Warning: this is a vent story that parallels personal experience. It talks about death and some other rather dark themes. It's sole intent is to make me feel better, as Stary is kind of a therapeutic ship for me. I really need a Gary in my life right now.

The Bus

Stan's day was going horribly thus far.

To begin with, he hadn't slept that well last night. He'd spent most of it lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the fact that one of his friends was gone and dead forever. At some point, he'd sat in his kitchen and ate some ice cream, starving and depressed, crying a little bit here and there. When he woke up, he woke up with only five minutes to get ready to go, so he'd hurriedly put on some clothes and ran out the door, only to be faced with a heavy rainfall. He ran to the bus stop, but to no avail - his transportation had already departed. He knew that his mom wouldn't drive him, and it wasn't like his dad was in the picture anymore.

It had been months since that boy had died, and it was still weighing heavily on Stan's mind.

So they were never close. Friends that shared a drink from time to time and maybe had some long conversations, but never close friends. Stan wanted to be close to him. But he was afraid; this boy was really less of a boy and more of a man. He was hardened by experiences and didn't have time for pathetic, immature and confused bisexual boys like Stan. That wasn't to say that Stan didn't still want to be a part of the French man's life. That wasn't to say that he regretted not being a part of his life while he was still alive.

Okay, so it was horrible before the day itself started. But Stan didn't want to think about that anymore.

Stan stood under the roof of some random building as he weighed his options. The rain was pouring down all around him. He couldn't go home at that point, his mom would just be pissed. He'd already missed way too much school that year and his mom had a job to go to, she couldn't drive him. But there was no way for him to get to school. He'd texted Kyle, but he knew that all three of his really close friends - Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman, all were on the bus at that moment.

God, Stan wanted to punch himself.

He stared at the sky, willing something, anything to happen that would, for once, be good. He waited, several minutes, and yet, nothing. Nothing happened.

He just stood there, in the rain, thinking about Christophe DeLorne and wondering why Stan had been so stupid as to not have told him how he felt. It was a small crush, but it was there, and now he would never have the opportunity to get over that small crush like a normal person would. Why did things have to happen the way that they did? Why did he have to die in that accident? Why didn't those around him care? The only one who really seemed to care was Gregory, and although he and Stan shared a few words on the matter, he couldn't bring himself to say anything more. It was too disheartening.

Stan was pulled from his thoughts by a cacophonous beeping. He glanced up to see a little prius, owned by none other than Gary Harrison. The blonde, cheerful guy waved him over to the door, and Stan swallowed thickly, before approaching. Gary was a nice, pleasant guy to be around, with golden hair creamy skin and dreamy eyes. He was probably the poster boy for an attractive American 17 year old, and sometimes, it made Stan a little bit nervous, a little bit flustered. Gary rolled down his window despite the rain.

"Hey buddy," Gary greeted him. "Do you need a ride?"

Stan smiled in a plaintive manner and nodded. "...Yeah, thanks dude."

Stan and Gary weren't close. They'd gotten over the little scuffle in the fourth grade, but it wasn't like they talked. If it were anyone else but Gary, they would have passed Stan up - but Gary was just the sort of guy to always help someone in need. Stan gratefully got into the car, a little too self aware and a little too damp.

"Sorry," he muttered, concerned that he was soaking the seats.

Gary smiled at him. "Don't worry about it. I'm just glad that I saw you."

Stan didn't think Gary was the one who had reason to be glad, but he just nodded instead of saying anything further on it.

The ride was rather quiet, aside from the rain pattering against the windows and the continuous mechanical motion of the windshield wipers. Stan stared ahead, his lips in a thin line, and he willed himself not to cry. He didn't have any particular reason for it, at that moment - he was still thinking of Christophe, sure, and it was distressing, but it wasn't anything to cry over. Not at that moment, anyway. He surmised that it was simply something his body thought natural to do, but then, regardless of how wet he was, Stan highly doubted that he could get away with crying and disguising it as excess rainwater. He rolled his eyes at the very thought.

"So," Gary suddenly said, his voice plain but expectant.

