Work Text:
Their senior year was coming to an end and the spring air hung lightly within the breeze. The days were longer and the sun shined brightly, bees buzzed and flowers sprung. People talked cheerfully in the halls about their plans for the summer, what colleges they were going to, what holidays they were doing. Everyone was happy… apart from Stan. The sky was cheery but Stan was miserable, he still wore his sweaters and hung his head low. Bitterness swelled in his stomach watching people talk to their friend-groups making vague plans for their summer. In his defence, he wasn’t just miserable to be miserable. Him and Kyle had just broken up… well… broken up was a difficult term. It felt like a break up but they weren’t exactly together. They’d kiss and do whatever, hold each other after and hang out one on one but they weren’t together.
Yet they fought like they were. This wasn’t the first time they had fought either, typically they’d fight over things like Stan not being able to have a deep conversation while sober, Kyle not being able to talk about his feelings, Stan refusing to commit and Kyle focusing far too much on school work. But this time was different, it started with them watching a stupid movie where a character refused to say the word ‘i love you’, it brought up a conversation about them, what they were, what they are. Stan stated he liked how they were, but Kyle had his objections believing they should be more. What started as bickering turned into a full screaming mate, where tears fell embarrassingly down Stan’s cheeks and Kyle looked at him stone cold. They decided to end it, nothing they hadn’t done before but this time was different. There was no phone call, no knock at the window, there was nothing. They were over.
It had sent Stan completely spiralling, everyday felt as if it dragged on, his body held down by chains he couldn't shake off. Kyle was everywhere, in his thoughts and in his dream and unfortunately with his friends. They hadn’t spoken to each other since their fight and their friend group was finding it hard to navigate the two. Stan took it into his own hands to ignore everyone and wallow in his own self pity and sadness. So, while everyone else in his English class laughed and joked, he begrudgingly walked to the back of the class to sit in the corner, not even trying to enjoy the way the sun warmed his cheeks and highlighted the room. Kyle was already in the class, Stan couldn’t help but stare with a scowl. How the hell did Kyle seem so unbothered, it was like they weren’t even friends! Stan wore his heart on his sleeve, regrettably, but Kyle kept on as if it was normal. His nose was stuck in a book, scribbling stuff down with his pencil. His stupid hands held his stupid pencil and his stupid eyes narrowed and his nose scrunched, his go to sign that showed he was confused. Stupid. Stupidstupidstupid.
Stan was already clocked out when the lesson had begun, only vaguely hearing how their teacher had read some of the poetry the class had written for their most recent assignment, expressing her disappointment in nearly everyone. Stan couldn’t have cared less, he used to care a lot about school work but what did he have to care about now? He rolled his eyes as she kept on, frustratingly going back over the examples she had given before. He stared out the window, watching how the sun made the trees golden, birds chirping and flying to each other through the trees. Disgusting! He only began to pay attention when he heard her sigh and announce, “Kyle read your poem to the class.”
Stan watched as Kyle shot up, his face draining of all colour as he sputtered clearly embarrassed.
“What?”
“You’re the only one who actually listened, and if my examples aren’t enough maybe they should hear from someone within the class.” She huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose in her chair.
Stan rolled his eyes, of course it was Kyle who was the best in the class.
“I’d really rather not” He cleared his throat, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Stan hated his hands so much, now his eyes fixed on him. Kyle was so pretentious, he wrote an ‘amazing’ poem and is now acting all shy and coy about it.
“Kyle just get up here” She ordered, Stan wondered if they really just hired anyone to teach at South Park. Admittedly, he felt a little bad watching Kyle grab his book and walk up to the front of the class, his hands shook a little, head hung low and his red curls hung over those bright green eyes. He watched Kyle take a shaky breath, eyes fixed on the book as he opened it and flipped it to the right page, people watched him intensely as if his poem would give them they’re own epiphany about how to write.
“I hate-” he started, but his voice cut off with a sharp inhale before he sighed loudly, “This is dumb, I don’t see why I have to-” he began to protest but was quickly shut up by their teacher, he turned back to his book with tightened grip and his face grew red. Stan smiled a little, he knew Kyle’s face grew out at the embarrassment of being told off by their teacher. Try hard. He probably wrote about something gay, like global warming or something like that. Stan began to doodle on in his notebook so it at least looked like he was taking notes. “I hate the way you talk to me” Kyle began, his voice holding surprisingly still but with a hint of anger, he was clearly mad he had to read this out loud and wanted it done as quick as possible. “And the way you cut your hair, I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare.”
Wait, what?
