each other while also not dating-

Ask one of their friends if they're ok, because they all deserve a medal for putting up with this crap for when Stan and Kyle finally get their act together and make it official.

"I want you to be able to forgive yourself, Kyle. Ok? That's all I'm asking of you right now. So stop overthinking for once," Stan lets Kyle pull away for a moment to give him some space and flicks his temple, earning an unamused glare from Kyle.

Oh how it makes Stan go weak in the knees. Good thing he's sitting down.

"Bitch," Kyle mutters under his breath and pinches Stan's arm in turn before settling back against Stan's chest.

The two enjoy another comfortable silence while watching the movie play on, Kyle switching to something else halfway through the movie after getting bored.

He could feel Stan fidget behind him every now and again. Even how Stan’s heartbeat would thrum against Kyle’s back every time Kyle laughed at something. He could even feel how Stan's fingers nervously pulls on the fabric of Kyle's shirt with every paused breath. It seems that the raven haired still had something else that went unsaid and Kyle frowns. 

"Ok," Kyle pauses the movie and turns around slightly, "Speaking of 'not suffering in silence', you clearly have something else to say too. So spit it out."

Stan freezes mid-breath, caught red-handed, "What- I..."

"Stan."

"Ok ok! Look, it's nothing that serious ok. I'm just... I'm still working up to it."

Kyle raises a brow, "Uh huh? What, is there a Phase Three now too? Are you about to hang from my ceiling from a web for a Spiderman kiss? Candlelit doordash in my bedroom? Or you want me to put on a horror movie and watch you pretend to be brave and then start pussy-ing after every scene so that you can start choking me again."

"I'm not a fucking pussy!"

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Stan, just spit it out."

Stan pouts and fidgets with one of Kyle's curls, "I... I promise it's not anything that dramatic. I just..."

Stan hesitates and he swore he saw Kyle's eyebrow twitch, "OK, yes! I'll- I'll get to the point," Stan composes himself with a deep breath, "So... you know how the championships are tomorrow?"

Kyle stiffens a little.

"Oh."

That's what Stan's entire operation was leading up to.

This… fucking, adorable ass idiot.

Stan doesn't seem to notice Kyle's reaction as he rushed over stumbled words, "I was just- you know... hoping you'd be there. I do have an extra ticket saved just for you, and I know it's a little late but it would mean a lot to me especially since we usually never make it past the Regional Finals- "Stan?"

But Stan doesn't hear Kyle, "-and you being there has made me a better player. I- I don't know why but just... I would love for you to be there. But of course there's no pressure at all to go at all. I know you're probably bored after watching me practice all the time and I get it but we never make it this far and since we're up against the best school in our division we might even lose-"

"Stan," Kyle laughs softly as he cups his hand over Stan's mouth.

Stan immediately shuts his mouth when the two lock eyes, "I already got my ticket. Front row."

Stan's face is flushed, eyes wide and shiny as he very slowly lets his brain process Kyle's words after overwhelming and hyping himself up to ask Kyle to come to his game.

Kyle laughs again and lightly slaps Stan's cheeks to snap him out of it, "You really wanted me there, huh?"

Stan nod was slow but immediate, "Yeah. I mean- yeah. You're kind of like my good luck charm." Stan rubs the nape of his neck.

Kyle's stomach flips and he feels himself just wanting to melt into Stan's embrace in that moment, or better yet, pull Stan into a tight hug and pepper his dumb fucking face with kisses. But he'd never admit it out loud.

Stan has no idea what he does to Kyle... or maybe he does, and revels in watching Kyle squirm. Fucking sadist.

"You're a fucking sap, dude," Kyle quickly looks away because if he keeps staring at Stan's sparkly, lovesick eyes, he will spontaneously combust.

"And you make me want to vomit," Kyle gives Stan a look and he was quick to realize what he said could be read in the completely wrong way tries and recover himself, "In a good way! Why did you think I kept puking whenever I looked at you after we finally started talking again?"

"Yeah yeah, I know," Kyle lies on his side against Stan once more, pressing play on the remote and pulling the blanket taut over his body while keeping his eyes glued onto the TV screen.

Stan could feel his heart soar when Kyle leans his head back down against his chest. You know how when you see a cute cat that seems to hate everyone else, but it comes up to you and begins purring, and you get cuteness aggression? That was Stan right now as he runs his hand through Kyle's hair while holding back tears of joy.

He's unable to help himself from practically squeezing Kyle against him and rubbing his cheek against the soft ginger locks.

"Stan?"

But he was silent. Kyle was a little worried after a moment passed and Stan still didn't reply and opens his mouth to speak again.

"I love you, Kyle."

Kyle's words fall silent and his body goes rigid.

Kyle was use to Stan being more expressive with his feelings now that he had come out and say it. It's not that Stan doesn't know Kyle doesn't love him back, but it's a matter of when the other was ready to allow himself to be in love.

Stan's hand pauses, tangled in Kyle's curls, "Sorry," Stan whispered-laughs, "Was it bad timing?"

"No- no. It's just- I wasn't expecting it," Kyle swallows hard.

Stan shrugs as his lips twitch into a soft smile, “Sorry. I guess it's just... being close to you… I couldn’t help it.”

Kyle wants to backflip off a cliff.

“Too much?” Stan asks nervously, feeling himself wanting to shrink away from Kyle.

”No, no. Don’t take it back,” Kyle gently takes Stan’s hand in his and thumbs the back of it gently.

Stan’s mouth was left hanging, but he nods, grasping Kyle’s hand in return. Kyle relishes in that physical affirmation, while he struggles to find the words and not just leave Stan hanging. He can't keep doing this forever.

“I know what you’re saying, Stan,” Kyle whispers as he curls back into Stan's chest, hiding his burning face in his shirt, “I’m just… not ready.”

"That's ok," Stan smiles at the feeling of Kyle's warm body against his, "You already know, and I've said this a thousand times."

Stan tilts Kyle's head just enough for their eyes to connect, "I didn't say that I loved you because I wanted something from you."

Stan's smile only grows when he sees Kyle clutch the fabric of Stan's shirt in his fist a little tighter, "Everything that I said today, I said it because it's true. I just wanted you to know, and remind you that there's someone here that loves you."

Kyle feels... not overwhelmed, but overwhelmed. The feeling was present, but not debilitating. Despite dealing with Stan's romantic affections for months now, it was still something Kyle had not fully adjusted to just yet.

He wanted to reciprocate so badly. Yet every muscle in his body freezes up whenever he tries to open his mouth, and the words are lost.

So Kyle does what he does best; using his actions to show what he can't bring himself to say just yet.

Stan can't help pressing a quick soft kiss against Kyle's hair when he feels Kyle hide his face once again, "Dude, you're making it way too hard to not say it again."

A muffled 'Fuck you' comes from Stan's shirt.

Stan breaks into laughter softly, tipping his head back against the headboard while his fingers continue to card through Kyle’s curls like it was second nature.

”Y’know,” Stan whispers after a moment, “tomorrow?”

Kyle hums, vibrating against Stan’s shirt.

”I’m gonna win. We’re finally gonna take the championships home,” Stan says affirmatively. It wasn’t cocky, but certain, “Because now I know you're watching me."

Kyle bites his lip. He wants to stop Stan before he speaks any further, but his body refuses to cooperate.

"I'm gonna play my ass off, probably scare the shit out of my coach, maybe get another concussion, and I'm gonna do my best."

It's almost too much. Kyle wanted to scream for him to stop. But there's a deeper part of him that knows that pushing away is no longer an option. It can't be. Not anymore.

"You were the motivation I needed to actually try," Stan's voice drops to something soft and shaky, "Because I want you to be proud of me."

Kyle's brain stops fighting itself. Allowing his body to look up at Stan, and met with the nervous gaze of his best friend.

