Stan watched from the sidelines as Kyle ran up and down the
basketball court, showing off his skills and easily crushing everyone
who tried to step to him. He was easily the greatest basketball playing
in South Park, and Stan couldnât help the feelings he had developed for
the other.
It had confused him, at first, to realize that he had
fallen for another boy. His entire life he had never felt attraction
towards someone of his gender, but somehow, it was different with Kyle.
With his super best friend at his side, the repeated break ups with
Wendy had slowly gotten less and less painful. In fact, the last time
she had ended it, he had only been mildly surprised, hurt more by the
things she said to him than by the break up itself.
Letting out a
sigh, he dropped his chin into his hands, hunched over as his eyes
followed the movements of his secret crush. Sometimes it felt like his
heart was going to explode if he didnât tell him how he felt, but he
could never bring himself too. What if he was weirded out by his
confession? What if he didnât want to be friends anymore? Stan didnât
think he could handle that, and so had resigned himself to a life of
waiting.
When the practice ended, Kyle joined him, grinning
brightly. âHey, dude,â he greeted, bag over his shoulder. âYou know you
donât have to wait for me, right?â
âI know,â Stan answered, unable
to keep himself from smiling in return. âBut I like seeing you play, so
why miss the chance?â He got to his feet, scooping his bag off the
bleachers and following his friend out the double doors of the gym. They
were seniors, and Stan could feel the ominous presence of graduation
growing stronger every day. Soon, he would be forced to separate from
Kyle as they went off to different schools, different states, different
livesâŠ
He was pulled out of his thoughts by Kyleâs voice saying
his name. He turned to look at him, noting the concern on his face. They
had made it out to the parking lot and were standing beside Stanâs car.
âAre you alright, Stan?â Kyle asked. âYou seem kind of out of it. Feeling okay?â
âYeah, Iâm fine,â he assured, unlocking the car to let them in. âJust kind of tired is all.â
âMaybe
itâs the fifteen thousand sports you play and the twenty jobs you
have,â the teen joked as he slid into the passenger seat.
âIâll
have you know I only play ten thousand sports and have twelve jobs,
thank you very much,â Stan retorted, the pair laughing as he turned his
key in the ignition, the car roaring to life.
It wasnât a total
lie to say he was tired. He was, and playing three different sports,
balancing two jobs, and having time for social engagement meant he
didnât get a lot of sleep. Though to be fair, much of the time he should
have used for sleep, he used to text Kyle. They had grown up next door
to one another for almost eighteen years now, yet Stan felt like he
never ran out of things to talk to his friend about. Something new and
exciting was always happening, and he could never wait to have Kyle be
the first to know.
âHey, Iâm not going to be able to text with you
much tonight,â Kyle said, cutting off Stanâs merriment. The taller of
the pair felt ice rip through his body, but he tried to sound relaxed as
he answered.
âThatâs fine. Whatâs up?â
âMom is insisting we
have a family night. Which means sheâs taking all of our phones and
locking them away until tomorrow morning. I just wanted to let you know
so if I stop responding to you, you know whatâs going on.â
Stan
nodded, his blood slowly thawing from the panic that had gripped him.
Okay, so Kyle wasnât getting sick of talking to him, he just wasnât
going to be allowed to for a bit.
âThatâs cool, dude. Thanks for
telling me.â He pulled into his driveway and they got out, waving
goodbye and heading into their houses.
The Marsh residence had
changed since Shelly had taken off for college. There was no longer an
air of danger that seemed to hang over every nook and cranny, but it did
mean there was more room for his parentsâ dislike of one another to
take over.
Running a hand through his hair, Stan kicked off his
shoes at the door and removed his coat, then headed up to his bedroom.
He needed to be at work in less than an hour, but he wanted to at least
get started on his homework.
âââ-
Getting
off of his job at the grocery store at 6:30 and going directly to his
second job to work for another five hours wasnât exactly what Stan would
call a good set up. He didnât like to complain, however, seeing as
Kenny worked about ten different jobs, though no one knew how he managed
to pull it off while also having extra time to hang out with his
friends.
Honestly, working for his uncles at the gun shop wasnât
such a bad deal. Jimbo was more lenient with him than he was with his
other student workers, and on occasion, Ned would take him out back and
they would work on Stanâs aim. He was already pretty good, but as the
pair always told him, practice made perfect.
The closing shift
wasnât particularly hard, either. Most of the time, Stan simply sat
behind the counter and worked on his homework. On the rare nights when
customers would come in, Jimbo or Ned would handle them, and Stan would
restock or clean.
