Archive of Our Own ^beta

Stan and Kyle’s junior year ends on a warm Friday afternoon, 2 pm, just like that. The bell rings, and then they’re outside, in the dry heat.

Their last class was history, in which no one was paying attention. It was one of the few classes they still share together. Kyle takes various college-level classes, so many that Stan can barely keep up with it. He’s never had a burning ambition for school like Kyle, though he unequivocally admires him for it. Next year he’s going to be entering into a prestigious college, no doubt. For now, Stan still has him, right by his side.

They walk to Stan’s car together, an old Toyota that he shares with his mom. Kyle all but runs to get into the passenger seat and Stan smiles to himself, light and easy. 

“Dude, I thought this day would never come” Kyle sighs, next to Stan. He rolls his head against the headrest of the car seat and laughs. Stan puts the key in the ignition. 

“Three whole months of doing absolutely nothing” he grins at Kyle as he backs up. Kyle is already busying himself choosing the music for their drive. 

Ever since Stan got his license in the beginning of the school year, he’d been driving himself and Kyle to school. His mom worked close to home, and so she allowed Stan to take the car as it also gave him the opportunity to become a more experienced driver. From the moment he’d learned about his car privileges, Stan’d known that he wanted to share this with Kyle. He’d gotten into the car, driven up to his house and honked the horn obnoxiously loudly. Kyle had stumbled outside, looking disgruntled, but his face quickly cleared up as soon as he saw Stan. 

“Dude, what?” he yelled, from out of the door frame. Stan had smiled widely.

“The car is ours!” he’d shouted. Kyle’s face had split with a smile. 

Stan had only started to notice how much their driving routine meant to him once Kyle was subtracted from the equation. He’d been sick a couple of weeks at the end of the winter, and Stan was left to drive in silence. Of course, he could have put on music. But it felt that much more useless. 

Now, they drive with the windows down, up the road they’ve taken a hundred times before. Kyle plays an upbeat guitar song, something indie from a few years ago. Stan doesn’t know it, but that doesn’t matter. It never does. Kyle smiles in a relaxed manner, eyes low-lidded and fire red hair carried by the wind. He drums on his knees, his fingers making a muted tapping sound as they slap against the fabric of his jeans. 

Junior year had been hard on Kyle. He’d overworked himself to the point where he would show up to school jittering from the lack of sleep. He’d always wanted to get into an ivy league college. It had been what was expected of him. And he could do it, Stan knew that. His faith in Kyle was incredibly strong and unwavering. At times, he thought it was the most defining part of him; his confidence in Kyle. He knew deep inside that nothing could ever stop him from sticking by his side. His parents’ crumbling marriage had made him doubt unconditional love plenty of times but when he was with Kyle, his belief felt restored, just like that.

Stan hadn't had it easy either all year. His parents fought relentlessly. Stan had started to think it required a great amount of mutual dedication to stay together, even through all the rottenness. Maybe that was love. He wouldn’t know. His mom had set him up with a therapist halfway through the year. She was a nice woman who was a little bit younger than his mom and reminded Stan of one of his teachers in elementary school. After two months of therapy he was put on antidepressants, which helped, somewhat. At least he wasn’t feeling like dying all the time. But it still wasn’t easy. All that though, was routine by now. Stan had gotten used to it. Most devastating to his personal wellbeing as of recently had been Wendy breaking it off with him. 

Wendy had been Stan’s girlfriend for over 5 years. Their relationship had drained lifeless after about half of those years, but they’d kept it going. Stan had loved Wendy, and even though he knew they were never going to last, he’d still appreciated her as a constant in his life. She’d supported him when he played football, and supported him all the same when he quit the team. She’d wanted better for him, always, kissed him sweetly, treated him with care. Most importantly she’d been a reassurance, something to take his mind off the things that set his chest on fire. 

His feelings for Kyle was one of those things. Stan had tried to ignore the subject for years. Alas, his feelings persisted like a force of nature.

Next to him, Kyle hums along to the song playing. 

“What should we do with our free time? What’s the first thing we’re gonna do?” he asks, beaming. Stan laughs. 

“I don’t know dude” he mumbles. They will figure it out. Kyle keeps humming along. 

Once they get to Kyle’s house, Sheila greets them and offers to make some treats for them. Kyle declines though, pulling Stan along on the stairs. 

Inside his room, Kyle flops on the bed, face down. 

“Rest, at last” he says dramatically, voice muted through the sheets. Stan laughs and takes place on the floor.

Kyle’s wall is adorned with photos from through the years. There’s one pasted right by his bed, where he sleeps, of the two of them at Pikes Peak. Kyle always insisted he hated hiking, but he hadn’t complained much during that trip. Stan remembers it clearly. It’d been one summer ago, and it had been unbearably hot. Kyle’s hair was sticking to his forehead, sweat dripping down in beads. But they’d laughed at everything, feeling giddy with adrenaline. Stan relishes in these memories they share together, just the two of them. 

He gets to his feet, walks over to Kyle, who is still on the bed. 

“So what should we do?” he asks, but Kyle doesn’t respond. When Stan checks, he’s fast asleep. He smiles. He knows how the school year had exhausted Kyle. He’s happy to see him rest. He gently moves to take off Kyle’s trusty ushanka and places it on his nightstand. Kyle is a deep sleeper, once sleep comes to him. He’ll probably nap for a couple of hours. And Stan doesn’t care, even if he’d looked forward to them hanging out.

He places a blanket over him, dares to touch his hair again, if only for a second. It’s rare to see Kyle defenseless like this. Stan feels warm inside. He sits back down on the floor, puts in his earbuds, and waits out the afternoon. 

-

Two days later, Stan heads over to Kyle’s house again. The sun is endless, and it beams down on him. He takes his bike from out of the shed, dusts it off and checks his tires, then sets course towards Kyle. He likes cycling, especially when it’s summer. He’s sick of all the driving he’s done the past year. Once he gets to the house, he throws down his bicycle on the grass of the front lawn and knocks on his door. Sheila opens. 

“Ah hello Stanley! Good to see you again” she greets him. 

“Hi Sheila, how are you?” Stan asks politely. She nods and smiles. 

“All good sweetheart, Kyle is upstairs”

Sheila loves Stan, and this satisfies him greatly. She isn’t easy to please, finding negative things to say about most of Kyle’s friends, but she’d been fond of Stan ever since him and Kyle met, a lifetime ago. Even more so since Stan’s parents’ relationship became turbulent, and his home life more difficult. Sheila always makes him feel welcome, pushes him to stay for dinner, and prepares an especially luxurious breakfast when he sleeps over.

Stan climbs the stairs two steps at a time. He’s excited to share his plans for the day with Kyle, hopes he’ll be as excited as him. When they were kids, they used to love biking together. They hadn’t done it in a long time. 

Stan enters and Kyle is on his bed, reading a book. Stan admires Kyle for reading in his free time as his own attention span is not nearly good enough for such a thing. He’s wearing denim shorts that fall just above his knee and a green shirt. He doesn’t look up as Stan enters, just speaks. 

“Hi”

Stan closes the door behind him. 

“Hey” he says, and he sits down next to where Kyle is lying. Kyle continues reading his book, looks up only when he’s done with the page. 

“What’s up?” he asks, after bookmarking where he left off.  

“Nothing” Stan shrugs, “What were you reading?”

Kyle gets up from the bed, putting the book on his desk and sitting down on the chair. 

“Dostoevsky. It’s a bundle of shorts”

Stan smiles, enamored. 

“Sometimes I forget how much of a nerd you are” he comments. Kyle rolls his eyes, crosses his arms. 

“Are you just here to insult me?” 

Stan shakes his head. 

“No, Kyle, I’m here to invite you on an adventure”

Intrigued, Kyle uncrosses his arms, leans forward on his knees. 

