Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I actually love my job. I get free movies and free popcorn. Although I think the best part about my job is that I moved to management pretty fast, and that means I can boss Cartman around all day. I love to tell him to sweep the floor and wipe off the counters. The thing is I really wouldn't have to do this if he did his job correctly.

I guess if I say Cartman is one of the best parts of my job, it is half a lie. Because he also makes my job a living hell at some points. The lousy workers always do. There are a few of them. One of them is Craig, I actually really like Craig but getting him to do a customer service voice is a game I have yet to win at. He often makes customers mad because he talks so deadpan, and that is when I have to swoop in and give them free popcorn or a movie pass so they don't start screaming at me or him.

When I walked into the theater today for my opening shift I had high hopes for a good day. It's the start of January so we haven't had any big movie releases since the last marvel movie that came out two weeks ago. So it should be a nice and slow Monday morning. I unlock the door, and then lock it back up behind me. No one should come to the theater for another hour or so. So it gives me time to get everything set up for the day.

The opening shift is my favorite because it is easy, while also giving you a lot to do. I switch on all the lights so the lobby doesn't look haunted anymore and disarm the alarms. My mental to-do list is pretty short. Turn on lights, Disarm, pin the daily in and out schedule on the back room board, and set up the booth for the movies to run smoothly. Pulling out the schedule I notice that I not only have Craig as an opener but Cartman as a midday shift. I sigh, this was actually probably going to be one of the longest days of the week. I also notice a little name at the bottom “Stan” with a little “T” next to it. God damn it, I also have to train today.

“I'm not training the new kid,” Wendy says from behind me.

“Holy shit! What the fuck” I nearly scream “I didn't know you worked this morning you scared the shit out of me dude.”

“They added me on so you could train and there could still be a manager to yell at Cartman.” She smiles, and then adds “I just got my own set of keys, and you didn't hear me come in dumbass.” she laughs while holding up a shiny set of manager keys.

“I’ll set up the bar if you do the booth?” she asks and I only nod.

“Oh! Katie also sent us an email, apparently, we have a bus coming in around 12 for the flashback movie.”

I groan and put my head against the board. “Is it a Jesus movie?” I ask through closed teeth.

“Yep!” she pops the P at the end.

I don't say anything and give a nod. I start to make my way up the small set of stairs that leads up to the booth and the office.

“And don't forget the lens changes.”

“Thank you, Wendy,” I say and roll my eyes. She only laughs again.

I also really like to work with Wendy, she takes no shit and sometimes that's needed. I am sure it will be needed today when we get a bus full of bible thumpers ready to see whatever movie features the name, Jesus. Plus I can't do much when I have the equivalent of a dumb child to watch over all day, plus the new kid.

After another set of stairs, I finally made it up to the booth. Opening the door to the booth I am hit with the whirring sounds of six projection monitors which are only lit up the soft red glow of those said monitors. I hate the booth, it's fucking scary man. At least it's a small theater so the booth is not that big. Some of the bigger theater chains have at least 12 monitors, and that seems like hell to have a long narrow hallway with the overwhelming sounds of machines.

Carefully I check the show time schedule on each one, while also flipping the thousands of switches to turn the fuckers on. Today only theater 6 and theater 3 need lens changes. Setting an alarm on my phone is the only way I actually remember to climb back into the booth at random points in the day just to make the screen wider. If I don't set an alarm on my phone I get the Human alarm. Which is usually some snobby-looking old lady saying that the screen doesn't fit the ‘picture movie’, and that one is almost always less fun.

After turning on everything I grab a headset as I head to the office. Somehow the tiny office is the most depressing part of the theater. It's cluttered wall to wall with things tacked up on bulletin boards and two small desks with 3 computers jammed on them. We usually only ever use one computer for cameras and the other two are for doing the dumb paperwork that comes with dealing with a business. Logging on I see in our shift notes the first mention of the bus, which was mentioned at 2 AM last night.

On the monitors, there is a sticky note with scribbly handwriting.

“Dear Openers,
The slushy machine needs to be deep cleaned,
And all cash drawers must be recounted before use,
I was unable to count them last night.
Thank You, Katie.”

Katie is the theater owner, she truly means well, just sometimes I think she is unfit for the job she holds.

Carefully I open the safe that holds the cash drawers. Only lifting the three I need, I'll leave the rest to be counted by the night crew. Before I start to count I look at the cameras and see Wendy neatly stacking the liquor bottles in neat rows at the bar. The camera facing the parking lot catches my eye as I see a beat-up red truck pulling in. I roll my eyes at the fact customers are showing up an hour before any show times even start.

Shifting my attention to the task at hand I slowly pull out the coins to count them. I have a system for counting these. Pennies, Nickels, Dimes, Quarters, then I go from smallest bills to largest. Then after you count them you pull out enough money to leave $150 as a starting base for the cashier.

I quietly hum as I push dimes to the side as I count them. It looks like it was a slow night last night because most of the drawers are only around $300. Making it pretty simple to count. As I finish the third drawer I put the leftover money into our bank bag. I am still humming whatever song is left in my head from the ride over this morning.

I am about to unlock the safe and put the cash bag in when I'm jump scared for the second time this morning.

“Oh, I love that song!” A bright voice says from behind me.

“Oh, Jesus!” I drop the bag and it lands with a loud thump.

“Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!” I turn around to see a kid my age with dark hair,

“I’m Stan! Uh, the girl downstairs, Wendy I think, said you were training me today!” he says through an apologetic smile.

“Oh, you're here already!” I smile as I turn around again to put the bag safely into the safe.

“My shift is for 9:30, I’m not too early am I?”

I looked at the time on my phone, somehow it was already 9:15.

“Wow, I didn't even realize the time, sorry! I have been setting everything up.”

Stan smiles, “It’s all good!”

“Do you think you could carry one of these drawers down and I can get you all clocked in after that?” I ask and offer him one of the drawers on the desk which he takes with both hands.

We begin to walk down the stairs when Stan starts to speak again, “The song you were humming, it was off of Lincoln's new Album right?” he asks.

“Dude! You like Lincoln? Sick!” I say with a light tone as we reach the bottom stairs.

“Oh, yea! I love his first EP! I actually got it on vinyl! It's this really pretty blue, one of my favorites to listen to.” he talks excitedly.

“Sweet,” I say as I put the drawers on the counter. I lead Stan over to the time clock where we keep all our time cards. I find his brand new one, which looks starkly different from the other few hanging on the wall. the years of use evident on them. I hand Stan his card.

“Okay, so to clock in you just swipe your card right there, normally we ask that you only clock in five minutes early, but if you'd like we can start the tour before everyone else gets here.”

He nods and quickly swipes his card through the machine which dings with a bright noise indicating that he was officially clocked in for his first day.

“If you just wanna hang here for a second I'm going to put the drawers away and talk with Wendy real quick.” I look at him and he simply nods again as I make my way up front with the drawers.
I put the drawers in their registers and head over to the drink machine where I can hear Wendy's music playing softly. She looks up to me and pauses the music. She has a mischievous grin slapped on her face.

“Hey I’m gonna give the new kid the tour, do you mind unlocking the doors when we open?” I ask.

“Sure!” she answers and then continues, “the new kid is pretty cute if you ask me.”

I just roll my eyes, “gross wendy! Also, that's inappropriate, wouldn't want Katie overhearing you trying to seduce crewmembers, you know she gets with workplace relationships.” I joke.

She laughs with a bright smile, “He’s not my type, but he is definitely yours.”

“My point still stands, that would probably get me fired or demoted,” I say with a serious look.

“Mhm but the good news for you is you only got a month left here and you're free!” she adds.

“Oooookay, anyway, I'm gonna go do my job now. Thanks for this very concerning talk at 9:30 am on a Monday.” I laugh as I walk away.

Wendy's music starts again. I didn't even realize that my last day is coming up in t-minus 5 weeks. I am finally leaving South Park at the start of February . I got this random job as a student counselor at some rich kid camp that is happening in Seattle. I don't come back to South park until the end of July, and then I leave for college mid-august. I don't think I have ever been so excited about something.

Turning the corner to the back I see Stan talking to a very dis-enthused Craig. Stan is definitely not getting the hint and I smile to myself. Okay, maybe today won't be that bad.

When Craig sees me he gets a sour look on his face.

“Kyle, I am pissed at you!” he says with a slightly raised monotone voice.

“What! Why! What did I do? I haven't even spoken to your highness yet.” I laugh.

“Not only am I working a hellish morning shift, but I also have cartman and yappy over here.” he points to stan who looks slightly offended.

“Hey, be nice to the new kid. Although say what you will about Cartmen.” Craig rolls his eyes.

“Oh, we also have a church bus coming in at 12,” I add with a smug smile.

“Yay. I’m sooo happy I work here.” Craig speaks with the most even-toned voice I have ever heard. Earning a laugh from me.

“On that note, Stan want to come with me. I'm gonna show you around.” Stan gives me a look of an acknowledgment as he follows me through the backdoor.

“Okay! Are you ready for your grand tour of the famous South Park theater!” I say in an overly excited tone as I stretch my arms out as if showing something amazing.

Stan smiles and opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by my phone ringing.

“Oh goddamn it! One second.” I sigh as I pull out my phone.

It's lit up with Katie's name. Woah she is up early this morning. She lets me run the morning shifts because she is famously evil in the morning. I answer quickly.

“Uhhhh hello?” I speak.

“Kyle! I just wanted to let you know that that church that is coming in is bringing 150 guests So I called in Kenny for backup.”

“Wait, isn't Kenny supposed to be Usher today?”

“Oh, I guess he is. Well, you can take over the usher cleaning duties. It's not like you and Wendy aren't there. I'm already over-staffed so you'll have to figure it out.’

“But Katie-”

“Alright, I gotta go. I need at least 6 more hours of sleep.” the phone call quickly goes dead.

“Oh Fuck off!” I say to my phone screen and Stan stares at me with wide eyes.

“Oh jeez sorry, I forgot that you were here.”

“It's uh okay,” Stan says as he looks down at the floor.

Nevermind. Today is going to actually suck balls.

Chapter Text

“Okay and then right here is the chemical room, we keep a book in here that tells you what to do if you ever ingest any of these. We only had to use it once when Cartman dared Kenny to eat a sanitizer tablet. They are stupid, don't be like them… please.”

Stan laughs, “I promise!” he says as he raises his hand to his chest like he is making a sacred oath.

I lead him away from the chemical room back to the upfront area Where Craig is silently staring into the window. Stan looks at me nervously.

“Is he always an asshole?” he whispers to me.

It's my turn to laugh as I just nod.

Looking at the clock on the wall I notice that it is only 10:30, giving us time to get the popcorn prepared for the bus coming in. Leading stan to the popcorn Kettle I slowly go over the rules of handling something that reaches 400-500 degrees. All of it is pretty simple. Pour in the kernels, turn on the heat, and add the oil. I walk stan through it. I notice his hands shaking slightly when he pours in the oil.

I place my hand on his shoulder, “aw dude don't be nervous this shit is easy!”

He looks embarrassed and rolls his eyes.
Alrighty then, don't tell any man that you can tell he is nervous, they might turn into a monster.

Taking my hand away I pull out the small cups we keep for popcorn that goes to bus loads. Thankfully Wendy already counted the number of cups we need.

“Okay, when the popcorn is done popping you'll know because the popping noise will stop! It’s really hard stuff!” I joke. “Once it's done popping we are gonna fill these cups, the bus requested no butter on anything so it should be very quick!”

As I say this Cartman walks through the door with his uniform barely buttoned and an evil grin on his face. Damn, here comes the tidal wave of bullshit.

“Good Morning Craig, and new guy!” he smiles politely to both, only earning a wave from Stan, Craig doesn't even acknowledge anyone walking through the door.

“Ah, looking happy as ever Craig!” Cartman laughs. I roll my eyes.

Cartman's tone flatlines, “Oh morning Kyle I was hoping that you would have called in sick again today.”

“Nice to see you too Cartman, Listen we got a bus coming in for a church around 12, so could you please actually help today.”

“Oh, are you scared that they'll take one look at you and start to pray your gay away? God save the Fa-”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll send you right up the stairs to talk to Wendy.” I smiled at him.

Groans and goes to clock in. God today may actually be hell on earth. Stan is looking confused. But as if an actual light bulb went on inside his head he opened his mouth to speak.

“Ohhhhh are you guys like ex-boyfriends or something?” He says as if he has cracked the code. This actually earns a loud laugh from Craig. If looks could kill I think I could've killed him right there, and he stops.

“Sick dude! No way, I just hate him. He is just mad because in high school I beat the shit out of him in a fight. People never let him forget that the gay nerdy kid broke his nose. How the hell did you even draw that conclusion?” I smile at the memory of hearing Cartman's cries as he rushed to the nurse’s room.

The popcorn starts to stop popping and Stan does not seem to notice, as he looks like he is about to respond, so I pull the lever down.

“When the popcorn stops popping we pull the lever down so it doesn't burn. If it burns it smells bad.” I state matter of factly.

“Oh Sorry.”

I just nod and show Stan how to fill the cups. Really riveting stuff going on here. Catman makes his way to a register and starts talking to an unresponsive Craig.
“Hey Kyle, I need you upstairs for a second, the movie in theater three is showing red warning signs on the computer.” I hear Wendy's crackly voice over the headset.

“Hey Craig, will you keep an eye on Stan, I gotta run to the office real quick.” Craig nods and I'm off to the office.

When I arrive Wendy shows me the red flashing warning. It's honestly a good thing I know Booth because Wendy is hopeless. The banner is showing the sign that the booth is too hot for the monitors. Thank god, all I have to do is place a fan in front of the monitor.

“Oh it's all good, it's just getting too hot!”

I go up the stairs to the booth and turn on one of the fans we place in front of the monitors. This is pretty common, thankfully it's an easy fix. But if it gets left untreated it could lead to an internal fire.

Walking back down Wendy is waiting for me.

“How is the new kid doing?” She asks

“He is fine, I think he might be a little dumb,” I say sincerely, “ he thought Cartman and I were ex-lovers.” Wendy laughs so hard she has tears spilling from her eyes.

“Holy shit, that is actually the description of hell. If that ever happened I would know I died and went to hell” I barely understand her from how broken her sentence is due to the laughing. I can't help it and let out a chuckle.

I stop laughing as I smell the horrid smell of burning popcorn.

“No god damn it!”

Wendy stops too as she covers her nose. “Already!” She whines.

I run down the stairs and upfront where Stan is looking stressed as he desperately tries to get all the burnt popcorn out of the kettle as Cartman laughs and Craig looks annoyed.

“God, how did this even happen, you should’ve-”

“It was Cartman's fault he kept trying to get Stan to read different movie descriptions to him” Craig states.

“Well, why didn't you dump it!” Wendy says through closed teeth.

“It was a new kid's job to watch popcorn, I’m looking out for customers.” He points to the empty parking lot.

I pinch the bridge of my nose so I don't pull out my hair. “Jesus Christ.”

Just then a bus with a painted cross pulls in.

“Look what you did Kyle, you beckoned them in!” Wendy chirps. Thankfully there were only a few cups empty. I grab them and fill them with the popcorn we had in the bin.

“Oh jeez Kyle, I’m sorry!” Stan says panicked.

“All good!” I say with a fake smile.

All 150 churchgoers rush to our doors at the same time. The line for the concession stand is out the door. I really think this is the last place on earth I'd rather be right now. Looking through the crowd I see an orange hood squeezing through them. Oh, thank God!

“Kenny, thank god, clock in and get on a register we need all the hands we got. Kenny quickly disappears to the back and then reemerges and gets on the drawer next to cartman.

“For now stan we are just gonna hand out the popcorn, register work is for the second day”

“That is a relief!” Stan mumbles.

Stan and I quickly hand out the pre-ordered popcorn and drinks as the other three deal with all other purchases, like candy and the occasional order of a larger popcorn.

The busyness made the day go by pretty fast. Before I knew it it was already nearing 3 pm. Watching the church leave in one huddled mess reminded me that I was the one who was supposed to clean the theaters.

I look over to see Craig and Kenny cleaning the explosion of popcorn that was in front of the house. Stan was closely watching the popcorn pop while Cartman just stared down at his phone. God, I hate working with him.

“Cartman go clean the pop machines.” He looks up and rolls his eyes, but walks away with a spray bottle and towel in hand.

“Hey Stan, after that next batch, you and I are going to clean the theater.”

Kenny looks up at this, “Man tell Katie to never put me up front again. Usher will always be so much better.”

Rolling my eyes I just nod. I will never tell Katie that, I think her brain would melt out of her ears.

Stan dumps the popcorn and talks off his gloves and looks at me. I grab a spray bottle and a broom. “Lucky for you, after this you can clock off!”

He smiles, “Thank God” he claps his hands and looks to the sky.

“Aw I wasn't that bad was I?” I laugh.

“No, you were by far the only good part.” He jokes

“It’s a dark day in hell when Kyle is the best part of a job!” Wendy adds behind us.

“Hey!” I jokingly yell, and Stan laughs.

“Okay let's go do this, the good thing about churches is they usually do a good job of picking up after themself!” I exclaim while I open the door to see everything seat still has a popcorn bucket spilled over it.

“Damn! You spoke too soon dude! You jinxed us!”

“Holy fucking shit man, I have never seen a theater so bad. Man fuck God” I raise my middle finger to the ceiling.

“Dude! Don't say that your gonna get some sort of disease now!” Stan looks over at me worriedly.

Triumputhy I say “I got him beat! I already have those!”

Stan looks confused but shakes it off, “I don't think that's something to brag about.”

“Eh whatever.”

I start to sweep the theater and stan follows along. The movie soundtrack is now fading out into whatever royalty-free music the theater plays in between showings. The two of us work quietly and get the theater done within 20 minutes.

We now both stand at the top of the auditorium.

“Congrats! You have officially finished your first day. How do you feel?” I ask.

“It was somehow both harder and easier than I expected it to be.”

I nod along with that statement, “So do you have any questions?” I look at him. He gets a slight blush across his face. Oh god, what the hell is about to come out of his mouth?

“Uh yeah, but it's not work-related,” he stops

I bite my tongue and urge him to continue.

“Is that girl Wendy single?” I don't know what sounds more appealing, rolling my eyes or laughing in his face.

“Sorry dude, according to page 24 in the handbook Manager-crewmember relationships are not allowed. Both parties get fired if they are caught.” I state.

Stan only looks torn up for a second before asking, “How long does it take to become a manager.”

This time I roll my eyes, “come on stan, you need to clock out.”

For some reason, the idea of Stan trying to get it on with Wendy actually irritates me. The fact that it's this kid's first day and the only question is whether or not the only female in the theater all day is single. I hate straight men.

Looks like it's still just me and Craig in our little club. I think as I watch Stan clock out.

“Alright, see you tomorrow,” I say.

“Okay have a good day!” Stan says with a smile.

“Yep, you too.” I don't turn to him as I make my way to the office.

There is a small beat before Stan takes his eyes off me and begins to head to the door.

When I make it to the office I see Wendy and Katie sitting there. Both talk about how the day ran. They don't notice me at first as I take my headset off. I sit in one of the office chairs and let my body deflate and sink into the chair.

“Oh, Kyle! How was the new kid?” Katie asks.

“Pretty good, Smarter than Cartman! So that's a win.” This earns a laugh from Wedny and an eye roll from Katie.

“Speaking of Cartman, I have to go talk to him, some customer said he heard him swear.” Katie breathes angrily as she leaves the theater.

Wendy looks at me, “Soooo give me the details!”

“Not much there, he is basically the most normal guy you'll ever meet seems like.” Wendy looks disappointed.

“Oh and he asked if You were single,” I say through a fake laugh.

“Gross! He is not my type! Did you tell him that?” She shrieks

“I let him down more gently.” I look at her.

She nods and looks at me with a softer look, “Any news from the Doctor yet? You look a lot worse than ever before.”

“Woah! Tell me how you really feel, Wendy!” I joke.
“I’m being so serious right now Kyle, you have no idea.”

“Jesus, okay, no. But I’m heading to the office,” I look at my phone, “right now!”

“Let me know!” She hands me my hat and car keys as I get up.

“I will!” I smile and leave the office.

With that, I clock off and head to my car. At least it wasn't too awful at work.

Chapter Text

The theater wasn't that bad. I mean sure sometimes it was really annoying. Like when Cartmen does nothing, or when Kenny yells fuck from a near theater and we get like 1,000 complaints. I think the worst part is how stressed out Kyle gets when literally anything goes wrong. Sometimes I feel like I'm working with a ticking time bomb with red hair. It can be so annoying.

I've been working here for like a week now and it's so easy that I have basically mastered it. Well, I think so at least, Kyle is always there to point out something I rang up wrong, or sometimes he just looks so disappointed. Like damn, leave the disappointment for my dad. But really I don't think he is that bad, he is just… a preferred taste.

I opened with Cartman today, so I basically opened by myself. Wendy is already here, and she is doing her best to never look at me. Kyle has a big mouth. He had said he was gay, but I think he is doing his best to keep Wendy to himself, they are basically inseparable. After my first day, I sometimes see Wendy talking to him in hushed tones and Kyle just staring at the ground not saying anything. I would love to be a fly on the wall for those conversions.

Thankfully it has been so fucking slow all day. Most days I am basically getting paid for standing around. So I really shouldn't complain that much. The only coworker I actually like is Tweek. I just think he is so funny. The bad thing is that he and Craig are dating so I choose to keep my space so that way I do not upset that asshole.
When Tweek is working he has this amazing switch in personality when talking to customers, and then when they walk away his face goes flat and he usually says something like,

“Fuck you.” Or “Ugly ass bitch” Which really never fails to make me laugh.

At around 12 Kyle walks in looking overworked. Maybe that's why he can be such a dick, he is spread thin. The bags under his eyes look almost scary and his hair is left frizzy. Which is so unusual. Usually, kyle walks in with a smile and his hair nicely combed the curls in it looking shiny and bouncy.

“Hey Kyle,” I say softly, “You okay?”

It takes him a second to process his words and his eyes still look blank, “Hey Stan, up I’m all good. How are you? Everything went smoothly this morning.”

I answer his question while he tries to look like he is listening but can't for the life focus on what I am saying.
“Kyle, you look even shittier than usual! Did you get it too hard last night?” Cartman snickers.

Kyle says nothing and walks up to the office.

“Dude he seems sick!” I say to Cartman in an attempt to get him off Kyle’s back.

“He’s fakin'!” he whines.

I have only been here a week and I already want to bang my head against the wall every time Cartman speaks. I just roll my eyes and walk back to the register I was working on.

Kenny rounds the coroner with a shit-eating grin but slips on a drink someone spilled. I can't help but laugh. Kenny jumps back up and wipes off his shirt and vest that he is forced to wear when he works usher.

“Stan the man! You didn't tell me that your last name is Marsh!” He quips.

I raise an eyebrow at him and shrug my shoulders, “and?”

Kenny leans in closer, “That means you got the best weed in a 100-mile radius!”

“Oh no not me, my dad.” I laugh.

“Come on, let's have a smoke tonight. We are both off at 3!’ Kenny flutters his eyelashes “Please.” He asks in a high-pitched voice.

I look down at Kenny, “alright man why not, we can take my truck!”

“Woohoo!” he shouts and skips away, this time he only nearly misses the puddle.

I wonder what he is like high. I mean, that kid seems like he has 2 things on his brain at all times. Boobs and weed. So it might actually be fun.

I walk over to the small puddle and mop it up with a towel.

“You know Cartman you could actually help, I wouldn't tell anyone.” I tease.

“Dude there are cameras everywhere, I couldn't let Kyle see me doing my job. That would be bad for my mental health!”

I let out a huff of air as I threw the dirty towel at Cartman's face. It hits him with a quiet puff of air.

“Screw you!” Cartman shouts.

“Hey Stan, can you come to help me clean the guest room? Cartman I need you to watch up front for like an hour.” Kyle says from behind Cartman making both of us jump.

“Dude you come out of nowhere,” I say as I grasp my chest. Kyle just smiles slightly and disappears to the back waiting for me to follow him.

“Aw man, Why do I have to stay up front?” Cartman Complains.

“Would you rather spend an hour with me?” Kyle shouts from the back.

I chuckle as I race to catch up with Kyle. He hands me a box of decorations as he holds a vacuum and other cleaning supplies. He leads me into a room I had only seen once on the tour. It is a beautiful room, with black walls and gold accents. The whole thing has a 1920's speakeasy feel to it.

