Chapter Text
Kyle sat with his back pressed against the wall, his knee suddenly didn't hurt at all with the presence of a knife in front of him. Wendy had never seemed threatening before, she was short and petite, she didn't speak much and when she did it was always friendly. The woman looming over him at that moment felt like an entirely different person.
“What?” He whispered, staring at the culinary knife in her hand.
“Wendy,” Stan sighed, walking around the couch and placing a hand on her shoulder, “you need to relax,” he said softly near her ear.
“What's going on?” Kyle asked a little louder, his voice shaking. The energy in the room was suffocating, the way Wendy was looking down at him with pure hatred made his spine tingle. Did she find out Stan kissed me? He couldn't think of any other reason she would be mad at him.
“Baby,” Stan cooed in her ear, slowly trailing his hand down her arm before gently pulling the knife out of her grasp, “Kyle didn't do anything.”
Kyle slowly stood up, sliding his back up the wall as he watched them, “what did you say to them?” Her voice made him freeze, it didn't even sound like the girl he'd known for almost five years.
“What?” Kyle felt like what was all he even knew how to say anymore.
“Sit down,” Stan whispered to Wendy, guiding her to the couch. She sat down, keeping her eyes narrowed and glued to Kyle. Stan patted her on the head with a soft chuckle before turning and walking over to Kyle, “it's okay,” he whispered in the redhead's ear, “just sit down, we'll talk it all out.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Kyle snapped when Stan put an arm around his waist, he jolted away and stared up at Stan's face, “what the fuck is going on Stan?”
“You need to calm down,” he smiled, “everything is okay,” the calm, friendly look on his face was uncanny in a way Kyle couldn't understand. It felt like he was looking at someone wearing Stan’s skin as a mask and speaking with his voice, but it wasn't Stan.
“I, I need to go,” Kyle mumbled, starting to walk towards the door. He was stopped by Stan’s hand grabbing his arm so tightly it made his muscle spasm beneath his friends palm, “ow, fuck, Stan that hurts.”
“You need to stay,” he said slowly, “please.”
“Kyle,” Wendy sighed, “what did you tell the police?”
“The police? I, I don't,” he looked over at her then back to Stan, “about what?”
“They went to Wendy's house looking for me,” Stan said, his grip unrelenting on Kyle's arm, “it seems like they're under the impression I have something to do with those murders.”
“Why would they think that?” Kyle frowned, trying to pull his arm away, “obviously I wouldn't say anything like that, what the fuck?”
“Because you're jealous,” Stan said sadly, “I, I know how you feel about me Kyle,” he loosened his grasp and Kyle got his arm free, “I've known and I've tried to ignore it,” suddenly Stan grabbed Kyle's hips and pulled him flush against his chest, “but it's okay, I'm not mad at you for being upset with me for being with Wendy.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Kyle pushed away from him, “I, Stan what the fuck? Look I don't know what is wrong with you two, I only told Marcus about Cartman okay? I don't even think he did it either, and,” he backed up and knitted his brows, “fuck you,” he pointed at Stan, “stop touching me, stop being fucking weird, I know you didn't fucking murder anyone Stan. I wouldn't lie about that because you have a girlfriend.”
“Why did you tell them about me then?” Wendy asked, crossing her arms, “there is no reason to bring me up to the police, do you know how scary it is to have five police officers show up at your house and tell you your boyfriend is a suspect in a serial killer case?”
“I didn't tell them anything about you,” Kyle said before immediately remembering that wasn't true, “wait, no, Marcus asked about you,” he backed up again, inching closer to the door, “he had a picture of you and asked if I knew who you were. That's the only time I said anything about you.”
“Great,” Wendy crossed her legs as well, huffing.
“It's going to be fine, there's obviously no way anyone can actually prove I killed anyone,” Stan said softly.
“So Wendy's fine?” Kyle asked quietly, “she's obviously not missing. Did you tell the police they don't have to look for her?”
“Mhm,” Stan hummed, stepping towards him, “why don't you sit down with us, I think we-”
“I'm gonna go, Stan,” Kyle cut him off, walking backwards towards the door, “I need to think about a lot of shit, you, you're freaking me out.”
“What do you mean?” Stan kept moving towards him, “what's wrong?”
“You fucking kissed me Stan,” Kyle felt like his panic attack was coming back just mentioning it, “you, you said you know how I feel? I, I don't want anything like that with you okay? You're my friend, I care about you, but you're scaring me, okay? I get that things are stressful and shit, but I need to leave.”