“Do continue”

“Let’s go biking. Like old times. Let’s cycle into the woods. It’s too nice of a day to spend it inside reading”

“You are such a freak. Who do you know our age that goes biking in the woods for fun?” 

“Is that a yes?”

Kyle gets up then, walks over to his desk. 

“Sure, let’s go. Let me grab some stuff. Can I bring my book or are you gonna judge me for reading?” he says. Stan laughs. 

“I’m not judging you. I like that you’re a nerd. Makes me feel cooler in comparison” he boasts. Kyle rolls his eyes. 

“You are so far from cool. You wanna go biking in the woods for fun”

“Nature is cool”

“Okay Stanley. Let’s go” 

Kyle gets his own bike from out of their garden shed. He takes it around back and then they’re on the street, ready to go. Sheila comes to stand in the doorway, hands on her hips. 

“Going somewhere?” she asks. Kyle rubs his neck. 

“Stan wants to go biking. Is that okay?” he asks. 

“Don’t go too far” Sheila tuts and Stan smiles, feels faint jealousy in his chest at what Kyle probably views as her being overprotective. 

“Ma, we’re not babies” he says. 

“Bubba, I just want you to be careful”

“We will be” 

“Okay, have fun boys” Sheila smiles, eventually. 

“Thanks Sheila!” Stan beams, and she waves at him.

They head off and bike along the roads, past all the houses and shops they’ve come to know so well.

“It’s unfair how my mom likes you better than she likes me” Kyle mumbles. 

“Can you blame her?” Stan says, glancing over at him. 

“Suck-up”

Eventually, they reach the border of town and the dirt roads. The trees become denser, a green ceiling of leaves above them, with gaps of sun rays falling through. They bike up a gentle slope, further into the woods, and after about fifteen minutes, Stan spots a plain of grass and comes to a halt. He drops his bike down in a bush and walks over to the field. He lets himself fall in the tall grass and closes his eyes, taking in his surroundings. Not long after, Kyle lies down besides him. Stan peaks at him with one eye open, smiles. The sun falls on his face and he sighs. He’s always loved nature, and summer is his favorite season. Partly because of the weather, and his time off from school. Probably more so because summer, to him, means spending a lot of time with Kyle outside the classroom. 

The trees rustle and bugs chirp from the bushes. Stan sits up on his elbows, looks over at Kyle. 

He’s staring at the sky, eyes wide. His skin is pale against the green grass, and his hair glows golden with the sun. Stan wants to touch it, but he knows that would be weird. 

“So what should we do?” Kyle asks, sitting up as well. 

“You can read, if you want”

“What about you?”

“I’ll just- I don’t know. Sit? Why do we need to do more than just that?” 

Kyle grabs his book from his backpack.

“Wouldn’t we get bored?” he asks.

“I won’t” Stan shrugs. 

“Sorry, I guess I like to be occupied”

“I know you do”

They sit in silence for a short while, with Kyle reading his book and Stan making out shapes in the clouds. 

“Sometimes you make me feel like an idiot” Kyle speaks then. 

Stan laughs, confused. 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like - you are so self-assured. I feel like everything you do, you are fully behind it. You know what you want, you know how you feel about everything”

“I really don’t think so”

“That’s how you come across to me” 

Stan sits with his words for a moment. He doesn’t feel at all like what Kyle is telling him. In fact, he feels the opposite, second-guessing everything that he does in the back of his head, especially when it comes to Kyle. 

“I mean - I played football and then I quit. And I thought I wanted Wendy, but she dumped me too” he says. Kyle shrugs. 

“It takes a lot of guts to quit something too. And Wendy dumping you says nothing about your commitment to her” 

Kyle continues reading, looking away again. Stan feels dizzy being put into words by Kyle. It’s strange to know exactly how he sees him. 

“I feel like I don’t know anything” Stan mumbles. 

“Yeah, me neither” Kyle agrees. 

Some time passes, Stan doesn’t know how much. In this field, everything feels endless and ephemeral all at once. 

“Kyle?” Stan speaks. Kyle turns to him. 

“Yeah?”

Stan swallows. 

“Can you read to me?” 

“Okay” 

Kyle puts his finger to the page, focuses. 

“I am a dreamer” he starts. 

“I know so little of real life that I just can't help reliving such moments as these in my dreams, for such moments are something I have very rarely experienced. I am going to dream about you the whole night, the whole week, the whole year” 

Through his eyelashes, he looks at Stan briefly, before going back to reading. 

“I feel I know you so well that I couldn't have known you better if we'd been friends for twenty years. You won't fail me, will you? Only two minutes, and you've made me happy forever. Yes, happy. Who knows, perhaps you've reconciled me with myself, resolved all my doubts”

Stan lets his eyes fall shut as Kyle continues reading. The touch of the grass around him ghosts over his skin, and the sun makes him feel warm warm warm. He thinks about Kyle’s words for the rest of the afternoon and on their bike ride home. Afterwards still, his voice echoes in Stan’s brain as he drifts off into sleep, unassailable longing blooming in his chest, and his parents arguing below the floorboards.  

-

It’s a warm late Tuesday evening when Stan goes over to Kyle’s house next. It’s only been two days since he’s seen him, yet he misses him inexplicably. Stan hasn’t done much in the meantime but laze around the house, getting into petty arguments with his dad, playing guitar, going on runs and sleeping. 

Kyle is at his desk, bare feet up, reading again. This time he puts down his book immediately when Stan comes in, face lighting up as he sees him. He’s dressed in a loose-fitting shirt and athletic shorts. Stan feels sweaty in his own clothes. The heat of the day is palpable, even if the sun’s set already. 

“Hey you” Kyle says.

“Hi dude” Stan grins. He feels light again, away from his house and back to where he really belongs. Kyle’s house, Kyle’s room, Kyle. 

“It’s so hot, I’ve been sat in front of the fan all day, but it’s not helping” 

Indeed, in the corner of the room the fan is working overtime. 

“I know” Stan groans, and he puts down his backpack. They’d agreed to have a sleepover tonight, and the prospect of it makes Stan feel slightly giddy. They were touchy, always had been. Falling asleep entangled was nothing short of usual for them.  

“Should we watch a movie or something? Gaming is too much effort right now. I just wanna zone out watching TV” Kyle says as he gets up to sit on the floor. He has a TV-set in the corner of his room, but no furniture to accompany it, and so Stan sits down next to him. 

They watch a gloomy thriller from the 90s. Stan has never heard of it. He prefers romantic comedies, but he wouldn’t tell Kyle that. Kyle loves self-serious movies that are over 2 hours long. 

Kyle’s room is dim and the night feels heavy, making Stan feel tired. He sits next to Kyle with his legs up, bare legs sticky from the heat. Kyle’s watching the movie intently, hugging his knees. Halfway through the movie, Sheila comes up to tell them not to sleep too late, and brings up some fruit snacks. Mango and strawberry. Kyle is focused on the movie, eyes trained, following the main character’s movements. Stan can’t get himself to pay attention. His gaze is stuck on Kyle, who’s taken a piece of fruit between his slim, bony fingers. The piece of mango glistens with juice as he brings it to his mouth. He sucks on his fingers once he’s eaten it, and Stan can’t look away. 

Wendy had told him something about himself that he’d never been able to forget. She’d said that he was too honest, too evident in his feelings, and that’s how she knew that they couldn’t go on. She could tell, she’d said, that he’d given up on her. Stan had been confused because he still loved her. Maybe it had been a different kind of love, the kind where you love someone for what they represent, not what they really are.  

Now too, Stan sits with his overbearing feelings as his eyes linger on Kyle beside him. He feels ashamed because he wants to kiss him, bite the taste of summer fruits out of his mouth. He takes a piece of mango for himself, deludes it into being some kind of replacement. It’s not, of course it’s not. It’s unbearably sweet, but it means nothing to Stan if it’s not chased by Kyle’s mouth, the taste of his lips. 

