Work Text:
Wednesday 5:06 pm
On Kyle's computer screen, a white letter is blown to full-screen. 'Congratulations!' the pixels beam, and Kyle smiles brightly with his teeth.
"I can't believe it," he says, stifling gleeful giggles.
Next to him, Stan drums his fingers against the wooden desk.
"Awesome dude," he says sincerely.
And then they're going in for one of their all-too-familiar hugs, a hug that feels so comfortable and customary that it sparks a feeling suspiciously close to hurt in Stan's chest. Stan holds Kyle close, fingers digging into his shoulders, because Kyle is going to Harvard, and it's a big deal, and he's wanted this for years, and Stan is so happy for him.
"Seriously, congrats Kyle," Stan whispers now, close to his ear, and he can feel Kyle's smile grow.
"Thanks dude."
When he pulls back, Kyle's eyes have taken a shine to them, like he's going to break down crying any second. But it's Kyle, ever so composed, so he doesn't.
"I'm really going to Harvard," he says in a dreamy voice.
Stan snickers. "Time to unlock your full nerd potential."
Kyle giggles again, lightly punches Stan’s shoulder. "Shut the fuck up, I'm happy."
Stan smiles too. Kyle is the best person he knows, and his happiness always feels so incredibly justified. "I bet you are.”
Currently, they're camped out in the school library, but Kyle scrambles to grab his stuff, getting up in a rush.
"No more studying," he commands, "let's celebrate.”
Stan trails closely behind him as they walk out.
Wednesday 6:23 pm
Celebrating, in Kyle’s eyes, means the two of them sitting in a slouchy roadside diner and stuffing their faces with greasy food.
They drove here in the worn-out car that Kyle’d received as a birthday present last year, the vehicle that is responsible for all of their shared escapades. Now, they sit across from each other as their shoes bump under the table.
“We should have a party,” Stan says with a grin. Kyle kicks him.
“Yeah, right! Like anyone cares that I got into Harvard.”
Stan takes a sip from his strawberry milkshake.
“They should care. This should be national news,” he says with a smirk.
Kyle rolls his eyes. “You’re an asshole.”
He steals a fry from Stan, and Stan swats away his hand.
“Yeah, I’m the asshole paying for your burgers."
Kyle nods, wearing a smug smile, like he’s way too satisfied about this very fact. “That’s right,” he says, stealing another fry for emphasis.
They eat in silence for a while, and Stan feels like his skin is vibrating.
“You know, leaving South Park sounds like a dream” he murmurs. Kyle doesn’t pick up on what he really means.
“I can’t believe it’s happening,” he says, staring off somewhere past Stan, his green eyes sparkling with excitement.
Stan slumps his shoulders. He’s starting to feel worse with every passing second, though he would never tell Kyle that. Because he should feel happy, but his mind is overtaken by anxiety.
Here they are, celebrating Kyle's now guaranteed new life, a life that is so meticulously planned out that every detail for the next 10 years has been accounted for. Stan pretends like it doesn't hurt that none of Kyle's plans seem to include him. It's okay- they're separate people after all. Maybe it'll be good for them to be apart. They haven’t been apart for longer than a week for the past 10 years. It makes sense for Kyle to want this, Stan repeats over and over in his brain. It will be good.
“Are you gonna join the debate club at Harvard? Or write for the Lampoon?” he asks, redirecting his attention to Kyle in front of him. Kyle practically bounces in his seat.
“Man, I don’t know. There’s so much to think about!” he beams.
Stan stuffs his mouth full of fries and swallows down his nerves.
Wednesday 7:12 pm
“Wanna come back to mine and play video games?” Kyle asks during the car ride back.
His hands are tight around the wheel. Stan sits in the passenger seat, knees-up, face leaning against the cold window.
“Yeah, cool,” he mumbles.
Kyle turns up the radio a little, humming along to a song that Stan has never heard of.
Wednesday 7:34 pm
“I’m so proud of you bubba,” Sheila practically coos. She’s been hugging Kyle close to her chest for about 10 minutes now.
Stan stands in the doorway of the living room, shifting his weight from one foot to another.
“Mom, Stan and I were gonna go upstairs to play video games,” Kyle says, muffled through her embrace. Sheila doesn’t seem quite ready to let go yet.
“This could last a while,” Ike says from next to Stan.
Wednesday 9:40 pm
Stan sits on the floor of Kyle’s bedroom. Sometimes he gets the odd desire to calculate the amount of time he’s spent here. It feels like a great part of his life has played out in this very room.
“You’re fucking terrible today,” Kyle complains, as he shoots someone on screen. They’ve been playing Call of Duty for an hour now.
“Maybe I’m playing bad on purpose to make you feel better about yourself,” Stan huffs. Kyle rolls his eyes at that.
The truth is that Stan isn’t thinking about the game. His mind is stuck on what it’s been stuck on all day. Kyle is leaving, Kyle is leaving, Kyle is leaving, and that exact thought a million times over.