The once sad, pathetic, unmotivated boy had grown so much since the last time Kyle remembered Stan.

"You idiot."

Stan had grown so much in the last few months. As the two grew close again, Kyle could see how hard the other worked in not just football, but in class, in his relationships with everyone else. Stan was not the same Stan from when they were ten. He was happier.

Kyle can't help the hand that reaches up to rest against Stan's cheek, "You already make me proud."

Stan's eyes light up in surprise as a hand reaches up to cover Kyle's, "Then," Stan whispers and closes his eyes, "I'll just do it again tomorrow. I'll do it, and I'll win."

Stan opens his eyes again just in time to see Kyle crack a smile and chuckle, "You said these guys are like... the best in our district."

"Tomato tomata. We'll win, get that trophy while the crowd goes crazy, and you'll run up to me and...," Stan shrugs and a cheeky grin begins to form, "...maybe finally give me a kiss aga- "In your dreams, dude," Kyle blushes furiously as he pushes Stan's face away again.

Fuck this guy.

Stan gives Kyle the puppy eyes and pretends to paw at Kyle's arm like a dog, "Please? On here!" Stan points to his lips.

Kyle scrunches his nose up, pretending to be disgusted by Stan's begging and the idea of kissing him. But the feeling of Stan's lips when Stan pulled him close for the first one they shared began to tickle Kyle's own.

"Fine, one kiss."

Stan pumps his arms in celebration and whispers a celebratory 'yes', "Fuck yeah, dude! I'm gonna win! For the kiss, and to make you proud!"

Kyle smiles and shakes his head, "No trophy can make me prouder of you than I am already, Stan. I don't want you to get so worked up over it tomorrow. You've already come so far."

Stan pouts, "I'll show you! I'm not gonna get worked up," Stan smirks as he rolls his shoulders back and tilts his chin up, "I'm gonna strut onto that field that scare the pants off those fucking pussies."

If you were to describe Stan with any animal, it would be a chicken. Because right now, he was sitting in a corner of the locker room, rocking himself while muttering. All his confidence from the day before immediately went down the drain the moment the he stepped into the stadium.

It suddenly felt all too real that they actually made it this far this time.

The stadium was way too loud for just a high school football game. Even from the locker room, Stan could hear the distant roar of the crowd and his dad possibly beating up a parent from the opposing team. It was too much.

The chatter of his teammates, the echo of cleats on the tunnel floor, the blaring music from the speakers, laughter—expectations.

He hated it. He hated it all.

South Park High had never made it this far in years.

And yet here Stan was, sitting in the locker room, just waiting for the clock to tick down until he's forced to play for the final time.

Stan presses his forehead to his knees and groaned, "I'm gonna throw up," He mutters.

"Already?" Clyde's voice sounded closer than Stan expected, "Man, Kyle hasn't even given you the winning kiss yet."

Stan had to stop himself before his brain dared to picture it, "I'm serious. I think my body is turning into mush."

A shadow fell over him, followed by a soft thud as someone places their helmet down on the bench and crouches in front of Stan. He lifts his head just enough to see Tolkien looking at him.

"You good?" Tolkien asks, neutral but concerned.

"... no," Stan mumbles, "I think this is the worst I've ever felt before a game. I might actually be dying."

Clyde snorts and drops down beside Stan, nudging his knee with his own, "You said the same thing before the semis. And before the regionals. And before literally every game this season."

"Yeah, well," Stan gestures vaguely, "We've never made it this far. And this one actually matters."

Tolkien tilts his head, "But you never cared before. Well, not until Kyle came into the picture. The fact that we've made it this far is proof of how far we've come, especially you."

Stan opens his mouth to argue, then snaps it shut.

Yeah. Ok. Fair point.

Stan grumbles under his breath and hides his face back in his knees, "Great, so everyone clocked that, huh?"

Clyde grins unapologetically, "Dude, you play better when you're trying to impress your not-boyfriend. Apart from the one time you got concussed from staring at him too much. Try not to do that later."

"I don't- he's not-" Stan stops himself and exhales sharply, "You know what, whatever. I'm down bad for Kyle. Ha ha. Laugh it up."

Tolkien huffs a quiet laugh, "Dude, you're only freaking out because this matters to you now. That's not a bad thing."

"It feels like a bad thing," Stan fiddles with the fabric of his pants, "Feels like if I screw this up, I'm gonna lose him again."

Tolkien rolls his eyes and grips Stan's shoulder tightly, "Stan. We all know damn well Kyle doesn't show up for football games. Ever."

Stan lets out a shaky breath.

"But he showed up for every game this season for you," Tolkien continues, "Win or lose."

Clyde glances between the two, "But we're gonna win, right?" Tolkien smacks Clyde lightly for him to shut up and earns a small and pathetic 'ow'.

Stan snorts weakly.

"Don't put so much pressure on yourself. You've already improved so much throughout this season. All you needed was just a little push to unlock your true potential. And now? You've been playing like your hungry to win."

Clyde finishes pouting over his boo boo and smirks, "Or hungry for that jew dick."

Stan punches Clyde on the arm and earns another yelp, "OW! Ok ok sorry, I forget that you're an ass man."

Stan gets onto his feet and drags Clyde up by the shirt. The smug face on their linebacker is replaced with fear as Stan draws his arm back with a fist at the ready.

"Clyde, I swear on everything good in this world I will beat the shit- "Enough! Let's not fight each other before our final game." Tolkien pushes the two away from each other and Clyde drops to the floor, crawling away like a terrified animal.

Tolkien plants himself in between the two, "Stan," He says firmly, "Sit," Tolkien points to the bench.

Stan still felt the blood boiling, but he doesn't argue and drops onto the bench with his elbows on his knees and the helmet dangling on his fingers.

Clyde lets out a relieved exhale, as Tolkien takes a seat next to the distressed quarterback, "Look, man. You don't gotta win the whole game by yourself. All of us are playing the same game together. That's kinda the whole point of a team."

Stan swallows and nods once, staring at the scuffed floor and bouncing his leg nervously.

"Yeah, I- I know."

"Then stop with this mentality. Whatever it is, both of you have already passed that. One fuck up from either of you isn't going to ruin everything, and you know that. And this game is not any different."

Tolkien gives Stan's shoulder one more firm squeeze and gets up on his feet, clapping his hands together to get Clyde's attention as well, "Come on, helmets on."

That's when the locker room door swings open.

The coach strides in and the chatter of the locker room dies instantly, private conversations of different groups from the team all drop in an instant and the team comes together the moment the coach takes his stance in the middle of the room.

"Alright," Coach says, folding his arms and scans the room, "Circle up, boys."

Benches scrape and the sound of cleats shuffle about the room. Stan rises on autopilot and pulls his helmet close, the nerves in his body were still unwilling to cooperate and he couldn't bring himself to put the helmet on as he stands around the back of the loose huddle.

This is it. After this, there's no more hiding in the corner of the locker room. No more pretending that he's not terrified about what's going to happen or if he's going to lose the game. Pretend that he didn't care anymore or that his feelings don't exist. That if losing this game meant that he was going to lose Kyle again-

...

The lines have blurred. And Stan was afraid of every misstep he took.

He couldn't tell the difference anymore, and it terrified him the most.

There was a reason he was so careful and understanding around Kyle. Of course, it was out of consideration and genuine understanding, but there's still that little bit of fear that the moment he does something wrong, Kyle would push him away again.

God he felt terrible for thinking that way, and he knew Kyle was better than that now. He knows he is. He just hopes Kyle can think that way for himself too.

The coach clears his throat, "I'm not gonna give you some movie speech, tell you this is probably gonna be the biggest game of your lives, or that this is your one shot at greatness."

Stan feels a lump in his throat. Oh god, this is it. He's gonna throw up, and for once this whole semester, it wasn't because of Kyle.

