Work Text:
so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
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The goal was to get the fuck out, no matter what. To see the world and experience life outside of South Park, where they knew everyone there was to know and did everything there was to do. They never considered what would happen after the fact, never stopped to consider what getting out meant. Stan always assumed he and Kyle would go to the same college. They’d talked about it since freshman year, on nights in Stan’s room, their legs hanging off the mattress, heads together while playing video games and watching R-rated movies.
When Kyle told Stan he was going to Yale, Stan was flabbergasted. He did it while they were walking home from school together, Kenny and Cartman already heading toward their own houses.
Stan stopped mid-step. “What are you talking about, dude? I thought we were both going to Florida State.”
“I know, just. Look, Yale’s got an amazing law program, dude. I can’t say no to that. This is important.”
“Since when is school more important to you than our friendship?”
Kyle winced slightly. “It’s not about school; it’s about the future, dude. This choice can affect my entire life. Yale will open so many doors for a career.”
And close the door on our friendship , Stan wanted to say, but he knew how melodramatic it would sound. Instead, he hardened his eyes and said, “Cartman was right about you. You’re just lame-ass, money-hungry Jew.”
Kyle visibly flinched and his eyes flared. “Fuck you, man,” he said and walked off in the other direction even though his house was the other way.
Stan apologized three days later but it was still strained and awkward, like everything was fragile now. Stan knew he was being petty and selfish but he couldn’t help it. Three days without seeing Kyle was bad enough. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to deal with three months at a time.
It still wasn’t perfect between them when Stan left, but they didn’t bring it up again. Kyle was doing what was best for him and even though Stan didn’t know what life would bring without his Super-best, he needed to regroup and deal with it.
Stan realized after about five minutes of high school football that he didn’t want to play in college. Although he knew jocks had an easier time, he wasn’t interested. He decided to major in Sociology, figuring if he could deal with Eric Cartman’s mentality, he could deal with anything.
The first few weeks of fall semester, he and Kyle texted non-stop, things like this professor is worse than Garrison if that’s possible and there’s this dude in my class who could give the fat-ass a run for his money. Stan couldn’t keep himself from laughing and even got in trouble a few times. He didn’t care. They talked every night for the first few weeks and then it tapered off. The texts became few and far between and the phone calls less frequent and slightly rushed. It was partly Stan’s fault – his roommate invited him to a few parties and he was meeting some different people, but still, Stan always thought they had more staying power than that. When he realized he was using words like ‘staying power’ in relation to a friendship and staring at a few guys at parties it dawned on him that maybe his puking around Wendy meant the opposite of what everyone thought. After making out with some frat boy at a house party he considered his assessment valid.
He wanted to call Kyle, tell him everything and nothing at all. It wasn’t like he’d never thought about it, but it was only Kyle before. He thought it was just – a weird best friend thing, jerking off at night and imaging Kyle’s lips on his. Their friendship didn’t fit into the rest of their lives and he figured this was no different.
Instead, he called Kenny, who dryly congratulated him on losing his gay virginity.
“It was just some making out,” Stan said, feeling even more anxious after the fact then what he actually happened.
“Dude, gay is gay. You tell Kyle?”
“Uh, no.”
And then he changed the subject and Kenny gratefully took the hint.
He mainlined films from time to time on weekends when he didn’t feel like getting trashed. He watched the one Bebe had introduced him to, with the boombox. Wendy never did get the reference. He wondered if Kyle would, if he ever did that to him. He wondered if he’d see it as the grand gesture Stan admittedly knew it would be.
He talked to Kyle before Thanksgiving break. Stan’s inner thought processes all revolved around, ‘I’ve kissed a few guys now, and I want you to know’ and so maybe he wasn’t actually talking as much as he should have been.
“Dude, you’re like, not even in this conversation,” Kyle said, irritated. He was complaining about some banned book thing. With Kyle, everything – even whining or complaining -- sounded passionate and fiery. Stan loved that about him.
“Sorry, just have shit on my mind.”
“Oh. So, listen, I’m not coming back for Thanksgiving break.”
“Huh? Why not, dude?”
“It’s only a few days. There’s no real point, right? I’d rather get some reading done.”
Stan scowled. “Jesus, Kyle, it's like school has taken you over.”
“And what are you doing? Partying your ass off on yachts and at beach houses?”
Stan gripped the phone harder. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. Excuse me, dickwad, I’m off to snort some blow and fuck some bitches.”
Stan didn’t call to apologize and Kyle didn’t text. Honestly, he knew Kyle was serious about grades and school but he always wanted him to act like he missed Stan, at least a little bit.
Stan arrived home to South Park just as a mix of sleet and snow began. He longed for the Florida sunshine immediately. Dinner with his parents was actually nice, until his mom said, “Mrs. Broflovski said Kyle was coming home today, too.”
“Cool,” Stan said, without feeling.
He knew his mom and dad exchanged a look. Maybe they were taking lessons from Kenny, because they didn’t say anything further.
Around 9:30 there was a knock on the door. His mom was in bed while his dad was passed out on the couch with a beer in his lap and the football game blaring.
He looked out the window on his way to the door, noticing the sleet and snow mix had changed to rain. When he opened the door, his mouth dropped open. Kyle was standing there, hatless, a light green hoodie covering his hair.
“Dude, you’re drenched.”
Kyle blinked through the raindrops. “I may have been standing here for about five minutes before knocking.”
“That’s kinda retarded.”
Kyle shivered and hugged his arms over his chest. “Can I come in or what, dude?”
Stan seriously considered saying no. “Fine, just be quiet. My parents are sleeping.”
They tiptoed up to Stan’s room as quietly as they could with Kyle sloshing water all over the place.
Stan grabbed a towel from the hall closet and threw it at him. Once inside his room, Kyle removed his hood and wiped at his hair.
Stan stood a few feet away from him in the center of the room and crossed his arms. “So?”
Kyle glanced at him, his hair wild and sticking up. “I wanted to get this over with no so we both don’t worry our entire vacation when it’s going to happen.”
“You mean so you don’t have a freak attack wondering when you’re going to run into me.”
Kyle ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, something like that. Look, I was an idiot. I just. I got a scholarship, Stan. And one of the requirements is maintaining a 3.8 grade point average and I’m just – freaking out, alright? My classes are killer, my professors suck, and there’s no one there that I--”
“That you what?” Stan asked, holding his breath.
“There’s no one there that gets me. It’s not like I haven’t met people but. It’s not the same. I feel like I’m a different person. I thought maybe that’s what I wanted – to start fresh but. It’s not what I need. I need – someone who knows me.”
Stan looked at him, skeptical but daring to hope. “Are you here because you need someone or are you here because you need me?” He vaguely was aware he was acting out a scene from a film right now, but it was relevant and sometimes life imitated art.
Kyle didn’t say anything for a beat and Stan wasn’t sure he wanted an answer any longer.
“Forget it, I don’t care,” he said, pulling Kyle forward by his soaked hoodie and fitting their bodies together.
Kyle sighed into the hug, going boneless in Stan’s arms. “I need you,” he said, voice low, “you and your stupid boombox.”
Stan stiffened in surprise, loving that Kyle got the reference, that even after being apart and distant, Kyle still knew him better than anyone else in the world.
When their lips met for the first time it was a number of things: odd yet familiar, strange yet normal, slow yet passionate. And through it all, Stan knew he was finally home.
[end]