“Kyle, I'm sorry,” Stan said sadly, getting between Kyle and the door, “I was just freaking out and I shouldn't have done that.”
“Freaking out about what?” Kyle asked skeptically, “because before you told me Wendy was missing, but she obviously isn't. Is it because of the police? You don't need to freak out about that, obviously they won't arrest an innocent man, Marcus wouldn't do that.”
“Okay, I'm sorry,” Stan sighed, leaning against the door, “I lied and I shouldn't have done that, I told you I'd be more honest with you. I just needed you here, I need you Kyle. You're my best friend.”
“And you're my best friend, but right now I think you're,” he paused and tried to figure out what to even say, “I don't know, you're acting weird. You're scaring me and I think we both need to take a minute to-”
“Kyle,” Stan sighed out his name, “are you just leaving to go back to fucking Craig?”
“Excuse me?” He furrowed his brow.
“That's all you care about now, right?” Stan frowned, “it used to be me, but now it's him?”
“Just stop, stop,” Kyle felt uncomfortable and trapped, he just wanted to leave, “I don't know what the hell is going on with you right now, but-”
“No, I'm serious,” Stan said sternly, “you loved me, I was the most important person in you're whole fucking life, then all of a sudden it's that guy? What the fuck is even so great about him? What could possibly make him better than me?”
“I,” Kyle looked over his shoulder at Wendy, she was just sitting there watching silently, “I, I used to… have feelings for you,” he admitted quietly as he turned back to Stan, “but you're straight and my best friend, so obviously it was never going to happen. I, you told me to find someone? You kept pestering me about getting a boyfriend, I don't understand why it's suddenly a problem.”
“I didn't have a problem with your other boyfriends,” Stan shrugged, “I don't like how quickly you clung to this guy, it's too fast Kyle. It's toxic.”
“You don't even-”
“And you didn't answer me, what's so great about him that you all of a sudden don't want me?” Stan's eyes narrowed and Kyle stared at him for a moment.
“Wait, are, are you jealous? Of Craig?” Kyle wilted a little, that made no sense. Nothing made any sense and his head was pounding just as hard as his chest was.
“Fucking answer me,” Stan stood up straight, looking down at Kyle with dark eyes.
“Stan,” Wendy sighed from the couch, “just give it up, he doesn't love you anymore.”
“Are you in love with Craig?” Stan asked as he stepped into Kyle's space.
“N-no,” he shook his head, “I mean, I, I like him a lot. He's sweet and he cares about me. I, he makes me happy.”
“He wants to take you away from me,” Stan’s voice was gruff. Kyle turned to Wendy, silently begging her for help, she sighed and stood up.
“Stan, you need to calm down,” she walked over to them with her arms still crossed, “you're acting ridiculous.”
“You're acting ridiculous!” He shouted at her, “you want to hurt him, but we don't have to!”
“Babe,” she growled out, “stop.”
“Don't fucking babe me,” Stan focused his gaze on his girlfriend, “you brought out a fucking knife! Why would you need a knife to talk to Kyle?”
“He betrayed you,” she shrugged.
“And what? You're going to kill him about it?” Stan scoffed, “yeah, that will really get the fucking police off our case. You're the one acting irrationally.”
“Excuse me for being scared,” she whispered petulantly, “I don't know why you even kept him around this long.”
Kyle stood there silently watching, trying desperately to understand what was even happening. He felt like he was drowning, the room was filling with freezing water and he couldn't breathe or move.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Stan got up in her face, “what's your problem all of a sudden?”
“It doesn't matter,” she backed up a little, “I just think you're looking at this wrong.”
With the couple arguing right in front of the only exit, Kyle was stuck. Unsure what else to do he awkwardly crept away towards the hallway, “where are you going?” Stan asked, looking past Wendy and straight into Kyle's eyes.
“The toilet, I'll be back in a second,” he turned and quickly made his way into the bathroom and locked the door behind himself. A lot of what they were saying made it seem like they could be involved with the murders, but that was impossible. Stan couldn't do that, he could never brutalize people that way. Kyle pulled his phone out of his pocket and bit his lip, he wanted to call someone but he wasn't sure who to pick.
His immediate thought was Craig, but bringing Craig to the apartment would make things worse if Kyle had to guess. He had no clue what was going on with Stan, it almost felt like Stan was expressing some kind of romantic interest in him. Almost. There was something off in the way he spoke about it, the way he kept touching Kyle, it didn't feel natural and it certainly didn't feel good. Either way, Stan clearly did not like Craig and was already in a hard to understand mood.