...maybe.

"Because you already know that," The coach continues, "And you don't need me adding more weight to your shoulders."

The coach pauses as he looks over the nervous looks on the boys faces. Of course there was a lot riding on this game. 

Everyone in South Park was surprised to hear that their little high school football team actually made it to the championships. To—any championship to be honest. The whole town was in a buzz the moment the news broke out, and the excitement did not wear down for even a moment. It only grew.

But the person most nervous was the one hiding by the back of the team. The quarterback that use to never care, that never tried. 

Stan looked like he was going to shit himself.

"What you boys do need to know," Their coach finally continues and points towards the wall—towards the tunnel, the field, the noise, "-Is that nobody expected any of you to be here."

A few heads lift.

"Nobody," He repeats, "Nobody expected anything past the ordinary. For South Park High to make it anywhere past the regionals. Hell, they didn't expect you to take the win as easily as you guys did this season!"

Stan fiddles with the helmet in his hands and felt his stomach churning the only food he managed to eat that entire day. Nobody expected them to make it this far. Hell, he didn't expect to make it this far.

"But you did," Coach says simply, "Not because of luck, or because the other teams were 'having a bad day'. You made it here today because you played smart. You put in the effort, and you tried. The team out there may think that this might be an easy win. But we're gonna show them why they should be scared."

The coach locks eyes on Stan, "Trust your quarterback. Trust your line, and play the next down like it's the only one that matters- because it is."

Stan wanted to keel over right that second. He felt his brain running wild, the nerves spiking like sharp needles inside his body. 

But the coach straightens his back, wearing a confident smile.

"What I want to see out there is a solid four quarters. I want to see heart, discipline, and teamwork. Whatever that scoreboard says at the end, I want all of you to walk off that field knowing you earned it."

The music begins to play in the distance, and their coach steps out to hold the door open, "Now let's go meet the other team."

Helmets could be heard clicking into place, pads getting adjusted, and the slap of slapped shoulders and encouraging chatter. 

But Stan was stuck in place as everyone files out of the room.

The excited cheers of the crowd could be heard as the doors officially open, and the noise hits him like a wave.

What if he loses? What if he disappoints everyone? What if Tolkien was wrong? What if Kyle hates him again after this? What if what if what if what if-

"Marsh."

Stan snaps out of his head. His coach must have noticed his rapid breathing and beady eyes. Sweat already building on his forehead when it shouldn't.

"Make us proud. That's all I'm asking for."

Proud.

Stan hesitantly, but finally, follows the team toward the tunnel.

The small stadium erupts as the South Park football team step onto the turf. The loud cheering of Randy Marsh could be heard and Stan wanted to go up there and fight the old man himself. There was also booing from the other side of the bleachers (It's a fucking high school game? These are kids they’re booing at), and it took every ounce of strength in Stan's body to not make a beeline for the safety of the locker room.

The lights felt way too hot as Stan finally stepped into it, and the turf looked like a blob of green.

Fuck, he's not gonna make it.

"Stan," A voice calls out to him softly.

Stan looks up, and standing right by the railings of the bleachers was; "Kyle..." Stan says softly, awestruck by the appearance of his best friend wearing the same outfit he usually did. Except this time Kyle was finally letting his curls breath from the confines of that stupid green hat. And of course...

It was just like that night at the hospital all over again.

Stan jogs up to the bleachers and looks up at Kyle with a big grin, "Dude, are you trying to get me to vomit again?"

Kyle adjusts the red varsity over his frame and leans over the railing smirking, "What? It's mine, isn't it? You said it yourself that you gave it to me. I have free reign to wear it whenever the hell I want."

"Just because you cleaned it well doesn't mean you have to wear it all the time. It's seen things," Stan chuckles, "Like mud. And sweat. And emotional breakdowns."

Kyle smirks, "Wow. Just like its owner."

The two share a laugh when the cheers grow louder as the opposing team slowly joins South Park on the turf as well.

Stan noticeably tenses up and Kyle looks down at Stan with a frown, "Dude, you gotta relax."

Stan laughs nervously, "What d'ya mean? I'm totally fine."

Kyle groans softly, "Tolkien wasn't kidding when he said you were losing your shit back there. You look like a wet cat." 

"A cute wet cat?"

"A pathetic one," Kyle deadpans, but the softness in his eyes gives him away.

Stan snorts, then winces hard when the referee's whistle screeches over the speakers. He exhales sharply as the opposing school lines up across the field. Big. Clean. Confident. Their helmets gleam under the light as they stand straight with their shoulders squared like they've done this a hundred times before.

Kyle catches the shift in Stan's stance, watching him slowly curl inwards on himself.

"Hey," Kyle says quietly, wishing he could reach down and hug the poor boy from beating himself up even further, "Look at me."

Stan licks his dry, chapped lips nervously and takes a deep breath before looking up.

"The game hasn't even started and you're already thinking of the worse possible outcomes. It's just like you said: I'm not leaving you because of one awful moment or some random fuck up. We'll get through things—together."

Stan swallows.

"Yeah," he says, nodding once, "I- I know."

The ref calls the whole team to the line.

Stan backs away from the bleachers and fixes his mouthguard and helmet on, jogging towards the middle of the field. But not before giving one last glance back over his shoulder, watching Kyle grip the red fabric over his heart.

God how he so badly wanted to kiss that beautiful freckled face.

SOUTH PARK COWS VS SUMMIT PEAK LIONS

Green and purple meet in the middle as the Captain of both teams stand facing each other with the ref standing between them. Stan fidgets nervously, though he tries not to show it.

The coin is tossed, and hearts begin beating rapidly.

South Park gets to choose. All eyes land on Stan and he nods affirmatively, choosing to receive first.

And the kickoffs begin.

Stan's hand shakes when he settles behind the center.

"WOOO! NUMBER FOUR, LETS GO! MAKE DADDY PROUD!"

Stan moves to try and pinch the bridge of his nose through his helmet when he hears Randy screaming, and possibly taking off his shirt and waving it around while mocking the parents on the opposing side.

Stan tries to settle his heart, drowning the noise of the crowd out and focusing on the sound of his breath in his helmet.

But he was barely given the chance to when the whistle blows, and he yells on instinct,

FIRST HALF: FIRST QUARTER

South Park Cows - Offensive Receiving

"HIKE!"

The cows take the kickoff strong, and Stan takes the snap clean. Muscle memory takes over and he makes his play. Getting the ball over to the wide receiver when he had to. The Lions defense were strong, though. It left Stan making safe, passes with barely any gain. The first of the fourth down forced a rush throw, so Stan had to settle for a field goal.

South Park 3 — Summit Peak 0

It was a good start. Stan exhales through his mouth guard as the field resets and he's back in his first position.

"GET EM, STAN!" Kyle screams from the bleachers, jumping up and down like crazy while their friends laugh and cheer from their seats.

Stan could feel his heart soar.

Stan's hands were steady when the ball hits them. He makes a good few smart plays and works with his team to try and make the first touchdown of the championships. But South Park was still playing it safe. Maybe all the talk about Summit Peak and how good they were was getting to their head.

But no one was wrong about that, because the Lions were that good.

Summit Peak seemed pretty reserved in their tactic, but Stan knew better. They were learning, and then they were going to adapt to South Parks game, and beat them in the second half.

For now though, Stan had to hike up their points and get them in a comfortable position.

Stan bites down a cuss when he narrowly misses an oncoming body and scrambles as he gets the ball and dives down, barely crossing the line.

Touchdown, South Park.

But as they go for the extra point, the nerves were truly starting to settle in as he hears his dad hyping the crowd to start chanting his name louder than before.

"MARSH! MARSH! MARSH! MARSH!"

His body was trembling at the sounds and eyes on him.

Fuck, he fucked the field kick.