After another hour of playing, with Kyle murmuring obscenities every other minute, they put down their controllers.
“Let’s do something else."
Stan nods. “Movie?” he proposes, and Kyle grabs him by his arms, smiling. “You read my mind.”
When he lets go to get up and grab his box of DVDs, the places where he touched Stan still feel warm. Stan runs his fingers along, feeling kind of stupid. Why does his heart feel so heavy? He shakes off the feeling.
They rummage through Kyle’s DVD collection, eventually settling on Raiders of the Lost Ark, which Stan is sure they’ve seen about a thousand times at this point. It doesn’t matter because it does the trick.
“I wonder if Cartman got in,” Kyle says, as they settle against his bed frame, bowl of popcorn between them.
Cartman had applied to Harvard mostly to taunt Kyle, though he was technically smart enough to get accepted. Stan doesn’t know how the bastard did it, but he passed most of his classes with flying colors, even the AP ones. Stan wouldn’t admit just how horrible that makes him feel.
“They would never accept that asshole,” Stan murmurs.
“I don’t know, he has good extracurriculars,” Kyle shrugs.
“No shot dude.”
Stan tries to focus on the movie but he feels weird. The thought of Cartman, Kyle’s literal mortal enemy and objectively a terrible person, getting to go to Harvard with Kyle, instead of Stan, makes him queasy.
Stan is planning on going to a community college nearby and maybe take up working part-time at the CD store in town. He's never been much for academics. His grades are average and his resume is extremely mediocre. Besides, he wouldn’t dare dream of having the funds to study at a reputable university like Harvard. Ever since last year, his mom has had to provide as a single parent. Randy’s alimony helps, but it’s not enough. Sharon is already struggling to put Shelley through college, so Stan knows to limit his expectations.
He can’t focus at all, but next to him, Kyle is fully tuned in to the movie. He only briefly turns away, to stop Stan’s fingers from tapping against his knees. It’s a nervous habit Stan has never been able to kick.
“You’re so jittery,” Kyle comments under his breath, and Stan sits very still when he doesn’t let go of his hand. They hold hands for the rest of the film, without ever saying anything about it.
Wednesday 11:24 pm
“Dude, I’m exhausted,” Kyle whispers, when the movie is done. He has slouched down to rest his head on Stan’s shoulder.
“I bet,” Stan mumbles into his hair. Kyle smells like sugar and lemons. It’s probably his shampoo.
They lazily move to get up as the credits roll. Kyle grabs some clothes to sleep in from his closet. Stan has his own little shelf in said closet. He wonders what Kyle is going to do with all of his clothes when he moves to Harvard. Maybe he’ll give them back to Stan.
It's unspoken, that Stan will stay the night, but most times it just feels like a natural progression for them.
Kyle stands across from him, and Stan tries his very best to look away as he changes. He ends up not doing a very good job. They’ve seen each other shirtless and even naked so often that it shouldn’t matter. But Stan still feels shame bloom in his chest when he lets his eyes fall on his best friend. Kyle is tall and lanky and pale with freckles everywhere. His waist is small, smaller than most guys’ are, Stan thinks. He briefly imagines how it would feel to hold Kyle, to place his hands right where his shape dips under his rib cage. To push the thought away, he focuses on the floorboards instead.
In bed, they carefully take place at their respective sides. They’ve never quite grown out of having sleepovers, but they’re aware of the unspoken boundaries they should adhere to. It’s not normal for two best friends to enjoy cuddling each other that much; that’s what Stan has come to understand over the years.
Like half moons, they’re turned to each other as they settle in to sleep. Under the sheets, Kyle hooks his ankle with Stan’s. It's nothing compared to how they used to comfortably fall into each other's arms when they were kids, but it's something. Stan feels warm all over.
“Night Stan."
“Goodnight Kyle."
But instead of slipping into sleep, Stan feels wide awake. It’s like all the nerves in his body have been activated, like he drank three energy drinks in a row, or way too much coffee. His fingers tremble, and he grips the bedspread tight.
For a long long time, he stares at the ceiling trying to tire himself out.
Thursday 2:45 am
Kyle talks in his sleep. No coherent words or anything, just gibberish. But it’s still entertaining to listen to. Stan already knew this, but he’s never been quite as privy to it as he is now.
Thursday 4:17 am
Kyle also kicks in his sleep. Stan’s shin hurts. At least he gets closer with every kick, inching towards Stan’s body like a magnet.
Thursday 6:30 am
The alarm is shrill and painful. Stan is already pacing the room when it goes off.
"You’re up already?" Kyle croaks out, voice hoarse from sleep. His hair is a mess, falling into his eyes. Stan briefly thinks about running his fingers through it to push it out of his eyesight. Just to help Kyle see better. He doesn’t.
"Didn't really go to sleep to be honest,” he admits.
"What the hell Stan?"
"Yeah.”