Stan feels stupid, and too exhausted to watch the seemingly endless movie. Kyle appears entranced, the shape of him backlit by the moonlight. Heavy with sleep, Stan moves his foot, only slightly, so that he’s touching Kyle’s. Kyle doesn’t stir. 

His touch feels electrifying, and Stan gets even closer. Kyle puts a hand on his knee then, grounding him. He doesn’t look away from the screen.

“What’s up dude?” he asks under his breath. Stan shakes his head. 

“Nothing”

Kyle squeezes his knee softly. 

“You’re missing it” he whispers. Stan can’t find it in himself to care.

“Wanna go to bed” he murmurs. He lies his head down, leaning against Kyle’s shoulder. Kyle rakes through his hair with his fingers. 

“Okay” he says. He drags Stan up and along. Stan falls on his bed. 

“Don’t sleep in your outside clothes dude” Kyle giggles. 

Stan groans, pulls his shirt over his head. Kyle hands him one of his shirts from his closet, which he pliantly wears. He turns away from Kyle, but he can’t escape him for long. He turns off the light and gets into bed next to Stan. His hands come up to ghost over his ribs, settle on his chest. They lie slotted together, even though it’s too warm, even though they’re best friends, even though Stan feels his heart bleed with shame. 

“It’s not even midnight yet” Kyle whispers, “You’ve become such an old man”

Stan bites his lip in the dark, and presses his eyes shut. 

He doesn’t say anything, just drifts away. 

“Goodnight Stan” he hears Kyle say, before he drops off into a dreamless sleep. 

-

Kyle smokes two cigarettes every day, in quiet indulgence. Stan knows when he likes to smoke best; right before school, in the morning with the car windows rolled down, and as the dawn falls, sitting on the roof by his bedroom. Stan thinks it’s quite miraculous that Sheila’s never caught Kyle smoking. Then again, Stan sometimes suspects her of turning a blind eye. Gerald had never shied away from smoking either, occasionally satiating his desires for the bad habit. 

Tonight, Stan’s parents are fighting again, about something unimportant, and Stan wonders when their next break will be. They’d had some breaks in the past. They were only that though; breaks. Never surefire separations. Never concrete endings. Stan hopes their next break to be soon because he can’t deal with their arguing for much longer. It’s even worse because he’s home all day. During the school year, he’d been okay at avoiding the subject, hiding in his room in the evenings. Now, he’s sick of his room, of his house. Summer vacation be damned.

This time, he leaves when they start to fight, just to get away from it. Maybe he’s living in denial. It doesn’t matter. When the shouting begins, he sneaks out through the kitchen and runs down the street, feet slapping against the pavement. Stan knows as he sets course to Kyle’s house, with the sun sinking behind the mountains, that Kyle will be on his roof, usual time and place. When Stan gets to his house, his suspicions are proven correct, and Kyle is sitting with his knees up by his window. Stan climbs up via the trashcan placed against the wall, and goes to sit next to him, heaving. Kyle cocks an eyebrow.

“Hi?” he says confused.

“Sorry” Stan speaks between heavy breathing, “My parents were fighting. You know how it is” 

He can only hope that Kyle can imagine, or at least attempt to. It makes him sad that there’s a part of him that Kyle can never fully know. Then again, he’s happy that Kyle will never have to know what it’s like.  

“Oh- yeah, I’m sorry dude. I was just about to-” Kyle doesn’t finish his sentence, just takes out a cigarette from his packet and grins awkwardly. Stan chuckles. 

“I know” he says. Sometimes he thinks Kyle is the only thing that makes sense to him.

Kyle smiles softly, then puts the cigarette between his lips. He lights it and sucks in, blowing out smoke slowly, eyes falling shut with relief. 

“Are you alright?” he asks between drags. Stan nods, sharp and short. It’s not completely true. Of course he’s affected by this.

Kyle breathes in, then taps off some ash, onto the roof tiles. Stan shifts, leaning his elbows on his knees and burying his head in his hands. Kyle doesn’t speak again. 

When Stan sits up again, Kyle is blowing out smoke once more and Stan turns to him. 

“Can I have a drag?” he speaks, voice wavering. He feels childish. 

“Really?” Kyle chimes. Stan doesn’t much care for smoking. Usually he sits quietly as Kyle indulges. He’s more of a drinker.  

“Yeah” Stan nods. 

“Okay dude” 

Kyle puts the cigarette between his lips and Stan inhales, slowly, careful not to cough. He feels the nicotine rush to his brain, and he breathes out. 

Kyle finishes up and puts out his cigarette. 

“Stan, you can talk to me. You know that right?” he speaks, looking out into his yard. 

Stan rubs his neck. 

“I know. But there’s not a lot to say. My parents suck. They’ll never not suck”

Kyle turns to him now. 

“Maybe so. But it’s nothing that you can change, or could have ever changed”

“You don’t know that-”

“No, I do know that. Stan, none of it is your fault. They are adults, and they’ve known each other for much longer, before they ever had you. This is not your fault”

Stan knows that this is technically true, but sometimes it’s a hard truth to bear. If it’s not his fault, then that just means his parents are truly fighting over nothing at all, for the sake of it, because they need it, somehow. That scares Stan, and he pushes the thought away, deflects. 

“They fight because of me. A lot. Sometimes it’s therapy costs, then it’s college fees, then it’s about the football team, how my dad is so disappointed that I quit and how my mom is just perpetually defending me, then it’s about Wendy, how lovely of a couple we were. My dad will fight my mom on the particular fact, saying Wendy was bad for me, or whatever. They fight about me all the time” he says. He doesn’t often share his feelings, but when he does, the stream of words tumbling from his mouth is endless. 

“All of those things are not worthy to fight over, and they’re not theirs to fight over. You know that right? It’s them Stan. It really is” Kyle insists. Stan looks away. 

“Okay” he mumbles despite himself. Sometimes Kyle’s care is enough to make himself believe in lies. 

“I hope you believe me” 

“Yeah. I’ll try”

Stan looks over to his side and catches Kyle’s eye, smiles. 

“That’s good already” Kyle beams. He seems proud of Stan, and that makes Stan feel warm. He looks at his feet. Before he can comprehend what’s happening, Kyle’s arms encircle him, pull him in. 

“Stan?” he murmurs into his shoulder. 

“Hmm?” Stan hums.

Kyle’s fingers grab at his shirt, cling to his back. They’d always fit together well. Maybe they’d grown to be like that, over the years. 

“Don’t smoke” Kyle whispers into his ear. Stan can’t help but laugh. 

“Really? You are the biggest hypocrite in the world” he scoffs, pulling back. 

Kyle laughs, shy and sweet. They bounce back from the hug, settling at a respective distance once more. It feels wrong to Stan, to move away from him. The sun sets and the sky colors a deep, dark blue. It hasn’t rained in days, and the air is crisp and dry. Stan feels like he’s reeling. 

-

A week and a half into their summer break, Kyle’s parents go on a vacation to see Gerald’s relatives. A full week, gone from South Park. Kyle was originally supposed to go, and he’d been relatively excited. He’d changed his mind last minute though, for reasons unknown to Stan. Now it was going to be Sheila, Gerald and Ike, gone and Kyle, stuck in the town he claimed to hate so much, yet couldn’t get away from. Sometimes Stan wondered about college. Most times though, he tried to avoid thinking about it. 

Sheila had been okay with Kyle staying home after some convincing. Kyle had told her that it would be good practice for when he’d have to live on his own next year, when he’d be off to college. College-talk always sufficiently persuaded Sheila, and so the house was Kyle’s and, by extension, Stan’s. 