Kyle's second thought was Marcus, but would calling the police be any better? At least with the police Stan wouldn't do something stupid like start a fight like he might with Craig. Kyle stared at his phone as he realized those were the only two people he could realistically call to help him out of whatever was going on in his living room. Kenny was in South Park, he didn't have any of Craig's friends numbers, and calling his boss felt like it would just be stupid.
Time was moving though, and eventually Stan and Wendy would notice he'd been gone for a while. So Kyle let go of his reservations and dialed Marcus, standing as far away from the door as he could. The call rang once, then twice, then a third time. Kyle was terrified he wasn't going to answer, it felt like fear was the only thing he could feel at the moment.
“Detective Preston, how can I help you?” Kyle breathed out a gasp of air he'd been holding in, “hello?”
“Yes, hi, s-sorry,” Kyle whispered into the phone, “look, uh, I don't know what's going on okay? It probably isn't as big of a deal as I, I think I'm making it out to be in my head.”
“To the point please,” Marcus sighed, he sounded so unbelievably exhausted and it only made Kyle feel worse about wasting his time.
“Stan, uh, Stan and Wendy are arguing and, and they're being weird,” he whispered quietly, horrified they were outside the door listening to him, “she, she had a knife and Stan said, he, he said she wanted to hurt me. They, they said you questioned her or-”
“That's enough Broflovski, where are you?”
“I'm, I'm at my apartment,” he mumbled, feeling trembles run through his body. The more he thought about the series of events that had just happened to him the more it cemented how badly he wanted to get away. He'd never felt so trapped before. It was especially daunting because Stan had always been a source of safety and comfort, he didn't know what to do or how to feel.
“Okay, I'm coming down there,” Marcus said softly, “are you with them currently?”
“I'm, uh, hiding,” he paused, feeling like a child, “in the bathroom.”
“Good, stay there and don't get out.”
“Why?” Kyle asked quietly.
“Just stay in the bathroom and stay on the phone with me, okay?” Marcus sounded serious yet soft, speaking in a way that wasn't threatening but clearly showed he was the one in control.
“Kyle?” Stan knocked at the door, “you okay?”
“Oh, uh, ye-yeah,” he called back, “um, I think I have a stomach ache.”
“Don't tell them you're on the phone with me,” Marcus was making quite a bit of noise on his end of the call and it was making Kyle's hairs stand on end. He felt like it was loud enough Stan could probably hear it, though it definitely wasn't.
“Well Wend's and I are about to head out,” Stan said back through the door, “I guess I'll see you later, don't need to hug you goodbye while you're taking a shit,” he chuckled.
“Oh, uh, you're leaving?”
“They're leaving?” Marcus repeated with haste.
“Yeah, Wendy's hungry so we're gonna get some dinner,” Stan's voice was a little further away as if he was already walking down the hall away from the bathroom.
“They’re leaving to get food,” Kyle whispered so quietly he was unsure if Marcus could even understand him.
“Stay in the bathroom,” he ordered.
Kyle did as he was told, standing in the bathroom for seven minutes before Marcus told him over the phone he had pulled into the parking lot of the building. He waited another three minutes before Marcus said he was at the front door. Kyle slowly crept out of the bathroom and made his way to Marcus, finding no sign of Wendy or Stan in the apartment.
“I need to know exactly what happened,” Marcus said as Kyle opened the door. Behind the detective was three police officers, all of them looking like they were on high alert.
“Is, is Stan seriously a suspect?” Kyle asked, staring at the guns in the officer's hands.
“He’s one of my main suspects,” Marcus said in almost sad tone, probably sensing just how badly Kyle did not want to hear that answer, “can we come in?”
“Oh, ye-yeah,” he nodded slowly and backed away from the door so the police could come in.
“Do you mind if they take a look around the apartment? We haven't gotten a warrant yet, but if you give us permission they can take a look.”
“You're, you're in the process of getting a warrant to search our apartment?” Kyle's heart was down deep in his stomach, his body felt like it was slowly shutting down so he forced his way to the couch to collapse on it.
“Yes,” Marcus nodded, “can we take a look? You're allowed to say no, it's your right.”
“I, um,” he stared up at the detective, who looked extremely blurry for some reason, “but,” Stan probably wouldn't want that, and with that thought Kyle's vision went black as he passed out. It was too much, he couldn't do it anymore, his body and mind just checked out and Kyle fainted from the stress and anxiety.