That night was by far the strangest shift heâd
ever worked, as customer after customer poured into the store. Stan
figured hunting season was coming up and that was a likely cause of the
activity, but he had never seen it before any other year. Regardless,
even one customer in the store meant he needed to be on his feet and
moving. It was the one rule his uncles had: when customers were around,
he needed to be working.
Calling out a greeting as the bell on the
door chimed to signal a new person had walked in, Stan worked on
stocking the racks of bullets. Since his talk earlier with Kyle, he had
been feeling⊠off. He wouldnât say he felt sick exactly, but it was
the closest feeling he had to compare it too.
Fighting back a
small wave of nausea, he went to the backroom to get a few rifles for
Jimbo to show to a customer. Carrying them to the front and handing them
over, he stopped and put a hand on the counter to steady himself as he
grew dizzy.
What the hell was happening to him?
Ned noticed
his paling face and motioned him to go back into the store room. He did
so gladly, slumping against a wall and pressing his hands to his face.
Since when did he have a fever? Or was it even a fever? Maybe his hands
were just cold so his face felt hot.
Jimbo came into the room to
check on him a few minutes later. Taking one look at his nephew, he
shook his head. âLetâs get you home, Stan. Ned can last a few minutes
alone.â
Overcome with exhaustion, Stan just nodded, having no more energy to even think about arguing.
In
the car, Jimbo chatted at him, peppering him with questions that Stan
simply couldnât process. It was like he was underwater, everything
sounding muffled and soft. When they arrived at his house, he stumbled
from the car and inside, saying nothing to his parents who were
surprised to see him home hours before he usually was.
Getting to
his room, he collapsed in bed and pulled out his phone, his hands
shaking as he hit the keypad in an attempt to send Kyle an apology that
he was going to be the one unavailable sooner than they had thought. His
vision was blurring, making it impossible to see what he had written
out. He jabbed the send button, then closed his eyes.
He wasnât
tired, so he didnât fall asleep, but it did help him get back some
control of his senses. After a while of laying still in the dark, he
heard the soft click of his door opening and his motherâs footsteps as
she came to check on him. Sharonâs gentle touch was welcome on his face,
which he realized was definitely overheated.
âOh, my poor baby,â Sharon murmured softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before leaving him alone.
Around
one in the morning, Stan pushed himself up out of bed and went to the
bathroom, checking his reflection. He didnât look so hot.
His face
was pale, and he was covered in sweat, which made his hair stick to his
forehead. His eyes were doing some weird shit and looked a bit hazy,
and Stan could feel he was still shaking. He took a few mouthfuls of
water from the sink, then returned to his room, collapsing back down
onto his mattress.
Grabbing his phone from his nightstand, he
turned on the screen to find multiple messages and missed calls, all
from Kyle. Bringing his phone closer to his face, he unlocked the screen
to look through the messages, starting with his own.
[9:24 pm] Stan: npr dinsg fiis srry cebt rekj rinighy tinorroe
He
stared at it in confusion, trying to puzzle through his words. Unable
to figure out what heâd meant, he moved on to Kyleâs messages in the
hope that he had figured out what he had been trying to say.
[9:27 pm] Kyle: What? Are you okay? Arenât you at work right now?
[9:39 pm] Kyle: Dude, whatâs wrong?
[10:11] Kyle: I just fought my mom to keep my phone for you. Iâm available if you need me. Please let me know youâre okay.
[10:26 pm] Kyle: Okay, Stan, youâre scaring me. What is wrong? Are you okay? Please just answer me.
[11:42 pm] Kyle: Stan I swear to god if this is you fucking with me Iâm going to be angry
[11:42 pm] Kyle: No, I wonât, Iâm sorry, I wonât be angry. Please be okay.
Following
the last message, every ten minutes he got a new text with just his
name. Feeling guilty for having worried him, he texted back quickly.
[1:02
am] Stan: Sorry dude i dont know what happened i just got sick at work
all of a sudden. Jimbo brought me home and ive been asleep since then. I
dont know what was wrong but i think im okay so dont worry.
He got a reply in seconds.
[1:03
am] Kyle: Thank god. Iâm glad youâre alright, you had me worried. You
sure youâre okay? I know we joke about it a lot, but be careful not to
overwork yourself. I know itâs nice to have extra money, but itâs not
worth it if youâre getting ill.