They sleep together in Kyle’s bed for three days straight. They don’t even discuss it. It happens as naturally as rainfall, as the sun that sets every day. Stan feels like he’s living the life he’s always dreamed of, albeit subconsciously. They sit on the kitchen counter, eating butter toast and drinking orange juice. Kyle smokes in the yard, and Stan stretches out on the couch, drinking beers. They warp their brain watching TV, they play games and they go walking around town. They avoid all their other friends. Stan hasn’t seen them in weeks. He doesn’t need to. Kyle reads at the kitchen table and Stan cooks them greasy pasta. Kyle cleans the kitchen, if reluctantly. They sleep under the thin linen sheets of Kyle’s bed.

After four days, Stan needs to go home. Not because he wants to, but because Sharon calls him, asking for it. Despite it all, Stan loves his mom to death. If it had been his dad calling, Stan would have just ignored it. But his mom needs him, and he can’t just run forever. 

As he sleeps, he misses Kyle more than he thought he would. The soft touches, his steady form, the shapes and colors of him, in the dark, between the sheets. 

The day after, Stan all but runs through town to get back to Kyle’s house. That night in bed, they lie half-asleep, stuck in an embrace, Kyle’s head against Stan’s chest. 

“Stan” Kyle whispers into the room. 

“Yeah?” Stan mumbles into his hair. He smells like firewood. 

“The sheets”

“Hmm - what about them?”

“They’re too hot. Can’t sleep”

“Hmm”

Kyle attempts to escape out of Stan’s arms, although it’s a lackluster attempt. 

“You need to let go of me. I can’t get out otherwise” he whines, voice thick with sleep. 

“Don’t wanna” Stan mumbles back. Half asleep, he feels him lightly bite into the flesh of his shoulder. Stan’s chest hurts. 

“‘M gonna burn to death” Kyle says. 

“I can’t sleep without sheets” Stan mumbles. 

Kyle giggles, surely delirious. “Why not?”

“It’s- it’s scary” Stan laughs.  

“That’s so dumb dude” Kyle presses his head to his chest. 

“I’m not letting you get away from me” 

He tightens his grip on him. 

“Okay, well, I need to take off my clothes then” Kyle says.

Stan laughs again, baffled. 

“What? You freak!”

“You’re not letting me go out from under the sheets!”

“Don’t take off your clothes Kyle, spare me”

“Just the shirt then?”

“Okay”

Stan feels his cheeks burning at the prospect of Kyle taking off his clothes. They always keep some sort of boundaries by wearing sleeping clothes to bed. Touching Kyle’s bare skin is off-limits, unspoken but clear. 

“Aren’t you warm too?” Kyle asks. 

Stan is warm, but he’s not going to take off his shirt. He thinks he’d surely combust if Kyle put his fingers on his arms, his chest, no layers between them. 

“A little bit” he admits. 

“Just get rid of the sheets Stan” Kyle groans. 

“No!”

“Lame ass” 

Kyle pulls his shirt over his head, and immediately goes to lie back down to where he was before, at Stan’s side. 

“Thought you said you wouldn’t let me go” Kyle whispers, when Stan is too cowardly to hold him again. 

Stan carefully places his hands on Kyle’s upper biceps, fingernails digging into his skin. He feels so so warm, and Stan, in turn, feels his heart burning. 

“I’m not” he whispers back. He feels Kyle smile against his chest. He dreams of forest greens, bright red hair and sharp teeth. 

-

Stan hasn’t left Kyle’s house in days, and they finally decide to raid the liquor cabinet instead of just drinking Gerald’s beers from the fridge. 

“Can’t believe your parents didn’t lock this up” Stan says, as they take out a candy pink bottle that looks to be containing apple liquor. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this” Kyle murmurs, anxious. 

“It’s just one bottle. I’ve had it before” Stan reassures him. 

“Dude, that’s not something to be proud of” 

“I never said I was”

Kyle takes out shot glasses from the kitchen cabinets, sits down on the floor next to Stan. 

“My parents will kill me” he says, and Stan pours their drinks. He hasn’t gotten drunk with Kyle enough. He looks forward to it while simultaneously fearing his own intoxicated actions. 

“You’ve been smoking behind their back for like, three years now, and this is bothering you?” Stan remarks. 

“Shut up” Kyle glares. 

They clink their glasses, lock eyes. 

“To getting drunk” Stan toasts. Kyle laughs a short and breathy laugh before throwing back his drink. 

“That’s so sugary” he winces. 

Stan pours them more liquor. 

“You can handle it” he says, and Kyle proves his point by downing the shot immediately. 

They drink and watch television. Their knees are touching, and Stan can feel the alcohol seep into his veins. He feels light inside. They get halfway through the bottle about an hour later, and Stan feels positively buzzed. Kyle is more of a lightweight than him, and so he sits with his head leaning against Stan’s shoulder. They watch some dumb game show, and Stan places his hand on Kyle’s thigh, self-control apparently out the window.

“Why’d you break up with Wendy?” Kyle asks suddenly, voice slurred.

“Dude, you know!” Stan replies. 

Kyle does know. Stan had told him all about it. 

“No, not really?”

Stan glares at him.

“I mean, I know you said that you were too different, and that it couldn’t work out because of that”

“Yeah, well”

“Nothing else?”

Stan wonders what Kyle is looking for, what he wants him to say. Clearly, he’s not satisfied with the explanation he’s currently provided. 

“She said that - she thought that I might not be interested in her anymore” Stan starts. 

“I mean, duh” Kyle rolls his eyes. 

“No, I mean, her, and like - I don’t know”

“What, Stan?”

“Her and other girls. Just girls, in general”

A silence falls, for just a moment. Kyle bites his lip. 

“Oh” he remarks. 

“Yeah” Stan shrugs. 

“Dude”

“You wanted to know”

Silence again, and Kyle puts his foot over Stan’s own. 

“Is it true?” he asks. 

“Don’t know” Stan shrugs again. 

“Right”

The game show continues on, and Stan is only half-watching. He’s too distracted by Kyle touching him, and his line of questioning. He gives in, finds that the words tumble out of his mouth with ease when he’s under the influence like this. 

“It’s just - it’s hard to feel anything. Sometimes I think I’m too exhausted to care about someone like that, and I don’t really feel- I don’t know, love, I guess? Or excitement? And maybe it’s only like that with girls, or maybe I just wasn’t in love with Wendy anymore, and I don’t know better, I don’t know”  

Kyle says nothing, just stares at the ceiling. Slowly, his hand moves over to Stan’s. He links their pinky fingers together, then moves to hold his hand, entirely. Stan feels his chest set on fire, veins coursing with electricity. He squeezes Kyle’s hand. He’s sweaty and Kyle is so, so cold. 

Kyle lets go then, and he moves to sit across from Stan instead of next to him. Stan leans his head against the bed couch. Kyle looks tired, drunk definitely. His eyes are shining with inebriation, his lids heavy. 

He touches him again, fingers skimming his elbows now, careful, and Stan doesn’t say anything. He feels in a trance, glued to the floor and his position at Kyle’s mercy. He shivers, and Kyle smiles just slightly. He’s avoiding Stan’s eyes on him, focusing on where his hands are touching. He moves, running his hands along Stan’s arms until he’s holding his shoulders, and he has no chance to look away now. Stan holds his gaze, cocks his eyebrow as if to question him. Kyle grins, defiantly, not so shy anymore. 

“What are you doing?” Stan whispers, smile breaking his face. 

“Nothing” Kyle says sweetly, and Stan laughs until he feels Kyle’s fingers digging into his shoulders, hard but still so careful, and he’s breathless again. 

Kyle looks away from him, and he drags his fingers up so that they’re placed around Stan’s neck. Stan breathes in. Kyle’s grip is only light, but somehow he feels like gasping for air, like his chest is burning where his lungs are, where his heart is. 