Kyle woke up with a jolt, Marcus was kneeling in front of him and the other three police officers were all standing there looking down at him, “you okay?” Marcus asked softly, “you went out for a couple minutes.”
“What the fuck is going on!?” Kyle panicked, not loving that everything that just happened had been real. A part of his mind really expected to wake up in Craig's dorky childhood bedroom, surrounded by band posters and glow in the dark stars. It was supposed to be a bad dream, but it wasn't. Stan really was a genuine suspect in Heidi’s murder. In all of the murders. That couldn't be real though, it couldn't be.
“We came because you called us, remember?” Marcus was speaking in a calm, even tone and staying at eye level to Kyle. He was kneeling down in front of him, but not too close to invade his personal space. Kyle nodded, feeling his eyes burn with tears he didn't want to let fall, “I need you to tell me what happened to make you call me.”
“I, I was in Boulder with Craig,” Kyle started after a moment, his voice sounded so foreign in his ears. That broken, shaky voice hardly even registered as his own, “Stan called me and texted me a bunch, but, but I missed them because I, I didn't have my ph-phone on me,” he was trying so hard not to cry.
“What did Stan want?” Marcus asked as Kyle steadied his breathing.
“He, he said Wendy was missing,” Kyle frowned, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them. He felt a slight pain in his right knee that proved he really had slammed it against the coffee table earlier, “he said she went out last night,” he whispered into his knees, “he hadn't seen her, he, he didn't outright say he thought she was murdered,” Kyle added with a swallow, “but, but it was implied.”
Kyle sat silently for a moment, holding back his tears while the four men in his apartment kept their mouths shut. He could hardly even focus on them as he recollected the last couple hours of his day. Kyle took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Craig drove me back here so I could make sure Stan was okay, and, and Stan said he called you to report Wendy missing so I didn't think I should also call. I, I didn't want to bother you,” he whimpered as a sob tried to break free, “I just wanted to make sure he was okay, he sounded so scared. I, he was so scared,” Kyle choked quietly, tightening in on himself, “he was crying and I held him for so long while he cried.”
Kyle sat there with his eyes shut tight, hoping with all his might that the next time he opened them it had all been a dream. Maybe he'd wake up in Craig's arms and the ravenette would tease him for falling asleep when they had been making out. Or maybe Craig never existed at all, he'd wake up back in his old bedroom and his entire adult life had been a long and vivid nightmare. When Kyle did open his eyes he saw Marcus, the detective looking at him solemnly. It wasn't a nightmare, well it was, but not one he cooked up inside his own mind.
“But Wendy was here,” his voice broke and the sobs finally won him over, for a few minutes he sat there crying in front of a bunch of police men. Kyle felt so small and hopeless, lost and confused. Stan couldn't be a murderer, he couldn't be, “this isn't real!” He snapped, his throat burned as the words tore through him. For a second he wasn't even sure he was the one who yelled.
“Is it okay if I go to your kitchen and get you a glass of water?” Marcus asked, watching Kyle's face with sympathy.
“Yeah,” he breathed out, holding his legs so tight he was sure he was bruising himself through his jeans. Kyle watched through teary vision as Marcus stood up and walked into the kitchen, once he was behind the wall Kyle let his head fall forward onto his knees. Everything felt better with his eyes closed, lost in darkness.
“Here,” Marcus said, pulling Kyle out of the void he let himself drift away into for a few moments. When he looked up Marcus was holding a plain green mug filled with water, Kyle slowly took it and sipped at the drink.
“Wendy wasn't missing,” Kyle said after he finished the water, he wasn't sure how long it had even taken him to drink it. It could have been a few seconds or maybe even a half an hour, nothing felt real.
“No, we went to her apartment this morning,” Marcus confirmed, “she was perfectly safe.”
“She said you told her Stan was a suspect,” Kyle let the mug fall out of his hand and onto the floor, the plastic made a clunk against the hardwood. It didn't break, but that was probably because it fell in slow motion. At least it looked like it did.
“We did,” Marcus nodded, “I wanted to see what she would do,” he sighed and sat down on the floor, “she mostly did what I expected, went to Stan with the information.”
“Why do you think Stan did anything?” He asked quietly, looking at his knees instead of at the detective, “Stan couldn't do any of that, he, I've known him my entire life,” Kyle frowned as hot tears refused to stop rolling down his face, “I would have noticed if he was a fucking murderer.”
“Unfortunately I can't tell you,” Marcus sighed, “all I can say right now, is that Stan is a suspect. He's not getting arrested, we aren't actively pursuing him, but he is under investigation.”