Kyle sits up and climbs out of bed, stretching before moving closer to Stan.
"What's your damage?" he asks, one hand on his bicep to stop him from pacing.
"Must just be my excitement over you going to Harvard," Stan says, in an attempt to distract Kyle.
"How sweet of you," Kyle says sarcastically, narrowing his eyes like he’s highly suspicious of Stan.
"Mhm-mhm," Stan hums. He cracks his fingers. “Okay if I take a shower?”
Kyle nods, in a daze, and Stan quickly leaves the room.
Thursday 7:23 am
With tact and grace, Kyle refrains from interrogating Stan any further. They sing along to shitty pop songs in the car, spring rain coming down on them as they drive to school.
Thursday 8:32 am
Stan’s first class is Chemistry, which he takes with Wendy and Bebe.
It’s pretty much the only class Wendy doesn’t take at AP level. “Stanley, you look terrible,” is how she greets Stan that morning.
He knows he does. He’d hoped his shower would alleviate his appearance but it did very little to help him. His eyes are red at the rims, with dark circles, and his skin is sickly pale.
“Thanks,” Stan grumbles. He sits down at his desk next to her and Bebe.
“What’s up with you?” Bebe asks, leaning on the palm of her hand, blonde curls falling elegantly over her shoulders.
Stan takes out his books from his bag. “I couldn’t sleep last night.”
Wendy pats his hand. “Oh, I’m sorry honey.”
Stan really appreciates Wendy’s presence in his life. They’d been a couple at some point, many years ago. When he was a freshman, Stan truly thought that he couldn’t live without Wendy. He’d cried his eyes out, devastated, when she had inevitably broken it off with him a year later. But now, here he is, and they’ve stayed good friends through it all.
“Don’t worry about it” Stan says with a small smile.
“Well, let’s get to work,” Bebe says, and they start working on their assignments.
Thursday 12:03 pm
Stan is still not tired come lunchtime.
He’d thought that school might tire him out, but nothing so far. He’s starting to feel a little hopeless.
Normally, he’ll fall asleep during at least one class, much to Kyle’s dismay. Back in sophomore year, they’d agreed that Stan would just take his naps during lunchtime instead. They had spent many lunches together in the back of the library, where there was a ratty old couch. Kyle would keep watch as Stan slept. During classes, he’d wear a satisfied grin, happy that Stan was paying attention. They don’t really share any classes anymore though. Kyle takes mostly AP classes. Stan kind of hates himself for being so stupid compared to him.
His train of thought is interrupted when a hand waves in front of his face. "Stan, Stan, Staaaaan,” Cartman calls out.
Stan blinks a few times. He tries to remember if he has spoken a word yet. Probably not. Everyone at the lunch table stares at him.
"Do you have brain damage or something?" Cartman asks.
"No, I just haven't slept dickhead,” Stan rolls his eyes. Next to him, Kyle squeezes his leg. Stan wants to cry.
“That explains why you look like a corpse right now,” Cartman comments around his sandwich.
“Knock it off,” Kyle huffs.
“He kinda does though,” Kenny chimes in, from the other side of Stan.
“I bet Kyle still thinks he looks hot.”
“I said knock it off Cartman!”
The two of them start arguing, like they do nearly every single lunch period, and Stan allows himself to zone out again.
Thursday 2:56 pm
Stan’s civics class is so boring, he thinks it’s an absolute miracle that it doesn’t put him to sleep. Why doesn’t it put him to sleep? Something must be wrong with him.
Thursday 4:12 pm
Kyle drops him off at home, but not without asking Stan if he wants to come over for dinner.
Kyle asks this particular question nearly every day, but Stan knows how to parse his answers out over the week so that he doesn’t become too much of a burden to the Broflovskis. And so he politely declines this time, leaving Kyle with a disappointed face, before getting out of the car.
Stan’s house is empty without Shelley and his dad. Last year had been weird for him, with the both of them leaving. Or, well- Shelley had left on her own accord, Randy had had to leave. Stan hadn’t coped very well with either situation.
“Hey mom,” he calls out now.
Sharon is in the kitchen. Upon seeing Stan, she hugs him close.
“Hi sweetheart,” she says, “how was school?”
“Fine.”
Stan rummages around the kitchen. He’s planning to make some tea. Maybe it’ll help him get sleepy. He’s also kind of trying to avoid his mom’s eye, because he knows she’ll worry when she catches even a single glimpse of him.
“Great! How was your little celebration with Kyle yesterday?”
Stan wants to not think about Kyle right now.
“Good, good, good,” he mumbles. He can’t find any teabags.
“What are you looking for hon?”
Stan stands up straight, giving up the search. “Teabags,” he says dejectedly, letting his shoulders fall.
Sharon walks up to him, narrows her eyes. “Is everything okay Stanley? Are you sick?”
At this, Stan shakes his head fervently. “Just didn’t sleep very well,” he half-lies.
“Should I call Grace?”