Stan doesn’t know what’s going on, feels confused by the situation he’s found himself in, with Kyle putting his hands all over him, gracing him with the softest touch. He knows he’s drunk, and so is Kyle, more so than him. That must be it and that must be all of it. Kyle is touchy when he’s drunk, and Stan is just there, in the room, fortuitously present. 

Kyle moves again, sits closer and lets his hands wander down, down to Stan’s chest, fingertips floating over his collarbones and pressing down on his sternum. 

“I can feel your heartbeat” he says.

Stan takes a deep breath, once more, laughs shortly. 

“That’s good, right?” he whispers. 

“Yeah” Kyle nods, and he smiles again, locking eyes with Stan. He’s pretty in a way Stan thinks no one else could ever fully appreciate, but him. No one but him. 

Kyle moves then, backward, but Stan grabs his hands before he can really back down. He keeps them in place, and guides them back to his chest. 

“Don’t stop” he says, just barely above his breath.

Kyle doesn’t say anything, just complies, so so easily. Stan breathes in through his nose. 

Kyle drags his fingers up once more, now grabbing onto the sides of Stan’s face. Stan feels like crumbling under his touch. 

“Why not?” 

Stan doesn’t say anything, doesn’t know how to justify his own neediness. 

Kyle rubs his cheek with his thumb, tender and sweet. He’s so close, Stan can feel his breath on his cheek, can see the brown specks in his eyes, his long upper lashes, the threads of gold in his hair. He thinks, for a second, that Kyle is going to kiss him. 

His trance breaks when the oven beeps, in the kitchen. They’d put in a pizza, not so long ago. Stan rips himself away from Kyle’s tender touch. He feels devastated. They sit in silence, eat, finish their show, and they don’t touch each other for the rest of the night.

-

The next day, they head out to the forest again. In the evening this time, because the afternoon had been far too warm. The sun has set now, and the day has cooled off. Stan wears one of Kyle’s shirts and loose jeans. Kyle is wearing dark blue dungaree shorts, which Stan thinks look far too nice on him. They cut off at his thigh, way short and way distracting.  

Kyle complains as they bike, something about the wind messing up his hair. Stan just looks ahead. 

“So, what are we doing?” Kyle asks once they come to a halt. They’ve come back to the same field they went to before. Stan flops down in the field, lies down on his back. 

“I don’t know, I’ve seen people do this in movies, thought it would be fun” he says. It’s true, and he should be embarrassed about how much of a cheesy romantic he is. He’s taken Kyle to go stargazing in a field. Doesn’t get much more cliché than that. Maybe he should feel more shame over this, but the night breeze is so nice, and Kyle smiles beside him. 

“What, exactly?” he asks. Stan shrugs. 

“Going to a field. Watching the stars”

Kyle lies down too, so near that Stan can smell the soap he uses in the shower, lemon and honey. 

“What kind of movies are you watching?” he giggles. 

“Award-winning ones. Whatever” Stan says as he bumps Kyle’s shoulder. Kyle rolls his head to he’s facing Stan. 

“Are you sure they’re not just your mom’s shitty romantic comedies?” he teases. Stan punches him again. 

“Just - shut up and look at the sky”

“Yes sir” 

They look at the sky together, and it’s truly pretty. The night is clear after this warm, warm day. Stan can see Ursa Major. 

They lie for a while, in silence. Kyle hums a song under his breath, something that Stan can’t recognize. 

“You can’t tell me that this isn’t nice” Stan says after a while. Kyle smiles content. 

“No, it is” he agrees. 

“See! It’s insane how easily you cave”

“I didn’t cave, I never said it wouldn’t be nice”

“You made fun of me”

“Did I hurt your feelings Stanley?”

“Asshole” 

“Yeah, but you still like me”

Silence. Stan feels stupid, and see-through. Maybe Kyle knows, and maybe he’s just playing with him. 

“No, I totally hate you. I hate you so much” Stan says through his teeth. He wishes he actually meant it. 

“I hate you back” Kyle says, and he moves to sit on top of Stan, holds down his hands. Stan raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, you really wanna do that? I was on the football team, you know”

“Shiver me timbers” 

“Okay, you’re getting it” 

Stan grabs his wrists and pushes him off, rolls him over so that he’s down. Kyle protests vigorously, and they tussle for a while. Stan overtakes him, eventually. He’s stronger than him, still, although Kyle puts up a good fight. Stan straddles him, sitting on his thighs and pinning down his arms. Under him, Kyle heaves breathless. His hair is a mess, falling into his eyes. He won’t look away from Stan, eyebrows raised as if he’s expecting something. Stan doesn’t know what, wishes he did. He feels like his throat is constricted, like he’s going to pass out.  

“Stan-” Kyle starts. 

“We should probably go back” Stan cuts him off. He lifts himself off of Kyle, gets up from the grass. 

“Yeah, okay” Kyle agrees, and they lift their bikes from the field and head along. 

-

On the last night of Kyle’s parents’ holiday, Stan and Kyle attend a party at Tolkien’s house.

If they cared more, they might have thrown a party themselves, in all their days of solitude, Kyle’s empty house lending itself the perfect venue. They hadn’t felt the need for anything besides themselves, however, and they preferred to leave the party-throwing to other people anyway. The text Tolkien had sent them made it clear what the plan for the night was.

Pool party mi casa!!!!!!!!!!! Bring swim trunks & booze if you can

Stan usually likes parties, enjoys mingling with the crowd. He also relishes drinking, sue him, that’s another problem to store away, and he loves seeing Kyle intoxicated as well. Kyle is giddy when he’s drunk, all smiles and laughter, his usual rigidness disappearing and his movements becoming more sloppy. A few nights ago, he'd touched him all over, Stan remembers that too.

They arrive at Tolkien’s huge house a little after 10. The party is already buzzing. Stan and Kyle had drunk a few beers back at home, just to get loose and ready for social interaction. They’d seen only each other for a week straight. Stan is pretty sure that he’s forgotten how to properly interact with someone that isn’t Kyle. Maybe he never wants to again. 

“Hey dudes” Tolkien welcomes them in the doorway, shirtless and with a towel on his shoulder, putting his arms around the both of them. 

“What’s up dude?” Stan greets him as they make their way through the kitchen. Tolkien lets them go, begins to pour some drinks. 

“All good, all good. What’s up with you, and Kyle? Haven’t seen the both of you in a while”

“Good dude” Kyle smiles, wide and pretty, with his eyes crinkling. 

“Well I poured you a drink, but help yourself to as much as you want. And uh, everyone is already outside in the pool so come join!” 

“Okay, we’ll be right there” Stan says. 

Kyle pours himself some water, drinks it and puts the cup back down.

“So you’re single now, you planning to hook up with someone?” he asks. Stan is caught off guard. Kyle can’t possibly think he would be interested in anyone aside from him. He feels himself blush and shakes his head.  

“No dude, I’m really not” he says. Kyle doesn’t look at him, but he smiles, small and secretive. 

“Me neither” he mumbles. 

Kyle hasn’t ever been in a relationship before, something that Stan is somewhat guiltily happy about. He doesn’t know how he would deal with the jealousy he’ll undoubtedly feel otherwise. 

“Let’s go swimming?” 

“Yeah”

They walk outside into the yard, ripping off their clothes once they get there. The pool is packed, and so are the benches positioned around it. The water colors purple with the neon lights that sit along the walls of the pool. Stan bites his lip, forces himself to inspect his surroundings instead of looking at Kyle’s bare chest. Of course, Stan sees him change all the time, but it feels different, with the party going on, within everyone’s view. Stan averts his gaze. 

Wendy sits with Bebe by the poolside, cups clutched in their hands like they’re their lifelines. They laugh with their eyes closed, surrendering to drunken giddiness and the high spirits of the party. Clyde is in the pool, splashing Craig after which he subsequently he puts up both his middle fingers. Jimmy and Tolkien are talking to some girls that Stan vaguely recognizes to be seniors. Kenny is talking to Butters with low lids, very clearly stoned. Cartman is not there, thank fuck. Stan wants Kyle to have a relaxing evening, something not quite possible with Cartman there. 