“Stan didn't,” Kyle bit his lip, “he didn't kill anyone.”
“Can you tell me what happened today, Kyle?” Marcus asked after a beat, “you came home, Stan was crying, when did Wendy show up?”
“She, Stan,” Kyle swallowed, even after drinking water his throat felt so dry and itchy, “Stan cried and then, then he k-kissed me for some reason,” he scrunched up his face, “I didn't want him to, he, he kept,” his breath hitched and his eyes poured out heavier tears, “I had, I panicked, I don't know, an anxiety attack or something. And, and when I calmed down again Wendy was just standing there.”
“Was she in the apartment before you arrived?” Marcus asked, his voice was even and patient. He wasn't rushing Kyle to answer quickly, just patiently sitting there waiting for a response when Kyle was ready.
“I don't know, maybe,” he shrugged, “she, she was holding a knife though.”
“She threatened you?” Marcus's face contorted slightly, like he was doing everything in his power not to physically react, but struggling to contain it.
“Not really, I don't know, she was just holding it by her hip,” Kyle leaned back against the couch, “it was scary, but she wasn't pointing it at me. Stan took it away from her, I don't know what he did with it.”
“Did you feel threatened?”
“Yeah,” he whispered, “and after the fact Stan said she wanted to hurt me,” Kyle bit his bottom lip so hard he tasted blood, “I don't know what was going on between them, but they both didn't feel right. Like, they looked like Stan and Wendy, but they were completely different people.”
“When did you go to the bathroom to call me?” Marcus asked after a long stint of silence between them.
“I tried to leave the apartment,” Kyle whispered, “but Stan was blocking the door, I, I felt trapped. I just, I wanted someone to come get me.”
“And after you hid in the bathroom they suddenly left?” Marcus looked up at the ceiling, clearly thinking over everything Kyle had told him.
“I guess,” he sighed, hesitantly letting go of his legs with one hand to wipe away his drying tears, “they left.”
“I'm going to ask one more time, but is it okay if we take a look around the apartment?” Marcus's voice was soft and even, it didn't reek of desperation for Kyle to say yes or a sternness that made him feel like he had to agree. Kyle thought for a moment before responding.
“Yeah, there won't be anything to find,” he shrugged, “you can do whatever you want.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled softly as he stood up again, “check every room,” he said to the other officers. They split up and started searching for who knows what while Kyle sat on the couch staring blankly at the wall across from him. He felt his phone vibrate against his hip and picked it up on autopilot.
“Hello,” he murmured hoarsely into the phone, not bothering to check who had even called him.
“Is everything okay?” It was Craig's voice, his concerned voice playing softly in Kyle's ear.
“No,” he answered honestly, tone dry.
“Has, uh, any word on… Wendy?” He asked hesitantly.
“Can you, can you just come back,” Kyle sighed, “I can't explain this over the phone.”
“Of course, I'll be there in a couple minutes.”
Kyle stared at the wall until Craig arrived, the second time he explained everything that had happened after he parted ways with Craig he didn't cry. He felt robotic and emotionless as he told Craig what happened, while policemen snooped about his apartment in his peripheral vision. Unlike Marcus, Craig listened with emotions written all over his face. He bounced from horror to anger to concern rapidly as Kyle spoke.
When Kyle finished he just let himself fall against Craig's chest as they sat on the couch together, he closed his eyes and melted in Craig's arms. Why couldn't it all just go away? Why did he have to deal with all of this? He didn't even know what all of this was.
“Thank you for letting us look around,” Marcus said as he approached the men holding onto one another.
“Did you find anything?” Craig asked, everyone sounded kind of muffled in Kyle's ears.
“Nothing of genuine value,” Marcus sighed.
“So what happens now?” Craig held Kyle a little tighter, “are you going after them?” He sounded mixed between anger and fear, Kyle just wanted to push it all away. He wanted to pretend nothing was wrong and hold Craig.
“We have nothing to go after them for at the moment,” Marcus said slowly.
“He assaulted Kyle,” Craig hissed out, “I think that should be enough of a reason to go find him.”
“That's up to Mr. Broflovski,” Marcus said as his gaze moved from Craig to the redhead, “if he wants to press charges for sexual harassment we can bring Stan to the station, but regarding anything else we have no grounds to do anything at the moment.”
“I don't want to do anything about that,” Kyle mumbled weakly into Craig's chest, “he was just freaked out, he didn't mean to hurt me.”