“You guys hold kid parties here?” I question.

“Oh no, this is for the other stupid shit that people rent rooms for.” Kyle sets down the vacuum and looks at a piece of paper, “this is for a comic book store party.”

“I think they would like the kid's room better!”

“Mhm me too, but Katie insists that we use this room for all parties that aren't for 8-year-olds. I mean it is beautiful. I’m pretty sure half of the theater's budget went into this room that only gets used once every 4 months.” He sighs.

I start to pull out the decorations. Many streamers that match the theme and a few gold table toppers. At the bottom is a bag of unused gray balloons.

“Will you just hang the streamers up, you can stand on the table to do so. And you need to blow up 20 balloons. I gotta dust and wipe everything down.”

“Aw man, I actually can't blow them up, I’ll have an asthma attack,” I say. I expect some sort of protest from Kyle but he just looks at me, and then from nowhere he laughs so hard his eyes water. I have never actually heard Kyle laugh, for some reason it gives me a sense of pride hearing it.

“What! What is so funny? It's a life-threatening illness!” I defend as I start to stand on the table to hang the streamers.

Kyle starts to laugh even harder. “It's not that-” he breaks with more laughter, “It’s just that you sounded so sad about it.” he starts to wipe tears from his eyes.

“I see, my sadness brings you joy!” I play along. I like laughing Kyle. I want to keep him laughing.

“Only sometimes!” his laughter dies down a bit.

I made a fake pouting face at him, my bottom lip stuck out and all.

“Can you at least help me blow up a few?” he chuckles. I nod with a smile.

The time goes by quickly and mostly silently. The only sound was Kyle humming a song that sounded familiar but I couldn't quite pinpoint. Before I know it the last thing we have to do is blow up the stupid balloons. We both sit down at one of the tables and face each other.

“You gotta tell me what song you were humming or it's going to bug me all day,” I say dramatically.

Kyle just looks up at me, his eyes are playful, and he sings,
“we may as well go home,
as I did on my own,
Alone again naturally.”

He stops and starts to blow up a gray balloon. His voice was, well it was actually heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Why are you playfully humming one of the saddest songs ever written.”

He laughs, “ I was watching Rio last night, and it's in that movie.”

I couldn't hold back my laughter, “Dude what? You're crazy!”

He playfully smacks my arm, “Ow!” I joke.

“Shut up and get blowing, boy!”

I look at him for a moment, “hmmm wanna rephrase that?” I say as I take a deep breath and try my hardest to push the air into the balloon, but the air goes nowhere.

Kyle looks at me lazily, “I’m going to let you figure out how to do this. You must learn at some point.”

I roll my eyes, “Whatever.” I said lightly, “Anyway I didn't see you on the schedule, were you called in?” I add.

Kyle ties off the balloon he was working on, “No, I'm only here till three just getting the room ready for this stupid party.”

I let out a small ‘oh’ as I tried and failed to blow up this dumb balloon. Kyle is already 10 balloons in. So I keep trying, and by the time I look up Kyle is done with all the other balloons staring at me trying to hold in a giggle. I can feel my breath slowly rasp at the overuse.

“Sorry, I need to catch my breath for a second,” I say as I take a few deep breaths of air, trying and failing not to panic as I feel the air leave my lungs.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Kyle begins to panic.

I nod and pull out my inhaler, taking a few puffs to get my breath even again. “Yeah, I just need a break for a second.” He nods.

“All good with me, believe it or not, I don't mind wasting time today,” he says.

“Kyle I have only known you for a week, but even I know that it is the most out-of-character thing you have ever said in your entire life.” I breathlessly say taking another puff of my inhaler.

Kyle looks down and shrugs and does that fake chuckle that he thinks no one can see through.

“I know you don't really like me, but you can tell me if something is wrong. I mean you are like my favorite manager. If I had to spend the rest of my time here with just Wendy, Butters, and Katie I think I would quit.” I say honestly.

Kyle looks offended, “What! I don't dislike you! In fact, this is how I act to people I like!” He gestures widely.

“You're deflecting the question!” I point a finger at him.

Kyle rolls his eyes but regains his pasture, “It's not really that big of a deal, but I was supposed to leave for Seattle in like 3 weeks, but I have to push it back indefinitely now.” he sighs.

“Aw man that sucks, I’m sorry to hear that.” Kyle waves his hand like it doesn't matter. “Woah woah wait, You're telling me that you were going to leave me here in three weeks? After I just said you were my favorite manager!”

Kyle laughs again and I give myself a proud smile, “Dude don't be so dramatic!”

He then pulls out a balloon, “okay let me teach you how to do this.” he gives a step-by-step. Which I follow closely. It only takes too many tries but I finally blow up the balloon.

“I did it!” Kyle gives me loud claps while laughing. “Oh damn, I have no idea how to tie it.”

“Give it here, that's a lesson for another day.” I hand the balloon to Kyle. He ties it effortlessly.

Before I know what I am saying the words come out of my mouth, “Kenny and I are hanging out after work, we are all out at 3. If uh if you want to join us.” I rush.

Kyle looks up at me in surprise like he has never been invited anywhere. Damn.

“I don't know-” he begins

“Oh Jesus, don't tell me that on page 26 it says you can't have friends,” I say.

Kyle giggles, “okay I’ll go with you guys.”

“Wait I should warn you that we are definitely going to smoke weed, I live on like the biggest weed farm in South Park,” I explain.

“You know stan, nothing in the world sounds better than getting high out of my mind.” He says.

I smile, “perfect, we are taking my truck!”

Chapter Text

“Kenny, do you care if Kyle comes with us?” I ask Kenny who is leaning against a wall next to theater 4. He looks up at me in shock.

“No way you got Kyle, the Kyle, to come smoke with us?!” he almost shouts.

“So, you don't care?”

“Hell no! I love Kyle. I've been trying to get him to hang out with me for years. The real question is how did you make him say yes?” he nudges my shoulder.

“Somehow you've only been here a week and Kyle already likes you more than me. I don't appreciate that.” he jokes.

I shift to walk away, “yeah well what can I say I'm a charmer!” joking lightly.

Kenny grabs my arm, “But be nice to him Stan, I'm for real. He has got a lot of shit going on right now.” he looks at me straight in the eyes, “It’s a good thing he is coming out with us though it might take his mind off things.” Kenny adds.

“What do you mean?” I ask sincerely.

“Well, if I tell you, you cannot bring it up. He will never tell me anything ever again.”
I nod.

“Kyle is sick, he won't tell me what's wrong, but whatever it is, it made him cancel his plans to leave for Seattle. Which he has been planning for like a year.”

“He told me he only had to push it back a while,” I mutter.

“Yea while that is Kyle for ya. He doesn't like pity. He likes to be seen as a person who no one can touch. But that isn't how humans work.” he stops for a moment. “Man I really love him though. He is a badass, you should have seen him in high school. After beating the shit out of cartman no one dared to do anything. And if they did well…" Kenny finished by making a whooping sound.

3 o’clock came quickly after the little talk with Kenny. Before I knew it, Kyle, Kenny, and I were all walking to my truck. Kyle picks up his pace just a tiny bit.

“I call shotgun.” He yells as he reaches the door handle. Kenny just makes a muffled grumbling noise.

Thankfully, the ride to my house was short and filled with Kenny telling the lewdest stories ever known to man. Kyle was just giggling every time Kenny had something new to say. He would even start arguments against Kenny, refuting that anything coming out of Kenny's mouth was not true. It was fun to watch them interact, I could see the years of friendship that they had under their belt. Even if they weren't super close as Kenny hinted.

“We are here!” I take a sharp turn into my driveway. Kenny does a ragdoll move in the back.
“Please Kenny, that wouldn't have happened if you just had your seatbelt on.” Kyle Tuts.

“You didn't wear your seatbelt!” I fake yell.

Kenny rolls his eyes, “Okay mom and dad. I'll be safer next time.”

“Tsk Tsk.” Kyle shakes his head.

Parking the truck, Kenny nearly sprints to my front door and bounces excitedly while he waits for Kyle and me to reach the door. Opening the door we make our way through the old farmhouse that my mom tried to make a home, but my dad just hung up more pictures of weed. I actually don't mind it anymore.

I am silently happy that my room isn't a complete disaster right now. Mostly everything is put away. Besides the few crates of records, I have scattered around. My desk looks like a jumbled assortment of shit, but surprisingly neither Kenny nor Kyle seems to care. Kyle starts going through my records, carefully flipping through each crate. Pulling out albums he knows.

“You ready Ken?” I ask,

“Duh!”

I open the last drawer in my desk and pull out one of the many pre-rolls I have stashed in there. I am guessing we will be using more than one so I keep the drawer open.

“Oh, dude I love this album! Can we play it!” Kyle says excitedly as he pulls out the one and only TV Girl album I have. It’s not that I don't like them, but a girl once told me it was a red flag that I listened to them.

“Sure man, you know how to set it up?”. Kyle nods a response.

As I light the first pre-roll I hear the soft sounds of “French Exit” playing as kyle scoots close to Kenny and I. Passing the joint along to each other I can feel everyone in the room start to relax visibly.

By the end of the song “Birds don't sing”, which when it started to play Kyle stated was his favorite TV Girl song, we were already lighting up a second joint. Not many words were spoken during this time. Kenny had laid his head against the backboard of my bed, and Kyle had taken to laying on the ground, hands behind his head.

“Dude, that looks so comfortable,” I say as I plop right next to him. Kenny Soon follows and lies on the other side of Kyle.

“Kyle,” he turns his face to me and a light smile plays along his lips, “I want you to know that I was once told that it is a Red Flag for men to Listen to TV Girl,” I say seriously.

Kyle gives a booming laugh. And I think that my ears are popping at the sound. It is so abruptly different than the other sounds happening. “No no no, that's only for straight men.”

Kenny looks over for the first time, his eyes barely open. “Kyle, don't be heterophobic!” he jokes. Kyle just shrugs.
“Man! I'm not even straight! I’m bi!” I say defensively.

This caused Kenny to shoot up to his elbows and shriek “No Way! You're a queer!”

Kyle’s body is going into the fetal position facing Kenny as he grabs his sides from laughing. “Welcome to the club!” He laughs.

For some reason within my current mindset I am mildly annoyed he didn't roll to face me when he laughed.

“I think this is the best reaction I've gotten to coming out.” I smirk, “but do I really seem that straight?”

“YES!” Kenny and Kyle answer in unison.

We remain in a blissful silence as the record begins to fade and Kyle gets up to switch to side two.

“Stan, can I lay in your bed?” Kenny asks.

“Sure man I don't care.”

“Kenny! Throw me a pillow!” Kyle barely finishes as he gets a pillow to the face.

“Me too!” Kenny throws one at me but I am able to catch it.

“Show off!” Kyle sighs.

Kyle and I are now again facing the ceiling. I close my eyes and get lost in the soft sounds of “Lovers rock”.

Kyle side-eyes me, “Where did you go to school?” he asks bluntly.

“I went to South park Elementary for like 2 years, but I was sent away to boarding school after that.”

Kyle gasps. “Dude! We were friends! Don't you remember!” Kyle shouts.

“To be honest no, but I really don't remember anything from before boarding school,” I say honestly.

“I knew you looked familiar. Dude, we would wait at the bus stop together. The first day we met my little brother followed me to school. And my parents came and picked him up, but we were certain that it was aliens.” Kyle's eyes were wide with memories.

“I feel like you are lying to me!” I say.

“No, I’m so not! Then one time I got sick in fourth grade, I needed some sort of surgery, and you brought a huge get well soon card, which said that we were “Super best friends””

“Wait! It had a bunch of glitter on it, and the doctors got mad because the glitter got in the sheets!” I say finally being able to visualize it.

“Yes!! Man we were so close, and then one day you just never came back.” he remembers, “Why did you go to boarding school?” He turns his body to me.

“Well, I started to have a drinking problem at the ripe old age of 10, and then I tried to set this house on fire because I hated it. So my parents sent me to this boarding school. Which I actually liked. I finished out all of my schooling there.” I add “I’m glad I went, it honestly made me a better person!” I say proudly.

“I am so happy for you dude!” Kyle says sincerely.

“It's crazy that we met again! It’s fate! Super Best friends forever man!” This would normally be really embarrassing to say, but my defenses are down and Kyle doesn't seem to care. He smiles brightly at me and nods.

It's now that I notice Kenny staring down at us from the bed, a fake sense of disappointment on his face, “Kyle I’ve known you consistently since third grade but you have never called me your super best friend!” Kenny pouts.

Kyle puts his hands up in defense, “Rolls taken Kenny!” he laughs.

Kenny looks at me, but I just stick up the shape of an L with my fingers. This causes Kenny to break into a fit of laughter.

The record slowly fades out and Kyle gets up to change it. He ends up with some random Classic rock album that I have probably never listened to. He also turned it up just slightly. I can feel the sound waves bouncing off my body. Kyle also swipes a large blanket from my bed and lays back down. I steal some of the blankets from him, which he starts to protest but gives in quickly. Before I knew what was happening I was swept into a calm sleep.

When I woke up it was dark outside. Coming back to my senses I noticed that me and Kyle's faces are facing each other and in fact are only inches apart. I feel the heat rise to my face as I carefully get up so as to not wake him.

I notice Kenny awake on his phone. A Small smirk on his face. I roll my eyes.

“Alright Sir, hand in the picture.” I extend my hand.

“No,” he says simply. “You can see it, but no you may not delete it. I have a deep feeling I need this.”

“First off don't blackmail people, and second off sober Kyle will freak out and never hang out with us again.”

Kenny knows I'm right, and I can see the gears turning in his head. “I won't let anyone else see it, but I will not delete it!”

“Why not!”

“Because it could be important one day!” Kenny says.

I want to continue the argument but just as I open my mouth Kyle’s voice breaks through the room.

“Holy shit, what time is it?”

Kenny and I turn to him. “It's 8:46. Want me to drive you guys back to your cars?” it had been like 3 hours since we smoked, and none of us felt the relaxing effects anymore.

“Awww no sleepover?” Kenny pouts.

“Uh no, unless one of you wants to wake up at 6 am to take me to work!” Kyle says as he grabs his coat.

“Ew, why are you working at 6 am?” I ask

“I have to install new seat covers for one of the theaters. It's going to be soooo fun!” he says sarcastically.

The car ride doesn't have Kenny telling any playful stories. Kyle had asked to play music so I handed him my phone which had Bluetooth. He stayed on my phone for quite a minute, queuing songs. He even played the Lincoln song that he was humming on my first day.

Pulling into the theater Kenny is the first to get out. He hopes out after a quick goodbye. Leaving both Kyle and me shocked.

I parked the truck next to Kyle's car. As he exits he says “Text me, dude!”

I give him a confused look “I don't have your number?”

“Uh yes you do,” he says as he ducks out and closes the door. He waves goodbye as he gets into his own car, racing out of the parking lot quickly after.

I pick up my phone and open my contacts and search his name and sure enough, I find his new contact.

“Kyle B- From Work”

I smirk as I type out,

“Is this the Kyle B - From work?!”

I close my phone and turn on TV Girl for the ride home.

Chapter Text

I don't think I am that good at keeping secrets. For the past two weeks, I have been hiding things from everyone. One only Wendy knows, and the other only Stan knows. At this point, I am unsure of which one is going to cause a greater uproar. I don't think they are bad. I just think maybe I shouldn't be hiding things. I keep having these dreams where people start to find things out before I am ready to tell them and everything gets all fucked. Fuck my guilty conscious.

Anyway, the point is, today I am letting more people in on it. Today, on one of the two days off I get a week I am going to talk to Katie, and then I’m going to text Wendy, and finally, for a grand finale, I am going to hang out with Stan.

The short walk from my car into the almost empty theater is cold. The end of January winds is getting more bitter rather than less. The snow sits on the ground in huge piles. Most of it is brown from the shit that flies off cars. For some reason though, I don't mind. Although, My favorite is when you wake up and see untouched snow, how it hurts your eyes to look at it. But honestly, it's a little heartwarming to know that there are people to fuck it up and make it ugly.

Walking in I see Butters leaning against the wall as Craig frantically tries to run his hand underwater.

“Craig, buddy, I told you that would happen,” Butters says sweetly. My favorite thing about Butters is that he could say the most fucked up shit you have ever heard but he really has no malice behind it, so it just turns out kinda cute.

“Oh, Hi-a Kyle! How are you doing?” Butters asks when he sees me.

I give a smile, “Great, what is going on over there?” I stick my thumb out to point at Craig.

“This fella thought it would be smart to reach his hand to the backside of the kettle and burned the goodness out of his arm!” Butters laughs lightly.

“I was trying to clean it!” Craig says through gritted teeth.

I roll my eyes and go to the back where we keep the burn spray and cooling cream. We keep it downstairs now because this happens like every other week. I even got a fucking third-degree burn from the stupid machine, my skin is still a little lighter where the burn happened.

Walking over to Craig I motion for him to hold out his arm, which does have a pretty big red spot that looks like it may be blistering. I hand him the cream as I spray his arm without warning.

He sucks in the air through his teeth. “Fuck Kyle!”

“Hey man you gotta do it by surprise or else you'd pussy out.” I shrug.

“Did you just swear up front?” Butters widens his eyes.

“Butters, I'm not even on the clock,” I respond over my shoulder.

Craig gingerly puts the cooling cream on his arm as I hold out a bandage, and wrap it around his arm.

This is how I knew I would be good with the kids in Seattle because I already work with some. I can handle tantrums, burns, cuts, and bruises. Everyone here has taught me that. My heart shatters at the thought of not only losing Seattle but also losing the theater.

Craig snaps me out of my thoughts, “Dude are you okay?” His voice is just a slightly more concerned version of his monotone.

“What? Yeah, why wouldn't I be?” I smile,

He still looks unsure, “Your skin tone looks off.”

Jesus, I should've told people like 2 weeks ago, my nightmares are coming true. “Oh yeah, I'm all good! Just warming up from the cold.”

“Okay. Thanks for the bandage.” He turns to look at Butters who is raising his eyebrow at me.

“Why are you here on your day off? You usually wouldn't be caught dead here!”

“Yeah, still true, but I gotta talk to Katie, is she upstairs?”

Now both Butters and Craig look at me strangely, “Why?” Butters asks, mildly nervous. “Nothing happened right?” his concern growing.

“What? No, everything is good, I promise!” I lie with a smile. What they don't know doesn’t kill them.

“Uh, yea she's upstairs.”

The talk with Katie went well. She took it well. There was no pushback, and now my last day is this Friday. Explaining this to Stan would probably be harder than Katie. Surprisingly Stan and I have been hanging out every day for the past two weeks. Which is the secret I’m keeping from Wendy.

I don't think she will care, but having her in my ear about how close stan and I are would probably make me rip my ears off.

I pull out my phone and search for Wendy in my contacts, while searching, a Message from Stan pops up.

“Hey man! Are we still good for 6? We can meet at Tweeks!”

Honestly, I didn't think I could get so close to someone within three weeks, but with Stan it's easy. It’s like we picked up where we left off all those years ago. We have been messaging ever since I sent the school photo I found of us, the one my mom took, on the first day of fourth grade. It was just Stan and I standing at the bus stop, his arm laced over my shoulders with innocent smiles on our faces.

“Sounds great! See you soon. :)”

Before I can let the anxiety of dropping a bombshell on Stan I call Wendy who almost picks up immediately.

“Kyle! How did it go?” She asks as soon as the call starts.

“It went well! Katie was very sweet!” I answer with a smile.

“Well, I mean Kyle, how could she not? Like that would be fucked up.”

“It’s not that serious, I promise!” and then I add, “My last day is Friday, what are you going to do without me.”

“Probably replace you with Butters.”

“Hey! No one could replace me... If I die you better not replace me with Butters!” I laugh.

Wendy chuckles but then says seriously, “You cannot die, Katie would hang a huge memorial plaque in the back room and then I would have to be sad every day at work.”

“I’m not going to die, Wendy!”

“I know! I just worry!” there is a beat then, “Did you tell your parents yet?”

I shudder at the thought of my mom finding out anything, “Not yet, we aren't there. Plus I'm almost 20, and I don't even live with them anymore!” I say defensively.

I bought a small apartment in South Park not long after I got out of high school. I liked living on my own. In a small Studio that is actually pretty grimy, but I made it my own. My lease is actually up in like 2 weeks, so soon I probably will be back with my parents. But I wasn't planning on coming back to South park. I had everything planned. All the way to the acceptance letter from the University of Washington for next fall. Now I'm unsure if I can even accept it.

“I know, but don't you think they should know?”

“They will, but can you picture my mom finding out right now, she would be sending me hot soup every day and calling every 5 seconds.”

Wendy laughs. Thankfully she changes the subject. “What are you doing?”

She set me up perfectly, “I’m actually going to get coffee with Stan in about 10 minutes.”

“What!”

“We've actually been hanging out a lot.”

“What!!” she exclaims again, “And when were you planning on telling me?” she laughs

“Today?” I say uncertainty.

Wendy laughs again, “If you replace me with Stan I will replace you with Butters!”

“No one could ever replace you Wendy, my one true love!” I say sarcastically

“I like that you replacing me with Stan is romantic, ‘one true love’. I got the hint, Kyle.” She giggles.

I feel my face heat up, “Wendy! You know I didn't mean that!”

“I know I know. I’m happy you guys are close, you need more masculine energy in your life. We have been painting our nails together too much.”

“Oh no, that's not stopping, that is our after-work Wednesday ritual!”

Wendy hums a response.

“Okay, I gotta go, or else I’ll be late!”

“Oh yes! You can't be late for your little coffee date.” Wendy again laughs. She hung up before I could yell at her.

The ride to the coffee shop was a short one, and I got there a minute early. I can see Stan already in the shop scrolling on his phone. Damn, I hope he wasn't waiting long.

The small bell on the door rings as I walk in, Tweek looks up at me and gives a small jittery wave.

Stan looks up at me when I sit at the booth with him.

“Hey man! How are you!” Stan smiles.

“I'm doing pretty good, how are you?”

“I'm great! Wanna order, I was thinking we could go back to your place and watch a movie! I got the cult classic,” Stan holds up an old CD, “The Devil's Rejects” he smiles wider.

“Devils Rejects?” I ask.

Stan's smile drops, “You've never seen it?” he basically shouts.

“...no?” I laugh.

“Well, now we have to!”

“Okay, but after we get coffee?”

Stan nods and stands and I follow. Stan orders first, and he gets a hot chocolate.

“That is definitely not Coffee” I tease,

“I don't know how you drink that stuff so late.” He answers simply and steps aside so I can tell Tweek my order.

“Hey Tweek, Can I just get a cafe Latte please?” I ask.

Tweek nods as he pulls out a cup and writes the order on it with Sharpie. I begin to pay but Tweek stops me.

“On me! Thanks -agh- for saving Craig's ass at the theater today, he is being such a baby about a little burn.” Tweek says this as he lifts his fingers which are covered in bandaids from the small burns he gets from twitching near scalding hot water.

“Oh no biggie, thanks Tweek!” I say as I put a 5 in the tip jar. Tweek beams, but quickly turns and gets started on the order.

I look at Stan who is looking at me with a suspicious look on his face.

“What?”

“Why were you at the theater on your day off, you never do that!”

Damn, I am not ready yet. Not ready to see Stan give me those stupid sad puppy eyes. “Oh Uhm, well,” I stuttered, this confusing Stan even more, “I’ll tell you in the car.”

Stan drops it and continues conversing normally until we get our drinks, which Tweek hands off with a slight twitch making the hot coffee spill onto his fingers, adding a new burn mark.

I take the cup gratefully and Stan and I head to the car.

“Did you walk here?” I asked surprised,

“Yeah dude, it's like the nicest day of January!”

“Really? It feels fucking cold to me.” with that Stan Shrugs.

Before I even close the car door, Stan asks the question, “Okay Kyle what is going on?” He gives me a concerned look.

“Well, I had to let Katie know that I have to leave the theater sooner than expected.” I look at Stan's face as he awaits an explanation, “Well, my last day is Friday.”

“WHAT! But that is like almost a week sooner! I thought you weren't going to Seattle anymore.” Stan looks hurt as we make eye contact, he rushes, “I mean it's not that I don't want you to go to Seattle, of course, I do, It will be great for you! I’ll just, well, I’m going to-”

I cut him off, “Stan I’m not going to Seattle. I'll still be in South park.”

