Author's Note: Hello everyone, Claire here! To give credit where it's due, this fic was inspired by the post wolfthedragon made on tumblr, which conveyed an annoyance of fics only centered around Cartman and Stan fighting over the affections of Kyle, and not the other way around. And of course I thought the greatest solution would be this, "Divided". Since FFN link system sucks, just search my AO3 version of the fic, the link is posted in the notes. xx
The laughter and excited chattering was infectious, as it was the last day of school. Everyone was looking forward to summer vacation, especially if it meant leaving South Park behind to go on some much needed holidays.
Of course, not everyone had these luxuries. Mainly, Stan and Kyle.
It had been planned for Kyle's family that they would visit their uncle, a visit which would take them over the state border into New Jersey. If he had to be honest, Kyle had been looking forward to reuniting with his place of birth, maybe wandering familiar streets and showing sights to Ike.
But then his mother had ruined everything. He wasn't sure what had started it, but the next thing everyone knew was that his mother and uncle Murrey were fighting.
The night before as Kyle packed his suitcase for the anticipated trip, his father came into the room and sat Kyle down, explaining that there had been a change in plans.
"You can just unpack everything, Kyle. We aren't going anywhere."
"What?! But why?"
Gerald sighed, rubbing at the side of his face as he explained, "Your mother and uncle Murrey are having a disagreement, so our trip will be delayed."
Kyle chewed on his bottom lip, fighting back the desire to spit out a slew of curses, "For how long?" He had been more than prepared to hear the inevitable, 'forever, we aren't going'. But it was outpaced by a lengthy pause, which only fuelled the hollowed sensation of his stomach and its despair.
After considering it for a second, Gerald slowly responded, "We should let things cool between them, but we'll try again in two weeks."
"Two weeks?!"
His father shrugged, "If things still aren't better, we can always try going somewhere else." He stood up from the edge of the bed where he been sitting, "I'm sorry, son. Things aren't always meant to be." He patted Kyle's head reassuringly before he left, leaving his eldest to frown at his almost finished suitcase. Angrily he grabbed it, and upturned the heavy luggage, letting his things spill out in a messy avalanche.
The next day he had told himself that it didn't matter, that at least he could spend time with Stan over the course of the break. Kyle took a form of satisfication that he wouldn't be alone in his misery, as everyone in the school knew how Randy Marsh had fucked up his family's tickets to a tropical getaway.
How the summer weather and its fruity drinks, beaches, and brilliant sunshine had been lost forever to deary snow and mountain range(s). They had all watched as an excited Stan entered the school, happily saying goodbyes and wishful thinking of a new tanned version of himself. The downfall from this, was a gloom that cringed at any mentions of the should have been tropical adventure. In all likelihood the wounds were still raw and red, so when Kyle mentioned the last day to Stan that they'd get to chum around, two trapped losers, Stan was less than pleased.
An argument was the last thing Kyle expected, enough to blindside him completely. But after he got over the shock, the defensive words were already slipping out of his mouth, furious as he retaliated.
"That's not what I meant Stan!"
"Oh, so what did you mean, Kyle? That I should take joy in being some 'loser'?!"
Kyle exhaled deeply, clenching his hands tightly until his fingernails dug into his palms, "No. All I was saying was that at least we have each other, there's no need to be melodramatic over everything I say."
"I'm melodramatic now?" Stan scoffed, and the sound echoed in the thinning halls. There was a hushed tone that lingered, eyes watching as these two best friends fought. Some were considerate enough to pretend that they weren't listening as they rummaged through their lockers, making the mechanics of zipping up a backpack or relacing a shoe purposely slow.
"Yes, you are. You're taking everything I'm saying out of context! I know you're upset about your father being an idiot, but that doesn't give you the right to take it out on me!"
"Don't" Stan hissed, "call my dad an idiot."
Kyle rolled his eyes, "Well it's true, and everyone knows it." He tried to catch someone else's eye, hoping through a nod to show Stan he was being riled up for no reason. In that strange and hostile environment, no one would meet his gaze. And if his eyes skimmed over them, they bustled to cower or run away.
The next words that were said from his friend's mouth had him stiffening, and like a gear toy, he haltingly turned around.
"At least...at least my mom isn't a bitch."
This individual had been his closest friend for years, a person he could fully trust when he wasn't able to with so many others. The pain that flashed over him was real, one with such startling clarity, that he was baffled at the concept of experiencing anything else.
"What did you just say?"
That yanked the floodgates open, and before he could drown within the meaning of it, Stan tripped over his words as he added more on. Hoping vainly that maybe he could rise above the murkiness of it, and if he couldn't, at least he could drag Kyle further down.
"I...I said that your mother is a bitch. And you know, if this is how you treat your friends...then maybe we shouldn't, uh, we shouldn't be that anymore."
Kyle merely stared, unsure how to process the change in their relationship, over the tidal wave that threatened to consume him. He was vaguelly aware of the red that began to tinge his vision, the overpowering sensation of needing to hit something or someone. Hitting Stan. Hitting Stan repeatedly, to make him feel just as bad. The words he lashed out with were painful, stabbing his belly with tiny invisible knives as they wrenched on his heart.
"Fine! Good riddance, I don't need you, I'll be better off!"
There was a pause, no one knew what to do. They just remained there, staring at one another until Stan looked away. In the brief second that he glanced to the side, he was running down the halls, trying to leave the awful feelings of their fight behind. Kyle glared after him, oblivious to the whispers of his classmates.
That first step outside was purgatory, caught between entering a dream or a nightmare. Stan couldn't tell the difference, though the guilt was immediate. He wanted to go back and apologize, an unknown without Kyle was too much. But to admit his wrongdoings would be a punch to the gut, one he could live without.
Blindly he walked without a destination, going over the events that had just transpired, and wove them into different angles and other things he could have said. Insults that were witty, and comebacks that Kyle would be dumbfounded to hear. Thinking of these things left a bitter and heady taste in Stan's mouth, tainting until his guilt was eclipsed.
He resolved that he wouldn't turn back, that it was below him. How it wasn't his fault, it was Kyle's. A friend that always had to be right, the smartest with the clean moral compass and principles.
I always apologize, he should do it for once, Stan thought with a frown. Now the trick was finding something to do that didn't even his best fr-former best friend.
At that moment Stan began to realize how far he'd walked, taking in his surroundings with frank surprise. In the grey horizon, he caught a glimpse of red in a convenience store's parking lot. He rose a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun's rays, squinting until he finally realized who it was. Adjusting his backpack's straps, he hurried to make his way over.