Grace is Stan’s former therapist. After last year, when Stan suffered a somewhat serious breakdown, Sharon thinks that every single thing that is slightly wrong with Stan has something to do with his mental health.
“Mom, I’m fine,” Stan says, locking eyes with her and smiling to prove it.
“Okay,” she says, unsure.
Stan flees upstairs without ever making himself tea.
Thursday 7:49 pm
Stan is done with all his homework and, even after working on school for two hours straight, he still feels energetic as ever. This has never happened to him before.
The energy is almost unbearable. So much so that his hands shake with it. He bangs his head against his desk a couple of times for good measure. It must be his room that is making him feel this anxious.
He gets up in an instant and jogs down the stairs. At the door, he grabs his jacket.
“I’m gonna go out for a walk!” he calls to his mom, who’s working on some bills at the kitchen table.
“Okay sweetie!”
Dusk creeps above him, the looming sky a dark gray. He walks quickly without any particular direction in mind. At some point, he ends up at the old playground. Stan and his friends used to spend all their time here, playing basketball and messing around. He cocks an eyebrow as he spots a familiar figure.
“Funny running into you,” he says.
Kenny is shooting hoops on the court, and he turns around at Stan’s voice.
“Dude, yo!” he greets him with a smile on his face, seemingly surprised to see Stan. He pulls him into a hug.
Stan smiles, then takes the ball from Kenny and shoots. He’s so far off that it actually makes him want to crawl in on himself and weep.
“I take it you still haven’t slept,” Kenny remarks as he jogs to retrieve the ball.
“Nope."
They shoot hoops for a while, but Stan misses nearly all of his shots. When it’s dark enough for the street lanterns to turn on, he tells Kenny goodbye.
He walks and walks but it’s utterly useless. His brain is still foggy, his hands still tremble, his teeth still grind.
Thursday 10:06 pm
All the Spider-Man films' runtimes combined adds up to around 6 and a half hours. Stan sits on the floor of his room, trying to pay attention as Peter Parker makes his way into Oscorp.
Thursday 10:24 pm
which spiderman was ur fav again, i forget Stan texts Kyle.
I like the second one. Doc Oc is awesome!!!
that one makes me sad bc peter breaks up with mj
They get back together in the end though.
yeah i guess
Shouldn’t you be sleeping dude?
Stan doesn’t respond after that
Friday 1:06 am
Watching the second Spider-man makes Stan feel much more sad than usual, and he stops watching halfway through.
Friday 3:21 am
Stan moves from the floor to his bed and back again every ten minutes. He’s lost track of how many times he’s switched already.
He’s blocked out every sliver of light that could possibly enter his room. It’s pitch-black around him. Still, he can’t get himself to sleep.
At some point he figures that the living room couch is his best bet. His dad used to always sleep on the couch, and he seemed perfectly comfortable there. Maybe it will help. Maybe sleeping on the couch is an undiscovered gem for curing insomnia. Maybe his dad had it all figured out.
Stan takes the stairs one step at a time, quietly in the dark, careful not to wake his mom.
The couch turns out to be way too sturdy. It hurts the muscles in his neck. He tries every position he can, but nothing, nothing works.
Friday 4:04 am
It’s still about three months until Kyle will inevitably move out of South Park. That gives Stan some time. If he starts now, he could save up enough to scramble together a first month’s worth of rent for a studio apartment. His mom will support him for the college funds.
He sits at his desk in his room, scrolling on his computer. There are so many options. He could definitely attend a college near Kyle. He could live close to him.
Stan starts to feel a bit silly when he realizes how many tabs he has opened in his browser. Kyle hasn’t even asked him to come with him to Massachusetts. The more Stan thinks about it, the more he concludes that Kyle probably won’t ask at all. Because if he wanted Stan to come, he would have asked already, right?
This must be the most pathetic case of wishful thinking ever.
Friday 5:18 am
He's slowly starting to realize how inevitable this all is.
Kyle is going to move to the other side of the country and completely reinvent himself. He’ll be better off. Of course he’s not going to want Stan there; this is an opportunity for him to grow and change.
Stan is stuck in place. He will be, forever. He’ll probably end up just like his dad, and Kyle probably knows that. He’s smart for leaving this place, for not getting caught up in Stan’s storm.
He thinks of his dad again, how much he’s hurt his mom. Good thing that Kyle is leaving, because Stan would hurt him just the same. He isn’t made to be loved. He’s made to break and be broken. He doesn't deserve Kyle, no matter how much he would like for that to be the reality.
Friday 5:53 am
The sun is peaking through the blinds. Stan goes downstairs and sticks his head in the fridge for a while. Nothing helps.
Friday 7:26 am
This time, Kyle doesn’t spare him silence.
“Again? You pulled another all-nighter?”
Stan rubs the bridge of his nose. He feels so distant, so far away. His brain is exhausted from being conscious for nearly three days now.
“Not on purpose,” he mumbles.