“But then why are you leaving the theater, I thought you liked it!” he says even more confused.

“I do! I do love the theater!” I say defensively.

Stan reaches my eyes again, “Then why are you leaving?”

Those stupid eyes, the stupid sad puppy eyes.

“Stan, listen, I have only told like two people this, and I didn't want to tell you because it's really not that big of a deal. But, I went to the doctor a few weeks ago about some pain I’ve been having in my stomach.” I stop again, stan now looking like the most concerned person in the world. “And well they ran some tests, and it's a pretty serious case of Liver disease, and it’s been causing too much pain, and I can't work 8 hours a day with it, ya know? But it's not that big of a problem. There are many treatments and the doctors said that when I get a donor it will only be like 3 months of recovery, and that's not bad.” I stop, “So yeah, anyway, I still want to watch that movie if you're still down.”

Stan says nothing and just stares at me for a moment. A million thoughts are within his head and I can't catch a single one. He looks like he is about to speak but instead unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car.

“Wait Stan, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but like you know before my parents so that has to count for something,” I yell, the panic rising within me. But it disappears as I watch him walk over to my door and open it, beckoning me to come out of the car.

I step out and face him, and before I know what is happening he pulls me in for a tight hug. I am momentarily shocked but hug him back. It feels like the weight of everything comes crashing down. The weight of losing everything I loved doing, everything I wanted to do, things that I’ll never get to do again. And I cry. For the first time since I found out, I cry, big, swallowing tears.

“I’m sorry Stan, I should've told you sooner.” my words are muffled as I bury my face into Stan's chest. I can feel his heart beating quickly as he squeezes tighter.

“Kyle, I'm not mad. I promise.” he rested his chin on the top of my head.

We stay like that for a while. Stan waits till I calm down to pull back.

“Of course, I still want to watch the movie with you,” he says as he uses his thumb to wipe away the last tear falling down my face.

Suddenly, even though it's the coldest day in January, I feel warm everywhere within my body.

Chapter Text

Kyle keeps his eyes on me while I hook up his DVD player, his mind seems lost in thought, and I can only imagine what is going on inside his eyes. His eyes are rimmed red, and it makes the green in his eyes shine brighter. How unlucky is it to only see them like that after he cried?

“I cannot believe you have a DVD player!” I say trying to lighten the heavy mood.

His eyes break away from his thoughts and he smiles, “I keep it in case Stan Marsh brings over some raggedy horror movie CD.” He jokes.

I chuckle as I press play and wait for the Movie starts. I make my way to the couch and sit down next to Kyle, who offers up some of the blankets, I gladly accept them.

The ride to Kyle’s apartment was mostly silent, I offered to drive so Kyle could have time to fully calm down. The silence was not unwelcome in the car, it was somber but sweet in a way. Both of us were digesting what Kyle had said. I think Kyle was digesting what is truly going on for the first time. The only real thing said in the car was Kyle asking me not to tell anyone, and then he asked if I wouldn't bring it up again. I understood.

Kyle squeezes my arm to snap me out of my thoughts, “You okay Stan, you look far away.” His hand is still lingering on my arm.

“I’m good Kyle, just thinking.” I smile and reach over to squeeze his hand.

He gives a knowing smile and removes his hand.

The movie finally starts, “Oh man I’m so excited! Devil’s Rejects is like an all-time favorite.”

Kyle laughs and turns his attention to the screen a light smile plays on his face. Which is almost immediately replaced by a disgusted stare as the opening scene plays.

“Sick Dude!” He says putting a hand over his mouth, and I chuckle. I forgot to mention that it is probably one of the most graphic slasher films of all time. Rob Zombie never disappoints.

“This is your favorite movie?!” he turns to me in shock.

“Hey! I didn't say anything about your favorite movie!”

“That's because Dead Poets Society isn't sick and twisted.” he defensively speaks.

“With that ending! You're just as sick and twisted as me!” then I add, “And I can't watch another mind-bending Art Movie!”

Kyle whines at this, “I thought you liked my movies!”

“I do! But I don't want to cry at every movie I watch.”

He shrugs, “Sad movies show real life!”

I roll my eyes, “Suuure”

Kyle playfully shoves me, “whatever!”

“Here let me put this better, you like films, and I like movies!”

“There is a difference?” Kyle sighs.

I nod and point at the screen so Kyle can actually watch it.

I turn my mind off as I relax into the murderous sound of the Devil's Rejects. My mind wanders back to the parking lot behind the coffee shop. Ever since we started to hang out Kyle and I have not shied away from physical contact. Shoves, playful punches, and even the occasional arm squeeze. The first time it was different was when we watched Dead poets, Kyle looked at me as I had tears streaming down my face at the sheer sight of Robin Williams crying and he squeezed my hand. But the hug. The hug was different, it was so sincere, it was so enticing. So much so that I couldn't help myself running my finger across Kyle’s cheek, he didn't pull away as my hand cupped his face, only leaning into it.

I think I now understand Kenny’s playful jealousy, there is something so, enthralling about him. Something I have never felt for a friend before, something that makes me want to always touch him.

Looking at him now he is sitting at the edge of the couch, arms crossed as he watches the movie. He looks so lost in it. I smirk.

“BOO!” I scream as I poke his arm, careful to avoid the stomach, I don't really know where the liver is, but I’m sure it would hurt if someone just started jabbing at it.

Kyle yelps as he fully punches my arm.

“Ow!” I rub the spot he punched.

“Dont fucking test me, Marsh”

“Damn dude that will bruise!”

Kyle rolls his eyes, “Don't be a baby!”

“I can see how you broke Cartman’s nose, those fists hold power!” I tease him.

“Trust me, that was like only 25% of how hard I can actually punch, I could beat the shit out of you!”

I laugh “Woah Woah there buddy, let's not get too crazy!”

He narrows his eyes, “Want me to prove my hypothesis with an experiment”

My mind flashes back to a few weeks ago when Kenny told me about how Kyle would beat the shit out of people in high school, “Uh no not really.”

“That's what I thought fucker.” Kyle smiles as he lays down stealing all the blankets. His feet hang off the end of the couch and his head is near me.

I flick the side of his temple and he swats my hand away, “watch the movie idiot.”

I chuckle, “Ya know, the first time we ever hung out I went to tell Kenny that you were hanging out with us, and he told me about how you used to fuck people up in high school. Dude, what made you so angry?”

“How did you even get to that topic?”

My face flushes as I remember the context of the conversion and something tells me Kyle would be angry if he found out any of what Kenny said to me.

“You're deflecting again.” I hum

Kyle grumbles, “So are you!”

“I asked first!”

With a sigh, Kyle simply says, “They were mean.”

There is a beat before I reply, “I wish I would've stayed to watch you kick ass.”

Kyle sits up and looks me in the eye, “No man, you would've changed, you wouldn't be you. And we probably would've had some huge high school fallout because of something stupid, and we wouldn't have any of this.” he thinks for a moment “I like this you. I’m glad you didn't have to stay in that hell hole.”

He lays back down this time resting his head on my lap. I am shocked into silence for a moment, Kyle wasn't normally this emotionally available. I guess crying in front of someone changes the dynamic of a friendship, not in a bad way, but I think it takes away all the embarrassment of being vulnerable.

I blink, “Thank you, Kyle.” I say as I rest my arm against his body. Kyle hums a response and tunes back into the movie.

Most of the movie passes without much conversion, and both of us are too invested. That is until the CD starts to skip, making the movie stop.

“Aw damn, stupid CD.” I am about to move when I notice Kyle hasn't moved or said anything about the movie stopping.

Damn he is definitely asleep, I looked down at his face and my guess was true, he was fast asleep. I pull out my phone, it's only like 10 pm, he must've been exhausted after the emotional madness that was the last few hours.

I pull out my phone and see a notification from Instagram saying I had one new follower. I click it and see it’s Wendy. Kyle must have finally told her we were hanging out, he had expressed being anxious to tell her. I don't really understand why, Kyle has a habit of telling me things with zero context, and I don't want to push it so I just kind of suffer through it.

I follow Wendy back and look through her Instagram and see a picture of her and kyle painting their nails together and I smile at the thought of them doing that every Wednesday. Nail day is basically the only day of the week we don't hang out right after work.

An idea shoots through my mind and opens the messages to text Wendy.

“Should we throw a very, VERY small going away party for Kyle this week?” I text her.

Wendy immediately opens the message and quickly starts to type,

“YES! We could throw it in the party room!” she replies.

“Perfect! We can start to plan it out more this week, I don't want to risk Kyle seeing these messages.”

Again her reply is almost instant, “You are still with him? Tell him I said hi!”

I muffle my laugh as I take a selfie showing a very asleep Kyle and send it to her.

“He didn't respond :('' I text.

This time even though she reads it as soon as it sends it takes just a second before a response, “God, you guys are cute… you sure there is no connection?”

Okay, now I get the context of why Kyle didn't want to tell wendy.

“I'm pretty Kyle would say “Shut the fuck up” if he was awake.” That is all I respond with.

“I'm serious! I just wanna know, Kyle won't say anything.”

“Sorry Wendy, Kyle won't say anything because there is nothing to say!”

I turn off my phone and adjust as softly as I can, but I'll be damned if I sleep sitting instead of laying down. I slowly lift up Kyle so I can lay my legs out and place his face back down on my chest. He shows no signs of waking up, damn he must've really been tired.

I fall asleep while Kyle softly snores, For sure no connection, whatsoever.

I am abruptly awakened when Kyle sits up fast, his hand jams into my stomach, I let out a grunt and look at Kyle to see what he is doing. His hand is clamped over his mouth and his eyes are screwed tight.

“Kyle you alright?” I say through sleepy tones.

He doesn't move but tears start to slip from the corners of his eyes. At that moment whatever ounce of drowsiness within my body leaves. I sit up and run his back,

“Alright it's okay, what do you need?”

It takes him a second to respond, “... bathroom” he croaks.

“Okay, come on I’ll help you get there,” I say calmly, as I lift Kyle up by putting my arm under his to give him support.

We walk slowly to the bathroom, careful not to trip on anything, but as soon as I flick the bathroom light on Kyle rushes to the toilet and starts to puke. My heart rate picks up a bit.

“Stan, Water, Please,” Kyle says through heaves. I quickly run out and grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

I place it next to him as the heaving stops and I sit down close to him, again rubbing his back. I flush the toilet and grab the towel hanging above me and gently wipe his face. He looks so pale like there is no life in him, he looks at me and then I see the light hint of yellow within his eyes, oh god this is bad. My mind flashes to what I should do.

“Kyle…”

“Stan, I don't feel right.” His face wobbled, “Something is wrong.”

The anxiety grows and with that I pick him up bridal style, rushing to the living room where I gently place him on the couch. He holds his stomach and silently cries,

“It hurts.”

“I know, we are going to the hospital,” I say as I slip my shoes on and help Kyle with his. I rush around his small studio and grab keys, and a pot so he doesn't throw up in his car. I hand the pot to Kyle as I lift him up to carry him down the steps. He almost feels lifeless as I pick him up, just dead weight in my arms.

“Okay, Okay, we are going, it's going to be okay,” I say forging a calmness.

Kyle makes sounds of agony as I place him in the car and buckle him up. His fist clenched so hard his knuckles are turning white.
I start the engine, “don't worry, we will get there fast.” he doesn't respond. I look over at him, his eyes still closed as his head leans against the headrest. I take his hand in mine and squeeze it. He opens his eyes, one of his arms still wrapped around his stomach.

I didn't even know I was crying until Kyle took his hand out of mine and wiped one of my tears again mirroring what happened just hours ago. His hand cups my face, I lean into his hand and then move to give his palm a soft kiss, and he gives me a weak smile. The moment doesn't last long as he lets out a groan, again taking my hand and squeezing it, only this time he squeezes so hard I fear my fingers might break.

“Alright, we are going,” I say and put the car in drive.

Definitely no connection.

Chapter Text

I blink rapidly as I open my eyes to blinding white lights. What the shit? Where am I? The last thing I truly remember is falling asleep on Stan. We were watching that movie, I fell asleep. Stan rubbed circles into my back after he thought I was fully asleep.

My eyes adjust fully to the room, although I can't really process what I am seeing or hearing, just a loud ringing within the room. Then very loud and fast beeping. Oh god, what time is it? I’m late for work. I have to go to work, it's my last week. I try to sit up, but I feel a hand placed gently on my chest to push me back down.

“Kyle, bud, lay back.” a voice says.

Oh my god why can't I wake up from this, why can't I recognize what's going on? My mind begins to become a thundering cascade of thoughts.

It all stops when I feel a hand cup my face, Stan. Stan is here, trying to focus my eyes to actually take in and process anything, “Stan? Where am I? Are you okay Stan?” I ask and my voice sounds unreal to my own ears.

“Kyle, everything is okay, You're in the hospital.” I blink rapidly again, this time my brain allows for images to actually show, albeit they are all very white and blinding,

“Stan, can you turn off the lights so I can see?”

“Of course Kyle,” He takes his hand away and I immediately wish it was still on my face. The lights dim, and the room only has natural light in it now. I look down at my hands and notice many wires hooked onto me, Stan looks tired and a bit pale at the sight of me.

“What happened?” My voice is still pretty sore, “What time is it?”

“You don't remember?” Stan asks sincerely,

“I remember watching a movie falling asleep and then waking up in pain.”

“You woke up, started to puke, and you were in a lot of pain, and I looked at you and your eyes were turning yellow Kyle, it was really scary.” Stan's voice breaks, subtly but I notice it.

“I’m Sorry,” I look at him, he looks so scared.

“No no no it's okay, I’m just glad I was there. Kyle, you been asleep for a minute, it's actually Wednesday,” he looks down at his phone, “It's 4:08”

The heart monitor that is hooked up to me starts to beat faster as I realize that I have slept through two of my shifts. Oh god, what is going on?

Stan sits in the chair next to me and takes my hand. He rubs the top of my knuckles. I stare at him wide-eyed, Jesus what is going on right now? I rack my brain to find the pieces of what happened before I fell asleep, we watched a movie, we fell asleep, and I woke up. I can't remember what happened after. Then suddenly the memories suddenly fall back into place. I woke up, Stan took me to the bathroom, Stan picked me up and put me in the car, Stan crying, Stan leaning into my hand as I did just hours before… Stan kissed my hand.

“Stan?”

He looks at me. I see how puffy they look, how exhausted Stan looked.

“You don't have to stay, you look tired. I don't want you to have to stay here, I’m sure it was nothing.”

Stan sighs, “Kyle I’m not leaving, they called your parents but they are out of state right now, they can't get home till the end of the week. The snow has everything shut down.” He points to the window where thick snow falls heavily.

“Oh god! They called my parents. Why? This isn't that bad I must've just eaten something bad, I can probably leave by the end of today, I feel fine!” I say breathlessly. The air seemed sucked out of my lungs.

“Kyle, you have to listen to me and not freak out,” Stan says as he gets close to my face. I nod,

“Kyle, your liver is failing, you can't leave, you'll die if you leave, you have to stay here until they can get you a donor. But it's okay! You'll be okay, we can get you a donor.”

“What?” The world stops for just a minute as I try to catch up. “But they said it was just Liver disease, they said I could wait on surgery for a while and just eat right and take my medication, they said I would be fine, they said-'' my voice rising.

“I know, I know, but it's not how it's working out right now, but it's okay I’m here, Wendy is coming in after she gets off today, we are here.”

“Does everyone know?” I ask tears threatening to spill from my eyes,

“I only told Wendy, and your parents, and all I said to Katie was that you were sick and unable to come in.”

“I’m sorry stan, I know you probably don't want to be here, don't feel like you have to stay.” now the tears are actually falling.

“I’m not angry, and I want to stay with you, Kyle. I care a lot about you.”

“Stan,” he looks like he is also about to cry, “I’m so scared Stan.” totally breaking down whatever walls were left still up. They are all down now.

Stan takes his free hand and puts his face into it, “Me too Kyle.” He says as his shoulders slightly shake.

I move to the other side of the bed to make room for Stan to join me in the small hospital bed. The sheets are slightly scratchy against my skin. He gets up from the chair that looks like it was stuck in the 80s. He gently gets into bed with me, careful not to tug on any of the wires that are connected to my arm. Stan pulls the blanket to cover us both. I squeeze up close to him and rest my head on his chest to hear his heartbeat. He wraps his arms around me. Besides all this, being here in Stan's arms is the most comfortable place I have ever been. The tears still fall from my eyes even wrapped in comfort.

There was a long silence before either of us spoke, but I broke it,

“What time do you think Wendy will be here?” I ask

Stan sighs sleepily, “Probably soon.”

“Don't fall asleep on me Marsh, She never let us hear the end of how we look like we are dating.”

“Trust me, Kyle, she is already almost positive we are.”

I look up at Stan, my head still on his chest, he looks down at me, and a light blush brings his face to life again.

“Well, there are worse things to be said.” I chuckle and Stan hums.

We couldn't break eye contact for a while, both of us were stuck in our place. Now I’m sure my face has a light blush on it as well, I am almost certain because again I can hear the heart monitor beating faster, Stan just chuckles.

He moves his hand to place it on my face, this touch becoming so familiar to us, I lean into it. Stan releases a deep sigh as he closes his eyes and leans his forehead against mine. Our noses are nearly touching. I can feel his hot breath breathing in slowly. There is like a wire pulling both of our faces together, my heart rate keeps going faster. I'm getting annoyed that it is definitely giving away all of my emotions.

I can almost feel Stan's lips brush against mine, and the machine really starts to go crazy, now sounding off alarms within the room. I put my hand against Stan's chest and feel his heart going just as crazy as mine. My eyes flash at Stan's lips, they look chapped and I can only imagine how mine look. I look back to Stan's eyes, he is locked in, and he leans closer. Time instantly stops, and I forget everything that has happened within the last months. I forget we are in the hospital, I forget Seattle, and when the time finally starts again, Stan's lips are against mine. Slow and steady, Stan ignites a fire within my body. Stan's touch against my face and waist burn me. But I can't let go. The kiss was over in a matter of seconds, but it felt like years. Our foreheads are back together as we both try to catch our breaths and slow our heart rates.

“I hate when Wendy is right,” I say lightly,

Stan chuckles, “Hey Kyle?”

“Yea Stan,”

“I can tell you haven't brushed your teeth in a day,” he says.

“Fuck you!” I laugh.

I start to feel overwhelmed with all the emotions I have had within the last 30 minutes. My laugh soon turns into a choked sob. I hug Stan closer and lay my head on his neck, he hugs back even tighter.

“I know.” He says gently.

“Kyle, I need you to know that I really care about you, and I always want you to be able to express whatever emotion you have, but Wendy is going to walk into that door any second and She might burst a blood vessel if she sees you crying in my arms.”

I laugh as tears still fall, “Oh God you are right.”

“I know, you gotta pull yourself together Broflovski.” Stan jokes. His voice sounded like some football coach talking to the losing team.

I pull myself away from Stan to start wiping my tears away. Stan hums gently as he rubs my back. I lay back on Stan's chest and let myself relax to whatever Stan is humming.

“I have never heard you hum before.”

“I leave it mostly for you,” Stan responds.

“What song are you humming?”

“Helplessly Hoping,” he states

“I don't think I know that one.” I rack my brain to see if I can put any lyrics to the tune he was humming.

Stan gasps, “You know sometimes you really disappoint me, Kyle.”

“Sing it to me. Maybe I'll know it then,” I grin

He rolls his eyes, “Now I don't know about all that.”

“Stan, I could be dying!” I fake a pout.

“You did not just say that to me, to make me feel bad for you.” he laughs, “You are sick.”

“Isn't that why I’m here?”

“No, there is a different type of Hospital for people like you.”

I gasp, “Weak dude!”

“Alright, if I sing to you right now can you promise you'll never ask me to do it again.”

I think for a moment, “Okay deal.”

Stan starts to sing the song, his voice is low and gravelly. I close my eyes as he sings what I assume to be some sort of Folk-Rock song. He finally gets to the chorus,

“They are one person,
They are too alone,
They are three together
They are for each other”

And he stops singing, and he looks a little embarrassed, “Stan, you only allow me to hear you sing once and you don't even finish the whole song?”

“You only asked me to sing it to see if you knew it and you don't, so”

I am about to continue the conversation when Wendy bursts through the hospital room door. She looks frantic, that is until she sees how Stan and I are sitting and she smiles.

“Uh-huh, no connection there whatsoever.” She lightly chuckles.

I think Stan and I both rolled our eyes at the same time, and that's when Wendy quickly pulled out her phone to take a picture of us.

“Wendy!” I say through an annoyed tone.

“Hey you never know, this picture could be important one day.” She smiles,

“Huh, Kenny said the same thing to me about a picture.” Stan thoughtfully wonders,

“What picture?” I question him.

He looks at me and fakes a cough, “Anyway, Kyle I’m going to head home for a few things, and I'll be back, want me to grab anything for you?”

I roll my eyes, “Will you bring me some comfy clothes, and maybe a book or two, I'm going to go stir crazy in here.”

Stan nods and grabs my car keys off the little table that sits in the room,

“Okay, I’ll be back soon! Goodbye!” He smiles.

“Stan,” Wendy says before he leaves, “Take a shower you look gross.”

He falters, “Gee thanks Wendy, will do.” This leaves both me and Wendy to laugh as he flips us off when he walks out the door.

It’s Wendy's turn to sit on the small bed with me. We sit shoulder to shoulder and she lays her head on my shoulder.

“How are you doing Kyle?”

“I… I don't know. I thought I would have more time.” I have to take deep breaths to make sure I don't start to cry again.

There is a beat before either of us speak.

“Wendy, can we talk about something else.”

“Of course.” she thinks for a moment, “Oh! I brought Nail polish! It's Wednesday! We have to!”

She pulls out my favorite green nail polish from her bag and rolls the bedside table so it sits in front of us. Normally I would paint my own nails, but this time Wendy does, which I'm thankful for, I feel widely weak and I honestly don't know if I would even be able to get my hand to be steady. She shakes the bottle and begins to slowly apply the nail polish.

“Soooo, I was right about Stan.” She giggles,

I sigh, “Uh no no no, I can't date a crewmember while I still work at-” I stop mid-sentence and remember that I really don't work there anymore. My last week at my favorite place was ripped from my hands. No closure there.

Wendy notices, “I’ll talk to Katie, I’m sure we can get her on our side.”

I hum. I silently thank her for not pushing it. That's what I love about Wendy. She knows when to ignore and deflect. It really helps honestly.

We sat in a good quiet. I think about whether I should tell Wendy that Stan and I just kissed. I can see her reaction perfectly in my mind, it makes me laugh.

“What's so funny?” She asks as she continues to paint the green polish on my nails.

“Wanna know a secret?” I say lightly,

She narrows her eyes, “oh god, what is it?”

Like 10 minutes before you walked in, Stan and I kissed.” I throw it out as if it’s not important.

She stops painting my nails and whips her head up at me, “WHAT?!”. I laugh. Thankful to have not woken up in a hospital room alone.

Chapter Text

Kyle is consistently in and out of it after first waking up. They started to give him a drip of some sort of pain medication because after Wendy left early tonight he started to cry because of the pain. I think he was in pain the whole time but hid it for Wendy, which in turn makes me want to cry.

Kyle fell asleep around 6 pm and woke up at 8 pm, asking where he was again. The confusion faded a lot faster than the first. He just had to adjust his mind back to the present. I can only imagine how dizzying it is for him right now. He fell back to sleep pretty quickly again after that.

I took Wendy’s advice and took a shower, and it made me realize how gross Kyle probably feels. He is a pretty big freak with personal hygiene, washes his face twice a day, he also uses a fucking water pick after brushing his teeth because he is a freak. It irked me since the one time I saw him shooting high-pressure cold water at his teeth. Freaking weirdo man.

So when I went to his apartment I also picked up his face wash and toothbrush, hoping he would feel less nasty. I did choose to leave the medieval torture device he has behind.

When I got back from the small trip Kyle was still asleep, doctors just got me up to date. They have been telling me everything that Kyle has to go through, the medication, the bed rest, the waiting, and the outcome if they don't find a donor in time. The most recent news they gave me is that he is being put on a dialysis machine, which looks like another medieval torture device, they said it would help give them more time.