South Park 9 — Summit Peak 0

It was good for now. He still had a little more time before the first quarter ends.

Stan begins another slew of two surprisingly good back-to-back completions. Everyone in the crowd was on the edge of their seats. Stan wanted to allow the pride to swell in his chest as everyone cheers louder than the opposing team's crowd did. He knew everyone was thinking the same thing: Where the hell was all these plays before?!

But no matter how good Stan was, the Lions were better. Summit Peak was quick to adapt, shutting every attempt to get to a touchdown and everyone can only watch as Stan panics and the hope dwindles out of him.

Stan takes a hit mid-throw, and the passing sail was incomplete.

Kyle visibly puts his head in his hands. But then he rises from his seats and leans against the railing, gesturing at Stan.

"COME ON, STAN! FUCK EM UP!" 

If Stan wasn't so distraught and lost in self-blame, he would be laughing at how into the game Kyle was getting.

The Cows use their first down to make a field goal before their time is up.

It sails and lands them 3 more points.

Stan huffs and stares at the scoreboard when the whistle blows, signaling the end of the first quarter before reluctantly returning to the sidelines.

South Park 12 — Summit Peak 0

Now it's the Lions turn.

FIRST HALF: SECOND QUARTER

South Park Cows - Defensive Position

Tolkien barrels through like an athlete on steroids and nearly sacks the Lion's QB. However, their quarterback was smart and was quick to analyze their tactics and makes a clean break. They were still playing safe for their first offensive play.

A field goal is kicked.

South Park 12 — Summit Peak 3

The Lions adjust themselves, and this was when they really started to shine and show South Park why they are considered the best. A long pass tears through South Park's secondary. Clyde barely misses the tackle but Tolkien comes in with the save. Slamming the runner before the Lions can make another big gain.

It didn't matter though, because the ball was already in the air.

Their QB makes the mad dash for it.

Touchdown, Lions.
Field goal, Lions.

South Park 12 — Summit Peak 10

They were catching up, and they were catching up fast. Stan swallows hard

The final drive of the quarter was close, and the Lions offensive team were moving fast. A deep past nearly seals it, but everyone watches Tolkien knock the receiver flat and forces the ball loose.

Stan's eyes were trained on their Quarterback. Every play was carefully calculated, and he was quick to put his next planned move into action. He carried himself with so much confidence.

And that made Stan feel like he was so many miles away from even being on par with him.

Another field goal was kicked when the halftime hits.

South Park 12 — Summit Peak 13

One point.

They were off by one point.

Stan bends forward with his hands in his knees, chest heaving. He couldn't sit the entire game, and because of that, he felt like he was going to collapse onto the floor.

Stan stares at the scoreboard and it glares back at him.

One point.

One fucking point!

Stan rips his helmet off and spits his mouthguard out. Reluctantly following his team back towards the lockers. He could hear the excited cheers and intense discussions of the crowd, mainly talking about his plays. Hell, even the parents of Summit Peak were talking about him.

"Good plays, boys. We'll get em in the second half," The coach claps as the team walk through the tunnel with their heads held high.

Well except for one.

Fuck, Stan feels like he's going to explode.

Stan collapses onto the bench, helmet resting by his side, and stares at the floor as if it could somehow tell him where he went wrong. One point. That's all they were behind by. One single, stupid, agonizing point. And yet it felt like a chasm.

The locker room was a chaotic mess of sweat, ice packs, and clattering cleats. Stan could barely hear his teammates excitedly chatter, and barely felt some of the firm slaps on his back.

Everyone failed to notice his lack of reaction.

How could they all be so happy and excited already when they were down by a point?! Because of him! All because of him. It's his fault. It's all his fault. It's always been his fault.

It's his fault they're gonna lose. It's his fault he missed the extra point. It's his fault he didn't try hard enough for so long. It's his fault he's going to lose Kyle. It's his fault that he drank that night and stumbled through Kyle's door crying over a girl that he didn't even love-

"Don't give yourself so much credit, Stan."

Kyle was standing just a few feet away, watching the defeated quarterback slumped over himself while everyone else was celebrating around him.

Stan glances up and Kyle could feel his heart crack in two. The desperation and hopelessness in Stan's eyes are almost painful—like he's carrying the weight of the entire school, the whole game, and somehow Kyle's approval and his worthiness of his best friend, too.

"How- how did you- "Stan, did you really think I wouldn't know?"

Stan bites his lip back. Kyle really did know him well, and fuck was he right. Kyle saw right through Stan's cycle of self-blame, and he's able to break through that fragile glass with a soft look on his face, "I fucked up," His voice comes out cracking, "I missed the extra point. I should've- I should've done better. I- fuck!"

Stan was about to spiral again and Kyle immediately takes a seat next to him, wrapping an arm around his best friend, "One point, Kyle," Stan's voice breaks, "We're behind by one point. One. Fucking. Point."

Kyle sighs and pulls Stan to sit up straight, "Look at me, dude."

Stan's gaze darts up frantically, like he's expecting a lecture or something, "Stan, you're already doing amazing. You're playing your heart out like I've never seen before. Fuck dude, from what I'm hearing about the other school? You guys are playing better than good. You're neck and neck with them, Stan!"

Stan's voice was tight when he finally finds his voice, "I- I can't just play 'ok', Kyle. I need- I need to play better, smarter, harder. I need to be good, I need to. I can't be the old me again, I have to make everyone- everyone's expecting- I-"

Kyle cuts him off by leaning closer and pushing Stan's head down to face him, "Stan, enough. No one's expecting you to play any better than you already are. You're playing the best you can. Stop beating yourself up over this."

Stan feels himself scratching his face like he was breaking out in hives, "But I can be better! I fucked up so bad out there! There's something wrong, and I gotta- I have to"

"STAN!" Kyle screams, pulling both of Stan's arms against him, "Stop. Just, stop. Stop this cycle of blaming yourself for shit beyond your control."

Kyle looks down at the rough, trembling hands in his, "You're only human," Kyle pulls Stan's hand to rest above Kyle's chest, feeling the soft, constant heartbeat of his own, thrumming inside, "Just like me."

Stan's breathing goes through him with resistance, "Stan. You and I have a lot we have gone through, and a lot more to overcome. You and I aren't perfect. But you and I are a team. I'm also scared of losing you. The 'What if's of me pushing you away again and me fucking it up for good. But you've said it yourself that we'll work through it together, always. If you want me to forgive myself for what I did and stop trying to run when things don't go the way I hope, you have to stop blaming yourself for everything that does goes wrong and think of the worse case scenarios."

Kyle's voice softens at the end, "You have to believe me when I tell you this, just like I believe you. You're not carrying everything alone anymore. Not the game. Not the past. And not whatever happens between you and me."

I...

I can't.

"I can't... do it. What if-... if I relapse and get drunk again? Wh-... What if I scare you away?" Stan whispers, "What if I lose this game, and I lose you?"

Kyle blinks and smiles, "Stan. I did not come back into your life just to leave you again because of a football game," Kyle takes the hand that he pressed against his chest and holds it tight in his, "You're not gonna relapse, and you're not gonna scare me away. You have to play this game because you want this. Not for me, and not for anyone. So please, do it for you."

Kyle squeezes Stan's hand, "I don't want you to play to prove something," Kyle adds, "You're here today because you love the game again. Because you finally let yourself care about something without having to live in fear of it. And when that Stan finally shines through? He's terrifyingly good."

A weak laugh breaks out of Stan despite himself, "You're biased, dude."

"Yeah," Kyle admits, "And?"

A breathy snort escapes Stan's lips and he shrugs, "I guess you're right. Maybe the overthinking has gotten to me."

Kyle flicks Stan's cheek softly, "And that's my thing, dude. We can't have the both of our brains going haywire."

A small 'ow' could be heard, "Eh. You've rubbed off on me I guess."

