Chapter Text
Heat seeped through the paper cup, but Kyle wrapped his hands around it tightly. The slightly painful warmth offered a welcome distraction from the source of his anxiety.
Who also used to be the reason for shy, blushing smiles. And belly-aching laughter. And earth-shaking sadness when they finally ended up separating after spending a lifetime living right next to each other.
And Kyle has not seen him since… well, since what was most likely the end to their years of friendship. And it was all Stan’s fault. It had to be since Kyle had been so achingly careful. Aware of every millisecond he spent admiring his closest friend, only to quickly turn away to avoid notice. He tiptoed around conversations involving Stan’s tumultuous relationship with Wendy, trying to focus only on what was best for Stan. For Stan’s happiness. Kyle diligently pushed all his longing, his desire, his frustration deep down; all for Stan.
Kyle gripped the coffee cup harder, letting the sensation bite into his palms until it was completely unbearable. He relaxed his hands, and finally took a tentative sip to prevent scalding his tongue. Kyle had always been cautious, even as a kid.
The chime signaling the opening door made Kyle jump slightly in his seat. He forced himself to stare at the glow of his laptop screen, which was opened in front of him in a pathetic effort to get some homework done. Kyle might have been on winter break from his first year away at college, but he had stupidly agreed to do some research for the mock trial team on his time off. He had hoped that a clear task would alleviate the restlessness he felt while he was back in South Park, but instead, he just had a whole lot of stuff to do and minimal capacity to focus.
He heard the scraping of chair legs against the floor as Stan took the seat across from him. They were at their usual table, where the pair had sat back in high school after school days while Kyle worked on college applications and Stan caught up on late homework assignments. It used to agitate Kyle to no end, how Stan would coast by during the semester all to end with the lowest A possible. But, Kyle supposed, that just showed how differently Stan and Kyle moved through life. For every meticulously planned step Kyle took, Stan blindly stumbled. Everything just worked out for him. The bastard.
Kyle finally let his gaze drift up and all the air left his lungs at the sight. His Stan, no not his Stan, was all endearing boyish energy and warmth, and maybe (though Kyle might've been imagining it) nerves too. Having shed his winter hat long ago, Stan left his ears exposed to the cold which made them slightly pink to match the flush in his cheeks. His inky black hair was mussed, and longer in the back than when Kyle had last seen him. He had already shrugged off his puffer jacket, leaving him in a heather gray henley that hugged his broad shoulders. And if this was not enough to make Kyle want to run out of the coffee shop screaming bloody murder, Stan gave him a perfect, slightly crooked, smile and said, “It is so good to see you, dude.”
As if he had not completely overturned Kyle’s world the last time they had seen each other. Maybe it was this if not Kyle’s instinctual defensiveness, which led him to reply with a short, “Same.”
If Stan caught wind of Kyle’s coldness towards him, he did not show it. Instead, he launched into a long-winded update of his college life, peppered with questions about Kyle. His easygoing manner and obvious joy relaxed Kyle and softened his resolve, as he gave Stan insights into his own time away.
Stan had gone to school in North Carolina on a football scholarship. It was a small school, but at least he saw some playing time. His time outside brought out the olive tones in his skin, giving him a glow that was typically rare in cold and gray South Park. He managed almost all As and Bs in his first semester, even though he had to juggle schoolwork and other duties. Kyle assumed this included a long-distance relationship with Wendy.
Meanwhile, Kyle was in Connecticut, where he spent most of his time squirreled away in the library reading and working. He also kept busy as a member of the mock trial team and a writer for the school newspaper. He sometimes took photographs for the paper, but only a select few made it in.
He could picture the two of them as though they were captured in the lens of his camera: Stan’s athletic build and humble handsomeness, Kyle’s gangly leg blurred due to it bouncing under the table, and his favorite brown knit sweater which he hoped dulled the fiery hue of his curly hair. What a pair they made. They never really matched, but perhaps that had always drawn them to each other. Opposites attract.
Stan laughed at Kyle’s story about his kooky roommate, who reminded him slightly of Butters. He shook his head, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.
“Man, I really missed this. I have not laughed this hard in so long.” He stopped, as though sobering himself, and looked down at the table before softly asking, “Why haven't you called?”
Kyle’s mouth opened and closed stupidly. For once, he had run out of words. Only Stan could have that effect on him. He drew in a breath and gathered himself together.
“Well, I was not sure if I should. After, y’know, that last night. Because of Wendy and everything.”
Stan looked up at Kyle, light eyes widening. “That’s what this is all about? I said sorry and thought we agreed to forget about it. I didn't expect you to stop talking to me altogether.”
Of course, he didn't get it. That night did not have the same effect on Stan as it did on Kyle. This only made Kyle’s temper flare up, and before he could even register his words he said, “That is so fucking typical of you Stan,” he crossed his arms and looked over Stan’s right shoulder to avoid his eyes, “You never think.”
Stan reeled back as though he had been struck. Kyle hoped the other boy felt any semblance of the ache he had been dealing with for months. That would serve him right.
Stan’s brows knitted together as his mouth contorted into a frown. “Shit dude, I didn't think you would be that pissed off about it. We were both so faded, and we have been friends for so long…,” Stan paused, pensive, “I just did not think you were that type of person. I made a mistake.”
That type of person? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? The type of person who kept every picture he had with his best friend, because he could not bear to toss them? The type of person who used to spend every long hug with said friend in a silent, desperate prayer?
Please, please let him be mine. Don’t let me lose him.
Kyle laughed humorlessly. “Wow…okay. Fuck you, man.” He pushed himself away from the table and stormed out of the coffee shop, draining his cup before tossing it in the trashcan outside.
He walked across the street to the park where he and his friends used to sit and try to fish or play extravagant pretend games. Everything in this goddamn town reminded him of Stan. He hated it.
He sullenly sat on this icy bench and dug the toes of his Doc Marten-clad left foot into the powdery snow.
His mind was moving a hundred miles an hour. It seemed as though Stan knew his dreadful secret. Maybe he had known before that night. Of course, he had to have realized it after, due to Kyle’s reaction.
Kyle replayed the events in his mind, crystal clear even though it had been a few months and the pair were both wine-drunk and dozy from skunky weed that Kenny had procured for them.