Now I’m here again, sitting in an uncomfy hospital chair that has an ugly print on it at 10 pm, on a Wednesday night. Next to my manager who I re-met only a month ago, turned friend, turned friend who I have kissed. Is friend the right word? Best friend who I have kissed? Best friend who I now realize I have a huge crush on. I'm unsure of when that happened, but not surprised. I guess in my subconscious the signs were always there. The feelings have always been there since the day he got angry at the thought I had a crush on Wendy. It was really always there. I want to ask Kyle if it was the same for him, or maybe he kissed me because he was so out of it he thought I was someone else.

That conversion seems daunting, but it has to wait until Kyle gets better. Which he will, he has to, there is no way he could…he just can't… I sigh inwardly. Kyle has to get better. There is too much not done, so he has to live. Whatever higher power there is wouldn't rip him away from the world, rip him away from me, there is too much left not said, and too many dreams left open.

“Stan, what day is it?” Kyle’s weak voice wakes me up from my thoughts.

“It's still Wednesday, bud,” I answer and look at him. His eyebrows are knotted together as he looks at the dialysis machine to his left.

“They have me hooked up to a dialysis machine, this is pretty serious,” Kyle mutters.

“Of course, you know a dialysis machine by just looking at it,” I smirk.

Kyle thinks for a minute, “Did you bring comfy clothes, I want pants.”

I lift up the bag of things I brought from his place, “I also brought your toothbrush and face wash.” I replied.

His face lights up, and I give myself a pat on the back for knowing him so well in such a short amount of time.

“Thank god! I can feel the bacteria growing on my teeth.” Kyle says as he makes a disgusted face.

“Gross dude!” I laugh.

Kyle shifts to stand up, putting his legs over the bed in doing so, but as soon as he stands he winces and falls back on the bed. I jumped up from the chair.

“Jesus Kyle you can't just suddenly stand after being in bed for like two days!” I place my hands on his shoulders.

“How am I supposed to get dressed if I can't stand?”

“I can help you, idiot!”

Kyle's face goes a deep red, “Get your mind out of the gutter you freak!” I chuckle.

“Fuck you! You can't possibly know how embarrassing the thought of you pulling up my pants is.” he shrieks.

I roll my eyes, “You’ll get over it.” I say in a sing-song voice.

“Fine! But how am I supposed to brush my teeth and wash my face?” he whines,

I’m glad that Kyle is still acting like Kyle, and it makes me want to continue to tease him, if not just because I think it’s funny, but because it makes me forget the fact that he could be dying.

I hold up a water bottle and a pan that I stole from one of the nurses.

“I’m just supposed to wash my face with the water I used to brush my teeth with?” he looks disgusted again.

“Jesus Christ, Wash face first, I’ll rinse the pan out and then brush teeth! Simple problem-solving!”

Kyle looks at me for a minute, his eyes narrow thinking of another complaint, “What about showers?”

“Sponge baths, with the help of some big burly male nurse!” I joke,

“Stan!” Kyle weakly punches my arm.

“Come on Kyle, will you just let me help you here!” I plead.

Kyle rolls his eyes but nods his head. I pull out a pair of sweatpants I stole from his apartment. He doesn't look at me as I slowly slip his feet through the legs of the pants. I pull them up to where he can reach them,

“Alright, it's all you, you baby!” I say lightly.

He takes the hem of the pants and then looks at me, “Turn around!” he commands.

“Jesus Christ.” I laugh as I pinch my nose bridge and turn to face the other direction.

I wait a minute until he tells me I can turn back around. I help him with washing his face and brushing his teeth, thankfully without any complaints.

“Do you have my phone?” he asks,

“Oh yeah, it’s charging, let me grab it.” I get up and hand his phone to him.

“Oh my god, I have 68 missed calls from my mom. This is why I didn't tell them!” he sighs.

Kyle calls back his mom, and she starts the call by yelling so loud I can hear it.

“Mom, it's fine!”

“NO! We can't be there!” her sentence continues but I can't really hear what she is saying at that point.

“I don't know mom, I have been asleep!”

More yelling on the other end.

Kyle rolls his eyes, “It’s fine mom, Stan is here!” Kyle then rolls his eyes again and looks at me, “She wants to talk to you”

Before I know what is happening Kyle is shoving a phone in my hand.

“Uh hi?”

“Stan? What is going on?” Her voice is shrill,

“From what they have been telling me, Kyle has to be on a dialysis machine until a donor Liver is found.” I stumble through my words,

“What happens if we don't find a donor?”

My breath catches in my throat, “well uh, We need to find a donor.” I can't tell her that her son will probably die without a donor.

“Oh, My poor Kyle!” She says frantically, “Can I speak to him?”

Kyle looks at me and shakes his head no, of course,

“Actually Kyle is getting some blood work right now. We will keep you updated, I have to uh go!” and I quickly ended the phone call.

“I cannot believe you just made me hang up on your mother!” I complain,

Kyle laughs for a moment but then stops and looks at me with worry, “What happens if I don't get a donor?” He asks.

I stop for a minute, “Why are you asking, you will get a donor!”

“Stan, when my mom asked, your face went pale, and you looked terrified.”

I look at Kyle whose face is laced with confusion, while also having a hint of knowing in it.

“Kyle, you will get a donor, you're like top of the list!”

“You can't promise that Stan! What happens if I don't get a donor” Kyle is becoming delirious, slightly heaving in breaths that aren't going anywhere.

“Kyle…” I sigh, wanting him to drop it so I don't have to say it.

“Stan what is going to happen!” He is basically yelling.

“You’ll die!”

I could have sworn the world stopped at that moment. The room is filled with somber rage. There is a beat until I look at Kyle’s face. There is nothing, no emotion, no tears, no rage, nothing. He is just looking at his hands. I want to shake him, I want him to understand the gravity of the situation. But I don't think he does.

Kyle looks at me and sorta smiles, “I guess I should start praying again.” He tries.

“Oh god…” I croak, I feel like throwing up. I try to hold myself together, but I can't handle it. I can't handle the mix of every emotion that has been passing my body through these past two days. “Don't do that.” I cry.

Kyle looks at me with shock and worry, “I’m sorry! I was just joking.” he apologizes.

“It’s really not funny, you know.” I choke. “I don't think you understand. The thought of you dying really isn't that funny to me!” I try to take a breath but I can feel no air in my lungs. God damn it. Not now, I pat my pockets for my inhaler and find it. I turn away from Kyle and walk to the bathroom and close the door.

I need a moment before I can look at him. I take a deep inhale of my inhaler and splash my face with cold water. I count to 10 and then back down to 1, a very useful trick I learned from my therapist.

I walk out of the bathroom and see Kyle’s face laced with apologies, but before he says anything I start,

“Kyle, I don't think you know how much you mean to people. I don't think you know how much you mean to me, Wendy, or even your parents! Everyone would be devastated, truly fucking wrecked!” I say this as I start to angrily clean the small hospital room, putting misplaced items back into bags, or propping them up on the small bedside table, “You can't die! You know how much that would hurt!” When I finished, my face flushed red with anger.

I look at Kyle who is wide-eyed at me, his mouth opening and shutting,

“Oh god, I’m sorry Stan, I won't joke about it again, please don't go, I don't want to wake up confused and alone.” he stutters.

“Wait What?” I ask, then look around as to what I was doing. Fuck, he thought I was packing to leave.

“No, I'm not leaving, I’m just cleaning,” I reassure him. “I’m not going to leave!” I walk over to him, where he sits silently, looking at his lap again. I slightly tremble in his hands.

I lift his chin gently and hold his face at eye level to mine, he avoids my gaze,

“Kyle it’s okay to be scared, I would be scared too.” I let out a breath, “Shit I am scared!” he looks at me, shaken but no tears spilled from his watery eyes. He quickly blinks them away.

“No point in putting those walls back up bud, I helped you put on pants less than an hour ago.”

Kyle lightly laughs, “Okay, and I promise I won't make those again. I’m sorry. I really am.” he says regretfully.

“I know, I know you didn't mean it, it’s just the thought of losing you so soon after we found each other really makes me want to freak out.”

He nods.

“It's getting late Kyle, maybe we should try and sleep,” I say as I walk over to the small makeshift bed the hospital gave me. It’s really just a small cot with a blanket and pillow. I sit down on it and start to take off my shoes.

Looking back at Kyle he still looks shaken to his core. His knees pulled up to his chest in a way I know is uncomfortable for him.

“Stan, will you lay with me?” he asks quietly.

I look at him and give him a small smile, “Of course. But you have to promise that when you wake up dazed and confused you don't punch me or some shit.” I joke.

He relaxes a little and adjusts to make more room on the bed for me. I climb into the hospital bed, Kyle still looks tense. One day he will learn to use his words instead of engraving his own mind with anxiety, I hope.

“Come here, dude.” I open my arms.

He gratefully accepts and puts his back to my chest, I wrap my arms around his waist and put my face in the nap of his neck and place a small kiss on him.

He hums, “I’m glad you showered, you smell a lot better.”

“You wanna go there Mr. Bacteria teeth.” I joke.

Kyle finally fully relaxes in my arms as he laughs. In the back of my mind, I wish we were anywhere else. I wish that we didn't have to sit in a hospital bed and cuddle, I wish we could've stayed on his couch instead, but a part of me is grateful that this allowed us to break down whatever was holding us back before.

“Stan,”

“Hm?” My eyes are closed and I can feel sleep filling my body.

“Thank you for making sure I didn't wake up alone,” he says, as he leans back closer to me.

“You can't get rid of me now,” I say against him. Kyle closes his eyes.

We both fall into a restful sleep. I think the best way to sleep is with Kyle in my arms, and I make a note to make it happen more often.

Chapter Text

My body didn't feel like mine anymore. I feel trapped within a thing that is trying to kill me. I have always tried to be healthy, I mean I have a slew of health conditions that force me to be healthy. Like two years ago when I had these horrible headaches, they got so bad I would get blind spots in my vision. For some reason, my brain had a bunch of fluid in it, and I had to basically change everything about how to go about my day to day, no more fats, sugars, or anything that could be considered unhealthy, reducing all screen time down to like 3 hours a day, exercise every morning. It helped, and the headache went away. So I kept things that way. I thought the problem was solved, I thought I would be fine. Although doctors were quick to point out that this was a sign of something bigger happening within my body. Now I’m left to wonder if this was the bigger problem or just another warning sign.

It all feels so isolating. I know I have people who care about me, I know they love me and want to get healthy. But I fear I will never be healthy. That health is just something my body will never reach no matter how hard I work, I am never good enough to actually be healthy. What kind of life is it when you can't even eat Ice cream or put flavors in your coffee? What kind of life do I have to live where I have to cancel everything that I have been planning for years because now, suddenly I'm dying? What did I do to deserve this? I don't consider myself a bad person, sure I make mistakes, but doesn't everyone? So why am I paying for it in the form of mental and physical pain?

It’s Thursday night, and the pain is worse than ever before. A sharp stabbing pain shoots through my whole body. When I catch a glimpse of myself in Stan's phone, or if I look down at my hands I don't even recognize myself. I don't own a scale at my house, so when the doctors told me I had lost 25 pounds in one month it shocked me, I didn’t even think I had that weight to lose.

Today the doctors were concerned with how malnourished I was so I ended up getting a feeding tube shoved down my nose. I look disgusting, I look like a person who is dying. I actually look like a living corpse.

I look over to Stan who is laying in bed with me scrolling on his phone. He has his arms wrapped around me, and sometimes when he notices my eyes tightly closing in pain he will start to rub my shoulders, and even my back when it was bad earlier today.

Stan looks tired, maybe more tired than me. He puts on a brave smile, but I know that he is not doing well. I wish I could take his fears away. I wish I could tell him that whatever happens, it will be okay. I will always be here.

I reach up and slowly cup his face, my thumb slowly rubbing over his cheek. He looks at me, a small upturn of his lips and he holds my wrist in place, his fingers easily wrapping around it.

“You are so pretty,” I say.

His face tints pink, and I hope that if I die I can still see his face when I get to wherever I’m going.

“You are too Kyle.” He puts it simply.

I look away from his eyes and look at his hand wrapped around my waist, “I don't feel pretty, I feel gross.”

“I know, but you are so gorgeous.” He states removing his hand from my wrist and lifting my chin with his fingers.

These simple actions we have been repeating for hours. I think they are a form of comfort for both of us.

I let out a deep sigh. I didn't know I was holding in, “I’m so tired.”

Stan's eyes flash with anxiety but it is quickly covered, “I know you are.” He plants a small kiss on my forehead.

“I wish I could stay with you forever.” I snuggle up close to stan, I want to hear his heart beating, I want to feel his body warmth.

“You're stuck with me.” He replies carefully, squeezing me tight.

I hum and close my eyes, sleep feels heavy within my body. I am about to fall into a restless sleep when a doctor slips in. Stan and I both look up at him.

The doctor clears his throat, “Stan can I speak with you.” he asks quickly.

Stan untangles himself from my arms and walks out the door with the doctor, they leave the door cracked just a bit.

I know the talk they are about to have. I know what is coming. I just wish Stan didn't have to hear it, I wish he could stay blissful with hope.

I hear words being thrown out,

“Make him comfortable.” “Friends and family.” and the worst one, “Goodbyes”

The talk is short and Stan walks back in looking like he might faint. He slowly closes the door behind him and grabs his chest as it quickly moves up and down. Hell breaks loose when he finally musters up the strength to look at me. His face completely crumbles.

“Oh, Kyle.” He chokes out.

I open my arms to him, “I know Stant, it’s going to be okay.”

Stan walks over to me, engulfing me in a hug. He sits down on the bed, and easily pulls me on his lap. And again I am wishing I could stay in his arms forever.

“I’m sorry.” Tears finally fell from my eyes.

Stan's eyes are still wide with disbelief. “Kyle…”

We make eye contact, I try my best to lean up to reach Stan's face, and I place both my hands on either side of his face.

“Stan, I need you to know that even though we really only met like four weeks ago, you mean so much to me, and I would trade everything to stay here with you forever.” It hurts to speak, my lungs are screaming at me to stop, “I want to say goodbye to everyone, call everyone. Hell, even call cartman.” I try to laugh, but can't.

Stan leans in closer, our noses touch, “Just one more time.” I say, and Stan understands.

He leans his lips into mine. I use all my energy to focus on the warmth it brings me. Stan leads the kiss, it's slow, drawn out, and loving. Our tears mix together. Stan pulls away and starts to sob. I put my head on his chest and rub small circles onto his knuckles.

A nurse walks in, one that has been on my case the whole time. She looks somber, and I realize that everyone loses here.

“Okay Kyle, I’m going to increase the drip, it will help with the pain okay?” She presses a few buttons and then pats my shoulder and walks out.

The effects of whatever drugs they have just increased hit me almost instantly. My eyelids are feeling heavy.

“I’m scared to lose you.” Stan breaks.

“You won't lose me. It will be okay.” I say breathlessly. “Stan, will you sing me to sleep?”

“This is the only promise I will ever break for you.” he smiles sadly.

I fell asleep to Stan singing ‘Lovers Rock’ in hushed tones.

Chapter Text

I don't know what was worse, watching Kyle quickly decline through the night, or calling and telling his parents who are still unable to travel home. At around 11 pm, Kyle started having breathing problems, so doctors took out the feeding tube and favored an oxygen mask. That was the point I decided to call Kyle’s parents, just in case he didn't make it to the morning.

Mrs. Broflovski asked if she could facetime so she could see him. It was devastating, hearing Kyle’s younger brother sob, and watching his dad's eyes glaze over at the sight of him. And his mom, who was screaming. Begging him to wake up. The guilt of me being here instead of them started to consume my body whole, and I had to tune out the rest of the call. Kyle didn't really wake up, he kind of opened his eyes, smiled, and said “hi Ike.” When he saw his brother. He weakly raised his hand to wipe at the screen trying to feel them even though they weren't there. Kyle began to fall back asleep before he closed his eyes and whispered out a ‘love you’.

It was getting late after the phone call, and I decided to risk it and wait till morning to call everyone else. Kyle would be too out of it tonight, and I don't think I could handle it. I laid back down with Kyle and kept my hand on his chest so I could feel his heartbeat.

The morning wasn't much better, Kyle didn't wake up. His face was in a peaceful slumber. I brushed his hair off his forehead. I leaned my head against his,

“I’m going to call everyone, okay?” I say to Kyle who doesn't respond.

Wendy had to go first, she was Kyle’s number one. Wendy knew Kyle better than anyone, and it wouldn't surprise me if she can already feel something off within the universe right now.

I pick up Kyle’s phone and look up her contact. The phone rings only once.

“Kyle?” Wendy asks through sleep,

“No, it’s Stan,” I answer, trying to hold everything back.

“Stan? What's wrong?”

“Wendy, I think you should come to see Kyle.”

“...why” her voice increasingly grew frantic.

“The doctors say that he probably won't make it much longer.” Tears sting at my eyes, but I blink them back. I need to be strong right now. I need to be strong for Kyle.

“But, I just saw him like two days ago, how could it happen so quickly, where is the donor?” She starts crying.

“Wendy, Kyle wants you here.”

Wendy takes a deep breath, “Okay, I’ll let his non-work friends know.” She shakes.

“Thank you, I'll call everyone else.”

“I’ll be there soon,” Wendy says as she hangs up.

The only other person I call is Kenny, I decide I’ll send a text to the others.

It takes a few times for Kenny to pick up, but after the third call, he finally answers.

“Hey, Kenny.” My voice sounds tired.

“Stan, why do you have Kyle’s phone? Is he okay?”

I explained everything to him, my voice staying strong, no tears spilling from my eyes. Kenny takes a long minute to say anything, and when he does speak he just says,

“I’m coming.” and hung up.

I text everyone else, even Cartman as Kyle had requested. Just a text saying what happened and that it was time to say goodbye.

It was time to say goodbye.

I played with Kyle’s hair, which was a bit frizzy, but mostly greasy. I let out a weak laugh at the thought of Kyle ever having greasy hair. Kyle stirs in my arms, his eyes only open halfway.

“Hi, Stan.” He is still mostly asleep.

“Hi there, bedhead,” I say with a small smile.

“Is everyone coming?” he asks,

“Yes, you should sleep some more, you’ll need the rest,” I answer.

He hums a response and relaxes in my arms. I doze off until Wendy busts through the door. Only waking me, Kyle doesn't move.

She rushes over to the bed and takes Kyle’s hand in hers.

“Oh, my God.” Her eyebrows knit together and she lays her forehead on their intertwined hands.

I start to move to get up, Wendy needs to be alone with him. Before I can move Kyle tightens his grip on me,

“Don't leave.” He says quietly.

Wendy looks at me, a somber smile on her face.

“Kyle, Wendy is here and she wants to talk to you,” I whisper to him.

Kyle forces his eyes open and smiles when he sees Wendy.

“I’ll be outside,” I say as I walk to the door.

Behind me, I can hear wendy say,

“Want me to paint your nails, You’ve already chipped them.” I can hear the pain shoot through her voice.

I sit right outside the door in one of the most uncomfortable chairs ever created. I only use Kyle’s phone to update his family, and I try to ignore all the other texts. I couldn't respond to them yet. I couldn't even look at them yet.

I can't believe it, I can't believe someone would be so cruel. So cruel to place someone like Kyle on earth, who is feisty, who does the right things, who is the most beautiful person I have truly ever seen, and then rip him away. Like his life means nothing. I can't believe he is leaving.

I wish I had more time. Even just another month, so I and Kyle could actually go on a date, or watch a movie with our arms wrapped around each other, to give us time so I could sleep in his bed with him, and make us a cup of coffee when we woke up. I am suddenly so angry that none of this is happening.

How could God be so cruel? I can't wrap my head around it. Kyle doesn't deserve this, no one does. He is only 19 for fucks sake. I think back to my first day at the theater when Kyle flipped off God. And I get it now because sitting in this hospital hallway there is nothing I want more than to scream at the top of my lungs,

“FUCK YOU, GOD”

I don't know how long I’m outside the room. Time feels slow yet sped up at the same time. It leaves me in a daze. I am almost completely out of it until I see Kenny running down the hall, he slows his pace as he sees me.

“How is he, Stan?” Kenny asks as he sits down next to me.

“He is still alive.” I breathe.

Then I add, “Wendy is in there right now. I just needed to be away for a second.”

Kenny looks at me and places a hand on my shoulder.

“Do you know if people at the theater got the text?” I ask him.

Kenny gives a soft smile, “Katie closed down for the day, everyone is coming.”

There is silence between us,

“Thank you for not deleting that photo, it’s like one of three I have of me and Kyle, I think it's my favorite.” My composer breaks at the thought of me and Kyle only having three photos together actually saved in my phone.

“Come on Stan, let's go in before people get here.” Kenny pulls me up and walks me to the room.

Wendy is sitting on the chair next to Kyle, She’s crying as Kyle is asleep next to her. Kenny walks over to them, standing next to Wendy. He hugs Kyle and whispers a soft ‘hello’ Kyle opens his eyes at him and smiles when he sees it’s Kenny.

“They closed down the theater for you Kyle,” Kenny says, tears now also streaming down his face.

Kyle laughs and then coughs, making everyone in the room stiffen.

“They are so… dramatic” he barely gets out.

I am standing away from the bed, feeling awkward and unsure of what to do. Kyle looks over to me and gives a weak eye roll.

“Come here.” He demands, my feet move to the bed and I sit in the chair on the other side of him.

He again sighs, “No, next to me.”

I can't help but laugh, “I’m glad you are finally using your words.” Kenny and Wendy also give a small laugh at this.

I sit next to Kyle and wrap my arm around his shoulders. He leans his head against me and I lean my head on top of his. Kenny has small talk with him, asking him if he remembers certain things from school or different stories of house parties. This makes Kyle laugh, and I think that even now it is the sweetest thing I've ever heard.

I allow myself to block out the conversation and fall asleep. Being close to Kyle was enough for me, I want to let everyone else talk to him, he deserves to hear their words.

When I wake up it seems much later in the day. Kyle is also asleep against me. There are many people in the room, some talking to each other and some just looking on. The room is filled with flowers and a few food dishes that are placed on the small tables. Probably meant for Kyle’s family. I see the theater crew all in one circle. Craig and Tweek are standing next to each other, Craig looks genuinely upset, and Tweek, who lets a few stray tears loose. Wendy, Katie, and Butters are all having a hushed conversion, and Cartman and Kenny are standing looking at the group.

For a moment I am embarrassed to be seen snuggled up to Kyle, and then I realize that no one cares. No one cares because Kyle is dying.

“Kyle, people are here to see you,” I whisper in his ear to wake him up again.

He lifts his head up from my shoulder and Cartman sees first and starts to walk over.

He stiffly sits in the chair next to Kyle, the theater crew looks over, all looking sad but more so worried as to what Cartman is about to say. Surprisingly he doesn't say anything for a while just allows Kyle to become fully aware of what is going on.

Kyle speaks first, “I’m sorry I broke your nose, but you deserved it.” he laughs and so does Cartman.

“I’ll only forgive you if next time you let me win.” He jokes.

I’m completely taken aback by how out of character this is for Cartman.

Kyle laughs, “I can still kick your ass!” Cartman puts his hands up defensively but just shakes his head with a sad smile,

“Yes you can.” with that, he gets up and allows other people to come and talk to Kyle.

All share stories with him that they cherish, or show him photos from when they were younger. Kyle stays awake for all of them, laughs, and does his best to respond. I can tell he is tired. I grab my phone and again text Kyle’s parents with an update on how he is doing. I check the time and see it is already 4 in the afternoon.

Soon Kyle is back to sleep on my shoulder, and Wendy is the one that starts to filter them all out. The last people in the room are just Wendy, Kenny, Butters, Tweek, and Craig. Each came over to say their final goodbyes. Tweek and Craig tell me a story about how Kyle once kicked a homophobic ass for them, Butters comes over grabs Kyle’s hand, and tells a sleeping Kyle that he needs to get better soon or else the Theater will be in shambles. Wendy and Kenny walk over and each gives a kiss to Kyle, both hug me and tell me to keep them updated. I say that I will.

Then again it is just Kyle and me. I wake Kyle up, wanting to get my turn to finally talk to him. He opens his eyes and gives me a smile.

“Can I show you my favorite picture of us, Kyle?”

He nods and I pull up the picture from our first hangout, both of us asleep on the ground, noses nearly touching. The memory feels far away from where we are now.

Kyle laughs, “One of my favorite days, I’ll never forget you trying to blow up a balloon for like 45 minutes straight.”

I hum a response.