Stan looked back up to see Kyle, who was looking away from the class through the corner of his eyes as he read. Stan furrowed his brows as.. No, Kyle wouldn’t have written this about him, right? Kyle showed no care for their ‘break up’, even in the fight he just seemed angry and annoyed. But he knew Kyle did hate how he drove his car, Stan would drive too fast and Kyle would laugh and beg him to slow down. ‘I hate it when you do this!’ he’d laugh as Stan would slow down, taking the new gentleness to admire Kyle’s laughter. Then there was his hair… Kyle always had something to say about it, either that he needed to get it cut professionally so it wasn't so shaggy or that he needed a serious root touch up as the dark hair began to dirty the blonde that he had bleached it to. But Kyle wouldn't have written this about him.
“I hate your ripped dumb trainers”
Yeah this was about him.
“And the way you read my mind”
Stan bit his lip, suddenly feeling quite sick. Kyle read angrily and it was no secret they had a falling out, it was equally no secret they were something a bit more than friends. So avoiding each other like plague had caused quite the stir, Stan could faintly hear the whispers and see eye contact between students who equally knew it was about Stan. He felt embarrassed, Kyle was up here talking about everything he hated about Stan and it was rather humiliating. Great. Now everyone knows that Kyle never actually liked Stan.
“I hate you so much it makes me sick: it even makes me rhyme” Then Kyle paused to take a breath, Stan furrowed his brows and he could have sworn Kyle briefly met his eyes before shooting back down to his book. Stan saw his shoulders shake a little as he breathed in, “I hate it-” he stopped, drawing a shaky breath and Stan felt his gaze soften. Kyle was about to cry. Shit. Suddenly his anger and betrayal that Kyle decided to shit talk him in front of everyone faded and was replaced with pity. Holy shit, Kyle was sad, Stan suddenly understood that while he wore his heart on his sleeve Kyle may have been equally torn up over their fight.
“I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie” Kyle’s tone has drawn softer, and Stan began to realise that maybe this wasn't the diss he thought it was. His heart ached, the numb feeling spreading over his body as he had to fight the urge to run to him. “I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry-”
Stan inhaled and held his breath as he saw the tear that fell down his cheek before he quickly wiped it away, biting his lip as his face flushed in embarrassment. Stan hasn’t seen Kyle cry since they were kids, crying as he cut his knee open on the playground. It was weird, he knew Kyle felt things a little differently, he repressed and held everything in. His parents were quite tough on him but he shined under the pressure. He struggled to hide any other emotion that wasn’t sadness, and here he was. Crying in front of the class, Stan knew he was kicking himself.
“I hate it when you’re not around and the fact you didn’t call” the guilt began to consume him, fighting every muscle in his body to not get up there and hug him tightly, kiss him and tell him how much he loved him. Loved? Shit. God, this was bad. Stan felt it too, he hated when Kyle wasn’t around, it was like a part of his body was missing, he understood how Adam felt without his rib before Eve. A part of his soul was gone, and he sat around his phone waiting for Kyle to text him but it never came. He began to regret both their stubbornness, neither of them wanted to be the one to break up but it was now clear to Stan that Kyle did want him to break it.
“But mostly I hate the fact I don't hate you. Not even a little bit.” Stan wanted to scream how he didn’t hate him either, not even noticing how his own eyes began to blur with slight tears as the heartbreak consumed his body. He had never seen Kyle so.. So raw and emotional. “Not even at all.” Kyle had barely finished his sentence before he practically ran back to his seat. The class awkwardly clapped, not really knowing how to react as Kyle hung his head low in an attempt to hide himself. Even their teacher seemed a little guilty, clearing her throat and saying thank you before going back to talking about poetry. She dismissed the class with an order to rewrite their assignment for everyone except Kyle. Kyle barely waited for the bell to finish before he left the classroom in a hurry.
Shit.
-
It took him a while to decide what to say, what to do, it took him so long that the sun had begun to set. Eventually, Stan made the way to Kyle’s house with the promise to listen rather than jump on the defensive. The climbing to Kyle’s window was second nature, it was autopilot as he climbed the side of his garage before wandering over to his window, tapping three times. He held his breath and bit his cheek, anxiously waiting for Kyle to open his curtains. He considered running away, fucking all the hyping up he had just done but then the curtains opened and Kyle glared at him as if he expected him. Stan put his hands together, signalling to Kyle ‘please, please let me in’.
He watched Kyle roll his eyes before opening his window.
“What?” he snapped, his voice cold but for once Stan didn’t really care. He had rehearsed this, he knew what to say and how to act, he was going to give a long speech about his honest true feelings.
Except he said, “I liked your poem”
“Oh fuck off!”
“No! Please-” Stan protested as Kyle went to shut his window, reaching his hand out so if Kyle were to shut it he’d have to slam it on Stan’s arm. Maybe that wasn’t the best idea considering how angry Kyle seemed but it did make him stop, silently signalling Stan to get into his room. Stan crawled in, landing on Kyle’s bed and getting a look at the comforting surroundings. Kyle’s room was too neat, it was clear he had been cleaning it nearly obsessively to distract himself from his own head. His room smelt of a vanilla candle that he had let on his desk. The two sat in silence for a moment, Kyle’s bed was soft and softly lit, his books laid on his desk and Stan felt a little bad that he had disturbed his studying. “... I really did like your poem” Stan broke the silence, Kyle groaned and put his head in his hands.