They’re driving to school again. Stan has no idea how he’s going to make it through the day. He feels like he crawled out of his own grave.
“Dude, I’m getting concerned,” Kyle says, keeping his eyes on the road. The morning light shines on the side of his face, illuminating him in a very appealing way. Stan is too tired to have any inhibitions when it comes to admiring Kyle.
“No need,” he says meekly, shooting a thumbs-up. He turns up the radio and takes a deep breath.
If only he could tell Kyle exactly how afraid he is of losing him. If only he could say how much he really feels. If only he had the guts to be honest.
Friday 9:45 am
Geography class. Something about riverbeds. Stan can’t pay attention. A low buzzing sound echoes through his head. His brain hurts.
“Mr. Marsh, are you with us?” a voice sounds from far away.
Stan nods in a daze. His teacher shoots him a concerned look before continuing.
Friday 12:02 pm
"I need you to knock me unconscious,” Stan says to Kenny, in between classes.
Kenny snorts. "Ask Craig, he hates you."
Stan blinks a few times. "Craig doesn't hate me," he pouts.
Craig totally hates him, Kenny is right.
"Get with the program Stan."
"We express our friendship differently,” Stan shrugs. He can hear his own voice, but it sounds like it’s coming from another room, or like he’s under the sea hearing noises from up above.
"Yeah okay, sure," Kenny chuckles
Stan changes the subject from Craig to his insomnia.
"Seriously though Kenny, please. If you're my friend, please just hit me," he says, showing his most convincing pleading expression, the one that Kyle had once told him makes him look like a kicked puppy.
Kenny stops walking, turns to Stan.
"Hey Stan? Have you thought about seeing a doctor, maybe? Instead of asking your friends to knock you out?"
Stan rubs his arm abashedly. It’s not like he doesn’t know he sounds crazy. At this point, he’s desperate.
"They're just going to give me sleeping pills," he huffs.
"Yeah, because they help."
Stan sighs now.
"I don't want medicine. It's gonna fuck with my brain like the Prozac did."
Last year, he was put on anti-depressants. They made him feel paranoid and so incredibly numb. He quit taking them after less than two months.
"Yeah, and not sleeping is totally not fucking with your brain. You're so right Stan,” Kenny says rolling his eyes.
“I have class,” Stan murmurs as he walks off.
Friday 1:10 pm
Wendy comes to stand next to Stan at his locker.
"Kenny told me you won't see your doctor," she says, with her arms crossed.
"Why's he going around telling people that?"
Wendy locks eyes with him and raises her brows. Stan knows this look all too well; she’s properly concerned now.
"Have you slept yet?" she asks.
"...No?" Stan says with an awkward smile.
Wendy sighs.
"Stanley, I'm going to single-handedly drag you to the doctor's."
"I'm fine Wendy. I just can't sleep."
Stan grabs all the books he’ll need for his next three classes, though he knows full and well that he’s not going to be able to pay any attention.
"You're not fine, look at you!" Wendy exclaims.
Stan checks briefly in his locker mirror. His eye bags are so dark now, they almost look like bruises. His hair is all messy because he keeps running his hands through it, at a loss of what to do.
"Gee thanks," he murmurs.
He can feel Wendy staring from the corner of his eye.
"Stan..." she starts, with frowning eyes.
Stan sighs. "Don't give me that look.”
"What did you do all night anyway?"
Stan feels like an idiot. Wendy definitely thinks he’s nuts, and he wants to prove to her that he’s not, even though he can barely convince himself.
"You'll be pleased to hear that I was actually very productive,” he starts off, “I made a list of community colleges in Massachusetts. And a financial plan. So I can afford a place off-campus. I mean, it would be hard. And it's stupid anyway because I'm not even going there. There's no reason why I made this, really. I'm gonna stay in South Park. Alone. So, who cares? I just did it because I was bored."
Wendy doesn’t say anything for way too long of a time.
"Oh, Stan."
Stan huffs exasperatedly.
"No, Wendy! I'm fine! This makes me sound insane but I'm great!" he halfheartedly argues. He’s dizzy. The light in the hallway is too bright.
"Look, why don't you just tell Kyle?" Wendy says then.
"Tell him what?"
She pats his shoulder, smiling. Stan feels like a headcase. Suddenly, being in a public place like the school is way too intense. It feels like everyone is staring at him. He takes out the books from his bag and drops them back in his locker.
“I’m gonna go home."
“Don’t you have like, three more classes left?” Wendy asks, but Stan is already walking.
“See you tonight!” he yells from down the hallway.
Friday 3:23 pm
There’s a party every Friday night. Most times at Tolkien’s house. Tonight, it’s at Clyde’s. Stan and Kyle always go together.
Stan paces his room. Another tradition that they’ll lose. Great! Friday night parties will be in the past, and Kyle will forget all about them once he gets to attend all the awesome college parties. Stan feels jealous of the people that Kyle will get to spend the rest of his life with.