“Stan I’m tired, I think I’m going to go to sleep now.” His eyes glazed over.

“That's okay Kyle, you can rest.”

“It’s all going to be okay Stan.”

I start to cry silently, “I know.”

I pull Kyle to my chest and lay back, he falls back to sleep in a matter of seconds. There is nothing more to say. All I can do is lay here with him.

My thoughts are clouded with the memories we could have had together. The first date, a kiss that wasn't in a hospital bed, maybe even our first night together falling asleep in each other's arms. I have to learn to accept that those memories will always remain fantasies.

A part of me wants Kyle and me to rot in this bed together. Forever intertwined with each other, but I know that Kyle would hate me for it. But the thought that I get to move on and Kyle doesn't makes no sense to me.

I look out the window and see the snow still falling, the ground covered completely with blinding white snow with only a few footprints in it. The thought hits me that outside in the world right now people are coming home from work, and eating a nice hot dinner with their families. There are people out there that are not feeling this heavy grief, they do not know that the world is about to lose someone who means so much to me. I want that idea to make me angry, but it doesn't, for some reason, it just fills me with hope.

Life will forever keep moving, time will never stop even when it feels like it should. It is a constant pounding that breaks people down and builds people up. A part of me wishes time was movable, allowing you to move through memories like you are living them for the first time again. The other part knows that being stuck in the past is one of the worst ways to live.

But I think I would do anything to have more time with Kyle. With that thought I look at him, his face looks pale and skinny. I hope that he doesn't feel pain after this.

The tears are still slipping from my eyes when the door is shoved open.

“We need to get Kyle Prepped for surgery,” a doctor says with his eyes on me.

“What?”

“We have found a donor for Kyle.” The nurse says with a smile.

Chapter Text

Ugh… what the fuck? Everything in my body hurts. White hot pain. I feel like I can't move any part of my body, or maybe I actually can't. I use all my willpower to open my eyes, but I can't. They feel heavy, but I feel awake. Where the fuck am I. Where am I? I search my brain for answers but everything seems wrong like nothing is real.

Okay, start with the basics, name, Kyle Brofloski. Age, 19, I have a mom and dad and a little brother, whose name is… whose name is… god damn what the fuck is his name? My little brother is adopted, and he used to follow me to school. My little brother has black hair and his name is Ike. There! My little brother's name is Ike.

My name is Kyle, I’m 19, and I work at the South Park movie theater. With my friends, their names are… my friends. I leave for Seattle in… I leave for Seattle in a month? What day is it? Where am I? Why am I in pain?

Okay, let's restart. My name is Kyle and I work at the theater, wait no didn't I quit? I quit because I will leave for Seattle soon. No, something isn't right.

My Name is Kyle, I used to work at a movie theater where all my friends worked. The girl, the one guy with blonde hair, and the one who is also gay. The gay one is also an asshole. The girl is my best friend. We hang out on Wednesdays and do something. The blonde one, I’ve known him since elementary school. Elementary school? Someone else is there. The other one, he has blue eyes.

I’m Kyle, I have friends who I have to leave because I’m going to Seattle. Why am I going there? To teach kids. I’m going to teach kids in Seattle. No no no that's not right. What isn't right about that?

Okay, focus on something else. Why am I in pain? Was it sudden? Car Crash? No no, it was long, medications, machines, and stomach aches. Wait! I’m at the hospital. For a kidney transplant? No, I think that was before. I need a donor for… for my liver! My liver failed. That's why I had to quit the theater and leave Wendy Kenny and Craig. Yes! That's their name.

Ones missing. Blue eyes. We met in school. Blue eyes left me, and I never saw him again. Until I trained him at the theater!

Okay again, I am Kyle, I had to quit the theater and not go to Seattle because of Liver failure. I have friends… who I didn't tell. I was telling them, or maybe I was telling one. I was telling Blue Eyes. We hugged, we went to the hospital, and he kissed me. Is he my boyfriend? Maybe? He is here? Or he was here. The whole time, but what stopped it?

He was here and so was, and so was everyone. Why were they here though? Kenny and Wendy cried, they were crying because I was going to die. We were saying goodbye.

Oh, fuck am I dead?! No, why would I feel pain in the afterlife? Maybe I'm in hell, oh god am I in hell?

“Kyle… please.”

OH, that's blue eyes, he is here. Why can't I wake up? We were saying goodbye, and he showed me something. The doctor came in, and he had something important to say. Blue eyes started to cry. But it wasn't sad. He was happy. He was showing me a picture of us. The doctor came in to tell me that… he came in to tell me I had a donor! Yes, Surgery. I had surgery. I’m asleep.

“Come on, wake up.”

He is here again.

I can feel him squeeze my hand. He is holding my hand. We are dating! He was holding me when I fell asleep, and he looked so pretty.

“I’m here Kyle, just open your eyes. Please, God please.”

Then just like that I am able to move. The pain heightens, and the room is a blinding white, Jesus it is so bright. I squeeze his hand back.

“I’m awake, it’s okay!” I try to say but it comes out as a whisper.

I try to focus my eyes on something in the room. Big bold letters, ‘ICU’. I stare at it for a long time, maybe even years. Things become clear.

He is here, I look at him, he is laying his head down on my hand. He needs to know I’m okay. I try to wiggle my fingers. He shoots up, I can see his face. Oh god, he is pretty. He looks like he needs to shower, and maybe sleep.

“Kyle!” Blue eyes seemed overjoyed. I want to talk, but when I open my mouth it’s too dry for any noise.

He sees this and carefully lifts a glass of water to my mouth. It feels like heaven to my dry throat. I cough a few times, making sure I can actually use my voice.

“Blue… eyes” comes out very hoarse and wobbly.

He smiles, “Blue eyes?” he asks.

“You?” my brain is filled with cloudy confusion.

He laughs, “I’m blue eyes? I guess so.”

Jesus Christ, I am so confused, “Boyfriend? Right?” My voice is getting stronger but my memory is not.

He does not laugh this time, he looks flustered and unsure of what to say, “uhh… maybe?”

Maybe? I move my hand, which feels like 1,000 pounds, to my lips. He understands what I am trying to say.

“You were too sick, we haven't talked about it.”

I nod. “Your name?” I ask him.

He looks mildly offended, “I know you. Pictures. School. Theater. But… no name. Just Blue eyes.” I speak slowly

His face changes to a fond smile, “My name is Stan, Kyle.”

Stan. Stan Marsh.

“Stan,” I responded. “Stan, you are pretty.”

“You've said that before.” He chuckles.

“Wendy and Kenny?”

“Do you want me to call them?”

“No, just us,” I responded.

“Okay, just us.” Stan smiles back.

There is a long pause between us. As I’m left trying to collect my thoughts. Things are still foggy in my mind, but they seem to be coming together. The last month is almost crystal clear. The things that sting the most are the past few days. When I started to wake up more and more, the events of what happened, everyone saying goodbye, made me want to start to cry. I can't even imagine how much it hurt my friends. Looking at Stan, who looks like he hasn't slept in days, covers my body with guilt.

The realization of what I did to my friends does make me cry. The hot tears make me feel mildly more human than I had been feeling. Unfortunately in a very sinking way. Stan isn't looking at me, he has laid his head on the bed, his eyes on our interlocked fingers.

“I’m so sorry.” I choke out.

At this Stan shoots his head up and looks at me,

“Woah, hey hey it's okay! I promise it’s all going to bed okay.” he soothes,

The tears become stronger, the heartache takes over the pain that my body feels.

“No, I’m sorry for what you had to go through.” I correct myself.

“Kyle, I promise it is not your fault. You didn't do this.” Stan talks and waves his hand around the room.

My hands start to shake, and I can't feel the air in my lungs anymore.

“Oh my god, you guys had to say goodbye. Holy fuck, I’m so sorry.” Bile rises to my throat and I swallow it back down, trying to fake a feeling of peace in my body so I don't go into a full attack.

It doesn't work, as I continue to shake. Trying to take deep breaths, but they end up short and shallow. The world seems to be turning black as if I was truly never awake. Oh god, maybe I wasn't, maybe this is all still a dream. Holy fuck, I am in hell. My body is burning along with my mind.

“Kyle, come on, it's okay.”

I can feel Stan rub his finger over my cheekbone, but how am I to know if that is real or not.

“Kyle, I’m right here, you are okay.” His voice is strong through the storm waves that take over my mind.

“Count to ten. Come back so we can talk more.”

I can hear Stan counting from 1-10 then back down from 10-1. The waves begin to calm. The storm turned into a light rain. I open my eyes, to see Stan's face right in front of mine. God, he just looks so exhausted. I look away in guilt. But he just lifts my chin and makes me look at him.

“Whatever you are thinking is not true, none of this is your fault.” Stan places his forehead on mine.

“Will you lay with me?” I ask him.

“Of course, but we have to be careful, I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't, I don't think you ever could,” I reply honestly.

Stan moves onto the bed, and I basically lay on top of him. He plays with my hair, I lean into his touch.

“Thank you for being here when I woke up,” I whisper.

“I would never leave you to wake up alone and confused, I promised.” His tone is matter-of-fact.

There is a beat before he speaks again, “Do you remember what happened.”

I nod my head, “I wish you guys didn't have to go through that.”

“I wish you didn't have to go through that Kyle.” he stops for a moment, “I wish I could take away whatever pain you are feeling. I wish I could make it so this never happened, but I can't, so we just have to live with it ya know.” His hands traveled down to my chest where he gave me a hug. “But on the bright side, look at us now, maybe this would've never happened if all this didn't.”

I hum a response, “I bet it would've happened. I just had to be done at the theater.”

“Ahhh I see, Page 24 is more important than men.” He jokes.

“No, but I don't think my brain would have been able to process it while I still worked with you. It would make me feel like I'm abusing my power.”

“I’m definitely under your mind control.” He kisses my cheek from behind.

We both give a small laugh at this.

“Stan no offense but your breath smells… awful,” I say with a light smile.

I can't see Stan's face, but I can feel him rolling his eyes.

“I see how it is, but if you must know your hair is super greasy.” He playfully jabs back.

“Oh god, I know! I feel gross! I feel like a greasy, bacteria-ridden ball.” I say seriously.

Stan just lets out a laugh, “Hey you're still not as bad as Cartman.”

“Oh thank God!” I giggle. “That would be the end of times for sure!”

“It really would.” He kisses my other cheek this time.

I roll my head back to look at him, he has a playful smile as he looks down at me.

“You basically just called me a grease ball, but yet you still kiss me. Seems like you're into it.” I joke.

His face breaks into a big laugh, and I think his face fits a smile better than anyone else's.

Stan starts to place kisses everywhere on my face, my forehead, my cheekbone, and the tip of my nose. I can feel myself blush.

“Maybe I am!” He argues.

“That sucks for you because as soon as I’m able to shower, I am scrubbing away the grim!”

“Do you want me to help you brush your teeth?” He asks, still smiling.

“Yeah, but you gotta brush your first, and I don't wanna move yet.”

He hums a response as he rubs small circles onto my chest. I hold onto his forearms as he does so.

I think for a moment, “Want to go on a date with me after I get out of here?” I ask.

His hands stop rubbing my chest and he gasps loudly, “Ugh! I wanted to ask first.” he pouts.

I laugh, “Okay forget I said anything, you ask.”

Stan takes in a deep breath, “Kyle, will you go on a date with me?” He says in a fake deep voice.

“If you talk like that during our date I will be running out as soon as I can!” We laugh together.

We stay intertwined, “Thank you for making me feel better Stan.”

“I always want to make you feel better.” He says honestly.

“I hope I can do the same to you.” I squeeze his forearm.

“Just you waking up and calling me blue eyes for a solid 20 minutes will always make me smile.” I groan at his words.

He laughs and pulls me closer.

Chapter Text

I was pretty quick to get an infection after the surgery. The doctors said it was normal since I got my transplant so late in the game. Thankfully, just a minor chest infection that doesn't cause me too much pain. Unfortunately, it just means I have to stay for two weeks instead of one.

My parents arrived on Sunday, much to their relief that I was still alive. My mom was all over me, first yelling that I didn't tell her sooner, then crying about how I almost died. I wanted to roll my eyes, but I knew how much stress I caused them. Just looking at Ike's face when he first saw me made me want to curl in a ball with guilt. It makes me wonder if I feel guilty because I didn't tell them, or the fact that I didn't die.

They were prepared, they all were. I know it sounds awful, but they all mourned, they all said goodbye, and then I lived. The rational part of my brain tells me that they are relieved that I am alive. But the darkness that has been clouding my mind tells me how now they all have to wait on me. That part tells me it would've been easier not to wake up.

How selfish of me.

I convinced my parents to spend time at home, to get rest, and that I would be okay if I were left alone. They agreed that I needed some rest, and only visited during the permitted hours. But I was really never alone. Stan never left, it’s like he knows that something is going on.

Maybe, in my own selfish way, I am mad that I have to live with the aftermath. The fact that I don't have my own place anymore. I paid Wendy to pack up my small apartment because my lease is up, and I can't do it. She said she would do it for free, but I wouldn't give her a key unless she took the money.

In fact, I can't do anything for like three months, and I hate having people do shit for me. It makes me feel so small. It makes me feel like nothing. So maybe in my mind, I wish I didn't wake up either.

Stan is quietly combing through my hair, which I thankfully got to wash yesterday, and is playing music on his phone. We have both been pretty quiet since I woke up, it's now Wednesday. Wendy had asked to paint my nails, but I said I wasn't feeling well enough. Which was only a half lie.

“What are you thinking about Stan?” I break the silence.

He thinks for a moment, “You.” he continues to lightly play with my curls.

“Stop it, I think you're manifesting some shit into my brain.” I joke.

He hums, “Sorry I can't.”

I fall silent again, allowing myself to get lost in Stan's soft touch. Urging all the thoughts to leave my mind.

“What are you thinking about?” he shoots back to me.

The thought of telling Stan my thoughts sounds like hell. I wouldn't be able to look him in the face saying I would rather be dead than in this new hell. The one where I can’t do anything, the new life where I will have to get surgery probably every 12 years to get a new liver because they don't last.

“Not much.” I lied.

“I totally believe that.”

“It’s really not important, I promise.”

“Uh-huh, is that why you canceled on Wendy?”

“I wasn't feeling well,” I say.

“In what way?” His eyes narrow at me.

“In many,” I admit.

There is now silence as Stan tries to think of a way to ask more questions.

“I would love to pick your brain apart right now.” He says honestly.

I laugh, “I'm sure Doctors have tools for that.”

Stan doesn't laugh, instead, he gets this look on his face. I rest my head on his shoulder.

“I feel bad,” I say.

“In what way?” he asks.

“In many ways I guess,” I respond, still unwilling to fully admit to him.

“Tell me one way.” He pushes, “Maybe I can help.” he adds.

“You have done enough, and plus I already know what you're going to say.” I look at him.

“Kyle, I'm here to help, and I don't mind.”

“You haven't left the hospital in days, I’m still unsure how you have a job at the theater.” I throw back at him.

Stan’s eyes look tired. Jesus, I feel like I am sucking the life out of him.

“I can give you alone time, you just have to ask.” His words are short.

I roll my eyes, “that's not what I meant.” The lack of sleep in both of us drives us to be irritated way faster than usual.

We both shut up. The conversion seems to end there. Stan removes his hands from me and lays them on his lap. The action seems like maybe he does want to leave. I don't blame him. Truly I cannot imagine the hell he has been going through just being here.

“I’m not saying you can't leave, and I’m not saying I want you to leave, but it seems like maybe you want to get some alone time, and I'm saying I would understand.” I lift my head up from his shoulder. Both of us sitting awkwardly on the bed, only barely touching.

“Kyle, You shouldn't just assume what I’m feeling. You're just projecting your own thoughts onto me.”

I can't think of a response. I know he’s right, which makes me want to scratch my own skin off. I can feel my eyes burn with tears but I blink them away angrily.

There is a small beat before he speaks again, “Okay, listen, I’m going to go grab a coffee. And I’ll let you work through this.” His hands point at me as he says this, “And then maybe we can talk when I come back, or we can just spew in silence again. It is your choice.” He takes a deep breath and gets up from the bed and swiftly moves to the door.

I picked up my phone, I haven't been looking at it because the only thing I have been getting is “Get well soon”. I think about what to do, I could sit in silence with Stan, but that seems like a really bad idea, even now in this stupid-ass funk I’m in I can see that.

I can tell him, but again that seems like a bad idea, it seems ungrateful to tell the person who basically saved your life you wished he didn't. I’m not suicidal by any means, but I just feel… unreal? Like everything is fake, I’m fake, I'm alive but I don't feel like it.

I check my messages and see one from Kenny. He is asking him how I’m doing. I want to say ‘Great! Thanks for asking!” like I have been saying to everyone else, but he would see right through it. I decided to call him.

He picks up right away.

“Hi, Kyle!” He chirps.

“Hi Ken, what are you up to?”

“Ah not much. Just watching a movie with Butters!” I can hear the phone shift, “Hi Kyle!” Butters says happily.

I let out a laugh, “Hi Butters! What are you guys watching?”

“Some stupid Rom-Com Butters turned on!” Kenny says Sarcastically.

“Sounds fun!” Kenny and Butters have such a weird friendship, it is really two people you don't think would fit together but they complement each other.

“What are you up to Kyle? Everything alright?” Kenny asks.

“Oh yeah, I’m all good. I'm just sitting here, wishing I wasn't.” I joke, but the tears spill.

Kenny doesn't seem to notice the slight crack in my voice, which I’m thankful for. I don't want to dump everything on him, I just wanted to hear someone talk to me like I am real.

“I get it, man, well hey! Once you get out of jail We can hang out!” His voice stays light.

“Yes, please! I’m going a little crazy in here!” I fake the same light tone.

“Well let me know if you want me to come up there and raise some hell, it could be fun!” He jokes.

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind!”

“Okay okay I gotta go, the movie is getting to the big fight part and those are my favorites”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon!” I laugh.

“Bye!” Kenny and Butters say together and with that, the call ends.

Jesus Christ, I am such a mess. Why am I falling apart, shouldn't I be happy? I think I am happy, but I’m also so sick of staring at the same wall for 12 hours a day. I'm sick of the pity and the doctors, and the flowers and the balloons.

Stan walks back in with two cups, one is coffee for him, and the other is Ice Chips, which have been the only thing I've been eating. He notices me as I try and wipe the tears away from my face.

He sits in the chair next to mine, and hands me the ice chips, “No point in walls!” He says, “I’ve brushed your teeth!” mirroring the conversion we’ve once had before.

I shove an ice chip in my mouth as I try and think of all the words I want to say but seem unachievable.

“Okay you said that you already know how I would respond, so tell me how I would respond to what you're thinking.” His voice is calm.

“God I can tell you've gone to therapy.” I joke.

“Not always a bad thing.” he smiles.

“You're right.” I think for a moment. “You'd say ‘No we don't blame you, Kyle! It’s normal to feel like that after a near-death experience!” I mock his voice.

He nods, “It does sound like me.” he looks at me, “What do you feel like?”

I pause for a moment, “Like I’m not real. Like I've lost so much like it's harder to be awake than to be asleep.” I cut straight to the point, “And I'm scared because I don't know what you'd say to that. I feel so selfish, I should be happy that I'm alive, but… it’s like I’m no longer me. You know?”

I look at Stan who is looking at me, deep in thought trying to find the right thing to say.

I start again, “And I feel so fucking guilty about what I did to everyone.”

“Kyle you didn't do anything.” He says softly.

“Jesus I did, I made you guys say goodbye. Everyone was ready for me to… well everyone was prepared.” I correct myself.

Stan takes my hand, and I'm grateful for the human contact grounding me.

“Kyle, have I ever told you about how I ended up going crazy and how I got sent to boarding school?” he asks,

“You've told me the basics.”

“Do you mind if I tell you?” He looks at me,

“No, go ahead.”

“When I turned 10 I got really depressed, I felt like I didn't fit in anywhere. My dad just randomly moved us from our family home to this huge weed farm. My parents were fighting every day, about money, about moving, about me. They made me feel like I was burdening them with how I felt.” Stan takes a long breath, “So I started to steal some of my dad's booze, he didn't seem to mind, he thought it would ‘mellow’ me out. I felt so alone, and I felt like I wasn't living in my body anymore, I was living outside of everything. In a way I was. It all came to a huge climax when one day I decided I wanted to burn down the farm and I was going to watch it burn from the inside.”

My body feels like ice at the thought of that, “Stan…”

“It’s okay Kyle, it was a long time ago. Thankfully my sister found me and stopped it all from happening. It basically forced me to tell my parents everything I was going through, and it actually helped to just get it all out.” His eyes are locked on mine. His face is strong and unmoving. It’s moments like these that I realize that Stan is not the huge softie I had thought he was.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

He shakes his head, “The point I’m trying to make is that I don't want you to get to that point. I don't want you to be seen in a burning building when truly there are so many people who would do anything for you.”

“That's part of the problem, people shouldn't drop everything to help me, I should be able to do this on my own,” I said to him,

“That's only a problem for you, Kyle, we don’t mind. That is what loved ones are for because it shouldn't be a matter of if you can do it alone, it's that you shouldn't have to go through it alone. I know that you feel like you've lost a lot, and you have. But look, your only 19, and you just basically got a second chance of living so you still have time to do more things.” he pauses, “And trust me when I say that no one was ready for you to die, even though we said goodbye, it was a lot easier to say hello again.” he adds.

The ice chips slowly melt in my cup as I throw another in my mouth.

“And I wanna add that I like being here with you, it makes me feel special that I’m the person you are not shoving out the door. So, yes you can feel bad, but don't let it eat you alive, and if it is, maybe you should go to therapy.”

“You are special, I've let you brush my teeth,” I say lightly.

“And I feel honored and like I want to rub it in Wendy's face.”

I hum a response and the room falls quiet again as Stan takes a huge sip of what I know is disgusting Hospital coffee.

“Thank You Stan.” he looks at me, “Thank you for not being mad or making me feel guilty even though I'm being selfish.”

“Kyle, you aren't being selfish, you are being human with human emotions. Which I know you try to avoid because you like being above it all, but unfortunately you are not.”

“Want to know the most disappointing thing about waking up?” I ask,

“Hmm?”

“The fact that your name is Stan.” I laugh, “I think I was intentionally blocking it out.”

He gasps in a false sense of anger, “Would you rather my name be ‘blue eyes.’” We laugh together.

“Stanley Marsh is just kind of a crazy name man.”

“Alright there Kyle, your name is basically a meme at this point.”

“It’s okay I forgive you for your bad name.” I joke.

“Ahh thank you, kind sir.” He laughs.

He leans his forehead to mine in the oh-so-familiar position that allows us to forget the world for just a moment. We may have sat like that for hours or minutes, I don't really know. I’m just happy to have him here with me.

Chapter Text

Kyle has fully healed. At least physically, and mentally, well, I think he is still stuck in the hospital. I mean it's been months and I can count on my hand the number of times Kyle has left his parent's house. At first, I thought I understood it, he just needed to be away, but then month two rolled around, and month three, and now he barely even responds to my texts, he never wants to hang out, he canceled his Wednesdays with Wendy and almost cut contact completely from everyone else.

It was fine until he didn't leave his room for his friend's birthdays, or for a party that the theater threw for me when I moved to management. He didn't even say congrats. It makes me think that Kyle did die on the hospital bed, and for replacement, we got this awful other version, a version from a parallel universe, someone from a completely different story.

It hurt at first, like really bad. I was there for Kyle the whole time he was in the hospital, and he couldn't even get out of his bed to come to a party for me. Then the hurt turned to rage, and I started to treat him with the same apathy. He would text and I wouldn't respond, and then he stopped texting completely, and I thought “Good", and that's how it's been for about a week, zero communication, nothing. Then last night, I realized that he won, he made me cut him off, which is exactly what he fucking wanted.

So after work today, I'm going to his house, and I am going to talk to him, and on everything that is holy, I will work things out. We didn't go through everything we did for our story to fucking end like that.

I am just not sure how we went from him asking me to stay with him, to Kyle practically forcing me out of his room when he first got out of the hospital. I have had many talks with my therapist about him because if I didn't vent it out I’m sure it would be a lot worse. Joe, my therapist said that I need to put myself in his shoes, to think how I would feel. But that doesn't work because unlike him, I was happy to have a second chance at life.

“Any plans tonight Stan?” Wendy snaps her fingers in front of my face.