"I can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

Stan manages to form a small smile, "I'd say it's a good thing."

The coach's whistle cuts through the room, earning a few whispered disgruntled less-than-ideal words from Kyle, "Five minutes, boys! Get your heads on straight!"

"Sometimes I wish I could shove that whistle down his throat," Stan mutters out of the blue.

Kyle snorts softly, the tension easing just a fraction more, "Stan- don't say that!"

Stan huffs a weak breath, shoulders finally dropping an inch. He wipes his face with a clean hand towel nearby, taking some of his sweat and stress with it. The tightness in his chest is still there, still screaming, but it's quieter now. It's... Manageable.

The two sit quietly despite the noise around them, Stan taking a sip of water to quench the thirst and allow himself the few minutes to breath once more.

"Kyle?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm... I'm gonna win. For me."

Kyle smiles, "I know."

And just like that, five minutes was over. The band's music concludes and the cheerleaders begin their routine and hype up the crowds chants once more.

All the boys get ready once more for the final half of the game, the final game of the season, the final game of their high school careers.

Eh, they're teenagers. They have a thing for the theatrics.

"You know," Stan starts as he gets ready to follow the rest of his team out to the turf once more, "I could use a powerup. Maybe it would help."

Kyle arches a brow, "Oh no. Last time you said that you chugged ten monsters, made two touchdowns before passing out on the ground surrounded by your own vomit."

Stan shrugs, "Not that kind," Stan says quietly, "I mean... you know."

Kyle smiles, biting back a full on smirk. Of course he knows.

Stan steps closer, nervous, "Just- you know. A little one. For luck?"

Kyle hesitates to give in, not because of fear, but because it's absolutely hilarious watching Stan try his best to get what he wants while dodging the actual words itself.

"You're such an idiot," Kyle reaches out and grabs the front of Stan's jersey, tugging him close.

Stan stumbles on his feet and is barely given time to register it before Kyle presses his softer lips to Stan's cheeks.

Warmer.

It was definitely warmer than it was last night.

"There," Kyle pulls away gently as his face is colored slightly, "Powerup."

Stan's brain short-circuits entirely. And for once that whole day, the world was silent and peaceful.

When he finally snaps out of his daydream, Stan's eyes were wide and lit up, that same unmistakable lovesick grin graced his face once more.

"I'm so beating you in Mario Kart again."

Kyle scoffs, "You're such a fucking weirdo, dude."

Stan grins as he finally secures his helmet firmly in his arm. His posture was different now. He was steadier, grounded, determined. There was still that lingering fear in his eyes and smile, but he was ready despite it all.

Another deep, and steady breath was taken in. The faint scent of pomegranate and lotus fills his senses once more, and he feels his body relax when he takes in the smell of the person he loved so much.

Kyle gives Stan a firm punch on the shoulder, "Now go get that point back."

"Fuck yeah, dude. I'm getting it back."

Stan puts on his mouthguard and helmet for the last time.

He's going to do this

I will do this.
For me.

He turns on his heel and runs back out onto the turf with his team. Heart pounding, not as wracked by nerves this time, but with purpose.

SECOND HALF: THIRD QUARTER

South Park 12 — Summit Peak 13

South Park Cows - Defensive Position

The kick sails high and deep, and Summit Peak brings it out clean. Their confidence is obvious now. Even with a lead that close, they seemed to be in their heads that they have secured their win.

And so far, it seemed that they were right.

Having tested South Park's defense, they find an opening with a quick slant over the middle and gain a good solid yards. Their quarterback was lightning fast, ten times better than Stan ever was, and boy does it whittle down the confidence Stan had just gotten from his momentary high.

The surprising MVP for the defense team though, was Clyde. The dude locked in for the opening drive, blowing through a line and forcing a hurried throw. The ball sails just a little too high, just grazing the fingertips of the receiver.

But there's still the field kick, and it arches beautifully, earning the Lions another 3 points and putting them further in the lead.

Stan watches from the sidelines, jaw clenched. The pressure was back on with now a 4 point lead.

South Park 12 — Summit Peak 16

The kickoff barely had time to bounce before Summit Peak scoops it up and barrels forward. They were playing aggressively this time. There was no more testing and messing around with South Park anymore. They want to burn the clock and bleed South Park dry.

Stan could only watch helplessly from the sidelines, pacing back and forth with his eyes trained on whoever has the ball. 

Summit Peak's QB was no joke. Running down the yards and playing their defense team like it was a day in the park.

"STAN, drink your damn water!" Kyle yells at him.

South Park's quarterback flinches and reluctantly trots back over to the bench and takes a sip from his bottle, feeling the cold refresh go down his throat like it was golden liquid.

Stan takes a breath and smiles softly at the ginger above, "Thanks, dude."

"Don't dude me! Calm yourself and get us back on top the moment you're back out there, you hear me?!" Kyle hits the railing, and Stan laughs. 

It's so fucking cute how into it he is.

When Stan turns around, though, he can only watch in horror as the Lions switch tempos and catch South Park mid-shift.

The ball snaps fast. Too fast. Tolkien barely clips the runner's ankles as he stumbles, but stays upright, right in the red zone.

Another play. Then another. The QB fakes a handoff before firing a clean pass. No matter how hard the Cow's defense team played, the offense played twice as hard. With a hard run straight through the middle;

Touchdown, Lions.
Field goal, Lions.

They made their extra point.

South Park 12 — Summit Peak 23

The Lions had one goal left: kill the clock. With short gains and safe calls, they felt way too comfortable on the field now and making South Park burn timeouts.

But the defense digs deep.

Tolkien explodes through the line on the second down, making up for their major loss when the Lions got their touchdown and forces the Lions back. Clyde backs him up by batting down a pass at the line.

Now... now everyone sees it.

South Park had saved their energy for this moment.

The QB scrambles, but the Cows swarm him and he's forced to throw their attempt during their third down, away.

The punt team is now in by the time the first quarter ends anyway. 

Everyone was on their feet.

SWITCH: FINAL QUARTER

South Park Cows – Offensive Receiving

South Park 12 — Summit Peak 23

Stan exhales shakily, pacing in small circles. That gap was massive— scratch that. Insurmountable! Especially for a team as unreputable as South Park. Stan watches Summit Peak's offense jog off the field like it's already over. Slapping hands together like it was another practice day even if they were bested.

"Come on, Marsh! Get on that damn field! You still have time!"

The cow's coach's voice snaps Stan from the staring he was doing. He still had to lock in.

Now it was South Parks time to turn the heat up.

Stan takes the field, feeling like the screams of everyone around him was squeezing him down. But his hands were steadier than they were just ten minutes ago. The roar of the cheers fades into background noises as he flexes his fingers once, twice. The lingering warmth of Kyle's touch and his gentle heartbeat under his fingers soothes Stan just a little bit more.

"SOUTH PARK, SOUTH PARK, SOUTH PARK!"

"HIKE!"

Stan keeps his eyes up. With short passes and controlled runs, he's able to analyze their next plays well instead of rushing. Summit Peak adjusts way too fast.

With the Lions closing in, Stan had to make a decision fast to keep up the score and put the pressure on the opposing team.

They settle for the field goal.

South Park 15 — Summit Peak 23

Come on, Stan. Focus.

South Park was desperate—and desperation was dangerous. Stan has to play it safe despite the urge to hero-ball his way into a mistake. 

But the Cows knew what they were doing. Be cool for now. If they rush, the team will see their desperation and do whatever it takes to watch the timer tick down and eat up the rest of their final quarter.

When they were stalled just outside the red zone, they go for the field kick.

South Park 18 — Summit Peak 23

All eyes are on Stan to make just one touchdown to get them the win.

It's just 6 points.

No pressure.

No pressure at all.

Stan steps back into first position for what could be the last drive of his life. He takes one look back, but not at the scoreboards.