They sent a few more messages
back and forth before saying goodnight. Tossing his phone down, Stan
sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at his ceiling. The feeling
in his chest of his heart wanting to explode had returned full force,
and he rubbed his chest in a vain attempt to coax the pain away.
Why did he have to fall so hard for his best friend?
âââ-
Waking
up the next morning, Stan felt as though he had been beaten with a sack
of rocks. His entire body ached, and his nausea had returned with a
vengeance. Taking one look at her son, Sharon had ordered him back to
bed, which he gladly did.
He texted Kyle quickly to inform him he would not be going to school that day, then promptly feel asleep until noon.
Waking
up so late in the day was always a struggle for him. It felt like he
was pushing through molasses, and it didnât help that his body was
already protesting his attempts to move. Getting himself to sit up was
about all he could manage, especially as he was struck with another bout
of dizziness. He held his head in his hands, trying to stay as still as
possible until it passed.
Once it did, he checked his phone and
found a few new messages from Kyle, outlining what they had talked about
in each class. A small smile crept onto his face as he read over the
notes. How like Kyle.
It took another hour for him to finally will
his legs into working, and he wobbled down the hall to the bathroom. He
turned on the shower and got in, but quickly ran out of the energy
needed to stand, and instead sat himself on the floor under the stream
of warm water. As it pelted against his skin, he felt his eyelids
growing heavy. Knowing it was a terrible idea to fall asleep in the
bathtub, he maneuvered himself onto his hands and knees. With no small
amount of effort, he crawled to the faucet and turned off the water,
then pulled a towel into the tub. Once it was relatively secure around
his waist, he dragged himself on all fours out of the bathroom and back
to his room.
What the hell was going on with him? What had brought
on this sickness? Was he just exhausted, like Kyle said? Probably, Kyle
was pretty damn smart. Whatever was going on, Stan wished it would stop
already. He didnât have the luxury to be ill, and it was taking
precious time away from what little he had left to spend with his best
friend.
Letting out a frustrated groan, he fell back onto his
pillows, running a hand down his face. What did he want? What was going
to help him feel better? The answer came quickly to him, and Stan would
be lying if he said it wasnât true.
Kyle. He wanted Kyle. He
wanted to do what Craig and Tweek got to do: go around and be super
fucking gay. To hold hands and never let go, to show the world that he
was in love and didnât give a damn who saw him.
He felt tears
prick his eyes, and he let them fall. There was no one around he needed
to act tough in front of, so why bother? Why pretend he was okay when he
wasnât? No, he wasnât okay. He was in love with his friend, and there
was little to no chance of them ever being together.
Stan was
unsure how long he cried, but when his tears finally ran out, he turned
onto his side to face his bedroom door, not wanting to see outside. He
pulled his knees up to his chest, curling himself into a ball. His
despair was a physical weight he could feel pressing down on him,
crushing his chest, his lungs, his heart. Time seemed to distort around
him, and after what felt like only a few minutes, he felt the soft touch
of his mother. She was talking to him, likely asking how he was doing,
but Stan found himself entirely unable to summon the energy to answer,
or even look at her. He wondered idly how long he had been laying there,
knowing she got off of work at five. Hadnât it only just been one?
She
shook him, and spoke again, but for a second time, Stan offered no
response. He knew it was rude, but he simply couldnât bring himself too.
He was either going to be sick, start to cry, or lie and say he was
alright. None of those options were appealing, so he chose to stay
silent. Sharonâs hands felt around his face, but disappeared quickly.
He
watched her call for Randy, but couldnât connect the pieces in his
mind. Why was she reacting so badly? Was it that bad that he didnât
answer her? Fine, heâd figure it out, just stop yelling⊠Not that he
could hear her, Stan realized. He saw her lips move, could see the power
behind the words, but no sound reached him.
He opened his mouth
to say something of his own, but nothing happened. A little worried, he
tried to sit up, but the dizziness and nausea that plowed into him
forced him to drop back down onto the bed. His world spinning around
him, Stan shut his eyes and allowed everything around him to fade. He
needed, at least for a short while, to escape.
âââ-
The
first thing he noticed upon waking was that he could hear again. There
was a soft, calming beep that broke the silence every few seconds. He
kept his eyes closed, just taking it in. His hands felt the blanket that
was draped over him, and his brow furrowed in confusion. It was
unfamiliar, and it made him open his eyes to investigate.
He was
shocked to find himself in a hospital room. The lights were dim, and he
could see the sky outside his window was dark. Man, how fast had Sharon
brought him here? Just for not answering when she asked him a question?
As his eyes traveled the room, the door opened, and Sharon stepped in.