The thing is, it doesn't really make sense that Stan is so upset over this. He’s known that Kyle is leaving for like, forever. He never stopped talking about it. Kyle hates South Park, ever since he was a kid, which Stan understood. For different reasons than Kyle, he doesn't hold the highest opinion of their hometown either. But Kyle was always destined for something greater. Greater than them, greater than Stan. And while Stan completely and fully believes that to be the truth, he's still so scared. He has no idea what to do without Kyle.
He scales the house, ends up in the bathroom. With narrowed eyes, he stares at his own reflection. He's selfish, that's it. Why can't he just be happy for Kyle and leave it at that? Kenny is. Hell, even Cartman is! Why does Stan feel like he deserves Kyle’s presence in his life? What has he done, to warrant that very privilege?
Kyle is leaving and it’ll be good for him. Stan’s feelings shouldn’t matter.
Friday 4:35 pm
A knock on his bedroom door catches Stan’s attention. He’s been burying his head in his pillow for at least an hour now.
When he opens his door, Kyle is standing there. He walks past Stan and into his room.
“Hey, I heard from Wendy that you went home already.”
Stan swallows.
“Yeah, sorry. I walked,” he shrugs.
Kyle nods. They stand across from each other in the middle of the room. Stan is finding it even more difficult to avoid his eyes than usual.
“It’s okay. I’m just…checking in on you, I guess?” Kyle says with a soft voice that Stan has only ever heard him use around him.
“Oh. Yeah, I’m- I’m good.” He smiles weakly, faltering at the edges.
Kyle clears his throat.
“Stan…” he starts carefully, "Are things bad again?”
Kyle had spent a lot of time taking care of Stan last year. It had been nearly impossible for him to get out of bed some of those days, but Kyle was always there to help him. Stan understands his concern, and he feels incredibly guilty that Kyle carries this distress with him now. He shouldn’t have to worry about Stan.
“No, it’s not like that dude."
“You can talk to me, you know.”
“I know.”
Kyle slides his hand down from where he’s holding Stan, slowly. When their fingers touch, he makes a move to intertwine them.
“Then what’s up dude? I’m worried about you,” he whispers.
“I don’t know what’s up,” Stan admits. It’s not entirely true.
"Maybe you should come sleep at my house tonight. After the party."
Stan swallows thickly.
"No, I'm good dude. I mean, we already slept over yesterday," he murmurs.
“That was two days ago. And you didn’t sleep,” Kyle shakes his head. He tugs lightly on Stan’s hand to illustrate his point.
I'm afraid I'm going to be too much for you is what Stan really wants to say. But it’s left unspoken.
"Also, since when do you care about that? Is there a limit to our sleepovers now?"
“No, I didn't-"
“Please dude, I just wanna help you,” whispers Kyle with pleading eyes.
Stan says nothing for a long time.
“Let’s just have fun and enjoy ourselves tonight, okay? I’ll- I’ll see afterwards,” he finally manages.
Kyle doesn’t look satisfied at all, but he lets go of Stan’s hand eventually.
Friday 9:23 pm
The party is bustling and crowded.
After Kyle had left to go home for dinner, he’d come back to pick Stan up about half an hour ago. They walk into Clyde’s house side by side.
Kyle stays in his orbit, sticking to Stan with impressive dedication, and Stan is starting to feel more nervous because of it. He doesn’t want to keep Kyle from having fun. He feels like he’s already done that for the better part of their friendship. So, once Kyle gets caught up in a conversation with Tolkien, Stan slips away from him, claiming to go for a refill.
Leaving him behind almost seems fitting.
Friday 10:47 pm
“Damn, you look shitty,” Craig’s monotone voice greets him.
Stan isn’t sure how he’s ended up against the wall. He’s had a couple of beers but he’s not drunk at all. He feels dazed nonetheless though. Maybe he’ll pass out from exhaustion. He’ll take anything at this point.
“Thanks Craig,” he huffs.
“Don’t listen to him” Tweek says from next to Craig. The purple party lights illuminate their figures, and Stan squints.
“No, it’s okay, I do look shitty. I haven’t slept.”
Tweek shoots him a crooked smile. “Oh, I don’t really sleep that well either,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. How long have you been up for?”
Stan tries to think, but it feels like there’s a thick cloud floating around in his skull.
“Like two days? Maybe three at this point. I’m not sure.”
Tweek nods. “Have you tried sleeping with someone?” he suggests.
Stan cocks his head. “As in…?”
“Not in that way!” Tweek giggles, and Craig rolls his eyes next to him. “Just, in the same bed together. I don’t know- it may sound stupid, but whenever I sleep next to Craig and he cuddles me it just relaxes me so much. It makes me feel safe, and like sleeping only makes sense because it feels so comfortable, you know?”
Stan tries his best to consider it. Unfortunately he doesn’t have someone to hold close like Tweek can do with Craig. Envy bubbles in his chest, and he remembers briefly how jealous he had been of Craig when he told their friend group that he and Tweek were together. Stan recalls the feeling, how he’d thought over and over; why can’t I just tell my best friend how I feel? Why am I such a coward?