He knows the numbers. He's been replaying this moment in his head the whole night. He doesn't need to see them again.

Instead, he lifts his gaze to the bleachers.

Kyle was on his feet, ripping the railing so hard his knuckles have gone paler than he already was, mouth moving like he's yelling either insults or encouragements. Probably both since he seemed to also be wrestling with Kenny for the best view of the field.

Something in Stan's chest loosens when the two look at each other.

'Not for me.' Kyle said.
'For yourself.'

The crowd quietens down for one final time. Stan watches the ball, and it snaps.

He runs fast with each down bleeding into the next. Bodies colliding, cleats tearing up the turf, and air burning in his lungs. Stan takes a hit on their third down, but he doesn't let it deter him.

The clock is still moving, and he has to keep running.

It's the 4th down, he has to make the touchdown, NOW!

The blood was pumping through his arteries and veins, and his lungs felt like it was on fire with every breath he took. But he runs. For once in his life, he never wanted something more for himself than he wanted now.

He wanted to be proud of who he was now. And if that meant he had to run through volcanic ash in order to win this championship, he would.

So Stan kept running. Even when pockets closed and purple jerseys surged in at him. Stan tucks the ball and runs on instinct right towards the finish line.

It was the last and final down. Someone grabs his jersey. Another hits his shoulder. Pain shoots up his arm like lighting and he feels his body wanting to double down in pain.

But Stan pushes forward, even after his legs burned and his eyes blur with tears from the pain in his chest.

In his peripheral vision, Stan could see the blur of purple coming right at him.

He wants this win. He wants this so bad.

He squeezes his eyes shut as he lowers his shoulders and drives forward.

The hit comes hard, stealing his breath while allowing the momentum to carry him through just as the timer screams and the whistle is blown.

The stadium erupts.

Stan hits the ground and doesn't move for a second. Chest heaving and ears ringing.  Then, hands were on him. His teammates were shouting, dragging him up onto his feet.

South Park 24 — Summit Peak 23

"MARSH MAKES THE TOUCHDOWN! SOUTH PARK WINS THE STATE CHAMPIONSHIPS!"

A voice screams through the speakers from somewhere as shiny confetti explodes everywhere like crazy. But Stan didn't care about whos or whats in the moment, soaking in their victory for the first time while trying to control his rapid breathing from the surprise and pain.

One point.

One fucking point.

But it's theirs.

Tolkien was the first to help Stan out of his helmet and help hoist their quarterback onto his and Clyde's shoulders.

"YOU FUCKING DID IT, MAN!"

Stan barely registers it all. His hearing was still fuzzy and the world finally slowed down to its regular pace after what seemed to have been a tornado. He blinks hard to try and ground himself (However grounded he can be), and the first thing he does before any trophy and celebration, is to look for Kyle again.

The bleachers were in chaos.

People were screaming, jumping, dogpiling onto each other. Randy had thrown his shirt at one of the parents on the other side and...

Nevermind. Stan didn't want to look at his dad for long.

Finally, Stan spots Kyle and that unmistakable smile. Leaned halfway over the railing, eyes wide and glassy, and locked entirely on Stan even with all the popcorn and drinks spilling everywhere.

The two stare at each other longingly.

Then Kyle laughs. The same way Kyle always would when Stan would throw up after longingly and hopelessly staring at him before they reconnected. But it was fuller this time, happier. Kyle shakes his head and mouths something Stan can't hear.

I told you.

Stan finally smiles as everything dawns on him, staring at the love of his life. The team takes it as a sign to put Stan down. As the moment his cleats hit the turf, Kyle is already running. He barrels down the steps, cuts around a cluster of cheerleaders, and ignores security that tries to stop him.

"HEY KID- YOU CAN'T-"

Kyle didn't care as he makes a break onto the field just as Stan finally escapes the crowd of cheering teammates.

Even with the pain shooting up his legs and arm, Stan limps closer and closer, finally seeing the image of Kyle clear itself as he runs towards him.

"KYLE-" Stan yells when Kyle leaps forward, wrapping his arms around his best friend's neck and forcing Stan to spin them around to stabilize himself, wrapping his arms around Kyle's waist.

Stan wasn't even given a chance to say anything when Kyle grabs his face and pulls him in to smash their lips together.

...

Kyle's... kissing him. He's actually kissing him.

It wasn't careful or hesitant. It wasn't like the first kiss they shared. It wasn't under the watchful and teasing gaze of their friends with a camera shoved in their face- actually no, that part is still happening.

If anything, it was everything they've been circling around for months- no, years! It was sweet, knowing, fearless. Whatever tiptoeing they were doing is forgotten the moment their lips touched, the electric spark blowing a fuse so that nothing else matters except for the weight of the boy Stan loves most in his arms.

Stan almost forgets the ache in his legs, the bruises, the burns in his lungs. He barely manages to keep them upright and support Kyle's weight. Reluctantly, he pulls them both from the kiss to set Kyle down properly on the grass.

Teary eyes look at each other, swelling with pride. Stan leans his face against the hand cupping his cheek. Kyle's eyes were still wet, lashes clumped from tears and sweat. His curls stick to his temples in messy, adorable spirals. His cheeks are flushed from part adrenaline, part emotion, part Kyle. Just Kyle. And somehow, he looks both wrecked and impossibly soft at the same time.

Stan takes him in like he hasn't seen him in years, soaking in the face that looks back at him, swelling with so much pride. 

The faint freckles across Kyle's nose draws Stan in first. It always has. Dotted lightly across his reddened cheeks, they look even more vivid under the harsh LED's. Stan's throat goes dry as his gaze wanders down to the curve of Kyle's lips, stained pink and kiss-bruised, trembling slightly like he's fighting a smile or another wave of tears.

Kyle looked like he was sculpted from every memory Stan ever loved, forming his greatest masterpiece which was the love he held for the man in front of him.

And God, he's never looked so beautiful. No need for fancy suits or freshly shampooed hair. The messy curls and tear-glossed eyes is enough to knock every last ounce of air out of Stan's lungs.

"I love you, Kyle Broflovski," Stan whispers with certainty, "With all my heart."

Kyle's grin is bright and watery. He tries to open his mouth to reply, but he still hesitates. Just a little bit.

It didn't matter though, "I know, Kyle," Stan kisses Kyle on the nose, "I know."

If only God could freeze them in this moment forever.

"Fucking finally."

The couple turns their heads and spots Kenny not too far away with a camera in hand and fanning something in the other. A wide smirk painted his face, "Dealing with your bullshit for years has taken some off of mine. You both owe me a little extra of what Cartman gave you from that dumbass film."

"KENNY!" Kyle screams, "DID YOU JUST- "Document your first official kiss as a couple? Yes. I gotta make a copy and frame it on my wall as my biggest achievement yet."

Stan rolls his eyes as Kenny hands him the polaroid, "Your biggest achievement?" Stan snorts.

The two glance down at the freshly developed photo. Compared to their dramatic on-screen kiss, this one felt softer—and painfully sweet. With the night sky behind them and confetti drifting through the air, the whole thing looked ridiculously sentimental in a way that made both their stomachs twist.

"I feel like I stepped out of one of those dumb high school romance movies like... 'The Kissing Booth' or whatever." Stan shivers and hands Kyle the picture to safekeep it.

"We're allowed one cliché romantic moment after how long it took us," Kyle carefully slots the picture into his wallet and pockets it, "I think I kept my boyfriend waiting long enough, isn't that right?" Kyle grins as he rests his arms around Stan's neck once more.

Boyfriend.

Oh how he loved the sound of that.

"Too long."

"Don't you think we deserve a 'thank you' for putting up with all your denying?" More of their friends join up behind Kenny. Wendy specifically staring at the two after speaking with her arms crossed.

Stan purses his lips inward and looks up at some random confetti that had suddenly managed to become a new point of interest for him.