My eyes focus back to reality, “Going to Kyle’s so I can force him to talk to me.” I say.

“Oh, Good luck, he has been pretty impossible to get through.” She replies.

I look at her, “How can he treat us like this, how can he just throw everything out like that? Has he been like this before?” I wonder aloud. Because truly, I don't really know Kyle like that. We had like one good month of communication, and then everything happened.

Wendy looks at me sadly, “I mean he has retreated before, never this bad. I just think he is going through a lot, Stan.”

“Clearly!” the word comes out bitterly.

“Stan don't be like that, if you go to him hostile he will completely shut off.”

“Wendy, just because he is depressed, it doesn't give him the right to be an asshole to the people that love him!”

She nods, “Well, just text me and tell me how it goes.”

I grab my keys and start to make my way out of the theater, “Oh, I'm sure there will be a lot to report on.” I give Wendy a small wave before heading out into the parking lot.

The one good outcome of this was how close Wendy and I became, specialty now that I had replaced Kyle’s shifts at the theater. We bonded over the shared trauma the this whole thing has caused us.

I twist the key to my truck and as soon as my truck starts the radio starts to play that stupid TV Girl song. Kyle's favorite. I turn it off immediately, and as I make the short drive to Kyle’s parent's house I think about how maybe Gay people liking TV Girl is still a red flag. By the time I pull into the driveway, I have decided that is in fact still a red flag.

At the door I'm greeted by Kyle’s mom, who looks excited to see someone actually talking to Kyle, “He is just upstairs in his room!” Her shrill voice makes my irritation spike just a bit more. I try to calm down a bit while walking up the stairs because Wendy is right, hostility is not the way to go about this.

I knock on Kyle’s door and get no response, so I just open his door. His room is basically empty, almost all of his belongings are still in boxes scattered around the small bedroom. His room isn't messy, it's just, cold, almost unnatural, like walking into a museum. I walk over to his bed, where I think I can make out a human body, curled into many layers of blankets. I go to shake it, but notice that it is in fact not Kyle, just pillows and blankets balled up.

I give a second look around the room as if I could have missed him somewhere else in the small space, but surprisingly Kyle isn't in his room at all. But his phone and wallet are both sitting on his bedside table. I pick up his phone and notice that his screen saver is a picture of us, it's the picture of us. And for a second, just a small moment, the rage is again replaced with hurt.

I pry my eyes away from his phone and notice his open window. I make my way over and look out. And then for the first time in about three weeks, I saw him. He is sitting on the ledge of the roof, knees pulled into his chest, and his body is slightly shaking.

“Kyle?” I grab his attention.

He doesn't jump, he doesn't even look at me, “Hey Stan.” His voice was dull and almost lifeless.

“What the fuck are you doing? It's cold, you're shaking.” There is still a sharp edge in my voice.

This time he turns his head to me, his face is hollow, and his eyes are red and puffy. “I’m not shaking from the cold.”

His bluntness is starting to make my skin crawl, “Get inside, I want to talk.”

Kyle doesn't move for a second, he takes a deep inhale and tucks his hair behind his ear, before he finally gets up and makes his way to the window.

If I wasn't so fucking angry at him I would probably throw my arms around him, I would probably hug him for minutes, and I would probably give him one of those urgent kisses that you give when you see someone you really missed. But something tells me that he isn't thinking the same thing. His eyes look unfocused, and his eyebrows are twisted together in a face that makes him look like he is one of those paintings showcasing pain.

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” I seeth. Kyle shrugs his shoulders and sits stiffly on the edge of his bed.

“Like seriously? How could you do this shit to, how could you do this to Wendy?” I pace around his room as I talk.

“I don't know.”

“Oh don't give me that shit man, you do know! You are just being an asshole. A complete dick.” My voice rises

“I Know.” His voice just gets quieter.

“You couldn't even say that you were happy for me for moving up so quickly at the theater, you couldn't even text me back. I mean, not to be that person, but after everything we went through, I would think everything would be different. I thought you would still care!” The wall of whatever was holding me together is broken, and now I’m just shouting.

Kyle doesn't look at me, his head down looking at his lap, “I am happy for you Stan.”

“But you couldn't even send me a text? No call? No, actually you did nothing. You've been doing nothing. Why can't you just text me “Good for you” or anything?”

His body is again shaking, “Because it hurts Stan!” He finally looks me in the eye.

“I Know! I get it! It fucking sucks! I know, everyone has been telling me how much it sucks for you! But I can't understand that because it shouldn't suck because you got a second chance! You get to life-”

“Stan” Kyle cuts me off.

“No! You don't get to do that, I'm not done. I want to talk! I want you to know how much you hurt me! Because fuck it hurt when one day you just decided you were done trying! It's not fair-”

“Stan please.” Kyle cries.

“Kyle! You just ignored everything that happened, I mean I thought things were going to be different, you know? I thought maybe we could actually go on a date, have a relationship, or at the fucking least we could talk!” I am practically screaming. The rage is flowing out of my pores and I cannot stop it. If Wendy was here she would just roll her eyes.

I take a deep breath, “Or maybe you could have used your words like an actual human, and tell me that you weren't interested, because somehow that would hurt a lot less than whatever you are doing now!” My voice is cold.

“You don't understand.” He says in a whisper tears falling from his face.

“You're right I don't! I don't get how you can do that. I don't get how you can turn your back on someone who was there for you when you needed them most. I just don't fucking get how you could do that. It just seems like something too evil for you to do.”

“I Lost everything, Stan!” His face contorts into anger, matching mine.

“No, you FUCKING didn't! You didn't lose me!” I scream again, and yet no tears fall from my eyes.

There is a long pause. A break that seems to shift the whole world.

Kyle breaks it, “I'm going to lose you.” he sobs.

I roll my eyes, “Yeah, you are if you keep acting like this, like fuck Kyle you haven't even unpacked your boxes.” I point out.

“There is no need to.” He states simply, “I’m in the burning building Stan.” He looks at me, and his face pleads with me, even if his voice doesn't.

“What the fuck do you mean,” I ask, my voice back down to its normal pitch.

“I got accepted” His voice does this gasping cry-laugh, “I mean I got accepted a while ago, but after everything happened I thought I wasn't going to be able to go, and then I lived and I can go, but there are stakes now, and maybe I never wanted to leave in the first place, or maybe I don't want to leave you.” Kyle's voice is weak and hurt.
“Accepted where Kyle?” The confusion is evident in my voice.

“The University of Washington, on full scholarship.” he sounds unhappy.

“Holy shit, I don't fucking understand, that's great fucking news, Kyle. Why are you shutting everyone out because of that?”

“By car, it's a 21-hour drive. From here to Seattle.” he begins, “I mean there is even a time difference. I thought originally that would be great, it would get me the fuck out of here, I could leave and only feel a little sad saying goodbye to Wendy. But then you came along, and fuck I don't know, now it just hurts a lot more to leave everything behind. After everything we’ve been through, how could I do that to you?” He throws my words back into my face.

Damn.

“Oh,” I say. More things clicking into place. “Oh.” My body stills for a minute and I sit next to Kyle on the bed. “Why didn't you just tell me?” I ask more level-headed.

“It hurts too much, I am burning alive Stan. I fucking burning man! And you have done so much for me, I can't put you through more. I didn't intend to ignore everyone, it just felt easier.” He shutters.

“And I know, I know it's not an excuse, but every day begins the same, and I lose track of when I sleep and wake up on a new day and when I wake up on the same day. And then I stopped checking my phone because it made me angry to see how fast time was passing, so I turned it off. I turned everything off.” He stops, takes a deep breath, “and I am really sorry I didn't handle this better. I am so fucking sorry Stan, there is nothing I can say that can take back the past few months, and the time I wasted makes me even more angry at myself, because how could I waste time like that? How could I do that.” he rambles.

“And you want to know what makes me even more angry? The fact that I think I would be better if I just died. It was more final that way, ya know? But that isn't fair to anyone, but you want to know what else isn't fair? The fact that I am still leaving, even after everything that everyone did for me, I am still fucking leaving them all behind.”

I look at him, his words sting me, just as mine probably did to him moments before. And I am left with nothing to say, after hours of thinking of different outcomes to this conversation, I don't think I could've been prepared for this. Then my heart stops, and I think back to months ago when we sat in the hospital bed together and I said, ‘I don't want to see you in a burning building’. I should've seen this coming, but I didn't. I couldn't.

“You're not in the burning building yet,” I say, finally taking his hand in mine.

“I've been in the burning building ever since I woke up.” He says. He doesn't really hold my hand back, but he doesn't remove it.

“Well let someone help you out,” I say, almost pleading with him.

“Somehow that hurts more. Ya know? Burning others with your fire?” His body crumples into a sob. “I’m sorry Stan. I didn't mean for this all to happen.”

“I wish you would've just told me, Kyle.”

“Me too. I wish I were strong enough to tell you.”

“Please let me help you, Kyle.”

“I don't know how.”

Chapter Text

“Can I stay with you?” Stan hugs me, he grasps my arms as if I am slipping under. It's not until I hear myself say, “Please” that I realize that I have slipped under into a suffocating depth.

I try and think of more words, but my brain is bogged down with the weight of Stan. My thoughts race to him. What I've done to him. I stay quiet and think about what would have happened to Stan if I never left the hospital. In many ways, I don't think I did.

“I’m scared I changed.” My voice pauses but my words don't change, “Im scared that I changed, and Im scared that If you were to have seen me, or talk to me, you would notice it.”

“Change isn't always bad.” Stan's voice cracks but he doesn't. His arms stay looped around me. The warmth fills my system, it's so unfamiliar I start to overheat.

“I’m sorry I did this to you, Stan.”

He looks up at me, and shakes his head, “Just let me stay with you.”

My heart sinks, and I think of the time I wasted, the time I threw away, and the time we will never get back. The guilt starts to take over again, it's heavier this time, as I face the fact that I wasn't sad I lived, but I was guilty because I did still die.

“Please,” I start to say but the words get choked up with a sob.

“Kyle, what do you need?”

“I need you to forgive me for never leaving the hospital. I need you to forgive me for living, I need you to forgive me for dying.”

The water fills up my lungs as I struggle to breathe against Stan's chest. He slowly rubs my back.

“I don't feel like me anymore.” my voice mangles

Stan lifts my face with his finger under my chin, the world seems to spin around me as I look into his eyes for what again feels like the first time.

“No matter what version of you, Kyle, I always want to be a part of your life, I always want to get to know the new you. I just want to be with you.” He says.

For Stan, it seems to be easy. He knows how to string together thoughts, he knows what side of the debate wins within his mind.

I search his eyes for the cheat code, but I'm only left with more riddles. How do I speak of my biggest fears? How do I word it in a way that won't hurt him more than I already have?

“I hurt you, and I don't know how to fix it.” That is all I can mutter out through the tears streaming down my face.

“You can't, but everything heals.” He slips his hand on my face, and one of his fingers lingers over my cheekbone. He wipes away a tear that had slowly made its descent down my face.
“How do you do it?”

“How do I do what Kyle?”

“How do you make things better?”

Stan softly smiles at me, his face in this moment will be burned into my brain for as long as I can think, and again my mind is clouded with him. With Stan.

“I talk. I tell someone I love that I love them, I go outside, and find one person who I can make smile. I listen to my favorite song. I look at the sky, I make the clouds into shapes, and I count the stars.” He looks far away as if he is seeing stars right now. He plants a small kiss on the freckles on my face and counts them.

“You make it sound easy.” I smile as he continues to count.

He stops the small kisses and looks me in my eyes for half a moment before leaning his forehead against mine.

“It’s not. But for me, I would rather do the hard task of getting out of being miserable than staying miserable.”

I lean closer to him and make a small humming noise. Stan is looking at me through his eyelashes.

“Today I made it my goal to talk to you. Even if I knew it was hard, I knew I needed to talk to you. Kyle, you came into my life and it felt like everything clicked. It made me feel complete in a lot of ways. In the hospital when I thought I was,” He stops and takes a long breath before he starts again, “When I thought I was going to lose you, I thought I would never have that completeness again. When you stopped responding to me, I felt that again. But I don't want this to be left open. I need you. Even if you don't-'' he stops again, tears caught in his eyelashes, the almost sparkle in the light, “if you can't have romantic love for me, I still want you to be with me, even just as friends. I can do that if that's what you need.”

My chest heaves at the thought of losing Stan in that way. Losing stan’s small kisses, losing his hand against mine. My brain starts to malfunction at the thought of pouring myself into Stan, of giving those same things back to him, the thought of coming out of this hole. My heart rips at the thought that I know that I can never be what Stan needs, but Stan is everything I need. How do I keep him, how do I stay with him, even though the thought of losing him will hurt more if I make him stay?

“Kyle.”

I remove my face from his and pull my knees to my chest, I wrap into myself. The earth seems to crumble beneath itself. And I seem to fall to the hard core.

“Kyle” Stan pleads my name again but it is far away, just like everything else.

I feel the weight shift on the bed, and my mind goes blank. Why do I keep messing this up, why do I keep hurting him? I am far too afraid to look and see if he is gone.
“I’m not leaving” His voice seems closer, so close I'm still left unsure if he is really here or if I made him up in my mind.

I feel his hand go underneath my legs, as he puts the other on my back. Before I can look up he is lifting me.

“I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.” I keep repeating apologies, for so long that the words don't sound correct anymore.

“Kyle, look at me.” The world seems to move back into itself, “Kyle please.”

I lift my head to see that Stan has laid me on top of him, in an image mirroring the hospital bed. My face feels hot, and my eyes burn at the small amount of light peeking into my room.

“Kyle, whatever you are thinking is not true, I promise.” I hate how fast he can read everything within me.

“How can I be enough for you?” The words rip at the seams.

“You already are.” He puts it calmly.

“How?”

“You just are.”

“I need you, I want you. I want to be in arms at all hours of the day. But I feel like all I do is hurt you,”

Stan stops for just a moment, he looks calmly at me,

“Everyone says love hurts. But to me it's worth it.” he again stops, he thinks, “I now know what you're doing wasn't on purpose, but if we are going to work we have to talk.”

I wipe a palm over my eye, “I just want to do what you do for me. I always thought, I don't know that I was above romance, but you came in. You changed my mind. All my thoughts relate to you. And it scares me because if what we have grows larger it's going to hurt more if it ends.”

Stan smiles calmly at me, “We don't have to worry about that. Right now, in this moment if we want to date, then we should, without worry about what happens later. We aren't there yet, no point in fearing something that might not even happen.”

How does he do that? How does he think through things? How does he keep his emotions in check? Only 30 minutes ago he was storming into my room. Now he is holding me close.

“I think you are too good for me Stan.”

Stan holds my chin, “I’m not.”
I grab Stan’s face his face leaning against my hand. I didn't realize till now how much my body missed Stans. How my hand fits perfectly on his cheek, how his lips are soft and loving.

“I missed you,” I say to him before leaning my head against his chest.

Stan starts to softly play with my hair, his fingers twisting the small curls.

“You have no idea how much I missed you. Every day I would wake up and think about you, and I would be angry. I was angry at you, I was angry at myself for allowing you to shut me out. I was just so angry. Then I saw you and I almost hugged you. I almost just gave up everything and kissed you. I wanted to.” Stan explains his face is taking on a lighter tone, he doesn't look as tired anymore.

“I still want you to.”

Stan pulled his face in. His lips grazed mine, almost scared. It took a few seconds before we actually got back into a type of rhythm. We stayed like this, lips connected together. Our noses smashed together.

It wasn't until we both needed air that we pull apart. Our foreheads leaned against one another. Stan breaths heavily, the hot air tickles my face. It feels like a part of me is the old me again. Like a small spread of light. Stans consumes my body until I feel genuinely happy for the first time in months.

“I think I need you more than I actually know.” Confusion laced my voice.

“The feeling is mutual,” Stan says with a grin.

“Can we start working together again?”

“Of course Kyle. There is nothing I want more.”

“What are we going to do when I leave for Seattle.” My mind starts to race, the different outcomes all seem hurtful.

“We aren't there yet, let's just figure out what we are going to do tomorrow.” Stan rubs my cheekbone before he leans down and starts to kiss my freckles again.

“I love you, Kyle. Like it's kind of crazy.”

There is an explosion within myself. My heart seems to stutter and my brain can't comprehend the way those words made my body restart.

“I Really love you too, Stan.”

Chapter Text

“Woah woah! Hey, I am still fragile!” I frantically wave my arms to catch my balance. “Who thought a roller rink was a good place for a first date?”, Stan rolls his eyes as I say this.
“It was your idea, you remember bragging about how you trained with roller derby girls.”

When I said training, I meant one of my friends did it, and sometimes I watched, but Stan does not need to know that. Kenny would be jealous that I stole his date idea. He had told me ‘The best place for a first date is skating, intimate and not much talking!’ I should have not believed him. Even worse is that Wendy encouraged me. She told me it was ‘so cute’. “Yeah well, it’s been like a year so..”

Stan rolls his eyes again but takes my hand to pull me out of the doorway. I have been delaying the actual skating part by distracting him with flashy arcade games. It worked for like two hours, but then the DJ just had to play Lady GaGa. To which Stan explained that every queer person should skate when she gets played… I have never heard that one before. But of course, Stan won by simply pointing out we were at a roller rink and should skate.

So here I am, gaining my balance as I heavily lean on Stan. The song is nearly over by the time we are skating, and it is too late to turn back now.

I always thought roller skating was easier. I mean how hard could it be? Apparently pretty hard for someone who is 6’0 feet tall and awkward. I feel stupid as the skates clack loudly on the floor. I hear Stan laugh over the music.

“Shut up, I don't want to hear it.” I laugh. Stan's face is perfectly lit by blue and red lights, it makes all of this worth it. “You are so pretty.”

“I couldn't get you to talk to me for months, now I can't get you to shut up about how pretty I am.” Stan lightly jabs.

“Well you told me to speak my mind, so I am.”

Stan laughs, “Whatever dude.”

He lets go of me to do a fancy spin.

“Show off!” I yell as Stan starts to speed skate in between skaters. He was about halfway around the track when he made eye contact with me and spun to skate the rest of the way backward. I
flipped him off, which earned a few looks from moms around me.

He finally makes it back around to me. Only when I look back he is still going full speed, in a second he catches me in his arms and comes to a stop.

“Woah there spiderman.” I laugh,

“I was being romantic, don't bring up Spiderman, you freak.”

I don't think my body realized how much I missed stan. Every time he touches me it burns, but I guess not in a bad way. The past few weeks since stan snapped me out of my fog have been full of hugs, and maybe even hand-holding… I know really crazy stuff. But even those small things make me feel whole. Stan just adds what I have been missing. We spent a lot of time talking, and I mean like a lot of time. We had to make up for everything we missed.

I also just needed time before we made it official. My brain needed to catch up on what day it was, and Stan needed time. He needed time to heal. I don't think people understand what caregivers go through. In many ways Stan was mine. I couldn't do it by myself.

Stan is holding my hand as he guides us around the rink. I don't feel scared anymore. Stan has that effect on people, he is just this calm force. It makes you feel safe. I don't know anyone better. He is the kind of person you feel proud to be around.

That safety net was ripped away as my toe stop got caught under my foot, causing me to fall face-first on the wood floor.

“Aw, damn!” I lift myself off the floor, Stan is perched in front of me, his eyes flash with worry.

“Are you ok-”

“I’m fine, I promise!” I wave him off.

“You were supposed to hold on to me so I can catch you!” Stan whines mockingly

“I don't want to take you down with me,” I say playfully, but Stan's face is anything but.

“Let’s go get some sweets.” Stan gives me his arm, “And hold on, you idiot.”

I can't help myself but laugh. I am happy to be here today. Stan looks happy too.

“Do you want a churro or ice cream?” Stan asks as we slowly make our way to a concession stand.

“Can I get a Diet Coke?”

“Just a diet coke?” Stan asks, his face genuinely upset.

“As much as I would love a churro, I don't want my sugar to spike, That wouldn't be fun.”

Stan gets a playful look on his face, “Look at you, taking care of yourself’ he pinches my cheeks lightly “I’m so proud.”

I rake his hands off my face, ‘Oh absolutely not.” I laugh.

Stan puffs out his chest, “Oh okay I see how it is,” he mocks “You can call me pretty, but when I show affection it’s mister bad guy.” He spins and walks away.

“You got a lot of one-liners today huh” I quip, Stan just turns around and flips me off with a smile on his face.

Pretty soon after Stan came to talk to me, he signed me up for therapy. We’ve only had a few sessions. But I mostly talk about stan. It’s like he is the only thing on my mind, I thought it was unhealthy! But my therapist said it was normal, he says I'm ‘overthinking’. Which I guess, when am I normal thinking?

When I asked Dr. Cathay, he just started to write something in his notebook. Next week I'll be diagnosed with anxiety! I can't even tell a joke!

But in all truth, it is helping. I feel a lot less, I don't know, crazy? I feel like maybe it’s normal to feel crazy. Because everyone feels crazy. Which is nice to think about. Other people have felt as insane as me and they are still functioning. So maybe it’s not impossible for me.

My thoughts are cut short by the sound of Stan cracking open my can of Coke.

“Extra cold!” His eyebrows move up and down, making his face all twisted.

I laugh at him, “ I hope you're having fun!” I take a sip.

Stan watches me closely, “Oh yeah! I mean what more fun than spending 45 dollars on arcade games!” He smiles, and in some way, he is being sincere.

“Whatever.” Stan smiles wide, his eyes crinkle, and one day he is going to have the most smile lines on his eyes. “Wanna go back to your place, read our books, and smoke?”

“Oh god yes, please! All I have been thinking about is the book I bought!” Stan quickly stands up and reaches for my hand.

“Which one did you get again?” Barnes and Noble was a blur of chaos in my mind.

“Once upon a time in Hollywood!” He exclaimed excitedly.

“Wait, isn't that a movie?”

Stan looks at me deadpanned “It’s also a book!”
I raise my hands in defense and give him a mock apology. To which he turns around and places his hand on my cheek. His forehead is on mine. The parking lot we stand in is oddly intimate. It is quiet and lonely.

Stan's eyes find mine and a smile creeps up to them, “Hey there closeface” I joke.

Stan pulls himself away from me, “Never ever, and I mean this, bring up Moral Orel when I am about to kiss you ever again.” He laughs.

I look at his smile, and I realize that this is my happiness.

Chapter Text

“Well I have just been thinking about it, I haven't made up my mind.” Kyle shifts uncomfortably under my eyes.

“Well stop thinking about it.” My voice is light, but the meaning behind my words is firm. Kyle likes to overthink to the point where he will sacrifice what he wants to make someone else happy. People pleasers are the hardest to break. I mean, he is the only person I know who thinks about how other people to the point of making himself cry. The other day he texted me, he was freaking out because he was thinking about changing his major, but he didn't want to disappoint his professors, who he hasn't even met yet!

“Can we at least talk about it later?” Kyle doesn't sound defensive. Maybe just a little hurt. Kyle’s eyes shine enough for him to blink away our eye contact.

“Of course,” Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, he relaxes, “but first let's watch your movie.”

“Dude, I'm so excited this is like one of my favorites.” Kyle happily chirps. Our conversion happily turns to the movie, both of us putting Kyle’s idea on the back burner, and I wouldn't mind if that's where it stays.

“Kyle, you have said that for like the last three movies.”

“Yeah well, I’ve just been showing the top four movies on my letterboxd. So this is the last time you'll hear that.” Kyle pauses for a moment, “Well, forever until like, any A24 movie comes out.” He corrects.

I would never say this to Kyle, but I don't think he will ever find a job better suited than the movie theater. I mean this kid is made for it. Last week he made me download Letterboxd on my phone, then begged me to follow him. Come to find, he is writing essays for each movie that has ever crossed his eyes. I mean, like books worth of movie reviews. He loves to show everyone his ‘passion’.

The movie begins to play, and of course, A24 is one of the first opening credits. I just roll my eyes. Kyle has been talking about his latest movie obsession, ‘Everything Everywhere All at Once’, for the past few weeks. I finally caved and said I would watch it. Even though every review I read talked about how sad it is.

And yes of course every single movie is fucking beautiful! I’ll never forget hearing the soundtrack of La La Land for the first time. Every single movie he has picked has changed me, with its storytelling. But sometimes I wonder how Kyle doesn't get burnt out after only watching masterpieces. How can he be in love with some art student project film, and also love Marvel movies in the same breath? How does he compare greatness, and mediocre?