Craig very obviously did not like that, but he didn't argue. Marcus and the policemen left, telling Kyle to call if he needed them for anything. Once it was just him and Craig in the apartment he felt his body relax slightly. All Kyle wanted was to climb into his bed with Craig and wake up the next day to move on. Stan was in a weird place mentally, he was being accused of murder he didn't commit, his girlfriend was scared because police had cornered her at her own home about it, and there had already been stress in Stan's life before any of it.
They didn't find anything in the apartment, because of course they didn't. Stan didn't do anything wrong.
“Let's go to my place,” Craig said after a few minutes of silence.
“I just want to go to bed,” Kyle mumbled, burying his face in Craig's chest.
“We can do that at my apartment,” he patted Kyle's arm, trying to signal for him to get up.
“My bed is already here,” he groaned, “let's just go lay down.”
“I don't feel comfortable staying here Kyle, and I don't feel comfortable with you staying here,” Craig pulled himself up off the couch and tugged Kyle to his feet, “I know you're stressed and sad, but we can lay down at my place.”
“Stan didn't do anything,” Kyle frowned at the man in front of him, “he couldn't have done anything to those people, you've seen how deranged the killer has to be, Stan isn't like that.”
“Whether he killed anyone or not, he forced himself onto you and his girlfriend was wielding a knife. I cannot let you stay here Kyle,” he slowly guided the redhead to the door, “we can lay down and cuddle, we don't have to talk about anything. I just don't want to be here, I don't want you here.”
“Okay,” he whispered, looking at the floor. As they made their way across the living room Kyle felt empty. He had felt so many emotions in a handful of hours it had drained him entirely. As Craig reached for the doorknob it suddenly twisted and the door opened, revealing Stan on the other side. Kyle felt Craig tense up, pulling him closer.
“Oh,” Stan said as he looked Craig over, “hello?”
“We're leaving,” Craig said coldly, pulling Kyle with him to try to get around Stan in the doorway. Before they could walk through Kyle felt the weight of Craig lift off of his body, almost making him fall from the lack of extra support Craig had been providing him to stand. As he turned to see what happened it felt like the world had gone into a painfully slow motion. Stan had ripped Craig away from Kyle, forcing the taller man onto the floor.
Stan was shouting something, but the blood rapidly pumping in Kyle's ears was drowning out the noise. It took him a second to realize Stan was punching Craig, the taller man trying to block his face with his arms as Stan wailed on him unrelentingly. Kyle stumbled back against the wall and tried to tell them to stop, but he wasn't sure if the word actually left his lips or not. As he tried to will himself to intervene he noticed movement on the other side of the half open doorway.
Everything was blurry and slow moving as two of the police officers from earlier burst into the apartment, they separated the two ravenette’s and before Kyle knew it Stan was in handcuffs. He watched helplessly from against the wall as Stan thrashed against the cop holding him. He locked eyes with Stan and expected to see fear or tears in his eyes, instead all he saw was a violent rage that shook him to his core. That couldn't be Stan.
From there everything was so disorienting that Kyle had no clue what was happening, somehow he ended up at the police station though. Even stranger, the person sitting across from him in a small waiting area was Eric Cartman.
“You alive yet?” The brunette asked, one eyebrow raised partially.
“What?” Kyle mumbled, becoming painfully aware of how uncomfortable the chair he was sitting on was.
“Stan and that bitch were arrested,” Cartman said with a sneer, “those fuckers tried to pin shit on me!”
“What?” Kyle asked again, blinking rapidly to try and get himself fully present in the moment. It was just him and Cartman sitting in the waiting area, he didn't see Stan, Wendy, or Craig anywhere. There were police shuffling about the station in a hurry, but he didn't see Marcus either.
Cartman explained things to him, but none of the information stuck. Kyle felt like he was outside of his body, Stan was arrested for the murders of nearly a hundred people. It couldn't be true. After a few minutes of trying to listen to Cartman's ranting, Craig showed up with a black eye. He carded his fingers through Kyle's hair and promised him that everything was going to be okay, but the redhead couldn't believe that for a moment.
It took months before he felt like he was actually in control of his body again, but it still felt like any second he'd wake up from the nightmare. Stan and Wendy had been arrested for the murders, there were trial dates set, Kyle had to talk to lawyers and police constantly. He had to talk to his family about everything, his mother cried more than he'd ever seen before.
Kyle had to quit his job because just being near the morgue made his anxiety spike, stepping foot in the building was an instant panic attack. Craig and Clyde did all the packing for him, and moved his things out of the apartment he shared with Stan. He couldn't go in there anymore. He couldn't do much of anything anymore.