Stan glanced over to him. When there was no continuation, he rose a brow. "...So?"

Gary kept his eyes straight ahead, always on the road, but Stan could tell that he had the LDS boy's attention. Gary's fingers tightened around the wheel as he took a particularly sharp turn, before he stopped at a red light, and then finally looked over to Stan.

"Some storm, huh?"

Stan stared openly, confused as to why Gary would say that. It was raining, yes, but it wasn't bad enough to be called a storm, much less 'some storm'. Why even mention the weather to begin with?

"Uh, yeah," Stan agreed, disregarding his own thoughts on the matter.

Gary glanced over to the light and then back to Stan. "...Hey Stan."

"Yeah?" He tilted his head, sensing one of those weird way-too-kind-to-be-true sentiments that sometimes came from Gary.

"We're friends, right?" Gary inquired, and then the Mormon kid was no longer looking at him, but at the light, even though it was still red.

That was kind of a weird question; it took him off guard. Stan didn't really know the answer. "Well... Yeah." He answered anyway, brows furrowing. "Why?"

Gary didn't answer immediately, he just stared at the road. "I just want you to know that I care about you."

Stan felt his heart pick up. "I..." Was all he could manage.

The light turned green and Gary began to drive again. It was silent between them, the rain whispering odd things into Stan's ear as he kept his eyes trained on his lap. Why would Gary tell him something like that?

"Stan," Gary said suddenly. "You're my best friend."

Stan jumped and then shot Gary a surprised look, his mouth falling open for a moment. "I... What?"

Gary's lips thinned out as he stared ahead, and if Stan didn't know any better he'd say that the guy was embarrassed. "I don't have many friends at school. And even the ones I do have, I... I'm not really close to," he admit, and his voice faltered.

Stan felt his heart pick up. "I don't know what to say." The honest truth.

Gary flashed him a kind, but slightly melancholy smile, and Stan thought for a moment that he wasn't the only one who wasn't having a great day. They came to a halt in the school's parking lot, and Gary turned off the car, but he didn't get out, instead just staring ahead silently for a few minutes while the rain continued to fall against the car windows. Stan turned to him and, for a moment, just sort of admired his features. Which was probably inconsiderate of him, being that Gary was a devout Mormon and would probably feel violated by being looked at by another guy in that manner. Stan didn't feel guilty. He was feeling awful at the moment and Gary's looks made him feel just a tiny bit better.

Gary sighed and then turned to him, his smile still in place but with a plaintive tone to it. "It's okay, Stan."

Stan didn't know what was okay, but for some reason, those words were like a trigger for his tears to finally fall. He looked away, embarrassed as suddenly his face was soaked in tears, red and sniffling as he bit his lip. Gary unbuckled himself and leaned forward awkwardly across the clutch to embrace Stan, holding him in his arms as Stan began to sob mournfully. He allowed himself to be held by Gary, burying his head into the crook of Gary's neck while his apparent friend rubbed his back and made comforting sounds. They remained like that for several minutes until Stan's hiccups and cries eventually dissipated, and he admittedly felt a lot better.

When Gary finally pulled away, it was to reach for a few tissues he had in the glove box, distributing several to Stan.

"Th-thanks," he mumbled, feeling pretty pathetic and dumb as he wiped his tears and blew his nose. He assumed he probably looked pretty gross right then, especially in contrast to always-perfect Gary Harrison.

Gary just smiled brightly, but something dismal remained about his smile, and he rubbed Stan's shoulder. "Anytime."

Stan looked up at him rather helplessly, scrunching the used tissues in his hands as he tried to figure out what to do right then. Gary just kept on smiling, even as he leaned forward, and Stan's breath picked up right before their lips made contact. It was a firm, reassuring kiss that was probably the most comforting thing Stan had ever felt, and he melted, his eyes fluttering closed as his shoulders fell lax. When Gary pulled away, it was with his ever present smile, and Stan smiled too.

He was pretty damn sure friends didn't kiss like that, but he didn't care, because for the first time in a long time, Stan's day wasn't turning out to be completely horrible.

The end, I guess. Hahaha, I need someone like that right now.