“Mitski sings a song for this movie!” This is another of his favorite pastimes, hurling at least 45 facts about the movie before the opening scene. I truly think he does it because he worked at the theater for so long. I mean, I catch myself telling customers weird facts that I only know from Kyle. And they love it! It gets them every single time.

“She has a great song!’ He smiles. Kyle runs a fine line between being excited about movies and being a snob. But he's not telling you because he doesn't think you know, he is telling you because he wants to talk about it. I wish I was a psychology major so I could break down Kyle’s communication patterns into something that I understand.

“Can I be honest?” I ask, Kyle lazily looks up at me from where he sits.

“I have no idea what Mitski sings.” A smile grows on my lips. Kyle has stopped looking at me and is rubbing his temples.

“Oh my god, You are so dramatic. Just because I don't know one person, it’s like the end of the world.” I flick his forehead.

“No, the thing is you do know her! You play with her all the time in the car!” Kyle jabs my stomach.

“Ow! Hey!... wait I do?” Kyle reaches over me and grabs my phone, immediately opening Spotify.

He shoves the phone back in my face, “You have like half of her album on here.”

I look at the playlist and sure enough, it’s Mitski, “Oh.” Kyle looks at me for a moment, his face unimpressed, then he starts to giggle. His eyes crinkle slightly, honestly, I could just stare at him all day, and draw every single one of his facial features. That would be the happy ending.

I think that everyone has a feature, that is just, the show stopper. For Kyle, it’s his voice. He would be perfect for a radio host. I mean it’s perfect! It’s smooth, and clear, his tone, and he can sing! Don’t even get me started on him speaking Hebrew. I never thought it was a love language until now. Wait, is it weird to say that?

“You should speak Hebrew more,” I say,

“God you sound like my mother.” he rolls his eyes, a smile light on his lips, “Anyway, why do you think it’s hot?” He turns playful.

His eyes widen, at my nonanswer “You think biblical Hebrew is hot?!” He nearly rolls off the couch with laughter.

“I never said it was hot! That’s weird, I just like how you sound. So I wouldn't say it's Hebrew, it’s more, just you.” Kyle smiles, “It’s been HebYOU the whole time,” I say through a laugh.

“Ew, never say that again.” With that Kyle lays back down, and tunes into the movie.

I lightly trace my thumb across the side of Kyle’s cheek. Sometimes, I worry about him, I feel like I have to protect him, and not from other people but mostly from himself. Wait, okay so like right now, it’s 2 months until he moves across the country, but that isn't enough right? So he is an after-school teacher, and some nights he babysits for extra cash, then he also works on internship applications. And by now you are thinking, okay that's enough, he is at full strength he can't add any more. Now suddenly he wants to change everything, it’s not enough now. He wants to give up the opportunity to get out of here because he doesn't want to leave me. For me to be happy?

I mean, how am I supposed to deal with that?

Chapter Text

“What do you mean? It’s honestly not that big of a deal Kenny!” My voice forging a false sense of cool.

Kenny looked at me for a moment before speaking, his face unreadable and uncomfortable “What would Kyle say?” He pauses and looks down at his hands, words are whispered under his breath but I don't hear them

“What are we? A Packaged deal? Kyle and I have lives outside of each other! I don't always have to have his approval.” My arguments seem to be for nothing by the look on Kenny's face.

“Nope! Not from me!” Kenny crosses his arms, but then relaxes, “You know dude, like that-”

I stop him, I don't want to hear any of the backhanded advice he could give me, “No you're right, I probably shouldn't.”

Kenny does not look impressed, his face searching mine. Before anything else could be said my front door swung open, and Kyle stood at the other side. Kyle says his hellos as he walks over to where Kenny and I stand. Kenny suddenly pulls his eyes down and shakes his head. Kyle, not seeing anything wrong with Kenny, engulfs him in a large hug.

When Kenny doesn't give his usual bear hug back Kyle pulls him away but holds on to his shoulders. “My God Kenny! You look so happy.” Kyle pops his lips dramatically. His hand absently waved in the direction of Kenny's stale look.

“You know I am not happy unless you're around.” Kenny smiles at Kyle, his lips almost pulling to his eyes. But before his eyes catch Kyles, they catch mine. Reluctantly, he looks almost pleading for a split second. I break under his uncomfortable stare.

Kyle doesn't catch on. He has been in rare form recently, when he laughs it seems genuine. He keeps talking about how things make sense. Last week he kept thanking me for all my help. It's funny how situations switch. Unfortunately for Kenny, Kyle tends to look at the world in rose-colored glasses when his medications work for once.

His red hair reflects the sun into my eyes as he passes over to me, and plants a small kiss, and a quick hug. He stays by my side, I can feel his hands quietly slip into mine. I can feel the small calluses forming on his fingertips. I've been trying to teach him how to play guitar, but of course, he can already play. Honestly better than me.

I can't even be mad at his amazing skills in everything he does. It's like he does so many things, that he just picks up skills everywhere. What is even more interesting, Kyle has no idea how talented he is. At first, I thought he was downplaying his self-talk to make me feel better, but he believes that he is truly bad at guitar.

After I told him he was amazing, he just blushed and looked down. In a voice so quiet and sweet I thought I might be daydreaming it, "Thank you for sparking a new hobby." As he said this, his eyes looked so serious. He squeezed my hand, “I have a lot to thank you for Stan.” His lips almost quivered, and his face was set in a Mona Lisa smile.

“Stan was telling me that I should learn more Pink Floyd songs!” Kyle chirps my name from his lips and pulls me back to his side.

“Which is why you need an electric! And I know the perfect store!” I flick the side of his head slightly, in one movement Kyle rolls his eyes and flashes a smile in my direction.

Kyle has been playing on this old guitar that he had from his childhood. He told me he learned to play in 4th grade, he wanted to impress some girl. When I asked what song he learned he got super embarrassed, "I wrote my own." I remember the way he buried his head in his hands and groaned. What I would pay to hear that song.

“Kenny, are you coming with us?” Kyle sounds polite, but I can tell that he is at least vaguely annoyed that Kenny is intruding on our weekly date.

“Abostly not, I cannot be around you two queers for that long!” Kenny starts to pick his stuff up, “Have so much fun though!” and with that Kenny is walking out of my front door.

Kenny shares one last glance with me before he fully leaves. We now have our own language that Kyle will never be privy to. The fear strikes me, Kenny and I now share a secret.

“Sorry, Kenny and I were just talking about the theater, he dropped off the movie poster I won!” I say to Kyle to get the conversation far away from what Kenny and I talked about. If he doesn't I don't have to lie.

Kyle’s eyes light up, “Which one did you win?” he looks around my living room to try and spot the poster.

In Kyle’s house, there is a closet full of different movie posters from the theater. A lot of the movies Kyle hated, but he still signed up for the raffle of the poster anyway. He has a strange obsession with collecting things, like he collects CDs, but always uses Netflix.

I walk over to the couch and pick up the poster that is rolled up, held together by one single rubber band that is slowly being stretched. “We got it for flashback films-” As I say this Kyle’s face lights up. Kyle has the poster in his hands within seconds.

“Back To The Future?!” It looks like Kyle may jump up and down in joy at the sight of the 1980s poster remake.

“You have to frame this, it would look so cool in your room dude!” His eyes are still traveling the image.

“Kyle, I don't even like Back to The Future, I got this for you dumbass!”

“I'm just gonna gloss over the first bit.” Kyle's voice starts to fill the entire room, “That is so nice of you! Stan!! I could like cry!” He is genuine when he says this, his eyes close in on me and wash me with fondness.

“You know I love you and would do anything for you. But a movie poster? That's all it takes?” I laugh as Kyle punches my arm.

“Well, it does make it better that you gave it to me, I wouldn't be kissing Kenny for this poster.” He stands in front of me, his smile is so wide that it hurts me to look. It looked like the early summer sun had already kissed his rosy cheeks.

“Does that mean I get a kiss?” I pull him in by the waist. His hands are already making skin-to-skin contact underneath my shirt.

“I mean, it doesn't sound like you want one.” Kyle is smiling, carefully biting his lip.

“Whatever.” I wrap my fingers behind his head and our lips are touching. His hands take up the side of my face as his lips slowly part. I take the invitation, my hands are halfway up his shirt when he laughs.

“Not even gonna take me out first?” he jabs, resting his head on my shoulder.

“I'm just getting excitement up for later.” I roll my eyes, but I don't mind playing along with him.

“There isn't going to be a later if we don't make it to the car first.” He is shockingly playful today, his mood seems to be a large shift from just a few weeks ago. He is just so much more alive. Not surprisingly though, it is a huge help that the sun is out, and you can go outside without getting frostbite.

“Alright come on then!” I usher him to my beat-up truck. For an early college gift, I’m buying Kyle’s first electric guitar. Based on his music taste my guess is he goes for a Telecaster or a Pink Strat. I can just see him playing a Pink Strat with cuffed jeans.

Kyle has always had a way of being different yet in such a predictable way. You always expect him to do something just mildly unexpected. This idea has been drawing closer to my brain as I watch Kyle pack to leave. Notes from family members saying “We always knew the city called you.” confirm my suspicions of Kyle being predictable. It's okay, I truly find his own cluelessness endearing.

The June sun was hot on my skin, although Kyle didn't seem to notice. His curls move frantically from his open window. His lips are quietly singing along to ‘Linger’, and his eyes are closed. I wish I could keep him like this. My mind drifts away to capturing lighting bugs into jars as I make the left turn into South Park's one and only guitar shop.

“Is this the place?” Kyle’s voice cuts through the radio. He seems a little uncertain to leave the truck.

“Yep, we have arrived at South Park's Guitar World.” I flick my eyes to the poorly lit storefront. The open sign made a small buzzing noise that I could hear as soon as I opened the truck door. The brutalist cubed-shaped building didn't help Kyle's worries.

“Trust me, it's the inside that counts!” I joke, Kyle doesn't look totally assured but follows me anyway.

Just like I said, the inside was a large building filled top to bottom with different guitars. The main room looks rainbow with hundreds of different colors of guitars. The best part is that they are used, making everything much better for a movie theater budget.

Wendy always talks about how Kyle worked 60 hours a week at the theater. Every single time I try to wrap my head around how he was even a person during that time, I also think about how much the paychecks were worth it. I can barely make it through the 40-hour weeks. Usually, by my 5th day in a week, I feel like half the person I was early that week.

“Holy Shit! Stan, this place is so cool!” Kyle’s eyes scan the walls, his mouth agape as he does so. He walks over to one of the walls, his fingers carefully tracing the body of the first guitar he sees.

“Want to take a few for a spin?” I smirk when he just nods and leads the way to a guitar.

His first pick was a sparkly Seafoam Fender Strat. The green looked good against the red in Kyle’s hair. His fingers whispered over the fretboard, in a mock trial of the guitar itself. I can feel how much the other people in the room are affecting Kyle.

“Come on, you're not going to break it! You gotta actually test it out.” I smile but Kyle just looks at me, suspicion in his eyes.

“Stan, I am not good enough to play in front of people.” His eyes are still on the guitar.

“It's like You, me, and like one worker, come one I promise they won't care.” I plead a little, a part of me wants Kyle to show off his skills.

I don't know if It’s his main character syndrome or if he is just riddled with Anxiety, but Kyle likes to think that everyone is always thinking about him. I can't tell if it’s a selfish line of thought or a selfless one. But I guess that's Kyle.

This time Kyle does play, plugs into the amp and everything. Of course, freestyling riffs better than anyone I have ever met. He mindlessly bends the strings to create a moving jazz line. I see the worker look up from his phone, a newfound vague interest in his eyes. Kyle doesn't seem to notice the small audience that is being watched as his fingers glide up the E string. While Kyle works on his new melody, I pull down the blood orange telecaster, matching one he has saved on his Pinterest.

When Kyle finally comes back down to earth after playing, his eyes light up at the sight. Pulling the orange guitar from my hands he sits down and starts to play whatever song he can think of at that moment. Strangely enough, he starts with the Beatles, he quietly hums as he plays "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" At one point he is quietly singing.

I could see it on his face that it was of course the one. I felt proud of myself for knowing him so well. Kyle thanks me for helping him pick one out, I feel pride come over me in how much I can make him smile. Then, without warning the thought rings in my mind, I don't think Kyle would be able to pick a guitar out for me.

Chapter Text

I think something has changed within me. I feel much happier than I have ever been before, like one day I woke up and it was bright. The sun was coming in through my blinds, and my window was open. It was the first time I liked the brisk morning air.

How the world changes when you learn to listen. Listen to the birds, or the rain when it starts to come down in droves. The world is walking poetry, and I don't know how I didn't see it before. Did it have to be as easy as changing your perspective? Whatever.

I am happy, and I think that's what counts. I think early summer is my favorite season, it's like the perfect temp, and the snow is finally gone. Maybe I'm happy because the grass is green again.

Although Stan told me I don't need to rationalize why I’m happy, I can just be happy. But I think that if I can find that missing ingredient I can capture it, and stay happy forever. It should always be that easy.

I told Stan that I think I owe a lot of my happiness to him, I mean he helped me through so much. I have no idea where I would be without him. I hope that if Stan ever needs me in the way that I needed him, he tells me.

My phone rings through my room, pulling me away from the words I was writing in my journal. Kenny’s picture lights up my phone screen.

“Hey, Kenny!” I answer the call,

“Hey, Ky! How are you doing?” Kenny sounds, how do I put it? Quiet?

“I’m doing pretty well Ken! How are you? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m all good man! I was calling because I have the day off and I haven't seen you in weeks!” Although there is more energy in his voice, Kenny doesn't have that same punch.

Admittedly it might be because I haven't seen him in so long. I feel like I have been spending a lot of time with Stan because I feel like I wasted so many months. But that is true about all my friends I guess.

“Yeah of course! What were you thinking?”

Kenny and I have always had this really strong friendship though. I feel like we have periods where we don't talk, but when we hang out again it feels like no time has passed. Although there is this nagging feeling that everyone around me is changing. Those same greetings don't feel the same anymore.

Now when Kenny sees me for the first time after a few weeks, he'll stare at me for a long time. Without fail the first words out of his mouth are, ‘How're you feeling?” It is a small reminder to him and me that time is moving, and time is limited. After…the hospital, people around me have been tormented by time. Don't get me wrong the loss of time messed me up too. It felt all so out of control.

That same morning the sun hit me just right, and the birdsong sounded extra happy I realized something. The point of time is to be limited. But it doesn't have to feel like time is running out if you start to fill it with things you love. If you had unlimited time how would you know to stop?

“Wanna figure it out when we get together?” Kenny asks, bringing me back to the conversation.

“That sounds amazing! I’ll pick you up in 30?”

“I’ll be ready.” With that, Kenny hangs up the phone.

I opt to play a podcast while getting ready. My mind was stuck on Kenny’s dry tone. He is usually so excitable when talking. I always felt like I understood Kenny even when others couldn't. I mean he sounded so tired, I hope the theater isn't talking too much out of him. I will yell at Katie if she says anything mean to him.

Before my mind can go further my phone again lights up, but this time a text from Stan.

“Hey! Work called me in today, So I might be slow at responding :)”

I quickly type back, “No worries! Have a good day! Talk to you later <3”

It is so sweet when Stan lets me know when he won't be responsive, it helps a lot with the overthinking.

Opening my phone again I sent out another text, “Thanks for telling me, I appreciate it!!”

Happy with my small show of gratitude, and hopeful Stan feels appreciated. Gratitude is not something that comes easy for me, I mean I am very grateful all the time. Yet, I have no idea how to show it in a way that matters.

When I talked about this with my therapist we decided to set a goal. Every single time someone does something that makes me happy I tell them. I enjoyed learning that for most people it is the thought that counts when it comes to that stuff.

15 minutes later I am in the car. Picking a good playlist for a ride is a must. My mood depends a lot on the music I chose for that day. Thankfully because of the warm weather, my music taste usually takes a turn towards the 1980s.

Tears for Fears was just made to be listened to with the windows down, I don't make the rules. The forecast being sunny just makes it better. Nature makes South Park come to life. The grass becomes a technicolor of greens.

The Weeping Willows are my favorite though. You won't find many within the little town, but there is one big one, right by Stark's Pond. The branches hang so lazily in the wind, that if you sit at the trunk of the tree you are completely engulfed by the umbrella of shade.

The drive to Kenny’s house was short and filled with ‘Head Over Heels’ at full blast. Kenny’s house hasn't changed much, I honk my horn as I stare at the same junk that has been covering the lawn for years.

Kenny swings open the front door, his hair longer than the last time I saw him. The ends of his hair are a loose wave from the length. He still looks like the same old Kenny, even if he doesn't sound like it.

“Hey dude” he opens the passenger door and in a fluid motion he is sitting comfortably with a thump.

“Hey Ken, how are you doing man?” our eyes meet.

“I’m doing good.” Kenny’s eyes twist in clear disagreement with his words.

Kenny isn't one to keep quiet about what is on his mind. If he is having a bad day he doesn't shy away from spilling what's eating him away. I always found that so impressive, he always seems so confident in his emotions.

My hand goes to turn down the music in the car, I don't look away from him. Our eyes were in some sort of battle I was not informed I was fighting.

“Dude, you sure? You know you can tell me anything!” I flick the side of his head, backing down, asking for a peaceful surrender.

Kenny seems to catch on, “I know I know! I just-” he stops himself, words seem to be rearranging in his brain, “My parents.” He lets out a sigh.

Kenny’s parents are notorious for being shitty. You can always rely on them to let Kenny down in some way. That's not surprising, what is surprising is that it is affecting Kenny this much. In middle school, Kenny took an oath to himself to never allow his parents to get to him again.

Coming after a serious fight, Kenny told me that he had come to learn that if you go in expecting to get hurt, the pain is less. Which seemed idiotic to me, but it seemed to work for him. The rants about his parents become less.

“Oh god, I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it all?” Kenny softens as I say this.

“No, but I do need a distraction. I was thinking maybe the theater? Flash-Back is playing Scott Pilgrim.” Kenny goes into a sing-song voice to tell me about the movie. He knows I love Scott Pilgrim.

“I could literally never say no to that.” I put my car in reverse and booked it out of Kenny's place. Laughing with Kenny when my tires fling rocks behind them.

Kenny makes a little ‘oh’ and reaches for his pocket, pulling out two joints. “To get the full effect y’know?”

I laugh when I catch him wiggling his eyebrows in the corner of my eye, “God you really do read my mind, Ken.”

“Dude! That's literally what I'm here for.” With that Kenny lights the first joint, I chose to wait until the car wasn't moving to smoke. I have a deep fear that if I ever drive after I smoke I will get pulled over and locked up for life.

By the time I park, Kenny is halfway through the joint, but he is passing it over to me in a matter of seconds. I take a long hit, letting the smoke intake into my lungs. I hold it there for a second, the burning tells me when to release it. I take another long drag before handing it back to Kenny, some Beatles song is filling up the empty air.

A few songs start and end before I realize that we have smoked both of the joints. My body feels like a weighted blanket as I turn my head to Kenny.

“Stan is going to be so jealous when he sees us.” I can't help but giggle.

Something weird goes over Kenny, but before my mind can decode it, it's gone. “Oh, I didn't see him on the schedule today.” He smiles.

I nod, “yeah, they called him in. But, Sucks to suck!” I throw my arms up behind my head and lean fully back in my seat.

Kenny laughs at me, his eyes crinkling from his smile, “Okay well we should go in or we will be late.” Kenny begins to climb out of my car, and I follow him.

I usually let Kenny lead the way on these trips, I don't like talking when I'm high. Every time I speak my words sound so loud in my head that I completely tune out whatever else is being said. Kenny holds the door open for me when we reach the front, I become mildly shocked at how empty it is in there.

The front only has Butters and Criag, I see someone pass through the back but I can't make out who it was. Butter gives us a wide smile when he sees it’s us. Craig looks mildly annoyed because someone walked in.

My brain reactivates when I remember that Stan is supposed to be working, I take a glance around but the same empty theater is looking back at me. Butters is somehow already handing Kenny our tickets before I even realize anyone is talking. I hate being high in public.

I grab my cup from Craig and walk to the slushy machine. The theater has two slushy machines, but only one is turned on today. Katie says it helps save money on extra slow days. Which I don't think can be possible, I mean it can't be using that much energy.

A guttural thought carries me away from Kenny, I move back to where Butters is standing at the front counter.

“Hey Butters, was Stan called in today?” I ask, trying to pay extra attention to what Butters says.

Butters looks at me like I'm crazy, he even gives a small chuckle, “Well that would be stupid! We are slower than molasses today.”

I give Butters a small chuckle, “Oh I must've gotten the day wrong.”

A pit forms at the bottom of my stomach as I walk back to where Kenny waits for me. Kenny is next to me, talking about some new show he is watching as we walk to our theater. I give me polite responses, and he is too high to notice a shift.

When we get to our seats I send Stan a text, “How’s the theater going? Is it busy, thinking about coming and getting popcorn?” I turn my phone on silent, trying to relax as the movie starts.

My mind doesn't stop racing, I can't think of any reason as to why Stan would lie. Why would he be hiding something from me? Maybe he switched shifts with someone. Relief floods over me, he definitely switched shifts with someone and Butters probably didn't know. Katie is so shitty about telling people when the crew gets changed.

I fully sink into the seat and sip on my slushy. I sat in that comfort for half of the movie before I ran to the bathroom to pee. My mouth was so dry that I finished my Slurpee within 20 minutes of the movie starting.

After I wash my hands I decide to check my phone. There is only one notification on the screen, a text from Stan.

“Dude it’s so busy, I would stay far away or Katie might have you work behind the counter!”

I walk back into the lobby, my heart rate picking up as I look into the empty theater.

Chapter Text

I have been told that I am always on the defensive. My parents and I would fight for hours, and my dad never failed to say “You're so dramatic Kyle!” Another one of his favorites is “This is just like you! To blow everything out of proportion.” All while my Mother just looked at me, her mouth formed a thin line across her face. Disappointment oozing from her pores.

We haven't had a big fight in a while, not much to fight about after I moved out. Even after everything, I somehow managed to end up back here. Back in middle school when Kenny made that oath, I made one too. I wanted so badly for it to come true.

“Move far away from South Park and cut off all contact with the people who are inside.”

I didn't want to see the disappointment from Kenny too, so instead I wrote it down on a piece of paper. And stuck it in my phone case. I have kept it there with every new phone I get. No one has ever read it, and I forgot about it.

It would've stayed that way. Forgotten, just a little edgy thought from a pre-teen. Besides things change, people change, and sometimes even parents change. Whatever bugged me in my childhood left me as soon as I had my own apartment.

I guess I'm still learning things can keep changing. Yesterday, after I traveled back into the bathroom stall, each step was dizzying then the next. Stress isn't good for my body, and if I create my own stress I create my own sickness. So I go back into the stall, nearly falling backward onto the seat.

Before I can see the irony, I count to ten in my head, the same trick Stan taught me. My fingers nervously pick at the first thing they can feel. Which just so happened to be my phone case. In seconds the whole case was off, and that same forgotten note fell onto my lap.

My fingers couldn't help but trace over the fading blue ink. To add to the dramatics there are even a few tears smeared on there too. When I first wrote that note I didn't have anyone. I always said I was a friend to everyone, but never remembered on the invite list. Things have changed since then, I didn't have Wendy back then… I didn't have Stan.

When I was sitting in that stall, debating if I should go back into the movie with Kenny. Or if I should act crazy and track down Stan. Instead, I choose neither, and for some reason, the only thing I could think about was stupid fucking smiths song.

“Now I know how Joan of Arc felt.”

Joan of Arc was a middle school hyper fixation of mine. I mean my Rabbi wasn't talking about Saints all that often, but there was something so fascinating to me about her. Jeanne, her real name, was punished by the church. I mean, she was very famously charged with disobeying the church. Yet 20 years after her death she becomes a saint.

I read Catherine Gage’s ‘The Second Coming of Joan of Arc' one too many times in high school. I stumbled upon it by accident, I had to find a performance of a monologue to present to some high school class I can't remember.

But I didn't share that one with the class. Even though it was by far one of the most life-changing pieces of media I have ever found. I needed it to be mine and mine alone. Her story felt personal, and if I showed the class that performance I would be showing a piece of me.