Kyle laughs and thumbs Stan's cheek to get his attention, "Dude, what's she talking about."

"Nothing. Nothing at all," Stan pecks Kyle's temple and narrows his eyes at Wendy.

"Yeah, sure it's nothing except for the fact that Kenny and I have been doing the most we can to help you out and get you to accept your feelings."

"WHAT ABOUT ME?! I GOT THEM TOGETHER!"

Cartman screams from the distance, the Cow head of the mascot laying on the ground and sweat beading down his fat head.

"Shut the fuck up, Cartman!" Kyle screams back at him.

Cartman waddles closer, ignoring their friends that were desperately trying to keep Cartman away lest Kyle beats him up, "I deserve a medal for playing cupid!"

"You literally did nothing except almost ruin everything we were building up to. So fuck off," Stan scoffs.

"Come on you fatass," Kenny drags Cartman by the ear towards the sidelines while Cartman was yelling something about him being a 'stupid beggar' and 'winning a bet'.

Kyle takes in a deep breath and turns to look back at Stan, brushing his fingers through Stan's hair. The lack of Cartman's screeching brings a little bit of peace back once more.

"You're so sweaty, dude."

"And? I don't see you pushing me away."

Kyle leans close once again, twirling a few strands of black hair with his finger, "I didn't say I wanted to."

The two share another kiss, earning a few 'aws' from some of Stan's teammates and Butters, who does earn a quick kiss from Kenny once he returns back to the group.

Stan's hand wanders down and squeezes something plump. And that's when Kyle pulls away after letting out an indignant yelp.

"Marsh," Kyle says dangerously low and Stan felt something grow a little tighter.

"Yes, Kyle~?"

"Gross," Wendy snickers, her and Kenny giving each other a high-five without so much as a glance at each other.

Clyde pipes up from the sidelines, dragging the team's coach along with the trophy, "Dude! Can we get a group photo with the new power couple already before they realize that they have the free will to make out whenever."

"I could make good money off of that," Kenny teases, "Someone owes me anyway."

Stan inhales and narrows his eyes, "Kenny."

"Oh, get in the photo, loverboy!" Kyle drags Stan towards the centre of the huddle.

With the team behind Stan, trophy forced in his hand, all his friends beside him, and Kyle's hand securely in his. Stan finally lets himself breath again. Despite the pain in his legs and shoulder nagging at him, it's drowned out by the euphoria of the moment. The championships, confetti, cheering, and Kyle. Standing beside him and grinning like the sun itself.

The team eventually breaks into smaller groups after the photo, congratulating each other in passing as little by little, everyone slowly heads towards the locker room to wash up. But Stan still stayed, not willing to leave the turf behind him and mark the end of his time at South Park High.

And Kyle stayed with him. Even with how disgusting the sweat was and the greasy hair and sticky skin, Kyle was there, holding Stan up on his feet.

"Some game, huh?"

Stan's body straightens as his head perks up to the sound of the unfamiliar voice. Cranking his head slightly, a slightly taller male in a new, clean purple jersey walks up to him.

"Marsh, right?" The other extends his hand.

Stan takes it and nods, "Yeah. You?"

"Olive. I'm the Lions quarterback," Olive flashes a smile.

Oh...

"That was some game, man. I didn't expect any of that at all."

Stan's eyes widen in pleasant surprise as they both pull their hands back, "Eh. We were still working twice as hard just to keep up with you guys."

Olive cackles a little, "Yeah, by a point. You know how hard that is? No offense, but you guys didn't exactly make it hard to underestimate given your reputation. None of us expected that it was going to be that close, and to lose our winning streak. We were working twice as hard by the end of it all."

Stan flashes a knowing grin and nods, "None taken. I know how we were," Then he looks down at Kyle who was just leaning against him with an arm wrapped around his waist silently, "But now I know I have someone in my corner to motivate me to be better."

"Cringe, dude," Kyle gives Stan's arm a very light punch.

"Ow!" Stan grins, "I'm sorry that I'm such a sap, Kyle."

"That's good to have someone like that," Olive laughs at the two's interaction, "Anyway, you still gonna be playing once you graduate?"

Stan keeps his eyes on Kyle, a hand playing with the loose curls hanging by Kyle's neck, "I'm heading to UCLA with him. But my main focus will still be on my major. You?"

"USC. Trojans," Olive smirks, "Bruins, huh? Guess I'll be seeing you on the field again."

Stan nods, "I look forward to it."

The two quarterbacks give each other a firm handshake and Olive slaps firm but gentle on Stan's shoulder, "I'll come more prepared next time now that I know who I'm really up against. I know UCLA is going to need you."

Stan feels his face heat up in embarrassment and he can't help the eye roll, "I'm not that good, dude. I still think I'm gonna fall over from working my body to its limit while you're still standing like you went for a light jog."

"Maybe I'm just better at hiding it."

"Hah. That's what I get for needing to use an inhaler."

Olive snickers and looks over at Kyle, "Well, I see another reason you might need it tonight."

Stan and Kyle's face begin to burn brighter and Olive hollers out in laughter, "Take care you two."

The two blink at each other as they watch Olive jog off back to his locker room.

Stan fiddles with the edge of the helmet between his fingers, quickly peaking over at Kyle for a few seconds to watch his reaction. He rocks back and forth on his heel, "So... are we- "Stan."

"Guess that's a no for now. Can we put a pin in it at least?" Stan laughs.

"Go wash up! You're disgusting!" Kyle pushes Stan away in the direction of the locker rooms in genuine mock disgust. Stan stumbles a little but catches himself, laughing.

"Ok, ok! I'll go. But just one more thing," Stan pecks Kyle on the lips, "I miss you already~!"

Kyle blushes furiously and flips Stan the finger, "Fuck off, dude."

"I LOVE YOU~!"

Kyle watches Stan run off to the lockers, the words settling in his heart slowly, sprinkled in with guilt. He wanted to yell it back...

He really did.

Somehow, amidst the chaos of showers and pizza planning, Stan and Kyle finds themselves back on the field of the empty stadium. The moon was full tonight, reflecting its cool light down on the dim field save for the main stadium lights. In the middle of the turf, the two teens sat, staring up at the stars in the sky.

Stan had his legs sprawled out, his hands supporting him upright while Kyle sat in between, leaning his back against his Super Best (Boy)Friend.

Boyfriend...

Kyle's brain was still a mess. Calling Stan his boyfriend was something he never thought would happen in his wildest dreams. For so long, he suppressed those feelings and accepted his fate. And yet here he was...

Doubt creeps back in like a fog. Does he really deserve someone like Stan? Afterall, a boyfriend was someone that showers their partner with affection and says 'I love you's', right? It came so easy to Stan. So why was it... still so hard for Kyle to say it?

"I can smell your brain burning itself again. What is it?" Stan moves his hands to wrap around Kyle's chest from behind.

Kyle sighs, placing a hand over the other's rough one, "Just...thinking."

"About what?"

Kyle shrugs, "I dunno. Everything?"

Stan looks down at Kyle, watching his unfocused expression breath through his complicated thoughts, "What's everything?"

"I guess it's just... how to show you that I'm serious about us, I guess?

Stan gently buries his face in the mop of red, voluminous curls, "We are more than just three stupid words, dude. Just because you struggle to say 'I love you' doesn't mean you don't."

Kyle rubs his thumb over the veins of Stan's hand, "I still want to, though."

"Then, I won't rush you."

Kyle lets the quiet stretch.

The distant noise outside the stadium felt muted despite the excited yelling and cheers still going on. Like the world finally decided the two deserved a few minutes of peace after so long. The stadium lights hummed softly overhead, and somewhere, confetti still clung stubbornly to the turf.

Stan felt Kyle shift against him, the tension in his shoulders easing as Kyle moves to sit up higher against Stan's shoulder instead.