“I didn’t know I was going to have to read it out loud. If i knew that i would have written it on mother nature or something” He groaned, embarrassingly keeping his head in his hands. They went back to silence for a short moment before Stan broke it once again.
“I’m sorry” He began, Kyle’s head still held in his hands, “you were right, I, I drink too much and can’t even commit to a sport, hell i can barely commit to my own diet” He fiddled with his hands, it felt weird admitting his own faults. He knew he had an issue with his drinking but still admitting it was something new, same with his commitment. He never could commit to a club or a sport, he could barely commit to being a vegetarian. He didn’t eat meat but he barely cared about cross-contamination or the fact that marshmallows weren’t vegetarian safe. “I didn’t mean what I said about you, I know you’re working hard and-” he stopped when he realised Kyle began to shake, his breathing quickened and he noticed that for the second time today Kyle had begun to cry. This time he didn’t wait, reaching out and pulling Kyle into his chest. It was a little awkward because Stan’s first and only growth spurt left him a few inches shorter than Kyle, but Kyle basically fell onto his chest, grabbing his jumper as if it was his only life line. The gentle shaking had turned into sobbing that broke Stan’s heart. He held him tight like how Kyle had done for him so many times, rubbing the back of his head and his back.
“I’m- I’m sorry- I’m Sorry!” He sobbed, and Stan shushed him by saying it’s okay. “I’m just- so sick of everything being so uncertain” he finally admittedly, “I just keep my head down and get my work done, but it’s never enough, I got into a good college but it’s not good enough-” Stan rest his head on top of Kyle’s as he listened to his rant, “I don't even know how I’m going to cope living alone, in a new city, away from all my friends and- and you- and you cant even tell me what we are but I can't even tell you what we are!” he cried, “We kiss, we fuck, and fuck I don't even know who I am” Stan didn’t speak, just gently rubbed his back as he ranted. Eventually Kyle’s breathing slowed and he had begun to settle himself. They didn't talk for a moment, Stan letting Kyle ride out the wave until he was ready to speak again, “I think I’m gay”
Stan could have told him that. Kyle always stood out in the group with his lack of understanding of crushes and women, he always awkwardly made a comment when someone would ask his opinion on a woman’s body to a point where it was a little cute. But Stan knew Kyle had a lot of expectations, especially from his family, it was almost a need to be the perfect son.
“Okay” Stan said quietly, his voice trying to comfort him, “That’s okay”
“And I think I'm in love with you.”
Neither of them spoke, Kyle not daring to look at Stan’s face. At this moment all Stan wanted to do was to kiss him, to say it’s okay, but he figured it was a bit inappropriate. Instead he kissed his hair, rubbing his back up and down slowly dragging his nails up Kyle’s shirt.
“Me too” he added barely above a whisper, “I think I love you too”
They stayed in silence for a moment, but eventually Kyle lifted himself up to meet Stan face to face. Stan finally got to admire his face, his sharp jaw and pointed nose, sculpted by the Greek gods themselves. His green eyes stared into his heart, heavy lidded and sharp, Stan knew this look all too well, it was a look of need and desperation. So it was no surprise when Kyle kissed him. His lips were rough against his own, the clashing of lips as Stan wrapped his arms around Kyle’s shoulders to pull him close. Kyle’s own hands held onto the back of Stan’s neck. Stan felt his body grow hot as Kyle held him as if he was a blanket and Kyle was cold, as if their bodies physically needed to be this close. They wrapped their bodies around each other, but their kiss grew from passionate and needy to slow and gentle, the grip Kyle had on Stan’s shirt slowly loosened, slowly going up to gently hold the back of Stan’s neck. They only pulled away when they both needed to breathe, resting their forehead against each other’s. The only noise was their heavy breathing, looking into each other’s eyes.
“I really don’t want to leave you.” Kyle mumbled. Stan rolled his eyes, his stomach did drop a little at the thought but he decided to ignore that for today, pulling Kyle down so they could lay next to each other.
“You are not skipping out on the choice to go to college and leave south park for me, we’ll figure something out” He shrugged, spinning a curl on Kyle’s head between his finger, “Let’s not talk about it for now”
There was still a lot left in the air, they had a lot to discuss. But for now they were going to lay on Kyle’s bed in each other's arms loving each other the best way they know how. They’d talk about stuff and Kyle would laugh, Stan would make a comment about how ‘I thought you hated when I made you laugh?’ Kyle would laugh again, jab Stan in the side and they’d laugh together.
Together.
The way they were always meant to be.