Maybe I didn't feel like Joan of Arc, but I felt like Jeanne. I felt like in a very strange way we would have a lot to talk about. In that bathroom stall, I made another promise to myself. Once again rolling back into the same lonely middle schooler I once was.

I just sat there in that stall for what felt like years, until Kenny finally texted asking where I was. I had missed the end of the movie, I just gave Kenny some lame excuse about greening out, which he received without complaint.

Last night I didn't wait for a goodnight text to fall asleep. I would've waited all night. I didn't let my mind wander either though. I felt too tired to put up a fight with myself. So when the next morning came around and Stan texted me his usual Good Morning, acting like yesterday didn't happen, I did too. I want to believe that I made the right choice, I swallowed pride, and I saved face.

I found myself lazily replying to Stan, not in any way that seems important. I want to show I'm upset without actually saying anything, I'll just let it simmer. That's what they always say you should definitely do right?

Being melancholy does help when I want to create things. A few nights ago, I was looking at my guitar, and I thought that maybe I should write songs, and maybe I should sing some songs. Poetry isn't hard when you overthink, it's like overcomplicating every feeling until it's something that turns into something new. Adding music makes poetry a song, and music is basically math.

Today when I told Stan that I had written a song overnight, he told me he had to hear it. So now he is coming over in 20 minutes. He said that he also wanted to make up for not being able to text much yesterday. I assured him not to worry, we can't help how busy the theater gets. I mean if anyone understands that it's me. Let's not forget I spent 3 years there.

I lay in my bed as I waited for stan, listening to the thundering rain outside. No weather stations were correct about the forecast, and now South Park is under a flash flooding advisory. The rain is pouring down outside, and a part of me wants to go to my roof and let the rain swallow me whole. But I can't, instead, I imagine what it would be like to be rain at this moment.

I make my way out of my bed, grabbing my new guitar. I've been calling my new electric guitar Crush. Stan knew exactly which one I wanted. He knew from one look around the store. If he didn't care about me he wouldn't have been able to pick out that bright orange guitar. Right?

That's at least what I have been telling myself. Maybe he is planning a surprise party. Yesterday when Kenny realized that Stan wasn't at the theater he also got nervous. The car ride back was pretty quiet. That's because Kenny can't keep a secret, and Kenny wouldn’t hide something from me, at least not anything like that.

My fingers play chords by memory, simple scales. I like to hear the descending scales, the way they fall into each other. I'm halfway down D major when Stan walks into my room. He looks normal, and he is smiling at me like everything is normal. Because everything is normal.

“Hey, Ky!” He comes over to me, lifting my chin and he kisses me. It's not like our normal kisses though. Stan is fast, his lips moving in quick pauses.

“Hey,” I break away from the kiss, but I keep Stan close. I take a deep inhale of his neck. I run my hands through his hair. Trace my fingers on his cheeks, and look at his smile while I do it. I want to be sure I have this moment, it feels important.

“Have you been playing a lot?” Stan asks as he sits down next to me on the window. The rain outside is a nice backdrop, I like how gray the world can be when it's overcast. There is no better feeling than warm lighting and thunderstorms.

“I think I have played every single day since we bought it.” I won't lie when I say this, every night I burn my fingers on the small strings. The skin around the tips is becoming harder, and my chords are becoming smoother. I think it’s a fair trade.

“So what is the song? Can I hear it?” I can't help but smile at Stan, and I think that I have successfully shoved down whatever fear I was holding before.

“Okay, but I swear to god, don't make me embarrassed or I'll never sing in front of you again.” Stan puts his hands up in defense as I say this. I choose to believe him.

I start the chord pattern up, it's a simple one, A to B, and C to A. Then go down lower, A B D. The simple chords were chosen because of how they remind me of Jazz. On Crush, it isn't hard to get that far-away sound with those chords.

Stan is sitting with his eyes closed, he listens to his head slightly moving as I make my way into the riff. I had stan in mind when writing. I could picture him hearing the lyrics for the first time, I could see his face twist as he started to understand the lyrics were about him.

“I like the way I live in danger,
The constant harassment of my body
Is the perfect flavor,
For my egotistical reasoning
Behind everything.”

The melody wasn't hard. When I wrote the lyrics it only made sense that it would be down-tuned. There is no resolution in the voice melody, and the guitar riff is on a constant down. It’s not hard to come up with a lyric line, and for the first time, I think ever. I knew I needed to show someone else. And maybe I want redemption from my 4th-grade lyrical prowess, or lack thereof.

“Plane and flights,
Ready set, and,
Fist fights,
Coffee on the 22nd,
Bruised wrist, held tight.”

Stan has his eyes open, but I'm not looking at him. I focus on this little dent in his pocket, the shape is unfamiliar, my brain can't place it. When I glance at his face, he isn't looking at me, his eyes burning a hole where my fingers press on the guitar neck. When he does catch my eye he opens his mouth, but instead looks down again.

“Cat Scratches
Car crashes
Petty stashes
And you,
Things that hurt me,
Whom I crawl back to.”

I don't finish the lyrics, instead I play down the chords. I am making the notes bleed into one another. I string out the notes until it sounds like nothing more than a few whispers of my fingers dancing lightly over the strings. I finish but decide to keep the guitar in my hand.

“Kyle, that was beautiful.” He connects to me by leaning his forehead to mine. “I mean, truly beautiful. What did you write it about?” I rip my head away from him, looking to see if he truly didn't pick up on the fact that it's about him.

Stan gives me a strange look, utter confusion. I want to scream, I want him to feel as unnerved as I felt yesterday. I want him to feel the confusion that comes with lying. I want his heart to drop, then I want to pick back up. I want him to just tell me what he is hiding, so I can forget about it. I need to know that he values me above lies.

“It's about nothing. I guess just random thoughts, you know how it goes. All that artist bull shit.” I joke but neither of us finds it funny.

“Come on Ky, you can tell me. We are here for each other.” He takes my hand in his. A well forms in my brain, here for each other. He lied for no reason yesterday, he didn't want to seem suspicious. He didn't want me to catch on that he was doing something he probably shouldn't.

“Where were you yesterday?” the words slip out before I can stop them.

A small wave of emotions is over his face until he hides them again. “What do you mean? Kyle, I was at work?” he stands up, his voice going to the defense.

“Stan calm down, I know you weren't at the theater okay, you don't have to lie.” I'm looking up at him, his face goes a little red, but changes to anger in a matter of seconds.

I stay where I am, I allow Stan to take the space he needs. He is walking in small lines in my room, rambling about how he didn't do anything wrong and that he was at work. Tears start streaming down his face.

I move, I'm in front of him, I wipe some of the tears that are running down his cheeks. “Hey, dude breath, we are good, I just don't want you to lie, you can tell me anything, Stan.”

He begins to calm down from anger and turn more to anguish. I follow him to the floor when he suddenly drops. “Kyle I’m sorry, I didn't cheat on you, I swear you can go through my phone, I promise.” His hand was outstretched with an unlocked phone.

“Stan I know you didn't cheat, I just know you weren't at the theater.” His sobs become hoovered, and as he begins to breathe, I can hear him quietly counting, from 1-10 over and over again.

I hold his hand, and the anger that was building in me collapses. I just want to know he is okay, and that he will be okay. “You have never done anything to make me not trust you, it's not about that. You don't need to tell me where you are at, but lying is so weird Stan.”

He nods and looks down, I can tell he is becoming more lucid, the panic leaving his body. For a minute I thought that would be it, that he would tell me what was going on. We would talk about it, and come out stronger.

But I guess when you are in a war, anything can be a bomb. I didn't think it would be a big deal, “When Kenny and I went-” but I stopped, Stan does too. At the sound of Kenny’s name, his breathing quickened.

I couldn't have known. I mean, I didn't know. All I know is that Kenny was that bomb. My ears ring as Stan is suddenly up, pulling me with him out of my room. As he led me down the stairs he kept talking about how ‘If Kenny is so virtual in OUR relationship.’ his voice grew louder, ‘Why don't we just go to him, he should be here for this.’

I didn't know who this person ranting in front of me was, yet I let the rain swallow all my questions as I was ushered to Stan's truck.

Chapter Text

The rain was heavy on the front of the windshield. Stan's foot pressed shockingly hard on the gas pedal. I can feel the water being turned underneath his tires. The car is quiet besides the overstimulating strom against the truck. I'm still pretty unsure as to where he needs to be so fast. My eyes darted to the dash, Stan's speed picked up to 55 through the streets of South Park.

“Stan dude please let's calm down, I don't know why you are upset.” My voice strains over the rain, Stan only seems to be half listening. His jaw is clenched, knuckles are white on the wheel.

Stan has never been like this before, it is like a total replica of someone. Yet I can't understand where the switch played a hand, all I know is that Kenny has something to do with it. Unsure of what to do, I retreat. Something in Stan's eyes makes me want to cry. The love that he once held, has been replaced with white-hot rage.

When I was younger I would blow up too, I remember one time on poor Kenny. I think it was around my senior year. Studying for the shitty exams that South Park High liked to give out. Kenny had stopped by to check up on me, wrong place, wrong time type deal. But even then, it was never this. After I had snapped and yelled, I came back to myself, of course, I cried and Kenny laughed. All was good, the memory seemed to be gold compared to the reality right now. Stan looks hot to the touch, and for some reason that makes me want to cry even more.

I am not a big crier, I never have been. I don't like how my face becomes all puffy, my eyes swollen. My face turns and it begins to match the color of my hair. Right now though, it doesn't matter. I have no control when the tears prick at my eyes.

“Please Stan Pull over.” I plead, begging for some part of Stan's rational brain to come back.

Stan doesn't look for a second, but his eyebrows turn up in what I think is either confusion or sadness. But he doesn't slow, I see the high school pass us in a blur. When it finally hits that Stan is driving to Kenny's house, he already has the truck up to 65 mph.

“What are we doing Stan?” I hear the desperation in my own voice and I cringe a little bit. “Stan I don't know what the fuck you think is going on, but I promise you I have no fucking clue.” Rage is pushing through my mind through anxiety.

“I just don't understand Kyle!” Stan is sobbing, his eyes filled with tears as he watches the windshield wipers frantically throw water off the car.

“What? What don't you understand?” I’m yelling, holding on to the handle, my eyes fixed on what is ahead of us on the road. “Stan fucking pull over the car? Are you trying to fucking kill us?”

Stan is screaming no over my words he is sputtering, “Stan just tell me what the fuck is going on, or I swear to god I will jump out of this car.” I won't, but I will threaten it, just in case it works.

“I should have told you, not Kenny. I don't know why I asked him.” Stan is blabbering. I would feel like this is progress if I had any idea as to what the hell he was going on about.

“Stan, dude be more specific, I don't know what you're talking about!” The words pass through Stan.

So many things can happen in one second. A child can be born, someone can be getting married, someone could be flying a plane right now, and someone can be curing cancer right now. That can all be happening right now, life can change in one second. That is at least what my mom always says. Which is something you can always be aware of, but it changes when you begin to think about it.

When I'm having panic attacks, I like to ground myself and remind myself that there are so many things happening out there. Someone just took their last breath, someone's house was just destroyed, and police are knocking on someone's door with bad news. All of these things can be true at once.

My focus shifts to calming Stan down, yelling might hurt us more right now. I go to place my hand on Stan's shoulder. In an instant, he rips my hand off him, and the truck swerves. This seems to shock him, he begins to slow down. But his mouth is sewn shut, his eyes not leaving the red-hot glare.

“What did you ask Kenny?” I will be able to help him more if I know what's going on. And right now I truly have no idea. I go through the banks of my brain, trying to remember the last time I saw Kenny and Stan talk to each other. I wasn't even involving Kenny, I mean he was with me all day so I'm not sure how he would be involved. I'm certainly not sure what Stan thinks I'm mad about.

Stan is not talking, I suddenly feel urgent, like if I do not fix this something is going to happen. Thinking back I don't even think I got to finish my sentence. Stan never got to hear the words leave my mouth; he just blew up as soon as he heard Kenny’s name.

“Stan, Kenny isn't involved, we went to the movies yesterday, you weren't there. Kenny doesn't even know about any of this!” Before I know it I'm screaming, pleading in a way. To keep myself alive or to keep Stan alive, I don't think too deeply about it.

Stan's face changed, it's like it all clears. His hands lose the grip on his steering wheel, and he gives me a quick glance in a look that says what I would say would be regret, or it was the fact that by the time I had said it, Stan had already pulled into the driveway. Kenny is sitting in a lawn chair, umbrella up, and a cigarette in his mouth. Kenny gives me a sideway glance as Stan slumps in his seat, head slightly hitting the wheel.

“Kyle, I'm so sorry” Stan looks visibly hurt, his hands now around his arms. I want to be angry at him, and I am. I want to pry his mouth open and demand him answer at least one of my questions. But I also want to reach out and figure out what just happened. What changed inside of him just now? I didn't think it would be this big, a part of me was hoping, maybe he was planning something. I don't know, I can't imagine why he would lie, or what he needs to lie about.

“Stan, please tell me what's going on, I'm so confused.” Stan doesn't say anything, but he also isn't doing anything, he is just there slumped. Kenny is giving both of us an intrigued look, but he stays sitting, waiting to see what happens.

The urge to get out is as overwhelming as becoming sick to your stomach. I made it my mission to get out, the conversation seemed to only do more damage. I don't want Stan to go through this every single time we have to talk, it's unhealthy. It's even more unhealthy to sit here and let destroy both of us. I don't know how to move forward in this moment like everything has been one circle. Stan reminds me of a sulking toddler, the silent treatment, and everything.

“Give me your keys.” I watch to see if Stan will react to what I said, but again he doesn't. I give Kenny a look, he looks like he is about to get up. It was about this moment, looking at Kenny I remembered the split-second changes, and how everything went on.

One second I'm looking at Kenny, He is putting out his cigarette, then I reach for Stan's keys. There is nothing I want more than to get on the driver's side and drive us both back home safely. In the same second Stan is pushing my shoulder back with force. Not much, just enough to fully push me back. Stan is screaming at me, not to touch his stuff, he is yelling at me blaming me for all of this. I grab Stan's wrist, I yank him back to my side of the truck. Faces inches together, in a way that would make me blush usually.

“Stan, what did you do?” The words are sharp, I can see Stan's mouth move to answer, but the next moment Kenny is banging on my window, screaming to open the door. Stan sits back down again, his head in his hands. I feel no sympathy. I feel like I may not even know the person who sitting next to me because I hope to God that isn't the Stan I love. The stan that stayed with me in the hospital. The same Stan who came back after I ghosted him. The person sitting to my left is not him.

“If you ever fucking touch me like that again, you will never see me again, and you will leave with a fucking broken nose, Marsh.” I unlock the door myself, and getting out I feel like I'm on autopilot.

Back in high school, Kenny would call it my war face. I was always on edge because everyone liked to see me explode. They would push and push me, then complain when I actually reacted. So I learned to harden, and only show my hand when I needed to. It helps with conserving energy, but it comes with a blank mind. It helps shield the pain.

My mind is lost in thought, I'm staring at the road. The rain is fully soaking through my clothes, it all seems peaceful now, the worst is over. When I look back to the Truck, Kenny is talking to Stan through the open door. But there is only one question he is asking,

“Stan, what did you take?” What did Stan take? Like, steal? Stan wouldn't steal anything. Then in another moment an atomic bomb goes off inside my brain, and everything clicks, the past few days, it all makes sense.

“You are on FUCKING DRUGS STAN?” Maybe I'm having an out-of-body experience because I don't have control over myself. My body is moving, and the rational side of my brain is telling me to back up. People who struggle with addiction need support. That's when the second bomb went off in my brain, my rage turning to Kenny.

“And You fucking knew? You didn't think that maybe it would be important to tell me that?” Once everything starts to come out it doesn't stop, now both Kenny and Stan are looking at me. Faces filled with regret, it fills me with rage.

“So this is what it was all about? You drove all the way over here, almost killing us because? What? You thought Kenny would have been a good friend and told me that you are on drugs? Well, don't you both look fucking stupid now?” The rain fills in the empty silence that follows my words.

It all seems so funny to me, the two people I trusted the most. A laugh erupts from my lips, it's broken, choked. I look at Kenny, it looks like he is trying to find something to say, but he can't. I look at Stan, his eyes are brimmed red, making the blue in his iris glow. It's all so unmoving, the scene at hand. All of us frozen, the moment looked like a painting in my brain the rain and exhaust blended the background together creating smudges of green in my vision.

“Yeah, so if there's nothing else you guys have to say, I'm going home.” I wipe the water dripping down my face, allowing the salt and the freshwater to mix together.

“I can drive you,” Kenny is saying to me.

“I texted Wendy, I really don't want to be around either of you right now.” I pull my soaked hoodie over my head. I count in my head as I journey to the coffee shop, Wendy said I needed to change before getting in her car. Thank God she is always on her phone, I'm suddenly very thankful Wendy is also not involved with this. Who else would I talk to?

When I get to Tweak's, she is parked outside, jumping out of her car as soon as she sees me. The bag of clothes in her hand as she ushers me quickly inside. When we get into the bathroom she looks at me, her face morphs into devastation.

“I'm so sorry Kyle” but I don't cry when she says this, I feel nothing.

Chapter Text

Waking up seems to be getting harder for me again. I decided to leave South Park for a few days, traveling to Denver. I got this shitty hotel for a weekend, next to the Denver airport. I have been driving around it ever since I got here. Glowing red eyes watch mine as I pass into the pickup area again.

When I was in high school I would tell Kenny about how I had this fantasy of running away, not telling anyone, disappearing from South Park forever. Kenny's voice is vague in the memory but I can almost hear him say,

“Are you okay Kyle?”

I haven't spoken to Kenny since last week, he hasn't reached out. Kenny always thinks he knows what is best for me. He assumes that I would rather cool off on my own, I'll reach out when I am ready. I fucking hate that. I want him to beg for forgiveness, I want him to understand how much he has fucked up our trust. But I'm too stubborn, so I'll keep silent and that's how it will be.

Stan is different, Stan has texted me every day, every hour, trying to get me to say anything. How can I? What do I have to say? I can't for the life of me figure out how I want us to move on, if we can move on. I don't know if I have it in me to become a support system like that again.

It was hard with Kenny, in high school, he started with pills, Oxis, then it got worse, he moved on from the pills switching to smoking pipes full of meth. He would skip school for days, one day I walked in at the wrong time, and he was in psychosis. He thought I was there to kill him, he ran at me.

I helped him still, for months we worked together for a home rehab because neither of us had the heart to ask for an adult's help. Even after he was clean, it was still a constant battle to make sure he stayed clean.

Now as I drive around the airport wasting gas, I can't seem to figure out why he wouldn't just tell me. Why Stan never said anything, he never reached out before this. How was I supposed to know he was spiraling if the only thing I witnessed was the breakdown? How should I fix this?

I make one more loop before parking, my eyes follow the flights, the wings flashing a small light as they disappear above the night sky. I chewed on the idea of flying to Michigan. I've always wanted to see the Great Lakes, and no one would think about it. Why would anyone ever go to the Midwest? Or maybe I can fly to San Diego and stay on the coast.

I could text Stan back, I can help him, make sure he is okay. I can put all of this behind me and keep going. But I decided to do nothing, to sit, to be away. Wendy said before I left that I can't run away from all of my problems. I fear that I can, and it would be easy.

A phone call breaks up my thoughts, looking down I see my mom's photo light up the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Kyle!” Shockingly it is not my mom's voice through the other line, it is instead Ike's.

I laugh a little, “What are you doing with Mom's phone dude?”

There is a moment when the call is silent, and a rush of nerves enters me. Trying to think about something that could be happening. Trying to solve a non-existent problem, my brain starts to swarm.

“How soon can you come home? I lost my phone, and Mom won't be the one to say anything.” Ikes tone gets lighter at the end of the sentence, but under it was something more serious.

Ike and I got close over my last year of high school, we spent many nights together playing video games when mom forced us to have these huge family reunions. On Saturdays, we would sit in the synagogue and point out our favorite Hebrew names in the Siddur. Mine was always הבל. Sitting alone in the parking lot I think of what God said to Cain.

“Why are you angry,
and why has your countenance fallen?
If you do well,
will you not be accepted?”

“Why what's going on? Are you okay?”

“Kyle I'm fine, but Stan has been over here every single day looking for you, and today he didn't come. Which sure he might've gotten the hint, but that did not look like a guy who was processing words.”

I pause for a moment, feeling agitated mildly at the thought of Stan freaking out. Then becoming upset with myself for viewing his mental health as a burden.

“Okay, I'll be home in a few hours, I'm going to call him. Thanks, Ike.”

“Sure, will you bring home something sweet though? We don't have anything in the house”

Without waiting for an answer Ike ends the phone call. I want to laugh but I don't find it in me to see his humor. I take a deep breath and click on Stan's contact, quickly calling him before I talk myself out of it. It rings twice before he answers.

“Kyle?! Are you okay? Oh god, I'm sorry, I should've just-”

I cut him off, “Stan what is going on?” I ask and I don't know whether or not I mean right now or what has been happening.

Stan doesn't sound like he is crying, but there is this air around his voice that I can't place yet. He sighs before he responds.

“I-I don't-” something catches in his voice, “I didn't do drugs, I asked Kenny for them, the day I disappeared, I relapsed. I got drunk. I don't know why I did! I have everything I have ever wanted and I fucked it up!”

A pang of emotion hits me in the face, my eyes begin to water as I merge onto the highway. “Why didn't you just tell me? I could've helped you, I could've been there for you.” My voice is even, trying to fake calmness.

“I didn't want to burden you with this, I didn't want you to have to worry about me”

“Well, I am worried Stan! Which isn't a bad thing, I just care about you! I want you to be okay, I want to help you be okay!”

My car seems to be the only one on the highway this late, my headlights illuminate the dotted white lines as I drive swiftly past them. The vastness of nothingness seems to threaten to cave into my car if I open my window.

“But I don't know what will help! I feel guilty like I'm letting the best thing ever slip through my fingers.”

“Were you drinking the day you drove us to Kenny?”

The world seems to close in as Stan stays quiet on the other end. Rage and sadness take over my body, maybe it is rage caused by sadness. I don't dwell on it, my eyes are fixed on the road, and highway signs seem to pass me at an alarmingly fast rate.

“I was.” That's all Stan says for a minute, and I can't seem to find the words to fill the silence.

“Why?” I choke out, the facade of calmness is removing itself.

“I couldn't find a reason not to.” Stan sounds so catatonic, no emotions in his voice as he speaks.
It makes me want to vomit, to swiftly swerve my car into the side of the median, because right now I can't seem to find a reason not to. Stan saved my life, and I can't even notice when he is drunk? I mean seriously, what kind of a boyfriend am I?

“I'll be at your house in an hour, let's talk in person,” I say, my voice high as if I am telling some sort of lie.

“Where are you Ky?”

The nickname makes me feel significantly worse. Maybe we are just two doomed people. We are the people who people will write stories about. Maybe there is no way out of that.

“I was in Denver, but I'm coming home now.”

“Are you okay?” Stan asks.

I laugh, it is something bitter, the air rushes out of my lungs, and the tears threaten my eyesight,
“You don't- You shouldn't be… I should be asking you that!”

There is another silence, “I'm fine stan, and I would just rather have this conversation in person.”

“Okay, just be safe Kyle.”

“Yeah, I'll talk to you soon.”

With that I hang up the phone, throwing it against the passenger seat. I watch as it bounces and falls into the crack between the seat and the door. For a moment I think about stopping my car, pulling off to the shoulder, and grabbing it. In a different timeline maybe I would stop, but I didn't.

I kept driving, it was silent as I made my way on the highway, silently watching as the trees zipped by on my windows. I don't think about it much, I listen to the wind rip against my window, some sort of Denver storm is starting to cover the moon, making everything even darker. The only lights on the road are my headlights.

I was preoccupied in my mind, in a way I think I was only passively driving. Zoned out looking at nothing. That is all this is, nothing. Like when you look at the ocean at night, the waves disappear into pitch black abyss, and my mind always thinks about all the people who lay at the bottom.

In the darkness, something reflects the light of my headlights. My brain doesn't process the movement, watching two small lights in the corner of my eyes. It is when my speed hits about 70 that I realize what those lights were, eyes.

When you take your driving class, they tell you don't swerve for animals, just hit them. But I don't think about driving class as I slam on the brakes, turning the wheel to a sharp right. It is about the third roll of the car when I think that maybe I should've stayed on the phone with Stan.