Seeing her son awake, she gasped, dropping the cup of coffee in her
hands.
âStanley!â She ran to his side, holding his face lightly as she began to cry. âIâm so glad youâre awake. Iâve been so worried.â
âWorried?
Itâs only been like, a couple of hours,â he mumbled, looking at the
clock on the wall opposite him which read 8:43 pm. When Sharon shook her
head, he felt his stomach twist into a knot. What did she mean no?
âBabyâŠ
youâve been really sick,â she said gently, lowering herself into the
chair that was beside his bed. âWhen I got home, you were delirious. You
didnât move when I talked to you, and you kept making these little
sounds. I felt your face and you were burning up, so we called the
hospital and they sent an ambulance.â
Stan gripped the blanket over him tightly in his fingers. âWhen?â he asked.
âFive
days ago,â Sharon said, comfortingly him as best she could. âWe got you
here and your fever was so high⊠you almost died. They couldnât
figure out what was wrong, all they could do was try and break it. At
one point, you just started talking gibberish and just wouldnât stop.
Shelly came back to see if you were alright. She and your father are at
home right now. Iâm so glad youâre awake!â She hugged him again, and
Stan returned the gesture, but he felt cold.
Heâd been in the
hospital for a week. Heâd almost died. Heâd almost died without getting
to tell Kyle how he felt. Heâd almost died and taken his love to the
grave. He shuttered hard and Sharon pulled back, watching him in
concern.
âYour friends have been worried about you,â she said.
âThey stop by every day to visit. Kyle comes by a few times a day. In
fact, he should b-â
She was interrupted by a knock on the door,
and it opened, revealing the teen himself. He smiled weakly at Sharon,
then noticed that Stan was sitting up. His eyes widened as they met his
best friendâs, and before he could stop himself, Kyle launched his body
across the room and into the other.
Stanâs arms opened
automatically, accepting the mass of emotions that was, what he would
consider to be, the love of his life as he buried his face into his
chest. Kyle began to reprimand him, calling him an idiot, telling him
heâd lost all sense if he thought he could have kept up with his monster
schedule without a hard burnout. Stan listened to every word, his arms
tight around the other. Kyleâs tirade stopped when he felt someone hit
his cheek. Looking up, he was surprised to see Stan was crying.
âStan,â
he said, sitting up as he bundled his sleeve in his fist. âDonât do
that. Stop, come on. Iâm not mad, I promise.â He wiped lightly at his
face, clearing away the water. âThere, see? Everything is okay. Iâm
sorry, I just⊠I was just so worried about you. I didnât know what to
do.â
Sharon left the two, excusing herself to go and call the family and let them know that Stan was wake and doing well.
Once
they were alone, Stan took Kyleâs hands in his, staring at them in his
lap. Internally, he was screaming at himself to not do this, to just
leave it be, but he knew he would only get sicker if he didnât do
something.
âKyleâŠâ he murmured, immediately getting his
attention. âI have to tell you something. The reason that Iâm here, why
this happenedâŠâ Taking a steadying breath, he forged on. âI may not be
as emotionally constipated as some people we know, but I think that
Iâve had a bit of a harder time with this that I would have if I just
trusted you more.â He refused to look up at his friend, not wanting to
see his reaction to what he was building too. âI accepted this⊠this
thing about myself a while ago, and I was fine with it, even though I
never told anybody else. I didnât think I needed to- no, I was scared to
let someone know. Because I didnât want them to think I was just
copying. I know Iâm genuine in my feelings, but that doesnât make it
easier when it seems like almost everyone else is set against you from
the start.â
His rambles cut off when Kyle pulled one of his hands
free to rest it against his face. The coolness of Kyleâs fingers helped
him to calm down and collect his thoughts, as well as give him courage.
Finally lifting his gaze, he locked eyes with the greatest friend he had
ever had, knowing this was the moment of truth.
âIâm in love with you.â
Kyleâs
jaw dropped in surprise, but he snapped it shut a second later as he
began to process what Stan had said. Stan, meanwhile, was working his
hardest to appear calm as the inside of his body felt like it was
exploding.
Youâve ruined everything! He doesnât like you that
way! Heâs not going to want to be around you anymore! You should have
just stayed quiet! If you had actually died this wouldnât be a problem!
How do you always manage to make giant problems out of nothing!? Stupid
fucker! You goddamn idiot! You absolute-!