“I have no idea who I could do that with,” he says dryly.
Tweek raises a single eyebrow, like he’s calling Stan’s bluff. “Uh…”
“Thanks Tweek!” Stan says, patting him on the shoulder before he walks away.
Friday ???
Stan has locked himself in the bathroom, and he has no idea what time it is. He’s been staring at his own reflection for…he doesn’t know how long.
Clyde’s bathroom is kind of messy. There’s laundry all over the floor. Stan stares at a pair of patterned pajamas that’s crumpled up in the corner of the room. He can hear the electricity of the lights, he’s pretty sure. It’s the same buzzing sound he’s heard all day.
“Yo, occupied?” a voice suddenly sounds. Stan can’t place who it is right away.
“Can’t you tell from the fact that the door is locked?” he grumbles, resting his head against the wall.
“Stan, dude, is that you? You’ve been gone for like an hour. People are looking for you, man!” Clyde says. Stan is pretty sure that it’s Clyde talking.
“Oh” he says to no one in particular. He’s been in here for longer than he thought.
He opens the door and is greeted with Clyde, just as he thought, whose eyes are wide, eyebrows raised to his hairline.
“Sorry,” Stan meekly apologizes.
“Are you good dude?”
He nods fervently. “Yeah, fine Clyde, thanks”
“Of course bro,” Clyde says as he rubs his back.
Saturday 1:13 am
FADE IN:
INT. KYLE’S CAR - NIGHT
Kyle shoots a concerned look over at Stan. He must have looked his way about a hundred times already tonight.
KYLE
(worried)
Did the alcohol at least relax you a little?
STAN
Yeah, but I’m still not tired.
Kyle furrows his brows. He reaches out his hand, but Stan doesn't accept his gesture.
KYLE
Stan-
Kyle gets cut off before he can say anything else.
STAN
(weakly)
Can you drop me off at home?
Kyle doesn't say anything. His fingers are tight around the steering wheel.
STAN (CONT'D)
Please?
END
Saturday 1:48 am
Stan is pretty sure that he fell asleep during the car ride home. He remembers dreaming that his life was like a movie, a dramatic coming-of-age friendship movie in which the main character has to figure out how to tell his best friend that he's afraid to lose him.
(Maybe he wasn't asleep. Maybe he's just going insane.)
He sighs, sitting cross-legged on his bed and staring at the wall. He can feel his eye twitch. He's starting to really regret not taking Kyle up on his offer to sleep over. In his room alone, Stan almost feels scared. It’s stupid. Nothing is going to happen to him. He's fine.
He tries to remember sleeping in Kyle’s bed a few nights ago. Then he tries to imagine how it would feel if Kyle were to hold him through the night, just like Tweek had talked about.
How many hours has he spent in Kyle’s room? And how many hours has he spent with him in general? The question reappears in his brain. Maybe if he calculates the exact number, it’ll be enough to convince Kyle to stay with him, to take Stan with him. Kyle had told him about the fallacy of sunk costs once. Maybe it could be just like that: Kyle has already spent so much time with him, why not some more? Why not the rest of their lives? What a waste otherwise!
Suddenly, Stan feels tears dripping down his cheeks. Before he knows it, he’s full-on sobbing. He can’t stop it from coming. He wraps himself in a hug, trying his best at providing some comfort. This’ll have to do, he thinks. He cries until his eyes hurt to keep open.
Saturday 2:46 am
It’s way too late to stop by Kyle’s house, yet here Stan is anyway.
He isn’t sure how to go about entering the house. He doesn’t want to wake Sheila or Gerald, but he doesn’t want to scare Kyle by just flat-out climbing through his window. It would be a bit creepy.
He settles for simply tapping the glass of his window. He climbs up to Kyle’s windowsill using the garbage cans. He taps and taps and taps and he thinks it might just be useless, until a pair of pale hands shines in the darkness.
Kyle opens the window, and Stan feels breathless. Nothing seems real, and he just needs Kyle close right now.
“Kyle,” he breathes, and it’s all he can manage to even say.
“Stan, c’mere,” Kyle whispers, gesturing for him to come in.
In Kyle’s bedroom, Stan stands with his head buried in his hands. Kyle immediately comes up to hold him, to keep him close in a tight hug.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m exhausted. I just wanna sleep. I’m so exhausted Kyle,” mumbles Stan, desperate words like a plea.
“Yeah, I know,” Kyle whispers. He presses a featherlight kiss against Stan’s forehead. Stan nearly misses it.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong-”
“Stop, dude. That’s okay Stan. It’s okay, I got you, alright? I got you.”
Stan doesn’t register getting changed, but he does, and then he’s in Kyle’s bed, with Kyle across from him.
They’re too far apart. It feels wrong, but Stan can’t get the words out.