Neither spoke. They didn't need to.

Kyle tilts his head back slightly to look up at his boyfriend. With the amount of ogling Stan does at him, Kyle hadn't taken the time to give Stan a good look over too. They've really grown up, and Kyle has seen the positive changes in Stan's personality and motivation. But that doesn't mean he didn't clean up good too.

Stan doesn't notice Kyle studying him at first. He's staring at the field, eyes soft and unfocused, as if trying to memorize it all before it's gone. But Kyle watches him. Like, really watches him. In a way he hasn't allowed himself to do before.

His gaze traces the curve of Stan's jaw, the faint purple bruise near his cheekbone. Faded acne scars on sun-kissed skin standing out more under the moonlight. The water from the shower had flattened his hair out a bit, but they've dried into that familiar, chaotic mess Kyle always pretends not to like. The kind of tousled mess that begs for fingers to tug at.

And his eyes- God, Kyle had always loved Stan's eyes. Doe-eyed, pretty, blue and warm in the way winter skies never were. Right now, they were tired but bright, shimmering even with the hype of the crowd taken far away from where they were. There was this glint in his eye. Something that made Kyle feel like he could trust that gaze with anything.

He glances lower. The faint cut on Stan's lip from the game, the red mark across his nose from the helmet. Little imperfections that somehow made him more handsome.

Kyle has always found Stan attractive in a boyish, soft-edged way. Not like how other people would typically describe it: the regular tall and stronger build with a good face to accompany it. Kyle already knew all that (even though Stan isn't that tall no matter how he insist that he is). But there was something different about him that had Kyle's heart beating faster than he'd like.

Stan had grown more confident, his posture was straighter. Eyes no longer tired and covered in dark circles. It hits him in the moment slowly. Stan wasn't just the kid he had grown up with.

He was a man now, and he was breathtakingly beautiful.

...

Kyle's such a fucking simp.

While Kyle may never fully understand what Stan sees when he looks at him with that same old love-struck gaze, he does understand why he does it. Staring at someone you love makes everything feel a little more real.

Kyle reaches up before thinking, brushing his fingers through a strand of Stan's hair that refused to settle.

Stan blinks down at him, a little confused, but pleasantly surprised at Kyle's initiation of a more intimate gesture. And then he smiles, the only kind he gives to Kyle.

"You ok, dude?"

Kyle nods, his fingers still tangled in the strands of black hair, "Yeah just..." His voice trails off as he lets himself take in Stan's face one more time. The old and the new, "You look good," He finally says quietly.

Stan's cheeks go pink immediately, "I- what? Dude, I look like I got hit by a bus."

Kyle huffs a tiny laugh, enjoying his fluster with Kyle's teasing, "Then you're just one bus away from being on the cover of the world's sexiest man~"

"Dude. Please stop-" Stan squeezes his eyes shut to calm whatever sense he had left.

Kyle grins, proud to be the one flustering Stan for once, "What? I'm allowed to compliment my boyfriend."

Stan mumbles incoherently under his breath, face burning, "Not when you say shit like that!"

"Like what?" Kyle pushes his luck a little more, deliberately turning on his side to look up at Stan all innocently, "Like you're hot? Like you're incredibly handsome~? Like maybe I wanna revisit what we're gonna do toni-"

"Kyle," Stan squeezes his arms around Kyle and tries to hide his face more into Kyle's hair, "Mercy."

God, why is he so cute like this?

Kyle's laughs comes out soft and genuine, the sound easing the last bit of whatever made Stan frazzled, "Fine. I shall spare you for now."

The laughter fades, leaving behind a quieter kind of warmth between them.  Stan moves to rest his chin on Kyle's shoulder, eyes glued to the sky as a plane flies over. Kyle leans his weight back on him, letting the moment breath.

"... Don't you wanna go join the others for pizza soon?" Kyle asks quietly, keeping his tone casual.

Stan dramatically frowns, nuzzling the soft ginger hair, "Not yet."

Kyle opens one eye, glancing up at him.

"If you don't mind, I just wanna stay here a little longer," Stan says. His arm tightens a little bit more, "Feels like if I move, it'll all end for real."

Kyle hums in acknowledgement. He knew that feeling well too.

So they sat there for just a little longer. The echo of their final few weeks in South Park lingering in the air. Friday night games. The stressful cramming of homework. The chaos and mischief that made every week something to stress about. It was strange, thinking this was the last time it would look like this, longing for a place they were still in. Unwilling to leave memories behind, good and bad.

Stan shifted again, one hand absentmindedly tracing small shapes against Kyle's sternum through the layers of fabric on Kyle's jacket, "You know..." He starts, then stops.

Kyle waits.

"I used to think I would forever be stuck like that," Stan continues, "You know, just... watching you from afar, wishing I could have changed everything from that night. Forced to just... exist, I guess. Football and being average in everything was all I was going to be. I didn't really think about who I could be outside of all that."

Kyle shifts slightly, just enough to see his profile, "Stan..."

"But then I'd see you-" Stan lets out a tiny laugh, "And how we slowly, yet still somehow so easily fell back into our old routine after everything that happened. And suddenly, it wasn't enough to just... exist."

Stan looks down at the face softly watching his and smiles, "Call me cheesy, or sappy, cringe—whatever. But you really did make me a better person. Or- well, I did that. But being with you gave me that spark, that motivation."

...

It really was unfair how the words came so easily to Stan.

Kyle feels something warm bloom in his chest, "And I'm proud of you, Stan. I always was. Even from afar," Kyle traces the lines of Stan's collar bone, "I'm just sorry I'm not good at showing you that. And... just- showing anything."

Kyle's finger stops, his body fighting his brain for control, "I was... scared. Every single time- God. I- I never wanted you to think I hated or regretted our first kiss, or that I hated you. I'm still scared of whatever's going to happen after tonight, and if we make it out ok."

Stan listens to Kyle's ramble, allowing his own unspoken words to finally not go unsaid, "I'm sorry. For shutting the door on you without even giving you a chance. I want to be better for you too. Because I don't want to lose you."

The raven-haired boy's smile brightens and he nods, "I don't wanna lose you either."

The words left hanging were soft and vulnerable. The two stare longingly into each other's eyes as the moon above casts a soft halo around Stan's dark hair, and Kyle feels something just... click. 

He knows he thinks way too much, when really, it was all too simple.

Stan's gaze on him says it all. With all the self-doubt and wavering of confidence, there was one thing that remained constant. The way those ocean blue eyes can find Kyle in a crowd says enough that Stan's love was certain and true. And suddenly, the idea of them leaving South Park behind didn't sound so bad anymore.

Wherever Stan went, Kyle knew he'd always have a little piece of home with him.

Stan leans down to catch Kyle's lips in one more tender, loving kiss, "I love you, Kyle."

Kyle's body visibly trembles as he feels the anxiety building up inside him release itself. Kyle twists his body, legs swinging over one of Stan's legs to get a better look at his boyfriend. Fingers curling into the jersey that had become an necessity to bring before walking out the door. His hand hangs in the air for just a second of hesitation before wrapping himself around Stan's chest.

It's real, the words, the kisses, the 'I Love you's', and Stan. All of it is real.

Kyle pulls back from the hug enough to see Stan's face and those impossibly sincere eyes waiting for him with so much patience and love Kyle had spent so long convincing himself he didn't deserve.

But he does. He finally believes he does.

A soft laugh escapes him, wet and shaky as he cups Stan's cheeks again. "Stan-... fuck- I..."

The words come easier than Kyle expected them to. Stepping out of the safety bubble and into the unknown with Stan was not as scary as he made it out to be. Sitting here in the quiet field had never felt so peaceful with the only person who's ever made him feel less like a mess and more like a person worth loving.

"I love you too, Stanley Marsh."