Stan snaps back to reality and finds that Kyle is looking at him somewhat expectantly. 

“Well?” he cocks his head. 

“What, you’re gonna have me go in first?” 

“You need to test the waters for me, check the temperature, you know”

“You’re a baby, seriously”

But he does. Of course he does. Because he’s at Kyle’s beck and call, ready to serve and obey like a trained dog. Worst part is that he doesn’t mind. For Kyle, he doesn’t mind, and it should make him sick, how much he’s willing to do for him, how much it runs through his veins, this dedication. But it doesn’t. He can’t imagine it ever will. 

He steps into the water. It’s a pleasant temperature. He submerges his body, walks along. The water is quite shallow, but high enough to come up to his shoulders. Further on, the pool becomes deeper and deeper. Stan turns to Kyle. 

“It’s good” he smiles, and Kyle smiles too. 

As Kyle gets in, Stan wonders briefly about how he could react if Stan were to tell him about his feelings. Most likely, he’d smile in sympathy, then break the news to him, apologetically. He’d ramble on and on about how nothing has to change and how he still loves Stan and how it doesn’t matter to him. But Stan would know, that it would. That it does. But maybe it would be okay, if Kyle knew. Because Stan still loves him, regardless of reciprocation, and maybe Kyle deserves to know that. Then again, Stan can’t deny the shame he sometimes feels, the fear eating away at his core. Losing isn’t Kyle isn’t an option. It just isn’t.

“Not too bad” Kyle says when he’s in front of Stan.

“You know what I’m gonna do now, right?” 

Kyle raises an eyebrow at him, mouth open so Stan can see his teeth. 

“What?” he breathes.

Stan grins, then dunks Kyle underwater. He struggles, hands coming up to Stan’s side, and Stan lets him go almost immediately. 

“I fucking hate you so fucking much” Kyle says once he’s come up, words like venom through his teeth, but lacking any real bite as he smiles afterward, a real, face-splitting smile that Stan wants to look at forever and ever. He lunges forward and pushes Stan under. When Stan comes up, his hair is sticking to his forehead and he shakes it out. Kyle’s hair is similarly droopy, curls falling in front of his eyes in loops. Stan smiles again, can’t help himself. 

“You look great” he says. Kyle scowls at him. 

“Asshole. You know I hate my hair getting wet” 

“You look like a wet puppy. That’s a good thing” 

Promptly, a hand grabs Stan’s shoulder, and when he turns around he’s greeted by Clyde Donovan standing in front of him.

“My bro!” he says, with open arms. Stan feels imminent anxiety at the prospect of a bare-chested hug with Clyde, but finds no legitimate reason to decline his embrace. He’s pulled in by the shoulders and pats Clyde’s back. 

“Hey dude” he murmurs. Once he’s let go, Kyle immediately receives the same treatment as him. He looks over at Stan with widened, horrified eyes when Clyde is done hugging him. 

“Hey Clyde” he smiles awkwardly. Clyde laughs, clapping their shoulders. 

“I’m so happy to see you two! Everyone thought you guys just ran off together or something!”

Stan feels Kyle looking at him, but purposely avoids his gaze.

“We’ve just been hanging out” he shrugs, not sure what to say. 

“Well, come join the group, we’re just over there” 

They swim over to where all the guys from their grade are hanging out. Bebe and Wendy and some other girls have now also joined them. Clyde comes up next to Bebe and pulls her to his side, putting an arm around her shoulder. Wendy smiles at Stan politely. 

“Oh dude Stan, this must be awkward for you” Clyde laughs, eyeing between Wendy and him. Kyle clears his throat, fiddles with his fingers. 

“Hey Wendy” Stan says, ignoring Clyde’s comment.

“Hi Stanley” Wendy greets back. 

Stan hasn’t really talked to her since she broke it off with him. Sure, he’s seen her around at parties. She’s pretty popular, and very social. But he hasn't spoken to her one on one. This wasn’t on purpose, not per se, but he can’t say that he’s felt any desire for it. Kyle moves on his feet next to him, seemingly anxious for a drink. Underwater, Stan reaches around his wrist, keeping him steady. Kyle doesn’t look at him, just stares down at where he’s holding him. 

The group talks with ease. People take turns grabbing drinks from the pool house. After a while, Kenny and Butters join them too. 

“Hello gingersnap, Stanley, long time no see. Thought you’d abandoned me” Kenny grins, coming to stand in between Stan and Kyle, arms around their necks. 

Stan feels somewhat bad. He hadn’t planned on totally deserting his social life in lieu of just hanging out with Kyle, but he doesn’t feel that regretful over it. In fact, he thinks he might be okay spending the rest of his life with just Kyle, and no one else. The thought is terrifying, but familiar, like he’s known it for a long time, has already become acquainted with it. 

“Hey Ken” Kyle smiles. 

“Hi dude”

“So guess what”

Kenny tells an elaborate story about how he and Butters had broken into an abandoned farm just outside the border of town, dropped acid there and subsequently stole a bunch of old tools, then got the cops called on them. Stan loses track of the story halfway through. Kyle also seems to need a break from Kenny’s anecdote. 

“I’m gonna get a drink, you guys want anything?” he asks. 

“Beer please” Stan smiles at him. 

“Me too”

Kyle hoists himself out of the pool, leaving Stan alone with Kenny. 

“So, how’s your lover?” Kenny asks, wiggling his eyebrows. Stan facepalms.

“Kyle is not my lover” he says through his teeth.

“Ha! Why’d you assume I was talking about Kyle!” 

“Oh my fucking god Kenny”

Kenny throws his head back and laughs. Stan sighs. He’d never mentioned his feelings for Kyle to Kenny, but he supposes he’s always been quite transparent, just as Wendy had said. Kenny is smart, observant, and has known him for ages. Of course he can tell. Stan is not really surprised. 

“So?” Kenny pushes. Stan rolls his eyes.

“Nothing is going on” he says. 

“You guys have spent like, two whole weeks together. I haven’t seen you since the beginning of summer break. What the fuck have you two been doing then, if you’re not boning? I was totally okay with being left out because I just assumed you two were sucking face but now -” 

“Dude, shut the fuck up” 

“Okay, Stanley, I’m so sorry for pointing out how obviously you two are into each other” 

“Kyle’s coming back, just shut it, okay?” 

Kyle does come back, hands Stan and Kenny their drinks and lowers himself into the water slowly. Kenny clinks his drink against theirs, then swims off in Butters’ direction, though not before obnoxiously winking in Stan’s direction. Stan rolls his eyes again. 

“What was that for?” Kyle asks. He sips from his cup containing white wine. Stan finds it kind of endearing that Kyle drinks wine, ever the snob. He himself doesn’t like wine, but finds a sudden craving for it now, sweet, cold and icy down his throat.

“Kenny’s just being dumb” Stan says instead of the truth. 

Kyle nods slowly but doesn’t say anything else. 

Across from Stan, Craig, Tolkien and Clyde are having a contest to see who can stay underwater the longest. Clyde loses, looking devastated by the fact, and Craig wins, smiling smugly. 

“Babe, you need to work on your breath-holding skills! I wanna do the underwater kiss from Romeo and Juliet!” Bebe says. Clyde crosses his arms. 

“Fuck that” he murmurs. 

“What, why?”

“I hate that movie. I didn’t get what they were saying half the time”

“It’s because they’re talking in Shakespearean, oh my god Clyde” 

Stan feels somewhat overwhelmed. He’s glad when Tweek suggests everyone go inside for a little bit, to warm up by the fireplace. The night’s air is cooling down fast, and some people are shivering with it. As they’re exiting the pool, Stan lingers. So does Kyle. When everyone’s inside, Kyle swims backward, keeps himself afloat atop the water. 