“Stan?” Kyle chimes then.
“Yeah?”
“Can I touch you?”
Stan swallows thickly, wondering if he’s for real dreaming now.
“Yes,” he says, managing a smile, though Kyle won’t see it in the dark.
Kyle’s hands move up his shoulders, pressing down. Stan breathes in with the pressure, and it feels so unbelievably good. He can’t even explain it. Kyle pushes down harder now, digging in with his fingers. After that, he holds Stan by the waist, pulls him closer. Stan is too tired, too tired to pretend like this isn’t what he’s been longing for his whole life. He buries his head against Kyle’s chest, settles in his warm embrace and lets his scent overtake him. He smells so good, so sweet.
“Deep breaths, okay?” Kyle whispers, rubbing his back.
Stan feels almost paralyzed. He closes his eyes. Kyle presses another kiss against his forehead. “Good, you’re doing good Stan. Just try to relax.”
They lie there for a long time. Sleep doesn’t come just yet though, so Stan dares to speak up.
"Kyle?"
"Yeah dude?"
Here goes nothing.
"Why haven’t you asked me to come with you?"
Kyle stiffens against Stan only slightly. Then, he just holds him tighter.
"Oh,” he breathes.
“Kyle?”
He pulls back now, catching Stan’s gaze though it’s nearly too dark to see him.
“Look Stan. I really really want to. Please believe me. But there’s something I wanted to say to you before I did because it's important that you know, and- I’ll tell you in the morning, okay?” he says, a shimmer in his eyes.
Stan clears his throat.
“Okay. Okay. Can I tell you something right now though?” he whispers.
“Sure Stan,” Kyle nods.
Admittedly, Stan isn’t thinking much, though the tiniest shred of logic he uses is justified as follows; if he confesses to Kyle now, he’ll blame himself less later. After all, he's sleep deprived as hell. If anything backfires, he could just blame his state of exhaustion.
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot over the past few days and I really need to tell you this now so…I’m in love with you dude. Like, seriously. Like, head over heels. Like, I’m genuinely so fucking in love with you that it’s killing me to hold it in and I can't stop thinking about how I'm going to lose you and I really really don't want that.”
It’s almost like his words echo in the room. It’s so quiet, and Stan holds his breath.
“I hate you for doing this,” Kyle says when he finally speaks.
“Why?” Stan says, breathing out.
Kyle moves back, but only slightly. His hands come up to hold Stan by the side of his face.
“Because I can’t kiss you when you’re delirious like this,” he whispers, so close.
Stan takes hold of Kyle’s wrists, squeezing. He feels like he might explode on the spot.
“And that’s the only thing stopping you?” he asks, unsure.
“Yeah,” Kyle breathes.
He’s so beautiful. Stan loves him more than anything.
“Oh man,” he says, instead of anything remotely eloquent.
“Go to sleep idiot,” Kyle whispers. He strokes Stan’s hair sweetly.
“Okay."
“We’ll talk in the morning.”
“Okay.”
Saturday 11:32 am
Stan awakes with the sunlight. Kyle is already up, next to him.
“Morning,” he says softly, a sweet smile creeping at the edges of his mouth.
“Good morning,” Stan groans, rubbing his eyes.
“Sleep okay?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever slept this deep.”
“Good.”
Stan blinks up at the ceiling for a while, letting the past few days wash over. Suddenly, he remembers. Just like that, he looks over at Kyle, and feels his heart swell in his chest.
“I didn’t dream my love confession to you, right?” he asks, hiding his face.
Kyle lets out a delicious laugh. He comes closer, prying Stan's hands off of his face.
“Nope,” he says, with an elated expression
“Dude.”
Kyle moves even closer now, practically hovering over Stan.
“Do you regret it?” he asks, eyes wide and serious.
Stan shakes his head fervently.
“Not at all,” he says, matching Kyle’s grave expression.
“Okay,” Kyle says, letting out a breath of relief.
Stan swallows.
“You were going to say something? Last night?” he whispers, with Kyle so so close.
Kyle nods, sitting up. Stan follows.
“I want you to come with me so badly. But I didn’t want to ask you before telling you how I feel. It wouldn't be fair, you know? And I was working up the nerve, but you beat me to it!" he smiles, lightly punching Stan's chest.
"So here goes," he continues then, "I’m in love with you. For a while now, actually. But I was so afraid to say anything in case you didn’t feel the same. I just- I didn’t want to lose you.”
Stan lets the words sink in. Kyle was just as afraid of losing him as Stan was. He feels himself smile, so wide his face could split in half.
“You love me?” he mumbles, and then; “You want me to come with you?”
“Yes to both,” Kyle whispers.
Stan doesn’t even register moving in to kiss Kyle. He just does. And he doesn’t think about it any more as he keeps kissing Kyle, keeps holding him close. It’s so easy, and it just makes sense, and it's just like they were supposed to be.
Stan is not afraid anymore. The future is a happy dream.