He stayed with Craig and Clyde for a few weeks before moving back into his parents house, everyone that interacted with him treated Kyle like he was constantly one second away from combusting. Which was fair, he felt that way about himself as well. Anytime he thought he was about to start feeling normal again he'd remember Stan. He'd remember his best friend and first love who he'd been attached at the hip to for his entire life. The boy who had always been there for him, the person who always supported him. It had all been lies.
Did he ever actually know Stan Marsh? Was the real Stan the boy he grew up with or the skinwalker he remembered him being the last time he saw him? Trying to figure that riddle out would always send him into a spiral. When the trail began everyone told him to stay away from it, but he couldn't. Kyle needed to know the truth, he needed to see with his own eyes and hear with his own ears who the monster he loved truly was.
Kyle sat in the court for every second of the trial. He hadn't expected anyone else to go through that with him, but people did. Kenny couldn't go to every court hearing because of work, but the blond went to every one he could manage. Cartman was there for every second just like Kyle was, and though they didn't talk he knew Cartman felt a similar sense of betrayal that Kyle did.
Craig also went, he'd hold Kyle's hand the whole time and nervously watch the redhead instead of whoever was talking on the stand. With the hearings happening in Denver, Kyle started staying at Craig and Clyde's place again. It was obvious that Tweek was doing everything in his power to not be around any of it. Craig swore the blond didn't blame Kyle, but Kyle didn't see the blond again until well after the trial finished. Tweek didn't go to the apartment when Kyle was there, he wouldn't even text Craig if he knew he was with Kyle.
Stan killed Tweek's friend, and Kyle understood why the blond couldn't be around him for a long while. How could Kyle not know his best friend was a murderer? How could Kyle live with someone and not know? How could Kyle be in love with someone and not know a single thing about them? He understood why Tweek didn't trust him for so long after the truth came out, he hardly trusted himself.
The evidence against Stan and Wendy was hard to listen to. Fibers found on bodies matched fibers taken from Stan's Maverick. So many security tapes of Stan and Wendy at bars where victims were taken from were played. None of it compared to the evidence found at Wendy's apartment though. Kyle had never been there, he was glad he'd never stepped foot in that hell.
There were severed body parts found in Wendy's kitchen cabinets, a Tupperware of Cartman's semen in her freezer, bed sheets that contained so much DNA it was impossible to figure out who's was even on it, blood was found on nearly every inch of her living space, and a duffle bag was found that had been soaked in blood. It was foul, Kyle nearly threw up listening to the laundry list of evidence left carelessly in her home.
He couldn't understand how someone could live there, in Kyle's opinion the whole apartment building should just be burned down. The main issue was what Stan’s lawyer was doing, pinning it all on Wendy. It was hard to listen to, and even worse it was believable. Almost all the evidence was in her apartment, Stan's lawyer was trying to convince the jury that he had been forced to drop off bodies for her but had no involvement in the actual murders.
The trial dragged on for two months, and the jury took three days to come to a unanimous conclusion. Kyle held his breath as Craig held both of his hands when the jury announced the verdict. Both Stan Marsh and Wendy Testaburger were found guilty on all counts, it felt like getting punched in the gut fifty times in a row by the world's strongest man. Kyle cried, he didn't even really know what he was crying about.
Stan was going to go to prison as a convicted serial killer. Stan Marsh, his super best friend. The boy he grew up with. His first love. His best friend. The man who manipulated and gaslighted him his whole life. The man who knew how much he loved him and played with those feelings for reasons Kyle would never know. Stan Marsh killed people. The same Stan Marsh that fell in love with culinary arts. The Stan Marsh that loved his mother and all animals no matter how many eyes they had or how few legs.
What was Kyle ever supposed to feel about any of it? How was he supposed to keep going about his life as if the first twenty four years hadn't been so disturbingly tainted by Stan's unwavering presence? How does a person live like a normal person after learning their best friend was a psychopath who enjoyed killing people?
“Have you seen my phone?” Kyle looked up from his computer as Craig popped into his office.
“Want me to call it?” He asked, cracking his knuckles as he pushed his chair back with his legs.
“It's on silent,” he sighed, walking across the small room to kiss the top of Kyle's head.
“Did you check the fridge?” He asked with a chuckle and Craig rolled his eyes.
“I did,” he huffed and Kyle snickered, “I only did that one time.”