“Bebe and Clyde are so dramatic” he says. 

“Yeah, poor Bebe. I can’t imagine dating someone who hated Romeo and Juliet” Stan laughs. 

“That’s pretentious Stan” Kyle says as he comes back down. 

“What? It was good”

“It was only just okay. You just like it because of Claire Danes”

Stan swims up to him now, slow and easy. The water feels nice, and he feels half-drunk. He’s only had a couple of drinks but his heart is racing, his bones electric. His movements feel feathery light. 

“Because of her and Leo. Because they’re good actors. That makes sense, doesn’t it?” he retorts. Kyle sarcastically nods. 

“Uhuh, that’s totally it” he says, and he swims away. 

Stan tries to keep up with him. 

“Okay, you’re right. I’m not smart enough to understand it anyway” he admits. 

“Bullshit”

“You just called me pretentious”

“You’re pretentious and smart. You’re very multi-faceted” 

Stan laughs. 

“Thanks Kyle, you clearly find me amazing” he says. Kyle looks back at him, over his shoulder, eyes squinted half-shut. 

“Sure” he answers. 

They keep swimming in silence for a while, soaking in the water. They come to stand again, at a more shallow part. Kyle shrugs, then grins. 

“Love at first sight is so stupid” he says. Stan frowns. 

“Do you really think so?”

He hasn’t thought about it much. He doesn’t think that what he had with Wendy was love at first sight. And if it was, then it definitely dwindled from that point on, and that’s maybe even sadder. He thinks about the first time he saw Kyle. They were both kids, still. It’s too long ago to remember. 

“Yeah, it is. And so is kissing underwater” Kyle reiterates.

He stands pale in front of Stan, freckles splattered across his collarbones. His lips are blue. He must be cold, but he doesn’t say anything. Stan cocks his head. 

“How come?” 

Kyle shrugs. 

“It’s dangerous. And it seems uncomfortable. When have you ever enjoyed staying underwater for longer than like, 10 seconds? How would you even properly kiss someone?”

“You’re thinking about it too much”

“I guess” 

For a moment, Stan considers proposing to kiss Kyle, right now, underwater, to prove a point. He holds his tongue. 

“I can stay underwater for way longer than 10 seconds dude. I think it’s just you” he says instead. Kyle scoffs. 

“Prove it”

Stan goes under at his command, lasting for about half a minute. He comes up and takes a deep breath. 

“See?” he says, shaking his hair like a dog. Kyle squints at him.  

“Eyes open?”

“Yep, eyes open” 

“I don’t believe you”

“Come see for yourself” 

Stan raises his eyebrows, and holds Kyle’s gaze to challenge him. Kyle doesn’t budge, just smirks. Stan’s desire to pull him in and kiss him right on the mouth grows by the second, and he feels himself blush. He hopes Kyle doesn’t notice. 

“Bet I can do better” 

“Oh, it’s on Broflovski” 

Stan goes under again, getting to the bottom of the pool now. It’s pretty deep once he gets there. The water makes everything blurry, and his eyes sting with chlorine, but he sees Kyle clearly in front of him when he appears. His eyes are large, and he raises his eyebrows as if to intimidate Stan, but he’s smiling. The water makes his hair dance, light up with pink hues. 

All the sounds around Stan are muted, far away. He keeps himself afloat. Kyle kicks at him, then blows bubbles through his nose, and Stan can’t help but cracking a smile. Kyle is close, and he looks unreal through the water, as if from another universe, from another dimension.

Stan feels tipsy, still, and impulsive. He thinks about Romeo and Juliet. He thinks about the party inside. He knows he won’t last much longer without catching his breath. Kyle is still looking at him. 

He pushes himself forward, in an instant, swims up to Kyle and grabs his face by both sides. He presses his lips against his and kisses him, closes his eyes to fully focus on the feeling.

Kyle kisses back with little hesitation, latching onto Stan’s lips like this is what makes sense, like this is what he expected anyway. His hands grab Stan’s upper arms, fingers digging in to hold steady. Stan feels like he’s going to explode. He wants to deepen their kiss, bite into Kyle’s mouth, catch his tongue and taste him, but everything feels weightless underwater, and he can’t breathe, and Kyle gets away from him. He swims up to the surface, quick and away. Stan follows after him. 

Out of the water, he’s gasping for air, and he gets himself to the poolside. He leans on his elbows and heaves. 

“Asshole!” Kyle comes up to him, and he punches his arm lightly. 

Stan laughs, still breathless. 

“What? I outlasted you” he grins. 

Kyle scoffs, baffled.

“You totally cheated” he says. His cheeks are pink. 

“We didn’t exactly establish rules. And I proved you wrong twice” Stan says. 

“You didn’t prove shit”

“I can hold my breath for longer and kissing underwater is, in fact, possible” 

“You’re so stupid”

Kyle crosses his arms and looks away. Stan comes up to him, close close close, even though it feels treacherous. He can’t stay away, it simply feels wrong. 

“Tell me I’m right” he says below his breath. Kyle tries to suppress a smile. He looks him straight in the eye. 

“The fact that it’s possible doesn’t mean it wasn’t uncomfortable or dangerous” he challenges. 

“Well was it?” Stan retorts. Kyle is silent for a while. 

“No comment” he says then. Stan grins. 

“You’re backing down, I can tell”

“Let’s go inside, alright?” 

Kyle is shivering with the cold, and already pulling himself out of the pool. Stan follows him.

He feels dizzy. His head spins with the taste of Kyle, still on his tongue, still on his lips. He’d tasted of wine and smoke, of citrus. Most importantly, he hadn’t pushed Stan away. He’d kissed back. Stan wants to scream into the night sky. Instead, he just heads inside, after wrapping a towel around his shoulders. 

They don’t talk about it, not that night, when they lie in bed, feet tangled under the sheets, Stan’s hands woven together in front of him because he’s scared he won’t be able to control himself if he touches Kyle, and not the next day, when Sheila, Gerald and Ike come back, and Stan has dinner with them. Stan goes home that evening and sleeps in his own bed, fingertips tingling with the lack of Kyle to touch, to hold, to pull close and kiss. 

-

Stan is anxious after the party, afraid that he scared Kyle off. He doesn’t see him for 2 days after his parents have returned. It’s really not that long at all, but it feels like a lifetime, especially considering how much time they’d spent together lately, and the precarious subject of their shared kiss. 

When he does see Kyle again, he shows up at Stan’s house unannounced. Kyle doesn’t come over that often. Stan prefers going to his house because of his parents and because Kyle’s house is somewhat of a safe haven. Now, in front of him, Kyle stands in his doorway. 

“Hey dude” Stan says, after opening up for him. Kyle pushes past him, runs up the stairs. In Stan’s room, he falls on the bed, face down. Stan laughs as he enters the room.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice light. Kyle groans and it sounds muffled through the sheets. 

“Nothing. Everything. I hate Cartman”

“What did he do now?” Stan asks as he sits down on the side of the bed. 

“He was going on a Twitter rant last night. You probably didn’t see. It was so insane. He made like 200 tweets in the span of 5 minutes” Kyle says. He sits up, and starts rambling about Cartman and how bigoted and infuriating he is, and Stan smiles. He feels relieved that Kyle came to his house for something small like this, something inconsequential and meaningless. That means that they’re still them, and everything is okay, after what happened. Maybe they don’t have to address it. Maybe Stan hasn’t scared Kyle off. 

“You stress about him too much” Stan notes. Kyle grits his teeth. 

“He makes me homicidal” he answers. 

“I know” Stan pats his shoulder, feeling lame. 

