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Stan lies awake on Kyle’s sofa. It’s past midnight, and the entire Broflovski family is fast asleep, including Kyle, who’s on an air mattress on the floor. They’re having a sleepover, a routine of theirs that hasn’t died down even though they’re considered too old for it by everyone they know. It’s always the same, they get pizza, play guitar hero until late evening, and then talk about whatever their exhausted brains can conceive until they fall asleep. Tonight, Stan has tried every trick in the book to make himself tired. Counting sheep, counting backward, and reciting his favorite song, all of which lead to nothing. He’s getting frustrated at this point, jealous that Kyle is sleeping soundly on the floor, not having to deal with any of this.
After what feels like hours of tossing and turning, he decides that he can’t just keep lying here. Maybe a snack will help. He quietly gets off the couch and tiptoes to Kyle’s kitchen. He’s known Kyle and his family long enough to remember where they keep all his favorite snacks. He gets a hot pocket out of the freezer and cringes as he presses the beeping buttons on the microwave. In the silence of the night, they sound like bombs. Stan leans against the counter with only the hum of the microwave to occupy him. He peeks at Kyle, still peacefully asleep, fiery red curls splayed across the pillow. Stan has always loved his curls.
Kyle is one of those people who looks like they’re in a movie when they sleep. He doesn’t drool or snore or sleep in a weird position, he just rests on his hands like a prince. Stan has always found it hilarious yet endearing that Kyle is even perfect when he sleeps. Stan steps into the living room again and sits on the couch. He doesn’t know why, but he can’t seem to keep his eyes off Kyle right now. The way the moonlight glow illuminates his features. The way his eyelashes cast a shadow on his freckled cheeks. His gentle breathing and his soft lips. He looks so calm, which Stan doesn’t get to see very often. Kyle is often incredibly tense. He’s become increasingly overworked in high school, juggling AP classes, basketball, and a job at the grocery store.
While lost in thought, Stan completely forgets about the hot pocket. He’s still gazing at Kyle when the microwave suddenly begins beeping. Kyle jolts awake, groggily looking around to find the culprit who has disturbed his precious rest. Stan is frozen in shock, eyes still on Kyle, when Kyle’s eyes land on his.
“Dude, it’s like 1am. Are you making food right now?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Stan mutters, quickly getting up from the couch and returning to the kitchen, heart pounding. He takes the hot pocket and just sets it on the counter. He’s too embarrassed to eat anything now. Why was he staring at Kyle for so long? He feels stupid. Kyle slides out from under his blanket and heads into the kitchen with Stan, turning on the light. They instinctively close their eyes at the sudden brightness. When Stan’s eyes open again, he sees a sleepy, messy-haired Kyle next to him, leaning against the counter. His hair is frazzled, and his eyes are droopy.
“Aren’t you gonna eat that?” Kyle points to the infamous hot pocket.
“Uh- ’m not hungry anymore.”
“You’re so dumb, dude,” Kyle snickers. There’s no malice behind it—just endearment.
Stan just chuckles, unsure of what to do now.
“So, um, I don’t know if I was just… delirious or whatever, but I swear I saw you staring at me when I woke up. Was I like drooling in my sleep or something?” Kyle asks, rubbing his face as if he was, in fact drooling and wanted to get it off.
Stan feels his stomach drop. What was he supposed to say? That he was just admiring how beautiful he thinks his best friend is? Stan doesn’t know how Kyle could possibly react to that information. At the same time, though, he doesn’t want to lie. He’s never lied to Kyle, and he doesn’t want to start now. Stan clears his throat awkwardly, eyes stuck to the dated tiled floor of Kyle’s kitchen.
“This is gonna make me sound like a total gaywad, but I was just staring at you. I don’t know.”
Kyle says nothing for a moment, and Stan can’t bring himself to look at him. He wishes he could just run out of there and hide in his bedroom forever.
“Oh.” He says after what feels like an eternity of silence.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
There’s another pause.
“Well, I mean, would it be so bad if you were being gay?” Kyle turns to Stan who can’t help but look back at the taller boy now. Kyle appears much more awake than he did a moment ago.
“What?” is all he can muster.
“I’m just saying, like, I wouldn’t be mad if it was like.. a gay thing.” Kyle shrugs
Stan can’t break his gaze away from Kyle now. His words are like an anchor holding him in place. Blue and green are drawn to each other. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but he can’t say he wants it to end.
“Oh. Cool.”
“Cool.”
Silence, again. Stan’s starting to get sick of all the silence he’s experienced tonight, but right now, he’s simply at a loss for words. There’s an unfamiliar tension between the two of them, and he’s not exactly sure what Kyle wants. Maybe this is all just a funny joke that Kyle’s playing on him. They’ve always been best friends, after all. Why would he rock the boat now?
“So… was it?” Kyle asks. He looks impatient, tapping his fingers against the counter.
Stan wants to say yes with his entire heart, but his mouth isn’t cooperating with his brain. Plus, he’s terrified that he somehow horribly misinterpreted this entire situation. Although, Kyle hasn’t said anything that would indicate that. He said that he wouldn’t be upset if Stan had certain intentions. Maybe he should take a chance. If he doesn’t, this moment will pass, and they’ll go on as normal. This night will never be spoken of again and Stan will forever wonder what could have happened.
He decides that it just isn’t worth it.
“Yeah. It was” His hands are shaking.
“Really?”
“Uh, yeah. I thought you looked really attractive and handsome and stuff. I dunno.”
A smile creeps upon Kyle’s lips. Stan really loves his dimples.
“Dude, I really wanna kiss you right now. Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” Stan says a little too quickly.
Kyle steps forward and cups Stan’s face in his hands. He leans in and it’s all bliss from there. This feels so natural, like his lips were made to interlock with Kyle’s. His stomach is doing backflips and his heart is beating against his chest. He feels like he’s been set aflame in the best way possible.
They pull apart after a moment, still oh so close.
“For the record, I think you’re ‘really attractive and handsome and stuff’ too, Stan.”
“Don’t mock me” Stan says playfully.
“I’m not mocking you. You’re cute.” Kyle says, pressing a kiss to Stan’s forehead.
Stan’s heart practically explodes, the ghost of Kyle’s lips on his skin. He doesn’t know what to say now, so he eventually decides on going in for another kiss. Kyle melts into it, arms locked around Stan’s waist, Stan’s arms around his neck. They lazily kiss for the rest of the night, eventually falling onto the couch together. Stan rests his head against Kyle’s chest and falls asleep for the first time that evening to the sound of Kyle’s gentle heartbeat.
Stan thinks hot pockets might be his favorite food. For no reason in particular, of course.