Kyle stood up from his desk chair and pushed past Craig, the ravenette followed behind him mumbling about how he'd already checked everywhere. Kyle gave their house a full sweep, not locating Craig's phone in any of the usual places he misplaced it. With a smirk he turned to the man, gesturing for him to come closer.
“What?” He asked softly, smiling slightly as he got within arms reach. Kyle brought his hands to Craig's hips, “hey,” he whispered with a blush as Kyle's hands moved to his ass.
“You're getting dementia, old man,” Kyle scoffed, pulling Craig's phone out of his back pocket.
“Oh,” he chuckled, taking the phone and tossing it onto their bed, “you found it,” he smiled.
“I'd say you never even lost it,” Kyle teased, getting on his tiptoes to kiss Craig's nose, “you need to play more word games or something, old man. I'm worried you're going to forget my name next.”
“Shut up,” Craig scoffed, wrapping his arms around his waist.
“Can I get back to my writing now?” Kyle asked softly as Craig started peppering his jaw with kisses.
“But we're already in the bedroom,” Craig murmured.
“I'm almost done with it,” Kyle groaned playfully, softly rubbing Craig's back.
“You've been saying that for the last two years,” he teased back, pulling Kyle towards the bed.
“It's the last book in the series,” Kyle hummed, letting Craig pull his shirt off as they fell into the bed together, “I need the ending to be perfect.”
“You're perfect,” Craig whispered against his skin, kissing down his throat to his chest. It didn't take much more convincing to keep Kyle away from his writing for a couple of hours. Craig kissed every inch of his body, all over his face, down his chest and stomach, he kissed down his arm from his shoulder to his wedding band. By the time Craig had kissed all the tension from his muscles Kyle couldn't fathom sitting at his computer for any longer that day.
“Do you think people will like it?” Kyle asked quietly as they laid in bed snuggled together under the messed up bedding Craig had made so neatly that morning.
“It will give them a lot to think about,” he murmured tiredly into Kyle's hair.
“Is it lame to give it a happy ending?” He laughed softly, running his fingers through Craig's sweaty hair.
“What's wrong with a happy ending?” He asked through a yawn.
“Ugh, I've been hanging out with Kenny too much,” he sighed, “that sounded dirty.”
“Mm, I missed him today,” Craig mumbled, already half asleep.
“Yeah, he was on pickup duty today so he left around two,” Kyle shrugged, instead of responding Craig started snoring and Kyle stared up at the ceiling. Even after a decade passed there wasn't a single day where he didn't think about Stan. It wasn't debilitating anymore, but it still made his heart clench. There was a part of him that really wondered what his life would be like if Stan was still in it.
The day he published his first book, Stan wasn't there to celebrate with him. On the day of his wedding Stan wasn't his best man. Stan wasn't there for any of the milestones that passed Kyle by since the year after they graduated college. There was always a part of Kyle that felt like he should be, but he knew Stan would never be there again. Kyle didn't even want him to be there, but it still felt so strange that he wasn't.
After the trial finished Kyle had been a wreck, he tried so many things to pull himself out of the state he constantly lived in. The thing that helped the most was to write about it, he wrote constantly about what happened. From poems to full length novels of his ramblings. His therapist suggested he tried to write about the other aspects of his life as well, which snowballed into writing about nearly everything he thought about.
It led Kyle to a book series about best friends who ended up on opposing sides of a war. It was a fantasy series with magic and recollections of a game he used to play as a child. When he started the series he always thought it would end in tragedy, probably because back then that's how he viewed his own ending. As the characters slowly became their own thing and no longer just an outlet for Kyle to pour his feelings about Stan into, he realized he didn't want to give them his reality. They deserved the happy ending he didn't get to have with his own best friend.
Maybe his readers will think it's boring, or maybe they'll think he pussied out or something. For Kyle though, it's healing. Despite the deep scars left in his life from Stan, he's happy. He has a fairly nice house in Boulder with Craig, only two streets down Kenny, Marjorine and their two kids live. He's found a passion in writing he never knew he had, a husband that loves him despite his flaws and trauma.
With time he never got over the hurt that Stan caused him, he knows he'll never get over that, but he can still find things in life that bring him joy to counteract the pain. Kyle will never know what his life would have been like if Stan had been the person Kyle thought he was, he'll never know what his life would be like if he had never met Stan. He does know that he's stronger than he ever thought he was.
He's not always happy, he certainly has days where he can't stop replaying certain memories in his head that drive him into panic attacks, and he'll probably always be that way. Kyle Broflovski will always be cursed with thoughts and feelings about Stan Marsh, but Stan Marsh will never have control over his life ever again.