The next thing Stan
knew, Kyle was kissing him. His lips were soft, gentle, and everything
Stan had ever wanted. He threw his arms around him, pulling Kyle closer
as he began to cry yet again. It seemed this was becoming a new habit.
Kyle
pulled back first, his arms wound around Stanâs neck. He stared hard
into Stanâs eyes for a long moment, then allowed a smile to take over
his face.
âI accept your feelings, Stan. And Iâm willing to give this a shot.â
âââ-
After
confessing, Stanâs health drastically improved. His mysterious illness
vanished without a trace, and Kyle began to call it his âlove sickâ
phase. Though Stan would pout and deny it, insisting it had been purely
stress induced, everyone knew the truth. Stanâs love for Kyle had been
so strong that keeping it inside had actually hurt him. It did make it
much easier to come out to his friends, as they knew he was serious and
not, as he had feared they would think, faking.
The time of
graduation was fast approaching, and Stan was enjoying a new commodity
in his life: a free day. Kyle had forced him to leave one of his sports
and quite a job, which did wonders for his school, social, and sleep
schedules. The new couple had taken up hanging out with the only other
(out) gay teen couple in town, meaning a lot of time was spent in Tweek
Bros. Coffee.
Tweek didnât mind, as he still thought of the pair
as friends, as they did him, and Craig simply didnât give a shit as long
as Tweek was fine with it. As such, they found the four of them fit
together quite nicely.
âHave you two thought about college?â Kyle asked one day as the four found themselves alone in the shop.
Craig nodded. âYep.â
Kyle
waited for him to elaborate, and when it became apparent he wasnât
going to, he rolled his eyes. âAnd? What did you decide?â
âIâm
going to culinary school,â Tweek answered, knowing Craig wouldnât. He
was wiping down the tables in the cafe, the other three sitting at the
counter by the register. âCraig is going to study this thing called
welding engineering and aeronautics. I canât remember what exactly they
are, but itâs a way to get into NASAâs space program.â The pride in
Tweekâs voice was almost palpable, making Stan and Kyle grin as they
watched Craig blush. Only Tweek had ever succeeded in making it happen,
and they acknowledged his skill rightfully.
âWhat are you guys thinking?â Craig asked in an attempt to get the attention off of himself.
âConstitutional
law,â Kyle said thoughtfully. âAt least for now thatâs the end goal. I
have to get a degree in something first though, so maybe Iâll try
psychology. Or sociology. Iâm not sure yet.â
âYou can always duel
major,â Stan added, nudging him lightly in the side before giving his
own response. âIâm going to study veterinary medicine. I want to work
with animals for the rest of my life.â
âWell, you have Kyle
already, so thatâs a good start.â Kyle glared at Craig and went to
retort, but was stopped when Stan put his arm around his shoulders and
pulled him close.
âKyle is amazing in literally every single way,â
he said. âSo, youâre damn right having him is a good start. Itâs better
than that, itâs the greatest start. He can kick my ass into gear like
no one else. Guess who isnât going to be missing assignments and
skipping classes now?â With a giant grin, he pointed to himself. âThis guy.â
Kyle
flushed brightly and covered his face, slapping Stanâs arm weakly.
âFuck you, dick,â he muttered, though his tone betrayed him by not
sounding angry or upset.
Stan darted in, planting a kiss on Kyleâs
lips before standing and stretching. âWell guys, itâs been great, but I
think itâs time to head home.â Taking his stunned boyfriendâs hand
(Stan giggled internally at the thought, still loving that he was able
to use the word âboyfriendâ and mean Kyle), they left the shop, heading
back down the road towards their homes.
He glanced at his best
friend and smiled. This had also become a new habit, but unlike the
crying, it had been welcome and stuck around. Stan found it almost
impossible not to smile whenever he saw Kyle for any reason, even when
he was being reprimanded, though those smiles needed to stay secret or
Kyle would beat his ass and that wasnât something Stan wanted.
When
they arrived at the fence that separated their houses, Stan paused to
turn and fully face the other, taking both of Kyleâs hands in his own.
âI
meant what I said at the cafe,â he said softly, watching their joined
hands. âIâm really lucky to have you, and I do think youâre amazing in
every way possible. You motivate me to be a better person every day. I
want to be the very best me I can be for you. Kyle, I just want you to
know that, whatever happens from here on, you are the best thing that
had ever happened to me, and I really do love you.â
Kyle stepped
forward, forcing Stan to meet his gaze. He leaned up and they kissed
lightly. Just before separating, Kyle murmured softly to him.
âI love you too.â
đ„ There is beauty in destructionđ„ 