“I wish I could be unbothered by things like this” 

“But being bothered by everything is your thing. You wouldn’t be you, if you didn’t care”

“Ugh” Kyle sighs. 

Stan bumps his shoulder. 

“You’re cute Kyle” he says, trying him out. Kyle looks down, at the floor, but he smiles. 

“Shut up and play me a song, or something” he mumbles. 

Stan feels his chest light up, his spine tingle with nerves. He doesn’t really play for other people that often. His guitar skills are very mediocre and he’s insecure. Kyle is no exception. Today though, Stan feels okay, and so he chuckles. 

“How polite of you” he remarks. Kyle blinks at him a couple of times, making puppy eyes. 

“Pretty please, Stanley?” he pouts. 

“Sure” Stan gives in, like he would ever deny Kyle anything. 

He gets up grabs his guitar from the corner of his room. He sits next to Kyle on the bed, facing him. Kyle bites down on his bottom lip and smiles. Stan clears his throat in a joking manner. 

“Any requests?” 

“How about Wonderwall?” Kyle grins. 

Stan strums a couple of chords from the song, making Kyle laugh.

“Seriously though, what do you wanna hear?”

“Just play me anything”

Stan thinks for a while then starts strumming a soft melody. His fingers are steady as he plays.

Don’t get hung on petty things he sings. 

String the sinner by his wings

In his head a brittle bone

The world is full of fishes

But I trust you

I trust you

He doesn’t dare to look at Kyle. He’s dying to know what his expression is like, but refuses to lock eyes with him. For some reason, he’s afraid his eyes will give him away. Eyes are the window to the soul, and all that. He plays until the song is done, then sets his guitar down on the floor. Finally, he catches Kyle’s gaze. His eyes are shiny, pretty, bright green, cheeks rosy, and his face splits with a smile. Kyle is cute when he smiles, and so Stan smiles too, inhibitions out the window.  

“So, what do you think?” he asks shyly. 

“Corny. Mediocre playing. Lackluster singer. I’ve heard better” Kyle grins. Stan kicks at him. 

“You’re a little bitch” 

Kyle falls back down on the bed, and Stan does the same. He looks over to him, and his red hair splayed against the bedsheets. He looks wistful, like he’s stuck in thought. Suddenly, he turns to Stan and buries his head against his chest, grabbing at his arms. Stan lets himself get pulled against him, feels his hands coming up to hold him. He’s on autopilot. This comes naturally to him. His fingers dust over Kyle’s shoulder blades, touching along his bones

“I liked it. Of course I liked it” Kyle murmurs against him. Stan smiles secretively. 

“Good” he whispers. 

“Don’t let it get to your head” 

“It already did” 

Stan feels brave and kisses his hair. Kyle doesn’t react much, just stays still in his arms. They lie like that for a while, until Kyle pulls back. They pass the afternoon like they usually do, and everything is painfully normal, routine lamentably undisturbed. 

-

A few days later, Kyle comes to Stan’s house again. He stands outside his door with his bicycle in his hands. 

“Can we go biking again?” he says as a greeting. Stan laughs, confused. 

“I thought you hated that shit” he remarks. 

“I lied” Kyle admits. 

Stan doesn’t hesitate, goes into his yard to grab his bike and takes it around to meet Kyle. He doesn’t have to ask his parents for permission. He just starts biking. 

They take a different route than last time. The sun beams down on them and Stan feels hot. Kyle is wearing white socks slightly too loose, and they slip down his ankles. He bikes fast in front of him, white blouse catching the wind. They go through the woods, past lakes and river meanders. They get to a clearing after about an hour of biking. 

They fall down in the grass, the two of them. Stan looks over at Kyle, thinks about Tolkien’s party, Kyle’s hands coming up to hold him as he’d kissed him, sweetly, softly, exactly like he’d hoped he would. 

Stan wants to speak but finds himself interrupted by sudden rain as it pours down on them. The sky is dark gray, a complete turnaround from the weather that was beautiful and bright, not even a second ago. Stan sits up. 

“Crap, maybe we should find shelter somewhere. Or just bike back” he says to Kyle. The other shrugs. 

“It’s fine. It’s still hot out. I mean - I don’t mind the rain” he says. Stan’s hair falls in his face as it grows wet.

“Okay, no, me neither”

Kyle looks up, inspects the sky above him. 

“Sometimes the sky needs to pour out. It’s been building up this whole time” he says, and it sounds like a confession. 

“Aren’t you worried about your precious hair?” Stan teases. Kyle laughs but only slightly,  half-heartedly. His lips look shiny from the rain.  

“It’ll be fine” 

They’re quiet for a while, and Stan closes his eyes as the rainfall pours down on him. The crickets sing and the trees move with the wind. Kyle shifts, next to him. 

“You kissed me Stan” he says, matter-of-factly. Stan swallows thickly. He knew in the back of his mind that they couldn’t leave it unspoken for long, even if he’d hoped they could. He mentally prepares for rejection. 

“Yeah. I did” 

Kyle looks over at him, puzzled. 

“Did you - why did you do that?” he asks. He sounds so genuinely confused, and that makes Stan feel like crying.  

“Because I wanted to” he insists. 

Kyle nods, like he’s trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle. 

“Would it be crazy if I told you I like you?” he whispers then. Stan can barely hear him over the rain. He catches his eyes, shakes his head. 

“I wouldn’t think so” 

Kyle bites his lip, folds his fingers together. 

“I mean like. I want you to do that more often. Kiss me” he admits. Stan feels his heart flutter. He hadn’t exactly prepared for this. He wants to sink into the ground, get swallowed up by the earth. He wants to pull Kyle close. 

“You do?” he asks. Kyle nods. 

“I do. I like you dude. Not just as your best friend. Like I have a crush on you and I think you should know”

“Oh”

They don’t speak for a while. Kyle drums his fingers against his bare knees, and Stan plays with the grass. He lets everything sink in for a moment, then feels genuinely baffled over the fact that he’s not kissing Kyle right this moment. What is he waiting for? Maybe he can’t believe this is real. He’s had vivid dreams before. 

“Yeah, so. I’m sorry. I know that’s stupid. You probably just kissed me as a joke” Kyle starts to say, and Stan feels stupid. He needs to be brave right now. Kyle is doubting himself because of him, and that’s the last thing he wants. He takes a deep breath. 

“You know I’m in love with you, right?” he says then. Kyle’s eyes widen. 

“Dude, what?” he exclaims. 

“Yeah” Stan nods. 

“Jesus christ. Oh fuck, okay” 

Kyle leans forwards then, catches Stan before Stan can catch him. He kisses Stan, hard. His hands get lost in his hair, pull at his clothes, claw at his jaw, his shoulders. Stan hums contently at the touch. He feels so warm, so good, dripping with the summer rain. Kyle kisses so eagerly, just the way Stan likes it, so sweet and so so good to him. His tongue swipes his bottom lip and Stan opens up for him. Kyle tastes like honey, like summer fruits, like smoke and like the rain. Stan can’t get enough from him, doesn’t want to but needs to pull back, if only to catch his breath. Kyle pushes his wet hair back from his forehead. 

“I love you too” he heaves, smile so wide it should hurt. Stan mirrors his expression. He feels over-the-moon happy. He feels like kissing Kyle forever and ever. 

“Yeah?” 

His hands are still on Kyle’s waist. Kyle holds his shoulders. 

“Yeah” he confirms. Stan beams. 

“Tell me again” he whispers. 

“I love you. I’m in love with you” Kyle says. He looks so sure, like this is a universal truth, like this is a fact he’s observing about the world. 

“Fuck dude” Stan murmurs, and it’s the last thing he says before kissing Kyle again. He feels amazing, cold and shivering, drenched from the rain, but so, so warm where Kyle touches him. He could spend the whole day like this, the whole summer, the rest of his life, with Kyle at his side, in his arms, completely and entirely his.