Chapter Text
STAN
It was Gary.
Stan hadn’t seen him in ages, the result of both combined efforts to avoid him and the unplanned divide between their social circles. And he’d just embarrassed himself in front of him in all of the worst ways possible.
Stan nervously licked his lips.
Great.
Stan had to slightly tilt his head upwards to look at him now, making him uncomfortably familiar with the visage he’d tried to forget. He was taller now, but Gary’s perfectly blonde hair still lazily flopped over his forehead (as always).
But his face was different.
His typically cheerful face, beaming in that creepily friendly way of his, was gone.
Stan’s palms grew wet with a cold, permeating sweat as a whisper of fear traveled up his spine.
Gary’s eyes stared Stan dead in the face, like he was trying to x-ray through his skull. His usually smiling mouth was twisted into a cold, almost haughty expression.
Then, the expression disappeared, and it was like a mask rose over Gary’s face.
Back was the calm smile and the friendly gaze. Stan shook his head at the change, embarrassed to admit to himself that Gary Harrison just freaked him out more than sudden death.
(In this case, sudden death meant eating shit. In front of everyone.)
Gary released him and Stan realized that he was still staring at him. He quickly diverted his gaze over the latter’s right shoulder and felt immeasurably glad to see the bus had finally crawled to a stop.
“Well uh, thanks!” Stan yelped and rushed past Gary, bumping shoulders with him.
Almost skipping to the bus, Stan desperately rubbed his face with his hands, hoping that no one had seen how red his face had gotten.
He boarded the bus, going all the way to the back where he and the group usually sat. Gary got on behind him without a sound, which creeped Stan out even more.
Come on, it was like eight years ago bro. Let it go.
Oh hey, that rhymed.
Stan made his way through the maze of knees and elbows, awkwardly smiling and chuckling at snide remarks about his almost-fall.
Gotta take it in stride.
Or take it like a bitch :(
He sat down between Kyle and Cartman with a grunt, shoving his backpack in between his legs. The bus started moving and Stan was forced uncomfortably backwards, his back digging into the plastic seat.
He looked from Kyle to Eric, Eric to Kenny, Kenny to Kyle when Kenny suddenly burst out laughing. Cartman followed, his obnoxious cackling matching Kenny’s almost maniacal giggling. Stan turned and glared at Kyle, who was trying to hide himself in his mass of hair.
“Oh my god Stan. That was some of the most yaoi bullshit I’ve ever seen,” Cartman wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye.
“O-oh no! Look at me, I’m Stan Marsh and I need a big strong Mormon boy to save me from falling on my ass.” He mockingly squealed, lifting his hands up in a dramatic display.
“You guys are total fags.” Kenny tee-heed, muffled behind his new orange parka, already covered in rips and patches.
Stan groaned, pulling his beanie over his face. He retreated into the blissful oblivion of blue-threaded darkness, only to be promptly disturbed by someone “comfortingly” patting his shoulder. He instantly ripped his hat off and whipped around to see it was Kyle.
He was making a sad expression, almost puckering his lip in sympathy while tapping Stan’s shoulder. He’d finally emerged from his chrysalis of hair, his bright red curls fanned around his face like it was on fire.
That summer, after mistaking a drifting plastic bag for a cat, Kyle had finally gotten glasses and promptly broken them when Cartman got a new trampoline.
Now, behind those narrow, thinly-rimmed spectacles (with a hastily taped together bridge), Stan could see a hint of humor in Kyle’s eyes.
Oh come on, not him too.
He swat his hand away with a “Fuck off.”
Kyle looked offended and leaned back. “So what, are you guys boyfriends now?” His voice had a bitter twang to it Stan couldn’t help but pick up on.
“Listen, can we stop bringing this up? I’m getting flashbacks to 4th grade,” Stan hissed through gritted teeth. “You know me and… him. And anyways, he’s Mormon. Don’t they burn gay people or something?”
Everyone started laughing again at that, and a blonde head seven seats in front imperceptibly tilted. The group naturally sank into conversation, complaining about new classes and the end of summer.
Stan compared schedules with everyone and was relieved to find out he and Kyle shared 1st period calculus.
Once the bus arrived at the school and everyone made their way out, Stan was suddenly yanked backwards. He spun around, quickly stopping himself to see it was Cartman.
Stan opened his mouth to say something but before he could, Cartman blurted out “Meet me at my house after school. Tell Kyle.” and scampered off in the opposite direction.
Huh?
GARY
He was supposed to be accepting.
But oh my gosh does Stan Marsh suck balls.
Gary stomped to his classroom through the hallways, his head bent down and ignoring the new “Welcome back!” posters that adorned the walls. He hated the way being near Stan made him feel, hated the way Stan made him so… mean.
It was like nothing had changed between them in all that time apart.
How could he even say what he said on the bus? He’s just an uneducated hick, like this whole town.
Whole town of morons.
Mind you, I helped him this morning. And what did he do in return?
Gary looked up from the floor to see he’d nearly passed his 1st period classroom.
He walked in just to see Stan Marsh. And Kyle Broflovski. Sitting down on opposite desks.
Just my luck.
He let out a low sigh and was about to sit down in the back when the teacher announced seating would be based on nametags.
Sure enough, each desk had a piece of multicolor paper taped to its front with a different name.
Gary looked around to find his, and eventually noticed a yellow slip of paper with “Gary” on it right next to a blue slip that read… “Stan”.
He tightened his fist into a ball and tried not to scream.
By lunch, Gary had never felt happier to see Kevin and Annie. Esther was absent, but he assumed she was still in Cabo with Jenny.
He sat down at their usual table and unpacked his lunch with the first genuine smile on his face all morning.
A peanut butter and honey sandwich on rye, grapes, a pudding cup, and a red Gatorade. Yum!
He and Kevin instantly engrossed themselves in a discussion of Star Wars (as always). Today, they debated what order the prequels, originals, and sequels should be watched, with Annie interjecting from time to time to spill gossip about what happened over the summer.
Having spent all that time away in camp, Gary felt enormously surprised (although he didn’t show it) to see how easily things clicked into place.
In his 4th period, Gary fiddled with his hands. He held one in the other, rubbing his right thumb in concentric circles against his left palm. His gaze was vacant.
They were supposed to be working on introductions.
He closed his eyes, letting the incessant droning of his teacher fade away. There was nothing but the warmth between his fingers, and the sensation of everything melting away. Drowsiness seeped in through the corners of his vision, growing darker.
“Mr. Gary Harrison!” A loud voice boomed.
Gary startled with a snort.
An angry Mr. Garrison stood over him.
What? How is he still teaching? And here?
“Having a nice nap, were we?” Garrison curled his lip.
Gary sunk into his seat, drifting below the desk. It’s like I’m back in—
“Gary!”
He startled with a yelp, trying to bolt out of his desk just to ram his knee into the table’s underside.
“Oh, sorry! Just wanted to let you know that 4th period’s over now,” his rouser said. “See you tomorrow!” Ah. It was just Millie Larsen.
“See you, Millie.” He muttered.
I need to get my head together.